#<- and if not real world than watching media

[gayhornythoughts]

Alright time for my thoughts on the root of this problem. I think a lot of it is inthat USAmericans arent Insentivized to learn culturally. Knowledge is not a virtue here, its seen as a road which leads to Financial Gain. Im a USAmerican, and I do believe we as a whole are culturally insensitive fuckwits who know nothing on aversge, but I think its in-part due to values pushed on us since childhood. The whole fucking country is a cult of its own.

"You live in America!! The land of the FREE!!! All you need to care about is us!! All those pansy wimps out in places like "Europe" and.. other countries.. they dont have what we do! We have power! Education! Wealth and Pride!"

Thats what most fucking americans here are like. Its insufferable and exhausting. The reason they dont research outside this shithole is because they think that the place they live is so perfect that no one elses lives matter. The world revolves around them.

In their mind, all the information they need is on how to fit in to American society.

"Everything AMERICAN MADE is SUPERIOR to anything from ANYWHERE ELSE"

This is something you hear a lot. That American Manufacturing for one reason or another is higher quality than any other. The closest competitors you hear of here is Sweden for Furniture (IKEA brand) or Germany for anything... generally Engineered. I think the IKEA thing is more a testament to IKEA's quality and advertising prowess than anything, but that's besides the point.

I think this mindset is why so many American reactionaries state that what they see outside of the country is Wrong. We're heavily sensationalized from birth with excessive amounts of propaganda about how amazing our country is. Our flaws are almost NEVER made the focal point here unless it's via an artist or writer whose art inevitably becomes another fucking brick of fuel for the capitalist machine.

So, ive established my theory on the mindset. American propaganda and American Sensationalism are heavily ingrained into our society as a whole. Education and knowledge is seen as a tool to get more income rather than to truly learn about the world around you. So, with the majority of Americans not looking into the outside world (They live in the best place after all, why would they?), how do they learn about countries outside of their own?

Why, through movies and shows of course!!

Everything Americans know about outside their country generally comes from Television and Film. Or at least it was before smart phones got in the hands of every living human on earth.

Media depicts countried as highly stereotyped typically. Mexico universally gets The Yellow Filter and is shown almost exclusively as dusty deserts in TV and media. Old worn down roads with outdated infrastructure and watering hole towns which rely on bucket wells. France is depicted almost exclusively as Paris (the sensationalized paris mind you, not the real one. I hear its kinda shit there tbh, but im not knowledgeable on the topic). Germany and Ireland are shown as just.. alcoholics and bars everywhere. That kind of shit.

So. That somewhat explains people who are now in their mid twenties to late fourties and why this is impacting them, but what of the younger generations whose primary media has been mobile devices?

Well, Im not as confident on this as I am about the media stereotyping thought, but hear me out. I think due to the attention economy online being so intense, with advertisements being so aggressive and clickbait being so genuinely insane, why would a child reasonably go "Hm, I could watch 'I went down this Dark Tunnel and found THIS INSIDE?!?!?! NOT CLICKBAIT' but I would rather go to wikipedia and read up on the history of Brazil."

Part of why school is blamed might also fall back to presentation and teaching methods? A lot of historical teaching methods are extremely dry, and all of it is so fucking sanitized and propaganda laden that it MAKES SENSE that most people growing up here would HATE to research about the world. Most peoples favorite parts of school were the ones where they did ANYTHING BUT SPEND TIME IN CLASS!! The most tolerable classes from what I came to understand were the science classes for chemistry labs, math courses for at least building upon itself somewhat, and english for potentially having decent fiction/nonfiction to read up on.

Also, something I noticed was that Media Literacy was NOT BEING TEACHED!! People werent being taught how to extrapolate meaning from texts through most schooling, typically we were TOLD the meaning and told any other thoughts we had were wrong! This would build into the lack of analysis skills and the lack of desire to research!

Overall, really to TLDR this:

USAmericans are raised in a cult environment from the ground up Systematically. Societal views here revolve around individual potential for the raise of capital. Knowledge is not seen as inherently valuable, rather being a method for obtaining financial gain. Alongside this, our schooling system primes students to Not Question Anything They're Shown, spoonfeeding us propaganda in our history courses as well as in our English courses. Besides the propaganda, the teaching methodologies provide answers without room for flexibility or personal interpretations which inhibits the development of curiosity and the desire to learn about the world. Due to this lack of curiosity, the Average USAmerican only absorbs any information from the world via media which typically presents heavily flanderized and stereotyped. While the aversge person could learn, they have no Drive to due to a mix of propaganda and lack of attention span.

im american and i knew that like in kindergarten so i think some of you are just stupid sorry

[baigepueckers]

Caitlin Clark X Reader

Out of Frame

It’s not a flashy job, not in the way people outside of pro sports might think. But it matters. You handle content planning, player interviews, behind the scenes footage, postgame edits and those little viral moments that somehow make fans feel like they’re part of something bigger. You know when to post, how to frame a win, how to soften a loss. You’re always watching, always chasing that perfect 30 seconds that tells the story better than stats ever could.

You’re used to being needed. Not in the loud, dramatic sense, but in the way a team needs structure. Someone to tell the story right. Someone to catch the best moments as they happen and spin them into something fans can feel. You don’t need the spotlight…you just make sure it shines in the right direction.

Which is probably why you don’t notice the way Caitlin looks at you. Not really.

You see her, of course. You’re always seeing her. Behind your lens. In your peripheral. In the center of every thumbnail. But the way she sees you? That’s something different entirely.

To Caitlin, you’re not just a camera or a job title. You’re gravity.

She’s quiet about it, at first. Respectful. You’re staff. Professional. Probably out of reach. She tells herself it’s a harmless crush…something that will fade once the season gets hectic.

But it doesn’t.

It gets worse.

It starts in the gym. A week into the season, she catches sight of you perched on a stool near the wall, camera poised, headphones in. You’re laughing quietly at something Kelsey said…shoulders shaking, head tipped back…and the sound is muffled but real. You’re not looking at Caitlin. You’re not looking at anyone.

And she can’t look away.

Later, she can’t even remember if her shot went in. She only remembers the angle of your smile and the flutter of her stomach that followed.

You become a constant in her world. The season blurs…practice, travel, games, media obligations. She barely remembers what city she’s in most days. But then you walk into the room with your laptop and your clipboard and your hoodie sleeves baggy at your wrists, and suddenly she’s grounded again.

There’s a moment…three games in, when you adjust her mic for a postgame interview. Your fingers graze her collarbone. Barely a touch. She doesn’t breathe for five seconds.

She replays it in her head that night like it meant something. Like you felt it too.

She doesn’t sleep.

She finds excuses to talk to you. Always small. Always careful.

“Hey, that edit was sick, what song was that?”

“Mind if I tag you in this repost?”

“Do I look weird in that warmup shot, or is it just me?”

You always answer patiently, kindly, like you’re just doing your job. Which you are. But every time you speak to her…Caitlin feels like she’s winning something.

Every time you smile at her, it burns.

She starts to memorize things..your go to drink, the song you hum under your breath while editing, the way you chew the inside of your cheek when something’s not syncing right. She notices that you wear the same vintage Fever hoodie on road trips and that your phone screen is cracked in the corner and that your laugh gets softer when it’s late and you’re tired.

She knows it’s dangerous, how much she notices. How much she wants to notice.

How much she wants you.

One night in June, she walks past the media room at 11:42 PM. Lights off, but you’re still inside…just the glow of your laptop on your face, headphones around your neck. She shouldn’t knock. She should go to bed.

Instead, she lingers. Watching you work, jaw clenched in focus, hair pulled up in a way that drives her insane. She presses her fingers into the edge of the doorframe until they ache.

You look up.

She nearly turns around.

But then you smile.

“Couldn’t sleep?” you ask, voice quiet in the dark.

She shrugs. “Something like that.”

You tilt your head. “Wanna sit?”

She does.

You don’t notice it, but she looks at you like she’s memorizing. Like she’s cataloguing every part of you for the nights she’ll be alone. She watches the way your fingers fly across the keyboard. The way your lips press together when you’re deep in concentration. The way your leg bounces softly under the table, probably to whatever beat you’re hearing in your headphones.

“You’re really good at this,” she murmurs after a while.

You glance at her. “At editing?”

“At… all of it. Telling stories. Capturing people. Making us look like more than stats.”

Your lips tug into a smile. “Thanks.”

She wants to say, You make it hard not to notice you.

She wants to say, I think about you when I should be thinking about basketball.

She wants to say, I’m falling for you and you don’t even see it, do you?

Instead, she says, “You ever film yourself?”

You blink, confused. “No. Why would I?”

“I don’t know.” Her voice is low. Careful. “Just think it’s a shame. You’re always behind the scenes. Someone should show your side.”

You shake your head, smiling softly. “I’m better off out of frame.”

She swallows. Doesn’t argue.

But the thought claws at her the rest of the night.

Because you don’t know it, but you’re the whole picture to her.

A week later, Caitlin gets fouled hard mid game. She hits the court. Slides. The arena gasps. You gasp.

She doesn’t get up right away.

She hears her name shouted, hears her teammates’ voices, but the first one she really hears is yours. From the baseline. Soft, strained. Desperate.

“Caitlin.”

You’re not supposed to be that close. Not supposed to sound that shaken.

Later, after the trainers clear her, after she’s checked and iced and fine, she catches you watching her. From behind your camera, lips pressed tight, brow furrowed.

She waves a small “I’m okay” toward you.

And you…you smile. It’s brief. But it means everything.

She clings to it like a lifeline.

She starts drafting texts she’ll never send.

“You made me feel seen today. I don’t think I’ve ever had that before.”

“I keep trying to be normal around you and failing spectacularly.”

“Tell me to stop and I will. But God, I hope you don’t.”

