il predestinato and onvermijdbaar

in every generation there is a chosen one, what happens if there are two? ao3 | 21+ | main

[panbaric]

btw doing a blog restructure because someone i know irl found my ao3 🔫 in the future all my writing stuff as well as some added rpf unhingedness will be over at @espressoferrari come join! this PSA will self-destruct in a few hours because I'm paranoid

[panbaric]

hi!!! about the wip game, tell us more about saudade (where the light comes through) please! also, omg brazilian portuguese mentioned!

Ah, my unwritten magnum opus. This is nothing more than a loose collection of themes and quotes and a vaguely plotted story and a playlist and maybe…1000 words of prose, but I wanted to explore repression and queerness in the circles that these two orbit in. It’s not that rich people aren’t queer, it’s that the weight of the expectations upon them push them heavily towards heteronormativity. So what do you do when you fall in love against all odds? What choices do you make or not make?

This was originally a future fic, taking place in the years post-F1 but I cannibalised it and recombined it with another fic idea of mine (Hurry Up, We’re Dreaming—which may still become the title!) and it takes place over the course of Tuesday morning-Tuesday morning centred over the 2024 Monaco GP Weekend, with certain artistic liberties of course…it’s the most personal thing I’ve ever plotted and written, because not only was I in Monaco for that weekend so a lot of the places the action happens actually exist, but some ruminations on queerness and expectations genuinely feel like reading my diary, the life of a writer I guess.

I don’t really want to include any prose or give too much away because I want to write the entire thing before leaking snippets, but here are the two quotes at the top of my google doc, and I can exclusively reveal that the main theme song of the fic is Teen Angst by M83.

e falo o português de portugal, muito obrigada!

[panbaric]

naked in miami....chappell roan reference?

Ding ding ding! Congratulations you have unlocked the norlestappen all girls threesome where Max and Charles are in their imgonnagetyouback era and Lando is just in her Naked in Manhattan/Super Graphic Ultra Modern Girl era. Sneak peek below.

The racetrack is her home, but the club is a close second. She sometimes wonders whether she’s born for this too. While Charles seems more concerned with breaking expectations of what it means to be feminine in motorsport, and Max has never bothered to fit into any role expected of her anyway. Lando likes being a woman, letting it loose in a club in makeup and hair that would look outrageous in daylight. She likes letting people’s eyes rake over her in whatever outfit she plucked out of the four suitcases she brings to each race, she likes batting her eyelashes at men with seven figures sitting strong on their left wrists and letting them take her home to fuck until morning come. 

Charles wrinkles her nose whenever Lando expresses that last part, as if the very notion of good sex seems to offend her. Lando idly wonders sometimes whether Charles is a virgin. It would certainly explain her reluctance to talk about sex whenever Lando raises the topic. She couldn’t be more different than Max, who entertains Lando with loud laughter and equal vulgarity at every opportunity. 

Charles and Max are somewhere here too. An all-woman podium on a maiden win–it’s breaking some record or another. A small miracle she supposes, considering there’s only four of them in the sport.

Lando lets her mind wander, to the rumours that plague their circles back home, to the snide comments by media about the two girls who can never quite escape the bite of comparison, to the way she’s seen herself–comfortably sequestered in the leather seat of Max’s private jet–how the mere mention of Charles has Max scrambling to change the subject compared to years past where Max would prod, poke, and pester Lando for every morsel of Charles she could give. She watches them, in the dark of this Miami club strobed with rainbow, and she can’t help herself. A curious, wandering part of her mind she’s kept so carefully sequestered; through the first time she shook Max’s hand as a teenager awash with a soft glow of awe, the first time she saw Susie Wolff strut into the paddock in a suit and heels that clicked on the asphalt, the first time Charles leant her soft head of sweet-smelling hair on her shoulder drunk in another club in another global city, the first time she got Oscar high back over winter break stripped down to old t-shirts and no bra and the Australian sunset had caught Oscar’s cheek, red in sunburn and weed and Lando’s laughter; it suffuses out of the place she’s so carefully tucked it away, seizing her thoughts in a heady and golden hold. 

