Happy Oh-crap-oh-no-it's-a-level-exams And/or Any Other Final Exams To All Those Who Celebrate!

i just KNOW that when george russell retires he's going to release the cuntiest tell-all memoir of all time. i see his bitch face in interviews and i KNOW there's more drama going on that he will spill in about a decade. very excited.

AAA! AAAAAAAAAAAA!!!!! first podium with kmag (his husband) in the garage and with a 27 (27!!!!!) second gap to the car in front <3 dream shit

A short story for Lance Stroll (P9) and Lando Norris (P8) after the sprint race, here on AO3 or under the cut!

The important thing, for Lance, is that it is quiet, the place where he has hunkered around the back of the Aston Martin motorhome, in a little used alleyway threading around the paddock; he doesn't particularly want to talk to anyone today, after that sprint race, knocked just out of the points even though he has beaten his teammate again, because he knows what sort of things that they'll be saying about him - accusations of nepotism, of a lack of skill and talent, of not wanting to be there, as if Lance had not driven with to ruined wrists to prove that he does want it, that he wants it just as much as anyone else on the grid, even if he hides his desire between placid smiles and drawling casualness.

But if there's someone else who wants it more than Lance then its Lando - and Lance had known, climbing out of his car behind the orange (papaya, he corrects himself, with a roll of his eyes) of a McLaren, that it's not going to be the last that Lance hears about their race, about Lando kept at bay behind him only to triumph for one measly point, hardly the commanding lead that he had wanted in his bid to cement the championship in his favour.

Sure enough, Lando finds him at the back of Aston, in a whirlwind of orange (papaya) fury - most of it, Lance knows (because he, somehow, has gotten to know Lando very well recently) is directed inwards at himself, the sharp and ragged edge of disappointment in what he feels he could achieve harsher than any knife edge, but it still makes him shrink into himself a little, as if he can spare himself from the storm that is brewing in front of him; he's heard people talk about Lando's sharp tongue and sharper temper, but so far Lando has been kind to him, horrendously and brilliantly kind in a way that Lance really hasn't expected from many people, except teammates (who do not count, because it is really their job to at least put up with Lance) and Esteban, who is too nice for his own good when he is out of the car.

So, he doesn't want it to change - selfishly, he had hoped that he could keep Lando's kindness all for himself, to hoard it when things felt like they were terrible, as a reminder that there is someone out there who sees Lance and knows him and likes him - and the thought of seeing Lando's eyes turn cold and cruel, of being caught on the skewering end of the furious passion that Lance knows and has felt, as someone else left out on the wings of adrenaline and failure, is a sobering one; except the recrimination that Lance has been waiting for never comes, and he watches, breath caught in the back of his throat, as Lando's anger melts away and his face crumples in on itself the second that he sees Lance waiting for him.

Lance makes a noise of concern in the pack of his throat and Lando hurls himself - hurls himself, as if every second with the distance between Lance and himself existing is excruciating, and he needs nothing more than to close it immediately - into Lance's arms, his own winding in a crushing grip around Lance's neck, his face following to bury itself in the crook between his shoulder and neck, curls tickling the bottom of Lance's cheek; there's a moment in which Lance doesn't quite know what to do (because, yes, Lando is always overly touchy, but not like this, never like this) but then instinct takes over and he's sweeping Lando up in the best hug he can muster, trying to suffuse all his comfort and understanding that he can into the contact - because sometimes silence doesn't mean not caring, nor the nonchalance that people accuse Lance of, but only that words aren't needed to say what is most important.

f1rpf race roll

roll two 20-sided dice 🎲

watch the race (and the grid positions that match your rolls) 👀

the drivers who place as your numbers are your ship 💋

write a 5 sentence fic, draw a doodle, link a song, etc ✨

Whoops my hand slipped.

WHO IS RUNNING THIS ACCOUNT

Thinking about how Yuki, Isack, Lewis, and Alex get labled as agressive and angry but Some Other People can act dangerously out of anger and that's fine

just re-watched Prost (2024) in honour of it being added to the BBC and i will never not cry other these old men

the problem with trying to advocate that your fave driver is the woketron-3000 is that you forget that (for the vast majority) 1. they're men 2. most of them are european men 3. they really really like money 4. they're dumb just accept you like them as drivers and move on, or don't, i mean is actually pretty funny watching people juggle the narrative to try to justify them

(also im not trying to say that you shouldn't point it out their character flaws, just don’t parade them around like you’re about to vote for them in your city council, you know)

"You need to break the time loop. Stop trying to save me. I love you."

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don’t flirt with me or i’ll fixate on you for the rest of my life