Latest Posts by thepredstnd - Page 3

take my hand

another 3k celebration blurb! this time, best friends to lovers with lando for my dear friend lee @scuderiahoney 💛 i hope you all love this one, it's an apology for unrequited love!lando lol no heartbreak this time, folks!!! i'm being nice!!!! set at the 2024 spanish gp but definitely some inaccuracies with the post race timeline and also please pretend max fewtrell was there pairing: lando norris x fem best friend!reader word count: 3.2k (this was supposed to be a blurb wtf is wrong with me) summary: it can be so easy to fall in love with your best friend, and it can also be incredibly hard to imagine a world where they love you back. in this world, you're one of the lucky ones. tw: short but steamy makeout scene, mild cursing

Loving Lando Norris was so astonishingly easy. It came as naturally as breathing for you and has for over half of your life.

You met so many years ago but it still feels like yesterday that he reached out to you and said, “take my hand”, pulling you gently off the ground while the other children laughed at your clumsiness. He told you that they laughed at him too – he was short, shorter than you even at that age, and he struggled to read and write. You vowed that day to always pick each other up when you fell or faltered, always stand by each other’s side even when everyone else was laughing, and although it was a promise made between two children, neither of you had ever broken it.

Smiling at the memory, you were off in your own little world – thinking about the days when he would pick you “flowers” at recess (you didn’t have the heart to tell him they were weeds) and you would always share half of your cookie at lunch.

A voice pulled you from your trance, making you jump slightly at the sudden interruption.

“What are you thinking about? Or should I say who are you thinking about with that dopey smile on your face?”

You turned to face Max Fewtrell, a staple in both yours and Lando’s lives for just as long as you’d known each other.

“I was just thinking about where we’ll go for a celebratory dinner after the race. I’ve been craving gourmet pasta and a fruity cocktail.”

“Right, and my name is Willy Wonka. You don’t have to tell me the truth, it’s fine! Just thought I’d let you know he’s looking for you, he wants you in the garage for the race.”

Your heart swelled – even though Lando asked you to be there for every race you could attend, it never failed to make you giddy. You nodded your head at Max, he smirked back at you, and you walked as quickly as possible to the McLaren garage without calling attention to yourself.

As soon as you stepped into the garage, you ran straight into Oscar and the force almost knocked you to the floor.

“Oh thank god you’re here,” he groaned. “Lando’s insufferable, asking where you are every five minutes.”

“Where is he? In his driver’s room?”

“Yeah, that’s where I last saw him headed,” Oscar yelled over his shoulder, walking towards his car. “Go work your magic on him!”

You rolled your eyes as you walked the familiar route to Lando’s driver’s room, your heart rate picking up a bit the closer you got to it. As soon as you were in front of the door, you knocked once and paused, then twice in quick succession, and once more after another brief pause – the secret knock you’d been using for years to let each other know you were there.

The door swung open almost immediately after your last knock and a frantic Lando yanked you inside. He flopped down on the couch behind him and covered his face with his hands – even though you couldn’t see his face, you knew he had a frown and furrowed brow.

“Thank god you’re here now, I’ve been going insane. I need you to tell me that I’m going to win this race – now that I’ve won once, it’s fucking brutal being so close yet so far. Canada was a nightmare and today I’m starting on pole. They’ll eat me alive if I don’t convert it into a win and I don’t know if I can handle that.”

You sat next to him and gently peeled his hands from his face, glassy green eyes, flushed cheeks, and, just as you predicted, a frown and furrowed brow.

“I can’t tell you that you’re going to win, Lando,” you started to say until he interrupted you with a groan, pushing your hands away.

“Hey,” you whispered. “I can’t tell you that you’re going to win, but what I can tell you is that no matter what, I’m proud of you. Max is proud of you. Your family is proud of you. Your fans are proud of you. So many people love you and see what you’re capable of – winning a race, not winning a race, it doesn’t define you. You’re the hardest worker I know, you’re kind, you are the most wonderful friend. I’ll celebrate you even if you come plum last pushing a burning, front wing-less car across the line and so will everyone else who knows and loves you.”

By the time you’d finished rambling, Lando’s shoulders had visibly relaxed and he was smiling. Not the goofy smile with his teeth on full display but a smile was a smile, you would take what you could get.

“Thank you for always being there for me. I can’t promise I won’t be pissed if I lose today but at least I feel better now, thanks to you.”

