Martijn's photodump, including both of his dogs in one picture and Odiel wondering why the fuck she had to trade the Porsche for a Hyundai. She will contact management about this
Imagine you are teammates with Valentino in your rookie year, you're his direct title rival the next, he puts up a literal wall in the middle of your garage, you're forced to shake hands with your #1 rival-maybe-crush by the king of Spain, this only makes your rivalry worse, you have to sit through Vale's torment of Casey who you're socially awkward frienemies with, the tip of your finger is literally severed off, you get p2 in a race where both of your ankles were fractured to the point you couldn't even stand on the podium, your teammate finally goes to ducati hell but is somehow still torturing Casey, you fly to barcelona for collarbone surgery and race to p5 literally hours later, Valentino is your teammate again competing for his possible 10th championship, you have to sit right next to him when he goes on a conspiracy rant about the guy he's been eye-fucking the last two years and who you can't fucking stand, somehow now you and Dani have become the healthy yamaha-honda rivals, you move to ducati and realize maybe Vale's performance wasn't just because he's an old man, your teammate becomes your rival AGAIN but this time it's not for a title and you just hate each other for real, Dani retires and you take his seat at honda, you fracture two vertebrae which eventually become your reason for retirement, you announce this retirement during the literal last race of the year and honda has to scramble to fill your seat with Alex Marquez, you become a test rider so bad you don't even last a year, you reveal that ducati had offered you a seat for 2021 but declined and instead endorsed Pecco, you go on the Masked Singer and finish 4th, you invest in crypto which immediately starts tanking, you buy an apartment in dubai which gets bombed, you get scammed out a ferris wheel, you tease a boxing match with Dani that ends up just being an interview where you ask if he ever genuinely hated you, he says yes, you finally pick up a protege and it's 31-year-old Maverick Viñales, he is dead last in the standings, he might actually lose his seat next year.
star wars setting, ~10 years after the republic fell (think fallen order vibes)
ââ
On the wind-blasted planet of Zeffo, up a stone path that winds through the hillside from the small spaceport, the first words Marc speaks to him in ten years are, âYouâre alive,â and Valentino nearly turns on his heel to take his chances with the Inquisitors.Â
Startled, his first line of defence is to get cruel. âIâm sorry, I must have the wrong house. They told me a Jedi lived around here.â
âDonât be a fucking idiot,â Marc snaps, riled in turn, and the winds picks up as if in response. The villagers had warned Valentino to wait out the storm, but heâd been too impatient, buoyed by the possibility of another survivor. The electromagnetic fields must truly be playing havoc with his senses, because if heâd had an inkling of who waited at the top of the path, heâd still be in the spaceport. Too late now. âGet inside.âÂ
Grudgingly, Vale does, letting his hood fall to his shoulders. The place is small, dark, but meticulously tidy. Marc hands him a clay cup, and Vale recoils at the glint of metal where his fingers should be. Bile threatens the back of his throat, but he swallows it down; he has no fluid to spare.Â
âAh.â Marc smiles, rueful, but with enough of a twist that Vale viciously wonders if heâd done it on purpose. âCouldnât keep out of trouble, even after I left the Order.â
Left. One way to put it, Vale supposes. âOf course you couldnât.â
Silence. Outside, the winds howl.Â
âI thought aboutââ Marc swallows, a thick sound, pulling his right armâmissing right armâclose to his body. âI felt it, that night, the Force screaming. The cries. I wanted toâfind any survivors, do what I could. Some troops found me first.â
An old curse finds its way to Valeâs lips. Purge troopers are sadistic; Marc must have found a way out, or they wouldnât have stopped with an arm.Â
âDrink,â Marc insists, threading his way through the tiny living space. âThe storms provide good cover from those who can sense the Force, but theyâll blow for days.â
âDays?â Vale echoes. âIâI need to get back to the spaceport. My ship is there.â
âNothing will be able to take off or land,â Marc says, matter-of-fact.
Fuck. Stuck here, then. âThe boys will be worried.â
At that, Marcâs head snaps up, eyes dark. âTheyâŠ?â
âI saved them,â Vale says, and wrinkles his nose as the memory washes over him: burnt flesh, choked screams, lightsabers flashing in a hypnotic whirl. Luca, clinging to his hand. âI wish I could have saved more.âÂ
Attachment, though, had always been his struggle. His younglings, his Padawan, had been his sole thought, and only once the smoke cleared and hyperspace was dancing in front of him had he sunk into the pilotâs seat, sobbing as the Force wailed in grief and anger.Â
âTheyâre lucky to have you,â Marc says, which is perhaps the kindest thing heâs ever said to Vale. It rubs, the lack of teeth, and Valentino squirms in the face of it.Â
âYou said days?â he asks, brusque. âHow many days?â
Marc shrugs. âItâs a storm. You want to go outside and ask it?â As if to underline his point, the winds scream, crashing against the mountainside.
âHow long do they usually last?â
Another shrug. Valeâs chest burns with an anger he hasnât allowed himself to feel for a decade. When he moves, his head brushes against something dangling from the ceiling: old parts from a ship, if he had to guess. Against the far wall sits a workstation, and as he moves closer, he can pick out the bones and carapace of a lightsaber. Marcâs lightsaber.Â
Couldnât keep out of trouble. Couldnât let go. Always so reckless.Â
âI have a room,â Marc says, occupying himself with something in the corner, fingers busy so he doesnât have to look at Vale. âI will keep out of your way. I have workâthe villagers give me things to repair. Just donât go outside. The winds are stronger than you think.â
âSo I have no choice.â
âNo.â If he didnât know better, heâd call it apologetic, the lilt in Marcâs voice, but Vale does know better. He knows him: body, soul, Force.
