#New iPhone cables

[munchboxart]

Anyone got any phone opinions for like, quality and stuff

[mahamid110]

👉 Essager USB-C to Lightning Cable Review ✅ Fast Charging for Your Apple Devices ⚡

🔌 Reliable Fast Charging The Essager USB-C to Lightning cable supports 29W Power Delivery (PD), enabling fast charging for Apple devices like the iPhone 14, 13, 12, 11 Pro Max, Xs, 8 Plus, as well as iPad and MacBook models. Say goodbye to long wait times and enjoy quick, efficient power-ups. ⚡💨

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🔋 Strong, Durable Build Made with high-quality materials, the cable is durable enough for daily use and can withstand bending and pulling. This sturdy design ensures that your charging and data transfers remain smooth without the wear and tear common with other cables. 🧵💪

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📈 Fast Data Transfer Beyond charging, the Essager cable enables quick data transfer between devices, making it easy to sync your iPhone with a MacBook or iPad. It’s a reliable companion for both work and play! 📂💾

💼 Compact & Travel-Friendly Lightweight and easy to pack, this cable is travel-friendly and a great on-the-go accessory. It’s the perfect addition to any tech kit for Apple users. 🧳🌍

⭐ Final Thoughts Essager’s USB-C to Lightning cable offers fast charging, durable design, and versatile compatibility at an affordable price. A fantastic choice for Apple users wanting a dependable, high-speed charging solution.

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[fozmeadows]

the older I get, the more the technological changes I've lived through as a millennial feel bizarre to me. we had computers in my primary school classroom; I first learned to type on a typewriter. I had a cellphone as a teenager, but still needed a physical train timetable. my parents listened to LP records when I was growing up; meanwhile, my childhood cassette tape collection became a CD collection, until I started downloading mp3s on kazaa over our 56k modem internet connection to play in winamp on my desktop computer, and now my laptop doesn't even have a disc tray. I used to save my word documents on floppy discs. I grew up using the rotary phone at my grandparents' house and our wall-connected landline; my mother's first cellphone was so big, we called it The Brick. I once took my desktop computer - monitor, tower and all - on the train to attend a LAN party at a friend's house where we had to connect to the internet with physical cables to play together, and where one friend's massive CRT monitor wouldn't fit on any available table. as kids, we used to make concertina caterpillars in class with the punctured and perforated paper strips that were left over whenever anything was printed on the room's dot matrix printer, which was outdated by the time I was in high school. VHS tapes became DVDs, and you could still rent both at the local video store when I was first married, but those shops all died out within the next six years. my facebook account predates the iphone camera - I used to carry around a separate digital camera and manually upload photos to the computer in order to post them; there are rolls of undeveloped film from my childhood still in envelopes from the chemist's in my childhood photo albums. I have a photo album from my wedding, but no physical albums of my child; by then, we were all posting online, and now that's a decade's worth of pictures I'd have to sort through manually in order to create one. there are video games I tell my son about but can't ever show him because the consoles they used to run on are all obsolete and the games were never remastered for the new ones that don't have the requisite backwards compatibility. I used to have a walkman for car trips as a kid; then I had a discman and a plastic hardshell case of CDs to carry around as a teenager; later, a friend gave my husband and I engraved matching ipods as a wedding present, and we used them both until they stopped working; now they're obsolete. today I texted my mother, who was born in 1950, a tiktok upload of an instructional video for girls from 1956 on how to look after their hair and nails and fold their clothes. my father was born four years after the invention of colour televison; he worked in radio and print journalism, and in the years before his health declined, even though he logically understood that newspapers existed online, he would clip out articles from the physical paper, put them in an envelope and mail them to me overseas if he wanted me to read them. and now I hold the world in a glass-faced rectangle, and I have access to everything and ownership of nothing, and everything I write online can potentially be wiped out at the drop of a hat by the ego of an idiot manchild billionaire. as a child, I wore a watch, but like most of my generation, I stopped when cellphones started telling us the time and they became redundant. now, my son wears a smartwatch so we can call him home from playing in the neighbourhood park, and there's a tanline on his wrist ike the one I haven't had since the age of fifteen. and I wonder: what will 2030 look like?

[satoritech]

Your iPhone charging cable is about to change as final Apple deadline to switch revealed

Your iPhone charging cable is about to change as final Apple deadline to switch revealed

APPLE will be forced to use a new charging port on iPhones by the end of 2024.EU lawmakers have finally set a deadline for when USB-C will have to be the universal cable for new smartphones. Read Full Text

[neoplatinum]

mission: gmag | kim minji

summary: coworkers fall in love, very oddly...

pairing: barista!minji x barista!reader

themes: HUMOR, coworkers to lovers, slow-burn, fluff...like tooth-rotting sweetness, rest of newjeans!, major loser reader

wc: 5.4k

"no, listen to me, it's M I N," sakura is so over this, honestly. but you promised to buy her a new controller for her switch if she helped you, so she goes through with it.

"m...i...n..." sakura types slowly as she scrolls with a glass of water in one hand.

"ji," you continue quickly.

"what was that?" she asks and looks up at you.

"j...i. j for james and i for like iphone, i dont know." sakura nods and returns back to typing.

"okay okay, minji.....minji...kim minji....i found her!" sakura flips her phone to show you the girl's instagram page.

you squint at sakura's shaky hands.

"stop, stop. I can't see with your hands shaking all over." sakura frowns at you and tries pulling her phone away. but you're quick to grab it out of your hands. feeling like you've hit the jackpot.

"yes! it's her!"

sakura rolls her eyes and grabs more chips from the coffee table, popping them into her mouth as you happily scroll through your coworker's public instagram page.

"you know you could just talk to her right? like at work...where you both work together in that cramped barista station."

"kkura, you really aren't helping." you mumble as you hit one of the posts of minji at the beach; she's smiling and showing off her cute brown dog. you had overheard minji talking with another worker about her family's brown mini poodle. "that must be choco."

"what i also don't understand is why you're looking her up, on MY phone. when you have a perfectly working phone." sakura continues to eat through the family size bag of lays.

you scoff and pull the blanket off of sakura's legs. "what if one day she asks me to exchange socials and she sees that i've searched her up already? i can't let that happen."

you roll your eyes like it's the most obvious reason.

"wow, i thought i was a loser, but this really takes the cake." she shakes at the bag for more lays and returns her attention to the show thats been playing in the background.

you pay sakura no mind as you now have found yourself happily going through her page. examining each post closely and even going through her tagged photos for more information.

"okay, stop, this is just creepy. you're like a cyber-stalker." sakura yanks her phone out of your hand and pushes your chest away to knock you off your balance. you topple over like a bowling pin. "don't forget you have to buy me new controllers for this!"

sakura leaves with her phone in hand, probably off to phone her friends, leaving you all alone in the apartment with whatever show's been playing.

"what a cockblock." you mutter out as you finish up the lays bag and crumple it, getting ready to go to bed. you let out a long yawn that turns into a groan until the air has left your lungs. now you're coughing like a mad man trying to drink water, you finally cool down.

--

"welcome to milk mocha!" minji shouts from behind the counters, you successfully arrive just shy of 15 minutes late for your shift.

"oh, you're here." minji comments when she looks up from behind the espresso machine and glances at you. you grimace at the dismissive tone, but all minji can see is your hair all over the place and shirt worn inside out and backwards.

needless to say, you pressed snooze a few times too many, and now you're paying the consequences.

"i am so so so sorry minji, i slept past my alarm." you beg for forgiveness and start spewing about how you tripped over your charging cable, accidentally burned your tongue during breakfast, wore wet socks. and minji's heard enough already.

"okay, lets just...get you set up. you're lucky it's slow right now." she ushered you into the staff room and your heart warms at how considerate she is. even feeling a little lovesick that she hasn't written you up for tardiness.

"you're the best minji!" you shout over your shoulder as you change into the work shirt and tie an apron around your waist. horrified to find the tag of your t-shirt facing the world.

you try brushing your hair as best as you can, then tucking into your work cap. you walk out onto the floor and see a few customers around. no one seems to be ordering and you thank the coffee gods for this opportunity.

"soooo minji...." you start, as you wipe down the counters.

"yes?" she's busy cleaning the machines in the meantime and checking that there's enough supplies in the mini fridge.

you turn to her and smile widely, "are you single?"

she stops what she's doing and turns to you. "yes, why do you ask?" in the most monotone voice you've ever heard.

you wonder if minji was a robot in her past life.

"oh, no reason, just curious, hehe." you mumble to yourself and minji looks at you confused but then a customer walks in.

"welcome to milk mocha! how can i help you?" you begin and take the guy's order.

minji's walked away to get ready for the lunch rush, but mostly to think about your question.

--

"hanni, listen to me, the girl's weird." minji says over facetime. hanni's laying on her back scrolling through instagram and nodding along to whatever minji's ranting about.

"mhm, mhm." hanni finds a cute cat video and sends it to haerin.

"she asked me today if i was single."

"mhm."

"and like, why would you ever ask your coworker that? i think that's weird, like she's crossing work boundaries you know?"

"mhm."

"bro! are you even listening?" minji starts tapping at the screen, taking hanni's attention away from the many cat videos.

"yes bro! something about being single?" hanni only spares her some attention before returning back to her cat videos.

"yes! she asked me if i was single!"

hanni looks back into the small rectangular box that minji is in, "okay, i dont see a problem."

haerin sends over a funny gif of fluffy dogs tripping. hanni laughs while minji continues to rant about her new coworker.

then a random notification pops up.

[hairein]: "HI ITS HYEIN HI HI HI"

hyein must have taken haerin's phone and has begun spamming through all the group chats that haerin has. hanni decides that's enough scrolling for a day.

hanni closes her instagram to focus on the conversation, also muting haerin's account for good measure.

"i don't think it's weird that she asked if you're single. if you find someone weird, then of course you're going to think everything they do is weird." hanni continues as she sits up and pulls her self to her desk.

minji goes quiet, thinking about her own views on her new coworker. she's between reasoning that it's okay that she thinks you're weird, but she also feels bad because maybe you two just got off on the wrong foot.

she's never considered giving you a real chance to prove yourself. when you walked in two weeks ago for your first shift with a huge staff in hand (you were going to a convention later cosplaying as maki from jjk) minji already knew to stay away from you.

it doesn't help that the other people at work also thought you were weird. later that shift, your manager reprimanded you for showing up to work with a weapon; you profusely apologized and tried to show that it was just a foam staff. all the other workers already looked at you weirdly though, so maybe minji just followed along.

"well now i feel bad." minji concludes as hanni watches her through the screen.

"good! be more open-minded next time." hanni concludes and hangs up on minji immediately. minji on the other end drops her jaw and curses hanni through the phone.

--

"order for jay!" you shout from the counter, wiping down the americano. minji's shift just started but you're already elbow deep in your shift. it seems that friday's are always busy at miilk mocha. everyone is scrambling to get these orders out as quick as possible.

you look more tired for today's shift, constantly rubbing at your eyes and yawning when no one's looking. kazuha seems concerned that you're so tired.