She deletes them all.

She can’t risk it. Not yet. You’re too important. Too good. Too… unreachable.

But the yearning? The wanting?

It’s constant.

It’s everything.

[f1daydreamer]

Intro

“in which formula one driver lando norris and international popstar seraphina rivera are forced into a fake relationship to fix their reputations — and accidentally fall in love for real.”

---

Lando Norris had always flirted with chaos — fast cars, faster nights, and the kind of smile that made headlines. But after a whirlwind summer filled with blurry club photos, mystery blondes, and one especially viral video of him drunkenly mouthing “I don’t do relationships,” McLaren’s golden boy had burned his halo.

His image was wrecked. Sponsors were pulling away. Commentators were using words like immature and unstable. The brand he’d built — charismatic, cheeky, adored — was crumbling into tabloid mess.

His PR team had one plan left: romance redemption. A clean, committed, headline-perfect relationship.

On the other side of the world, Seraphina Rivera — or “Sera” to fans and front pages — was watching her empire tremble too.

At only nineteen, she was already a living legend. Three platinum albums. Fashion darling. Grammy girl. But a single photograph — her leaving a studio late at night with a married producer — had ignited a scandal she never saw coming. Whispers turned into wildfire: “Homewrecker popstar?” “Too young to be this reckless?” “Diva behavior at it again?”

It didn’t matter that the rumors weren’t true. The damage was done. And in Hollywood, truth never travels faster than gossip.

Their teams called an emergency summit in Paris.

Two PR nightmares. Two fading crowns.

One solution: date each other.

Publicly. Photogenically. Perfectly.

Lando needed stability. Sera needed innocence. The media needed a distraction.

And the world? The world was ready to eat it all up.

The rules were simple:

Weekly pap walks

Subtle touches at race weekends

Joint interviews

No real feelings

But no one warned them about the real danger:

what happens when fake starts to feel real?

Next Part

----

[inkolnito]

Paddock Confidential - Chapter 13.5: Antonelli's View - Pieces of a Puzzle

Pairing:

Oliver "Ollie" Bearman x Lira Räikkönen (Original Female Character )

Minor background pairings reflecting the real-life F1 grid (e.g., Charles Leclerc/Alexandra Saint Mleux)

Summary:

Rising F1 star Ollie Bearman navigates the intense pressure of his rookie season with Haas, juggling demanding team expectations and his close ties to Ferrari under the watchful eye of Fred Vasseur. His biggest challenge lies off-track: guarding his relationship with the enigmatic and fiercely private Lira, whose surprising motorsport knowledge and aversion to the spotlight hint at a complex past connected to one of the sport's icons. As Ollie fights for his future, their secret world threatens to unravel amidst paddock gossip, rivalries, and the ever-present Drive to Survive cameras. When exposure becomes inevitable, they must confront the consequences and find a way to navigate the relentless glare of the F1 world together.

Warnings and Notes:

Warnings: Depictions of anxiety, stress related to high-pressure environments (F1), mentions of past trauma (related to privacy/media intrusion), media scrutiny/harassment, potential minor F1-typical language.

Notes:

This is a work of fiction using real people (F1 drivers, personnel) as characters; their portrayals, actions, and relationships are fictionalized for the story.

I tried to follow IRL timeline in the previous chapters but the timeline will be diverted from now on

The relentless Austrian sunshine beat down on the tarmac of the Red Bull Ring paddock, reflecting harshly off the gleaming surfaces of the motorhomes and transporter trucks. Inside the cool, technologically advanced sanctuary of the Mercedes-AMG Petronas hospitality unit, Andrea Kimi Antonelli sat hunched over his laptop, ostensibly reviewing data from the morning's free practice session. Lines of telemetry squiggled across the screen – braking points, throttle traces, steering angles – the familiar language of his craft. But his mind wasn’t entirely on the delta between his laps and George Russell's benchmark. Instead, it kept drifting, circling back to a persistent, intriguing anomaly, a puzzle that didn’t quite fit: Lira Virtanen.

Ollie Bearman’s friend. The quiet, dark-haired Finnish girl who seemed to exist only on the very periphery of the F1 circus, yet occasionally revealed flashes of insight that belied her supposed detachment.

Antonelli frowned, tapping a pen absently against the screen displaying his Turn 3 performance. His memory replayed fragmented moments like disjointed data points: Jeddah, Ollie's chaotic Ferrari debut, and the sight of Lira slipping through a service door with the practiced ease of someone who belonged backstage, not a typical guest. Then Monaco, after FP3, where she'd casually dissected the tyre temperature drop-off over the reprofiled Swimming Pool kerb with a precision matching Mercedes' own internal analysis, referencing internal carcass temperatures and TPMS data interpretation. Her quick, almost too smooth, deflection about reading it in an article hadn't sat right. Where did a 'private researcher' gain that level of granular, comparative insight?

Adding to the puzzle was Ollie himself, usually open but becoming instantly guarded whenever Lira was mentioned. Antonelli recalled Ollie relaying an anecdote after Japan, trying to laugh off Lira knowing obscure details about drainage at Fiorano from a test day years ago, attributing it to 'random facts' from technical articles. Fiorano – Ferrari’s intensely private testing ground. Antonelli knew access was tightly controlled, and public articles didn't detail specific drainage from old test days. It implied presence, observation, something more than casual reading, and Ollie's forced casualness had only sharpened Antonelli's focus.

Then there were Lando Norris's comments after Australia – Lira speak fluent Finnish to Ollie, followed by her cagey reaction when Lando playfully probed about Finnish connections, specifically mentioning that Finnish world champion. Virtanen was a common enough Finnish name, plausible as an alias, but coupled with everything else... Finnish, intensely private, technically astute, comfortable yet invisible in the paddock. The pieces were forming a picture.

He minimized the telemetry window, pulling up the live paddock feed. Ollie was doing an interview near Haas. Antonelli scanned the periphery. There she was. Lira. Standing well back, partially hidden, phone in hand but eyes constantly scanning the surroundings, tracking movement, cameras, potential approaches. A familiar tension lay beneath the relaxed posture. As a TV camera panned nearby, she shifted subtly, turning away, shielded by her hair – an instinctive avoidance he’d seen before.

It reminded him, faintly but persistently, of someone else. Someone legendary for his media disdain, his need for privacy, his ability to vanish despite global fame.

Someone whose name Antonelli himself carried.

He leaned back, recalling the conversation with Toto Wolff months ago. Toto's description of Kimi Räikkönen – blunt, efficient, technically brilliant, fiercely protective of his family, building walls against the circus – resonated disturbingly with the fragments Antonelli had observed of Lira. He even remembered mentioning Lira's invisibility to Toto, a casual comment at the time. Had Toto, with his vast network and sharp mind, made a connection? A quiet, knowledgeable Finnish girl close to a Ferrari junior... It added another layer of unease.

Could Lira Virtanen actually be Lira Räikkönen? Hiding in plain sight?

The audacity seemed immense, yet the pieces fit with unnerving logic. Her comfort, her technical knowledge likely absorbed over a lifetime, the fierce privacy mirroring her father's, the Finnish connection, the deliberate alias. Even the fleeting sense of familiarity he sometimes felt around her – a subconscious echo?

If it were true… the implications were staggering. The media storm upon discovery would be immense, the pressure on Ollie and Lira unimaginable. Antonelli felt a complex mix – the intellectual satisfaction of potentially solving the puzzle, but also deep respect for Ollie's talent and hard work, and for the obvious lengths they went to protect Lira's identity. Betraying that confidence, even accidentally, felt wrong.

He wouldn't pry; it wasn't his place. Whatever Ollie and Lira were navigating, it was their path to walk. But the suspicion settled within him, changing his perspective. Lira wasn't just Ollie's quiet companion; she carried a hidden weight, a significant legacy. Recognizing the invisible burden Ollie carried alongside his own rookie pressures sparked a deeper appreciation for his friend's resilience. A strange, protective instinct flickered. He knew this paddock, how secrets unravelled. He found himself scanning differently now, noting not just Lira, but noticing who else might be noticing her. Had his own comment sparked Toto's curiosity?

He pushed the thoughts aside, forcing his attention back to the data. Speculating wouldn't find him time against George.

Later that afternoon, needing a break from the data and a change of scenery, Antonelli wandered out into the paddock, grabbing a bottle of water. He saw Lira sitting alone again at the same quiet coffee bar she'd visited before. Sketching intently, espresso beside her, lost in her world. On impulse, driven by a genuine curiosity that went beyond just solving the puzzle, Antonelli approached her table.

"Lira? Mind if I join you for a minute?" he asked, keeping his tone light and friendly.

Lira looked up, her initial surprise quickly masked by her usual polite reserve. She hesitated for a fraction of a second, perhaps assessing the risk, before nodding towards the empty chair. "Andrea. Please."

He sat down, careful not to crowd her space. "Just escaping the engineers for five minutes," he explained with a small smile. "Sometimes you need to clear your head." He glanced at her sketchbook. "That looks serious. Research?" He remembered Ollie mentioning she worked in research.

Lira closed the sketchbook smoothly, placing it beside her. "Something like that," she replied vaguely. "Just observations."

"You seem to observe quite a lot," Antonelli commented gently, trying to keep it conversational. "You pick up details others miss. Like the tyre comment in Monaco."

He saw a flicker of guardedness in her eyes, but her expression remained calm. "I listen," she said simply. "And I read. It's interesting to understand the 'why' behind what happens on track, not just the 'what'."

"Me too," Antonelli agreed readily. "The technical side is fascinating." He paused, then added, "It’s… a lot though, isn't it? This whole world. The pressure." It was a slight opening, testing if she'd engage on a more personal level.

