Who Needs Coffee When This Is The First Thing You See In The Morning

Thats it. No more kimi and ollie in prema. No more silly little bearnelli challenges. No more holding the other around the waist and use the excuse of 'im going to fall'. No more 'its ollie, and its kimi'. No more giggling manically at something the other said that wasnt even very funny. No more random hugs. No more getting hit in the face with whipped cream on birthdays. No more getting tickled by rene whenever doing something cheeky or a prank. No more 'i love you'. No more 'he is my best friend'. No more driver and engineer therapy. No more actually being taller than someone for once. No more being the tallest out of everyone. No more climbing on tires and being scared of getting hurt. No more sitting on the floor after a bad race and talking about it while being upset. No more 'mate you said you studied it!!'. No more casual air-kisses. No more 'kimi! Kiss me!'. No more 'bad race for me, but congrats to @kimiantonelli/@olliebearman!'. No more talking about what is love while blushing and giggling. No more 'his best feature is his lips..'. No more showing eachother hilarious little tiktoks and cackling over them. No more 'eh eh eh eh eh!!' In prema videos. No more casually reposting an edit of us on tiktok. No more standing as close together as possible even when there is a lot of room. No more hugging around the waist while riding on a scooter together. No more height difference kings. No more bearnelli.

fierce rivals who hate each other 🤨

A piece about survivors guilt.

This comic isn't perfect. I started it back in October 2023, and every time I picked up my pen, I wept.

I bring this to you today, on 9/11, in hopes that you reflect on this day a little differently than how most Americans would. Let it move you to continue to boycott, protest and challenge your family, friends and colleagues. You have a bigger impact than you would believe.

Thank you for reading this with an open heart.

From the river to the sea...

I'd like to bring to attention the fact that the figures depicted above are a gross undercount of the actual number of deaths. I scoured the internet high and low to source my findings and not a single one could break down the devastation that befell an individual ethnicity. Instead, they lumped a bunch of ethnicities together, provided a general timeline, and called it a day, reinforcing the sheer scale of dehumanization propagated in the west. The only consistency between all the articles I looked up was the 4.5 to 4.7 million figure I've included above, and even then, they were all published by western media news outlets... the very same that have been so unreliable and complicit in the genocide of Palestinians today. So I have to take everything they say with a grain of salt.

We are not just numbers.

All of us have ambitions and desires and lives worth living.

With that said, this is your friendly reminder to:

Donate an e-sim

Donate to PCRF to provide Palestinian children aid

Donate to Pious Projects to provide woman with feminine hygiene kits

Donate to CareForGaza to provide food to displaced families in Gaza either through their Gofundme or their paypal

Donate to any of the vetted gofundme campaigns on GazaFunds to help Palestinians trying to flee Gaza.

And if you or someone you know sees or experiences a hate crime and can afford it, SUE. This is a more effective use of your money than most realise. The reason zionists act with impunity is because of the normalization of white supremacy and oppression of ethnic minorities. Challenging that in any capacity tells them that there are consequences to their actions and makes them think twice before engaging in hate crimes and helps raise all of us up against the systems currently in place that let them get away with it.

If you can't donate or spend any money, you can:

Do your daily clicks.

Boycott targeted companies on the BDS list (if you're like me and you don't want a single dollar to go towards anything supporting Israel right now, you can use Bdnaash to double check what products are okay to buy, but the BDS list is sufficient as it is a strategic attack and proven very effective thus far)

Flood your representatives emails and voicemails with how you won't be voting for them unless their politics align with an immediate ceasefire in Gaza.

Attend a protest, be LOUD.

Challenge your circle of friends, family and colleagues with conversations about Palestine. (THIS IS THE MOST UNDERRATED AND MOST EFFECTIVE THING YOU CAN DO)

and if you're really up to, be disruptive in any capacity that you can think of towards major corporations benefiting from this onslaught. (i.e. halting military manufacturers from production + shipments, sticking boycott stickers on products at your market etc)

And finally, if your country wasn't mentioned in the above excerpt, it was no deliberate omission on my part and I encourage you to come forward and tell your story about the suffering of your people so that this may be a learning opportunity for everyone.

You are seen.

You are not alone.

Thank you again if you've read this far.

From the river to the sea...

I honestly don't know how to express everything I'm going through right now.

I remember being about 6 years old and seeing that boy with messy curls and a catchy smile, how even through a screen he transmitted his love for the sport to me. Now at 20 years old seeing him leave feels too much.

I'm going to miss him so much. I hope you have many more adventures and enjoy the butterflies.

Thank you very much Daniel.

if i see one more person compare landoscar to brocedes i will CRASH OUT.

WARNING: nothing too aggressive, just misunderstandings

The scorching heat of the Qatari desert could be felt even in the shadow of the luxurious paddock structures. Y/n Stroll, daughter of magnate Lawrence Stroll, walked with firm steps but was clearly upset, drawing the attention of onlookers. She was impossible to ignore: perfectly styled hair, carefully chosen designer clothes, and an air of someone who knew the world was at her feet. Doriane Pin, observing the scene from a distance, rolled her eyes.

