#Interview Preparation 2025 | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

see-arcane · 2 months ago

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Welcome to Dracula Season 2025!

We're only a few weeks shy of May and our journey with Jonathan into the Carpathians. As we prepare for another helping of paprika hendl and ensuing horror, let's refresh with some of the Dracula-adjacent goodies that have accumulated over the last year...

1. Dracula Daily

The Substack that started it all. Dracula Daily was started by Matt Kirkland in 2021, though it took off in the Tumblr book club in 2022. Since then, we’ve turned Dracula Season, the period between May 3 and November 7, into a months-long undead extravaganza of memes, literary analysis, and overdue love for Bram Stoker’s novel, Dracula as the fantastic gothic gift it is. With the simplified format of putting the book’s entries in chronological order, each one emailed out on the same date they were written, we’re forced to live on the same calendar and waiting game as the characters. Whether you’re a new reader or a returning bookworm, welcome to Castle Dracula!

Dracula Daily Substack: Link

2. The Holmwood Foundation

Fresh from crowdfunding and wrapping up production of its first season, The Holmwood Foundation, @theholmwoodfoundation on Tumblr, is an indie podcast coming around the corner with a genuinely unique take on a supernatural sequel to the events of Dracula…which didn’t end quite how Bram Stoker’s in-universe novel depicted. The first episode is out, featuring a pair of unlucky archivists—what horror podcast is complete without them?—the ghosts of Jonathan and Mina Harker, Dracula’s severed head, and a hiking trip across the moors to escape some shambling undead horrors. Give the preview and its miscellaneous teasers a listen if you want a taste of contemporary revenant scares (and to listen to the world’s most irate descendant of the Harkers pop a blood vessel).

The Holmwood Foundation homepage: Link

Podcast episodes and side content: Link

3. Dracula: 2004

Another indie audio drama trying to crowdfund its way out of the coffin! Not only an adaptation of Dracula, but one set just a short step into the 21st century, @starstrider-productions' Dracula: 2004 wants to tell the story of our beloved Victorian vampire targets-turned-slayers in an era of flip phones, Dictaphones, and found footage-tinted horror. To judge by the summary and extremely promising character bios for our refreshed cast, it’s going to be a one-of-a-kind listen. But only if we can get them to their goal! By the time I post this, they’ll have less than 20 days left to cover the production cost.

If you want to drag this beautiful undead carcass into the moonlight, please chip into their campaign if you can and share it with your fellow Dracula lovers and horror podcast enthusiasts! The smallest tier is £10 GBP, ($13 for my fellow ‘murricans), and every bit helps.

Indiegogo crowdfunding page: Link

4. Re: Dracula, Re: Carmilla, (Coming Soon: Re: Frankenstein!)

Giving an undead rebirth to the original Dracula Daily format, the podcast Re: Dracula turns the same chronological date-by-date read of the novel an audio drama twist. It’s made of professional voice acting, soundscaping, and has its own soundtrack! This thing is also replete with many a meme and interview as the garlic garnish on top. Give it a listen if you haven’t already and check out their Tumblr, @re-dracula.

Likewise, you need to check out their most recent projects. Re: Carmilla, which gives Sheridan le Fanu’s Carmilla its own supple and sinuous sapphic treatment, and the upcoming Re: Frankenstein, currently on the hunt for voice actors to fill the roles of Mary Shelley’s gothic opus, Frankenstein. Everyone say thank you to this cast and crew for feeding us the overdue classic supernatural theatre feast we’ve been waiting on for actual centuries.

Re: Dracula: Link

Re: Carmilla: Link

Re: Frankenstein (Casting Call!): Link

5. The League of Extraordinary Gentlefolk

You want the Drac Attack Pack (plus a surviving Quincey Morris) with the Harkers happily married and questionably human? You want Irene Norton née Adler treated with respect and allowed to actually have her chosen romance with Godfrey Norton that was half the damn point of “A Scandal in Bohemia,” along with appearances from a certain consulting detective and his doctorial companion? You want Dr. Jekyll as an upstanding scientist on the brink of some unsavory new changes? You want Wells’ Invisible Man being cantankerous and developing friendships against his will? You want sundry forces of mortal and supernatural peril roiling up from under the foundations of Victorian era literature like an eerie eldritch smoke? Then The League of Extraordinary Gentlefolk is the comic for you!

An ongoing webcomic, fresh from its second story arc—a certain submarine, a bastard of a marksman, and an uncanny gothic villainess are involved—LXGF brings together a huge crossover cast of everyone’s favorite characters from the Classics section. Started by the amazing @mayhemchicken and posted on @lxgentlefolkcomic, this series is a love letter to beloved Victorian era lit that actually understands, acknowledges, and loves the books and their canons! What a concept! Alan.

Tumblr: Link

Comic: Link

Non-Canon Silliness: Link

Fanfiction: Link

6. Blood of My Blood (and Other Gorgeous Gothic Dramas of the Ibrithir-Was-Here Universe)

I’ve made a lot of amazing friends since Dracula Season became my favorite time of the year (read: most of it). Many of those friends have been brain-meltingly talented and creative in the works they’ve made based in or inspired by Dracula and adjacent works. But one of the best in terms of artful storytelling has to be @ibrithir-was-here.

Me and other scribblers and spit-ballers tripped and fell into what began as a dark Dracula Bad Ending improv, everyone chasing after each other with ‘Yes, and—,’ additions to a vampiric domestic horror story. That’s turned into a full 100+ chapter tale with its concluding climax just now about to hit its zenith. That story is Blood of My Blood, an incredibly fun and fiendish gothic what-if? One in which we answer the questions:

What if things took a grim turn in the climax at Transylvania? What if half our heroes died and Mina turned, with a child already growing in her undead womb? What if Jonathan threw himself on the twisted ‘mercy’ of Dracula to protect his family, trading his servitude, sanity, blood, and participation in an intimately worrying series of mind games with his new master? What if young Quincey Harker was raised in this warped castle and then, at the cusp of manhood, was sent out into the world to learn the buried truths of his family? What if Dracula was none too thrilled about his adopted heir leaving the nest, and took grisly measures to bring him back..?

The answers have been written and lushly illustrated for the past year and change, ripe with romances, revenges, bloodshed, and one of the most gloriously fucked up family dynamics you’ve ever seen in a gothic drama.

…And if you’re in the mood for another flavor of the latter, Ibrithir has also cooked up a pile of sinister samples to indulge in.

(n)Ever Loved, a take on the origins of the ‘Weird Sisters’ before they were munching kids meals.

The Wretched Family, an AU in which Frankenstein’s Creature saved the little girl from the river a moment too late, and coerces Victor into reviving her drowned body as a Creature like himself.

A Cruel Love, giving a spotlight to a possible history of Countess Mircalla and how love played a part in her undeath and the demise of her first smitten paramour.

Second Stanza, a certain Opera Ghost returns to haunt Christine and Raoul’s son, supposedly as a guardian—whether the boy likes it or not.

Rosemary is for Remembrance, in which a young artist grapples with the bloody shadow of a man who shares her face. A long dead hedonist by the name of Dorian Gray…

Go give them all a read!

Blood of My Blood: Link

(n)Ever Loved: Link

The Wretched Family: Link 1, Link 2

A Cruel Love: Link 1, Link 2

Second Stanza: Link

Rosemary is for Remembrance: Link

7. Dracula’s Guest the Comic

Want a glimpse of what Jonathan Harker may have gotten up to prior to reaching Castle Dracula? Well, take a look at the comic adaptation of Stoker’s, “Dracula Guest,” by @isablooo! It features our good friend Mr. Harker, some sightseeing, and more than the usual bloodsuckers out for his neck.

Comic: Link

8. Dracula Beyond Stoker Press

Have you ever thought to yourself, “I wish I had an anthology dedicated entirely to stories about one or more specific characters of Dracula?” Me too! And Dracula Beyond Stoker Press is here to deliver. Their most recent issue coming out is about our good friend Jonathan Harker—already preordered my copy!—with Mina Harker’s issue accepting story and cover art submissions starting May 1, 2025. DBS Press already has an amazing store full of paperback zines and merch to go through for other characters and general Dracula-flavored goodies. Go give them and the submission guidelines a gander.

Dracula Beyond Stoker Press: Link

9. Harker (and Other Arcane Horrors)

Harker is my work-in-progress, a novel expanding on the experiences of Jonathan Harker which we never get to see between his and the others’ journal entries in Dracula. It also adds some creative and menacing fleshing out for just how and why Jonathan Harker changed on October 3rd—and perhaps explains what exactly he changed into.

As of now, I am well over twenty chapters in, with over 750 pages written. In the draft, Mina is only just now about to read Jonathan’s journal for the first time. This thing is massive. And I’ve been releasing preview chapters since last Dracula Season! The latest of which is due to drop very soon.

Until then, there’s also an abundance of other horrors I’ve scribbled up in the interim. Some serial, some self-contained, and one in the form of a published novella, The Vampyres, which concerns some undead bastards of classic lit caught under the blade of a very practiced psychopomp. There are a couple preview chapters up to skim too!

Hope you enjoy the read.

Harker (Tumblr): Link

Harker (Substack): Link

Substack (General): Link

The Vampyres: eBook Paperback

[REDACTED – Surprise en route April 18th]

10. What Manner of Man (and Another Gothic Queer Nightmare)

@stjohnstarling has completed one tale of queer horror, romance, and erotica, and is hard at work on the next story. The first was What Manner of Man, a novel with some borrowed blood from Dracula and a wonderful twist on an intense relationship that forms between a priest and a vampire. This book is now completed on the Substack and as an eBook! His next work in progress: A Companion in Vice, building off the patchwork anatomy of Frankenstein.

What Manner of Man (Substack): Link

What Manner of Man (eBook): Link

A Companion in Vice (Summary): Link

11. Project Gutenberg

An online library of countless classic public domain works. Get on it, bookworms!

Dracula - Link

Carmilla - Link

Sheridan le Fanu collection - Link

12. The Internet Archive

As the name says, it’s an archive. It preserves damn near everything, including my favorite ballet…

Dracula Ballet by Michael Pink – Link

13. Romancing the Gothic - My Wild Heart Bleeds

Carmilla fans, storytellers, and scholars, this one is for you. My Wild Heart Bleeds is set to be an anthology dedicated entirely to Sheridan le Fanu’s Carmilla, including commentaries, original works, international and historic perspectives, discussions of adaptations and works inspired by the story… And you have the chance to contribute to it! Regarding submissions, the page says:

Abstracts of 3-400 words and a bio of 2-250 words should be sent to the editors Dr. Sam Hirst and Simon Bacon by June 30th 2025. Chapter of between 5-6000 words will be required by July 2026. We also welcome original creative pieces (artwork, short stories [up to 1,500 words], flash-fiction, poetry, etc) that are inspired by and/or critically engage with ‘Carmilla’ or themes mentioned above. Abstracts or queries should be set to: [email protected]

My Wild Heart Bleeds: Link

BONUS

@cry-ptidd – Blessed us with getting to see the Dracula cast in Hellsing style and showing us why Kohta Hirano didn’t dare to have them in the manga: The Harkers are simply too badass when canonical. (And the Suitors would be too stylish.)

@bluecatwriter – Expanding from Dracula fic to Carmilla fic. Smut abounds.

Poetry – For bonus gothic vampire reference material:

“Lenore” by Gottfried August Bürger, translated by Dante Gabriel Rossetti: Link

“Christabel” by Samuel Taylor Coleridge: Link

Libby the Library App (Sign Up! Support Your Libraries!) - Link

Dracula Season 2024

All the Dracula Season goodies compiled last year: Link

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menagerofmischief · 8 months ago

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HABS incoming...

FICS COMING SUMMER 2025

male drivers have wags, it's time for a female driver to have a hab

-> or, in which drivers get some pretty normal lives and the chance to be a wag for THE f1 princess

nugged update -> cat sitter max verstappen

y/n's always giddy after getting a nugget update, sure she loves her best boy, but it also has something to do with the cat sitter sending the updates

key to my heart -> pianist charles leclerc

y/n drops her pre-race playlist, fans notice there seems to be a lot of songs from a certain pretty pianist

follow you along -> engineer carlos sains

as the end of her mclaren contract draws near, y/n is desperately trying to convience her engineer carlos to come with her to ferrari, and facing the realisation that his car building and strategy skills aren't the only reasons she wants him around

tracks are the new runways -> fashion designer lewis hamilton

nobody was quiet prepared for what the collaboration between the worlds raising star and the worlds favorite designer was going to bring

hot lap -> youtuber nico rosberg

everyone's favorite f1 inspired, monaco based, youtuber gets a chance to go for a hot lap with his favorite driver

under public eye -> pr manager george russel

after pilling up a long list of scandals, mercedes hires a pr for their star driver and it's the start of something a lot more scandalous

feel the beat -> dj lando norris

y/n is constantly spotted partying, except it's always at the same club. maybe it's got something to do with the dj

spill your guts -> podcast host oscar piastri

after revealing what she listens to in order to wind down, y/n ends up with an invite from the favorite podcast host to appear in the next episode

lights, camera, action -> interviewer franco colapinto

if you asked an F1 fan what their favorite part of the sport was, they'd tell you y/n l/n's interviews but specifically done by fresh meat interviewer franco colapinto. or in which, y/n flirts with franco in interviews and everyone goes crazy, including him.

my honey bee -> bee keeper/gardener sebastian vettel

after the end of the season y/n moves to the countryside to enjoy her winter break and ends up living next to the bee keeping, gardening, small town sweetheart. she can see why everyone adores him.

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f1cflcfic · 4 months ago

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Won't Say I'm in Love (SMAU ft Lando Norris) part i

pairing: lando norris x tennis player!reader (fem!y/n); past carlos alcaraz x tennis player!reader (fem!y/n)

summary: As a general rule, y/n does not date athletes. You've been there, done that - would not recommend. Besides, you definitely don't do love. There's no time in the world for complicated feelings when there's a career Grand Slam to be won. But what if your heart just refuses to listen?

genre: social meda/mixed au, friends to lovers

note: this is RPF and is obviously in no way, shape, or form reflective of real persons

January 2025

[Excerpt post-match interview]

“I’m with Channel 9, Y/N – do you think that it’s fair to say that you were struggling a little bit this match, making more unforced errors than strictly needed?”