Lira looked at him, her gaze steady, analytical, but perhaps holding a fraction less reserve than usual. "It demands focus," she conceded quietly. "On what you can control. Blocking out the noise." She took a small sip of her espresso. "How are you finding it? The pressure at Mercedes… it must be intense."

Antonelli was momentarily taken aback by the direct question, the shift towards him. "Intense, yes," he admitted honestly, appreciating the rare inquiry. "Expectations are high. Toto… he expects results, constant improvement. But it’s good. Pushes you."

Lira nodded slowly, her eyes holding his for a moment longer than usual, a flicker of something akin to empathy in their cool depths. "Focusing on the process, not just the outcome, helps," she offered softly, almost as if sharing a well-worn personal mantra. "One corner at a time."

The brief moment of shared vulnerability, her quiet acknowledgment of the pressure and the subtle advice felt significant. I. He shifted the topic back to safer ground. "Ollie mentioned you're interested in art history?"

A tiny spark of genuine interest lit her eyes, the brief personal connection seemingly closed off again. "Yes. It's my field."

"Anything specific?" Antonelli asked, genuinely curious now. "My mother loves the Italian Renaissance."

"A different period, mostly," Lira replied, still reserved but slightly more forthcoming. "Early 20th Century abstract expressionism, the pioneers. Kandinsky, Malevich. The theory behind breaking form."

"Ah, challenging," Antonelli nodded, impressed despite himself. "Requires a different way of seeing things, I imagine? Like finding the pattern in the chaos?" He drew an unconscious parallel to analysing complex race data.

Lira met his gaze, a flicker of understanding passing between them again. "Exactly," she said softly. "Finding the underlying structure beneath the surface noise."

That brief exchange, her quiet empathy and the shared understanding about finding structure in chaos, resonated with Antonelli. He'd glimpsed more of the thoughtful, intelligent person behind the walls, someone who understood pressure not just intellectually, but perhaps personally. She cared, in her own quiet, guarded way.

"Well," he said, finishing his water and standing up. "Back to the data mine for me. Nice chatting, Lira."

"You too, Andrea," she replied, offering a small, polite nod as she reopened her sketchbook, retreating back into her private world.

As Antonelli walked away, he felt the puzzle pieces shift slightly again. Complex, layered, intelligent, guarded, and surprisingly… perceptive about the human element amidst the technical chaos. The Räikkönen theory felt stronger, yet confirming it mattered less than respecting the privacy she so clearly valued, and the quiet strength she seemed to offer Ollie.

Later, heading back to the Mercedes motorhome, he saw Ollie finish a media scrum. Lira waited on the edge, obscured by a flight case. As the crowd thinned, she slipped out, falling into step beside Ollie. They walked away, heads close, talking quietly, Lira melting back into the background. Antonelli watched them go – the quiet girl, the hidden connection, the constant vigilance. He sighed softly. It was a complicated puzzle with high stakes. He decided definitively: Observation, yes. Interference, no. Whatever storm might be brewing around Ollie and Lira, he wouldn't be the one to unleash it.

A few weeks later, during a break between races, Antonelli texted Ollie: ‘You guys free later? Toto gave me the keys to something ridiculous. Need witnesses.’ Ollie replied almost instantly: ‘Intrigued. Where and when?’

Antonelli arranged to meet them at the discreet underground parking garage of the apartment building where Ollie and Lira were staying temporarily. He arrived first, parking the gleaming, brand-new Mercedes-AMG GT – a surprise 'performance incentive' gift from Toto Wolff – in an empty bay. He felt slightly self-conscious but undeniably thrilled.

Ollie and Lira emerged from the elevator a few minutes later, Lira carrying a bag of groceries. Ollie spotted the AMG immediately, his jaw dropping slightly. "Whoa! Kimi, what is that?" he exclaimed, walking straight towards it, Lira following with a curious smile.

"Present from the boss," Antonelli explained casually. "Toto said something about 'rewarding potential'... or maybe he just wanted me to stop borrowing George’s."

"He gave you this?" Ollie whistled, circling the car, running a hand over its sleek lines. "Mate, that's insane! Fair play!"

Lira peered inside, equally impressed. "It's beautiful, Andrea. Congratulations. Toto has good taste."

"Come on, check out the inside," Antonelli urged, unlocking the doors.

For the next ten minutes, they were just three young people excited about a fast car. Antonelli revved the engine, while Ollie fiddled with the infotainment system, trying to find a suitably ridiculous driving mode.

"Right, Kimi," Ollie grinned, tapping the screen, "found the 'Espresso Run' setting, but where's the 'Panic Overtake' button? And seriously, mate, no racing stripes? How are people supposed to know it's fast?"

Antonelli rolled his eyes. "It's an AMG, Ollie. It doesn't need stripes."

"Everything needs stripes!" Ollie declared dramatically. "Or maybe," he glanced sideways at Lira, who was tracing the stitching on the leather seat, "some subtle pinstriping? Like those fancy suits?"

Lira looked up, a genuine, unexpected laugh bubbling up – a clear, musical sound quite different from her usual quiet murmurs. "Don't encourage him, Andrea," she said, shaking her head, the smile reaching her eyes, crinkling the corners. She leaned comfortably against Ollie's side as he put an arm around her shoulder, pulling her slightly closer. Playfully nudging his hand away from the screen, she added, "Stop trying to break Andrea's new toy before he's even driven it properly. Besides," her voice dropped slightly, a mischievous glint in her eye directed only at Ollie, "stripes are overrated."

Ollie chuckled, tightening his arm around her. "Alright, alright, point taken. But you have to admit, a little flair wouldn't hurt." He dropped a quick kiss onto the top of her head, a casual gesture of affection that spoke volumes in the quiet garage.

For that moment, watching them banter, seeing Lira laugh openly and lean into Ollie without a trace of the hyper-vigilance or guardedness he usually sensed around her, Antonelli felt the carefully maintained walls dissolve completely. She looked relaxed, unguarded, simply enjoying the moment with Ollie and the ridiculousness of the car conversation. The easy intimacy, the shared joke, the comfortable physical closeness – it painted a picture far removed from the tense, watchful figure navigating the paddock shadows.

Antonelli found himself smiling along with them, enjoying the easy, genuine affection between the couple. They just seemed… right together. Normal, even, despite the extraordinary circumstances he suspected surrounded them. The contrast between Lira here, laughing and relaxed in Ollie's arms, and the Lira Virtanen he observed at the track, was stark.

Later, scrolling Instagram, he saw a slightly blurry fan photo: the three of them around the AMG in the garage. Caption:

‘Spotted! Kimi Antonelli showing off a new Merc gifted by Toto (?) to Ollie Bearman & his mystery GF Lira! Perks of being a Merc junior! 🔥 #F1 #Antonelli #Bearman #MercedesAMG #F1Gossip’.

Antonelli sighed.

Even private moments weren't truly private. But seeing the photo, seeing the three of them looking relaxed and happy, reinforced his decision. Whatever Lira’s real story was, whoever she truly was, they deserved this bubble of normalcy, this friendship.

He wouldn’t be the one to burst it.

He liked the post and kept scrolling.

Previous chapter | Next chapter

[vampyre-daisies]

Okay, I spent some time, here! *throws my special interest at you*

This is a lot but don't let it overwhelm you, classic who isn’t very continuity heavy, home video wasn’t really a thing for most of its run so no one was really expected to know much going in to any given serial. Pick whatever catches your eye and enjoy!

Also this ended up being EXTREMELY LONG so here's the short version, open the 'keep reading' at your own risk lmao (this show is my favourite thing ever and I tried very hard but it was simply impossible to shut up about it <3 ) No spoilers here obviously!

TL;DR Shortlist of My Favs & “The Essentials”

-1- The Dalek Invasion of Earth (S2) The Romans (S2) The Time Meddler (S2) The Tenth Planet (S4)

-2- The Power of the Daleks (S4) The Evil of the Daleks (S4) The Invasion (S6) The War Games (S6)

-3- Terror of the Autons (S8) The Three Doctors (S10) The Green Death (S10)

-4- Genesis of the Daleks (S12) The Seeds of Doom (S13) The Robots of Death (S14) City of Death (S17)

-5- The Five Doctors (Special) The Caves of Androzani (S21)

-6- Vengeance on Varos (S22) Revelation of the Daleks (S22)

-7- Remembrance of the Daleks (S25) The Curse of Fenric (S26) Survival (S26)

WAY more detail, episode numbers, and regen stories below. WARNING: LONG!

Okay if you’re looking for only a couple serials from each Doctor I’ll try to contain my innate desire to recommend like a million things lol

Firstly, Classic Who is a very different beast to NuWho, as others have said it’s slower and less full of energy. To set your expectations, I’d approach it like you’re watching theatre. The budget is low, there’s very little action other than some stage fighting, most of it is moved by dialogue. The sets (especially in the 60s) are mostly potted plants and painted backdrops, maybe a cool spaceship interior built of flimsy ply wall. The fact it’s so quaint is absolutely part of the charm!

First Doctor:

I’d recommended watching An Unearthly Child (the first episode of the first serial) The rest of the serial isn’t necessary and part one is very much self contained, but it’s THE beginning and it’s worth it to see!