You punched his arm lightly, jokingly, and rolled your eyes. “We made a promise, didn’t we? I’ll always be there for you, always there to pick you up, even if your inability to see how wonderful you are makes me want to scream.”

“Yeah, yeah, I’m perfect, you love me, I’m the greatest thing that’s ever happened to you, your days are miserable without me, tell me something I don’t know,” he jested, nudging your shoulder before standing and holding out his hand to help you up.

“In your dreams, Norris,” you scoffed. “Make sure that big head of yours still fits in your helmet before you get in the car.”

He laughed loudly as he led you out of his driver’s room, finally smiling the goofy smile you loved so dearly. The moment was short-lived – someone from his team called his name and he hugged you briefly before jogging towards them, yelling over his shoulder that he wanted you waiting for him in Parc Ferme after the race.

You shouted your agreement, hoping and praying he hadn’t noticed the rapid beating of your heart or how warm your cheeks were when he pulled you into that brief embrace. Although he had said it all to rile you up, you truly did think the world of him. He was the greatest thing that had ever happened to you. In your eyes, he was as perfect as a person could be, and oh, did you love him. You loved him far more than a friend should and it was getting increasingly more difficult to keep that to yourself.

As Lando pulled his car in front of the P2 sign, you felt the familiar burning of guilt running through your veins.

Maybe you should have told him he would win. Insisted on it, actually. You should have been adamant that he would rise to the occasion and to the top step of the podium once again.

He wouldn’t want to see you, you were quite sure of that, and despite your promise to be waiting for him with his team, you tried to sneak away unnoticed. You’d slowly made it far back enough to be swallowed by the sea of people until an arm blocked you from getting any further.

You looked up to see Lando’s race engineer with a disapproving look on his face and instantly felt like your father had just caught you trying to sneak out after curfew.

“He wants you here and he’s going to need you here,” Will shouted over the noise of the crowd.

“I think I’m the last person he wants to see right now, I wouldn’t promise him that he would win. I basically jinxed his whole race trying to keep him from being so hard on himself. What if he thinks I don’t believe in him?”

“I’m not even going to dignify that with a response,” Will snorted. “Now please get back up there quickly so you’re the first person he sees when he gets out of that car.”

With the help of Will, you were pushed gently back to the front just in time to see Lando haul himself out of his McLaren. His body language was obvious – disappointment, sorrow, embarrassment, and your heart ached as you listened to the roaring cheers from the Red Bull team as Max launched himself into their arms.

You knew Lando would be running every possible scenario through his mind – what if he had gotten a better start, what if he’d managed tires just a bit better, what if George hadn’t been able to sail through at the start and he hadn’t had to back off of fighting Max. All of those thoughts a natural, valid response, but if he voiced any of them out loud he’d get torn to pieces by both journalists and fans of other drivers.

When he peeled his balaclava from his face your stomach twisted and you silently begged him to look your way – for him to find a face in the crowd that was so unwaveringly proud of him through everything, but he kept his eyes trained anywhere but you or his team.

Finally, you saw his eyes flicker to you, and he walked briskly toward where you and the few members of his team were waiting. Wordlessly, he pulled you into his arms and exhaled so deeply it felt as if he’d been holding his breath since the end of the race.

“You drove beautifully,” you whispered, combing your fingers through the sweat-dampened curls on his head. “I love you, you know that, right?”

Lando’s arms immediately loosened around you and his head was turned away from you, he wouldn’t, or couldn’t, look you in the eye.

“We’ll talk later, I have to go do my interview,” he mumbled. “Wait for me in my driver’s room, okay?”

You nodded your head even though he was already walking away from you, shoulders slumped and jaw clenched. Honestly, you weren’t sure what hurt worse – the fact that you could physically see his disappointment or that he didn’t say he loved you back.

It felt like hours before you heard an all too familiar knock on the door to Lando’s room – the door gently swinging open to reveal the tired face and frame of your best friend. He must have showered in Oscar’s room before coming to find you – the smell of champagne nowhere to be found yet his curls stuck slightly to his forehead. The sight was endearing, and it took everything in you to not pull him into you and bury yourself against his chest.

“You didn’t have to knock, it’s your room,” you spoke softly, adjusting your position on the couch.

“Force of habit, I guess.” The corner of his lip turned up when he answered you – a good sign, a sign that maybe he wasn’t angry with you at all about your earlier conversation.

Although it was Lando who asked to talk, you couldn’t help yourself from blurting out an apology as soon as he took a seat next to you.