"hey, you okay?" kazuha asks when you sit down for a quick break. you nod.

"yeah stayed up playing genshin, you know how things go." you explain and continue rubbing at your eyes. hitting a little too hard that it makes you see stars when you blink.

"you need to stop playing till 4am, you know you have a shift at 7." kazuha explains to you, she's already working on the next order. you take a breather and sip on the coffee you made for yourself.

"it's not my fault that game is so addicting." you explain and stretch your body, getting ready to take on the rest of the orders. minji finally fixes her apron and walks out to see you and kazuha chatting it up.

minji tries inserting herself into the conversation, hoping to see a new side of you that isn't so...peculiar.

"what's genshin?"

"minji! you don't know what genshin is?" you exclaim and begin going on a long rant about the game and it's gacha mechanics. you even begin explaining the pulls you have gotten. by the end of it, minji is even more confused and intrigued by you, also worried about your financial responsibility (lack of) because you really just dropped 300 bucks for in-game content.

--

"how are things with the new girl?" hanni's eating her sandwich and minji can't help but feel down.

minji scratches her neck as she thinks about you, "she's good...explained to me the lore of genshin, and then i found out that the staff that she brought to work on her first day was actually for a cosplay outfit, and not just a weapon she carries around."

hanni nods and grabs minji's drink, taking a sip out of it, "so, she's not that weird, just probably made a poor impression."

"yes, you were right." minji sighs and digs into her sandwich, feeling guilty about making presumptions about you.

"hey, cheer up! it's okay, i had a horrible impression of you when i first met you." hanni drinks the rest of juice and lets out a satisfied "ah." until she realizes it wasn't her drink to begin with.

minji just glares at her, "you better pay me back for that."

"see this is why i didn't like you at first." hanni complains but fishes out a five dollar bill and slaps it into minji's hand.

--

"order for macy." you grab the hot chocolate and place it on the counter. a cute little girl with pigtails walks up to the counter and grabs the hot chocolate, standing on her tippy toes. you look over the counter and aw at the cute kid.

"hi macy, want to see my latte art?" you offer, macy nods enthusiastically, you grin before grabbing the frothing cup and doing a nice rosetta for the girl.

she smiles in awe and you laugh, handing her a free cookie for staying, "don't tell anyone i gave you this, okay?" you offer your pinky finger to the small girl. she pinky swears and tucks the cookie into her jacket pocket before leaving with her hot chocolate in hand.

minji's watching the whole interaction and despite being shift manager and wanting to reprimand you for giving out free sweets to customers without asking firsthand, she doesn't have the heart to ruin the sweet act you just did.

in fact, when you find her staring at you, you let out a sheepish laugh and try to move past the fact you gave away a free cookie.

--

"minji! do you want a burger, or hot dog?" you ask, you've officially dedicated yourself the grill master at the company barbecue. the other employees are busy chatting each other up, but you're manning the grill with a coke zero in hand, and expertly making everyone's orders.

"burger, please." minji walks away from her conversation to watch over you, surprisingly you're good at manning the grill, despite still finding way to trip over nothing during work.

this side is actually quite charming, even if you have those ridiculous frog sunglasses over your eyes.

"how are you doing?" minji asks, she peers over the grill and finds rows and rows of burger patties and hot dogs on the other side. you're expertly checking each burger for doneness and rolling hot dogs to ensure even cooking.

"doing great! all patties and hot dogs are coming out delicious and hot hot hot!" you explain. you turn to her and all she can see are those goofy frog glasses on your face. you give her a smirk before turning back to the grill. "first burger that's done is yours to take, by the way."

minji blushes at the sentiment. "you really don't have to do that. everyone should eat first."

"no can do minji, got to make sure you're well fed." you explain and continue flipping burgers while drinking your coke zero. minji finds it adorable how focused you are at this job, even if no one is expecting stellar quality burgers/hot dogs.

"watch out minji!" your head turns faster and you see a football flying your way, definitely going to hit minji on the head, so you block her from the football, having it land straight into your forehead.

"oof." you land backwards and fall to the grass, now rubbing your forehead from the hit. the other coworkers are running up and checking on you, meanwhile all you can do is ask, "you alright minji? it didn't hit you right?"

she blushes wildly at the question and whispers a quiet "i'm good." while you are being pulled off the ground and everyone asks how you're doing. you make jokes, playing it off, saying you were born with a head harder than bricks. everyone laughs and returns back to what they were doing.

"okay, back to the grill." you brush off the dirt all over your apron, and start humming a song while plating finished burgers, handing the first one to minji. "for you!" you tell minji and she gives a thank you before walking away to eat it.

the rest of the barbecue, minji seems to stick by your side throughout the day. this doesn't go unnoticed by kazuha who saw the whole ordeal. her eyes squinting as she sips on her drink.

--

"zuha zuha! i'm tired!" you exclaim, you're working the earliest shift, you were opener and on food prep for the shift. it's near the middle of your shift when you decide to take your break. both kazuha and minji are busy tending to the coffee shop. you sit on a step stool behind the counter to eat a cold croissant from one of the failed batches.

"go walk around or something, you need to get your blood pumping." she explains and goes into depth about the stretches that would promote blood flow and restore energy to your body. you aren't interested in hearing actual solutions, just wanting to vent.

"no! you can't tell me what to do!" you grumble and stuff more of the croissant in your face, even picking out the ham slice to eat separately. minji finds this all a bit weird, as in weird in her stomach kind of weird. the same kind of weird she feels when someone takes the last bag of chips in the convenience store when she goes up to buy it.

she watches how kazuha is so easily able to grab you by the arm, a boundary that she would never cross. and kazuha is pushing you into the backrooms, while you make kissy faces at kazuha, all of which are being dodgeds left and right. "you love me zuha, just admit it!" you shout before the door is closed on you.

kazuha walks back out to the barista station and smiling at minji before continuing to work, "she's something else." minji just nods and tries to will away that nasty feeling in her gut.

"you know she's my cousin right?" kazuha continues, minji stops what she's doing.

"no, i didn't. wow that makes a lot of sense actually." minji explains, kazuha just laughs at her shocked face.

"yeah, just thought you should know." kazuha winks at minji before returning to her espresso machine. minji is confused by the wink, but it's too late to ask; kazuha is already busy in work mode. the feeling in her stomach quells a bit.

--

"what are you looking for?" minji jumps at the sudden voice behind her. you're peering over her shoulder as she holds the walk-in door open.

"you scared me!" minji exclaims and hits you on the shoulder, leading you to pout and rub at your shoulders.

"sorry, bad habit of mine." you explain, "so, what are you looking for?"

minji's still looking around for food that she can eat. she had the great idea of waking up an hour later today, only to find out that hanni already ate her work lunch with a measly 'sorry! i'll pay you back :)) ~hanni' scribbled over a sticky note taped to the fridge door. minji groaned and sped off to get to work on time, completely forgoing a lunch.

"hopefully lunch, hanni ate my lunch."

"you have a bunny named hanni?" you question, trying to look for food in the walk-in.

"no, i have a roommate named hanni, she always steals my food, claims it tastes better than her own food." minji sighs and looked at different rows for hopefully another lone croissant or even a cookie. "is there really no food in here?"

"probably not, since shipment's tomorrow and we've had a busy week." you explain but then you pull your phone out, making a quick call.

"yes one order of a club sandwich, with chips and a cookie please...thank you!" you speak into the phone, minji's confused but you smile at her when she looks at you confused. "okay thank you, can I pick it up now?" and then you hang up the phone.

"what was that?" minji questions but you've already darted out of the walk-in, and minji's hot on your trail watching you run out of the store and make a quick beeline to the deli store around the corner, with your work cap and work apron on. minji laughs at your antics, but her heart warms at the sentiment.

minji returns back into the coffee shop. she might as well wait for you to return so she opens her phone.

[minmin]: new girl bought me lunch

[hanbunny]: you're kidding. even i wouldn't do that.

[minmin]: of course you wouldn't you ate my work lunch!

[minmin]: literally this is all your fault >:(

[hanbunny]: hey, new girl literally is buying you lunch, i think im being a great wingwoman actually, my genius should never be doubted :>

[minmin]: shut up.

[minmin]: also pay me back.

you return breathing heavy but with a brown takeout bag in front of minji's face. minji puts her phone away as she grabs the bag, surprised to see all the things you ordered in the bag. "you really didn't have to do this, how much was it?"

"free 99, don't pay me back minji. it's a thank you for all times you've covered for me when i was late to work." you stretch your legs and sit down next to minji, watching her enjoy the food that you bought.

"want some?" minji splits half her sandwich.

"sure!" you happily grab at the half presented to you and chew happily; minji just laughs at the sight. you remind her of a dog in the way you're so energetic and food driven.

"well if you won't let me pay you back, can i cook you dinner?" minji takes a leap of faith and turns to you, your mouth drops open and you nod intensely, almost choking on the sandwich but finally swallowing the bite.

"yes! i would be honored to try your cooking." you offer as you bite into the sandwich again.

minji smiles at that, "it's a date then."

--

"no, kkura, listen. she said 'it's a date then', but like i don't actually think it's one." you explain while sakura's playing resident evil. her focus being taken up by this new development but also the anxiety from how scary the game is.

"okay, so it's a date." she echos back, moving her head away from the screen.

"but i don't think it is. you know how some people just say it's a date, but it turns out it's just a friend date?" you explain and groan into sakura's plushies.

"no, not really." sakura continues, jumping when a random NPC shows up on the screen's peripheral.

"i just don't want to make it seem like i read it wrong." you explain, toying with the feet of the duck plushie. "what if i the overread it and bring roses to a friend date, you know? then she would think i'm weird and not want to be friends with me. which is fine! but i really would like this to be a date."

"listen kid, just ask her directly if it's a friend date or more. it's easy." sakura explains plainly, frankly you've been going through this back and forth for the past fifteen minutes and sakura's had enough.

you freak out, taking a sharp intake, "absolutely not! that would ruin the mood, then i would look like i'm making her look like an idiot, and minji is not an idiot." you explain.

"i gave you the best advice i got, if you're not going to take it then leave."

"kkura pleaseeee, i need a better way to figure this out."

"nope, not hearing it, good luck!" sakura tunes you out, putting her headphones back on and locking in.

you walk out with sakura's duck plushie still in your hands, if she won't give you good advice then you're taking her belongings.

--

you give yourself some words of encouragement as you knock on her apartment door. behind this door was the living space of your crush and you were sweating, rocking on your feet back and forth in anticipation.

"hello! you're minji's coworker right?" the door opens quickly, and a shorter girl stands before you; she is definitely not minji.

"yes, and you're hanni?" you question to which she nods, excitedly welcoming you into their home. it's what you would expect of minji's living space, very light cream and brown colors all over the living space.

"hanni! i told you to let me answer the door!" minji rushes out of her room, with a cute top on and her hair done in cute braids framing her face, you think she looks gorgeous.

"well minji, it's rude to keep a guest waiting." hanni laughs and smiles at minji weirdly, giving her a quick wink and a pat on her shoulders before disappearing into her room, "it was nice to meet you!"