The Daleks (first Dalek serial so worth a watch) Season 1, eps 5-11 starting with ‘The Dead Planet’

The Dalek Invasion of Earth (This is the essential, it’s the one most referenced to this day - bonus points for also being really good!) Season 2, eps 4-9 starting with ‘World’s End’

The Romans (an all time favourite, very fun - One at his most mischievous and Ian & Barbara at their most charming - highly recommend) Season 2, eps 12-15 starting with ‘The Slave Traders’

The Time Meddler (A huge step in the show’s history for reasons I won’t spoil) Season 2, eps 36-39 starting with ‘The Watcher’

The Tenth Planet (regen story + first cybermen story. partially lost but has been officially ANIMATED) Season 4, eps 5-8

(Also recommend The Aztecs, The Chase, and The War Machines - but here I am doing what I promised not to do and recommending a million things 😭 I just love 60s who so much)

Second Doctor:

Second Doctor is tricky because so much of his run was lost and now only exists in animations and telesnaps. I’ve avoided recommending missing serials so far because they can be quite tricky to get into but I will be recommending some animated episodes - the BBC has been slowly animating the missing serials using the original surviving audio tracks as a base)

The Power of the Daleks (Two’s first serial, also a masterpiece! ANIMATED) Season 4, immediately following from Tenth Planet

The Evil of the Daleks (Yet another personal favourite, serves as a season finale. ANIMATED) Season 4, eps 29-35

The Enemy of the World (beloved by fans, Troughton (Two’s actor) get’s to really have some fun here, also bonus none of it is lost media! You can see Two, Jamie and Victoria being a perfect tardis team for real!!!) Season 5, eps 17-22

The Invasion (maybe the most iconic Cyberman story in the show’s entire history) Season 6, eps 11-18

The War Games (regen serial, also HUGE for the show’s history for reasons I won’t spoil) Season 6, eps 35-45

(Also recommend The Macra Terror, The Web of Fear (UNIT’s first story))

Third Doctor:

The 70s, Colour!!! With Three comes a bigger focus on action, a consistent cast and setting as the Doctor spends several seasons at UNIT HQ with some iconic characters like The Brigadier, Jo Grant <3, Sgt Benton, and later Sarah Jane!

Spearhead from Space (first story, great insight into the tone of 3’s run) Season 7, eps 1-4

Terror of the Autons (A fan favourite and also the first appearance of a beloved character!!!!) Season 8, eps 1-4

The Daemons (Another fan favourite, the scientifically minded Third Doctor vs a mystical threat!) Season 8, eps 21-25

The Three Doctors (10th Anniversary Special, Multi-Doctor story as the title implies, a personal fav) Season 10, eps 1-4

The Green Death (The pinnacle of the era, political, dramatic, emotional, weird) Season 10, eps 21-26

Planet of the Spiders (regen story, this thing is wild! The most convoluted chase scene in the shows history with a plot about psychic otherworldly spiders! cw:ableism) Season 11, eps 21-26

(Also recommend, Inferno, The Sea Devils (fan fav, not mine), The Curse of Peladon, The Time Warrior (Sarah Jane’s first))

Fourth Doctor:

Okay… 4 is the longest running doctor by FAR, and he’s around during what is considered by many to be the classic run’s best era for scripts. When we think of Classic Who THIS is what we picture! Trying to keep this list brief is going to be HARD but I’ll try!

Robot (first story, very fun and full of iconic moments. Four comes out the gate strong!) Season 12, eps 1-4

Genesis of the Daleks (THE Classic serial, if you watch nothing else I recommend, watch this.) Season 12, eps 11-16

Pyramids of Mars (You’ve no doubt heard of this if you’ve kept up with Ncuti’s/15’s run, and yes, it is a banger) Season 13, eps 9-12

The Seeds of Doom (my favourite classic serial, every couple episodes the gear shifts, pacing is excellent and the Doctor is on peak form, monster is scary and fascinating) Season 13, eps 21-26

The Robots of Death (certified classic in the fan community, also has Leela in it and I love Leela) Season 14, eps 17-20

Horror of Fang Rock (Atmospheric horror with strong cast of characters, The Lighthouse with The Doctor) Season 15, eps 1-4

City of Death (one of Douglas Adam’s contributions to the show, a fan favourite, masterpiece) Season 17, eps 5-8

Logopolis (regen story, very dense hard sci-fi, honestly confused me on first watch, trust the process) Season 18, eps 25-28

Wheewww that was a LOT, I know, I tried 😓 The sheer lack of K-9 in that list hurts me but I had to TRY and keep this a short list of the BEST

(Also recommend, The Ark in Space, Terror of the Zygons, The Android Invasion, The Face of Evil, Image of the Fendahl, The Stones of Blood (part of a wider season-long arc but works on its own), State of Decay (VAMPIRESSSS))

Fifth Doctor:

Okay, this is where I admit the gap in my knowledge around 5, his era has simply been my blind spot since forever which is a crime I swear I will fix. But for now I’ll skip him and go on to the controversial Sixth Doctor. But here’s a couple:

The Five Doctors (20th Anniversary with you guessed it… four doctors! What you expected more? It’s a big fan service vehicle but it’s also just so much fun and I do recommend it once you’ve watched a fair amount of the classic series) It has no season as it is a Special on it’s own.

The Caves of Androzani (regen story, widely considered one of Five’s best and a classic who staple) Season 21, eps 17-20

Sixth Doctor:

Okay, Six is controversial. The writing at this time had declined, public opinion of the show was at a low point, then Six came out the gate with a bad attitude and an eye-straining rainbow coat and the show never recovered. This is the first big nail in classic who’s coffin that led to its cancellation (or “extended hiatus” as the BBC insisted). However, it really ain’t that bad so here’s a few highlights.

Note One: Season 23 is all one big story made up of smaller serials known as ‘The Trial of a Timelord’, the season is absent from this list because it is best watched as a whole and that’s a big commitment.

Note Two: Due to public opinion and backlash, the BBC’s heads souring on Who in general, and internal politics, Colin Baker never had a regeneration story. Seriously. They rudely and quietly replaced him and had McCoy, his successor, regenerate at the beginning of the next season by wearing a wig that vaguely resembled Baker’s hair, Baker was not present for his own regeneration. It’s messed up.

The Twin Dilemma (first story, not widely considered very good unfortunately) Season 21, eps 21-24

Vengeance on Varos (a darker story, regarded as Six’s best by many) Season 22, eps 3-4

Revelation of the Daleks (his sole Dalek story and it’s a good one!) Season 22, eps 12-13

(I will recommend here his outings on Big Finish, starting with The Marian Conspiracy, Big Finish carefully rehabilitated Six’s perception in the fanbase with a series of excellent audio adventures, he is now considered by many to be among the best incarnations thanks to his presence on audio)

Seventh Doctor:

Seven and Ace got me into classic who so I have a real soft spot for them, this is where the show was just beginning to find its feet again with some excellent stories and new take on The Doctor. There’s a grand sense of scale to this era which is impressive given the budget couldn’t have been much lower. Some of the best (and worst) of classic is in Seven’s run so here are the highlights:

Time and The Rani (first story, not good! But fun if you can deal with the fact it is b a d) Season 24, eps 1-4

Paradise Towers (a guilty pleasure of mine, fascism in a hotel with spooky grandmas and gangs of people named Bin-Liner and Fire-Escape, go in with low expectations i beg) Season 24, eps 5-8

Remembrance of the Daleks (The final Dalek story of classic, it’s ACE, a must watch) Season 25, eps 1-4

The Greatest Show in the Galaxy (circus story with an eerie atmosphere that really builds and also it’s quite silly) Season 25, eps 11-14

The Curse of Fenric (Showcasing the darker direction the show was heading if it wasn’t cancelled, this is a great script) Season 26, eps 8-11

Survival (the last serial in classic who, wild note to end on, but also poignant in its final moments) Season 26, eps 12-14

(Also recommend The Happiness Patrol (Thatcher satire with a giant candy man))

Other than the Eighth Doctor TV Movie (which is a blast) that’s it for classic. I hope this gives you a good pick and mix to grab from as you explore classic. I’ve probably put WAAAAYYYY too much here but there’s 26 seasons and so much to love so I’ve really tried to give you the condensed list.

If you ever want to just start watching in chronological. Season 1, Season 7, Season 11, and Season 12 are all great jumping on points!

Classic Who watchers!!! I call upon thee!

I have a request. Can you guys tell me what are the best arcs or episodes of each Doctor? I don't have enough time in my lifetime to watch the entirety of Classic Who, but I can manage that much.

I will also watch their regeneration episodes (the one they regenerate and the first one after) aside from arc episode reccomendations. Please let me know when each regeneration arcs begin!

Write down each episode's name, number and season number so it's easy for me to find.

Thanks! I look forward to knowing more about my blorbo The Doctor.

As a bonus, tell me which one is your fave!

[skitskatdacat63]

i know you are studying languages, how many do you speak/understand at like … i could get around here level fluency?

So, I've studied German, Russian, Latin and Japanese.

German is definitely my best, I started studying it probably about 8 years ago and have studied it for most of those years. I think it's just difficult to get fluent bcs it really depends on your teacher and environment. I think I could survive w it tho, I was pretty okay with it, and even improved, when I was in Austria and Germany. It's more of a confidence thing honestly. I think if I was there for more than a month, I'd definitely improve even more!

Russian is probably my second best, it's only been tho 2 years or so. I'm good at the basics, but I've not gotten any real world experience so :/ and my prof rn is so bad djkfkfl love her tho <3 I think I need to watch more Russian media like I do with German bcs that def helps. I think I'd be okay at getting around in a Russian speaking country, but mostly just basics.

I've forgotten most of my Japanese unfortunately ah :( but that was only like 2 years, and Latin is of course a dead language so there's not a lot of ways to apply it(but I'd like to get better with it)

[castielsprostate]

breaking the sign in two by how hard im tapping it

[asgardian--angels]

things I wish I could relive for the first time again:

that magical window where you finish a new piece of media, having watched/read it all by yourself with no fandom contact whatsoever, and you are just so happy about it, and full of interesting theories and takeaways, and just in love with it as a gorgeous piece of art.

because I swear to god as soon as you join the fandom for anything, you're bombarded with how you're supposed to view characters and their arcs, how you're supposed to morally and ethically judge the plot and the ways it apparently failed to present the right message, and if you don't you'll either be shunned for not sharing the popular headcanons or you'll be harassed for not criticizing the source material enough.

like how is it that the fans of a piece of media are also the ones being the most negative about it? If I like a show or a movie or a book, well, I liked it. That's kind of the point. I'm actually not here to tear it apart and talk about how it didn't live up to standards other people had! I enjoyed it for what it was, and forcing myself to find negative things to say about it doesn't actually bring me more enjoyment of it or reap any benefit to me. Fandom's a double-edged sword; you want to join a community to share your love for a piece of art, and the price you pay for a modicum of joy is a mountain of negativity. that's one main reason that I never engage with fandom until I'm completely done with a show, because if I was plugged into all of that commentary and discourse during the process, I'd be completely colored by how I'm expected to interpret everything this piece of art is presenting to me without being able to even form my own opinions.

