#stefania palma

[ihopethisoneisnttaken]

Omg Stefania looks so much like Luca

[takemetotherave]

Just another town. Or the centre of the motorcycling world. It's all a matter of perspective. Read on Kartik's story as he travels to Valent

like mother like son

[rise-ha]

the rossi paradox

chapter 8: crash my heart and go

Jerez 2025

Marc was too old to be sulking.

Yet, sulk he did.

The only good thing about this no-show of a weekend was that, at least, his mother’s torture was shortened by him crashing out. He waved his team away, put off reviews and debriefs for later, and grabbed his scooter to scoot on back to his motorhome, dodging nosy cameras as he did so. In his motorhome, the race was still on, his mother and Vale were watching it on the couch, a bag of open chips between them.

“Mama,” said Marc, “you can go now.”

“Oh, baby,” She rose to her feet and came over to envelop him in a hug, and time seemed to unwind, tumbling backwards, and he was a child again, his father’s large hand patting the back of his head as he guided him to where his mother and Alex were waiting, and he was sobbing his heart out because he'd lost, and Mama was there, oh, baby, there is always going be a next race, enveloping him in the same, warm hug as this, even though he was a brat who thrashed and wailed about how he wanted to win this race.

It felt a bit like that, still.

“Don’t tell me,” muttered Marc into her shoulder, “there’s always going to be a next race.”

“No,” said Mama, “I was going to say that Alex is going to win the race, so to me it’s even better.”

He laughed, cheered at once, and squeezed her back, pinching her as he did so. She smacked him and he let go, sniggering.

“Did you have fun with Vale?” He asked, just to be a shit.

“Hmmm,” said Mama forbiddingly, mouth pinching together but he could see the smile fighting to be seen, there. He took it positively.

“I didn’t do anything wrong,” Vale called over. Marc peeked over his mother’s shoulder, and saw Vale sprawled all over the couch, regarding them with a wry smile.

“Don’t tell him, but watching him squirm is cute,” his mother whispered in his ear in Catalan. Then she pulled back, patted his shoulder, “I’m going to Gresini now. I want to be there for Alex’s first win. Come join us later.”

“Don’t jinx him!”

She waved him off, then jabbed her finger at Vale who went eep and sat up straight, “Don’t cause my son problems. Remember what we talked about.”

“What did you guys talk about?” Marc asked, a little concerned that his mother had blathered on about topics he had specifically told her not to.

Vale shrugged, and his mother walked out the door and left them alone; no answer was to provided here. Marc let the frown unfold from his brows, and he trudged over to join Vale, his suit creaking as he sat down.

“You stink,” Vale told him.

Sweat and motor-oil, the usual. Mischief flickered in him, and Marc shoved his entire weight into Vale, who yelped as he was squished into the armrest. His squirming was amusing the way a tortoise flipped onto its shell was funny: helplessly so. At once, Marc’s mood soared even further, and he sniggered even as Vale whacked his shoulder and called him names.

“Ack!” Marc yelped, when Vale landed another blow near his right ribs.

Vale froze, gasping, his fingers uncurling from the fist he’d formed to touch the spot he’d hit, tender. “Did I hit a bruise?” Then he saw the tremble of Marc’s lips, the effort of holding back a laugh, and he flushed pink. “God, you’re such an asshole.” He dug his knuckles into the spot again, again and again in small, sharp jabs, and Marc just burst out of laughing.

"Stop that," he said between giggles, "you’re only going to hurt yourself." The race suit was padded to protect against the fall he’d suffered just now. He circled Vale’s wrist, firmly, and held it away from his body. Vale scowled at him, his legs folded in front of him, and he dug the heel of his right foot into Marc’s hip.

Marc laughed harder.

“You sucked,” Vale said, sticking his tongue out, “if Alex wins this, you’re going to lose the lead on the world championship, you know.” The glint in his eyes was goading.

Valentino used to do that all the time, in press conferences, away from mics and cameras, the occasional brushes of contact in hallways, the snide, backhanded remarks anyone else would’ve thought were friendly.

They were not.

Vale, twenty years ago, was just more obvious about it.

Or maybe Marc had gotten better with practice.

read the rest on ao3!

[hairpinturnn]

searching that image is giving me no information at all about whether or not it's stefania except for that it was once used as the image for an interview someone did with her... if it helps there is also this two-pixel image of another angle of the same moment that annoyingly seems to only exist on pinterest...? pinterest.com/pin/788622584787380053/ i also can't find any pictures of her easily with hair similar to this, even when it's blonde-ish she wears it darker and shorter so idk

about this post

anon i'm SO sorry that i'm answering you after literal months despite the fact that i haven't stopped thinking about this since but you are seriously my hero. that is 100% stefania in both photos especially since it was used for an interview with her, truly thank you soo much for this find. crucial archiving

[63cco]

thank lord Valentino inherited all of his mother's beauty

[waru-chan8]

Speaking of carbon copies

Luca Marini = his mother Stefania Palma

Luca looks a lot like his mum, so it's undoubtable to whom he is related.

Might I note, that he looked more like here when she was younger? I was also a cute and those blue eyes shone a lot more when he was a kid.

Thanks for sending m those adorable photos

[hairpinturnn]

apparently i'm thinking about this photo yet again and my question is. is this stefania. i've assumed that it's her but i also haven't been 100% sure so this stupid pic has been sitting in my files ruining my life for months. no, the parc ferme recording has no sight of her. no, it's not ai, i found it posted a millenea ago on some obscure website. hello. judging by the fact that his visor is already on, this had to have happened after the cameras stopped rolling.. and it doesn't look like his girlfriend at the time. anyways, releasing it onto the dash, fly high

[ihopethisoneisnttaken]

I love these as my top posts. They deserve that spot