“Well, I won in the end, didn’t I?” Y/N answers, not unkindly. “I think that she’s a very strong opponent, so I had to take some more risks, which might result in some mistakes, but it also gave me the points I needed to take two consecutive sets. So no, I wouldn’t say I was struggling.”

“How did you feel going into the tournament here, knowing that there’s also increased rivalry amongst fans of Carlos Alcaraz and yourself? Does that reach you on the court?”

“I think there’s always fan rivalries, and it’s very normal to play some matches where you know you’ve got the public support, and sometimes you won’t. One of the things I like about the Australian Open is that there’s usually a really positive atmosphere in the crowds though.”

“But there’s obviously more eyes on you than on your opponent, doesn’t that have consequences for how you mentally prepare yourself?”

Y/N sighs. “I really thought we’d exhausted these type of questions already. There’s a long season ahead of us, and I’d really like to move on.”

“Hi, I’m here with ESPN. Congrats on the win today, and for getting into the semis. Last year didn’t end on the best note, and your early exit at the US Open cost you a lot of points on the WTA rankings. But you’ve certainly shown here so far that you’re ready to get back to that #1 position. What do you think has changed?”

“I really feel like I’m in a great place, I’m physically and mentally fit and just super focused. Of course I’d like to gain back the #1 position, but it’s honestly not really my main goal. My mentality is that each of these matches is just another regular match, until I’m holding a trophy in my hands.”

"Would you also say it's easier to excel when you're not constantly having to balance a relationship on top of everything else?"

"I think that greatly depends on the other person. But I'd say that the most important relationship for me as a player is with my coach, and I'm really grateful to have had Kim's support over the past year."

"Hi, I'm with Sports Inc., congratulations on your win. We saw you hit the fastest forehand of the tournament so far. Do you ever watch back your own matches to see where you can improve?"

"Thanks so much for the nice question. I don't watch things back, but usually if I or my team feel like there's bits and pieces we want to analyse, we might look for specific footage or film during practice. And what a nice stat, I didn't know, is that across the entire tournament?"

"Fastest average speed amongst all players, fastest forehand amongst WTA players. As you probably well know, Carlos leads the ATP players. Are there other players that you look up to or get inspired by?"

There's a tick in Y/N's jaw, and she whispers something to her publicist before answering the question. "I'm really excited to potentially play Coco if I get through the next match, because we train together quite often and can really push ourselves to play our best, most fun tennis. That'd also be great for the crowd, I hope. Thanks for everyone's time today."

Semi Final Australian Open, 2025

[Excerpt interview with Oscar Piastri]

"What a joy to have another Aussie athlete here in the Rod Laver Arena, enjoying some beautiful tennis today! Is this your first time visiting the Australian Open?"

"It is, actually. Which is funny, because I grew up around here. But it's definitely been amazing to come here and soak up the atmosphere, especially so close to home. So I'm super grateful to Mastercard for the invitation."

"Are there any players in particular that you're rooting for, or hope to see advance into the final?"

"Well, I'm of course rooting for our own, but I have to say that I'm also quite excited to see Y/N L/N take the win."

"She's also good friends with your teammate Lando Norris, isn't she? Had you two met before?"

"Yeah, she's also been to a few of our races. I'm honestly surprised that I got to see her here before Lando did - they're proper mates. And Carlos, too."

"Carlos?"

"Carlos Sainz. Yeah."

"So can fans of Y/N expect to see her at one of your races this year, too? Will she be in Williams or McLaren getup?"

"Gotta be papaya, of course."

Final Australian Open, 2025

Men's Final Australian Open, 2025

A/N: welcome officially to this new universe! I'm hoping to have part ii up next week and keep to a semi-regular weekly schedule.

part ii available now here

taglist (open): @linnygirl09

♥ likes, comments, reblogs are always very much appreciated ♥

#WSIIL SMAU #f1 x reader #formula one x reader #lando norris x reader #lando norris x you #lando norris fanfic #lando norris smau #f1 x y/n #f1 x female reader #ln4 x reader #ln4 imagine #ln4 x y/n #lando norris fic #lando norris imagine #lando norris x fem!reader

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hamilton-here · 21 days ago

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Hey, I love your writing style :)

I would love one, where the reader is his race engineer and he falls for her :)

This would be lovely :)

𝒯𝓇𝒶𝒸𝓀𝓈𝒾𝒹𝑒 𝐻𝑒𝒶𝓉

Authors Note: Hi lovelies! Another one-shot for you to enjoy! Thank you so much for the kind words and support. Praying for Ferrai rn🤞🏻🤞🏻 Lots of love xx

Summary: Lewis joins Ferrari and falls hard for his new race engineer and she takes a little longer.

Warnings: mild swearing

Taglist: @hannibeeblog @nebulastarr @cosmichughes @piston-cup

MASTERLIST

࣪𓏲ᥫ᭡ ₊ ⊹ ˑ ִ ֶ 𓂃࣪𓏲ᥫ᭡ ₊ ⊹ ˑ ִ ֶ 𓂃࣪𓏲ᥫ᭡ ₊ ⊹ ˑ ࣪𓏲ᥫ᭡ ₊ ⊹ ˑ ִ ֶ 𓂃࣪𓏲ᥫ᭡ ₊

You’d only seen Lewis Hamilton in person once before 2025. It was back in 2019 in Bahrain, maybe. You were still one of the background engineers for a midfield team, young and green, glued to a clipboard and desperate not to look too wide-eyed in the paddock. He’d walked past you like a force of nature. Not loud. Not arrogant. Just composed. Radiating this kind of quiet gravity that made everyone stop talking mid-sentence without realising they’d done it.

You remembered thinking: He doesn’t just walk into a room he takes it.

And now, six years later, he was walking toward you.

He was dressed in the iconic Ferrari red brighter, bolder than it looked on camera and somehow, it suited him already. His movements were unhurried, measured. His sunglasses hid his eyes, but you could still feel his attention shift as it landed squarely on you.

Fred stood beside him, arms loosely crossed, looking like the cat who’d swallowed the canary. The team principal had been oddly smug all morning. Now you knew why.

“Lewis,” Fred said, stepping aside with a brief nod, “this is your new lead race engineer. (Y/N) (L/N).”

The moment hung there, suspended in the brief silence before you extended your hand.

You kept your expression even professional and calm though your pulse had quickened. “Welcome to Ferrari.”

His hand met yours, warm and steady, adorned with the usual statement rings sterling silver, some chunky, others sleek. The cool metal pressed against your knuckles, grounding you for a second longer than it should’ve.

“Thanks,” he said. His voice was low and smooth, a little softer than you expected. “Been looking forward to this.”

As he spoke, you noticed the smallest flicker of something beneath the polished exterior a nervous twitch of his thumb against the edge of his silver cross earring. It wasn’t exaggerated, but it was telling. A detail most wouldn’t catch.

But you were trained to read micro-behaviours, even when they didn’t show up in telemetry.

He was nervous.

And somehow, that disarmed you more than anything else could have.

Then he smiled.

It wasn’t the practiced media-smile you’d seen in countless interviews. This one was more instinctive smaller, softer. And right in the centre of it was that charming gap in his front teeth.

You weren’t prepared for the way it struck you. The way it made him look boyish, almost shy. The way it immediately pulled at something warm and unexpected in your chest.

Careful, you warned yourself. Focus.

“Let’s get to work, then,” you said, straightening your posture and nodding toward the garage. “Plenty to recalibrate.”

He gave a quiet chuckle and followed your lead without hesitation, his boots falling into step beside yours.

As you walked, you caught him rubbing a ring between his fingers absently, like a fidget. Another tell.

It surprised you, how quickly the reality of him began to separate from the myth. You’d expected sharp edges, swagger, that unshakable confidence that had carried him through hundreds of races. But what you were seeing what only someone this close would notice was something softer. Quieter.

It wasn’t the world champion walking beside you now. It was just a man. New team. New garage. New systems. And maybe despite everything he’d achieved still wondering if he’d measure up to the expectations.

As you entered the garage together, the hassle of activity wrapped around you as mechanics adjusted wing angles, laptops clicked through data sets, air guns hissed from the far corner.

You guided him toward the engineering bay, glancing sideways at him just once.

“You’ll be testing in the SF-75 development car this week,” you said. “I’ve already adjusted your seat fit to your 2023 specs, but we’ll fine-tune today.”

“Appreciate that,” he said, nodding, eyes scanning the setup.

His gaze settled briefly on you again, then dropped to the tablet in your hand. “You always this prepared?”

You allowed a small smirk. “You’ll find out soon enough.”

Another smile tugged at the corner of his lips, and for a second, he didn’t say anything. He just watched you thumb once again brushing over the silver earring, a subtle, nervous rhythm that gave him away.

Whatever this season had in store, you could already feel it: this wasn’t going to be an ordinary driver-engineer relationship.

And somehow, deep down, you didn’t want it to be.

Fiorano felt different that morning. The sky was a soft, pale blue, painted with streaks of early sunlight, and the cold bit gently at your cheeks as you zipped up your Ferrari team jacket. There was no roar of fans, no broadcasters calling out for soundbites, just the quiet hum of anticipation the kind that settles deep into your bones when you know something new is about to begin.

The tarmac of the private test track still glistened faintly with dew, and the SF-75 development car sat low and waiting like a coiled predator. Sleek. Red. Temperamental.

You watched as Lewis walked across the garage floor in his black fireproofs and new red team gear, the iconic prancing horse stitched over his heart. He looked calm, but his fingers played absently with the string of pearls around his neck as he approached the car. It was a subtle tell, but you’d already noticed he had a few: the way his thumb would trace the edge of his dangling cross earring, the way he’d twist his rings when deep in thought.

He climbed in fluidly, settling into the cockpit like he belonged there. Of course he did. Still, this was new territory for both of you. New machinery. New dynamics. New voices in his ear including yours.

You stood just outside the garage now, headset snug over your ears, watching him through the hum of your own pulse and the early stream of data already dancing across your screen.

He gave a thumbs-up to the crew, and with one smooth, practiced movement, lowered his visor. The car came alive beneath him, its growl low and throaty, vibrating through the floor and into your chest.

You keyed into the radio, your voice calm and crisp. “Radio check, car one. You copy, Lewis?”

A heartbeat of silence. Then—

“Loud and clear. How’s my voice?”

That voice. Smooth. Unrushed. With the slightest undercurrent of amusement like he already knew the effect it had.

You glanced down at your telemetry screen, the flicker of a smile tugging at your lips. “Crystal.”

He rolled slowly down pit lane, the car purring like a restrained animal on a leash. You tracked him through Turn 1, the sensors catching every breath of movement, and kept your eyes trained on the readout's engine temps, tire pressures, throttle application.

But beneath all that data, you were listening. Really listening. To his tone. His pauses. The rhythm of his breathing between corners. It told you just as much as the numbers did.

After Turn 3, his voice came through again. “Brakes feel a little spongy. Not bad, just different.”

“Copy that. They’re still warming. You’ll feel a change in a couple of laps. Focus on pedal modulation for now build the feedback.”

“Copy.”

Another quiet beat.

Then, lower, almost to himself: “Feels a little like taming a new beast.”

Your lips twitched. “It’s not about taming. It’s about syncing.”

That earned a low chuckle in your earpiece, static brushing the sound like wind through feathers.

“You always talk like that over the radio?” he asked. “Sounding all calm and poetic?”

You raised an eyebrow, leaning casually against the pit wall as you tapped your screen. “Only when I’m trying to impress the new guy.”

The words slipped out before you could stop them - light, a touch flirtatious. For a second, you wondered if you’d crossed a line.

But the pause that followed wasn’t awkward. It was... charged.

“Well,” he said finally, voice warm, laced with that familiar sheepishness. “Mission accomplished.”

You bit your lip, the grin threatening to break across your face. Thank God for privacy in the comms channel.

Lap after lap, he pushed harder. You adjusted his settings in real-time with ERS deployment, brake migration, differential tweaks. Every suggestion you gave, he executed cleanly, without hesitation. It was rare, that kind of immediate trust. Most drivers pushed back, tested your reasoning, questioned everything. But not Lewis.

He listened.

Not just because he had to but because he chose to.

By lap 11, his times were already dropping. Nothing radical, not yet. But steady. Controlled. He was learning the car fast.

“Exit of Turn 9’s still costing you a few tenths,” you said, eyes tracking the sector deltas. “Try a wider line. Brake earlier and let the car rotate more freely.”

“Copy that. Wider on entry. Earlier brake.”

He repeated your instructions back with perfect clarity. Then, after a pause:

“You always this good?”

You blinked, surprised by the sudden shift in tone. “Good?”

“At reading the car. And me. You don’t hesitate. Like you already know what I’m gonna do.”

You glanced toward the track, heart skipping a little at the way he said you, like it meant more than it should.

You exhaled slowly, voice softening just a notch. “It’s not about knowing what you’ll do. It’s about listening. And I do.”

He didn’t respond right away.

Then: “Not many people say that to me.”

Your chest tightened just slightly. It wasn’t about pity. It was about the quiet kind of loneliness that echoed behind his words. Fame, legacy, respect all of it, and still not always heard.

You said nothing. Just kept your hand on the tablet and your voice waiting if he needed it.

By the time he rolled into the garage after the run, the sun had climbed higher, cutting a slant of gold across the floor. The car hissed and clicked as it cooled. Mechanics moved in a practiced flurry, adjusting, checking, murmuring.

Lewis climbed out, tugging off his gloves, then unhooked his helmet. His curls were damp, stuck to his forehead. The pearl necklace around his neck glinted as it caught the light. He ran his fingers through his hair once, then instinctively reached up and touched his earring - his tell.