[frobby]

i was thinking up an expanded chart for the manga gagverse and i was gonna exclude kyuushi (u know cuz of all the vampires running around shin yokohama) but then i remembered that kyuushi is actually the only manga here where iruma is canon it in

[dandeyrain]

i genuinely don't mean this in a like. condescending way. but reading people talk about how Confusing and Nonsensical and Overpacked boy and the heron is make me feel insane. every single plot point is clearly spelled out; frankly, one of my only critiques of the movie is that i wish they'd left some of it LESS clear. yes, the second half is rich in dreamlike fantasy, but the story never breaks its own rules, and before every major reveal in the fantasy world theres an extremely obvious explanation — almost too on the nose to even call it foreshadowing — from somebody. like i just don't understand how anybody finds it impossibly confusing and weird and bad to engage with

[fulminatethesun]

"Dont punish people for asking questions" "I am brainwashed!" "Nobody taught me-" at some point ignorance does become insulting I think

[inkolnito]

Paddock Confidential - Chapter 12: The Rookie Gauntlet

Pairing:

Oliver "Ollie" Bearman x Lira Räikkönen (Original Female Character )

Minor background pairings reflecting the real-life F1 grid (e.g., Charles Leclerc/Alexandra Saint Mleux)

Summary:

Rising F1 star Ollie Bearman navigates the intense pressure of his rookie season with Haas, juggling demanding team expectations and his close ties to Ferrari under the watchful eye of Fred Vasseur. His biggest challenge lies off-track: guarding his relationship with the enigmatic and fiercely private Lira, whose surprising motorsport knowledge and aversion to the spotlight hint at a complex past connected to one of the sport's icons. As Ollie fights for his future, their secret world threatens to unravel amidst paddock gossip, rivalries, and the ever-present Drive to Survive cameras. When exposure becomes inevitable, they must confront the consequences and find a way to navigate the relentless glare of the F1 world together.

Warnings and Notes:

Warnings: Depictions of anxiety, stress related to high-pressure environments (F1), mentions of past trauma (related to privacy/media intrusion), media scrutiny/harassment, potential minor F1-typical language.

Notes:

This is a work of fiction using real people (F1 drivers, personnel) as characters; their portrayals, actions, and relationships are fictionalized for the story.

I tried to follow IRL timeline in the previous chapters but the timeline will be diverted from now on

The harsh, sun-baked expanse of the Bahrain International Circuit felt a universe away from the hushed reverence of the Ferrari garage or the functional bustle of the Haas factory. F1 was stripped bare here, less glamour, more grind, as pre-season testing unfolded. The air hummed not with race-day crowds, but with the relentless thrum of engines logging lap after crucial lap, the squeal of prototype tyres being pushed to their limits, and the clipped, technical jargon of engineers dissecting terabytes of data.

For Ollie Bearman, this was the true start line. Jeddah had been a surreal, high-stakes cameo; this was the beginning of his F1 career proper, the start of the long, arduous climb.

The Haas VF-25, unveiled weeks earlier with modest fanfare, felt distinctly different beneath him compared to the scarlet SF-24 he’d briefly piloted. Where the Ferrari had felt like a precision instrument, instantly responsive, almost telepathically connected to his inputs (even if terrifyingly fast), the Haas felt… blunter. More physical. It required more wrestling, more anticipation, its limits less clearly defined, its feedback loop less refined. It wasn't a bad car, per se – early testing suggested it was a solid midfield contender, a step forward for the American team – but it lacked the ultimate aerodynamic sophistication and sheer grunt of the front-runners. Every tenth of a second would have to be fought for, extracted through sheer effort and intelligent driving rather than inherent car superiority. It was a sobering, grounding reality check after the heady heights of his Ferrari debut.

With relentless focus, Ollie threw himself into the three days of testing. Lap after lap, stint after stint, he worked through the team’s run plan: aero correlation checks, setup experiments, tyre degradation analysis, long runs simulating race pace. His rapport with Mark, his race engineer, grew as their communication became smoother, more intuitive with each session. Absorbing feedback and providing his own detailed analysis of the car’s behaviour, Ollie tried to learn its quirks, its strengths, its weaknesses, as quickly as possible. The pressure felt different here – less the blinding spotlight of a race weekend, more the intense internal pressure to learn, adapt, and prove to his new team that their faith (and Ferrari’s investment) was justified.

Present for the final day of testing, having flown in separately and discreetly, was Lira. Her presence wasn't trackside in team kit; that was strictly forbidden under their newly established, rigorously defined rules. Instead, using the carefully chosen alias "L. Virtanen" – her mother Minttu’s maiden name, common enough in Finland not to immediately raise eyebrows, yet a subtle, private link to her heritage – she obtained a guest pass through a neutral third-party contact of Julian’s. This granted her access to the general paddock areas and the less scrutinised upper levels of the Paddock Club, far from the team hospitality units and garage hotspots.

Her routine quickly established itself.

Arriving later than the team, she avoided the main paddock thoroughfares during peak times and never lingered near the Haas garage entrance. Sometimes, she’d find a quiet table in a less-frequented corner of the Paddock Club, nursing a coffee, tablet open, appearing engrossed in work. Other times, watching the track feed took place in the small, private room allocated to Ollie’s performance coach, Eoin, away from the main engineering hubbub.

From the gantry during a lull, Ollie watched her, a pang hitting him as he saw her deliberately angle herself away from a passing camera crew, fading into the background with an ease that spoke of long, painful practice.

She made invisibility an art form, and he hated that she had to.

Just then, she glanced up, catching his eye across the distance. A tiny, almost imperceptible smile touched her lips before she looked away, a fleeting acknowledgment that sent a surge of warmth through him, a silent reminder of their shared secret world amidst the noise.

Fleeting glimpses were all Ollie caught of her occasionally – a figure disappearing around a corner, a familiar silhouette briefly visible across the crowded paddock. Each glimpse was a paradox: a jolt of anxiety about the risk, immediately tempered by the grounding reassurance of her presence. Even hidden, her being there shifted the weight of the pressure, making it feel somehow more manageable.

Despite her low profile, Lira’s analytical mind was constantly working. During debriefs back at the hotel in the evenings, away from prying ears, her insights were often startlingly sharp. Sprawled exhaustedly on the hotel bed while she sat cross-legged beside him, tablet balanced on her knees, Ollie would relay his feedback to the team, then later discuss it with Lira.

"The rear felt unstable under braking into Turn 10 all day," he complain, scrolling through data on his laptop. "We tried adjusting the brake balance, stiffening the rear suspension, but nothing really settled it."

Peering over his shoulder, her dark hair brushing his arm, Lira point to a specific telemetry trace. "Look at the downforce variation here as you come off the throttle and start braking," she’d murmur, her voice low, intimate in the quiet room. "The aero platform shift seems quite aggressive. Maybe the instability isn't mechanical, maybe it's aero stalling slightly as the ride height changes under deceleration? Perhaps a small adjustment to the rear wing angle or the floor edge setup could stabilise the airflow transition?"

It wasn't the kind of feedback Ollie would directly relay as hers, but it often gave him a new perspective, a different avenue to explore with Mark and the engineers the next day. He loved these moments, the quiet collaboration, the way her sharp mind complemented his driver's intuition. It felt like their own secret language, woven between the lines of data. Her ability to cut through the noise and see potential root causes, unburdened by team politics or pre-conceived notions, was uncanny, and frankly, incredibly attractive.

Ayao Komatsu, the pragmatic and observant Haas Team Principal, made a point of observing his new rookie driver closely during testing, not just on track, but off it. He noticed the quiet young woman, introduced simply as "Lira, a friend visiting," who seemed to appear towards the end of the test. Komatsu, a man focused entirely on performance and efficiency, had seen his fair share of driver entourages over the years. He initially regarded Lira with a neutral, watchful eye. But Lira Virtanen, as her pass read, was different. Demanding nothing, seeking no attention, engaging in no obvious paddock gossip, she never attempted to insert herself into technical debriefs or hover possessively around Ollie. She simply was, a quiet presence in the background. Komatsu noted her unobtrusiveness, the way she seemed to instinctively understand the boundaries, and saw Ollie visibly relax slightly when she was nearby, a subtle easing of the tension the rookie inevitably carried.

One late afternoon during testing, Komatsu was walking through the back of the paddock towards the Haas motorhome when he passed the small office used by Eoin, Ollie's performance coach. The door was slightly ajar. Inside, Ollie's voice discussed tyre degradation with Eoin, followed by a quieter, female voice – Lira's – making a concise, technical observation.

"...but the surface temperature variance between the C3 and C4 compound seems larger than the model predicted, especially on the rear left after eight laps," Lira's voice stated. "It suggests the thermal degradation curve might be steeper than anticipated, particularly if track temp drops significantly during a race simulation. Might need to adjust the target lap times for the second stint accordingly, or risk hitting the cliff earlier than planned."