“I’m so sorry about earlier,” you pleaded. “I should’ve said something different, I should’ve just said what you wanted me to say. I meant all of it, every word, but you asked me to reassure you in a specific way and I didn’t.”

Lando blinked a few times as he stared at you, his mouth falling open in shock? Amusement? You couldn’t tell, but at least he didn’t appear to be mad.

“Do you think I’m angry with you?”

“Well, yes,” you mumbled. “I probably jinxed your race.”

“Jinxed it? If anything, you’re the reason I finished second. I kept thinking about what you told me instead of focusing on how I screwed up – it kept my head in the race.”

“But, but,” you stammered, “you didn’t say you loved me back. In Parc Ferme, when you were hugging me. You always say it back, I thought you were furious with me.”

“Would I have walked over only to hug you if I was furious with you?”

You felt a little embarrassed at your panic – “I suppose not, you probably would’ve stayed as far away from me as possible.”

“Exactly, you silly muppet,” he teased, a ghost of a smile gracing his lips. “I didn’t say it back because I realized that it means something different for both of us and I, believe it or not, got scared.”

Your eyes widened and you felt like you were going to be sick. He knew. You shouldn’t have been surprised, everyone had figured it out – his pit crew, Will, Zak, Oscar, Oscar’s girlfriend the literal first time you met her, all of your friends and family, even drivers on different teams had made comments to you in passing over the years.

“Lando, I,” you tried to get ahead of it, ahead of the rejection and the awkwardness, but he cut you off with a raised hand and a pleading look.

“Please, just let me get this out or I never will,” he begged. “I think I’ve always known, or at least everyone around me has just always told me that it’s painfully obvious, but I didn’t fully realize it until earlier today. You care about me so much, more than anyone, and I’m almost positive I could be the lousiest driver, lawyer, engineer, teacher, architect, whatever, and you’d still always be proud of me. You’d be there for me regardless with a giant smile on your face, an “I love you”, and a hug that would heal any self-doubt or negative thoughts. You mean everything to me and I don’t know what I would do without you but – ”

You waited with bated breath, your leg bouncing uncontrollably and heart hammering in your chest. Waiting for the “but I don’t feel the same”, “but I see you as a friend”, for the inevitable heartbreak.

“But I can’t keep my feelings a secret anymore, even if it might ruin everything, but I have to believe it won’t because we can get through anything together. I love you, Y/N, more than anyone in this world, more than a friend, more than I ever thought it would be possible to love someone. I’m saying it back now, hoping that you feel the same because it’ll be incredibly awkward if you don’t, but that’s what I had to tell you first. I love you. I think I always have.”

It felt like the earth had stopped moving, time frozen and only you and Lando existed in this moment, only you existed in the entire universe. Your thoughts raced with what to say back – something romantic? Should you just jump into his arms and kiss him senseless like you’d dreamed about for years? Unfortunately, you landed on something far less eloquent.

“You what?” Your shout echoed in his driver’s room, if anyone was within a ten-foot radius they surely would have heard you.

“Well, I guess that’s not the worst reaction,” Lando pondered, looking away from you bashfully. “Nora Powell stomped on my foot when I told her I liked her. Do you remember that? I think it was Year 10?”

You did remember – it was quite a horrendous memory for you, actually, as that’s the year you realized you had a crush on your best friend.

“Oh, I was so jealous of her,” you blurted. “I cornered her at lunch the next day and told her she was the luckiest girl in the world and a certified idiot for turning you down.”

His head snapped back to look at you, a hopeful glint in his eye.

You smiled at Lando, tentatively cupping his cheek. “I suppose I’m the luckiest girl in the world now, to love and be loved by the most incredible man I’ve ever known.”

“Oh no,” he insisted, “I promise you, I’m the lucky one.”

He kissed you once gently, tentatively, his lips barely brushing yours before he pulled you into his lap and slid his hands to rest on your neck, his thumbs caressing your cheeks. In an instant, he was kissing you breathless, licking into your mouth as you whined and pressed yourself against him.

One roll of your hips had him panting, a hand leaving your face to slide under your shirt, leaving a trail of fire until he stopped and squeezed just under your breast. You were dizzy with desire and full of so much love for the man underneath you – he was intoxicating, you never wanted to stop kissing him, you never wanted to know the feeling of his hands not wandering your body.

You tugged his hair lightly, just enough to disconnect his lips from yours even though it pained you to do so.