He found you instantly, like a magnet. Walked over, chest rising and falling, still catching his breath.

“How’d it feel?” you asked, already pulling up the run log on your tablet.

He exhaled through a grin. “Like it’s the beginning of something.”

You raised a brow. “The car?”

He hesitated. Then looked at you properly. No helmet. No visor. Just Lewis.

“No,” he said softly. “This.”

You blinked, lips parted as if to respond but nothing came.

Before you could gather a thought, he added, with a self-deprecating laugh, “And I’m not just saying that ‘cause you’re the voice in my head.”

You rolled your eyes, trying to suppress the warmth rising to your cheeks. “Don’t get used to flattery.”

But when you looked up, he was still smiling at you. That same sheepish grin, lips parting just enough to reveal that small, unmistakable gap in his front teeth.

And there it was again his fingers idly twisting one of his silver rings. Nervous. Hopeful. Real.

“I already am,” he murmured, almost like a confession.

And for the first time since the session started, it wasn’t just the car syncing anymore.

It was the two of you. ࣪𓏲ᥫ᭡ ₊ ⊹ ˑ ִ ֶ 𓂃࣪𓏲ᥫ᭡ ₊ ⊹ ˑ ִ ֶ 𓂃࣪𓏲ᥫ᭡ ₊ ⊹ ˑ ࣪𓏲ᥫ᭡ ₊ ⊹ ˑ ִ ֶ 𓂃࣪𓏲ᥫ᭡ ₊

By the third race weekend, it was clear: Lewis Hamilton was different.

It wasn’t just the way he handled the car, though that alone was a masterclass in patience and precision. It wasn’t even the gravity of his seven titles or the way people instinctively shifted when he entered a room, parting like a tide as if some current pulled them to notice. Those things mattered, of course. But they weren’t what struck you, not really.

It was how he moved through this new chapter with his guard lowered just enough to let the right people in. Enough to let you in.

How he listened. How he trusted.

You.

And in Formula 1, where secrets were currency and egos flared hotter than brake discs, that kind of trust was rare. Priceless.

You sat in the garage with your headset on, legs crossed, a tablet resting lightly on your knee as the team ran long-run simulations. Japan’s afternoon sunbathed the Suzuka paddock in liquid gold, filtering through the open garage doors in slants of amber. A crisp breeze curled around your ankles, carrying the mingled scents of rubber, oil, and sakura blossoms from the trees lining the circuit’s outer rim.

On the screen in front of you, Lewis was preparing to start another push lap. The telemetry scrolled in real time based on engine temps steady, tire degradation manageable, ERS fully charged, brake balance nudged a fraction toward the rear.

“Push on the next lap,” you said into the mic, voice calm. “But watch your entry into Turn 6. Wind’s shifted crosswind from the left now.”

There was a beat of static. Then his voice came through, low and grounded, like always. “Copy. Adjusting now.”

And he did. Every time.

Lewis trusted your calls, even the small ones that couldn’t be seen on paper adjustments born from instinct, repetition, the kind of intuitive understanding that only came from seasons of long nights poring over data, chasing tenths in silence while others were asleep. Some drivers questioned you. Some ignored you. A few rolled their eyes, or let the radio fall silent when they didn’t like what they heard.

But not him.

In meetings, he didn’t bulldoze the room. He sat beside you not out front, not taking up unnecessary space, but just close enough that you could feel the quiet thrum of his presence. You’d glance sideways and catch him lounging with effortless poise: long legs stretched out beneath the table, arms folded, fingers toying with the strand of pearls around his neck.

But when you spoke, his attention shifted entirely.

Not to his phone. Not to his notes. Not to the wall of post-session strategy printouts lining the room.

To you.

That week in Japan, something changed. Or maybe it had been changing all along, a slow simmer that finally reached its boiling point.

The tension between you wasn’t dramatic or theatrical. It was quieter than that. Deeper. Like a low frequency only the two of you could hear, humming beneath the surface of every shared glance, every brush of shoulders in narrow hallways, every inside joke whispered under your breath during debriefs.

It built in the gaps. The pauses. The held breaths.

That Friday evening, after FP2, the paddock was winding down. Mechanics stripped the cars for inspection, engineers ducked in and out of the garage with exhausted smiles, and the golden hour wrapped everything in softness.

You were tucked in the engineering room, legs drawn up beneath you on a rolling chair, the glow of your laptop screen illuminating the gentle slope of your face. Telemetry data blinked across your display of sector deltas, throttle traces, tire temperatures. The air was filled with the comforting scent of burnt rubber, espresso, and the faint cologne lingering from drivers who had come and gone.

You didn’t hear the door open.

But you felt him.

“Hey,” Lewis said behind you, voice low and warm, and you didn’t need to turn to know it was him.

He stepped closer. You felt the shift in the air before anything else his heat, his presence. One hand braced lightly on the desk beside your elbow, the other rising to his neck, fingers absently twisting one of his rings. That gesture had become something you recognised. Something he did when he was thinking. Or nervous.

He leaned in, looking over your shoulder. His proximity pulled a subtle current through the room, one that raised goosebumps along your arms despite the temperate air.

“That corner speed - that was better, yeah?” he asked, his voice a whisper against your ear as he pointed to the Turn 13 split.

You tilted your head just slightly, tracking his line on the screen with the tip of your finger. “Better,” you said, drawing out the word. “But not perfect. You turned in half a beat late.”

There was a pause. Long enough for your pulse to quicken.

Then—

He let out a soft, breathy laugh, wide and sheepish, glancing sideways at you from under his lashes. “Was hoping you wouldn’t notice.”

You smiled. Couldn’t help it. “I always notice.”

His gaze lingered on you then, and for a moment, it was as if the room fell away. The sound of the paddock outside grew distant. All you could hear was the tick of your own heartbeat and the soft, nervous breath he exhaled.

You caught it then, barely there but unmistakable.

The pink tint brushing the tops of his ears. Creeping toward his cheeks.

A blush.

Lewis Hamilton, blushing.

He looked away quickly, clearing his throat, fingers resuming their nervous twist around his ring. Again. And again. Like he didn’t know what else to do with his hands.

“You’re ruthless,” he said with a crooked smile, trying to play it off. “You know that?”

You arched a brow, playful. “It’s my job.”

He studied you for a second longer, something unreadable flickering behind his eyes. Then, softer now, almost like it wasn’t meant to be heard:

“Yeah, well. You’re really, really good at it.”

You blinked. Something in your chest tightened not from nerves, but from the warmth in his voice. The way he said it like a truth he’d been holding onto for a while.

And then, without thinking, you responded. “Thanks, Lew.”

The nickname fell out like a slip of the tongue. Easy. Natural. Like you’d said it a hundred times before.

But you hadn’t.

You froze.

So did he.

His eyes snapped to yours, searching your face, as if needing to confirm what he’d just heard. Then his smile faltered not in a bad way. Just softened. Surprised. Like something in him wasn’t quite sure what to do with the feeling it stirred.

“Lew, huh?” he repeated, voice low.

You swallowed. “Sorry. That just…slipped out.”

He shook his head slowly. The corner of his mouth tugged up again, but this time it wasn’t his usual smile. It was something smaller. Quieter. Earnest.

“It’s nice,” he said after a moment. “Haven’t heard that in a while.”

Silence stretched between you, not awkward. Just full.

Full of all the things you hadn’t said. All the tension you’d been dancing around since Bahrain.

You turned your attention back to the laptop, needing something to ground yourself. “Well. Lew,” you repeated deliberately, nudging your elbow lightly into his, “your turn-in timing at 130R still needs work.”

He laughed, sharp and bright, his whole body relaxing beside you. The tension cracked like sunlight through storm clouds.

“See?” he grinned. “Ruthless.”

But when his eyes met yours again, the laughter dimmed into something more intimate. Not gone just soothed. Like the sound had settled into the quiet space between you and left something tender behind.

And that tension of the quiet, slow-building kind was no longer just beneath the surface.

It had taken root.

And in just a few hours, you’d help him channel it into something more than heat. You’d help him win.

And neither of you were ready to name it. Not yet. Maybe not even out loud. But it was there, growing quietly in the background of everything you did an invisible thread that tugged tighter with every exchanged glance, every mic check, every breathless second in the engineering room when his fingers brushed too close to yours.

It showed up in the smallest ways.

In the lingering moments between strategy debriefs, when Lewis stayed after the rest of the team had cleared out, leaning against the doorframe like he had all the time in the world. In the way his voice softened ever so slightly when he said your name like it meant something more than just a label. In the half-smiles he gave you when you passed each other in the paddock, when no one else was looking.

By the time Saturday rolled around, that tension had begun to settle into something familiar. Palpable.

Sprint day.

The Suzuka Circuit shimmered in the morning light, the early sunbathing the track in gold and casting long shadows behind the garages. The air was sharp and crisp enough to sting your nose, clean in that rare way only Japan could offer. Wind tugged at the edges of your team jacket as you walked through the paddock, its sudden gusts rattling the banners above the garages and flapping sponsor flags in bursts of colour.

In the garage, it was business as usual on the surface.

The team hustled through final prep, energy drink cans stacked half-finished beside laptops, the constant hum of tire blankets and the low whir of cooling systems filling the background. Mechanics moved with clinical efficiency, murmuring to each other beneath the sound of engines idling.

But you weren’t watching them. You were watching him.

Lewis sat in the car already, helmet on, gloves flexing slightly as he adjusted the wheel. Through the visor, you could see the faint glint of his eyes - focused, calm, but every so often they flicked to the side, to where you stood with your headset slung around your neck and your tablet hugged to your chest.

Your breath caught when his gaze locked with yours. Just a second. But it was enough.

You turned quickly to the telemetry screen, trying to shake it off. Focus.

“Everyone’s scrubbing mediums,” one of the engineers beside you noted, tapping a rhythm against his clipboard. “But degradation’s going to hit heavy mid-stint. He’ll lose pace halfway through.”

You were already ahead of him, fingers flying over the touchscreen as you overlaid track temp data with tire simulations. The numbers didn’t lie. Everyone was playing it safe. But safe wouldn’t win today.

“Not if he lifts through Spoon and saves tire life in Sector 2,” you murmured, eyes narrowing. “Then pushes on the straights. We’ll tell him to go long.”

You reached for the comm switch, thumb brushing it slowly. “Lewis,” you said, voice even, “adjust your plan lift slightly through Spoon, conserve rear tire temp in Sector 2. Then attack on the back straight. We go long on this first stint. Trust me.”

There was a heartbeat of silence. Maybe two.

Then his voice crackled through, steady and low. “Copy. I trust you.”

That pause you felt it. Heard what was unsaid.

He meant it. Not just in a technical sense. He trusted you.

The lights went out cleanly at the start.

Lewis had a flawless launch, slotting into P2 by Turn 1. The driver ahead aggressive, burning rubber like it was free went full send from the first lap, gapping by a few tenths. But you knew. It wouldn’t last.

Because Lewis was patient.

You could see it unfolding like you’d written it yourself. Lap by lap, your calls weaving into his rhythm: lift 2%, deploy energy earlier in Sector 3, adjust brake migration into Turn 11 with the crosswind each adjustment precise, each decision measured. And every time, Lewis followed your voice like it was instinct.

And maybe, by now, it was.

By lap 10, he was still behind, but the gap was shrinking. The car ahead had started to slide by its rear grip fading, tire degradation setting in. But Lewis?

Lewis was flying.

Lap 13. You barely blinked.

He hooked into the draft on the back straight, pulled out at the last moment with millimetre precision. The car ahead twitched. Lewis didn’t. He braked late - so late that he threaded the needle into 130R like the laws of physics didn’t apply, and made it stick.

Your heart slammed into your ribs as the garage exploded with cheers around you. But you didn’t join in. Not yet.

You were still watching. Still tracking.

And when he crossed the line six laps later P1 the noise was deafening. The pit wall staff high-fived, engineers hugged, one of the mechanics shouted so loud it startled a passing camera crew.

You didn’t move.

You stared at the screen, heart pounding, headset still on, mic open. And without even realising it, you breathed—

“Perfectly done, Lewis.”

You weren’t sure he heard it. Not until a pause filled your ears, and then—

“Couldn’t have done it without you.”

Your breath hitched.

It wasn’t just what he said, it was how he said it. Quiet. Honest. Like a secret just for you.

The line clicked off, and yet you stood there, unmoving, the echo of his voice replaying over and over in your mind. Your name lingered in the silence like a fingerprint on glass. Warm. Intimate.

And when Lewis returned to the garage helmet off, curls damp against his forehead, race suit unzipped slightly at the collar he didn’t soak in the applause. He didn’t mug for the cameras.

He looked for you.

Eyes sweeping past the team, the monitors, the open pit lane beyond until they found you. Standing just behind the monitors, hands still clenched around your tablet like it was the only thing anchoring you to the earth.

He walked over, slow but certain, until he was standing right in front of you. The noise of the garage seemed to fade again, the buzz of the world fading out like someone had hit mute.

He leaned in.

A little too close again.

Close enough that you could feel the heat of his skin, the faint scent of sweat and engine grease and something unmistakably him.

He grinned, and when he spoke, it was only for you.

“Told you,” He said, his voice soft, rough with adrenaline. “I trust you.”

You swallowed, your throat dry.

You didn’t mean to smile but you did. Small. Unstoppable. “Good,” you managed, pulse hammering behind your ribs. “Because I’m not planning on being wrong anytime soon.”

His laugh was low, quiet, filled with something warmer than victory. He looked at you, and you saw it again that nervous little tell. His fingers twisting his ring, turning it slowly between his thumb and middle finger.

That quiet frequency between you?

It wasn’t quiet anymore.

It was humming loud and clear, stitched into every word, every breath, every glance.

