#summer break

[reasonandempathy]

One of the most personal, saddest things about living in America is the summertime.

There is 0 reason for American adults not to have a summer break. I can only say this with a full throat so loud, but other countries have policies and laws that give adults summertime.

It is not a joke to say France is kind of shutdown for August. There are over a dozen countries that have enough mandatory, legally required leave available to take an entire month off, or more. PLUS mandatory PAID holidays.

It's Brazil and Russia (ooh scary BRIC countries outgrowing the US and coming for us). India AND China give up to 2 weeks mandatory vacation leave, plus sick leave on top.

It's Afghanistan (20 days). It's Angola (22). It's Argentina(25) and Armenia (25) and Australia (20). It's Cambodia (technically unlimited; you can eventually get 15 or 17 days per month vacation).

That us on top of mandatory PAID public holidays. Cambodia can somehow manage 27 mandatory paid holidays plus upwards of 18 vacation days per year and going up from there, and we in the US can't even manage mandatory paid holidays.

We don't even get paid on Christmas and Memorial Day. And even trying to convince some people, let alone politicians, that everyone should get paid on Christmas is unfair to compare to pulling teeth.

Please. Please. I want to have a better life. I want you to have a better life.

I want you to not miss Summer Break. Because France and Cambodia don't.

[alexturntable]

they have the same car shorts

[epiph-annie]

tw : you might fall in love

[ummick]

via lailahasanovic's ig story - august 15, 2024

[jenny-jinya]

See you in september, gotta chill with berries, butterflies and massive sun burns <3

See ya soon! :)

[pha55ed]

Pasilyo | F2 (kimi bday celly)

type :: fluff tw/cw :: none contains :: kimi!, paul, pepe, zak, jak request :: beach day kimi bday celly prompt for our one and only summah KING PAUL ARON OFC!! and pepe, zak, jm, jak 🫶 (i have no idea who jm is buttt i know a litttleee bit about jak so this is my first time writing for him!) link to kimi bday celly!

Kimi Antonelli | 04

Going to the beach with Kimi during summer break had to be one of your favorite things ever. Not only was his family super sweet with you, but you got to meet your mini-best-friend, his sister! Kimi loved how well you got along with his sibling, it was always heart-warming to see you bond with her.

As you and his sister played together, Kimi came towards you both. Except, he was swimming underneath the water. This meant that he was playing his favorite game: "shark". Basically, he would go underwater and grab either you or his sister and drag you under.

Although you and his sister hated this game, he always forced you guys to play. As you screamed alongside his sister, trying to tell her to swim faster, you were too late. You watched as she instantly sunk to the bottom as Kimi grabbed her foot. If it wasn't broad daylight and if you didn't see Kimi's ugly teal and orange shorts, you would have been mortified.

You did your best to run away, leaving his sister behind. But you were too slow for Kimi, who was so fast for some reason. If Kimi wasn't a racer, you always thought he would be a swimmer of some kind, maybe a lifeguard. Distracted by your thoughts, you felt a hand grab your foot, you let out a scream. But your cries were muffled as you were quickly pulled under the water and met with Kimi's face.

The only thing you hated about beach days was the lack of PDA that you and Kimi could do. You didn't mind doing small PDA in front of his parents usually, but since you were both in such little clothing it felt 10x times more inappropriate for some reason. Kimi always insisted that his parents don't care and that they're super chill - but you refused to kiss whilst in bathing suits.

Knowing this, Kimi took his one opportunity to do what he's been wanting to do all day: kiss you. Whilst under the water, his hands cupped your face, pulling you closer as he gave you a quick peck on the lips.

Paul Aron | 17

"Paul, I'm literally going to shit myself in the water!!!" You yelled at him, but your pleas were unheard as he laughed. His smile was so bright that you'd rather look at the sun instead of his pearly whites. Although you begged to not go for another round of surfing, Paul insisted that you try it once more.

You borrowed his surf board and was only going on baby waves to test out surfing. Despite the waves being the size of a "pea" in Paul's opinion, to you, they were massive. Although it was your first time, you were doing really good thanks to Paul's help.

