I Feel Like I Have To Thank My 7th Grade German Teacher For Watching Goodbye Lenin With Us And With That

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?!”

Germans and the Finns they adopted

HERE ARE THE BINGO's! GO WILD! HAVE FUN! LONG LIVE SIMI ♡

Any questions? Feel free to ask here or in the discord (to @ararararo and @raikkonenvettels)

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

party rockin in the houseeee tonighttt

tag list!! lmk if you want to be added/removed! @97leclrc @ineedassistance28 @beebeebee2224 @33milian @mclarenyaoi @toppamplemousse @rubywritten @fleshmouth @aliassimes @formulanni @fopzaferrari @run2max @hurricane-heatt @three-days-time @crozierahegao @albonoooo @macbethot

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.

When it comes to writing ff I always have to create a playlist for it first to be really able to put my head into the situation but if I’m just out and enjoying my day while I come up with the (in my eyes) best ff idea I’ll just write it down like a mindless scribble on a post-it and that shit looks like this:

Something changed him. Ofc people say it’s the fire. The hot inferno that cost him half of his face and almost his live but there was something else. Those blue eyes you could feel like needles in the back of your head whenever he was close, where colder, all traces of any human emotion, even if some people would argue that there weren’t any to begin with, seemingly gone and replaced with pure hate and rage.

A shudder ran down James’ spine as he watched him, those blue eyes piercing into him and making him feel more than uncomfortable. The stare caused a wave of physical sickness spread through his body.

He knew he fucked up and he tried to apologize at the hospital, only to be stared at and sent away. Hunt hasn’t heard him say a word since the beginning of that race on August 1st. It’s as if the man had gone mute. Tho he was already saying enough with his eyes, causing everyone to avoid him as if he had a shield or an aura that made everyone shit their pants if they’d got too close. Burning everyone who tries to come close.

He averted his gaze with a slight nod but he could still feel the rats eyes on him.

His stomach was almost betraying him in keeping his breakfast down as he silently regretted every choice he’d ever made in his live. His hands were trembling as he looked down at them, grabbing his helmet in an attempt to busy them and stop the shaking. James forced myself to stay rooted in place, though every instinct screamed at him to run.

Hunt doubted he’d get out of this race alive, not if those eyes would follow him.

English isn’t my first language and I think German grammar goes into this a bit too much so bear with me

I need to get this off my chest because WHAT BUSINESS DO FRANCO STANS HAVE GOING OFF BULLYING JACK UNDER EVERY ALPINE POST AND ON HIS OWN ACCOUNT. AND THEN HAVE THE AUDACITY TO SAY THEY DONT BULLY ANYONE BRO…

I don’t hate franco but his stans make me hate him and him not doing anything about it nor alpine makes me even more angry. Yall are enabling your fans to act like that. And they destroy their own and Francos image. Because there are so many franco fans who don’t agree with the stans.

I’ve been crashing out over this for WEEKS and the final straw were franco fans bullying a jack fan under A JACK POST. THIS IS HOW FAR IT HAS COME AT THE MOMENT.

Soft Launt ficlet while I try to bring myself to continue the multi chapter fic about them that's been sitting in my drafts.

Hope y'all enjoy it!

Niki sat on the edge of the bed, half-dressed, methodically buttoning his shirt. His eyes, though, had long abandoned the task at hand. Across the room, James stood by the window, the golden morning light spilling over his bare chest, casting his lean figure in a warm glow. He was staring out at the street, casually sipping from a mug, his hair a wild, blonde mess that somehow made him look effortlessly perfect.

Lauda’s gaze lingered, tracing the curve of James’s broad shoulders, the easy way he stood—completely relaxed, utterly himself. It never ceased to amaze him how James could make chaos seem beautiful. Niki, with all his precision and need for control, felt a pang of admiration. There was something freeing about James’ carelessness, something magnetic in the way he lived entirely in the moment.

The thought made Niki smile, just the slightest tug of his lips as he watched. James was a force of nature, reckless and wild, and yet—somehow—he was also Niki’s. It was a truth that still felt surreal, even after all this time.