And somehow, it felt like the season had just started. ࣪𓏲ᥫ᭡ ₊ ⊹ ˑ ִ ֶ 𓂃࣪𓏲ᥫ᭡ ₊ ⊹ ˑ ִ ֶ 𓂃࣪𓏲ᥫ᭡ ₊ ⊹ ˑ ࣪𓏲ᥫ᭡ ₊ ⊹ ˑ ִ ֶ 𓂃࣪𓏲ᥫ᭡ ₊

It started in little moments.

The kind you could pretend weren’t anything until they started to add up.

He’d linger after practice runs. Wait just a beat longer before removing his helmet, sweat still beading at his temples, curls damp beneath the padding. You’d be checking sector times or squinting at the track surface on the screens, but you’d feel it. That quiet pull. You’d glance up and there he’d be, watching you from across the garage with that unreadable look in his eyes.

And every time, right before you had the chance to say something, he’d smile.

Not the media smile. Not the carefully measured, camera-ready grin that made headlines.

But the real one.

The soft one, slightly crooked. The one with the gap.

You heard your name differently now. Over the radio. In debriefs. Even when he passed by in the hospitality tent, coffee in one hand, helmet bag in the other. He’d say it quieter, lower. Like it was something private. Like it didn’t belong to the rest of the world.

And then there was the teasing - subtle, thoughtful, never crossing the line.

You’d be scanning FP1 tire wear data, and he’d sidle up beside you, pointing at the overlay.

“You just like when I lift through Turn 5 because it proves you’re smarter than me.”

You’d glance sideways, hiding a smirk. “You need me to be smarter than you. Otherwise, who’s going to keep you in one piece?”

Or before qualifying, when the tension climbed so high the air felt like it could snap:

“You’ve got this one, Lewis. Stay focused,” you’d tell him, voice low in his ear as he sat in the cockpit, visor still up.

And without fail, he’d glance at you with that familiar softness. “Only ’cause you told me to.”

Then he’d drop his gaze, grin sheepishly, and fidget fingers grazing his earring or tugging the edge of his necklace like a nervous tick. It made him look younger. Softer. Like there was still something untouched beneath the years of podiums and pressure.

You tried not to find it endearing. But you did.

Barcelona arrived with heat and headwinds. The paddock baked under the afternoon sun, the scent of rubber and burnt brake dust lingering in the air like a warning.

FP1 had gone surprisingly well. P3. Solid pace. Strong sector 2.

You watched from the back of the garage, arms folded, headset snug, calling tiny adjustments through the session. You caught Lewis’s eyes in the mirror as he rolled back into the box his expression beneath the helmet was calm but pleased, and when he climbed out, he walked straight to you.

“Balance still isn’t perfect,” he murmured, towelling sweat from the back of his neck. “But that setup change we tried? You were right.”

You raised an eyebrow. “Of course I was.”

He laughed, shaking his head. “Dangerous confidence.”

“You like it.”

He didn’t respond just gave you a glance. One that said too much.

FP2 didn’t go quite as cleanly. Wind shifts played havoc in Sector 1, and timing didn’t line up with traffic. P11. The media would spin it. You already knew.

But he didn’t seem rattled.

After the session, you found him on the folding couch in the engineers’ room, scrolling slowly through corner entry overlays. You slid into the seat beside him, setting a fresh bottle of water next to his elbow.

“You’re overthinking Turn 3,” you said gently. “It’s not the car. You’re just overcompensating for the wind.”

He sighed, leaned back, ran a hand over his face. “Feels off.”

“Because you’re pushing too hard to make it right.” You paused. “Trust your flow. Tomorrow’s a reset.”

He glanced at you, eyes tired but steady. “You always know what to say.”

You gave him a small shrug. “I read telemetry like poetry. Doesn’t mean I’m right.”

But he looked at you like you were right. Like he believed you more than he believed the data. And it shook you more than it should have.

That night ran long. Debriefs dragged. Engineers debated strategy well past dinner. You stayed, laptop open, headphones around your neck, eyes glazed over as you adjusted energy deployment graphs on your screen.

At some point, you noticed he was still there too leaning against the table, hoodie sleeves pushed up, watching you more than his data.

You handed him a protein bar without looking up. “You’ll make improvements tomorrow,” you said. “You always do.”

There was a pause.

Then, quietly: “You really think so?”

You finally glanced up. He was turning the bar slowly in his hand like it meant something. Like it was more than just calories. The overhead lights caught on the silver of his necklace.

“I’ve seen the numbers,” you said simply.

He bit his lip. That same slow smile curved up again, crooked and real.

“Then I will.”

FP3 came and went P9. Better, but still not where he wanted. Still not where you knew he could be.

And qualifying? It was a fight.

Every sector counted. He wrung everything out of that car like it owed him something. And when he crossed the line for his final Q3 lap and landed P5, you exhaled for the first time in minutes.

It wasn’t pole. But it was earned. Gritty. Strategic.

And when he pulled into the garage, climbed out, and peeled off his gloves, you were already there headset off, tablet in hand.

He reached for his water bottle, but didn’t drink. Instead, he tilted his head toward you.

“You smiling because I proved you right again?” he asked, voice low.

You gave him a look. “You’re catching on.”

He smirked, took a long sip, then leaned in just a little, like the noise of the garage couldn’t touch the space between you.

“Race tomorrow,” he murmured, eyes on yours. “I want you on comms again.”

Your breath caught.

“You know I will be.”

He nodded, like that settled it. Like your voice in his ear was the only one that mattered.

And as he turned to debrief with the team, he brushed past you just close enough that your sleeve caught on his. The smallest touch.

But you felt it for minutes after.

Another sign.

And you were starting to see all of them. ࣪𓏲ᥫ᭡ ₊ ⊹ ˑ ִ ֶ 𓂃࣪𓏲ᥫ᭡ ₊ ⊹ ˑ ִ ֶ 𓂃࣪𓏲ᥫ᭡ ₊ ⊹ ˑ ࣪𓏲ᥫ᭡ ₊ ⊹ ˑ ִ ֶ 𓂃࣪𓏲ᥫ᭡ ₊

The Canadian Grand Prix was chaos.

The good kind - the electric, heart-rattling, over caffeinated kind that made your blood feel like it pulsed with engine oil.

Montreal had always been one of those circuits. The kind that didn’t just test the car but tested the nerves. Tight corners. Unpredictable weather. A track that punished the smallest mistakes and rewarded pure instinct. The fans were relentless in the best way. Drenched in red, waving flags, drumming on barriers until it echoed through the paddock like a heartbeat.

From the moment your plane touched down, everything moved at double speed. You’d barely set foot in the team hotel before your phone was ringing for briefings, simulation tweaks, new aero projections. Lewis had barely gotten through media day without someone asking about his form, about Ferrari, about whether this would be the weekend everything clicked.

By the time qualifying rolled around, the air itself felt tight.

And then P2. A tenth off pole.

The garage erupted. But you didn’t. You were too deep in it, tabs open on your tablet, headset still on, heart thudding because of everything yet to come. There was always more.

Still, somehow through the flurry of data and diagrams and DRS deltas he always managed to find you.

A glance over the crowd of engineers during briefings. A low, offhand comment in your ear, only meant for you something that made your lips twitch before you remembered where you were. A touch on your back that lingered longer than necessary when you leaned too close to the telemetry monitor.

You told yourself not to read into it. That it was just part of the unspoken rhythm the two of you had developed this season. Teammates, collaborators. Partners, in the purest, most professional sense.

But by race day?

You weren’t so sure anymore.

The race was a blur.

There were moments of near disaster spitting rain around lap 17 that caught half the grid off-guard. A lockup in Sector 2 that made your stomach drop. A strategic misfire by McLaren that almost backed him into dirty air. But Lewis?

Lewis danced through it.

Clean. Controlled. Relentless.

You saw him on the screens, the way he handled the car like it was an extension of himself. And even with all that going on when he clicked the radio to speak it was your name he asked for.

“Where is she?”

“Tell her I felt the bite in the rears again.”

“Let her know I’m trying the lift she suggested into 6.”

Over radio, your voice cuts through static - calm but charged, firm with just a hint of something deeper:

“Lewis...it’s me. It’s Hammertime.”

The words hit him like a jolt through the cockpit - "Lewis...It's me. It's Hammertime." His breath stalled for just a fraction of a second, heart thudding louder than the engine for once. That voice - your voice saying those words. Not Bono. Not Mercedes. You. His engineer, his person. A slow, stunned smile pulled at the corner of his mouth beneath the visor. His grip on the wheel tightened, not from nerves, but from something rawer, deeper. He didn’t need to answer right away. He just exhaled, focused in, and pushed harder into the corner, fuelled by something more than strategy something personal. Finally, low and steady, came his response: "Copy. Let’s fucking go."

Like your presence, your guidance, was the edge he needed. And when he crossed the finish line in P3, it felt earned. A fight. A win without being first.

The garage exploded around you claps on the back, champagne half-sprayed before the bottles were even opened.

But Lewis?

He didn’t celebrate.

Not yet.

While the team moved like a hive, shouting, cheering, replaying the final lap, he stepped out of the car and pulled off his helmet. Slow. Deliberate.

His curls stuck to his forehead, damp with sweat. His pearl necklace shimmered under the fluorescents. The red of his race suit was half-zipped, sleeves tied around his waist.

And then he walked straight through the crowd.

Past the cameras, past the reporters, past Fred Vasseur who was already preparing for a post-race interview. Past everyone.

Until he was standing right in front of you.

Your heart skipped. But your face stayed neutral, barely lifting from the tablet still in your hands.

“Nice work out there,” you said smoothly, fighting the heat climbing up your neck.

He tilted his head, giving you that lazy, crooked smile that always knocked the breath out of your lungs just a little. “I only clipped the apex at Turn 9 'cause I remembered what you said. Mid-session. You told me not to force the rotation.”

You looked up at him now, finally meeting his eyes.

“I did.”

He stepped closer only half a pace, but enough. Enough to feel the space between you tighten like a thread being pulled.

His voice dipped lower, almost a whisper. Not dramatic, just quiet. Meant for you and no one else.

“You’re the only voice I hear in that car, you know?”

The line landed heavy. Not flirtation. Not hyperbole.

Just truth.

You blinked. Your fingers curled tighter around your tablet, knuckles white.

He rubbed the back of his neck, the way he always did when something mattered more than he wanted to admit. His fingers grazed the chain at his collarbone, then shifted to the small hoop in his ear. His tell. You’d seen it enough times now to know this was him nervous.

Lewis Hamilton, nervous.

“I really like working with you,” he said, his gaze searching yours. “Maybe too much.”

There was no smirk. No ego.

Just the man behind the name.

Your chest ached. Because part of you wanted to let the moment fall. To lean in. To say something bold and reckless. But you couldn’t not yet. Not with everything still at stake.

“You’re not making this easy on me, Hamilton,” you murmured.

He laughed quietly, looking down at the floor between you before glancing up again cheeks faintly pink, that gap-toothed grin peeking through like a boy caught out in something sweet.

“I’m not trying to,” he admitted. “I just want to know if it’s more than working with you. Because for me?”

He hesitated.

“It already is.”

That thread between you pulled tight. The moment held.

You stepped forward. Just slightly. Just enough that your voice didn’t have to carry.

“Ask me again,” you said softly, “when the season ends.”

His smile widened. Slow. Glowing. Like you’d handed him something precious and breakable and he knew how to hold it.

“I will,” he said, and you believed him.

After that, everything changed.

Quietly.

He lingered after meetings. Waited for you when you didn’t ask him to. He started showing up with coffee in the mornings your order, always right. You teased him once, asked if his assistant told him. He just smiled and said he paid attention.

He did. More than anyone ever had.

You caught him watching you sometimes eyes tracking you across the garage, expression unreadable but soft. He didn’t look away when you caught him.

And on race weekends, when his voice came through your headset, it was calmer. Steadier. Not because the car was perfect but because he trusted you to help fix it.

You were his constant. His anchor.

He was falling.

And you?

You were fighting it.

Trying to hold your ground, tell yourself it was professional. Necessary. Safer.

But the way he looked at you after podiums like the roar of the crowd was just white noise and you were the thing that made it worth it?

The way he held the door open for you after press events, hand on your lower back like a silent reassurance.

The way your name sounded from his lips, spoken like something he never wanted to give back?

You were starting to fall.

Not all at once.

But slowly.

Irrevocably.

And somewhere, deep down you already knew. ࣪𓏲ᥫ᭡ ₊ ⊹ ˑ ִ ֶ 𓂃࣪𓏲ᥫ᭡ ₊ ⊹ ˑ ִ ֶ 𓂃࣪𓏲ᥫ᭡ ₊ ⊹ ˑ ࣪𓏲ᥫ᭡ ₊ ⊹ ˑ ִ ֶ 𓂃࣪𓏲ᥫ᭡ ₊

He didn’t push. Didn’t bring it up again. Not directly.

But the way he moved around you, looked at you lived in a different register now. Lower. Closer. Warmer. Like someone tuning into a frequency only the two of you could hear.

And you felt it.

It started small. Lingering after meetings, letting his fingers skim the edge of your notes when he reached across the table for his bottle. Waiting until the last PowerPoint click faded and everyone else had filed out before saying something only meant for you.

Sometimes it was technical. Setups. Ride height. Rear traction.

But more and more, it wasn’t.

“Did you sleep at all last night?” he asked once, walking beside you down the paddock corridor, his hand brushing yours not quite holding, not quite accidental. “You looked like you were running simulations in your dreams.”

You rolled your eyes. “That’s because I was. Fred sprung that floor stiffness data on us at eleven p.m.”

He glanced over, smiling. “Still. You’ve got that look. The one where your brain’s moving faster than your body.”

You arched an eyebrow. “Oh? And you know my looks now?”

Lewis grinned, all teeth. “Don’t need to. I read you like telemetry.”

And then there were the other comments. The ones that didn’t pretend to be professional.

“Don’t think I didn’t notice you changed your hair.” His voice low, quiet, like the words weren’t meant to travel far. “Suits you. You look sharp.”