Komatsu paused instinctively just out of sight, his brow furrowing slightly. It wasn't just a casual observation; it was specific, data-driven analysis referencing tyre compounds, degradation curves, and potential strategic implications, delivered with the quiet confidence of someone familiar with such metrics. Unusual vocabulary for a 'friend visiting'. He heard Eoin murmur something in agreement, followed by Ollie saying, "Yeah, good point, Li, we should flag that for the strategy meeting."

Continuing on his way, Komatsu's expression was thoughtful. Having never seen Lira engage directly in technical discussions before, he'd assumed her presence was purely personal support. But that comment hinted at a deeper understanding. Who was Lira Virtanen, really? Puzzles unrelated to car performance weren't his priority, but the quiet woman's unexpected insight lodged itself in the back of his mind. Low maintenance, zero drama, he noted, but surprisingly – perhaps suspiciously – knowledgeable.

An anomaly.

The following morning, grabbing a quick espresso near the media centre between sessions, Komatsu found himself standing beside Fred Vasseur, the Ferrari Team Principal. After exchanging brief pleasantries about the testing conditions, Komatsu, still mulling over the previous evening's observation, decided to probe subtly.

"Your boy Bearman seems to be settling in well over here," Komatsu remarked casually, stirring his coffee. "Hard worker. Though his guest... the Finnish girl, Lira, seems quite involved."

Vasseur, ever direct, raised an eyebrow slightly, his gaze sharp. "Lira Virtanen? Involved? How so? Ollie mentioned she might visit, keeps a low profile. Causing any issues, Ayao?" The question held a hint of protective concern.

"No, no issues at all," Komatsu replied quickly, keeping his tone light. "Quite the opposite. Very discreet. Just an observation... she seems unexpectedly sharp. Almost like she's spent time around engineers. Overheard her making a rather astute comment about tyre thermal degradation curves yesterday. Not the usual paddock small talk."

Vasseur paused, considering this, his expression becoming more focused.

"Sharp? Bien sûr. Ollie does talk a lot, likes to understand everything. Perhaps he shares too much." He took a sip of his espresso, his gaze thoughtful.

"As long as she doesn't become a distraction... He needs full focus this year. We still have an interest in his development, naturally." The underlying message was clear:

Keep external influences, however knowledgeable, at arm's length.

"Agreed," Komatsu nodded. "No distraction evident. Just... an unexpected variable." He let the comment hang, leaving Vasseur to ponder.

The relative calm of testing evaporated as the season kicked off under the bright lights of Melbourne, then heading to the unique challenges of Shanghai and Suzuka. The 2025 season plunged Ollie into a baptism by fire. Racing in the congested midfield pack was a different beast entirely from his relatively clean run in the Ferrari at Jeddah. It was elbows-out, relentless battling from lights to flag. Qualifying was crucial, as track position was everything, but the Haas often lacked the ultimate one-lap pace to break into the top ten consistently.

Learning race craft in the thick of it meant managing tyres while defending aggressively, timing overtakes perfectly on cars with similar pace, and dealing with the frustration of being stuck in DRS trains. Rookie mistakes were inevitable – a slightly clumsy lock-up under pressure in China that flat-spotted his tyres, getting caught out by tyre degradation in the heat. But flashes of the talent that had earned him the seat also shone through: intelligent race management, clean wheel-to-wheel combat, and a knack for extracting the maximum from the car, often outperforming expectations and finishing tantalizingly close to the points in those opening rounds. He learned quickly, listened intently to his engineers, and earned the respect of the Haas crew with his work ethic and lack of prima donna attitude.

Lira attended the season opener in Australia and then the Japanese Grand Prix, again under the Virtanen alias, sticking rigidly to their agreed rules. From the Paddock Club, her expression unreadable behind sunglasses during qualifying, or from Eoin’s small office during the races, she analysed timing screens and strategy options with quiet intensity. Ollie found her presence, even at a distance, immensely comforting – a silent reminder of the world outside the F1 pressure cooker, a link to the person who knew him best.

While Lira navigated the complexities of paddock society from the shadows, Ollie found a growing sense of camaraderie with his fellow rookie, Andrea Kimi Antonelli. Their paths had run parallel for years through the junior formulae, often as teammates, fostering a deep-seated respect. Now, both thrust into the F1 deep end – Ollie at Haas, Antonelli carrying the immense weight of expectation at Mercedes – they shared a unique bond.

During the Australian Grand Prix weekend in Melbourne, comparing notes became common. It wasn't just about track conditions or car behaviour, but the sheer intensity of F1 life – the relentless travel, the demanding media schedule, the pressure from teams and sponsors, the challenge of adapting to the faster, more complex cars. Quick chats during track walks analysed braking points or kerb usage, while late-night video calls dissected simulator sessions, sharing frustrations and small triumphs.

"Man, the tyre deg on that long run was brutal," Ollie might say after a tough practice session, collapsing onto a bench in the cool-down area.

Antonelli, wiping sweat from his brow nearby, would nod grimly. "Tell me about it. The Merc feels okay over one lap, but keeping the rears alive for more than fifteen laps… difficile." He switched effortlessly between Italian and English. "Your Haas looked pretty stable through Sector 2 though? Better traction than us out of Turn 7?"

"Yeah, traction is okay, but we're losing too much time in the high-speed stuff," Ollie countered. "Struggling to keep the front end loaded through Turn 11."

This shared experience, the common struggle against the limits of physics and machinery, forged their friendship deeper than mere nationality or past association. They were competitors, yes, driving for rival teams, but they were also fellow travellers on the same daunting rookie journey.

Antonelli, however, never brought up Lira directly. Ollie sensed the lingering curiosity in his friend's eyes sometimes, a thoughtful look when Lira's name was briefly mentioned in passing, but Antonelli seemed to respect Ollie’s deliberate vagueness, never pushing or prying directly. Instead, his curiosity manifested in softer, more subtle ways. During a shared simulator session analysis via video call late one night after Melbourne, after dissecting endless data traces, Antonelli leaned back, rubbing his eyes.

"So," he began casually, changing the subject, "your friend Lira, she travels quite a lot with you now? Must be good support. Is she enjoying seeing all these different tracks?" It was a gentle probe, framed as polite interest, testing the waters.

Ollie felt the familiar internal clench but kept his voice even. "Yeah, when her own work allows. She finds it… interesting. Different from her usual research." He offered no further details, keeping it vague as rehearsed.

Antonelli nodded slowly, accepting the deflection without comment, but Ollie saw the brief, thoughtful flicker in his eyes again. He knew Antonelli wasn't letting it go entirely.

The Australian Grand Prix weekend also provided the first near-miss regarding Lira's identity. Ollie had driven a strong race, bringing the Haas home in P12 after a long, tyre-management-heavy battle in the midfield. While doing his post-race media duties near the paddock entrance, Lando Norris, McLaren driver and fellow Brit, came over to chat, commiserating about a difficult race for both of them.

Lira stood a few feet away, waiting patiently for Ollie, trying to remain inconspicuous near a stack of transport cases. As Ollie and Lando discussed a particular on-track incident, Ollie turned briefly towards Lira, catching her eye, a silent question about when they could leave.

Seeing his impatience, Lira murmured a quiet phrase to him under her breath, just loud enough for him to hear over the paddock hubbub: "Maltti, kulta. Melkein valmis."

It was Finnish. Brief, mundane, instinctive.

Lando, standing beside Ollie, overheard the phrase. His head tilted slightly, his playful expression flickering with genuine curiosity. Known for his own close friendship with Finnish driver Valtteri Bottas and his general awareness of the paddock’s multilingual nature, Lando recognised the language instantly. Glancing over at Lira, he took in her dark hair, her quiet intensity, her non-team attire, his eyes lingering for just a second longer than necessary. Instead of turning back immediately, Lando offered Lira a friendly, slightly cheeky grin.

"Practicing your Finnish for Bottas, Ollie?" Lando quipped, his tone light, before turning his attention more directly to Lira. "Or maybe you've got your own Finnish connection?" He winked playfully. "Don't hear much Suomi in the paddock these days, besides Valtteri complaining about his sauna."

Lira felt a jolt of adrenaline, colder this time than the panic from the flashbulb. Lando’s probing was disguised as banter, but the direct question, the specific mention of the language, felt pointed. Forcing a polite, neutral smile, she replied smoothly, her voice calm despite the sudden tightness in her chest. "Just picking up a few phrases. It's a beautiful language."

"It is," Lando agreed easily, still observing her, his head tilted slightly as if trying to place her. "You visiting from Finland then? Or just a fan of the language... and maybe certain Finnish world champions?" The last part was added with another playful grin, but his eyes remained watchful, testing her reaction.

Ollie tensed beside Lando, ready to intervene, but Lira held her ground. "Just a fan of languages," she reiterated calmly, meeting Lando's curious gaze without flinching, though inside, her mind raced. He knows. Or suspects. "And Ollie's ready to go, I think." With a small, polite nod, she effectively ended the conversation.

Lando chuckled, seemingly accepting the deflection, but a thoughtful frown briefly creased his forehead before his usual grin returned. "Alright, alright, message received. Catch you later, Ollie. Nice meeting you..." He paused deliberately, inviting her name.

"Lira," she supplied quietly.

"Lira," Lando repeated, giving her one last curious, almost speculative, look before turning back to Ollie with a final comment about the race and heading off towards the McLaren hospitality.

Ollie let out a slow breath as Lando walked away. Reaching out instinctively as they turned to leave, his fingers brushed hers. He wanted to pull her closer, shield her completely, but settled for the fleeting contact, a silent promise in the brief touch. "That was close," he muttered under his breath, his eyes searching hers for reassurance.

