Struggled To Come Up With A Full Story Line To Build Up On And Suddenly I Get A Burst Of Energy In The

max verstappen (community service) 🤝 kevin magnussen (race ban)

charles leclerc (saying fia has other things to prioritize and swearing on radio first chance he got) 🤝 nico hulkenberg (saying kevin's race ban wasn't justified)

lestappen 🤝 haasbands: having a common enemy (the fia)

F1 x Neon Genesis Evangelion AU

I did something

In this world, the Formula 1 teams are not just racing squads but organizations tasked with defending humanity against existential threats. Instead of cars, each team developed its own Evangelion Unit, with the drivers chosen as pilots due to their ability to push machines to their limits. The championship is no longer a simple competition—it’s a war for humanity’s survival.

Instead of NERV, the organization overseeing the Evas is FIA (Foundation for Interdimensional Annihilation), a coalition of rival racing teams forced to work together against an unknown enemy: the Seraphs, biomechanical monstrosities threatening Earth.

The battle strategy remains the same: synchronization with the pilot is crucial, teamwork is rare, and catastrophic failures are inevitable.

Basic Plot points:

• The Seraphs start attacking major cities, and only the Evangelions can stop them. The FIA forces the teams to work together, but internal rivalries make unity nearly impossible.

• Max’s Eva goes berserk during a mission, nearly killing his teammates. This sparks fears about the uncontrollable power of the Evas.

• Ocon and Gasly’s rivalry nearly gets them killed, forcing them into an uneasy truce.

• Alonso survives an impossible battle, proving he’s essentially immortal at this point.

• Williams pulls off a miracle victory, with Albon proving why he deserves a better machine. Logan barely survives his first real battle, questioning whether he belongs.

• Yuki & Daniel’s Eva gets destroyed in battle, leaving them stranded. They have to fight off a Seraph using only basic weapons until reinforcements arrive.

• Charles experiences a mind-breaking synchronization event, leading to visions of a hidden truth about the Evas.

• The Final Showdown: The truth about the Seraphs’ origins is revealed—perhaps the Evas themselves are part of the problem. The grid must unite to stop the FIA from making a catastrophic mistake, but tensions run high.

Bonus: Commentary

• “Oh! OH! Verstappen has gone Berserk Mode! Again! That’s not what we wanted to see right now!”

• “Meanwhile, Alonso is STILL ALIVE! We don’t know how, but he’s still here!”

• “And Haas’ Eva is… somehow held together with duct tape?!”

• “Ocon and Gasly are fighting again! No, not the enemy—they’re fighting each other!”

• “Williams’ Eva is still holding together with nothing but sheer willpower at this point!”

• “Yuki is charging in alone! Someone stop him—no, wait, never mind, it actually worked?!”

Niki Lauda — Netflix Brazil "Senna" Trailer 2024

Level Correction • Exposure Adjusted • Contrast Adjusted • Yellow Desaturated • Yellow Balance Neutralised to Blue • Brightness Increased • Netflix Logo Manually Painted Over and Removed² • Background Blurred²

Here’s Fernando fanart y’all can look at while I try to write the next fic.

(The sponsors are taking me out they always look like shit)

Lots of work to do this week but I’ll post the Simi ficlet later today, I promise!!

F1 x Neon Genesis Evangelion au

Max.

Story post to my previous drawing.

"Cut the signal! Shut it down!" Voices overlapped in his comms, frantic and useless.

His hands trembled against the controls. He wasn’t piloting anymore. He was inside something alive, something hungry, something that had always been waiting for an excuse to take over.

Max’s hands gripped the controls, fingers slick with sweat, blood pounding in his temples.

The Angel before him was relentless, its form twisting and shifting with eerie fluidity. Every strike was a surge of primal energy—a force that Max couldn’t seem to contain, no matter how hard he pushed Unit 33 to retaliate. His EVA was battered, bruised, the armor cracked and peeling away in places. But still, it stood. Still, it fought.

Another wave of energy hit, sending Max reeling inside the cockpit. He gritted his teeth, his body jolted violently as his EVA staggered backward, but it didn’t fall.

He couldn’t fall.

He had been fighting this Angel for what felt like days. The city around him had become little more than a memory—broken fragments of steel and stone scattered across the battlefield. But he was still there, still standing.

But he didn’t know how much longer he could hold on.

His vitals were spiking. The monitors flashed with warnings, but Max barely registered them. His breath came in ragged gasps, the LCL in his lungs thickening with each inhale. Every movement sent fresh waves of pain through his body, the kind that echoed deep into his bones, but it didn’t matter. He had to keep going. He had to fight.

