Charles Leclerc World Champion - Tumblr Posts

Stop, but not forever

Tags: Character study style writing, heavily implied Lestappen, Symbolism. Hurt/comfort, Happy Ending, Austin was a fever dream but Mexico made it better

Word Count: 1.3k

This is also on AO3 by roianamustang (me).

Poison: Any substance that can cause severe organ damage or death if ingested, breathed in, injected into the body or absorbed through the skin. Many substances that normally cause no problems, including water and most vitamins, can be poisonous if taken in excessive quantity.

Symptoms may include changes in consciousness, body temperature, heart rate, breathing, such as shortness of breath, and many others, depending on the organs affected. 

Poison, is something physical that crawls deep into your body, and the only way to heal from it is to let your body flush it out—if it isn’t harmful enough already, or use an antidote.

Poison, is the substance thrown around in old fairy tales and folklore, with witches, curses and unhappy wives.

Poison, is a moment of weakness. It's an act of desperation, a cry for help.

Poison, is harmful.

Poison hurts.

Stop.

At a moment, however, it will come to a full stop. Whether that be the substance circulating through your bloodstream or your heart.

If it’d stop his mind from running, Charles Leclerc would have dunked his head in it. Closed his eyes and inhaled.

But poison, can’t hurt poison.

Location: Circuit of Americas, Austin, Hilton Austin, Room 017

Date and time: 22.10.2023, 11:23 PM

If the race was Charles’ thoughts, he'd be on his way breaking world records. 

Austin was a breath of hope, of unexpected outcomes, dare he say even happiness, for but a moment. At least until Saturday that is.

In the land of the free Charles remembers. He'd always been fascinated by hurricanes. Strong gusts of wind, rotating, never ending. Chaotic, destructive yes, but at the end of the day, thoughtless. 

When he was 12, receiving the knowledge of his fathers diagnosis was something he could not comprehend. Theoretically, he understood. But he was innocent, young, driven and his dad was smiling every day. By now he recognizes denial when he sees it, ironically enough, but he would never be able to detest his young self for the way he dealt with it.

He stumbled upon the phenomenon of the hurricane in school, but he discovered the existence of its eye at his own hands late under his covers, where the world stopped rotating. It was still, it waited.

Sometimes, Charles feels like he is a small eye, being surrounded by fury. A small eye twitching, turning, searching for knowledge, but life, life was the whirlwind around him. Inescapable, unavoidable, transient. When he got small glimpses of the other eyes and their hurricanes, he'd see how different theirs were. Some eyes’ hurricane ended, but started again as a gentle wind. Some eyes’ hurricane slowed down. Some eyes’ hurricane transformed into a shape. This hurricane didn't rotate, it touched the eye. That eye hurt. Some eyes’ were the hurricane. Some eyes’, like the one with the shaped hurricane, became the hurricane. 

Water has surrounded him his whole life. Monaco itself, with its gorgeous views and extraordinary lavishness, is caressed by the sea every day. 

He's surrounded by water yet he cannot have it. It's salty, unattainable, so far away from helping him, healing him, letting him live.  It's right under his eyes and around his cheeks, under his chin, drip dripping, but it's just not right.

Charles was thirsty as a child when pushing his hurricane into a puddle of water.

Charles is parched as an adult when feeling the water escape his windows.

Charles has this feeling, that he'll never really be quenched.

And the water he has had contact with for the past years, is just not right. It’s never blue enough.

Grief was sadness. It was tears shed and unshed, bleeding hearts, unheard screams, untouchable breaths. 

Grief was anger. It was rage, it was blinding, it was fury.

Grief shapes you, changes you even.

But the thing with grief, is that you can shape it back.

So Charles learned from previous open wounds. His grief became a weapon. A double sided sword.

When he lost his godfather, Charles raced. 

When he lost his father, Charles won and Charles lied.

When he lost his friend, Charles became Destiny.

Il predestinato was born and it felt like a phoenix.

It died, it crumbled and it fell, but it returned, temporarily, as the hurricane. In an unending cycle, that phoenix is not leaving anymore. Its ashes will whirl around his cheeks and hide under his skin, under his eyes asleep, awaiting. 

It feels like a curse on bad days, a blessing on others.

Red.

If you ask people about a remarkable color, red would show up in most of their answers. Its meaning infinite. Its solitude finite.