Lando shivers, and shuts her eyes, her eyelids lighting up bright pink with every passing overhead light.  Fuck it. She’s the winner and she decides what she wants, and what she wants tonight is them.

(spoiler alert Charles is definitely not a virgin Lando is just a bit of a dick)

[panbaric]

phase space?

This is my Halloween Lestappen fic that I am planning to not post until October....but it's based off of Lord Huron discography specifically their Vide Noir album. The title is a reference to a concept in physics/maths which is "the set of all possible states of a dynamical system", and in my head the fic has the vibes of a Mike Flanagan show. I'll leave my one line summary here...

A year after Charles Leclerc and his SF-26 inexplicably vanished in the middle of Spa-Francorchamps, Max Verstappen looks set to become the frontrunner for the 2027 Formula 1 season. If only the wind would stop trying to run him off the track.

[panbaric]

the mire? 🥹🤲

This is the first Lestappen I ever put to paper, and it's undergoing major revisions as I didn't love initial characterisations in it...friends keep bugging me to bite the bullet and write it in its entirety. It's another Ferrari-as-a-thinly-veiled-matephor-for-the-Catholic-Church and follows an alternate 2022. Beginning of the season Ferrari comes into possession of some..compromising material re: Max, and how that changes Charles and Max's relation to each other, the championship charge, and Charles' hunger and desperation to do right by the church of Scuderia Ferrari. Inspo is Psalm 69 (I will praise God’s name in song and glorify him with thanksgiving. This will please the Lord more than an ox, more than a bull with its horns and hooves.) and I listened pretty exclusively to Chinese Satellite and She Calls Me Back while planning/writing it.

Cheeky little excerpt below, it's some of my more pretentious prose so be warned.

Mattia is one of the only people that Charles has met that signs his name on the end of every text. He’s also the only team principal that Charles has known who refuses to communicate in anything other than Italian. Ferrari is not like other teams he said to Charles once when he had tried to switch languages to their native French. It is more than a manufacturer. It is an institution. To bring it back to its former glory we first have to follow the rules set down by those who came before us. 

Charles is lucky, Italian sits easy on his tongue, flows from his mind out into the world. It’s not French, nothing is really, but it feels more somehow, like the split second extra effort it requires to remember to pronounce the vowels, to change the gender of objects, renders his words more meaningful, more holy.  

Carlos doesn’t agree with him, his Italian is harsh and arduous, shaped by the scorching Spanish sun and spices. He’s scowling when he meets Charles in the cafeteria at 8:50. 

“I don’t want to say good morning, because it’s hardly good,” Carlos says, in English, as Charles reaches him by the coffee counter. 

“Statti zitto,” Charles hisses, looking around. “Cosa diavolo perché parli inglese quando siamo qui?”

(Shut up, why the hell are you speaking English here?)

Carlos rolls his eyes and sighs, “Estas como una cabra Charles.” However, his next words come out in Italian, albeit slower and more halting than his greeting.  “It’s a small meeting, just us, Mattia and a couple of PR people.”

Charles frowns, as he takes the cappuccino offered to him. “Do we have any idea what it’s about?”

Carlos shrugs, obviously not in the mood to be chatty in his third language. 

[panbaric]

CREATURES OF HEAVEN SUPREMACY 🔥‼️

Ahhh okay so you know the drill with this one. Lestappen as Eldritch Horror Soulmates and Carlos struggling to come to terms with the fact that he is not divinely chosen. You can have some worldbuilding....as a treat. Beware the non-proofread excerpt below.

The teacher took a breath in and out into the silent classroom, removing his glasses and polishing them on the end of his pressed shirt, “Tell me, what did the Angel Gabriel say to Mary when she beheld him?”

Carlos remained silent, lost, as his classmates murmured around him, a rushed chorus of three words until a girl at the very front shot up her hand.

“Be not afraid,” she enunciated promptly. 

The teacher smiled, “Precisely. The divine is not meant to be looked upon by the mortal eye, zakhar are a discriminated group in many cultures, bene barak experience vitriol for their healing miracles, even those without a bond, with merely potential can find life harder than those without.” He spread his arms wide. “So tell me, what do you think happens when us mere mortals come across a form of the highest communion? An entire other being formed from the deepest entwining of two souls?”