"Look who’s throwing a tantrum again," Doriane murmured to a teammate, who chuckled in response.

Ever since Y/n had started accompanying her father on some Formula 1 trips, Doriane had always seen her as the walking stereotype of a “daddy’s girl.” Spoiled, constantly surrounded by privileges, and with the unique ability to turn every minor obstacle into a drama. It was irritating. For Doriane, who had fought hard to carve out her place in motorsport, it was almost an insult.

But that morning, a misunderstanding during a team meeting had left Y/n even angrier. It wasn’t clear whether it was a translation or communication issue, but Y/n interpreted it as questioning her ability to be there and stormed out of the paddock.

"Such a spoiled kid," Doriane muttered again, adjusting her jacket as she prepared for the city tour organized for team members.

---

The group gathered at the hotel entrance, ready to explore the local market and, of course, ride camels—an almost obligatory experience for tourists. To Doriane’s surprise, Y/n showed up to join the group, though her expression remained closed off.

“Oh, you’re here,” Doriane remarked, unable to hide the irony in her voice. “I thought the desert wouldn’t be worthy of you.”

Y/n shot her an icy glare. “And I thought I’d heard every cliché comment about being Lawrence Stroll’s daughter, but it seems you still have a few left.”

The quick retort caught Doriane off guard. She opened her mouth to respond but closed it again, deciding to focus on the walk to the market.

---

As the minutes passed, the group began to relax. The market was a vibrant maze of colors, sounds, and smells. Incense burned at every corner, and local vendors competed for attention with embroidered rugs, spices, and jewelry.

Doriane watched as Y/n crouched in front of a craft stall, examining handmade bracelets. For the first time, she seemed... genuine. The usual air of superiority was gone; she was just a curious young woman, enchanted by something simple.

“These are pretty,” Doriane commented, approaching without thinking.

Y/n looked up at her, surprised by the friendly tone, but gave a small smile. “They are, right? I think my mom would like them.”

Doriane tilted her head, intrigued. “You’re more thoughtful than I expected.”

Y/n chuckled softly, still browsing the bracelets. “And you’re quicker to judge than I expected.”

---

The tour continued, and Doriane found herself surprisingly comfortable in Y/n’s company. There was something about the girl’s sharp comments that made her laugh. At one point, when Y/n almost fell while climbing onto a camel, they both laughed so hard that tears streamed down their faces.

“Okay, okay, maybe you’re not as perfect as you seem,” Doriane joked, still recovering from the laughter.

“And maybe you’re less grumpy than you seem,” Y/n shot back with a sly smile.

The afternoon went on with lighthearted conversations, and Doriane began to realize that there was more to Y/n than met the eye. There was a vulnerability hidden beneath the façade of a spoiled girl. Perhaps Y/n wasn’t so different from her; perhaps she, too, carried the weight of others’ expectations.

---

Back at the hotel, as the sun set over the dunes, the two walked side by side. There were no more sarcastic remarks or provocations, just a comfortable silence.

“I always thought you hated me,” Y/n confessed suddenly, looking out at the horizon.

Doriane stopped, facing her. “I didn’t hate you. I just… thought you didn’t understand how much effort it takes to be here. That everything was easy for you.”

Y/n sighed, crossing her arms. “It might look that way, but… living in my dad’s shadow isn’t as easy as you think. Everyone always expects something from me. No matter what I do, it’s never enough.”

Doriane nodded slowly, understanding for the first time what Y/n meant.

---

The next morning, the paddock was as busy as ever. It was race day, and the tension hung in the air. Y/n and Doriane barely had time to exchange words as the teams prepared.

But moments before the start, while Doriane was making her final adjustments, Y/n appeared out of nowhere.

“Are you nervous?” Y/n asked, looking her in the eyes.

“No more than usual,” Doriane replied, trying to sound confident.

S/n hesitated, biting her lip. Then, without warning, she leaned in and kissed her. It was quick but full of meaning, as if she wanted to say everything words couldn’t.

Doriane froze for a second, but before she could say anything, Y/n gave a shy smile. “Good luck,” she said, turning and disappearing into the crowd.

Doriane raised a hand to her lips, still feeling the warmth of the kiss, and smiled. Maybe Y/n Stroll wasn’t anything like she had imagined. And, perhaps, that was exactly what fascinated her.

nothing scares me more than a canucks third period

ollie and kimi sitting on the floor of the prema driver’s truck after their last feature race debrief watching as every engineer and mechanic filter out for the last time from the place they were raised. No more Prema Party’s. no more floor is lava. No more birthday pies in the face. No more Pedro or Rene or Carlo. They’ll never film another lap or stupid challenge. They just have each other and the last dwindling few minutes they can spend as kids before being told to leave

I want to write something for Max winning but I can't focus when Jenson looks SO GOOD😩

Between the dark circles and him talking to himself I think his demons are winning.

as things get progressively worse, Quinn is caught on camera talking to his ghosts