“I love you so much,” you muttered, a tear escaping from your eye. “I never thought – ”, you couldn’t even get the words out, choosing to bury your head into Lando’s neck as he gently rubbed your back.

“I know,” he whispered, lifting your head to kiss you senseless once again.

The two of you were so wrapped up in one another that neither of you heard a knock at the door or the turning of the knob. You did, however, hear the blood-curdling scream.

“Oh my god, my eyes,” Max groaned, slapping a hand over his face while he dramatically dry-heaved. “Get a room, you deviants!”

“Mate, we are literally in a room!” Lando shouted back, lifting you gently off his lap before he leapt to his feet and pushed Max backward. “We will see you back at the hotel.”

“Great, I’ll be bleaching my eyes out when you get there. For the record, I’ve always wanted this to happen, but I never wanted to see it.”

“Well, that’s your own fault,” you scolded. “Next time wait for a response before barging in somewhere.”

“Oh, believe me,” he stressed, “I’ll never be walking into any room you two are in ever again. Not even if there’s another fire and I’m the only one who can warn you to get out.”

“The dramatics are unnecessary but you do need to leave,” Lando insisted, pointing out the door.

“Yes, absolutely, but before I go, who confessed first?”

“Lando did,” you said proudly. “I’m just irresistible, I guess.” Lando winked back at you, which you took to be an agreement.

“Damn it, I owe Piastri, Sainz, and Verstappen $100 each,” Max groaned. “Like they need my money. See you two lovebirds later!”

He shut the door so quickly that neither you nor Lando had time to react to the fact that your friends had been betting on you. It took a few rounds of looking back and forth at each other and then the closed door before you burst into giggles and fell back into the couch, clinging onto each other. You laughed a bit too hard, your hands leaving Lando to clutch at your ribs. Almost instantly, you felt yourself sliding off your seat, your bum hitting the floor with a thud.

You looked up to see Lando with his arm outstretched, a cheesy smile on his face as he repeated the same words he said to you so many years ago.

“Take my hand.”

And just like you did that fateful day, you grabbed on, let him pull you up, and fell in love all over again. 

----------------------

taglist: @scuderiahoney @lam-ila @anaviieiraaa @nebarious @chocolatepoetryfun @maxlarens @coff33andb00ks @katsu28 @sof1shticated @viikysmile

if you would like to be added to my taglist please refer to this post!

if haas keeps kmag for next season considering the shit he's pulled fighting for hulk's life this year i can only imagine his dynamic with ollie will be something along the lines of the "morally grey action hero becomes entrusted with the care of a small child" trope

btw the reason why max doesn’t drive as dirty against charles as he does against others is because he learnt at a very formative age that charles wouldn’t hesitate to literally divebomb him off the track

praying for a ver lec pia podium at silverstone just to really piss of the brits

"Bring back cunty F1" "Bring back F1 drivers who don't care about PR and just say what they think" "Bring back F1 where the drivers are actually allowed to be rivals"

You fools. You insolent buffoons. You can't handle the Ferrari drivers taking shots at each other in separate interviews. You can't handle Max saying what everyone else is thinking. You can't even handle Lando Norris existing. And you think you would survive watching Multi-21 happen in real time? Or, God forbid, classic F1? I'm laughing.

the teammate relationship in f1 is everything to me. he's your best friend he's your sworn enemy, he's giving you a tow he's going for the undercut, i'm faster than him let me pass why did you let him pass he hit me we should not be competing. i would kill him in his sleep we are kissing with tongue it's all for the media we are sharing a private jet and hanging out on our free weekends. this sport has taken narrative foils and turned it up to eleven.

i was so fucking sad when i was 14 and now when i fold my laundry or see a pool of moonlight on the floor of my bedroom i know that miracles exist. i see love in everything. love sees everything in me too

Hannah Schmitz, Red Bull Racing’s Principal Strategy Engineer, as Athena, Greek Goddess of Strategic Warfare and Wisdom

some people think writers are so eloquent and good with words, but the reality is that we can sit there with our fingers on the keyboard going, “what’s the word for non-sunlight lighting? Like, fake lighting?” and for ten minutes, all our brain will supply is “unofficial”, and we know that’s not the right word, but it’s the only word we can come up with…until finally it’s like our face got smashed into a brick wall and we remember the word we want is “artificial”.

I love the fact that the Max-Charles-Pierre photo is actually the second pic, yet Charles put it on his instagram story. Charles literally put the Lestappen divorce to the grave not bed

This!