"you too!" you shout as hanni closes her door.

minji feathers through her hair, and directs you to take off your jacket. you're looking around and you spot minji's work clogs by the shoe rack, and laugh at the sight.

"sorry about hanni, she's usually not so enthusiastic." minji's leading you over to the kitchen where you can see her dinner being cooked. you smile at the delicious smells invading your nose.

"not at all, she seems very nice." you reply back and settle into one of the bar stools.

minji stands awkwardly, confused on how this date should go. "would you like anything to drink? we have water, juice, coke zero, wine-"

"coke zero." you decide, and minji laughs remembering your obsession with that specific drink, no other kind of coke.

"okay, coke zero it is." she hands you the drink to which you happily start drinking, even letting out a large burp, "excuse me."

minji just laughs and finishes stirring the pasta and plating them on the table, it's your favorite, carbonara. you thank the pasta gods for this delicious meal and start to dig in.

minji really hopes the pasta she made tastes good, "how is it?"

"so delicious, better than any pasta i've had before!" you are definitely enjoying the meal as you are finished with the plate before minji can even eat half of hers.

"can i have seconds?"

minji laughs, "of course."

you give yourself another bowl of pasta, happily chatting about interests, you find out that minji's a bit of a audiophile, enjoying all kinds music. she's speaking about her passions but you keep eyeing the stray hair on her cheek. so you reach out and pick it off if minji's face causing her to blush and glow red.

"thank you." she's back to the more reserved minji that you see whenever she's embarrassed. her hands are closed over each other.

"thank you for dinner by the way, you really didn't have to cook me dinner." you say in between bites. you appreciate the girl's kindness; you just can't tell if this is really a date. "i brought flowers by the way!" you go back to your bag and pull out pink carnations.

minji blushes at the gesture, finding it cute that you even thought to bring flowers. she grabs a vase and starts filling it to place the flowers that you have brought, she can't seem to contain her happiness. smiling wildly and then she feels her phone vibrate in her pocket.

[hanbunny]: hey

[hanbunny]: did you two kiss yet?

[hanbunny]: danielle's here too btw

[hanbunny]: hi minji! danielle here! i think your outfit is so cute <3333

[hanbunny]: anyways, hanni here, make a move by the end of the date, if you don't i don't have to pay you back for the lunch i stole

[hanbunny]: love you, good luck!

minji knew the two girls were up to something suspicious, hanni kept demanding that danielle come over earlier in the afternoon. she did not expect the two to be spying on her and your date. minji mutes hanni's conversation, turning to you.

"want to watch a movie?" minji asks as she walks over to the couch. you decide on the lego movie, claiming that it's been your favorite for years, and minji doesn't have the heart to tell you she finds it embarrassing to watch.

you both are enjoying it; well, mostly you are enjoying the movie, and minji's enjoying you enjoying the movie. you tend to recite the lines quietly when you know a long dialogue is coming up, or you clap when you find a scene enjoyable.

minji finds herself relaxing into the date, you seem preoccupied enough with the movie that she goes up to make some popcorn for herself. as she waits for the popcorn, she spots hanni's door cracked open. spotting two sets of eyes watching minji.

minji turns back towards the tv, happy that you haven't discovered the two. "i'm going to the bathroom." minji shouts. you give her a thumbs up and an okay, minji turns to hanni's room.

both girls are eyes wide seeing minji stalk towards them, trying to shut the door but minji's too strong, barging into the room, with hanni tumbling backwards into danielle. both of them sprawled out on hanni's carpet.

"you two have been spying us this whole time?" minji whisper shouts at them. quickly shutting the door behind her.

"i'm sorry!" danielle squeaked out while hanni glared at minji.

"you have nothing to be sorry about dani, minji here just doesn't understand that we are emotional support for her first date!" hanni explains, getting up to sit on her bed.

minji groans and looks around, seeing a giant corkboard filled with poorly shot photos of you and her at work, red string pinned criss crossing all over the board, as if this were a murder case.

"hanni, what is this?" minji nearly shouts, she's horrified to see photos of herself eyeing you or the other way around. hanni simply smiles at her work.

"this is my board for mission: GMAG." she explains proudly, "stands for mission: get minji a girlfriend."

"you have got to be kidding me." minji looks all over the board, trying not to be upset at hanni. she understands the girl is just looking out for her, but this is all a bit much.

"this wasn't my idea!" danielle explains, minji knows that danielle would never do something like this. so she glares at hanni instead, the girl just smirks and points at the board instead.

"whatever, just don't make a peep, i need to get back to this date." minji explains and closes the door behind her, leaving the two alone.

"sorry that took so long." minji walks into the living room, seeing you happily invested in the movie. you smile at her, and pat the seat next to you, inviting her to join you.

"no worries, movie's good!" you explain. even though minji might not completely love the lego movie, she is enjoying being around you and spending time with you. also find it cute that you dropped a blanket over her as she got comfortable.

you recognize the final portion of the movie, "this is my favorite part, minji." you explain to her how cool the collaboration of lego fans and the production cast were. giving her insight on the movie that she definitely did not know. she ends up kissing you through your avid explanation, with your hands all over the place.

you thank the heavens she made the first move because you were worried this was a friend date. minji turns shy at the action, a little shocked by her own boldness. she shifts away from you and avoids your eye contact.

"minji, you just kissed me." you say, a little slow on the pick up. your brain is trying to catch up to what just happened. minji just nods, seemingly invested in the ending credits.

"did you mean to?" you ask, pushing her shoulder a bit.

"yes." she says and you can see her ears getting all red from the embarrassment.

"oh thank god, because i wasn't sure if this was a friend date or romantic date, i mean obviously i wanted it to be a romantic date, but i really wasn't sure if it was. i asked my roommate for help, but she was no help. she told me to ask you if this was a more than a friendly date, and i was like nuh uh no way i am going to ask minji that." you trail on and on, a nervous habit you picked up whenever you didn't know what to say next.

minji kisses you a second time. and you stop talking. "it's definitely more than a friend kind of date." she reaffirms your suspicions and you let out a little laugh. you pull her into a hug, before grabbing her face and giving her a kiss as well.

"i want to kiss you more often." you say.

"yeah?"

"yeah." you conclude proudly.

hanni and danielle are still in hanni's room with their ears against the gap of the door. and then you hear a loud squeal followed by a loud crash. you turn to minji and she immediately groans.

"hanni!" minji shouts. it's silent for a couple seconds until you hear a timid muffled voice. and out comes two girls from hanni's room. you're shocked because you completely forgot about hanni, and to now learn that there was another girl too makes you even more confused.

"hi minji, hello minji's lover." hanni smirks at you, while you hide yourself behind minji.

"hanni stop." minji groans out.

"what? mission: gmag is a success from what i can see." hanni gives you a wink, you feel oddly exposed by the action. meanwhile, hanni's friend is just smiling and nodding at you. you feel a little less worried with her.

as minji and her two friends head back into hanni's room to assess the aftermath caused by the troublemakers. you sit back, scratching your head and munching on popcorn. puzzled by hanni's interest in you.

minji returns with a smile, and casually suggests, "another movie?"

"lego movie part 2?" you ask with a grin.

--

a/n: wrote this in a very silly goofy mood. this piece was only supposed to be around 2k originally...anyways, stay safe and stay healthy everyone!

[totothewolff]

Season of Love (1/?)

+18 | Toto x reader fem!teamprincipal, romance, comedy, and some good drama.

Summary: One night on a pier in Monaco, while admiring the sea under the night skies, you tell Toto: "I came to the conclusion that love is simply not meant for me." That's the answer to a question you have been asking yourself for the longest time. But what if he proved you wrong? Author's note: Hi, fam! I'm nervous since this is my very first fanfic. I have been following this tag for a while now, and I got so inspired by all the talent here that I went and wrote my own story. Please be kind to me. English is my second language. I will upload chapters regularly - using this hashtag and on #seasonoflovefic. I have been dealing with anxiety the entire year; writing this has been part of my healing process. I hope you like it. By the way, this story is fun and light-spirited.

< Masterlist | Next chapter >

Dances with Wolff Arc Chapter 1: Engines on and hearts off!

Bahrain

It is a hot and sunny day in Bahrain. Golden hour is set, and every single person in the paddock seems to be in a rush. It is the usual chaos every pre-season brings.

Toto makes his way through the sea of people, cables, tire carts, and cameras at his regular pace - which means those toned and long legs going full speed - rocking this year's Mercedes kit and a new pair of designer sunglasses, phone in hand when it buzzes.

—Breaking news: After lengthy negotiations during the break, the De Vos Group acquired Williams Racing - as speculated. New female owner Y/N De Vos will be joining the paddock this season. The team's principal will soon be announced. Check our exclusive first look with her.

Toto reads on his iPhone after tapping the Sky Sports push notification, slowing his pace a second. He raises an eyebrow and gazes around, noticing many people in the packed pitlane doing the same, slowing the frenzy on the floor for a close bit. 

He reaches out for his pockets and puts on the Bose earbuds before hitting the play button. Curiosity is overpowering him - and, honestly, excitement, too - as he looks at the preview thumbnail. A stunning, tan-skinned woman with great, shiny hair and a beautiful smile appears in front of the microphone with a smug smirk.

—God, she's gorgeous —Toto lets out to himself. Continuing his way to the Mercedes garage. This year, it is located one spot before Williams and following Ferrari's.

Finally, something exciting, someone new. After years of dominating the game, trying not to sound too egomaniac, every season starts to feel like routine to him. Toto is hitting a personal low, avoiding calling it what it is: depression mixed with boredom, especially this season and at this moment in his life. Same old tracks, same old challenges, same old people, same old ways, same old Toto.

You answer the interviewer's questions with ease. You are very well-spoken in his eyes like you are used to doing press or public speaking, and you have a cheeky sense of humor. Toto gets captivated, to say the least. He puts his phone into his back pocket and continues walking while listening to your interview, muffling the paddock's noise.

You have a soft voice, a professional speech pattern, and excellent enunciation, reinforcing Toto's idea of you being trained at it. He detects some accent but can't figure out where it is from. He listens to the whole thing; it's impossible for him not to sigh at the stupid questions they ask you a couple of times. The more Toto listens, the more questions he has for you in his mind. He may get them answers later when he finally meets you.

So far, you seem like a breeze of fresh air, and Toto is desperate to breathe you.

And yeah, no question Williams looks different. Toto, as usual, ventures to inspect more than he should - and is allowed to - taking a good peek at your brand-new garage. Knowing quite well, he also is hoping to spot you in person.

The garage looks tech and minimalistic, matching your new modern W logo. Whites, blacks, and touches of grey colors predominated. The lighting, screens, and interior design look so futuristic, expensive, and dope; it's a whole vibe. It is a sexy garage! A phrase he never imagined using. What F1 has done to a man?

Toto can feel the desperate modernity Williams once needed and the resources. Of course, he knew firsthand the Williams family was looking to sell after years of struggling to win races and its economics. Toto remained neutral throughout the process, informed but not too involved. He had felt a little indifferent about the entire ordeal till now. 