You hadn’t thought anyone noticed. Hell, you barely noticed. Just a slight shift in how you wore it, pulled back tighter, a few curls let free around your temples.

But he noticed.

Of course he did.

He wasn’t nervous anymore. Not like before. There was still a softness to him, but it had shifted become something steadier. Sure-footed. A kind of patience that didn’t feel passive. It felt like a man who knew what he wanted, and knew you did too, even if neither of you said it yet.

He started bringing you coffee in the mornings your usual. Always right. Not just the drink, but the temperature, the amount of milk, the tiny note sometimes scrawled on the side of the cup in barely legible Sharpie.

“High grip day. You’ve got this.”

“Easy on me in the debrief, yeah?”

“Your coffee’s strong today. You might be dangerous.”

You never asked for it. Never gave him your order.

When you finally raised an eyebrow and said, “Guessing you’ve got a mole in catering,” he just smiled, slow and amused.

“I pay attention,” he said, as if that explained everything.

And maybe it did.

Because he did pay attention in ways that felt impossible to ignore.

You’d be in the middle of a debrief, rattling off numbers and scenarios, pacing the garage floor in that tunnel-visioned headspace, when you’d suddenly feel it his eyes on you.

Not in the way men look at women.

In the way people look at something they’re not ready to touch, but already treasure.

Like you were the only still point in a spinning room.

He started sitting next to you more often during strategy meetings. Not across from you next to you. Always. Close enough that your elbows brushed when he shifted his arm, close enough that your knees touched when space got tight. Close enough that his cologne the warm spice and something citrusy beneath it lingered long after he was gone.

And when he leaned in to point something out on your screen? You could feel the breath of him on your jaw. He never said anything in those moments. Just hovered there close enough to make you forget the metric on your screen.

There were jokes, too. Teasing, smarter now. Sharper. Laced with a kind of warm mischief that felt more like memory than fantasy. Like he was building a shared language, one quip at a time.

“You coming to the driver briefing, or just here to keep me humble?” he asked one afternoon, voice low enough that no one else caught it.

“Depends,” you said, barely glancing up from your screen. “Do you need humbling?”

“From you?” he said, his voice dropping just slightly. “Always.”

Or another time - rain delay at the Austrian Grand Prix, both of you standing under the edge of the awning, watching the weather turn the track into a river.

“Bet you hate this,” he said, watching your fingers twitch with unused energy.

“I hate waiting,” you admitted.

He glanced sideways, eyes shining. “Same. But some things are worth the wait.”

You looked up. Your breath caught in your throat.

He didn’t look away.

Didn’t smile either.

Just held your gaze with a softness so sincere it cracked something open in your chest.

The line between professional and personal didn’t blur.

It shifted.

Quietly. Inevitably.

Because how could it not, when someone made you feel so completely seen?

He remembered the small things. Your go-to stress snack. That you hated flying through turbulence. That you preferred briefing notes in landscape mode because you thought it looked “less hostile.” He remembered your mother’s name after you mentioned her once in passing. He knew you bit your lip when you were trying not to say something you wanted to say.

He noticed everything.

And you?

You were still trying not to fall.

But every time he touched the small of your back after a press event just a light, guiding pressure, like you were gravity itself.

Every time he turned his head to laugh at something only you had said, the way his eyes lit up like you were the punchline and the reason both.

Every time he leaned close and murmured something into your headset in the middle of chaos, a secret in a storm.

You felt it.

You were falling. And there was no pretending you weren’t already halfway gone

You barely had time to register what was happening before you saw him helmet under his arm, fire suit unzipped to his waist, gloves forgotten somewhere on the tarmac and sweat glistening on his skin. He was all adrenaline and velocity, and he was sprinting.

Not jogging. Not striding coolly.

Running.

Straight toward you.

The paddock blurred around him engineers, photographers, crew members, all turning in confusion, in awe, some cheering, some just stunned but you didn’t see any of them.

You only saw him.

He closed the distance like he couldn’t bear one more second apart. Like the win, the glory, the cameras, the champagne none of it mattered unless you were in it, with him.

Your breath caught in your chest as he skidded to a stop just in front of you, his chest rising and falling like the ocean in a storm. His eyes locked on yours, wide and glassy, full of so much relief, and want, and something deeper that had been burning there for longer than either of you had been willing to name.

You felt every molecule in your body tilt toward him, drawn by something magnetic and irreversible.

He didn’t speak right away.

Just stood there, breathless, face flushed, hands twitching like he didn’t know where to put them.

And then, voice low and raw and edged with disbelief, he said:

“Still want me to ask?”

Your heart stuttered.

That damn question again. The one he’d been teasing you with since Bahrain, half a season ago, before the glances started lingering too long, before you memorised the sound of his voice in your headset better than your own name.

But this time there was no smile on his lips. No smirk.

Just earnestness. Just him.

And something inside you cracked open completely.

You looked up at him, throat tight, breath short, and answered the only way that felt right.

“No,” you whispered. “I want you to kiss me instead.”

Time folded in on itself.

He froze for a heartbeat. One long, suspended breath. His eyes searched your face like he needed to be sure - really sure that you meant it. That this wasn’t a dream or a moment he’d wake from in the quiet of his hotel room later, alone again.

And then?

He moved.

One hand lifted, tentative at first, brushing your cheek with the backs of his fingers like he was afraid you might disappear. The other slid behind your neck, calloused palm curling gently against your skin, grounding himself in your warmth.

And then his mouth was on yours.

Hot.

Certain.

Aching.

It wasn’t smooth or careful it wasn’t practiced. It was all rushing emotion, months of tension snapping at the seams, the weight of everything left unsaid spilling out between your lips.

You gasped softly into him, and he swallowed the sound, deepening the kiss like he was making up for every night he’d stopped himself. Every time he’d walked away when he wanted to stay. Every time your fingers had brushed in passing and he hadn’t held on.

The noise of the paddock disappeared completely. You didn’t hear the shouts, the clapping, the distant hum of machinery cooling. You didn’t even hear your own thoughts.

Just the frantic beat of your heart, matching his.

Just the sound of his breath catching when your hands slid around his waist and pulled him closer.

Just the press of his lips against yours, over and over, like he couldn’t get enough.

Like he wasn’t going to let you go this time.

When he finally pulled back reluctant, eyes still closed, nose brushing yours and his hands stayed where they were. One thumb stroked your jaw, reverent. His other hand slipped lower, pressing gently to your back like he needed to keep you right there.

He rested his forehead against yours, still catching his breath.

“God,” he murmured, voice cracking, “I should’ve done that months ago.”

You smiled, barely able to speak past the tangle of emotion in your throat. You curled your fingers into the soft fabric at his waist and let out a shaky laugh.

“Yeah,” you whispered. “But this was pretty damn good timing.”

He laughed too low and breathless and utterly unguarded and then he kissed you again. Slower this time. Like he had all the time in the world now. Like he’d waited this long and now that he had you, he wasn’t in any rush.

You melted into it, into him. Letting your eyes fall shut. Letting the taste of champagne and adrenaline and something achingly familiar wash over you.

This wasn’t a celebration.

It was a homecoming.

When he pulled back again, he looked at you like you were the only thing that mattered. Like the win had only meant something because you were there to see it.

“I’m not letting this go,” he said, quiet but fierce.

“I know,” you replied, just as fierce.

And you didn’t.

Neither of you did.

Because after everything after the long flights and the late nights and the held breath and the possibilities you had finally found something worth holding onto.

Each other.

At last.

࣪𓏲ᥫ᭡ ₊ ⊹ ˑ ִ ֶ 𓂃࣪𓏲ᥫ᭡ ₊ ⊹ ˑ ִ ֶ 𓂃࣪𓏲ᥫ᭡ ₊ ⊹ ˑ ࣪𓏲ᥫ᭡ ₊ ⊹ ˑ ִ ֶ 𓂃࣪𓏲ᥫ᭡ ₊

2026

The engine went quiet behind you cutting out mid-growl like the final exhale of a beast that had just given everything.

The garage moved instantly.

A flurry of motion swept around you technicians gliding into place, mechanics moving like clockwork, their every step practiced and purposeful. Tyres hissed against the floor as trolleys were rolled into place. Radios crackled. Data streamed in real time across the cluster of monitors, illuminating with new lap times, temperature fluctuations, brake wear, delta changes each number a language only a few of you could read fluently.

You didn’t flinch. You barely blinked.

“He’s in,” you said, voice low but firm through the headset as your eyes tracked a series of numbers on your screen. “Rear right was dragging a touch looks like a balance shift coming out of seven. We’ll check the damper setting again, maybe soften it a click. Front grip’s holding. Rear temps are better than expected that’s a win.”

You were mid-sentence, finger dragging across the touchscreen to isolate throttle traces, when you felt it.

Him.

Lewis.

His presence, immediate and unmistakable, flooded behind you like a returning tide. You didn’t need to look. The heat came first - body-warm and electric even through the thick layers of your team jacket as his frame closed in behind you.

His arms wrapped around your waist in one smooth, unhurried motion. No fanfare. No warning. Just instinct. Like his body knew yours better than the rest of the world.

He pressed himself close chest flush to your back, the weight of him settling in like it was the most natural thing in the world. He smelled like sweat and race fuel and fabric-softened Nomex. His gloves were gone. His race suit peeled down to his hips, the fireproof undershirt damp and clinging to the shape of his torso as he exhaled still catching his breath from the stint.

His chin found its usual place on your shoulder, right against the curve of your neck. A quiet place. A place that was just his.

And he didn’t move.

Not for several long seconds.

He just stood there anchored to you while the rest of the garage spun at full speed around you both. Radios pinged. Air compressors whined. Engineers rushed past. But Lewis Hamilton stood completely still, wrapped around you like the chaos couldn’t touch either of you as long as you stayed in this little space, together.

“You didn’t go to debrief,” you murmured, eyes still glued to the data, fingers adjusting overlay views and predictive modelling without missing a beat.

“I will,” he said softly, voice rasped and low. “Just needed you first.”

You exhaled, a long breath through your nose, lips twitching despite yourself.

“You always need me when I’m trying to concentrate,” you replied under your breath, the edge of a smile creeping in.

“You say that like it’s a problem,” he said, not even pretending to look at the monitors.

You shifted slightly in the chair, expecting him to back off.

He didn’t.

If anything, his grip tightened slightly palms flat over your stomach, thumbs brushing slow, lazy arcs just beneath your ribs. Like he needed the tactile proof that you were still here. Still his. Still real.

“Okay,” you said finally, slipping back into work mode. “Last run entry into turn five looked cleaner. That adjustment on the diff’s giving you more predictability mid-corner. But you’re still a fraction late on throttle pickup.”

He didn’t respond. Not really.

Just a hum. Low and soft.

You paused. “Lewis…”

“I’m listening,” he said, a blatant lie. His voice warm and teasing, and far too focused on the line of your jaw to be anywhere near the data.

You could feel his eyes burning a path up your neck, across your cheekbone. You could feel the smile forming on his lips before he even said it.

“You’re saying I’m perfect,” he whispered, “but I should try harder next time.”

You didn’t laugh, but your smile pulled wider as you tapped your screen, cycling telemetry. “That’s not remotely what I said.”

“Close enough,” he murmured, nose brushing the side of your neck now. Slow. Soft. Just enough to send a jolt of awareness zipping down your spine.

You stiffened slightly, caught off-guard by how gently he did it like a habit. Like something he did when no one was watching.

“Lewis,” you said, glancing quickly over your shoulder. “There are at least eight cameras pointed in this direction.”

“No one’s watching,” he murmured into your skin, clearly unbothered. His mouth hovered at your jaw, breath warm, lips parted.

Then swift as a heartbeat he pressed a soft nip just beneath your jawline.

Not hard. Not showy.

Just enough to steal your next breath.

“Hey,” you whispered, voice spiking into something breathier than you intended. “What are you doing?”

“Just checking where you keep all your race notes,” he said with a grin you could feel, not see. “Pretty sure it’s right here.”

Another kiss. Slower this time. Just behind your ear.

You turned your head slightly toward him half a warning, half a surrender. “You’re supposed to be processing corner entries and throttle traces. Not…getting me fired.”

“You won’t get fired,” he said easily. “They all like you too much.”

His lips curved into a smile against your neck.

“And if they try, I’ll just force the team to hire you all over again. Personal engineer-slash-girlfriend-slash-everything.”

“Very professional,” you muttered, biting back a smile.

“Super professional,” he agreed, with zero shame.

And then, without warning, he leaned in again this time slower, more deliberate. He nipped at your neck once more, right at the edge of where your collar met your skin. Just light enough to pass unnoticed. But not by you. Never by you.

Your pulse jumped. Your fingers faltered on the screen.

You inhaled slowly, grounding yourself, and then pointed to the telemetry. “Alright, Romeo. Look here your line into turn ten. Still a bit wide on entry.”

He actually looked this time.

Briefly.

“Fine,” he sighed dramatically, resting his chin on your shoulder again. “But only because you’re the one telling me.”

You shook your head, lips curving. “You’re impossible.”

“And you love it,” he said, soft and certain.

You didn’t answer.

Not with words.

Just leaned back into him slightly enough for him to know that yes, you did. Every impossible, frustrating, heart-melting inch of him.

The garage noise pressed in again. Tools clanked. Radios chirped. A tire gun fired off somewhere near the pit lane entrance.

But none of it touched you.

Not here.

Not in this moment.

There was only the rhythmic hum of data on your screen, the thrum of blood in your veins, and the quiet, steady heartbeat of Lewis Hamilton behind you pressed close, breathing against your skin, holding you like nothing else in the world mattered except this.

You didn't need to look at him to know what he felt.

He was home.

And so were you.