There was no room for weakness.

He wanted to retreat—just for a moment, to assess the damage, to regroup, to think. He wanted to find a way to make sense of it all. But every time the thought crossed his mind, his heart raced. His chest tightened. Because if he stopped, if he gave in, lives would be lost.

People were counting on him.

He was their perfect pilot.

A perfect pilot didn’t retreat.

A perfect pilot didn’t allow failure.

Not when there was a city to protect. Not when people needed him. Not when NERV was watching, waiting for him to perform—to succeed.

Max’s heart hammered in his chest. His breath came out in short, sharp bursts. Every muscle in his body screamed for rest, for release, but he refused to listen. His hands trembled, but they didn’t leave the controls.

NERV had no patience for weakness. They never had.

They didn’t care if he was hurt. They didn’t care if he was dying.

As long as he was standing, as long as he was able to fight, he had no choice but to keep going.

No one else should do this. No one else could do this.

He couldn’t stop.

With a deep, shaky breath, Max drove Unit 33 forward again, the EVA’s claws scraping against the cracked asphalt. The Angel was already charging toward him, its limbs twisting and shifting, ready to strike once more.

His pulse raced. His sync rate spiked dangerously. The cockpit shook violently as the Angel’s tendrils slammed into his EVA, throwing him back again. Max’s vision blurred as he fought to maintain control, his hands gripping the controls so tight his fingers went numb.

Pain flooded his chest. Pain shot through his head.

But he couldn’t stop.

He couldn’t give up.

“Max! Your vitals—!” The voice crackled over the comms, but it was distant, muffled, like someone shouting from far away.

It didn’t matter.

Max’s jaw clenched, his breath harsh and uneven. The world around him felt like it was spinning, the edges of his vision darkening, but he pushed it all down. He could still fight. As long as he could move, as long as he had breath in his lungs, he could keep fighting.

He had to.

He was their perfect pilot. The one who never stopped. The one who never failed.

Even as his body screamed for rest, even as his mind teetered on the edge of exhaustion, he kept going. Because the world demanded it.

Because they expected it.

A flicker at the edges of his vision. The sync rate display spiked.

85%... 90%... 94%...

He growled, shaking his head. "Not now. Not yet."

A second strike. The Angel’s attack tore into Unit 33’s plating, exposing the writhing mass of muscle beneath. Pain surged through him—not real, but real enough. His nerves lit up as if he had been struck himself. The sync rate climbed again.

97%... 99%...

"Max! Keep control!" The voice—his comms officer? His strategist? He couldn’t tell. It didn’t matter.

The anger came in a wave. A deep, all-consuming heat. The walls of the entry plug pulsed around him, the LCL thickening, as if alive. The heartbeat of the EVA—his heartbeat—pounded in his ears.

100%.

Then, silence.

It felt like hours had passed.

Unit 33 twitched. Its jaw cracked open wider than it should. A low, inhuman snarl vibrated through the battlefield.

The EVA moved—and Max wasn’t the one moving it.

With a deafening roar, Unit 33 launched itself forward, faster than before, limbs contorting, armor splitting as its organic form expanded. It tore into the Angel like a rabid animal, ripping through its core with bloodied claws. The once-monolithic creature writhed and screeched, but Unit 33 didn’t stop. It wouldn’t stop.

Max gasped, trying to override the controls. Nothing responded. The EVA thrashed wildly, breaking the Angel apart piece by piece, ignoring the fact that it had already won. The thing was dead. And yet, Unit 33 was still moving, still destroying, still devouring.

"Cut the signal! Shut it down!" Voices overlapped in his comms, frantic and useless.

His hands trembled against the controls. He wasn’t piloting anymore. He was inside something alive, something hungry, something that had always been waiting for an excuse to take over.

The last thing he heard before everything went black was the sound of his own laughter—low, broken, and not entirely his own.

—

The cockpit disappeared.

The battlefield disappeared.

Everything disappeared.

—

Max floated.

Drifting in a vast, endless sea of nothingness, weightless. lost in a space without shape, without form.

It was as though the air itself had melted away. There was nothing. No edges, no boundaries. Just an infinite softness wrapping around him, enfolding him like a cocoon of silence. He couldn’t name it—the color, the sensation. It wasn’t light, but neither was it dark. It was... something. The absence of something. Or everything.

Every time he tried to name it, the thought slipped away, like sand through his fingers.

A slow breath.

The emptiness felt warm in his chest. It wasn’t his breath. It wasn’t his body. But the air still moved. It still filled him, and in that slow rise and fall, he felt something.

He knew this place.