The class was silent as he put his glasses back on, eyes sweeping across the room, “We see the divine and fear it.”

And bonus extra....this is the most recent part I've written for it, set post-Australia 2024...

Charles looks up, from his lazy embrace around Max’s shoulders

Carlos fights to keep his breathing steady, even as every muscle in his aching body is screaming at him to move, to run as fast as his feet will take him as they both turn to him, eyes ringed with a whisper of gold fire. 

“Carlos,” Max says, the smile doesn’t reach past the flashing of sharp teeth. “Congratulations. Enjoy it.”

The unspoken while it lasts lies heavy in the air.

Charles says nothing at all, just smiles, calm, serene. Exactly how he had smiled at that man with the gun in a dark alleyway all those months ago. 

[panbaric]

i got tagged by @ferrarisbabygirl thank you!

RULES: Make a new post with the names of all the files in your WIP folder, regardless of how non-descriptive or ridiculous. Let people send you an ask with the title that most intrigues them, and then post a little snippet or tell them something about it!

Full disclaimer I tend to get like...halfway through WIPs before forgetting they exist. So there's a lot of them. They all have (working) titles at least because I seem to be halfway decent at those.

naked in miami

creatures of heaven

the mire

saudade (where the light comes through)

meteor becoming

phase space

uh people have already all been tagged because i saw this LATE so I'm going to say whoever hasn't done it yet but really wants to, now's your chance! This is your tag!

[panbaric]

im stalking your blog and am shocked at the lack of posts exploring the podium curse on "amber"! would you ever write a follow up or tell us more of how you imagined the rules of the curse being like/what would happen in the years with both of them in f1?

Hi anon! I’m so glad you enjoyed amber, ever since I found out that Charles and Max shared their first F1-adjacent series podiums on the same day the thought had rattled about in my brain since and I wanted to do something with it.

The rules of the curse are something along the lines of: not every podium, but any podium, and always the first one. When I wrote amber I had a vague idea for a series of interconnected stories focusing in on key podiums in their careers, with both of them changing pretty consistently early on and so getting used to getting rid of the current with each other and then shock horror one day only one of them changes. There’s another instalment that lives in my head of them deliberately not dealing with the curse, but instead choosing to go out as women the night after the race, for the “anonymity” of it of course no other reason (Max spent hours finding a dress for the occasion). I think I would want to explore the world of amber a bit more, especially what it means for something like these men who exist in super rich conservative circles when they’re given a free pass at exploring sexuality and gender.

I have a Carlos POV lestappen as a religious horror fic I want to get out first, and I’m working on another long fic focusing on the monaco gp 2024 and well….what it means to be men raised in their positions and these circles, how much of their lives in their own and what belongs to a hungry world that wants a specific image. I think since the themes are similar in the latter that might spark some amber follow up ideas in my creative hindbrain, but as always please expect it to be slow going with me!

I’m genuinely so pleased you enjoyed amber, I think that’s the lestappen fic I’m currently proudest of and I definitely won’t say no to revisiting that again!

[panbaric]

lestappen rule 63 freaks come get your juice

[panbaric]

Charles wears a baby blue number, not dissimilar to the blue of hers and Carlos’ racesuits this weekend. It sweeps up into a high boat neckline, it looks almost demure from the front, but she shifts, only to reveal that it drops in a low sweep across her back, exposing acres of tanned skin beneath Charles’s own half-up hair, the lean muscles shifting with each breath in a tide that makes Lando’s breath catch in the back of her throat. Max herself has on a dress that Lando is sure she’s had since 2016. Black and bodycon, it hugs her curves tight, her cropped dirty blonde hair doing nothing to hide the plunging neckline, nor the broadness of her shoulders. One of Charles’ hands sits comfortably in the dip of Max’s waist as they share a drink, not talking by any means other than eye, and the slow drag of Charles’ thumb in the flashing of the strobe lights. 

[fandom-trash-goblin]

like matryoshka, one inside another inside another inside another.