#lewis hamilton #lh44 #lewis hamilton x reader #f1 x reader #lewis hamilton imagine #lh44 x reader #x reader #f1 imagine #lewis hamilton x you #lh44 imagine #lewis hamilton one shot #team lh44 #f1 one shot #f1 fic #f1 fanfic #f1

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lostpiewrites · 2 months ago

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Hello!! Can I request a reader to unexpectedly kiss their partner (Michael, Rin, Reo and Sae) I mean they are doing anything and the reader feels they have to kiss them.

Thank you🫶

a/n : HIIIIIIIIII. this is so me coded , i loved this request. Here we goo... art credits for @/korethus.

NOTICEBOARD : Due to my exams , i will unfortunately not be able to post until 10th May 2025. After i come back , i will work on the remaining requests. Thank u for understanding. 🩷🩵

A BIIIGGG SMOOCH 💋

Ft : Michael Kaiser , Itoshi Rin , Itoshi Sae , Mikage Reo.

Michael Kaiser

You were laying down with your bf , cuddling and in your own seperate worlds. You were reading a manga and he was just scrolling , blanket over you , you laying on top of his chest etc... everything added up to a perfect cuddle session.

When you finish your book , you close it and rub your eyes. It has been a long period of focusing for them so you had to rest them before they bleed to blindness. You looked up to see your boyfriend unbotheredly continuing to scroll , while mindlessly caressing your back in the same time.

You then REALLY looked at him. His awfully-cut-but-still-suits-him-somehow hairstyle ; his eyes dazed and not really paying attention to his phone as if he was bored out of his mind , his muscles flexing unintentionally due to his positioning , his lips in an adorable half-pout and his hair falling beautifully over his forehead/eyes. He looked like he belonged to a fashion magazine rn.

So you did what you knew best. You kissed him on the lips without any warning , any preparation , nothing... Then pulled back and looked at him with a face that said "i know what i did , i am not gonna apologize and i am proud. Cope with it."

He locked his phone and turned his attention to you when he felt you getting closer to him. He didn't even have time to get surprised before he felt your lips crashing onto his. He then could barely reacted before you pulled away and got comfortable over his chest again. He chuckled and shook his head in amused disapproval.

"You're such a stupid dork but that's why i love you i guess..."

Itoshi Rin

You were mindlessly strolling around your shared house with your bf , trying to do all the chores and have time for yourself to sit down and rest.

As for him , he came from his soccer practice about 30 minutes ago and he was currently showering.

After your body gave up on accompanying your desires to push through all the chores , you technically collapsed onto the couch. You decided to wait for your bf to get out of the shower so you could eat dinner with him before going on with the remaining tasks.

After about 5 mins at max , he came out. He didn't really put any effort to his looks. He had sweatpants only , no shirt on , hair half damp half already dried on it's own due to the summer heat. It was unfair how effortlessly handsome he looked.

You pouted and gave a dreamy sigh out. He looks so kissable rn... That idea quickly took root in your mind. Then before you knew it , you were walking your way towards him. You placed a quick kiss to his lips and murmured a soft "you look handsome" then sashayed your way to the kitchen to prepare the dinner. Chill , unbothered...

He stood there dumbfounded. His voice slightly cracking in blushing. "Tf was that for ?". In his book , this meant "i liked it , do it again some time." You knew it and you giggled proudly , while he was having a cardiac arrest on the spot.

Itoshi Sae

You two sat down at his workroom. He was reading some professionals' media reports about his career and also some interview requests. As for you , you were just watching him , bringing him fruits or snacks etc.

After about a few hours of complete silence , you were bored out of your mind. You knew not to interfere with him when he is working , it never ended well so far. It wasn't violent but he didn't let you leave him after you distracted him and practically forced you into full-blown make-out sessions. But you were getting tired of the neverending silence and silly little pranks were branching their way in your mind.

You planned everything silently. You would just give him a quick kiss that would for sure distract him. If he were to get angry , you would play the innocent and say sth like you just wanted to give him emotional support. That's what you have thought , but to your surprise none of it would happen...

You walked your way over to him , gently lifted his chin up and gave him a quick kiss with a sinister smile that said "ik what i did bitch". After that you were about to walk away , but you felt a strong grip at your wrist. Before you knew it you were yanked back and sat on top of his lap. He looked at you disappointedly.

"You are giving me a kiss and without giving me a chance to return it , you are walking away. Where is your manners sweetie ?"

You knew you were there for at least 3 hours after that.

Mikage Reo

You had nothing to do today. No friend outings , no tasks , no house chores , no dates. Simply nothing. So what did you do ? Scroll in tiktok. That was the best way to kill time right ? WRONG.

You accidentally came across that trend where parents stick a camera inside their toddler's hat and just watch them pitter-patter around. The girl there had so chubby cheeks and so cute babbling that you screamed out on top of your lungs.

"SHE'S SO CUTE IT'S UNFAIIIIRRRR"

Your poor boyfriend came from another room to check on you. He was gaming , with a headphone and music blasting in his ears ; but he still heard your scream. That's how loud it was.

When you saw him , you dashed and threw yourself onto him. Kissing him all over his face , spesifically on his lips , biting his cheeks with muffled screams.No amount of time he had spent with you prepared him for this disaster.

"Babe , sweetie , y/n... What are you doing ? If you are hungry , i can order sth for you. " "Shut up , i saw a toddler on the internet now i am taking my cuteness agression fever out. Are we too young to have babies ? "

He stood there dumbfounded , shaking his head in a way that meant "how tf did i get myself into this ?". But he didn't make a move to push you either. You were a koala maybe , but his koala at least. And he was hopelessly in love...

#blue lock #blue lock headcanons #blue lock x reader #michael kaiser #blue lock kaiser #bllk kaiser #kaiser x reader #itoshi rin #blue lock rin #bllk rin #itoshi rin x reader #itoshi sae #blue lock sae #bllk sae #itoshi sae x reader #mikage reo #blue lock reo #bllk reo #mikage reo x reader

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totoochristianwolff · 2 months ago

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MIAMI GP 2025 - MEDIA DAY: Whilst preparing for an interview with Elizabeth Pérez, she shared that she has a friend who loves both George and Toto, but her friend has something for Toto. George @ the end says about Toto: "he's taken" 😂🎥

#toto wolff #torger christian wolff #george russell #miami gp 2025 #tcw.posts #video #toto's reactions during this 😂#but also how fucking sweet is he!!!

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sgiandubh · 4 months ago

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Critics' Choice Awards, 2025. Let's go!

She wears Prada tonight, which is interesting and also looks like a huge relief recently hit her:

First red carpet shots:

Where is that damned ring, anyways?

That long gone light seems to be back on her face. I wonder what might have happened, in the meanwhile:

Gareth Bromell, always serviceable:

I downloaded the reel and slowed it down, at a 0.25 speed ratio. Here is what I saw, in what clearly was a rented sort of space/serviced flat, while preparing for the event.

A third person is in that room. Nope, that is clearly a blonde young woman and her sleek, black handbag:

Clearer, my God, to Thee:

Handbag and silver glasses case (?):

This is how C, a very touchy-feely person, playfully thanks/encourages her queer hairdresser. I can honestly assure you this is nowhere near what I saw at that Taylor Swift concert, with S:

The black overcoat/whatever on the far right (blue arrow) belongs, I believe, to the Blonde Young Woman, who is wearing matching pants:

Now, for the million dollar question: who is that Blonde Mystery Woman?

It's not Karla Welch, her stylist tagged by Gareth. This is Karla Welch:

We know Karla Welch was there today, working. But not on that reel, nope:

Is it Mary Wiles, her MUA?

This is Mary Wiles...

... who was also skin prepping her for the event, in that room. But not on that reel:

Is it the third person tagged by Bromell, Grace Wrightsell, stylist and self-awoved 'lover of tchotchkes'?

Clearer:

I think so, or at least, I am reasonably leaning towards it. The nose, forehead, smile and hairstyle are a very good match with Mystery Blonde Woman:

I mean, it's hard to tell, with that appalling light and no makeup, as compared to this pic of Mrs. Wrightsell in full battledress (delicious East Coast style, by the way):

She was there, too. Tagged Bromell and two other stylist friends, Caroline Ninger and Maya Heslow. None of which look like Blonde Mystery Woman (you can go check, I am done with following dead tracks, tonight):

Five stylists to prep C. Important moment, apparently and one in which *** would definitely like to be directly involved (relevant in a very short while, below).

Residual theory: could it be The Nanny and not at all the above glamorous apparition? I mean, why not, after all, but there is way too little evidence to circumstantiate that. Could it be a minder/PA? Yes, but in fact, no. Minders/PAs don't play along all the prepping process and they tend to keep to their job description (remember McGill sultrily dragging that accoutrement bag on a wet sidewalk, with no C in sight, some years ago?).

And *** was prominently there, of course:

Mrs. Allison Hoffman, President, Domestic Networks for ***. Nope, not The Mystery Blonde Woman, either. Took me a while, as both look fairly generic Anglo-Saxon.

And then, we have this weird interview, just in on YouTube:

youtube

Just two things, as I take them verbatim for our Spanish girls:

Access Hollywood Journo (AHJ)- 00:45: 'You and S have such great chemistry, talk to me about your bond off-camera, cause I know you guys really support each other...'

C: 'Yeah, I mean, look, we've been such good mates and we've sort of... we've varied (?), we've made a very conscious decision back in Season 1, like a million years ago, that we have to have each other's backs and we've kinda stuck to that, and I was texting with him yesterday, and he's great, you know, he's living his best life at the moment, so...'

AHJ: 'He kinda... I remember him (scrambled..) he's like a big outdoorsman, like he's very into the ..'

C:'Yeah, he got the whole keep fit bug, I did not. Sooo... anyway...'

Wait a minute, Mrs. B, you don't have 'the keep fit bug' and yet you ran a marathon (ah, those romantic pics with McGill... 😅😅😅😅) and allegedly prepare to run another half-marathon in Paris, shortly? Wow. I am shocked.

Also, Mrs. B, you don't have 'the keep fit bug' and you keep literature like this on your bookshelves? Blimey. I should consider buying an orthodontics treatise, then.

[ Remember how I landed here, ROFLMAO? https://sgiandubh.tumblr.com/post/720483288334090240/it-all-starts-with-a-smoke-alarm]

But sure, go ahead, treat your Stans and the Casuals with formulaic, semi-annoyed BS like this. Especially when Mrs. Hoffman is around, mind you. That contract ain't over, yet.

To save the best for last, let's draw The Husband card from that tarot deck. Always, always a success with The Masses:

AHJ: '(...) who is your biggest fan?'

C:' Who's my biggest fan? Oh... whoa...I hope my husband' [contrived laughter].

'I hope.' What?! "I HOPE'? Hello?

Just two quick notes. If her face could speak by itself, while her brain was scrambling to quickly answer something to that question, we'd probably hear Bridget Jones' most famous line ever:

Also, her Irish brogue was back at full speed. Something we know she always does when she is really, really pissed.

But wouldn't you like to know who was C's +1 at that event, after all?

Come on, I know you do. All of you, ladies. Even the people in the back who snoop in here without logging in, from a different browser and then send Anons across the street with The Scoop (ROFLMAO).

Here is who I think was C's +1 tonight:

Karolina Wydra, her best friend ever. And yes, the picture was taken on behalf of the Critics' Choice Association, unlike many of the whole lot, which makes it almost official.

We were told so.

Something is definitely going on. Enough said, this post is horribly long, but I tried my very best.

Anyways Kathy Bates won. But that was really a no brainer.

#fandom #shitshow #Critics' Choice Award 2025 #Youtube

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manasastuff-blog · 1 month ago

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mirai-e-jump · 2 months ago

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Uchusen Vol.188 (Spring 2025) Kamen Rider Gavv | Detail of Heroes ft. Main Cast & Director Interviews (other pages and translations below)

Publication: April 1, 2025

Chinen Hidekazu x Hino Yusuke

"Half a year has gone by since the program started, but have there been any changes in your surroundings over the course of filming so far?"

Chinen: People rarely called out to me on the street when the show first started airing, but recently, I've had people at the location sites react with, "Ah, it's Shouma!," and children will give me their drawings of Gavv as gifts. It got me to realize that tons of children are watching Gavv.

Hino: I'm glad that you've been working so hard. Everyone's looking at Hide……

Chinen: That goes for Yusuke-kun too!! (laughs).

Hino: No, when we were previously filming at the river, we waved back at a father and his child who were waving at us from the opposite side and saying, "Ah! It's Gavv!" Then, the father kept saying, "He's so cute~"……he wasn't looking at me (laughs).

Chinen: That's not true! He probably didn't realize it was you due to the distance between us (laughs).

Hino: I guess you're right! It's thanks to that costume that he forgot it was me! (laughs).

Chinen: The first time I could really feel the reaction of the fans was on February 5 at the "Super Hero Festival"!

Hino: Right! From adults to children, it made me happy that so many people were cheering us on.

Chinen: Many of them came dressed as Shouma. Both men and women. I thought that Kamen Rider fans were mostly made up of men, but I was surprised and happy to see that there were "so many women as well!"

"Please tell us your first impressions of each other, as well as your current impressions."

Hino: When I first met Hide, I got the impression that he had a puppy like cuteness to him, but after overcoming numerous obstacles over the course of filming so far, he's become more reliable. He used to be the "cute junior" who would ask me various questions, but now I feel like we're rivals who compete with each other in a mutual way. Also, given that we always spend alot of time together, even if we don't exchange words, I've started to tell if he's "doing well today," or if he "didn't get enough sleep today." Although, the way we screw around becomes more intense the closer we get to each other (laughs).

Chinen: Yusuke-kun has a longer career as an actor than I do, so I've been following by his example since filming began. He consults with me after the daily shoot, and has taught me so many things. And then recently, I've gradually come to understand more about acting, and we've been able to discuss the production and my way of thinking as an actor. Previously, all I could do was run after him, but now I feel that we're rivals who inspire each other and can run together.

"Chinen-san also played the role of Dark Shouma, but how was it playing a double role?"