A sense of relief bloomed, quiet and deep. It was as though something heavy had been taken from him, something unspoken, something he had never let himself acknowledge. A breath that he hadn’t known he was holding.

He Knew. Unit 33 was tearing apart the Angel—or worse, something else.

He could hear it. NERV was screaming through comms, trying to reach him.

But he didn’t care.

Because this was the only place where he could be vulnerable.

No battle. No expectations. No weight crushing down on his shoulders, forcing him to be perfect. Here, he didn’t have to hold up the façade of strength, didn’t have to wear the armor he’d built around himself.

Here, there was nothing.

And in that nothingness, it was waiting for him.

A figure stood above him. Watching. Protecting.

It had no metal, no restraints, no plating to hide behind. It bared its true form—muscle and sinew, raw and unshaped, not human, but something close. Its eyes, deep and endless, held something he couldn’t name. It reached for him, but did not touch him. It didn’t need to.

Its presence was vast, too large to understand, and yet its outline was etched into his mind as if it had always been there. It didn’t move, but he felt it, hovering above him like a shadow without a form. Or maybe it was light—he couldn’t tell. All he knew was that it was watching.

A strange pulse—faint but unmistakable—washed over him, and the space around him seemed to shift, as if the very nothingness breathed with him.

He felt held.

It was holding him.

Keeping him safe.

It was not a grip, not an embrace. It was a knowing, an understanding that didn’t need words or touch. It existed between the silence, in the place where nothing could reach him.

And for a moment, he allowed himself to float in it.

Weightless.

There were no edges. No time. The concept of moments felt like waves, but they never broke. He drifted, and yet he didn’t move. And somewhere beneath it all, he could feel it—the thing that had always been there.

He didn’t know if it was his.

He didn’t know if it was him.

But it was with him.

His fingers twitched. His body, for the first time in so long, felt light.

His eyelids grew heavy.

He let them close.

His mind felt detached, his thoughts soft like ripples in water, fading before they could take shape. There was no rush. No urgency. Only the slow, quiet rhythm of something waiting.

The figure above him remained, and in its presence, he didn’t feel the need to understand. He only existed—floating, breathing, and being held by something that wasn’t quite light, and wasn’t quite shadow.

A moment, perhaps. Or maybe, no moment at all.

It didn’t matter.

He let go.

Let it take over.

And for the first time in a long time, Max rested.

Okay pure Simi Angst

I don’t really know if I feel 100% comfortable with writing character deaths in rpf so this will probably be the only story containing one.

If you are looking for a happy ending my last ficlet post is this story but with Seb answering Kimi’s calls <3

Kimi had been watching the race from the comfort of his living room, a glass of whiskey in hand, until the camera shifted to a horrifying scene. A massive pile-up had occurred on the track. Cars were strewn across the asphalt like broken toys, smoke rising in ominous plumes.

His stomach churned with dread as he recognized one of the damaged vehicles—a Ferrari. The Fin didn’t dare to let out a breath as the commentator’s voice echoed through his living room, struggling to identify the drivers involved.

Kimi's heart stopped. Without wasting a moment, he grabbed his phone and called Sebastian. The call went straight to voicemail. He tried again, his hands trembling, but there was still no answer. His mind raced as he left a message, his voice taut with fear.

"Seb, it's Kimi. I saw the crash. Where are you? Please, call me back. I need to know you’re okay."

Abandoning his drink, Kimi dashed out of his house, his keys already in hand. He jumped into his car and sped towards the track. The roads blurred around him as he dialed again, each unanswered ring tightening the knot in his stomach.

He left another voicemail, his voice breaking with desperation.

“Sebastian, it’s Kimi again. Please pick up. I’m on my way. Just let me know what's going on, if you’re alright. Please.”

He weaved through traffic, pushing his car to its limits, desperate to reach his friend. Another call, another voicemail.

"Seb, I'm getting closer. I’m almost there. Just hold on, okay? We'll sort this out together. I promise. Call me back when you get this."

As he neared the track, the scene grew more chaotic. Emergency vehicles swarmed the area, lights flashing, sirens blaring. Kimi parked haphazardly and ran towards the paddock, his phone still in hand. He left another voicemail, his voice raw with emotion.

"Seb, it’s Kimi. I’m here. I can see the car. Please, God, let me hear your voice.”

Officials tried to hold him back, but Kimi’s determination was unwavering. He pushed through the crowd, eyes scanning for any sign of his friend. He reached the barriers, the sight of the mangled car making his heart drop. He left another voicemail, his voice shaking.

"Seb, where are you? Tell me you got out of there. Please. Pick up the damn phone and tell me you’re alright.”