So once again, you made your way towards another wave as Paul cheered. Although there were other families at the beach, Paul didn't care and continued to shout praises as you rode a small wave. If he could, he would have recorded you like a proud parent.

The entire day, he's been glued to your side as he helped you learn how to stand on a board, swim you back to shore, and give you handfuls of compliments on your surfing and looks. Even though you felt bald with your hair wet and slightly insecure in your bathing suit, he always made sure to tell you to shut up as he gives you a kiss.

You always thought you couldn't fall deeper for him, but you always did. And the same goes for him: watching you smile, hearing your proud giggles as you say "I did it!" to him, and seeing you without any makeup in a nice swimsuit - he'd marry you right then and there if he could.

Pepe Marti | 21 there's no beach photos of him :(

Swimming was something Pepe only did if he had the proper gear. Not in the cool way, like swim caps or a nice pair of swim trunks. But instead in the loser way, in which he NEEDED his stupid little kid googles and his stupid baby paddle board.

So, as you hurriedly slap sunscreen on him before he ran off, he snapped his dumbass googles onto his face. Just like a dog, he dived into the water and as you looked at the beach, you realized he had matching googles with a different little kid who looked roughly 7 year olds.

And despite being roughly 7 year old, the little boy gave Pepe a weird look, silently saying "Aren't you too old for this?" You couldn't help but snicker under your breathe as you walked calmly towards Pepe, who was splashing around as if he was drowning.

"(Y/N)!" He said excitedly as he handed you his paddle board. "Let's play a game!!" A large smile was on his face, making it impossible for you to say no.

"Okay, what game?" You said with a sweet smile.

"Let's see who can hold their breathe the longest!!!" He said excitedly, before you could agree he started a countdown. "3, 2, 1 GO!"

You watched as his head dived into the water as he held his nose. Little did he know, you weren't under the water...

Zak O'Sullivan | 02

Day time at the beach was something Zak liked, but didn't love. He liked the view, the sound of the waves, and seeing all the happy families. But he hated the sand betting stuck between his toes, the way his hair would get dried out from the sea salt, and the cold breeze that hit him while wet. It just wasn't his style, he'd much rather go to a pool than a beach.

But one thing that he did love, was late night bonfires with his friend group on the beach. Roasting s'mores as you talked with everyone, wrapped in a big jacket as you laughed at stupid stories. It was much more fun than splashing in the water in Zak's opinion.

As you chatted with his friend group, who gladly accepted you into their group, you felt his hand snake around your waist. His head rests on your shoulder, his warm breathe hitting your neck slightly. He felt comfortable around his friends, enough to be affectionate with you.

You smiled, having any of him touch you was an instant way to make you happy. And you smiled even wider as you realized his spare hand reached in front of you, holding a perfectly cooked s'more just for you.

If making a perfect s'more was a competition, Zak would win every time. You laughed at his surprise offer, taking it from his hands as you took a bite. Chocolate was perfectly melted, the graham cracker was lightly warm from the gooey marshmallow.

You felt his hand pull back from your waist, signaling he was going to go back to cooking. On instinct, you grab his hand, placing it back onto your waist. You gave his a small look, that was a silent way of asking him to stay instead of cooking like a manic.

He smiled at you, shaking his head gently as he then placed both hands on your waist as he nuzzled his head into your neck slightly. But it tickled slightly, you laughed as you tried to push him away. But his grip on your waist was stronger as he pulled you in closer to him as he continued to tickle you. His friend group didn't even cringe, only looking away and murmuring how they've never seen him be so soft and gentle.

But he would always be soft and gentle with you, how could he not?

Jak Crawford | 07

Despite how cheesy it is, he loves walking on the beach. Of course he loves the water and jumping in, but he loves talking to you whilst looking at the beach. Watching the light hit you and making you look as if you were sent from heaven. What can he say, he's a big "girlfriend" guy.