Charles saw the Lestappen divorce rumor and went "Not on my fucking watch".

the many faces of oscar piastri

Charles Leclerc as Christ Crowned with Thorns Max Verstappen as The Fallen Angel

It's the first time in ages that I use tumblr for sharing content that was created by me, but I'm kinda proud of this one, so I hope someone enjoys seeing it as much as I did doing it!

techniques: photomanipulation (Adobe Photoshop), this is not painting or AI!

everyone who is shittalking charles’ crimes can NOT call themselves sebastian fernando or schumi fans because those sexy bitches were out there committing actual geneva convention violations on the daily.

they would look at charles’ so called crimes and laugh

lando v george is twink v lesbian but in race cars

Formula 1 and Home Races - Disconnect between Marketing and Fan Expectations

Home races are a very exciting thing in Formula 1, for the fans and for the drivers. The teams make sure to capitalize on bringing attention to their driver and their home race.

But there is a problem with the way teams and fans think about home races. It leads to a big disconnect of expectations from the fans, and often leads to frustration aimed at teams or even individual drivers.

What is a Home Race?

A home race is a race taking place in the home country- sometimes even home city or region - of a driver. Not all drivers have a home race, but given the international nature of the sport there are often quite a few home races to look forward to in any given season.

For the drivers a home race is special. They get to be in front of a home crowd, show what they can do on track, make an exciting weekend for their home fans and even friends and family. These home races are usually more emotional as they are a part of a driver's journey in Formula 1. Winning your home race is often a goal of drivers who are lucky enough to have a home race on the calendar.

To the fans a home race is fun. It celebrates their favorite driver and also puts a spotlight on their country and city. Home races can really create a great sense of community between international fans and local fans. Fans also appreciate getting to see their driver have this more emotionally impactful part of their F1 journey.

To the teams a home race means two things: marketing and money. Teams do not really care about home races. Not in the emotional way they present. They use them for marketing if a driver on their team has a home race, they will take full advantage making them do more media leading up to the race, arranging special events, custom merchandise. One the surface it looks like they care, and they do, but only about the money and success than can be gained for the team. The actual race and outcome for the fans and the driver are second consideration.

The Disconnect

The final two points above are the disconnect we often see in Formula 1. Fans are very attached to the fantasy of a home race, the larger than life feeling, the emotional journey, the sense of real community. While teams are more concerned with money, they always have been and they always will be.

Teams are very good at marketing. They will make emotional videos, often filming their driver sharing their emotional journey. And fans naturally see this kind of content and believe that this emotional message from the driver to the fans is also shared by the team. When it isn't.

Teams aren't heartless, there are humans that care working behind the scenes. But the feelings are very secondary to the results and money. They are not going to do anything differently simply because of emotional impact for fans.

So what we often see is this setup of expectations from fans where a driver is “the main character” to the team for their home race weekend. And teams do a good job of making it appear that is the case on social media, they will often post more stats and pictures of the home race driver. But then teams don't give any special treatment to a home race driver on track and fans are left confused and sometimes hurt.

Because to a team it is a marketing tool. That's it. When the home race driver gets a result they lean into it more, hype of the mythology of the winning driver, the journey to winning it.

Make no mistake, regardless of the outcome teams see it as a marketing opportunity. Nothing more nothing less. Expecting more will only result in disappointment.

The biggest disconnect between the teams and fans is that there is the fan expectation a driver will get special treatment on track because it is their home race. That is not a reason to give a driver any kind of preferential treatment on track, it never has been and it never will be. The only thing that matters on track is a driver's performance, if they are fastest they will get priority, if they aren't then they won't home race or not.

Naturally this can lead to situations where a driver does not outperform their teammate during a race weekend, and fans are upset that the teammate seemingly got more support. When they didn't, teams run races the same way they always do regardless of location, the difference is the perception of fans due to the fact it's a home race.

The Press

The press also feed into this issue. They will naturally interview the home driver. They will run more thinkpieces on them, highlight their successes thus far, and naturally pull on the emotional weight of a home race. This is for entertainment. They know fans want to see the home driver so they give them that content.

And again this kind of spotlighting really skews expectations for the team's treatment of the driver on track.

All of this paints a very emotional picture that fans want to buy into, because of course they are attached to the home driver. However the fact it is all just entertainment and marketing is rarely clear.

I do not want to call fans stupid for “falling” for marketing. I do want to point out that teams never say they are going to give preferential treatment to a driver because it's their home race. The only reason they will do that is if that driver is faster. And if the home driver is faster they will say afterwards “we were happy to be able to help X win his home race that is always special” and people will think that meant special treatment was given, when again, it wasn't. The teams do what they always do.