Chinen: Being able to try out a different acting style from that of the usual Shouma was a valuable opportunity, so I prepared a "dark notebook" to write in for the role of Dark Shouma. I went into filming with that same amount of enthusiasm, but because both my performance and post recording time was now doubled, my tiredness came out more easily. However, with the help of Yusuke-kun and the rest of the cast, and with Director Tasaki giving me alot of advice for his first appearance in episode 21, I was able to perform the role without issue. Still, everyone said to me, "You're acting more lively than Shouma normally is" (laughs).

Hino: Hide had just gotten used to playing the role of Shouma, so I envied him since he was able to approach his performance from a different perspective. Even when transforming into Bitter Gavv, he created the role with sparkling eyes by saying stuff like, "What if I stick out my tongue here?," and it looked like he was having fun.

Chinen: When you play a role that's so close to your actual self, you lose sight of the boundaries between yourself and the role. With that being the case, it was very refreshing to play a role in which I ran away without paying for hot oden and beat up the old lady who ran the dagashi shop.

Hino: Yeah? So uh, which role is closer to you? (laughs).

Chinen: You oughta know!! (laughs). I was able to do bad things in my performance that I'd normally never do, so I was eager to create the role. Still, even though Shouma beats up Dark Shouma, those he harmed and the people who were in the area still leave with a bad impression of Shouma. It broke my heart to think that Shouma was creating a difficult situation for people to be in.

"We think that Hanto also had a difficult time dealing with emotional highs and lows, as shocking facts kept being revealed one after another."

Hino: I could feel the Planning and Scriptwriting team's strong determination of, "This is the kind of position Hanto's in" (laughs). After learning that Shouma's part of the Stomach Family, I thought that he was able to reconcile with him, but soon after, he learns about his mother's final moments, and then he learned the truth that his mentour's death had been arranged by Suga……it was like being hit with flurry of punches. Shouma's the only one he can talk to about Granutes from another Kamen Rider's perspective, so if he left him, Hanto would be all alone, wouldn't he? And when that happens, the only person he can count on is Suga, and yet Suga had him wrapped around his finger. While Hanto took an incredible amount of mental damage from that, it was so rewarding for me as an actor.

Chinen: In episode 22, he settles things with Hanto, but right after that in the beginning of episode 23, he rejects him by saying, "I can't deal with you." I could comprehend the story, but it was difficult for me as Shouma to create the flow in which Hanto's feelings would be properly connected to it.

Hino: When Hanto found out that Shouma was part of the Stomach Family, he fell into a mixed feeling of sadness and rage that Shouma had hidden the truth from him, and then there was the confusion and conflicting feelings he had about their friendship up to that point. I prepared with incredible enthusiasm to express this. Still, while deep down in his heart he was expecting for his mother to still be alive, when he was told about his mother's final moments, he came to learn that her encounter with Shouma is what led to her death. I was in a complicated situation, because if I let my emotions explode right then and there, he'd be blaming Shouma, so I had to suppress my emotions. That's why instead of using my performance skills, I just went with the flow and let things naturally take over from there.

"With the addition of their ally Lakia, has there been any change in your teamwork?"

Chinen: Kohei-kun looks cool, but he's a passionate man full of love and who values communication. That's why with Kohei-kun's arrival, everyone has more time to get together.

Hino: We didn't have much time to go out to eat together before Kohei-kun came along. But now the four of us, which includes Sachika, go out to eat together, as well as spend our private time together.

Chinen: Honestly speaking, I was worried that Shouma and Gavv would be overshadowed by Lakia's Kohei-kun, as he already had a year of experience in "Mashin Sentai Kiramager." Kohei-kun is cool and Lakia's character is appealing.

Hino: Vram is also really cool.

Chinen: Vram's first appearance in episode 17 was so cool, that it made me nervous, but in any case, Lakia is appealing.

Hino: There's no doubt that he's cool. However, as Kamen Riders facing the same enemy, I was worried when I simply wondered, "Can they really become friends when he beat the shit out of Hanto?" For Hanto, he's the same species as his mother and mentour's killers, and unlike Shouma, Lakia himself has no feelings for humans. I can't imagine how the relationship between these two will develop.

Chinen: Lakia's not the most social either.

Hino: Lakia's personality change and Hanto's growth will likely cause a sense of friendship to blossom.

"As a result, Shouma had to tell everyone his secret, but were there any changes in your performance compared to when you were hiding it?"

Chinen: I was hoping you'd ask me that! (laughs). Up until now, the level of secrecy would be different depending on the person I was working with, so it'd be like, "I want to keep this secret from Hanto, I've already told this much to Lakia, and this is a secret from Sachika-san." That's why I had to write out these situations in the script as I performed in order to keep them organized. So, I'm relieved that he was able to tell everyone the truth (laughs). Especially since he was able to reveal his secret to Sachika-san, Hapipare really became a place for Shouma to belong, and I think it helped him to feel secure within the story.

Hino: Having a place to return to is nice, isn't it?

"Both Gavv and Valen have appeared in numerous forms, but please tell us your favorite forms for each other's Riders, not your own."

Chinen: It would have to be Valen's Frappe Custom. The Gochizou that Hanto had been using until then had to be given to him by Shouma or made by Suga-san. However, the Frappeis Gochizou is one created just for Hanto. The Gochizou itself has a unique design that's divided into a top and bottom section, with each having a cute name, that being "Frappe Ichirou" and "Frappe Jirou." All the Gochizou-chan are like Shouma's children, but they're special children that he gives to Hanto as presents after overcoming various obstacles.

Hino: The scene where Valen's mark was engraved on it was great.

Chinen: Now that he's powered up, Valen can finally stand on his own (laughs).

Hino: The situation hasn't changed though, as Shouma still had to give him the Gochizou (laughs). I like Gavv's CaKing form. It's the first "Gochizou that doesn't disappear even if it's used," but that's because it's a "handmade sweet created with someone else in mind." I think it's great that those feelings became a special power, as it makes it seem heroic. Also, it's interesting that the Whipped Soldiers come out, as now we can do action scenes with multiple people. The Rider Kick making candles appear is also cool.

Chinen: CaKing form's cape is cool.

Hino: The cape is cool! It's so unfair! Next time, birth a Gochizou for Valen that'll give him a cape too! (laughs).

"Do you have any episodes that have been most memorable so far?"

Hino: It was really tough filming episode 24, where I was covered in ink. My costume was also inked, so it was a one take situation, and I couldn't even go to the bathroom during the shoot in order to avoid getting ink on the set and equipment. In a physical sense, it was the harshest part of the shoot.

Chinen: It's episode 24 for me too. Shouma, who had been weak up until then, recovered with the ice cream Sachika-san gave him, but I personally have a strong emotional attachment to the situation because it was mentally difficult for me to reconcile with Hanto.

"Finally, please give a message to all the Gavv fans."

Hino: From now on, Shouma, Hanto, and Lakia will work together to face the increasingly intense battles against the Stomach Family. As for Hanto, one highlight will be his "battle to protect humans" as a Kamen Rider, where he'll draw upon the bonds he established in the first half of the series. I look forward to your support until the end!

Chinen: After this, Gavv will enter a new chapter, with new enemies and a more expansive story. Not only Shouma's team, but the circumstances of the Stomach Family will also be explored, so please pay attention to that. The foreshadowing that Komura Sensei has been carefully scattering will gradually be brought to light, but even we don't know what will happen in the end either. Everyone, please look forward to future developments! _

Asanuma Shintaro

"Please tell us the details of how you became involved in this work."

Asanuma: I received an offer from Toei. To be honest, I had previously received an offer for the Kamen Rider series, but I wasn't able to appear due to my schedule. I wanted to appear in the series by any means, including as a revenge for that time, so I'm glad that it came to fruition.

"Your image is different from when you voiced Juran in "Kikai Sentai Zenkaiger," so some tokusatsu fans were probably surprised."

Asanuma: Normally, whether I'm a Voice Actor or actor, I usually perform my roles with the consciousness of not making the viewer feel that I'm "Asanuma Shintaro" as much as possible. Ideally, I'd like for people to notice that it's me for the first time during the end credits. As someone who originally came to Tokyo to become a film Director, I'm very happy to be able to spend all my time on the set of the drama, rather than in the usual post recording studio.

"What's your impression of the Kamen Rider series?"

Asanuma: I watched "Kamen Rider (Skyrider)" and "Kamen Rider Super-1" as they aired when I was a child. I also watched "Space Sheriff Gavan" and "Dai Sentai GoggleV," but the tokusatsu heroes that I was particularly engrossed with were from the Kamen Rider series.

"Do you have any special memories?"

Asanuma: It's a shame to say this, as I've had regular appearances in Super Sentai and Ultraman, but the heroes I have a particularly strong attachment to are Kamen Riders. I lost my father when I was four years old, but I still have a cassette tape with his and my voice on it from when he was still alive. In those days, video cameras had yet to become a commodity in most households, so the only memories I have of my father are in photographs and on that cassette tape. On side A of the cassette, there's the voice of my father reading the Kamen Rider manga to me and my older sister. It was the original manga drawn by Ishinomori Shotaro Sensei, so I think it was alittle difficult for me to understand at the time (laughs). And then, side B has the sounds of my father and I playing Kamen Rider. That's why Kamen Rider is an important connection between me and my father, and an indispensable part of my life.

"We heard that you also did hero shows. Did you ever perform as a Kamen Rider?"

Asanuma: After serving as grunts and monsters, my first time performing in a hero suit was for MammothRanger in the "Kyoryu Sentai Zyuranger" show, and from there, I played Kamen Rider V3, Stronger, and Black RX, just to name a few. When it came to the shows, they were gorgeous, in part because they used original stories, but there were also joint performances with senior Riders and Super Sentai, which wasn't common at the time. After that in 2000, I created and directed a performance called "Zipper!," which was a hero show about what they do behind the scenes, but in order to familiarize the performers to the world of the show, I was assisted through the cooperation of a show team that I had previously worked with. Since I referred to them at the time (laughs), I participated with them and played the role of Kuuga. I also participated in the show when they revived "Zipper!" in 2003, playing the role of Faiz.

"We'd like to ask you about Kamen Rider Gavv this time. What were your first impressions when you heard about the setting and worldview of this work?"

Asanuma: I was particularly surprised that it was a "sweets Kamen Rider." I've been surprised by Rider designs in the past, but I never thought I'd be surprised by the motif. Then again, I was also incredibly surprised when fruit was used in "Kamen Rider Gaim" (laughs). I thought, "What kind of substance would come from a sweets motif?," but there were many aspects that reminded me of Showa era Riders, such as "leaving while concealing his name and true identity," "being perceived as a monster," and "becoming a hero after being remodified." It also made me happy that the secondary Rider wears leather and has the occupation of a "reporter." It was also an honor for me to be the one in charge of his remodification surgery. That's why when I heard that Suga was going to transform, I started imagining things like, "He's a scientist, so maybe he'll become the Reiwa version of Ika Devil?" (laughs).

"But instead of becoming a monster, he transformed into a Kamen Rider."

Asanuma: The only thing I could say was, "Alright!" (laughs). When filming started, I never heard anything about me transforming into a Kamen Rider. However, I was told by one of the staff members that, "If you keep saying that you want to transform, it could happen." So, I was absurdly honest and kept saying it, and then my wish came true (laughs). While I might have been too greedy, I really wanted to become a popcorn Rider! My first photo book was titled "POPCORN," and I said to myself, "If I'm going to transform, I have to become a popcorn Rider!" I can talk about this now, but the reason Suga would snap his fingers every now and again was my way of adlibbing the impression that "it's bursting like popcorn." In the end, I was told, "A Popcorn Gochizou will appear, but it won't be used for transforming" (laughs).

"You put in alot of painful effort before you transformed into a Kamen Rider, huh? (laughs)."

Asanuma: Incidentally, when Hanto returns to the lab after making up his mind to undergo the remodification surgery in episode 6, I was eating peanuts, which was also me adlibbing. I used the peanuts that were served on set to express Suga's sense of composure that "he'll come back soon enough," and his lack of humanity, as he's carelessly eating during a serious scene. Actually, it may have also come from some expectation that I'd "transform into a Rider with a nut themed sweet……" (laughs).

"What was it like filming the transformation scene?"

Asanuma: One thing I was particular about wasn't the pose, but the way "Henshin" was said. It was a very relaxed and unserious way of saying it, that being, "What was it again? Ah, that's right. Henshin." What I envisioned was a system where the Bakemagnum is activated through the input of a vocal keyword at the end like, "I said it because I had to say it." "Henshin" is a very important word for Kamen Riders, and I think it's one that even evil Riders cherish. However, the man called Suga would never cherish it (laughs). For Suga, the use of his transformation item and the way he says "Henshin" isn't a cool signature phrase, but are instead just "a part of the process." Therefore, I thought about how much I could do to create a transformation that would be unsuitable for NichiAsa. When I demonstrated it in front of the Producer, he said, "Uwah, that's scary," so I felt that this was the right thing to do.

"To begin with, how did you prepare for the role of Suga?"

Asanuma: I expanded upon the image I got from the script and added things like, "He can't take a hint." Suga isn't a "suspicious monster," but rather a "freak with significantly low interest regarding people." For example, when Hanto tells him that his mother was kidnapped in episode 4, before he empathizes with his painful situation, he's more interested in the fact that she was taken alive and not as a Human Press. He's lacking sensibility, and he couldn't help but quickly ask, "That was how many years ago?" without lowering the tone of his voice. I'm conscious of making him the kind of "guy you don't want to open up to as much as possible." Out of all the characters in Gavv, I think he's by far the least trusted by the viewers (laughs).

"Did the Directors or staff give you any orders for the creation of your role?"

Asanuma: One day, I found a note tucked inside the script explaining Suga's past and background. It was by Scriptwriter Komura-san, and she wrote about how Suga isn't simply just a mad scientist and why he's so obsessed with Hanto. However, I was given this just before filming of episode 27. I was shocked and was like, "Is now the time for this?!" (laughs). That said, I also felt that the image of Suga that I had created up to this point wasn't wrong, so even if I had received the note earlier, I don't think it would've made much difference. Sadly, Suga was defeated, so I don't know if the contents of the note will be depicted in a future work, but I hope it'll be revealed in something like a spin off.