"Too close," Lira agreed quietly, the forced calm receding, leaving behind a familiar unease. Lando might seem easily distracted, but he was sharp. He'd clocked the language, clocked her, and the deflection hadn't entirely landed. It was another reminder: a dropped word, a familiar language overheard by the wrong person with the right connections – that’s all it could take. Back in their hotel room later, the tension from the encounter lingered. Ollie found Lira sketching furiously, her charcoal strokes sharp, almost aggressive. He sat beside her quietly, not speaking, just resting his hand lightly on her back until he felt the rigid line of her shoulders soften slightly. She didn't look up, but leaned into his touch almost imperceptibly.

Back in the McLaren hospitality area later that evening, Lando flopped down onto a sofa next to Oscar Piastri, who was scrolling through data on a tablet.

"Oi, Oscar," Lando began, grabbing a bottle of water. "You see Bearman's girlfriend today? Lira?"

Oscar glanced up, his expression neutral. "The one waiting by the media pen? Yeah, saw her briefly. Why?"

"Weird one," Lando mused, taking a long drink. "Overheard her talking to Ollie. In Finnish."

Oscar raised an eyebrow slightly. "Finnish? Like Bottas?"

"Exactly," Lando confirmed. "So I asked her, you know, jokingly, if she was Finnish or just a fan of Kimi or something." He grinned. "And she totally clammed up. Got all polite and evasive, 'Oh, just a fan of languages'. Definitely hiding something. Proper deflection." Just then, Kimi Antonelli walked past, heading towards the exit with his trainer. Lando spotted him. "Oi, Kimi!" he called out.

Antonelli paused, turning towards them with a questioning look.

"You were Ollie's teammate last year, right?" Lando asked, leaning forward slightly. "Did you ever see this Lira girl around much? His girlfriend?"

Antonelli nodded slowly, his expression cautious. "Yeah, we were teammates. Lira... she was around sometimes. Very quiet, kept to herself mostly. Ollie's always been pretty private about his personal life, focused on the driving."

"Did she seem Finnish to you?" Lando pressed.

Antonelli frowned slightly, thinking back. "Honestly? Didn't speak to her much. She wasn't really involved with the team stuff. Why?"

"Just wondering," Lando said, sharing a look with Oscar. "She spoke Finnish to Ollie today, but then got weird when I asked if she was Finnish or knew Kimi R. Like, really weird."

Antonelli's expression remained neutral, but perhaps a flicker of understanding, or maybe recognition of Ollie's known tendency for privacy, crossed his eyes. "Maybe she just doesn't like personal questions," Antonelli suggested evenly. "Ollie's protective of his space. Always has been." He gave a slight shrug. "Anyway, got to go. See you guys tomorrow." He continued on his way, leaving Lando and Oscar looking at each other.

"See?" Lando said to Oscar. "Even his old teammate knows Ollie keeps things locked down. But still... Finnish? And gets weird about Kimi? It's definitely something."

"Maybe she just didn't want to chat," Oscar repeated, though perhaps with slightly less conviction this time.

"Nah, it was more than that," Lando insisted. "She looked properly spooked for a second. Like I'd hit a nerve. And she's got that pass that says 'Virtanen'. Finnish name, speaks Finnish, gets cagey when you mention Finland... It's definitely weird, right?" He paused, thinking. "And Ollie was hovering like a protective mother hen. Shut me down quick."

Oscar considered it for a moment longer. "It's unusual, maybe. But does it matter? She keeps to herself, doesn't seem to be causing trouble."

"Trouble? No," Lando conceded. "But it's interesting. There's definitely something there they're hiding. Wonder what her story is?" He shrugged, his curiosity piqued but not obsessive. "Anyway, just thought it was odd. Pass the biscuits."

The conversation shifted back to tyre degradation and setup changes, but the question mark over Lira Virtanen lingered in the back of Lando's mind, another small piece of paddock intrigue, now subtly reinforced by Antonelli's slightly more informed, yet still guarded, perspective.

Torrential rain marked Friday practice at Suzuka. The treacherous, high-speed circuit became a glistening ribbon of uncertainty, visibility reduced to mere meters in the spray kicked up by the cars. Ollie wrestled the Haas around, aquaplaning threatening on every straight, the legendary Esses demanding absolute precision and bravery.

Later, during a debrief in Eoin’s cramped office overlooking the soggy paddock, Ollie discussed the difficulty of finding grip, particularly through the fast Turn 2, the first part of the Esses, while Eoin compared his feedback to historical wet weather data.

Lira, quietly reviewing onboard footage on a spare laptop in the corner, made an offhand comment, almost thinking aloud. "The drainage channel on the inside kerb at Turn 2 always holds water longer here," she murmured, her eyes still fixed on the screen showing Ollie’s onboard view navigating the treacherous corner. "I remember from a test day years ago at Fiorano – similar drainage design – how it caught people out. The grip disappears completely if you touch that kerb even slightly in these conditions." She then added a specific detail about how the water flowed across the track further down towards Turn 3.

Ollie froze mid-sentence. Fiorano? Test day? Years ago? Ferrari’s legendary private test track. Access was incredibly restricted. How would 'Lira Virtanen,' his private researcher friend, know intimate details about Fiorano’s drainage from a test day years ago?

Eoin, making notes, paused, his pen hovering. He looked up, his expression shifting from concentration to distinct surprise. "Fiorano, you say? That's... a specific comparison. I wouldn't have thought the drainage characteristics would be that similar, given the different topography. You remember that from a test day?" The question wasn't accusatory, but held a clear note of professional curiosity.

Panic flared in Ollie’s chest. He saw Lira realise her slip instantly. Her eyes widened almost imperceptibly for a fraction of a second before her expression smoothed back into careful neutrality.

"Oh, no, not personally," she backtracked quickly, forcing a light, dismissive laugh that sounded only slightly strained to Ollie’s hyper-attuned ears. "Goodness, no. I just meant I read about it somewhere. An old technical article, I think? Comparing track drainage systems. It just… popped into my head seeing Ollie struggle with the same spot on the onboard. Probably completely irrelevant." Turning her attention immediately back to her laptop, she effectively shut down the topic, her body language signalling a return to her role as passive observer.

Eoin hesitated for a second, his gaze lingering on Lira for a moment longer, perhaps registering the slight strain in her denial, before looking back at his notes. "Huh. Right. Interesting comparison anyway," he mumbled, returning to his analysis of Ollie’s sector times. The moment passed, but left a faint question mark hanging in the air.

Ollie couldn't shake the unease. It was a tiny slip, easily dismissed on the surface, but it felt like a near miss, a glimpse of the hidden depths beneath Lira's carefully constructed facade. Fiorano. The name itself was a connection, a clue, lying dormant. Catching Lira’s eye across the small room, they shared a brief look – a silent acknowledgment of the mistake, the risk, the constant vigilance required. Later, back in the quiet anonymity of their hotel room, the unspoken tension lingered.

"Hey," Ollie murmured, finding Lira staring out at the rain-streaked window. He came up behind her, wrapping his arms around her waist, resting his chin on her shoulder. "Don't worry about the Fiorano thing. Eoin's forgotten it already."

Lira leaned back against him slightly, the subtle pressure a comfort. "It was careless," she whispered, her voice tight.

"No," Ollie said firmly, tightening his hold, wanting to absorb her anxiety. "It was brilliant. Just... be careful, Li. For us."

She nodded silently against his chest.

As the season moved into the North American leg, the simmering rivalry between Ollie and Liam Lawson continued. Lawson, now driving for Red Bull, remained an aggressive competitor, and their midfield battles were often fraught with tension. The Canadian Grand Prix weekend at the Circuit Gilles Villeneuve proved particularly heated, both on and off the track.

In the closing laps, Ollie and Lawson found themselves locked in a frantic scrap for P10. Defending robustly on slightly older tyres, Ollie positioned his Haas perfectly lap after lap to close the door on Lawson’s charging RB. Into the final chicane, the infamous 'Wall of Champions,' Lawson launched a desperate lunge down the inside. Ollie held his line, refusing to yield. A slight, jarring bang echoed as their wheels touched, sending vibrations through Ollie’s cockpit. Both cars momentarily squirmed, inches from the concrete wall, but both drivers held on, gathering it up. Ollie managed to maintain the position, crossing the line just ahead to claim the final point.

The adrenaline was still pumping as Ollie climbed out of the car in parc fermé. Lawson pulled up alongside, climbing out slowly, his expression thunderous. Before heading to the media pen or the garage debrief, Ollie needed to find Lira. He spotted her near the edge of the parc fermé area, trying to blend in near a barrier, tablet clutched tightly. He strode over, ignoring the marshals trying to guide him towards the weighing scales.

"Can you believe that idiot?" Ollie hissed, his voice tight with residual adrenaline and anger, pulling her slightly aside, needing to vent before facing the cameras. "He just threw it up the inside! Miles back! Nearly took us both out! What was he thinking?"

Lira looked up at him, her grey eyes calm but assessing, taking in his flushed face, the lingering tension in his shoulders. She didn't offer platitudes. "You held the line," she stated simply, her voice low and steady amidst the surrounding noise. "He took the risk. You got the point."

Her calm pragmatism cut through his anger slightly. "Yeah, but still..." he muttered, running a hand through his sweaty hair. "He's going to be unbearable in the media pen."

"Let him," Lira said quietly, placing a cool hand briefly on his arm, a grounding touch. "You drove smart. Defended well. Focus on that. Don't get drawn in." She gave his arm a slight squeeze. "Go weigh in. Breathe."

He nodded, taking a deep breath, her steadiness anchoring him. "Okay. Right." He gave her hand a quick squeeze back, a silent thank you, before turning towards the waiting FIA officials and the inevitable confrontation with Lawson in front of the cameras.

Lawson stalked over towards Ollie as the cameras swarmed.

"What the hell was that, Bearman?" Lawson snapped, his voice tight with anger, ignoring the surrounding media. "You just turned in on me! Nearly put us both in the wall!"