Lost in thought, Niki didn’t realize how long he’d been staring until James turned from the window, catching him in the act. A slow, mischievous grin spread across Hunt’s face, his blue eyes sparkling with amusement.

"See something you like, Niki?“ James teased, his voice low and playful as he set the mug down. He took a few steps toward Niki, his grin widening as he caught the faint hint of embarrassment crossing Niki’s expression.

Niki, never one to be easily flustered, cleared his throat and looked away, focusing back on his shirt as if it suddenly demanded his full attention. "You should get dressed. We’re going to be late," he muttered, his voice gruff, though the edge was softened by the warmth he couldn’t quite hide.

James, of course, didn’t let it go. He crossed the room in a few strides, standing in front of Niki, shirtless and unapologetically amused. "Oh, come on," he said, his tone light and teasing. "You were staring at me. Don’t deny it."

Niki shot him a look, his brow furrowed, but there was a flicker of affection in his eyes. "You’re impossible," he muttered, though the corners of his mouth betrayed him with the faintest hint of a smile.

James chuckled and leaned down, his fingers brushing against Niki’s jaw, tilting his chin up ever so slightly. "I like it when you look at me like that," he said softly, the playful edge fading into something more genuine.

Niki didn’t pull away. He couldn’t, not when James was this close, his presence so magnetic. He swallowed, trying to maintain his usual composure, but it was hard when James had that look in his eyes—the one that told Niki he was seen, truly seen, for everything he was.

"James…" Niki began, but before he could say anything else, James bent down and kissed him, softly at first, then deeper, his hand gently resting against Niki’s neck. It wasn’t hurried or heated, just... loving, the kind of kiss that melted the tension in Niki’s chest and made him forget whatever argument he’d been preparing.

When James finally pulled back, he grinned, his forehead resting against Niki’s. "You’re staring again," he whispered.

Niki let out a soft laugh, shaking his head. "Maybe I am," he admitted, his voice quieter now, more relaxed. "But it’s your fault."

James pressed another quick kiss to his lips, his grin returning. "I’ll gladly take the blame for that."

If I had the chance to start over || Launt

It got out of hand. I got lost in my own writing while listening to chances on repeat. I startet writing this fic at around 10:30pm and its now 3am so please excuse any mistakes etc and let me know if there are any!

Summary: James has had feelings for Niki for a long time now. He never ends up confessing tho and one day the despair hits him so hard he gets himself so fogged with alcohol and drugs that Niki has to come and save the day once again. Meanwhile James finally opens up about his feelings.

Silverstone

The roar of engines filled the air at Silverstone as James Hunt pulled his helmet off, shaking his golden hair free. James leaned against the pit wall, he glanced across the pit lane as his gaze fell on Niki Lauda, cool and composed, discussing strategies with his team. There was a magnetism to Niki that James couldn't quite shake off, a quiet strength and an enigmatic presence that drew him in.

James found himself watching Niki more than usual. Every precise movement, every calculated decision, and the sheer determination etched on his face fascinated James. He wondered if Niki ever noticed the stolen glances, the lingering looks. It was a fleeting thought, quickly buried beneath a brash smile and a casual shrug. James Hunt wasn't the type to dwell on feelings, especially not feelings as confusing as these.

"Hey, Hunt," a voice called, snapping him out of his reverie. It was one of the mechanics. "We filled her up. Ready for another round?"

James smirked, masking the tumultuous feelings inside. "Always am."

But as he climbed into his car, his mind still kept wandering to Niki.

Monaco

The glamour of Monaco was intoxicating, with its sun-soaked streets and opulent yachts. The competition was fierce, the stakes higher than ever. Yet, James found his thoughts straying towards Niki. They had become rivals on the track and, somehow, confidants off it. There were late-night conversations, hushed and intimate, where they shared dreams and fears over drinks.

One such night, James almost blurted it out. They were on the deck of a yacht, the sea breeze ruffling their hair. Niki was talking about his plans for the next race, but James couldn't focus. His mind was racing with words he couldn't say.