He hopes not to sound insensitive. Of course, he has a special place in his heart for that team and its people, he first started there, but the businessman side of him knows it is the right call and best for them. Of course, it's sad, but that is the game: evolve or die.

He knows his investment is in good hands because last he had heard, and in Niki's words, it got acquired by a Belgian zillionaire, and Niki reassured him it was a perfect choice. He was respectable and trustworthy, and Toto didn't need to know more. But this sudden change - and announcement - took him a bit by surprise. Little did he know.

-

Gossip and theories fill the paddock. Supporters and haters - already - are all over social media, typing divided opinions as usual. It is the talk of the town, and you, you are the center of it at this point; there is more to come.

Toto greets his team on his way to his chair, already inside Merc's garage after doing his little on-site research. A couple of pats on the back and hugs later, he makes himself comfortable in his spot while catching up with Bono. 

Just as Toto is about to place the headphones on his head, the corner of his eyes caught Samanta, better known as "Sam" - a beautiful, thin, young, pale-skin, platinum blondie - Niki's assistant, hugging you goodbye and walking towards him. 

You wave Niki hello from afar and on your way to the W garage.

For the briefest moment, Toto's eyes and yours met. You are more petite than he expects. And you dress very classy and minimal but with a sexy touch. You match the new identity of Williams, or well, Williams matches your style. The Jacquemus "La robe saudade" dress you wear hugs your curves, accentuating your beautiful toned legs and great ass. He couldn't avoid staring you down as you walked past. Sometimes, he was just a simple man.

Toto suddenly feels the Arabic heat rushing through his body.

—Getting up close with the enemy, tearing down its walls, I like your style, evil as I would expect from you —he says to Sam, now next to him, as she takes off her access badge and picks up her tablet from a drawer.

—Bok, dumb. No bad blood! Just a friendly welcome to this testosterone hell, you know, girls being supportive of one another. I'm pretty sure you will like her, and judging by that look you just gave her, I guess you already.

—Začepi, dumber —Toto answers in his usual authoritarian and collected deep voice, but jokingly. He feels his cheeks turning red. —Spill how, when…

—We were roomies a long time ago. I adore her, she's great, strong, intelligent, kind, fun, and so damn hot. That's all you need to know for now, and that's all I'm telling you.

Sam is the youngest daughter of the Dobrev heirs, a very wealthy and old-money Croatian - almost royal - family who owns multiple fleets and half the country, like filthy rich. They are famous for being all platinum blondes, having many scandals, and investing in motor and water sports. They are one of the main Mercedes-AMG sponsors. 

As far as Toto knows, Sam doesn't have the best relationship with her family and dislikes talking about it, but he knows she cares a lot about her elder brother, to whom Toto hears her speak on the phone now and then.

After years and years of working and traveling the world together, Sam lets her walls down with Toto, becoming great friends and this sort of family away from family, although she remains pretty reserved on some subjects. He loves her like a little sister. She is pretty younger than him and sometimes reminds him of his own sister. Niki always describes them two as his annoying children, always teasing and bickering at each other when possible. The old man cares so much for them personally and at work, and they do, too.

Toto wonders if by "old roomie" she means ex-girlfriend? He has met some of Samanta's "roomies," and… Toto doesn't feel like pushing. He wonders if you may have someone... You know... As team principal, he has to learn about other teams' dynamics, right?

He tosses the thought off and gets in the zone. They have another title to win.

-

You hug Samanta goodbye and take a glance at the Merc garage. Sam is family to you, and you heard so much about them and F1 over the years, ever since she moved out of the Manor after having that massive fight with her parents and started working for Mercedes-AMG, swearing to make a living of her own and never needing them EVER again, a bit over dramatic reaction but that who Sam is and you love her that way. 

She is also your bestie; you two text each other daily. Thanks to her, you knew everything about everyone in the paddock: the good and bad, scandals, and more. Yet they knew nothing about you. For them, you are brand new and the perfect excuse to gossip about.

And there he is, Torger Christian Wolff, the guy Sam couldn't stop gushing you about. Damn, she is right, Toto is gorgeous. You would feel slightly jealous of their closeness if he wasn't Sam's cup of tea. But you can't get distracted; you have a purpose for being there, and nothing will get in the middle. Even if you are dying to meet him, even if you treasure every detail you know about Toto, even if you have been fantasizing about him for the longest time, not to mention being half in love with the man already or the idea of him. Sam made him sound like such a remarkable and caring human being. 

Niki waves hello to you from afar, and you wave back. You adore that old man. He is one of the reasons why the Williams family agreed to sell you the team. Without his support, it wouldn't have been possible.

You met Niki two winters ago; thanks to Sam, you explained to him your motives and why you wanted to buy a team, and he fully agreed to support you and mentor you throughout the whole process. He is a badass and one of the kindest people you have ever met. You immediately felt embraced by the Laudas. Along with Sam, they are among the very few people who know your entire story and genuinely know you, the real you. 

Back to the present day. You feel Toto's dark eyes set on you and can't resist ignoring them even if your life depends on it, so you look back at him. For the briefest moment, your eyes met. The desert is too hot, isn't it? Uff, what's going on with this heat? Damn you global warming! 

So you better hurry yourself away before it is too late and you dare to get closer to him. You reach your new team's garage at the speed of light, so it is fittable for the place you are at. It feels weird saying "your" so much. 

Everything is so different from the world you are used to, but you don't feel nervous. You are a woman on a mission, and after all you have gone through in life, you are not that kind of girl. You bear a challenge.

You greet your team. —He hasn't arrived yet? —you ask the aero performance engineer while he is placing green and yellow dots on the left side of the new car. You reached close to inspect the latest upgrades.

The car is beautiful, matte black with a powerful Lamborghini engine. They are your main sponsor and partner and the only one, which is insanely impressive. No million logos, no visual noise - it is something to see due to F1 budgets. 

Commotion and gasps come from the outside. While you ask the engineer that question, a frenzy starts in the front of the garages. You watch camerapersons and fans pass by, running crazy. Total mayhem.

Oh, there he is.

-

Toto's phone buzzes again - in the middle of that circus - "Breaking news; The legend is BACK. Michael Schumacher joins Williams as Team Principal, son Mick Schumacher, and the sensation of the moment, female driver Millie Dobrev joins him along as drivers."

The FIA, in its many attempts to be perceived as "forward" or "woke," has allowed for the first time mixed-gender racing, starting this season - about damn time! Millie is one of the top female drivers and the youngest, achieving a lot at a young age and becoming a serious threat to everyone on her way. 

—Dobrev… Dobrev?! —Toto looks from the photo on his phone screen to Sam and back; a very young petite girl - with sun-kissed skin, short platinum blonde hair with pink ends and clear blue eyes, a round face with delicate features - poses in a pastel color outfit doing a Korean heart gesture with her hands, fingers full of expensive jewelry. —Care to explain?

—Yes, did I mention she's my dear niece? —Sam answers, deadpan.

—The fuck —Toto says —Are all blond Croatians your family? —Toto teases.

—Hilariously accurate —she laughs it off.

—Your niece?! You are like twelve, how old is she, two!? Can't believe you are an aunt already. I don't know what to do with that fact..."

Samanta rolls her eyes. "Thank my gross old uncle with a young trophy wife?" she thinks.

—So you keep secrets from me, huh? I thought ours was special.

—You give yourself too much importance. And yes, that's why my hair grew bigger during the break. It's full of secrets! —Sam replies. Swinging her long, straight locks.

—What??? —Toto doesn't get her Mean Girls reference.

—Sometimes I forget you are prehistoric, almost fossil.

They both fulminate each other with gazes in a classic and frequent stare-down. Then Sam proceeds to cross tasks on her tablet, slowly stepping away.

—Don't you dare run away from me! You have things to explain, missy.

—Sorry, I'm so busy right now, unlike you.

—I'm busy.

—No, you are not; you are trying to gossip!

—I'm always busy. I'm this team's principal, to remind you, so yes, I'm important, and maybe… maybe… I'm trying to gossip… a little bit —Toto gestures with his hand.

—Could you two stop?! —Niki calls it quits, half annoyed, half laughing, struggling to hear clearly what the tactics team is trying to tell him, turning around on his barstool and waving his hand at them.

Toto and Sam laugh softly, and Toto makes a small O with his mouth while Sam pretends to adjust her invisible tie before returning to business and being professional people doing professional tasks.

Toto looks once more at his phone screen. —Impressive —it's all he lets out. Toto can't wait. He can't wait.

-

It's been a long time since Michael set foot on the paddock, after years of being retired and living almost exclusively to recover - after his infamous accident - and trying to enjoy being a father and a husband when possible. He became this mythical figure that existed in F1 and people's minds but is nowhere to be seen, making him feel like a ghost. Nowadays, he is doing way better but was getting bored of being a recluse at home waiting for the right moment, for that one sign that make it all start over for him. 

And there she is, in front of him, doing a fake courtesy.

—Welcome back, Kaiser —you joke with him.

—Hi, boss! —Michael greets you with a thick German accent and sweet voice. —Sorry about that! —He pushes you aside as a photographer flashes photos. The lens almost hits you in the face while two other cameramen bump into each other. —Better if we go inside. There's lots to talk about and to get ready to start testing. This is bonkers! —he finishes saying, looking at the circus surrounding you two.

—Okay. Let's go then, Schumi —you reply to him.

You feel ready.

-

The testing goes out smoothly for Mercedes. There are just a few sensor improvements and small details to fix, but only a little to worry about. Lewis and George seem happy with their car's performance, and the team feels optimistic.

As for Toto, his day was stressful; he felt exhausted after many meetings and people asking him questions all day, demanding his attention at all times. The hours went at an alarming speed. Somehow, the day is done, but the amount of work has just started. He blinks and is dark already, and the chauffeur is now driving him to his suite in a high-end hotel.

Tomorrow is a crucial day for the team, and his schedule is full of press, too. So he needs a good night of beauty sleep; at the moment, he looks like trash and feels like it. Toto likes to keep it real. He loves the attention of being under the reflectors and calling the shots but still isn't a massive fan of media day.

Speaking of the devil, he takes out his phone and opens his news app. Toto relaxes in the big luxury car seat. He has bookmarked several sites that cover F1, his long, unhealthy habit. He likes to stay current, even if he has "briefing" and a person in charge of doing that.

Even though he doesn't want to feel like a stalker, he pretty much is acting like it. Toto refreshes the app to read the latest news about Williams and you. He learns all he can of you from the newly released press articles; there is little about your background, past, or in general; all he keeps reading appears to be PR-approved since it is constantly reprised on different platforms, which feels weird.

Google doesn't offer him much either, just a couple of articles with photos in which you appear in various charity events related to children's foundations. It is like you don't exist online.

Toto reads your most recent interview and Michael's, and you both appear in good spirits about your car performance. He hates losing but loves a good challenge. A good old-fashioned on-track battle. For a change.