"Did you have meetings with Bake's Suit Actor Kitamura Kai-san?"

Asanuma: I have a mutual acquaintance with Kai-san, so I greeted him and we exchanged LINES when he was playing Otake (the Mushroom Granute) in episodes 5 and 6. Before filming for Bake, I gave him a voice message saying, "This is how I'd read this line," and he would listen to it and perform the post transformation version of it. Therefore, I have the impression that the two of us created Bake's performance together. Also, we both have similar heights and are left handed. I was surprised by this wonderful coincidence, and at the same time, I was excited to think that he'd be able to naturally portray my transformed self.

"Asanuma-san, you've appeared many times as a Voice Actor in tokusatsu productions, but how was post recording for Gavv?"

Asanuma: I didn't think that Suga was the kind of guy who'd go, "Hah!" or "Oriya!," so even during battle, I would say rough, casual lines like, "How about this?" or "Let's stop doing that. It's unsightly~." I was just talking the whole time. Hide and Yusuke, who were watching, were shocked and said, "It's okay to record so liberally?!" I panicked and said, "No, no, this is because it's Suga! You guys aren't allowed to imitate me!" (laughs).

"We've been asking everyone involved with Gavv, but what's Asanuma-san's favorite sweet?"

Asanuma: I like anything, but I think I eat snack (crispy) items most often. By the way, Bake uses a chocolate chip cookie Gochizou, but an anime I appeared in not that long ago called "Promise of Wizard" collaborated with "Aunt Stella's Cookies" and ran a campaign in which the characters from the anime refer to their favorite cookies. At that time, I played the character Owen, and he recommended their chocolate chip cookies. For almost four months now, I've been thinking, "I want to tell everyone about this coincidence!" I finally got my chance to tell you about it (laughs).

"Finally, please give a message to our readers."

Asanuma: Will Nyelv-kun read it?

"No, direct it towards our readers (laughs)."

Asanuma: Ah, sorry (laughs)……To be honest, I'd like to use this opportunity to apologize. Up until now, I've been asked many times by friends and the other actors around me, "Will Suga transform?" We weren't at the stage yet where I could talk about it, so I kept saying, "I can't, I can't. I'm doing my best not to make my exit."…….Everyone, forgive me! I did transform!……Hah~ I feel relieved! Finally, I'm free now (laughs). And then, to all the fans who support Shouma and Hanto and their friends. I'm truly sorry for making you feel uneasy up until now……or maybe, thank you if you did feel uneasy. Kenzo Suga's role was to stir up Gavv's story, so it'd make me happy if you've been watching Suga with that feeling in mind. Now that the selfish, psycho, and annoying being that was Suga has been defeated, who will your fear and anger be directed towards now? How about Nyelv-kun? Nyelv-kun! You'll have to take care of the rest! (laughs). It wasn't quite the image of Kamen Rider that I had envisioned from my childhood, but I'm proud that I was able to leave my mark on the show. I'd like to go to my father's grave and report this to him. I'll say, "I know it's different from what you remember, but I transformed into a Kamen Rider." _

Action Director Fujita Satoshi

"You've worked as a performer in many productions up until now, but what made you decide to become an Action Director?"

Fujita: I'm short, and when I first started working in this field, I was told by those around me that "it'd be difficult to continue working as an action actor when I'm this short, and that I should consider a different career path." That's why I started helping Watanabe Jun-san, who also went from being a performer to an Action Director with "Kamen Rider Zero-One," and starting around "Saber," I helped edit video storyboards (storyboards made with moving pictures), and from there, my vision for being an Action Director grew. After that, Producer Minato, who's also a close friend of mine, hired me as the Action Director for "Kamen Rider Outsiders," and that came to be the stepping stone for where I am now. The presence of Director Nakazawa and Producer Takebe, who selected me as the Action Director for "Kamen Rider Geats" TV series, was also very important.

"What exactly does the job of an Action Director entail?"

Fujita: In some cases, I'll think about the direction, and once I've thought about it, I'll go as far as to say, "I'll request a crane on this day, and will arrange the amount of people needed to assist the action staff on that day." It feels like I spend more time on paperwork. However, maybe it's just the way I spend my time. Director Kamihoriuchi has an incredibly sophisticated way of doing things, and he manages to do them skilfully and smoothly. I'd like to learn from him. Looking back on it now, I've loved music videos since I was a teenager, so when I was listening to the music, I'd think about the shots and direction in my head. So, maybe I had the desire to become a Director even back then. I still have a desire to shoot music videos, and perhaps that's connected to the fact that I tend to create catchy scenes when I'm filming action.

"Please tell us how you became the Action Director for the final episode of "Kamen Rider Revice."

Fujita: Sites like "Wikipedia" say that I worked with Jun-san as an Action Director for the final episode of Revice, but in reality, I only directed the scene where Kan Hideyoshi-kun from Geats appears. All he did was encounter and speak with Igarashi Ikki in front of the bathhouse, so I didn't really do that much as an Action Director.

"So Geats was your debut as an Action Director for a TV series. Now then, how did you get the offer for Gavv?"

Fujita: I was approached by Producer Takebe, who had also helped me with Geats. At that point, it was packed with tons of original ideas, and I personally felt that it was really interesting. Once the script's setting and plot were completed, I was surprised to find that despite its poppin appearance, the details of the story were very harsh. Shouma's life growing up is also quite tragic.

"What do you keep in mind when filming this work?"

Fujita: This isn't just for Gavv, but I'm always conscious of creating actions based on a person's background and personality, rather than the impression I get from their appearance. That's why I wanted to forget about Gavv's heroic design for a moment, and instead create a wild stance and fighting style for him that reflects his origins where "a Granute is a monster." I discussed this with Gavv's Suit Actor Nawata Yuya-san, and we came up with the style you see now. We of course didn't disregard the design, rather, we calculated the advantages of "the gap between that design and the wild actions."

"How did you think of Valen's actions so that they'd be in contrast to the wild Gavv?"

Fujita: At first, I imagined Valen as a cool character, but when I read the scripts for episodes 5 and 6, in which he fights an enemy as a Kamen Rider for the first time, I got the impression that he was more desperate to bear his fangs than be cool. Director Morota agreed with me on this. Also, unlike how Shouma's from the Granute world, Hanto was just an ordinary human before he underwent the remodification surgery, right? Based on this, I decided to create a character who'd be loved by the viewers for being "not super strong," but "passionate and reliable."

"It was shocking to see Valen get crushed by Glotta in his second appearance."

Fujita: I was also shocked and said, "How can he get the shit kicked out of him during his second battle?!" (laughs). However, Director Sugihara wanted to make Glotta an overwhelmingly strong character, so I understood, thinking, "If that's the case, then it's alright for Valen to suffer." Still, in episodes 7 and 8, Valen's Suit Actor Kaji also did jumping scenes, and Valen had many cool stunt like highlights, which made him really cool.

"What about Vram, the tertiary Kamen Rider?"

Fujita: I also discussed with Suit Actor Eitoku-san on how to express the character who comes after the wild Gavv and the passionate Valen. In fact, Gavv's "wildness" and Valen's "passionate ruggedness" are similar in some ways, so we decided on a "downer but cool type," as it was an attribute that neither Rider had. At first, I thought of him using a fighting style called "pudding kenpo," in which the Rider is always shaking while fighting, as it would take advantage of the "pudding Rider" and "jellyfish motif the Granute transforms from" setup. I came up with various ideas and also created video storyboards, but in the end, they were rejected (laughs). The only thing that remained was the "knee sliding into a yankii sitting pose" scene, which was used to agitate Valen. That was a move that I had been cooking up since the beginning. As a result, I decided on his fighting style by expanding upon that move.

"Please tell us about their opponent, Kamen Rider Bitter Gavv."

Fujita: Bitter Gavv wasn't that strong when he first appeared, as he leaves the scene after Vram puts enough pressure on him. Nevertheless, I thought about adding in a variety of fun elements. When I think up actions, I try to include elements that'll make people "want to imitate them." Therefore, Bitter Gavv was given a distinctive stance, and I also included the scenes where his joints dislocate during battle. If those who watch the program think, "That's cool~, I wanna dislocate my joints too," then I'll have succeeded (laughs). You really shouldn't dislocate them! For scenes where his joints dislocate, Suit Actor Nakata-kun and I discussed, "Wouldn't it look more detached if we did it this way?," and I created a video storyboard. Chinen Hidekazu-kun's performance as Dark Shouma was also really good.

"For this series, Gavv is made up of a small number of regular characters and Riders, but wasn't it difficult to create multiple Riders in a production like Geats?"

Fujita: I always think in terms of "this person is likely to do that," but on the flip side, I'll create their personalities by subtracting things that "this person wouldn't be able to do." I'll explain this directing method to the Suit Actors and ask them to come up with their own personalities. That way, I'm sometimes able to make use of the ideas they come up with as they are, use them later once they've grown, or maybe I'll use them for another character.

"Please tell us what you're conscious of in terms of the Granute characters that appear in each episode."

Fujita: I also try to take the beliefs and personal lives of the grunts and monsters into consideration. Tokusatsu works don't often delve into those kinds of aspects for the monsters, but……as an example, I think that a monster with hammers for arms lives a life of their own with those hammers. I'm a fan of Ghibli productions, and the worlds that Miyazaki Hayao-san depicts have a sense of reality within the fantasy. In a similar way, I believe that fantasy creatures like monsters can be made more convincing by presenting their beliefs, and when that happens, viewers will become more invested in the monster and show. I think the mood of the Agents performances is a particularly important part of showing Gavv's worldview.

"For the "reality in the form of fantasy," what exactly did you want to express?"

Fujita: For example, when a Rider pulls out a weapon, even though nothing should be there, they'll often pull it out from behind their backs or from out of frame, but I didn't want to do that. Therefore, I made sure that the Gavvgablade that Gavv uses comes out of the mouth on his stomach. Doing it like this increases the level of reality within the fantasy, don't you think? I think it'll get the viewers excited and invested in it. At the same time, it's also possible to create a "subtractive" direction like, "If the mouth is covered, the weapon can't come out."

"Are there any impressive action scenes that you've directed so far?"

Fujita: This is relevant to what I said before, but ever since the Gavvgablade first appeared, it just popped out of the mouth on his stomach, but I'm sure those watching must've thought, "I wish it came out looking cooler." The first time I made that look cool was in episode 11, when the sword flies out of the belt and hits an Agent. If I cut out that scene, the impression would've been something like, "Well, it's still interesting," but I think those who watched it were moved by their desire to see the "sword come out in a cool way." I like scenes that are created by build ups like those.

"In that episode, a highlight was the battle scene where they fight while knocking over the vending machine."

Fujita: Nawata-san and I both did our best in episode 11, but Director Kamihoriuchi did an amazing job of preparing things. Immediately after the script was finished, we received an order for "the battle to have these kinds of vibes," and it was decided that we'd construct a back alley set instead of filming on location. We prepared vending machines and outdoor units for the shoot, and then were subsequently given the order, "Since we can use the difference in elevation, can you think of some actions to take advantage of this?" I made about three video storyboards and had thorough discussions, and I exchanged ideas with the Director, where we came up with some interesting scenes, such as knocking over a vending machine and dropping an outdoor unit.

"Gavv uses lots of CG effects, but how do you shoot action scenes that use CG compositing?"

Fujita: Green screen filming techniques are common now, but it's still difficult to construct a scene from the script and have the entire film staff understand it. In my case, I'll discuss things with the Director, create a video stroyboard, and then think about the angles we want to shoot from and figure out what filming method to use. Along with it being easier to understand than verbal communication, we're also more likely to share opinions such as, "If that's the case, then maybe this is a better way to do it."

"The action of fighting by grabbing onto onomatopoeia words such as "munyu" is a direction unique to Gavv."

Fujita: That was shot on site using wire action, and then the letters for "munyu" would be added in post. I love wire action.

"Please tell us about any challenges you've experienced during filming so far."

Fujita: There have been so many challenges, that I don't know which one to talk about (laughs). What I'd like to say is that I've seen people on SNS say that, "Gavv started filming early, so it's nice that they have plenty of leeway," but because we started filming early, the deadline is also early, so there's really no time to spare. Toei's currently in the process of changing the filming schedule in order to "start preparations and filming early so they can create a good production." This policy will be very good for the coming future, but Gavv is stuck in the middle of this transitional period, so we're still exploring some things. The film staff and cast have been working hard despite such a schedule due to all the fans who look forward to the broadcasts.

"Will you no longer work as a Suit Actor in the future?"

Fujita: I do one offs every now and again, but balancing major roles like I used to do with being an Action Director is difficult. When I was working as a Suit Actor, moments where the character I was playing shined or gained depth felt rewarding. Still, I think the Action Director that I am now has more authority over giving depth to characters. I don't have a particular preference for one over another, but right now, as an Action Director, I'm excited about making Gavv and Valen and their friends shine. I'm doing everything I can to make it exciting for the children in front of the screens, the adult fans, and for Sugita-san, the Writer for Uchusen's "Detail of Heroes."

"Sugita-san too?! (laughs)."

Fujita: Sometimes when I'm directing, I'll think, "Sugita-san, you'll probably like this angle," or "Sugita-san! You'll be able to see the details here" (laughs).

"That's an honor. We'll pass this on to him. Finally, please tell us Fujita-san's favorite sweet."

Fujita: If I had to choose, I'd say it's "uirou." It's not a specialty from my hometown or anything like that, I just prefer uirou to yokan.

"Now then, please give a message to all the Gavv fans."

Fujita: Many people have said, "this Rider is my favorite," but I hope that the action was the deciding factor in making them their "favorite." The film staff and action team are working together, and we're doing our best to deliver you beautiful action, so please continue to support us!

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