"I admire you, Niki. More than you know," He managed, his voice thick with unspoken emotions.

Niki smiled, a rare, genuine smile. "I know, James. I feel the same."

The words hung in the air, open to interpretation. James' heart pounded, but he said nothing more. The moment passed, leaving him with a bittersweet taste of what could have been.

Belgium

There was no reason for him to be this happy. After McLaren made changes to the car it became difficult to drive and James ended up lurching all over the track, holding other drivers up, and eventually retired with gearbox failure.

As the race ended and Niki emerged victorious, James found himself clapping louder than anyone else, his admiration barely contained while his engineers just scoffed at him in disbelieve. He didnt care though. He stopped doing that a long time ago.

Zandvoort

James often caught himself watching Niki, thinking about what might happen if he took the leap and confessed his love.

But he never did. Instead, he masked his feelings with a reckless lifestyle—partying, women, and substances. Each time he saw Niki's determined face, the longing in his heart grew stronger.

The celebration after James's latest victory was in full swing. Champagne flowed, laughter echoed, but James felt a hollowness inside. Across the room, Niki was engaged in conversation, his sharp features softened by a rare smile. He was talking to Marlene, a beautiful woman who seemed to be the only one who could break through Niki's stern exterior.

James's heart ached. He downed another glass of champagne, trying to drown the jealousy and longing that gnawed at him. What if he had taken that chance, back in '73? What if he had told Niki how he felt?

Watkins Glen

James stood in the shadows, watching Niki with Marlene, her laughter ringing out like a melody. He turned away, unable to bear the sight, and retreated to his hotel room. He saw them together often, and each time, a part of him shattered, and James cursed himself for never having the courage to confess his feelings. He never dared to hope.

Trying to numb the pain, he drowned his sorrows in alcohol and drugs. The party raged on, but James felt increasingly isolated, lost in his thoughts.

Tokyo

The neon lights of Tokyo painted the city in vibrant hues. The race was over, the celebration in full swing, but James was nowhere to be found.

In his hotel room, James poured himself another drink, the alcohol mixing with the drugs he'd taken earlier. The room spun around him, memories of races, laughter, and stolen glances merging into a painful blur.

He wondered what might have been if he had confessed his love. "What if I told him?" he muttered, downing most of his freshly poured drink "What if I just told him I love him?"

What-ifs and could-have-beens crashed over him in relentless waves, each one more unbearable than the last. His vision blurred, hot tears spilling over and streaming down his cheeks.

James collapsed onto the floor, staring at the ceiling as a sob ripped through him, raw and guttural, shaking his entire body. He tried to wipe at his eyes, but the tears kept coming, a torrential flood that refused to be stemmed. His fingers brushed against his cheeks, smearing the tears, mixing them with the alcohol he spilled.

Each sob grew louder, more desperate, as if he could cry out the anguish that had settled deep within his soul. Arms wrapping around his knees, he curled into himself, rocking back and forth in a futile attempt to find comfort.

His breaths came in ragged gasps, the pain in his chest tightening with every exhale as the room around him seemed to dissolve into a haze of sorrow, the shadows closing in, suffocating him with their presence.

The desperate banging on the door was muffled at first, almost as if it were part of the whirlwind in his head. James barely registered the noise, consumed entirely by his grief. It grew more insistent, a rhythmic pounding that seemed to match the frantic beat of his own heart. He heard voices calling his name, but they were distant, like a dream slipping away.

The door swung open with a force that startled him, and there, framed in the doorway, stood Niki Lauda, breathless and wide-eyed. Niki’s face was a mixture of confusion and concern, his eyes wide as he took in the scene before him.

James looked up, his vision swimming through the tears, and saw Niki standing there, silent and stunned. For a moment, everything froze. The banging on the door had stopped, replaced by an eerie silence that seemed to stretch on forever. Seeing Niki there, so vividly present when he’d only imagined him in his sorrow, was both a comfort and a fresh stab of pain.

Niki took a step forward, his eyes never leaving James’s. “James,” he said with a forced calmness, the name hanging heavily in the air. “Scheiße, James, what happened?”