Even cuter, is his ambition to find the prettiest shell for his pretty girlfriend. As you chat and walk alongside the shore, laughing at stupid jokes and stories, he'll randomly freeze. He grabs a shell, runs to the ocean to quickly rinse it off and see if it's worthy of giving to you: which is always.

As you walk further along the shore, you're struggling to hold all of the little shells he's gathered for you. But you don't have the heart to tell him to stop. His small gasp when he sees a shell, and then his goofy smile as he runs back to you - how could you ever tell him to stop?

So once again, he handed you yet another shell with a bright smile on his face. Once again, you smiled back and accepted his offer, barely able to hold onto it. As you struggle to walk and hold all the shells, Jak notices and frowns.

"Let me hold some," He says gently, hand reaching out as he grabs a few of the shells he just handed you. As he takes some of the weight, you both continue to walk, giggling and laughing at his stupid jokes and stories once more.

[wecandoit]

12.04.24

i have a plethora of pictures to post on here so disclaimer these pics are probably weeks old. still love this damn song though. been journaling a LOT more and it is, indeed, good for the soul.

📖: Everything I Know About Love by Dolly Alderton | my review

[justc2world]

Summer Break Moodboard 🐠🐚🌴

[akanemnon]

Just a little head's up guys, the Twin Runes comic series will be going on summer break until August 6! 🏝️

Now excuse me while I go rest for a bit-

[umlewis]

"Back at it again, in blue this time around" - september 21, 2024 📷 @.tommyhilfiger / instagram

[umseb]

The Day Sebastian Vettel Decided To Retire From F1 — Then Annoyed Aston Bosses With Climate Campaign

Two years ago, Sebastian Vettel decided to bring an end to his glittering F1 career, so picked up the phone to Matt Bishop, then Aston Martin comms boss. He details the ensuing scramble and Vettel's increasing determination to speak out

Just over two years ago, on Wednesday July 27, 2022, I was forced to do something that I really hate doing: at the eleventh hour I had to cancel a long-standing dinner arrangement with my husband and two of our dearest friends, who live in New York and were on holiday in London for a week. The reason was that, at 5 pm that afternoon, I received a phone call from Sebastian Vettel telling me that he had decided to announce his retirement from Formula 1 in the Hungarian Grand Prix paddock the following day. I was Aston Martin's chief communications officer at the time, and, when something as big as that is sprung on a Formula 1 team's most senior comms/PR operative, he or she has to drop everything and focus on briefing colleagues in confidence, writing press releases, planning social media content, arranging press conferences, and formulating comms/PR strategies designed to optimise the management of a tricky news narrative that in this case would surely unfold rapidly, and perhaps also trickily, over the next 24, 48, 72, and 96 hours. I have written above that Vettel had "sprung" his decision on me, but, although the imminence of his announcement was a surprise, its content was not. Four months earlier you will recall that he did not travel to Jeddah for the Saudi Arabian Grand Prix, since he was recovering from a bout of Covid-19. His place was taken by Nico Hülkenberg, who, despite race-rustiness caused by his not having competed in F1 the previous year, did a typically excellent job.

Seb had made no secret of his disapproval of the Saudi regime when we had all gone there the first time, in December 2021, and, not surprisingly, in March 2022 rumours soon began to spread to the effect that he had invented a Covid-19 diagnosis so as to avoid racing there a second time. The truth was that he had indeed had Covid-19, and that he was indeed still unwell; however, was he disappointed to have had to skip the 2022 Saudi Arabian Grand Prix? No, he was not. Two weeks later, in Melbourne, he was back. On the Thursday before the Australian Grand Prix, in the Albert Park paddock, I gave him his comms/PR briefing, as was my habit on the Thursday before every grand prix. We discussed media matters of moment, including his not having raced in Jeddah. "The truth is that I was ill, honestly," he said, "but I admit that I don't like or approve of the country, so if I was going to have to miss a race because of Covid-19 that's probably the one I'd want to miss." He paused, smiled, and added, "I'm pretty sure I'm never going to race there again." Then and there I realised that 2022 would probably be his final season as an F1 driver. Not only was the Saudi Arabian Grand Prix going to be a fixture on the F1 calendar for years to come, but also one of Aston Martin's principal sponsors was Aramco, Saudi Arabia's state-owned national oil company. Missing that particular race without a 24-carat excuse would henceforth therefore be impossible for any Aston Martin driver. So, axiomatically, it followed that the only way he could make sure that he would never have to race there again would be to retire from F1 at the end of the year.