Ollie, managed to keep his cool, though his own frustration simmered. "I held my line, Liam! You lunged from miles back. There was never enough room there."

"Bullshit! You saw me coming, you just chopped across!"

"It's the final chicane, final lap! What did you expect me to do, wave you through?" Ollie shot back, keeping his voice level despite the provocation. Engineers and team personnel quickly stepped between them, murmuring calming words, aware of the watching media capturing the confrontation. The moment passed, but the tension lingered, broadcast live around the world, fueling the narrative of their intense rivalry. Later, reviewing the incident, the stewards deemed it a racing incident, but the on-track clash and off-track confrontation only added fuel to the fire between the two fiercely competitive drivers.

While Ollie dealt with the post-race media obligations and the debrief surrounding the Lawson incident, Lira sought refuge from the paddock buzz. The unique island setting of the Canadian GP offered slightly different pockets of anonymity than the sprawling European circuits. She found a relatively quiet corner in a coffee bar overlooking the rowing basin, away from the main hospitality areas. Nursing an espresso and trying to focus on some historical track data on her tablet – a habit she couldn't break, even when trying to remain inconspicuous – she was surprised when Alexandra Saint Mleux, Charles Leclerc’s girlfriend, approached her table hesitantly.

"Excuse me," Alexandra began, her voice soft, slightly accented, "Lira, isn't it? Ollie Bearman's friend?"

Lira looked up, instinctively guarding her expression. "Yes," she confirmed simply, offering a polite but reserved nod. "Alexandra, right?"

"Yes," Alexandra smiled, a genuine warmth in her eyes. "Do you mind if I join you for a moment? It's… surprisingly hard to find a quiet spot away from everything."

Lira hesitated for only a fraction of a second. Her instinct was to maintain distance, avoid connections. But there was something open, almost vulnerable, in Alexandra’s demeanour. And perhaps, a small part of Lira acknowledged, a shared understanding. She gestured to the empty chair opposite her. "Please."

Alexandra sat down with a grateful sigh, placing her own coffee cup on the small table. "Thank you. Sometimes the noise… it gets a bit much, doesn't it?" She glanced around the bustling coffee bar, then back at Lira. "You handle it very well. Staying so… private."

Lira offered a non-committal shrug. "I prefer it that way."

"I understand," Alexandra said sincerely. "It's not easy. Charles is used to it, born into it almost, in Monaco. But for me…" She trailed off, stirring her coffee absently. "The cameras, the people wanting photos, the comments online… it can be overwhelming. You seem to navigate it so calmly, almost invisibly."

It was the closest anyone had come to acknowledging Lira’s deliberate strategy. Lira chose her words carefully. "Everyone finds their own way to cope, I suppose. Staying out of the spotlight works best for me."

They sat in a comfortable silence for a moment. Alexandra then asked a question about the race.

"I watch the timing screens," Alexandra admitted, a slight frown creasing her brow, "and sometimes Charles will do a really fast lap, then the next one is half a second slower, even though he looks like he's pushing just as hard. I don't really understand why."

Lira, perhaps letting her guard down slightly in the quiet corner, seeing genuine curiosity rather than probing intent, began to explain the concept of tyre degradation and thermal management in simple, accessible terms. "It's mostly about keeping the tyres in the right temperature window," Lira explained quietly, gesturing with her hands as if tracing a graph on the table between them. "Think of it like Goldilocks – not too hot, not too cold."

Alexandra leaned forward slightly, intrigued. "Okay..."

"The tyres generate heat through friction and flexing as the car moves," Lira continued, her voice low and even, falling naturally into an explanatory mode. "But if they get too hot, the rubber compound starts to degrade much faster, it almost melts slightly at a microscopic level, and it loses grip. You see the drivers complaining about 'overheating' – that's what they mean. But if the tyres are too cold, the rubber is too hard, and they don't generate enough friction, so there's no grip either. Finding that perfect operating window is key."

"So, the fast lap makes them too hot?" Alexandra clarified.

"Exactly," Lira confirmed with a small nod. "Pushing hard, sliding the car even a little, generates a lot of heat very quickly. So, after a really fast lap, especially on the softer tyre compounds, the driver might deliberately drive the next lap slightly less aggressively – maybe brake a fraction earlier, be smoother on the throttle – not to rest, but specifically to cool the tyres down, bring them back into that optimal window before pushing hard again for another fast lap. It's called tyre management." She paused, then added, "Especially the rear tyres, they tend to overheat more easily because they handle all the power delivery and traction demands out of the corners. Managing the rear temperature is often critical for race pace over a long stint."

Alexandra listened intently, her eyes wide. "Wow. Okay, that makes so much more sense than just thinking they got tired or made a mistake. It's like they're constantly juggling temperature."

"Constantly," Lira affirmed. "Every corner, every lap. It's a huge part of the strategy and the driver's skill."

Just as Lira finished her sentence, Charles Leclerc himself appeared, weaving through the tables towards them, a warm smile on his face for Alexandra. "Ah, chérie, there you are. Ready for the briefing?" He stopped beside their table, his eyes flickering politely towards Lira, having caught the tail end of her explanation about rear tyre temperatures. "Lira, hello again."

"Charles," Lira acknowledged with a brief, polite nod, instinctively pulling back slightly, her analytical expression replaced by careful neutrality as she mentally chastised herself for getting drawn into the technical explanation.

Alexandra smiled up at Charles. "Lira was just explaining tyre temperatures to me! Why your lap times go up and down. It's quite complicated, but she made it sound so clear!"

Charles looked at Lira again, his friendly expression tinged with genuine surprise and a spark of intrigue. He hadn't just heard a vague comment; he'd heard a concise, accurate, and well-articulated explanation of thermal tyre management, including specific nuances about rear tyre behaviour, delivered with casual confidence.

"Ah, explaining the black magic of Pirelli?" he chuckled lightly, but his eyes remained on Lira, observant, assessing. "You have a very good grasp of it. Impressive. Better than many people in the paddock, I think." He tilted his head slightly, his curiosity piqued. "You follow the technical side very closely?"

Lira felt a flush creep up her neck but kept her voice even, forcing a polite, deflective smile.

"I find it interesting," she replied simply, deliberately keeping her answer brief and general. "You learn things listening to the commentary, reading the articles online." She deliberately downplayed her knowledge, attributing it to publicly available information, hoping to shut down the line of inquiry. She stood up smoothly, gathering her tablet. "Well, I should let you get to your briefing. Excuse me."

She turned and walked away, melting into the background bustle with practiced ease, leaving Charles looking thoughtfully after her for a fraction of a second before turning his full attention back to Alexandra.

It wasn't a major slip, but overhearing her articulate a core technical concept with such clarity, even simplified, was different from just sensing her intensity. Charles wouldn't easily forget the quiet 'friend' who could casually explain tyre degradation better than many pundits. Another small piece added to the puzzle, another reason for potential future curiosity, filed away in the sharp mind of the Ferrari driver.

Lira, meanwhile, felt the familiar adrenaline prickle as she walked away. Another interaction navigated, another potential pitfall avoided. But Charles Leclerc was sharp, perceptive. His seemingly innocent question felt pointed. She couldn't afford even the smallest slip around him or anyone connected to Ferrari's inner circle. The brief moment of connection with Alexandra was appreciated, but the inherent risk of any interaction in this world remained starkly clear. She quickly finished her espresso, gathered her tablet, and melted back into the anonymity she so carefully cultivated, the brief moment of connection filed away, analyzed for risk.

As the season progressed, the races established a demanding pattern: intense effort from Ollie, occasional frustration with the Haas's limitations, fierce midfield battles often involving Lawson, and the constant, underlying tension of guarding their secret. Exiting the engineering office after a draining debrief, Ollie's focus instantly shifted. His gaze swept the corridor, unconsciously scanning for Lira, for cameras, the relaxed posture replaced by a subtle alertness – the mental switch flipping as soon as the garage door closed behind him.

It was an exhausting tightrope walk performed without a net; while the world watched his performance on track, the truly dangerous balancing act remained invisible, happening just out of sight.

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[scoriarose]

i love how much you love your snakes

I can't help but love them! They are just so precious. And honestly they are incredibly loving to me too! Sometimes the world seems so big and impossible, and I'm just one insignificant human among billions. But to my girls, I am their whole world. And every day they show me how much they love me. So I can never let them down. We are just a little multi-species family who loves each other very much!

Earlier today Scoria was playing in my blankets with me laying next to her, and she came over and wanted up on me. I put her on my chest and laid with her head over my heart. We just relaxed like that for an hour- I'm pretty sure she fell asleep for a bit because when I picked her up she did the biggest yawn ever.

Sakura is becoming a little sweetie pie too. She's very timid but usually snuggles me at least once a week now, and has gotten very good at staying calm while she's out. She's also gotten really good at target training! I'm proud of her progress. C:

I love my mommy and my sister thiiiiiis much. You can't see how much? Well that's cuz it's so big! We're inside it, it goes for miles and miles and miles!

You two are embarrassing. I'm not here. Don't look at me.

[leori-the-unlearned]

the way digimon does conflict/drama between two characters who should be or are close: chef’s kiss <3

the way sonic idw handles creating conflict/drama between two characters who should be or are close: *wilting flower*

[sureuncertainty]

i did NOT just see someone saying that stephanie beatriz is "clearly not a singer" oh my GOD

[musical-chick-13]

Once again: the so-called "General Fandom History," in terms of which things get held up as Iconic™ or Well-Done™ or Worth Analyzing™ has disproportionately focused on (cis, abled) white men. Some of us would like to not have everything be focused on this one demographic and would, in fact, love to not constantly hear--implicitly or explicitly--how stories about people like us are inherently less interesting or less worthy of telling.

"Remember your history," WE KNOW THE HISTORY. AND WE WANT TO MOVE ON.