He spotted the paramedics, their faces grim, working around the wreckage. His stomach churned as he dialed again, refusing to give up hope.

"Seb, please tell me you’re alright. Why won’t you answer? Answer me, Seb, come on. Don’t do this to me."

Kimi watched helplessly as they pulled Sebastian from the car, his body limp. The medics worked quickly, but there was a finality in their movements that made Kimi's blood run cold. He called once more, voice cracking with desperation.

"Seb, it's Kimi. Help is on the way. Stay strong. I’ll try to get to you."

The paramedics loaded Sebastian onto a stretcher, and Kimi saw the truth in their eyes. He dialed again, one last time, knowing it was futile but unable to stop himself.

"Seb, they're here. Hang tight. We'll get you out safely. I’ll be there. I won’t let you go. You won’t be alone. I promise.”

Tears streamed down Kimi’s face as he climbed over the barriers and stumbled forward, his worst fears realized. The medics tried to keep him back, but he broke through, reaching for his friend, his voice a broken whisper. All those voicemails, all those desperate messages, and now he was too late.

“I’m here, Seb. I’m here.”

The paramedics pulled away the grip he had on Sebastian. Pushing him back and telling him to stay back as the ambulance doors closed and drove off without leaving him a chance to go with them.

As he got guided off of the track and back into the pits he left one final voicemail, his voice raw with emotion.

“Seb, they’re going to fix this. The docs will take good care of you. You’re going to be alright. Just focus on getting better. See you soon.”

But deep down, Kimi knew. He knew that Sebastian wouldn't answer. He wouldn't call back. The reality of the situation crashed over him like a wave, and he sank to his knees, collapsing onto the floor of the Ferrari garage, the phone slipping from his grasp.

The following days were a blur of sorrow and disbelief. The racing community mourned the loss of one of its brightest stars, but for Kimi, it was a personal hell.

He listened to the voicemails he had left, each one a painful echo of his desperate race against time. He visited Seb’s memorial, leaving flowers and sitting in silence, the memories of their friendship playing in his mind.

He spoke to Seb in those quiet moments, his words filled with a deep, abiding love.

“Hey Seb, it’s Kimi. I hope you look down to us once in a while. I’ll keep racing through life, just like you taught me. Last week I won at rally but you were all I could think about. I stood there, while the whole crowd was cheering, thinking how I wish you could be there with me. I miss you.”

Though Sebastian would never answer again, Kimi found a measure of solace in those voicemails. He had tried, he had loved, and in the end, that was all that mattered.

Launt ficlet time!

Full version of the extract I uploaded a few days ago!

Hope you like it

The sun hung high over the Silverstone Circuit, casting a relentless glare over the bustling paddock. Reporters swarmed like bees around Niki Lauda, who stood, as always, in his immaculate Ferrari racing suit, patiently answering questions. Among the throng was James Hunt, known as much for his off-track antics as his on-track prowess.

With a wicked grin, James maneuvered through the crowd until he was right next to Niki. The Austrian glanced at him briefly but continued his measured response about race strategy. Without warning, James grabbed Niki by the shoulders and pulled him into a kiss.

The world seemed to freeze. Cameras flashed furiously, reporters gasped, and Niki's eyes widened in shock and confusion. As they broke apart, the paddock erupted into chaos.

Niki shoved James away, his face a mix of shock and fury. “What the hell, James?” he spat out, his voice trembling with anger.

James leaned in closer again, dropping his voice to a conspiratorial whisper that was still loud enough for the microphones to catch. “Just wanted to see if those rumors about our little rat were true.”

The reporters, sensing blood in the water, pounced. Questions flew at Niki from all directions, each more invasive than the last. “What was that kiss about?” “Are you and James together?” “Do the teams approve of this kind of relationship?”

James, still grinning, raised his hands in mock surrender. “Just having a bit of fun, lads,” he said, backing away. “Looks like I got my answer.” With that James turned and left the scene, the smirk never leaving his face.

The reporters didn’t relent. “Niki, care to comment? Is there something you’d like to share about your sexuality?”

Niki’s patience snapped. “No comment,” he barked, forcing his way through the crowd. His mind was a whirlwind of anger and humiliation. He knew he couldn’t let this slide.

He found James leaning against a wall near the paddock, still chuckling to himself. Niki’s approach was swift and purposeful. “What the hell was that, James?” he demanded.

James’ smile faded slightly, but he remained defiant. “Oh, come on, Niki it was just a joke. You never seem to have any fun. I thought I’d help you out.”

Niki’s fists clenched. “Fun?” His voice was a dangerous growl. "You call this fun? You think it’s funny to humiliate me? To expose my private life in front of the world?”