On the morning of Thursday, July 28, 2022, having worked until 3 am the night before, my comms/PR team and I issued a video in which our much loved four-time world champion announced his F1 retirement in his own words, and he posted it on his then brand-new Instagram channel at the same time. It included the following sentences, which he spoke with his usual eloquence: "I love this sport but, as much as there's life on track, there's also life off track. Being a racing driver has never been my sole identity. I want to be a great father and a great husband. I believe in change, and progress, and that every little bit you do can make a difference. We all have the same rights, no matter where we come from, what we look like, or whom we love. I'm an optimist and I believe that people are good, but, in addition, I feel that we live in very difficult times. How we shape the next few years will determine the rest of our lives. Talk is not enough. We can't afford to wait. I believe that there's still a race to win." The race to which he was referring was his growing and accelerating commitment to doing whatever he could to leverage his fame and popularity for the good of the inhabitants of planet Earth. That may sound grandiose, but it is also entirely valid. In the two years during which I worked with him, 2021 and 2022, we won awards for the inspirational way in which he did just that.

Just before the 2021 Styrian Grand Prix, helped by local schoolchildren, he created an F1 car-shaped 'bee hotel' at the Red Bull Ring. Three weeks later, straight after the British Grand Prix, in which he had raced hard for forty laps until his Aston Martin's Mercedes engine had terminally overheated, he led a group of volunteer litter-pickers to clear the Silverstone grandstands of the trash that irresponsible spectators had left behind. A month after that, in Hungary, infuriated by that country's new anti-LGBTQ+ legislation, he wore rainbow-coloured sneakers in the F1 paddock, and he donned a similarly hued T-shirt bearing the legend #SameLove as he took the knee on the grid before the race. Throughout the weekend he had talked to journalists and TV crews intelligently, thoughtfully, and compassionately on the subject of LGBTQ+ rights, equality, and inclusion. In May 2022 he visited and spoke inspirationally at HMP (Her, or now His, Majesty's Prison) Feltham, a young offenders institution in a suburb of west London, formally opening a new workshop in which the teenage inmates could learn how to become car mechanics as part of their rehabilitation. Immediately afterwards he and I took a South Western Railways train to London's Waterloo Station, sitting among regular commuters, so that he could spend time with the pupils of Oasis Johanna Primary School, which is in a disadvantaged part of inner London, and after that we went by Uber taxi to a church in Hackney, in the East End, where the BBC's prestigious political television talk show Question Time would be filmed. As the TV cameras rolled, he conversed fluently on the subjects of Brexit, the UK's cost of living crisis, the then-Prime Minister Boris Johnson's 'partygate' shenanigans, and even Finland's desire to join NATO, consummately out-arguing one of his fellow panellists, Suella Braverman, who was then the Attorney General for England and Wales and the Advocate General for Northern Ireland.

In addition, as the months went by, he continued to speak out in support of what he saw as humankind's collective global responsibility to address the climate crisis, doing so with increasing regularity, vehemence, and fearlessness, with the result that he began to irritate the very most senior people at Aston Martin, even though what he said tended to please most journalists and fans. "I don’t care," he said when he learned of his big bosses' disquiet. "I must do what's right." Behind the scenes what he did was perhaps even more admirable. F1 teams receive communications from troubled people all the time. You try to do what you can to help them, but sometimes their difficulties are of the type that human kindness alone cannot resolve. I am thinking of recently bereaved people, terminally ill people, profoundly disabled people, people with debilitating mental health issues, etc. Sometimes all you can do is send them a team cap signed by a driver. It is not much, and it breaks your heart that you cannot do more, but it is better than nothing.