-

The bellboy opens the suite's double doors for him and carries Toto's things inside. It is a massive entrance and makes him feel tiny in comparison. Toto notices a small LV suitcase in front of the large door, next to a big antique wooden carved table, in the middle of the foyer under the soft dim coming from a stunning Tiffany's chandelier, which lits the room and reflects on the exquisite tile walls. The Arabic architecture and interior design of the place are breathtaking.

It means Susie has stopped by. Their relationship is in a weird spot, in one of those hiccups they face occasionally after dating forever and from a very young age. Their relationship at the moment feels monotonous, and love is lacking, which is slowly killing him. He still loves her very much but could sense he is losing her. Especially since they started seeing each other less and less - although he wouldn't blame anyone who has to bear with his crazy schedule - they almost stopped texting and talking to each other, too, and sex is nonexistent. So many red flags.

—Hi, schatzi —Toto greets her.

—Hi, Toto —she gives him a quick kiss. —You look tired.

—I am, but I'm happy you are here —he says, wrapping his arms around her waist and resting his temple on hers. Soon after, he lifts Sussie from the ground into a tight hug. There is a clear height difference.

—I know. I'm happy to see you too, even if it's for a brief moment. I was hoping you got free sooner. Our jet has permission to take off in an hour exactly.

—I'm sorry, today was crazy —Toto apologizes.

—I can imagine. I tried to communicate with you earlier, but it was impossible to reach you; it was almost like you were avoiding me.

God, she knows him so well. Yes, he has been avoiding her - although not today, he honestly had a crazy day - but since they had that awkward and hurtful conversation at their New Year's Eve reception at their house in Oxford. Not because he is angry at her or scared, he misses her a lot. It's just he has been unable to decide and come up with an answer to the situation.

—I wanted to clear things out between us before the start of the season. I'm aware that from now on, you only get busier and more challenging to reach, and my schedule this year is also insane, Sussie says.

—Yes, love. Tell me what you need?

—Your thoughts.

—On what? —Toto pretends to be confused and not get what she is referring to. 

—Come on, Torger. Would you like me to remind you of our last conversation at New Year's?

Silence.

The last time they saw each other in person was months ago. He panicked after that conversation and left for Austria, calling it a business trip and a visit to his sister to spend time with his nephews. She didn't follow him around. Because it was clear he was running away and needed time alone without her.

—So... as I mentioned to you that night... You wanted to try for children this year, and I let you know I didn't see that happening this year or any year. And that I have been feeling increasingly lonely since you spent most of your days away. Honestly, every day, we spend more time away from each other. My career keeps taking off, and I'm not raising children on my own amidst it! I can't even imagine the idea of being pregnant to start with! Plus, you said there's no way you are quitting your job, and I'm neither, so...

—I didn't say that. That's not how it went —Toto feels his head hurting now. He rubs his forehead, exasperated hearing Sussie's Director's Cut version of the events. "It went more like this: I don't get your full attention at all times like before, I'm not able to control you as I once did, and every time you ask me to spend time together, me traveling to you or you traveling to me, if it's not the way I want it I always come up with something to avoid it. Plus, I never mentioned to you before that I didn't want children, not once in the thousand times we discussed family and raising kids together, ah! And I always blame your job as the reason why things aren't working between us." That's how it happened, Toto thinks.

—The point is... —Sussie ignores him. Throwing him a look. —We didn't reach a middle ground but chose not to break things off immediately because none of us felt sure.

There is a pause and a big exhale from her. 

—That's why I suggested exploring having an open relationship. We would establish rules and limits. I know you are more traditional and don't envision this for us, but I wanted you to think about it and give it a chance, not to run away and avoid me after suggesting it. I don't want to hurt you. I don't want to be with someone else behind your back because I still love you, and I want us to work. I feel we both need someone who is present in our lives to touch us and hold us when we feel like it. 

Toto feels crushed. All he wants is to settle down, start a family, and become a good father - as his father was to him - he never expected Sussie to go in the opposite direction. His intention has never been to make her choose between a career or kids. This isn't the case. It is going to be a two-person job. Besides that, they have all the privileges, resources, and support to successfully achieve being both parents and having careers simultaneously. —This isn't the right moment for this conversation. I had an...

—It's never the right moment for you! Christ's sake, Toto! I..! —Sussie starts losing it and gets emotional. He can't avoid feeling miserable. Suddenly, Toto felt the day's weight on his shoulders and back, which was killing him now; he needed a soft mattress to lay down so desperately. He doesn't want to make the drama bigger.

—Okay, easy, love —he hugs her. —I will think about it and give you an answer this week.

—You promise? Won't you run away from it anymore?

—I promise. I won't.

—This week, Toto! —Sussie wipes her tears, hugs him once more, and kisses him goodbye. —Let me know.

—Yes, this week. I will.

She grabs her suitcase and exits through the doors. Toto drags himself to bed with the remains of his energy, tosses his phone on the wireless charger nightstand, and lets himself drop on the mattress, face down. As he drifts away, a new notification red dot appears in the news app.

Now, an open relationship looks like an acceptable idea.

He falls asleep.

-

The view from your suite is impressive. Bahrain's entire skyline of modern skyscrapers is lit under the night skies, and the desert surrounding it looks beautiful through the floor-to-ceiling panoramic windows. 

It isn't your first time in Western Asia, but your first time traveling so far from home on your own. This hotel is insanely expensive, and the suite is humongous for you by yourself. If you weren't so used to inhabiting a massive, almost empty Manor with you as your own company, you would have felt anxious in such an isolated, huge, and quiet space. 

It is already late at night to text Samanta and meet her to chat. You both have work tomorrow and need to rest. But you have so much to catch up on - since yesterday? - No, but seriously, a lot had happened during your first day at the paddock.

As you are relaxing in the bathtub - you chose a bath bomb made of sea salt soap and local herbs with delicious scents - you let your mind go through all the day's events. You can't stop thinking of that pair of dark eyes going all over your body. You wanted to do the same. You wanted to admire him all. 

You have created many scenarios of what it would be like to meet him. But it went so differently than what you pictured. He doesn't even know who you are or doesn't even care about you. You two could become friends in the future, but for now, your feelings for him are all over the place, and you don't wish to let your heart shatter, not again. Besides, he has Sussie - of course, you have no idea what those two are going through - and you, well, who would want to be with you and your whole "situation"? Your chances with him are zero minus a hundred.

You do your skincare routine before sending yourself to bed - for sure, you will be visiting the hotel's spa in the following days - already dreading tomorrow, a day full of meetings and interviews, you are slightly nervous about what the press is going to ask you, even if Michael does the heavy lifting for you in those matters, everyone seems so curious about you. 

You turn the lights off and pray for a good night of sleep, free of the frequent nightmares you experience.

-

The following day, the driver's parade happens inside walls, while all drivers gather together in a small meeting room - a very office-looking space with sad, white-empty walls, gray carpeting, and way too lit up. Cold lighting is the worst! No F1 glamor on sight - this is part of one of the new progressive and "brilliant" ideas from the FIA. 

Chaos is unleashed as everyone looks for a chair with their name tag.

—Did everyone see her? —Lando asks loudly to the entire room - filled at the moment just by drivers - He is sitting backward in his chair, on the front row, facing the rest. He is wearing his McLaren kit and cap, which is worn backward.

—Yes, we all did. Unless you live under a rock, you have missed that circus, but coming from you, it wouldn't surprise me —Checo answers, joking. 

Lando purposely ignores him and throws him a dirty look and a kiss. —Then, ladies… From 1 to 10, how hard would you bang her? Starting with you, Seb —he asks everyone.

—Seriously, mate? So… sexist… —Vettel answers.

—Come on, bee-guy. What? It's just friendly chit-chat among us drivers, as the FIA would love to remind us, "This meeting's purpose is to establish communications between all teams drivers, their principals, along with the FIA representatives to build relationships and sportsmanship among-"

—Stop reading from the sign, idiot —Carlos says, following Lando's gaze to the sad poster pin crooked on the open door.

—Fine, but let's be honest here: she's the most exciting thing to happen to us in a while, not to mention the most recent. It's not like we are going to admire new guy Yuki's hips. All here have excellent vision, and she looked so FINE like you pervs didn't notice.

—Speak for yourself —Pierre answers jokingly, coming through on his way to his chair, passing in front of Lando in that reduced space, trying not to step on someone. Everyone laughs.

—She is so out of your league anyway; why bother? —Max mentions from the corner, sitting stretched out, his back against the wall, legs on top of the chair beside him. —And I agree with Pierre, Yuki's hips are immaculate, by the way.

—If someone cares, I think my vision is starting to fail me. I will need glasses soon —Nando jokes.

—Don't you worry, abuelo! It's just you getting even more ancient —Pato adds.

—I thought this meeting was for drivers? I mean real ones —Alonso jokes back.

—Oh, mate, low punch! I saw some of her interviews on telly; she is cheeky —George adds, drinking from a Merc bottle and standing near the door.

—Couldn't sound more British if you tried —Bottas adds. 

—He is your Royal Highness, Prince George —Lewis jokes.

—More like your Royal Ass-ness —Leclerc adds amidst laughs.

—I saw her interviews too! It's like Ricciardo got female, but was actually funny and hot —Lando replies.

—Fuck you, mate —Daniel answers, laughing. —You know, she could breastfeed you.

—I wouldn't mind —Lando kids, hitting Dani - sat beside him - on the ribs with his elbow. Today, he is set to act like a naughty boy.

—Lando!! —four drivers say in unison, in shock.

—You're so gross, mate, I swear —Lewis adds simultaneously, palm on his face, half laughing, half wanting to rip his own ears off.

—I'm pretty sure that would be so illegal. I don't want to go to jail, Mr. Officer! —you say, entering through the door. Everyone turns to look at you. You overhear that part of the conversation; it doesn't feel mean-spirit. Then Lando's face matches the red color on Charles' shirt as he slowly turns around on his chair and sits - the proper way - quiet and still. It's a hilarious scene.

—I'm not into minors, but I could change your diaper and read you some bedtime stories to make you fall asleep. "The Little Orange Tin" you would love —you joke to break off the tension.

Michael follows you inside, laughing under his breath. You two take your seats and start chatting casually, two places away. You are seated next to Lewis - to your right - and to an empty chair with no tag to your left by the end of the row. 

You are already a fan of Lewis. And again, you know so much about him because of Sam. Now, he is her favorite person on earth. You feel slightly hurt by that fact, but he sounds lovely, so honestly, it doesn't bother you.

—Hi, I'm Lewis —he offers you a fist bump.

—Hi, Lewis. I'm Y/N 

—How is F1 treating you? All good? —Sebastian asks you, popping out from Lewis's right. Both their attention to you. Heavens, those are some beautiful eyes. You can't figure out if they are green or blue, but you don't want to stare too long.

Sebastian's actual chair is next to Charles, some rows at the front, but he sits next to Lewis because he feels like it. Messing the order. An anarchist at heart.

—All good, thank you —you answer. —It's been chaotic, but I'm enjoying it. And I'm eager for the first race.

—Me too. I always miss driving during breaks —Lewis tells you.

—I agree —Seb adds. —It is the best feeling in the world, so it's hard to let go.