Birthright, George Abraham // tumblr user dogsmouth // The Complete Poems of Anna Akhmatova: White Flock //Anne Carson, Nox // A Crash Course in Molotov Cocktails, Halyna Kruk // Herman Melville, from a letter to Nathaniel Hawthorne //tumblr user eridan-amporna // tumblr user boyflesher(deactivated) // For Your Own Good, Leah Horlick // Elizabeth Robinson, Brothers

[panbaric]

yes you'll definitely have an audience for the fic bc im also very very (patiently) excited!! outsider pov is always soo fun to me because seeing a relationship (especially one as compelling as lestappen!) through someone elses eyes provides such a different insight and reinforces the intensity in a way?... and very much interested to see what about writing carlos's perspective appealed to you in this soulmate universe!!

I'm really so glad you think so! I'm going to try and get it out by the end of this week, my own little deadline for myself!

No spoilers, but I think what drew my to writing this from Carlos' POV is that in a lot of ways he's been fucked over by being in the same space as Max Verstappen, the young generational prodigy, and Charles Leclerc, il predestinato. Carlos is a good driver, but he doesn't have the mythos not the prophecy that these two have and I wanted to explore that! The idea of Max and Charles being "predestined and inevitable" makes for a good story, but what effect does that have on others in the narrative who aren't one of the chosen ones? Regardless of your wheel opinion on Carlos and the Sainzes, he has been fighting destiny that's not even his own his entire career and for me a Carlos POV Lestappen fic was the most natural avenue to explore that.

[panbaric]

ive come over from your main blog just to say meteor becoming sounds FASCINATING if you can tell us anything about it i would love to listen!

Hi anon! Thanks for joining the party!

I don't want to say too much because it is heavily in the planning stage, and I want to finish this other fic first before I tackle it. But I can give you the three pieces of media it's based off of (it's an ongoing joke with myself that my fics are usually inspired by two songs and another fic). So your three clues for this one are: Just a Man from Epic the Musical (where the working title comes from), the (non F1) fic build me up from bones, and The Yawning Grave by Lord Huron.

I can also say it's a Lestappen fic, it's Lewis POV, set in Ferrari 2025, probably falls under magical realism (as a lot of my fics at the moment tend to). I'm anticipating it to be maybe around 20k looking at my initial plan? I don't want to say any more though, I'll leave some element of surprise!

[panbaric]

Omg your fic sounds like the most incredible thing ever! I hope you keep finding inspiration because I would absolutely love to read it whenever it's finished!!! <3

Thank you! This ask itself is such great motivation <3 I'm slowly plodding along, I've got about 5k and I anticipate it to be somewhere in the range of 9-15k, kind of hoping to get it out before China, but we'll see! I'm very excited about this fic, not only to be writing from an outsider POV but also the themes and worldbuilding included within so I'm glad there'll be an audience for it!

[spiralfucker]

Folie à deux - Merriam-Webster definition // Dead Ringers (1988) dir. David Cronenberg // In Two - Nine Inch Nails // The Lovers (art installation) - Sneha Solanki // Vessel - Nine Inch Nails // Xolo & Cuintle (sculpture) - Xolo Cuintle // Where I End and You Begin - Radiohead // Into one another to P.P.P. (sculpture) - Berlinde de Bruyckere // Immaterial - SOPHIE // White Gauze (photo) - Robert Mapplethorpe //

[bruciemilf]

Did I daydream this, or was there a website for writers with like. A ridiculous quantity of descriptive aid. Like I remember clicking on " inside a cinema " or something like that. Then, BAM. Here's a list of smell and sounds. I can't remember it for the life of me, but if someone else can, help a bitch out <3

[bruciemilf]

I FOUND IT BITCHES

[dramono]

This is going to save me so much trouble in the future.

[panbaric]

Word game! Racing or driving...? :D

He runs a hand along red carbon fibre for the first time, and dares to think about what that red glow would feel like above his own head, to be more than just a racing driver in a good car. What would it be like for the ilk of Maranello to cry out for el elgegido instead, the chosen one, a legend inscribed in a Maranello street name forevermore?