I really do wish Massa compelled me more because his career was bonkers like:
2006: schumacher's last teammate and expected to be the ferrari successor primary driver
2007: various issues meant the team went all in on kimi raikonnen who won the wdc by one point
2008: lost the wdc by one point on the very last corner of the last race
2009: knocked unconscious in a race and in a coma, came back and the team had switched their attention and support to fernando alonso
2010: victim of team orders so blatant the rules got changed and he was subjected to the most mortifying press conference ever.
2011: bonkers beef season with lewis for some reason
2012: ferrari broke the seal on his gearbox in parc ferme at cota on purpose so he'd get a grid penalty and start behind fernando
2014: fired from ferrari, replaced by kimi raikonnen, did take his beloved engineer with him
2016: retires. big emotional last race in brazil.
2017: came back from retirement when valtteri bottas got the surprise call-up to mercedes post rosberg retirement. retires again.
now: currently suing the fia over crashgate and the first part of the judgment was like he lost the wdc cause he SUCKS.
and the whole smedley love affair is crazy, like Smedley didn't even want to be a race engineer but Massa didn't get on with his previous engineer so badly they basically arrange married them. And then there's the infamous 'Felipe, baby, stay cool' radio incident. Smedley saying, well I didn't think the radio would be public that was just normal coworker talk. SURE. normal coworker talk so normal we're still talking about it 20 years later. Rob had to tell him he lost the WDC and then after the race when he was alone cried for two hours and couldn't stop no matter how much he tried. smedley desperately trying to raise Massa on the radio post-crash :(( then rob blowing up ferrari's spot giving those team orders and then apologising in such a blatant way no one could deny they'd happened. he couldn't let that injustice stand and it came through. and then going to Williams again he couldn't bond with anyone so they had to whisk Rob away from his much more successful team to go to williams. and rob went. Romance!
star wars setting, ~10 years after the republic fell (think fallen order vibes)
ââ
On the wind-blasted planet of Zeffo, up a stone path that winds through the hillside from the small spaceport, the first words Marc speaks to him in ten years are, âYouâre alive,â and Valentino nearly turns on his heel to take his chances with the Inquisitors.Â
Startled, his first line of defence is to get cruel. âIâm sorry, I must have the wrong house. They told me a Jedi lived around here.â
âDonât be a fucking idiot,â Marc snaps, riled in turn, and the winds picks up as if in response. The villagers had warned Valentino to wait out the storm, but heâd been too impatient, buoyed by the possibility of another survivor. The electromagnetic fields must truly be playing havoc with his senses, because if heâd had an inkling of who waited at the top of the path, heâd still be in the spaceport. Too late now. âGet inside.âÂ
Grudgingly, Vale does, letting his hood fall to his shoulders. The place is small, dark, but meticulously tidy. Marc hands him a clay cup, and Vale recoils at the glint of metal where his fingers should be. Bile threatens the back of his throat, but he swallows it down; he has no fluid to spare.Â
âAh.â Marc smiles, rueful, but with enough of a twist that Vale viciously wonders if heâd done it on purpose. âCouldnât keep out of trouble, even after I left the Order.â
Left. One way to put it, Vale supposes. âOf course you couldnât.â
Silence. Outside, the winds howl.Â
âI thought aboutââ Marc swallows, a thick sound, pulling his right armâmissing right armâclose to his body. âI felt it, that night, the Force screaming. The cries. I wanted toâfind any survivors, do what I could. Some troops found me first.â
An old curse finds its way to Valeâs lips. Purge troopers are sadistic; Marc must have found a way out, or they wouldnât have stopped with an arm.Â
âDrink,â Marc insists, threading his way through the tiny living space. âThe storms provide good cover from those who can sense the Force, but theyâll blow for days.â
âDays?â Vale echoes. âIâI need to get back to the spaceport. My ship is there.â
âNothing will be able to take off or land,â Marc says, matter-of-fact.
Fuck. Stuck here, then. âThe boys will be worried.â
At that, Marcâs head snaps up, eyes dark. âTheyâŠ?â
âI saved them,â Vale says, and wrinkles his nose as the memory washes over him: burnt flesh, choked screams, lightsabers flashing in a hypnotic whirl. Luca, clinging to his hand. âI wish I could have saved more.âÂ
Attachment, though, had always been his struggle. His younglings, his Padawan, had been his sole thought, and only once the smoke cleared and hyperspace was dancing in front of him had he sunk into the pilotâs seat, sobbing as the Force wailed in grief and anger.Â
âTheyâre lucky to have you,â Marc says, which is perhaps the kindest thing heâs ever said to Vale. It rubs, the lack of teeth, and Valentino squirms in the face of it.Â
âYou said days?â he asks, brusque. âHow many days?â
Marc shrugs. âItâs a storm. You want to go outside and ask it?â As if to underline his point, the winds scream, crashing against the mountainside.
âHow long do they usually last?â
Another shrug. Valeâs chest burns with an anger he hasnât allowed himself to feel for a decade. When he moves, his head brushes against something dangling from the ceiling: old parts from a ship, if he had to guess. Against the far wall sits a workstation, and as he moves closer, he can pick out the bones and carapace of a lightsaber. Marcâs lightsaber.Â
Couldnât keep out of trouble. Couldnât let go. Always so reckless.Â
âI have a room,â Marc says, occupying himself with something in the corner, fingers busy so he doesnât have to look at Vale. âI will keep out of your way. I have workâthe villagers give me things to repair. Just donât go outside. The winds are stronger than you think.â
âSo I have no choice.â
âNo.â If he didnât know better, heâd call it apologetic, the lilt in Marcâs voice, but Vale does know better. He knows him: body, soul, Force.
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