Then Millie enters the room - pink cat-ears headphones on, rocking the new Williams kit: A minimalistic stretchy sports jersey, a white tee with black seams, and the W logo in black print at the center of the chest. It is a fully fitted silhouette with a high neckline and short sleeves, paired with some sleek black sports slacks. 

Michael and you point Millie to the chair next to Michael - with her name tag - she gets there fast and takes off one side of her headphones.

—What up! —Millie greets. —Hi, Sebs!, Hi Lew! —she says extra sweetly and high-pitched tone, waving a hand while facing them. That girl is like a walking cartoon. She looks extra petite and young among those guys.

—Hi, Millie!!! —both of them answer in unison, with the same sweet-pitched tone. It's a cute moment.

Then, the room starts to fill up. And the FIA representative enters, meaning the meeting is about to begin.

A very rushed Mick gets in, also wearing the team's kit. Millie raises a hand and waves it, catching his attention. He moves very fast to his seat. And behind him enters Mattia and Toto, chatting with each other.

Holy shit. The fact that Toto would be there didn't cross your silly mind. And since Seb swapped chairs. The one where he sat belonged to Toto. So the chair next to you is empty and available for the Austrian. You see Mattia sit on the last free spot at the front, and Toto glances around, confused, till he spots the space to your side. You see him walk towards you almost in slow motion. And you set your mind to "if I pretend to not notice him, it means he's not there."

You sense him sitting only inches from you, his arm skin almost touching yours. While you keep your eyes locked straight ahead, point to the FIA guy without daring to move. He stretches while trying to adjust himself to a comfortable position. He is tall and muscular, and these chairs are a joke. His knee moves dangerously close to yours. For a moment, you see the inevitable contact coming. And your heartbeat starts to rise. But it doesn't happen. Damn, he smells so good! How on earth are you to get focus? 

And then the meeting begins.

The whole thing is lame. You and Lewis laugh several times at Seb's under-his-breath comments and jokes about what is happening right at the moment. The German has excellent timing and good puns and one-liners. Those two seem like besties, Lewis being the "serious" of the pair; go figure!

The open mic section starts and the FIA guy offers the microphone around. Lewis instantly and discreetly crosses an arm over Seb's hands, and Vettel raises his eyebrows. —Freedom of speech, much? —Sebastian jokes. 

—What are you going to ask? Seriously? —Lewis tells him.

—I have a genuine question!

—Why I don't believe you.

—Like why? You don't trust me?

—Oh, I do, but...

—But then... let me grab the mic.

Lewis lets out a sigh. Seb raises a hand, now free from Lewis's grip. And the microphone goes to him.

—Check, check —The entire room pays him attention. —Ahm, I have a question for you all.

—Yes, please, go ahead —The poor FIA guy looks overly excited that someone cares enough to say something. Most of them, not to say all of them, look forced to be there, bored, and by that point, so done with this meeting.

—Gentlemen, a short view back to the past. Thirty years ago, Niki... —The more he talks, the louder everyone laughs. Michael loses it. Sebastian recites the whole thing by heart.

What an icon.

The FIA guy couldn't look more confused.

You hear Toto's laugh for the first time; he has been sitting there quietly this entire time. You briefly and occasionally feel his gaze set on you, but you don't dare to turn, look, or talk to him. You know very well that any moment of weakness from you means your doom. Back to Toto's laugh. What is that heaven-sent sound? You want more. How can you get more? Can someone get addicted to a sound?

—Blimey, I knew it! —Lewis lets out, shaking his head and also smiling.

With that question, it is clear the meeting has ended.

As everyone is getting on their feet, you feel Toto purposely caressing his arm against yours as he gets on his feet and then walks to the exit without looking back at you. Your eyes follow him around till you lose sight. Sweet baby Jesus, those toned arms.

-

Race day arrives. 

The Sahkir circuit is a whole party, and the atmosphere is to the roof. All drivers get in position after the entourages move quickly out of the way. The chaos on the track dissipates within seconds. 

Then, after the formation lap, the red lights turn off, and the violent roars from the engines fill your ears. Oh, what a sound, now you are addicted to it.

After a great start from your team and almost two hours later, Lewis and Millie face down in a back-to-back battle. Switching positions 3 times in the final ten laps. It is a monumental effort from the drivers, teams, and their strategies. Emotions are on edge at the pitlane and at the benches.

Millie crosses the line first, less than half a second ahead, and fireworks go up in the air. Fans roar, and you all go nuts! Your crew runs to the pit wall fence, climbing it up and waving as she passes by, lots of fist pumps onto the air. It's your first podium! Your? Like you did something, lol. Your team gets their first podium!! - better - it is a great start. And for the first time in forever, you feel alive and cheerful.

Amidst hugs and pats on the back from crew members and supporters, you make your way to the podium area, following Michael. He is dragging you along; you are in a blur with all that adrenaline rushing through your veins, the noise, the lights, and the crowds.

During the podium ceremony, when the Croatian anthem plays - you are now surrounded by all three teams' entourages, all watching the ceremony together and supporting their driver - you notice Millie getting emotional. It is a first for her, too. And when it finishes, everyone around you starts cheering and clapping like maniacs for her as she raises and kisses the trophy. 

Michael, right next to your side, takes off his white W cap before Millie, and she gestures a praying sign with her hands from high above the podium to thank him and thank you. You blow her a kiss just before rivers of champagne fill the place.

Millie is the sweetest. You felt a genuine connection from the first moment you met her - a couple of months ago at the new Williams headquarters - before she agreed to sign the deal. She trusts you, and you believe in her. So you are on this journey together and feel so happy for her.

You get so distracted by these thoughts and others, too, that you don't notice the place started to empty. When you return to reality, you turn around to leave, following Michael's steps, and almost crash into someone walking in the opposite direction. You are left facing a very nice-looking chest - mere inches away from your face - wearing a white Mercedes shirt. You raise your gaze from those fine pecs that belong to Toto and look at his handsome face.

—Hi... —He says, looking down at you, he is way taller than you.

—H-h...i —You feel weak on the knees.

—I-I..

—I... I'm.

You both say at the same time. You step to the left, and Toto steps to the left synchronously. 

—Sor..ry-y.

—So-rry.

You both keep talking over each other. So Toto moves aside, gesturing with his hand to let you go through first.

—Nice meeting you —you say calmly and quickly rush away.

—Same —he replies, following you with his gaze and watching you walk away. You feel he wants to say more, and you do, too, but it is better this way.

"What the fuck was that. Why on earth were you so nervous, girl? It was like you forgot how to speak!" You think.

"The fumes in the garage are starting to affect me," Toto thinks. "Is she running away from me? Yeah... The fumes are definitely affecting me. Damn, she walks fast."

-

Australia

Thanks to poor scheduling and the worst jet traffic, Michael and you aren't able to land on time. All tracks are being used at the moment, so you get sent to another terminal further away from the circuit. Qualy for the Australian GP is about to start, and obviously, you two are running late.

A Lamborghini Sian car is already waiting for you when you land. So you ask the chauffeur to toss the car keys to Michael. —We have like ten minutes to be there —you tell Schumi.

—Understood, boss.

You instantly regret phrasing it like that. Schumi is driving like a madman while getting directions from the chauffeur in the backseat. Michael pushes the engine to the limit, and the car goes full speed. You feel your body melting with the car seat as you hang for your dear life to the seatbelt. Ten minutes was a say, you didn't truly mean it, let's try another one: To get there alive if possible, this one you meant it.

Michael enters the staff parking lot at the Melbourne circuit by taking an extreme corner still at full force. The two security guys sprint to open the gates; it is that or get run over. 

Once you get in, you see him letting the wheel go a second, and the car starts spinning around - it twirls at an alarming speed. "Am I going to get projected out of this window?" you think. And in just one wild movement, he parallels parks, tires burning. The Fast and Furious stunts were a kid's play next to his. Everyone stares at the scene, astounded.

—9.48.00 minutes, boss —Schumi says. Turning off the engine while checking his Rolex Daytona.

He was insane for this.

—Well, I hope you are as fast on your feet as you were on this car —You joke, grabbing your purse and access badge while getting out of the vehicle, heels hitting the ground like nothing had happened. Because, above everything, you are a bad bitch.

—Are you? —he dares you. Walking past the front of the car, catching your step.

—Haven't you seen my legs?! —You joke. Toned they are.

—You make the 100-meter dash athletes jealous —He jokes back. 

You are going to get so many fines. So many.

-

You two make it to the W garage on time. You "fashion walk" there, according to the people who mock you. Since you don't feel like blending in with the mechanics - and because of your outfits and looks. The Williams garage is located dead last on the pitlane, so you have to walk in front of all other teams' garages to get there every time - expensive bag-swinging in the air, designer heels clacking on the floor, always wearing a chic something; dresses, shorts, skirts - as if they don't enjoy it! Of course, you expected toxic masculinity and sexism on your way, especially since your team is dominating! But not this early on.

—You are late! —Millie jumps at you.

—Let's not talk about it. I'm going to need therapy, thanks to that experience.

—What?! —She looks at you with a funny face.

—Nevermind. All ready?

—Do I look like ready? —She says, gesturing at herself. She is wearing an oversized lilac tee - at least twice her size - and a white tennis mini-skirt with matching white Jordans. 

She follows you to the dressing rooms right across from your remote office, where you quickly leave your purse and stuff inside. As you two get there, Millie tells you how excited she is that Sanrio offered to design her helmet for Suzuka before going to change.

—What do you think? Is it too much? —she asks you. Inviting you into her custom dressing room and pointing around. It looks like Minisio had puked that room out.

—Is very you! —you answer.

—I know, right!!! —she gives you a big dumb smile.

—Are your boobs out? —Mick asks while entering through her dressing room doors - eyes closed, arms extended in front, walking mummy-like - not seeing you there, obviously.

—What?! No! —Millie answers as Loretta (her trainer slash assistant) finishes suiting her up.

—Great! I can open my eyes then! —he says.

—I don't think there's much to see, Mick —Millie jokes while putting on a sad face and looking down at her chest. —Two lemons, barely.

—I don't think Marc from statistics thinks the same. I saw him trying to find them —He jokes. Mick gains a smack on the arm.

Millie's popularity has skyrocketed; she is already a paddock favorite. By this point, she had already rejected three engineers who asked her out - not because of ego, being rude, or wanting to break hearts - but because she is so clueless and a shy dork with zero social skills, in her own words: "I communicate better with cars and engines than with people, at least I know how to work them."

—Kids, kids! —you say, amused at the scene.

—Oh, hi, boss! I didn't notice you there —Mick looks at you, a bit embarrassed.

—No worries —You are glad those two are getting along well.

Mick drops himself on the fluffy pink oval puff in one of the corners. One leg up.

—Why are you here on my land? —Millie asks.

—Oh yeah. I came to say something —Mick adds like he is just remembering. —Yes! My father is waiting for you two to start the team's meeting. Everyone is there already. It's urgent. So hurry.

—Oh god, and you just let us know now.

The three of you get on your feet real fast.

-

After a good team catch-up and an impeccable motivational speech from Michael, all of you get to your positions inspired and ready to give it all.