"I'm sorry," he choked out between sobs, his voice barely a whisper. "I'm so, so sorry."

He didn't know who he was apologizing to—Niki, himself, the universe. It didn’t matter.

James tried to speak once more, but the words caught in his throat. He could only stare up at Niki, his emotions laid bare, his sobs a stark admission of his despair. He wiped at his face, trying to regain some semblance of composure, but the effort was futile. The weight of his sorrow and regret was too much to bear.

Niki knelt beside him, his expression a mix of sadness and empathy. He reached out a hand, carefully pulling James into a sitting position, supporting him with a firm but gentle grip. “I’m here, alright? We’ll get through this.” he said, his voice steadier than James’s own trembling hands. “Just… just breathe. In Gottes Namen was tust du dir nur an.”

James clung to Niki, his sobs finally quieting and his breathing slowing down. The room still spun, but now there was a lifeline amid the chaos.

Niki stayed with him, the weight of unspoken words hanging between them, but in that moment, the silence was enough. They sat together on the floor until Niki was convinced James wouldnt fall over or start sobbing again as soon as he let go of him.

He helped James to his feet and guided him to the couch, ensuring he was seated comfortably before moving to fetch a glass of water and some painkillers.

“You can't keep doing this to yourself. Ich kann nicht immer da sein um auf dich auf zu passen." Niki murmured, his voice barely above a whisper. " You need to stop this—drugs, alcohol. You’re destroying yourself."

James’s eyes followed every movement of Niki’s. His gaze was unwavering, even as he struggled to stay conscious. He was too weak to respond verbally, but his eyes spoke volumes, filled with a mix of regret and adoration.

Niki moved about the room, tidying up and picking up the discarded bottles with a practiced efficiency, cleaning the mess and making sure James was well enough to avoid a trip to the hospital. Despite his frustration, there was a tenderness in his touch, a silent promise that he wouldn’t leave James in this state, no matter how much James had hurt himself.

As Niki worked, James began to whisper to himself, his voice barely audible over the sound of Niki’s movements and his own ragged breathing

"If I had the chance to start over… the first person I’d seek out would be you, Niki."

Niki froze for a moment, his hand hovering over a dirty glass. He looked down, catching James’s eye for a split second. There was something in James’s gaze that made Niki pause, his heart aching despite the anger he felt.

“I should’ve... I should’ve told you, should’ve taken the chance while I could” James continued as he looked up into Niki's eyes “I would’ve done it right this time. I would’ve told you everything. I would-”

"You need to drink your water." Niki interrupted harshly as he turned to put the glass and the empty whiskey bottle on the counter.

“I’m sorry,” James whispered again, his voice breaking. “I didn’t... I didn’t know how-”

Niki leaned in to check James's pulse once more but remained silent, his presence a comforting anchor in the storm of James’s emotions. The weight of the words that James had never said lay heavily in the room.

In a halting voice, he continued, "I... I love you, Niki. I've always loved you. And I know I've messed everything up, but if I had another chance, I'd do it all differently. I'd do it right."

For a long moment, Niki said nothing, just knelt there, processing the words that hung heavy in the air. He finally shook his head slightly, as if to clear his thoughts, and resumed tending to James, his movements a little gentler now.

Making sure James was settled in bed, his head resting on a pillow and a glass of water within reach, Niki turned to leave, casting one last glance at James.

“Rest, James. We'll talk more when you're sober. I’ll be around if you need anything." he said softly, his voice lacking its earlier harshness.

He turned off the light and quietly left the room, leaving James alone in the darkness.

James lay in the darkness, tears streaming down his face once more. He had finally said it, but it felt like he had lost everything. He clung to the hope that maybe, somehow, he could fix things. But for now, he was alone, begging the universe for a chance to turn back time.

The room was silent, save for his whispered plea, "I didn’t mean for it to be this way. Please. Please, let me go back. Let me fix this."

But the past remained unchangeable, and James was left to face the consequences of his silence, his heartache echoing in the empty room.