Red is potent, sexy, hot, scary, bright, passionate, too much, not enough. Red is there. Red is everywhere. Red is history. Charles, in quiet nights and loud thoughts, decides that he hates history.

History is in him, pumping through his heart. History is wrapped around him. History protects him in case of red, hot, burning, fire. History made people hope, dare. 

History was his expectation, from others. 

History is his future.

He touched history’s hand on his deathbed, he lied to history.

He stole history too early, so he points at it any time it's made. Up in the sky. Next to his heart.

He tried to make history proud, but history can’t answer.

Saying all of this he can't deny that he himself, Charles Leclerc, is the poison, the eye, the phoenix, the thirst, the sword, the history. It trails after him, caught in his shadow, climbing, crawling towards the light. 

But the poison has an antidote.

That eye attracts life, it gets scraped, but never hurt.

The phoenix rises.

The water is filtered, it's close.

The sword dulls on the side that isn't used.

The history is the past, present and the yet to be discovered.

And hope.

Hope stands tall, leans over, checks, and it sees. It doesn't leave, it just hides. He catches glimpses of it outside of his hurricane. Hopes for hope to slip in. But that's not enough.

And Charles Leclerc may have learned new lessons and lived more years, but he'd be damned if he doesn't catch what he wants. He will stretch, he will climb, he will throw. He is Success and Success is him. 

He will take it, he will earn it, he will hold it up in the air and he will swing it at his hurricane with water. His hurricane which never leaves, always follows. His hurricane who balances history with respect.

Respect is blue.

And Charles is a World Champion.

CHARLES LECLERC SEALS THE 2025 WORLD CHAMPIONSHIP BY A LANDSLIDE

Charles Marc Hervé Perceval Leclerc seals his Maiden Championship, Max Verstappen in second place, Lando Norris, with a promising future, occupies the third place.

December 8, Abu Dhabi

“This is for Jules, this is for Papa. But most importantly, this is for me.” says the young 27 year old.

Becoming the first driver since 2007 to win Ferrari a Championship, Charles Leclerc took this year by a storm. His teammate, Carlos Sainz was on the podium in Abu Dhabi, alongside him. 

The young man has shown promising career results since his phenomenal win in F2 and impressive debut year with Sauber in 2018. 

Leclerc joined Ferrari in 2019, alongside 4 time World Champion, Sebastian Vettel. The next few years were a whirlwind of emotions with the highest highs and the lowest lows. He has dedicated all of them to his godfather Jules Bianchi (17), who helped shape him into the man he is today, and unfortunately passed away after a crash in his career, and his father Hervé Leclerc, who passed away when Leclerc was only 19. 

Watch Charles Leclerc's first race as a world champion in the Abu Dhabi GP on Sunday live on Sky Sports F1.

-End-

Notes:

Some explanations cause I love analyzing:

The poison is Charles' mind.

He is the eye of the hurricane. The hurricane mostly represents life.

There is a mention of a hurricane that takes shape and hurts its eye. That is Max's father, who had full control of his life and decisions. Max growing up and succeeding allowed him to become a hurricane himself, with his amazing rise to success and emotional growth. However he is and will always be inexplicably attracted to Charles. The hurricane rotates around its eye after all.

The water if its drinkable represents success (at the end, the champagne), in most of the cases before he manages to succeed however, it was salty, like the sea and like his tears. The windows of the soul of which the water escapes from, are his eyes.

Grief is pretty self explanatory but it became double edged the moment he was willing to sacrifice his career for the impossible, Ferrari.

Red is history and history is him immediately means Ferrari during its years, and the impact it had on people close to him. History takes the shape of his father on his deathbed, and the shape of Jules in the sky. His history holds him back, at first at least.

History is balanced by Respect. Respect is blue. He swings the water at his hurricane. These are all direct representatives of Max Verstappen and his impact on Charles' life.

Please note that no matter how much I am writing here, it is all artistic speculation of what Charles himself has decided to show the world. Do not forget that these drivers are real people.

I wrote this after feeling quite low so I do reflect some of my own thoughts here.

Thank you so much for the dividers to @cafekitsune and @saradika ! They are so pretty!

And the amazing picture editing to @nesaluvstherecoms ! I love you bitch.

Thank you so much for reading! It would mean a lot if I managed to get some comments or reposts!

If you like this, I have written more stories that can be found on my Formula 1 masterlist. Including: Lestappen and Landoscar with more to come. If it manages to spark your interest, please go support those as well!

im delulu because i think that charles will be world champion this season