As the Qualy starts, you turn to Michael. —You are a great leader, you know? We are lucky to have you —you tell him.

—I'm glad to be here, more than you imagine, boss.

-

Millie secures a pole position. Sparks flyed. Damn, that car was fast, and she, she was faster!

-

When the workday is done, you wait for Sam across from Merc's hospitality. It's getting dark.

You are sitting on a bench a few meters away, next to a tree with beautiful yellow flowers, looking at your phone and minding your business, avoiding looking like a threat near competitors' territory.

—Waiting for Sam? —Toto asks you from the other side - at the bottom of the stairs of their main cafeteria entrance - you raise your gaze at the sound of his voice.

—Yes! Hi! Will she be taking long? —You can't avoid smiling at him and sound slightly nervous.

—No, she is on her way, but I must warn you, she's been insufferable the entire day. She had one of those, what she calls it? A bad ha...

—A bad hair day —you both finish in unison. —Yikes! How bad it was? The hair? I mean.

—Oh, terrible! I had to look at it all day —he answers jokingly, putting an ew face. Toto walks towards you and sits on the bench by your side, stretching his legs and resting one on top of the other.

The truth is, Samanta doesn't have naturally straight locks; she has long, curly hair she straightens. And sometimes, some days, some weather gave her that wavy, frizzy, wild, non-combable hair.

—You are such an inspiration, a true survivor. Tell me all about your journey —You make him laugh, you love that. More, please.

The door interrupts you two as you both smile at each other like dumbs and lock eyes. Sam goes out, black Merc hoodie on, covering almost her entire face, overdramatic as usual.

—Rocking the Palpatine? —you tease her.

—Hilarious. Bad hair day. I look like Monica Geller on that trip to the beach beneath this —she says with sarcasm. Toto laughs. —Ah, now that reference you get —Sam rolls her eyes.

—Jezz, that mood, huh? A few drinks will get you through these dark times, my friend. Let's go! —you add.

—Oh no, I'm not going.

—What?! Why?! Why are you like this, Samanta?!

—No, why is humidity a thing? Who needs it?

—Aem, all of Australia's wildlife? —Toto adds.

—Shut up, smarty pants —Sam lets out.

—You look like Hagrid —he replies.

—Torger, don't test me, I swear —she warns him, fingers rubbing her forehead.

—So, when will you be available then? —you ask her, cutting off the bickering.

Sam opens her weather app to check the humidity levels. —Ahm, like next week? Not in Australia?

—Are you serious, dude?! I already booked! —You two were going to that Michelin star blindfolded dining and drinking experience. It was so on trend that booking a table there was Melbourne's most challenging and expensive thing at the moment.

—Sorry, I'm not going out looking like this! But for sure Toto could join you! He desperately needs to get some of that stress out of his system. He's getting meaner.

—What!? Me, the meaner one? —Toto lets out.

—What?! Sam! No, no. He is probably busy, and I don't want to bo... —you add, quickly, getting nervous while trying not to show it.

She interrupts you.

—Busy?! No, he is just in an antisocial mood swing. Toto barely left his office today! All grumpy, he was inside there. Besides, didn't you, my guy, tell me you were going straight to your hotel to lock yourself and binge-watch Love Island while eating ice cream straight from the bucket? —Sam teases him, well aware Toto is feeling low - more like heartbroken - Sam hates Sussie, but of course, she will never admit it publicly, and definitely not to him. This is her weird way of showing him her support by setting him up to go out and have fun with a great person instead of being miserable and all alone. Classic Sam.

—What? No. What's Love Island? I wasn't being antisocial; I had a ton of work today, unlike you —He answers deadpan. 

—Do you even own a TV? —Sam is seriously curious.

—Of course, I do! Several, in fact —It doesn't mean he watches them.

—You must be rich! —you joke. He smiles.

—Yeah, whatever. Come on! Get to know each other! Have a good time on me and my hair's behalf —Sam grabs you both, each by the arm, and walks you towards the exit.

—Is it me, or is she getting worse with age? —You address Toto.

—No question!

—Hey! You can't trash-talk me! —Sam complains.

—Oh, that's all we will be doing; we are going to talk so much trash about you, piles of it, that the garbage collector will plead to us no more —you mock her.

—I'm hating this already! —Sam crosses her arms.

Well, now you have a date with Toto. A date, yeah, in your dreams.

To be continued... < Masterlist | Next chapter >

Join us at The Wolff Pack Discord Server > https://discord.com/invite/tpgArxqbfd

[strangelittlestories]

The three girls were sitting outside the McDonalds by the dingy underpass beneath the A-road that circled the town. They wore grey hoodies and seemed to be arguing.

Cee checked the map she had been given by the Hermes courier. It was still there in her hand, even here in the dream. She had followed the route as best she could.

1) Head north until you reach the country club. 2) Steal a rowboat and head out onto the lake. 3) When the storm descends, bargain with the spirit at the centre for passage, 4) When you are spit out you’ll find yourself in a forest pond, at which point you must turn twice widdershins and pass under the mushroom arch. 5) Take the footpath until you’re back on the main road, then take a left past the Gregg’s. 6) Look for the golden arches on Argyle Street. 7) Fall asleep there and dream: in your mind, they shall be there.

Here she was. And these must be the ladies.

She sidled over and began to hear their argument:

“Dana, give it. You know I cannot read the thrice-cursed menu without the i.”

The girl who spoke was reaching for a battered old iphone, which the second girl was currently using to record a video.

“Shut up, Enya, you are distracting me. You can have the i once I have used it to complete the Oracle Challenge on TikTok.”

The third girl snatched the iphone away, while the first two bickered and began scrolling it with one hand.

“Oh my gods, Freddo, you already have the tooth! Stop hogging!”

The third girl grinned and produced a small off-white bluetooth speaker from her hoodie. She tapped the iphone screen and the speaker began playing Despacito.

“It is almost out of charge, sisters. I must have my jams - my jams! My jams! - before it is fully depleted.”

Cee cleared her throat, so as not to surprise them.

“Um, excuse me.” The three girls all swung their heads to face Cee at the exact same time. “I was told that you three would know where to find the gorgon?”

The three replied at once, speaking over each other in one fluid and deeply creepy rush.

“Oh for-” “-the sake of-” “-Zeus’s golden showers-" “-another would-be hero-” “-approaches us to- “-accomplice another monster murder-” “-get-” “-to-” “-fudge.”

“Oh no,” Cee replied. “You’ve misunderstood. The gorgon is my girlfriend. I think … an ancient king or god or something … kidnapped her?”

“Hmmm.” said Dana. “That’s new. I don’t know if I like it yet.”

“Oooh, a queer retelling,” said Dana, “BookTok is gonna flip their shit about this.”

“No. A fully unadulterated, manifested, healthily boundaried ‘no’.” said Freddo, “I am not gonna be a part of burying this gay. And I will gatekeep the flip out of you if I must.”

Cee thought for a moment.

“I get where you’re coming from,” she said, “but perhaps I could offer you something in exchange? I notice you just have the one dying iphone and one dodgy speaker between you?”

“One i and one tooth, yes. That is the way of it.”

“Well … I could offer you this power bank and a couple of USB/lightning cables? Then you could keep your stuff charged and you might not have to argue over the last dregs of power?”

The three girls huddled and whispered for a moment. The sound of the cars on the circular road above - each roaring with the sound of a thought tearing through Cee’s subconscious - drowned out their deliberations. Once more, they looked up at exactly the same time and all spoke as one.

“Very well, we shall tell you what you seek.”

Cee was glad she had brought the charge brick with her. She supposed it was true what they said: In the ring-road of the mind, the charged iphone is king.

---

With thanks to Anne V McClure for the Word of the Month prompt ‘Kingdom’. Want to submit your own prompts for tortured puns? Become a supporter on Ko-Fi! https://ko-fi.com/strangelittlestories

[sirfrogsworth]

It's hard to be nostalgic about Tumblr without remembering my friend Tru.

Truett McGowan.

What a fantastic name.

We met each other because we were both tech geeks following Leo Laporte. He was the very first live streamer. Originally he hosted a TechTV cable show called The Screen Savers. But once G4 took over and focused more on video games, Leo's show was cancelled and he was looking for a new way to broadcast content.

So he built a studio near his home and created his own infrastructure in order to live stream video on the internet. He called his new show "This Week in Tech" or TWiT for short.

Along with his new streaming venture he created a TWiT community using an open source microblogging platform called Laconica. It was a form of Twitter that you could create specifically for a single community. Basically a custom niche Twitter feed. I was trying to be a web designer back then, so I created custom themes for Lacnonica.

This was my own personal theme for a website that I ended up never launching.

Leo called his custom Twitter, "The TWiT Army." And I was his graphic designer and webmaster. I made all of the cute little graphics for the website.

I also did fun holiday themes...

For the Thanksgiving theme, if you hovered over the Turkey it would change to being cooked.

I also took it upon myself to photoshop a little army helmet on the avatar of every single user of the site.

This was the zombie avatar I made for myself during Halloween.

The TWiT Army was also where I started posting my first attempts at Photoshop comedy. Many of them related to The TWiT Army.

And The TWiT Army is where I met Tru. He used a space invader avatar. I made him a couple of different versions.

You may have seen his avatar on the sidebar of my main Tumblr.

We became fast friends. We finished each other's jokes. We talked pretty much all day, every day. He loved Apple back then. I was strictly PC at the time. So we debated about that quite a bit. He would probably be astonished I have a MacBook and that I really love it too.

Our friendship lived in a little text box. We never talked outside of instant messages. But it was one of the most profound friendships of my life. I loved Tru just as much as any friend I've ever known in real life.

Tru started blogging on this brand new site called Tumblr. He reviewed apps for the iPod Touch. Not the iPhone, as that wasn't yet a thing.

I made the banner for his Tumblr.

He kept trying to get me to join Tumblr, but I was busy trying to create my own custom comedy website. But my site kept getting more and more complicated and I could never quite finish it. I was trying to arrange guest authors and create 3 months of content and I was always futzing with the theme and never happy with it.

I was getting frustrated that I could never launch my perfect comedy website and Tru suggested just making a Tumblr and posting funny stuff so I could be creative and have an outlet until my big site was ready to launch.

Little did I know Tumblr would end up being my big comedy website. Eventually I abandoned months of work and just stayed on Tumblr. All of my success here is pretty much because that little space invader pestered me to join when I was being stubborn.

Unfortunately, as some may have figured out already, the story gets sad from there. Tru mentioned briefly that he had a heart defect, but he never said it was serious. He acted like it was no big deal so I never thought too much about it.

We always talked through instant message and email, so we never exchanged phone numbers or addresses or anything like that. Tru was a very private person so he never even published an image of his face online. I only knew him as a space invader.

One day I woke up and sent him a message and got no reply. He usually woke up before me and answered as soon as I said hello. This had been our routine for nearly a year.

An hour went by. Two hours. Three hours.

It was odd for him not to respond for that long. I was really worried but all of my TWiT friends told me I was being paranoid. But there was a huge knot in my stomach telling me otherwise.

