there's the same old narrative going around that "nico was invited to a university to talk about sustainability and obsessed over lewis hamilton instead"
and like you need to understand that. he is going to a auditorium of 18 year olds who were literally zygotes 🤏 when he retired and if they're not actively watching f1 they might've never heard of him. so how does he introduce himself, and why is a petrol guzzling sports driver even talking about sustainability at all? chances are even if you don't know f1, you know lewis hamilton, and the childhood best friend who beat him is a compelling story to segue into hybrid cars and EVs to an audience who might otherwise not care. it's being an effective public speaker.
what do you mean theyre removing the see-likes feature on twitter do these people know thats the only way charles can communicate with us without having to go to pr training IV for the 7th year in a row
pato: i like all types of cars. what year do you want? what decade?
alex: i want 1860-1910.
pato: i don't know any then. those don't even exist.
alex: *bombastic side eye*
@nico-di-genova, @raapija. this right here is a perfect example of alex's type a personality 😂
Max Verstappen/Charles Leclerc | Rating G | 2 341 words
@lestappenforever and I are back to writing pure crack, and we actually managed to keep it pure crack this time! We couldn't resist joining in on the whole 'Leclerc adopted family' situation and bully Max at the same time. We hope you enjoy reading it as much as we enjoyed writing it!
Read on AO3 here.
Summary:
Murphy’s Law says that ‘everything that can go wrong, will go wrong’. And on one warm May afternoon, Max Verstappen will come to experience the cruel reality of Murphy’s Law for himself.
***
Max unlocks the door and pushes it open with a sigh, feeling tired and drained from a day full of meetings. There’s nothing he wants more than to have a nice, relaxing bath followed by a quiet evening spent on the couch with Charles, watching Netflix and doing absolutely nothing.
So, one could imagine his surprise when he opens the front door, only to be hit square in the face by a white, fluffy toy bone.
“Shit, sorry!” Charles laughs from where he’s sitting cross-legged on the floor at the other end of the hallway.
He neither looks nor sounds apologetic.
—
OR: Max has had a very long day. Charles — and his army of pseudo-adopted children — make it worse.