I write all this to make people aware that this is marketing. As a fan I am emotional for my driver and their home race. I don't expect the team to care, and I try to take the content they put out for what it is, a marketing tool. It isn't a promise, it's to generate interest in the team and to sell team and driver specific merch.

Example

I want to examine the most recent example of this disconnect that has been seen with the Ferrari drivers. Both Charles and Carlos have a home race on the calendar.

In Monaco Ferrari made posts leading up to Charles' home race, he had the spotlight in the media.

On track nothing special was done for Charles. They ran the same program they intended to all weekend. Charles qualified on pole and won the race from pole. The important thing to note is that he qualified ahead of his teammate, that is the reason he got priority from the team, because he was faster, it did not have anything to do with the fact that it was his home race.

Ferrari didn't do anything different or special on track because it was Charles' home race. But because he won the perception that he got a lot more from the team is there.

Cut to Spain. Carlos' home race.

Ferrari do the same thing in the media, the attention is on Carlos.

On track nothing is different. Ferrari ran the program they had planned and no preferential treatment was given. Even the choice to upgrade Carlos' car first for a free practice session had nothing to do with it being his home race, it was about them wanting to compare data and they made the choice based on who was going to produce the best data with the older car model.

In qualifying Charles qualified ahead of Carlos. He was faster, and in the race this was also the case, Charles' pace was faster than Carlos. Ferrari did what they always do: support the faster driver. The softs they saved were for whoever was fastest. Charles was fastest. Carlos got no preferential treatment.

The only difference in these two weekends was not the way Ferrari treated either driver, they were treated the same on track. The difference was that Charles was fastest during his home race, and Carlos was not fastest during his. That's the only thing the team cares about, they do not care about the emotional impact of a home race unless the outcome is positive. If a driver wants to win their home race they have to be fastest. It's that simple.

I use Ferrari as an example here, but this applies to every single driver who has a home race. This goes beyond any one team and any given race or year.

So you can see how the media and team social marketing set up expectations for fans. They create this beautiful idea of a home race celebrating a driver. There is an implicit promise that the team care more about this driver for the home race weekend. The media draw attention to this driver, repeat over and over "how much this will mean for him" and fans believe it. Why shouldn't they? As a fan it's something people want to believe. But it is just talk. It doesn't translate to the track. And it leads to disappointment most of the time if the expectations are there.

Of course the few times a home race is won and we get that fairly tale ending the social media and press pieces feed into this idea that it's possible, that a team engineered the entire weekend to get a driver a win. When in reality the team just did what they would do any weekend to secure the faster driver the win.

It's healthy for fans to be aware of this reality. To be aware of the reason home races are valuable. And to know to temper expectations.

Conclusion

As fans have fun with a home race. Celebrate your driver's story and the country. However do not go into a weekend expecting anything special on track, that is setting yourself up for disappointment. The teams are here to win, not to fulfill narrative fairy tales. Understand that marketing does not mean anything about what a team will do on track.

made up f1 tweets yeow

congratulations to max on finally reaching the final stage of his lecfosi hustle (unconditional delusion)

this came to me in a dream

you might bethinking "its so over" but the sun will rise tomorrow and youll be like "omg. its so back." remember this

Charles: just for your info I think we have around- I mean do you want to know the margins ?

Pit: No, Charles. We're not interested. We know.

Charles: you said no right?

Pit: NO! We are NOT interested.

Charles: das rude ://

shout out to george russell for being the only bitch who doesn't quiver and move out of the way the second max verstappen is in his mirrors much less for a whole race. merc you better kiss the ground this man walks on or istg.

Oh my-

Home is where the heart is, here we go Monaco! 🏎️🇲🇨🫀✨

spot the difference

You are laughing! Nicole Piastri’s only son sold himself to a Monégasque member of One Direction and you are laughing?

it’s media day but why have i seen no one ask charles or oscar about oscar being adopted

me, trying to explain to my dad why Oscar Piastri is now Oliver Bearman's brother, and they are both brothers to the dachshund puppy

Im not saying they look like each other’s pets but…

THEY TOTALLY LOOK LIKE EACH OTHER’S PETS RIGHT???

Whoever invented "open in app" links that redirect you to the app store instead of actually opening the app even when you already have the app installed on your phone should be involuntarily turned into a beanbag chair