Yet Vettel always tried to do more. On one occasion, I had been contacted by a young man who was deeply depressed. I told Seb about him, and he said, "Let's do a Zoom call with him." So I arranged it. I had thought that Seb might speak for five minutes or so, but no. He chatted animatedly for more than twenty minutes, with touching humility and heart-warming empathy, and I feel confident when I say that those twenty-odd minutes were significant in expediting the lad's mental and emotional recovery. A few months later, Seb hand-wrote the boy a four page letter. He gave it to me at a grand prix-I cannot remember which one-and he instructed me to post it on when I returned to the UK. I read it before I did so, and the tenderness and beauty of Seb's prose brought me to tears. There are many other examples of his remarkable generosity and sensitivity: too many to mention, in fact. This column has been about Vettel the man, not Vettel the driver. He was fast and clever in the cockpit, and I may well write about that side of him one day. I could write much more about Vettel the man, too, for I have dozens of stories that I could tell on that subject, because I worked very closely with him for two years and, more importantly, because he is a truly great man. In my long career I am lucky enough to have spent time in F1 teams with four world champions-Seb, Lewis Hamilton, Fernando Alonso, and Jenson Button-and they are all fantastic guys in their own, very different, ways. But, in my 61 years on this planet, I can state with confident and emphatic certainty that Sebastian Vettel, from the small town of Heppenheim, south-west Germany, is one of the most impressive people whom I have ever had the pleasure and honour to know, whether that be inside or outside F1. As he is fond of saying, "You can't always be the best, but you can always do your best." As a maxim to live by, it is hard to beat.

article by matt bishop

[jyjkj]

McLaren (Instagram)

I’m convinced McLaren just want us all dead in a ditch

[alexturntable]

charles_leclerc never without @/lec 💛

[umgeorge]

📷 @.miguelvazquez4 / instagram

[pretzlforpresident]

School let out for summer break for me today

[chanelnumbermine]

too hot to handle | paul aron x fem!reader

summary: the hot italian summer proves challenging for all the wrong reasons. testing your self-control around paul has never been harder

warnings: none, suggestive content.

having been from estonia, a country forming part of the nordic states, one of the colder places in europe, paul treasured every drop of sunlight a day gifted him. he didn't mind getting sunburnt, never complained about the heat and never missed a chance to tease you about your hatred for the sun. so when he offered you a place on his yacht for a cruise around the mediterranean, you were reluctant to accept. paul was an extremely active person, some would say his energy could rival an eager puppy. always swimming, running around the boat to adjust the course, laughing about something with his friends.

you were complete opposites. when he brimmed with excitement to climb a mountain and watch the sunset from the peak, you dreamed of a lazy evening. when he wanted to explore another island, you were craving ice cream to battle the excruciating temperature. he was sunbathing on the boat deck and you were swimming in the sea. it wasn't about your lack of energy or lack of interest in spending quality time with your best friend. it was quite the contrary.

paul had a certain affinity - or lack thereof - for shirts. being a young man confident in his body his outfits consisted of him wearing swimming trunks or short shorts, exposing his muscular chest and strong arms. even the slightest of moves made his muscles flex and he wasn't shy about showing it off. which was fun for him, but considerably less for you. sure, he was a sight for sore eyes. and you couldn't help but stare.

it was wrong, you kept telling yourself. to look at your best friend and think of tracing the tan lines, moving your nails along his muscles, feeling his warm body tensing underneath your touch. to feel his arms tighten around your frame and inhale the scent of his hair, wet from the salty water. to run your hand through his curls, caressing his face, from his cheekbones, to the swollen pouty lips to his strong veiny neck. and, well, with each passing day it was getting harder to control yourself. whereas paul was getting bored of the usual tasks and was increasingly frustrated with your demeanour. the harder you pushed him away, the harder he pulled. and today was the day he has had enough.