But then those hours turned into days. Days into weeks. Weeks into months. My worry grew exponentially as more time passed. I didn't know what to do. I tried finding his family. I even looked into hiring a private investigator. I don't know if I have ever felt a combination of depression & anxiety that intense.

In my heart, I knew what had happened. I knew that heart defect took his life. He was only 26 and it just didn't seem fair. But the not knowing for certain ravaged my mental health. Before all of this I had lost nearly 90 pounds and I gained it all back.

I think maybe a year or so later I found a friend of his who knew him in real life. They were finally able to confirm my suspicions. He passed away from his heart condition. That was my first real experience with grief. But I was so thankful for that bit of closure. I was finally able to let go of my anxiety and mourn him properly.

But Tru gave me such a wonderful gift. He pushed me to just start making things. To stop stalling and just create things to make people smile.

And you all probably know the rest from there.

[riflebrass]

I had to get a new phone and it's been a pain in the ass. I'm finally forced into USB C so I need to get a few cables for it.

I have to deal with no aux output too. My truck stereo doesn't have Bluetooth and I think USB only works on iphones. I don't want to get a whole new stereo so I think I'll just use one of my Bluetooth headsets.

Funny enough the kid at the store was saying my old phone wasn't worth keeping anymore because it's an 8 year old model which is the equivalent of driving a 25 year old car. I definitely trust an older car over the modern ones lmao.

[basedhighsenberg]

Android users when new iPhones now all use type C cables:

[ariel-seagull-wings]

@themousefromfantasyland @the-blue-fairie @thealmightyemprex @piterelizabethdevries

"I've always been a big fan of Ke$ha. The music of her early years was like a gateway for me letting myself to like Top 40.

I was a huge fan of her aesthetic of this flagrant shameless image... it was fun, it let you feel like being broke and young and partying all the time was aspirational.

It felt like a pass not to care about the world. At least as long as her music was on.

But then, years pass and it comes out that all of those party girl songs were made during years of physical and emotional abuse by her producer, that the party girl image was a construct that she didn't really have control over and maybe even didn't really like.

And knowing that in a world where otherwise I would still play the hell out of those Ke$ha early years music, it just doesn’t feel the same anymore.

I want to go back to the way her music made me feel in 2010, just unapologetic and dumb and glittery, but even though I want to, I can't.

Because now I know the circunstances under which that music was made.

And if you watch a piece of media, had an emotional reaction, whatever it was, and then learned that the context involved a certain level of exploitation, it changes the way you view the media, wheter you want it to or not.

Maybe Harper Lee's old age and deteriorating mental state were exploited by her publisher, in order to knock out a quick sequel to an American Classic before the door closed.

Maybe Ke$ha's party-girl image was carefully crafted by a sexually abusive iron-fist producer who had 100% control of her public image.

Maybe a lot of the art you consume, or even that you love, only exists because a person or people, or an entire island nation, were exploited by more powerful business interests.

But, that's capitalism.

Profit driven exploitation doesn't always have the last word.

Ke$ha's still locked into a contract with the label that enabled her abuser, but at least he's not there anymore?

And there are elements of the Hobbit Law that are up for repeal now that Labour is back in power, particularly the bit about outlawing collective bargaining, which to me is the most heinous part.

But these are only half measures, particularly the Hobbit Law repeal, which itself is no guarantee. I reached out to several people affiliated with the various New Zealand film guilds, but none are making comments to the media about the law until the law gets repealed.

If it does get repealed...

If you discover that a brand or company, like a bank or something, did something bad or unethical, it isn’t surprising. People just kind of shrug and go, yep that's how banks roll.

And maybe you'll close your account and go to a different bank, but the reality is that you probably don't care enough to even do that much, because unethical multinational corporations doing terrible things to people in the name of profit is just, kind of, the world.

You don’t have the brain space to care about all of them. We pay monopolistic cable companies for internet access, we have 401ks run by morally bankrupt hedge fund managers that we will never know, we still buy IPhones, we still buy cheap clothes while paying vague leap service to the knowledge that people are being exploited somewhere so we in America can boss Siri around.

In some ways we engage with a multitude of brands and corporations every day that someone, somewhere is getting exploited by, often cruelly so.

But media is different. Media is personal.

Media is designed to provide an escape, to stir emotions, to inspire.

The film industry is by no means the industry with the highest incidence of sexual harassment, but people care more about it when it gets exposed in the film industry, because the film industry creates media that hits emotional nerves.

And then when we find out that something we loved was made by someone who said or did bad things, it's like betrayal.

When people ask wheter is moral to separate art from the artist, or in this case, product from multinational conglomerate, what they're really asking is:

'How can I go back to consume media like I did when I was a kid? When the most context I had or cared about was who the author of my favorite book was, or why I like this actor, or what Ke$ha's real name and birthday is.'

But as an adult, you're expected to be an ethical consumer of media.

And it's somewhat inevitable that some people resent that, because consuming media the way children do is comforting.

Consuming media like The Hobbit as an adult is complicated and in this day and age, it's hard to do so innocently.

And I totally understand wanting to return to that innocence, and I don’t really have an argument against that worldview other than... that's adulthood."

(LINDSAY ELLIS: THE HOBBIT AN UNEXPECTED AUTOPSY (PART 3/2)- THE DESOLATION OF WARNERS )

[neververy4]

I play a video game called Vintage Story, been playing it since 2020. Absolutly love it. It's a 3D open world voxel game, like Minecraft, but that's about where the similitaries end. Anyways, on my current world, I have a 3x3x3 bunker room with some clay in it, I call it the Clay Hole. Whenever the storm that spawns monsters pass through, I bunker down in the clay hole and work on my pottery whilst the storm rolls on.

I'm telling you this to give context for this conversation I had with a friend who recently got the game

My friend's message, "I love (clay) hole", is the last thing my phone saw before it bricked itself. My phone's screen went VERY bright when that message went through (I always keep my screen on the dimmest it can go), before powering down, and entering a boot loop.

Connecting it to iTunes, it failed both a restore, and a factory reset, going through the whole process, finishing, and still having a boot loop. Error code 4013, which is everything from Face ID to the motherboard to the USB cable/port.

): IDK what to do. I don't want to buy a new phone right now. I'm trying to save for a new laptop. I've had this iPhone 11 for 4 years now, and it's been such a great phone. Maybe buy a used 11? Assuming I can find a trustworthy reseller . .. Going with a same model phone will allow my old phone to be kept as parts for the new one, so there is that. I could also just get the latest, a basic 16 model, and use that phone for another 4 years. IDK, all I know is that I'm upset over losing 4 years of photos, from having to do the factory reset.

Anyways, take some humor out of my misfortune. The Clay Hole was too powerful and killed my phone.

[kakashisthickthighs]

i am thinking about if getou and gojo really did continue talking afterwards and like the tiny intricate details and logistics of their lives.

they part in 2007. they had flip phones.

getou dies in 2016. they had iphones, instagram, snapchat, and dog filters.

when getou first goes rogue, shoko and gojo probably still have his number and are blowing his shit up. he probably has his phone off for the first days of it and turns it back on after. there’s no need to trash it out of a want to stay hidden—he won’t die unless they send an army or gojo himself.

when he turns his cell back on, he’s half-tempted to delete all his photos of jujutsu tech, with shoko, with gojo, and he gets as far as deleting maybe 15 of them in a heavy-breathed rage before convincing himself that maybe he doesn’t need to delete these. these are mementos of the said pinnacle of jujutsu, and they’ll come in handy when there are no non-sorcerers left.

he’s about to put the cellphone away before it rings. it’s satoru. he sighs. he calls once every day. it’s relentless, six or seven calls at minute intervals. getou almost laughs at it—the world’s strongest, desperate.

a month after his disappearance, he calls every night at ten. sometimes the pixels on his cell read 10:04, 10:21, the latest was 10:42. it becomes a ritual, agonizing every night wanting to finally beat gojo at something, to make him lose. but suguru finds himself holding his breath as 10pm wanders by every day, breathing easy only when his phone stops buzzing.

maybe one night he’s yet again alone in his shoebox apartment, assorted belongings littered about, convincing himself this was the best path for him. not jujutsu tech, the horrible missions, the loneliness, the taste. it feels better here, where no one else is happy.

he’s lost in a daze when his phone rings. it’s been three months and satoru won’t let up. every night. he scoffs and flips his cell open just to sneer and make a point, to feel powerful in his own mind, but once the line connects, he’s silent, mouth agape and eyes wide that he actually picked up.

he hears static from the other side, a shift of fabric, a shaky inhale. “suguru, you fucking idiot,” gojo sneers, loud on the other end, “what’d ya pick up by accident?”

getou can’t help but laugh from the bottom of his heart. his abs are burning and tears are falling by the time he contains himself, and memories flood back. selfies, dumb finds, food pics, phone bills crazy all from hours on the phone together. there’s satoru’s voice, and then there’s lofi samsung static-lined satoru’s voice. both sound like home.

“suguru—“

“satoru,” he breathes, and this is what it feels like to talk again. he’s lived in this apartment in silence for the past three months, voices only coming from his saved videos.

“come home, suguru.” they both know it’s impossible.

getou chuckles again into the speaker. he can almost see it, satoru’s spindly form, one leg propped up on a chair, elbow resting on it as he holds the phone in distaste. or maybe he’s completely prone, jolted awake by a voice he hadn’t expected to hear.

“satoru, you’ll be fine,” he chimes, hanging up. he squeezes his eyes shut and swallows a sigh, and just like that, he’s left home again.

three years later the calls have stopped. the iphone 4 comes out, and the world is awash in touch screens, app stores, and missing charging cables. it’s time for an upgrade, and getou powers off his flip phone—his youth—one last time and tucks it gingerly into a shoebox. he starts completely anew with no data to transfer.

gojo meticulously transfers every contact and double checks only one number. it’s the first call he makes on his new phone.

the number you have dialed is not in service—

he hangs up and slows his breathing. he doesn’t delete the number. suguru, the contact reads.

you’ll be fine.

[ralfmaximus]

What specifically causes the concerns is unclear, but Apple Intelligence alone covers upgrades to Siri, Genmoji, managing notifications, taking scripted actions across different apps, as well as text generation and summaries.

Oh look, Apple's AI plagiarism machine won't roll out in Europe because the mean old EU consumer protection laws are in the way. The last time Apple ran afoul of the EU, they ended up dropping their weird proprietary charging cable and adopting USB-C.

Curious to see how this shakes out.

[bitchesgetriches]

You Have the Frugal Right to Repair Your Shit. Or Do You?

A lot of things are not designed to last. We see this most often in tech, where every year or so a new generation of gadget comes out and the old generation slowly stops working so well. Remember my dead phone battery? It goes deeper than that.

My junk drawer is bursting with generations of iPhone charger cables. Every few iterations, Apple changes the charging port in their phones in the name of technological advancement, making the charging cable for the previous generation obsolete. You can’t use those old chargers on your new phone, and you can’t keep using your old phone because it breaks down over time.

This practice is known as planned obsolescence.

Keep reading.

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