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Charles Leclerc and George Russell in those few laps:

TBH this can be applied to more than one race:

The 0.5 seconds of Lestappen action:

Ollie overtaking Liam:

Ferrari: Charles can we-

Charles:

Liam Lawson hearing the commentators say that McLaren has competition from Ferrari, Mercedes, and "at least one Redbull"

Oscar realizing he can win this home race to make up for Australia:

Me as a Ferrari and Redbull fan watching this race:

Ferrari fans repeat after me:

🔥 This year is our year 🔥

This Instagram reel by Red Bull made me go into feral writer mode so here's a piece I wrote on that:

----

It's dark. The dust rises up in waves, the wind blowing through the track in the silence of midnight. It's another year. 2025.

Another year of anticipation- who will win the championship.

Some say it's going to be different this year.

The others?

Oh, they are waiting for the Dutch National Anthem again.

It's been four years. Four years of seeing the midnight blue of Red Bull Racing on the top step of the podium. Four years of waiting for the inevitable win of the Flying Dutchman. Mad Max.

What's it going to be this year?

It's not a question anymore, is it.

Footsteps.

A lone shadow stretches across the track, the soft moonlight glinting off the helmet emblazoned with red, white, and blue. Number 1 stands out starkly on the dark background- the champion's number.

The Red Bull Racing suit stretches over his shoulders, the two bulls going head-to-head red on the midnight blue. He looks up, blue eyes bright in the darkness, shining with determination and the confidence that says yeah, it's mine this time too.

You thought you had a chance, didn't you.

He smiles, showing a hint of sharp canines that most drivers have been torn by.

Keep dreaming, he says with a shrug.

The crowd is angry. They are sick of seeing him on the top step, lifting that trophy like he's done hundreds of times, the same sharp grin on his face.

It starts to drizzle. The crowd scrambles for shelter.

He doesn't.

The rain pours down from the heavens, a challenge from the gods, daring him not to slip on the unforgiving wet track. The water soaks into the midnight blue fabric, turning it a few shades darker, almost black. The track glistens from the falling raindrops, the dust settling under the weight of the biting cold that has people shivering under their umbrellas.

He walks, never once losing his grip on the wet asphalt.

Why?

Because he is the rain of Milton Keynes.

-----

It's dark still. The only shade of midnight blue is stretching across the track, casting of shadow of inevitable victory over the asphalt.

Max Verstappen flinches as he spots a glint of red from the corner of his eyes.

The sound of hooves galloping across the track rings out in the otherwise silent night.

Max smiles. It's about time.

He speeds up, the corners of the track straightening themselves for him, but he's not paying attention to that. His eyes are on the rearview mirror, the number sixteen on the car behind him, his shadow that followed him from karting to formula 1, the one that he can't seem to shake off.

Not that he wants to.

The Ferrari engine roars to life behind him, and Max feels his veins alight with adrenaline. Yes, that's it.

Blue and Red chase each other on the tracks, every other shade getting lost in the sheer power the two primary colours exclude as they twirl around each other, inches apart but never colliding.

The crowd is silent as they watch the sun chase down the midnight rain. They can't take their eyes off, as everything else dissolves and their vision is narrowed down to two single cars that seem to race each other until the end of time...

The cars align on the track. Two wavelengths of the spectrum of light that moves in unimaginable speeds but never leaves the other behind.

The two drivers look at each other, soft green irises meeting amused blue ones.

"je suis juste derrière toi." The words ring out in red. (I'm right behind you.)

"ik weet dat je bent." The blue answers. (I know you are.)

The shared laughter is drowned out by the roar of the engines. Max pushes harder, knowing the Ferrari will follow. It does. The driver smirks at him, Max laughs again.

He's never alone on the track.

He hasn't been since Val D’Argenton.

Not that he's complaining. It's nice to know someone can take that trophy from him any moment now.

Makes it worthwhile to hold onto- while he still can.

.....

WHAT DID I SAY !?!!!?

We didn't get the WCC but thank you Max for giving hope to the tifosi in the first few laps

A+ for effort

Your in-laws are so proud of you baby ❤️

There's now an 8 point gap between Lando and Charles in the WDC standings