James’ eyes glinted with a challenge. “So, it’s true then? You like guys, don’t you? Is that why you never want to go out and pick up ladies with me?” He said with a mocking laugh.

The insinuation cut deep. Niki stepped closer, their faces inches apart. “You don’t know anything about me,” he growled.

James pressed on, his voice low and mocking “Admit it, Niki. You enjoyed it. Why else would you be so angry?” He looked down at Niki as realisation struck him “is that why Marlene broke up with you?” He asked with a chuckle

Niki’s control finally shattered. “Halt dein verdammtes Maul, du Arschloch! You think you know everything, don’t you?” His breath came in ragged gasps “You don’t get to ask me that. You don’t get to use my past against me for your amusement.” he shouted with tears prickling at his eyes.

James’ grin faltered, a flicker of doubt crossing his features. “I didn’t think it would bother you this much. I didn’t mean to—”

Niki cut him off, shoving him against the wall. “You never think, do you, James? You never think beyond your own amusement. You just act, and damn the consequences.”

For a moment, they stood there, breathless and glaring at each other. Then, something shifted in James’s expression. He stepped closer, brows drawn together in a frown “I didn’t think it bother you that much. I just wanted to have a little fun and get a laugh out of it.”

“Well, congratulations. You succeeded,” Niki said bitterly, his jaw clenching as he stared at the Brit. “If you can’t win you just go and ruin your opponent’s career with something else, huh?”

James’s eyes softened. “I’m sorry, Niki. Really. This wasn’t my intention! Why would I want to ruin-”

“Just shut up. You don’t understand. You have no idea what you’ve done.” Niki interrupted, his voice breaking.

The Brit took a step closer, confusion evident in his eyes. “Why is it such a big deal to you, Niki? What am I missing?”

“Just leave me alone, James.” Niki muttered as he turned to leave, but James grabbed his arm, desperation in his grip. “Please, Niki. Tell me what I’m missing. What’s going on?”

Niki stopped, his shoulders tense. He turned back to James, tears rolling down his cheeks. “Do you have any idea how hard it is to live like this? To hide who I am because I’m afraid of what people will think, of what it will do to my career? it’s not just a joke. It’s my life. It’s who I am. And you had no right to expose that.”

James blinked, confused. “Hide who you are? Niki, I didn’t know—” He cut himself off, realization dawning. “I didn’t know you were really… I thought it was just some stupid joke. I mean, if I had known it was really true I—”

“If you had known you what?” Niki asked, his voice tight. “You wouldn’t have done it?”

“No!“ James said without hesitation

Niki’s anger seemed to deflate, replaced by a sudden deep and aching sadness. “So you wouldn’t have kissed me if you knew” he muttered, more to himself than to James.

James buried a hand in his hair with frustration “Niki, I didn’t mean it like that. I mean, yes, I wouldn’t have done it if I knew it would upset you like this. I wanted to kiss you so badly but now I’ve only made things worse. I’m sorry, Niki. I just—”

Niki cut him off again. “Wouldn’t you? Or would you?” Hoping that he heard right and that James wanted to kiss him so badly. “Would you kiss me again?”

James stared at him, taken aback. “What? Niki, I—”

“Do it again” Niki blurted out, his voice trembling. “If you really mean what you say then do it again.”

James opened his mouth to respond, but no words came out, instead he just stared at him, searching his eyes for any sign of doubt. When he found none, he stepped closer, gently cupping Niki’s face.

Niki closed his eyes, leaning into the touch. “But this time, mean it. Not for the cameras, not for a joke. Just… for me. Please.” he whispered before worrying his lip between his teeth.

James took a deep breath. Hesitating for a moment before gently dragging his thumb over Niki’s lower lip - a fleeting touch to stop him from chewing on it.

Slowly he leaned in and kissed Niki again, slow, deliberate, and full of unspoken promises, this time not for the cameras or the reporters, but for Niki.

It wasn’t a joke this time. It was real.

When they broke apart, Niki’s eyes were once more filled with tears “Thank you” he whispered, his voice breaking.

James pulled him into a tight embrace, his own eyes glistening. “I’m sorry, Niki. I truly am. I’ll never make light of this again.”

Niki nodded “you better not. Arschloch.” He muttered, burying his face in James’ shoulder. For the first time in a long while, he felt a sense of peace. And perhaps, just perhaps, a glimmer of hope for what lay ahead.

Idk why but I thrive on angst and hatred centered fics so that’s probably what I’ll post here the most 🥰💅

“Kimi doesn’t care about any-“ shut your disgusting ass mouth. And just LOOK