you left breakfast early. dressed up in your favourite bikini and dove into the sea. jumping far into the water, the cold enveloping your body, taking away the burning from your skin and the unnecessary thoughts from your head. you dove deeper, treading the waves until you were out of breath. were you running away? maybe. just for a second. usually nobody bothered to disturb your morning swim, but today a tall figure was standing on the edge of the deck, his body corded and a shadow of a smile lingering on his lips. unbeknownst to you, paul was been following your every move.

he dove into the water and quickly caught up with you. pushing through the waves, he swam under your body and reappeared just in front of you. "hey." he said and put his hands on your shoulders, stopping you in your tracks. you yelped ans tried to push him away, water in your eyes blinking you, the sudden contact unsettling you. his voice did little to calm you, unleashing a bunch of butterflies in your stomach. but his grip proved too strong. you pushed your knee against his chest, hoping to overpower him. he just moved his palms to your lower back and your legs instinctively wrapped around his waist.

your voice died in your throat. "hey." you said weakly, as his eyes bore into your skull. lost in the moment, you failed to notice how close your bodies became. his hands almost on your hips, your lips millimetres away from kissing his forehead. your crotch rubbing against the rubber band of his swimming trunks. his head buried in the valley of your breasts. but he was staring right into your eyes.

"you're not easy to get hold of, you know?" he complained, breathless. you wanted to throw your head back, scream, bury your face in his chest. whatever, as long as you wouldn't have to stare into his puppy eyes. you were glad for the water surrounding you, as he couldn't feel how sweaty your hands were becoming and couldn't hear the blood rushing through your veins. so you just swallowed and smiled awkwardly. "what do you mean?" he moved his right hand to the center, the other one now holding your thigh.

he sighed. "really, now!” a wave trashed on to back, the water dripping on his curls and getting in his face. you chuckled and moved it to the side. he murmured a soft thank you and looked up at you again. "just missed you, that's all" he admitted bashfully, which made you to laugh softly. that was paul's charm. not the flirty demeanour nor the confidence when he drove a car. it was moments when his facade cracked and the he laughed innocently. how you loved that laugh. so you did what you weren't supposed to do. you leaned forward and pressed a kiss onto his forehead.

when you leaned back and saw the shock in his eyes, you panicked. let go of his body and tried to swim away as far as humanly possible. you kicked him softly in the stomach. your cheeks and eyes were burning. the embarrassment being spread through your bloodstream instead of oxygen. god, what the hell was that? you wanted to swim to the bottom of the sea and bury yourself in the sand and never face paul again. you swam with all your might, driven by adrenaline and remaining pride.

the poor blonde barely collected himself, fighting for every breath, struggling to piece together what just happened. and he couldn't. with you out his sight, his hands empty, thoughts rushing through his head. he bit his lip, looking around for the familiar figure. he gasped, finally seeing your head resurfacing meters away. he didn't think twice, he started chasing you again. he was trembling with emotions, his eyes lost. he caught you ankle and wrapped his hands around your frame tightly. you didn't fight back. just laid your head on his shoulder. "im sorry" you whispered.

your breath tickled his neck, he laughed quietly. he tilted his head so it was resting on top of yours. "you scared me, now" paul pressed a small peck into your hair. "can't promise i won't do it again, darling" the nickname made you shiver and you slowly pulled away from him. he pressed his lips together and looked into your eyes, panicked you would get away again. so he did the only thing he could think of looking at your flushed cheeks and watering eyes.

he kissed you. breathless and scared, full of unspoken desires and muted feelings, he kissed you. as if it was the first kiss in his life. this time it was him who pulled away quickly, swallowing his pride and groaning internally. you were shaking. "fuck, im sorry" his voice broke "i don know wha-" he didn't manage to finish the sentence, because your lips crashed into his again. latching onto his lower lip hungrily, your teeth grazing his tongue when he kissed you back, invading your mouth. your hands on the sides of his face, his fingers buried in your hair. your could feel the salt on your tongue, was it the water, your tears? you pulled away when it became hard to breathe.

“i don’t feel sorry at all now”

“neither do i”

masterlist