#affordable gaming equipment

[gamingheadsets-1]

GAMING CONTROLLERS

Unlocking the Ultimate Gaming Experience: Laptops, Controllers, and Headsets

In the fast-evolving world of gaming, having the right equipment is crucial for an unparalleled experience. Gaming laptops, mobile gaming controllers, PC gaming controllers, PS5 controllers, wireless gaming controllers, Xbox controllers, and wireless gaming headsets are essential tools that enhance gameplay. In this article, we’ll explore these products, their features, and how they contribute to an immersive gaming experience.

The Rise of Gaming Laptops

Gaming laptops have become a staple for gamers who desire powerful performance on the go. Unlike traditional laptops, gaming laptops are designed with high-performance specifications, capable of running the latest games smoothly. Key features of gaming laptops include:

High-Performance Graphics: Equipped with dedicated GPUs, gaming laptops provide stunning visuals and seamless gameplay, making them ideal for any gaming enthusiast.

Fast Refresh Rates: Many gaming laptops offer refresh rates of 120Hz or higher, ensuring fluid motion during gameplay, which is essential for competitive gaming.

Portable Design: Gaming laptops are engineered for portability, allowing gamers to take their gaming experience anywhere without sacrificing power.

Whether you're a casual gamer or a competitive player, investing in a gaming laptop can significantly elevate your gaming experience.

Controllers: Choosing the Right One

Controllers play a vital role in how we interact with games. The right controller can enhance your gameplay and provide better control and comfort. Here are some popular options:

Mobile Gaming Controllers: As mobile gaming continues to rise, mobile gaming controllers have become essential for gamers looking to improve their performance on smartphones. These controllers provide tactile feedback and enhanced control for a more enjoyable experience.

PC Gaming Controllers: PC gaming controllers are versatile and can be used for various genres, from first-person shooters to platformers. They offer compatibility with most games, allowing for a comfortable gaming experience.

PS5 Controllers: The DualSense controller for PlayStation 5 offers advanced haptic feedback and adaptive triggers, providing an immersive experience that reacts to in-game actions. Its ergonomic design ensures comfort during extended gaming sessions.

Wireless Gaming Controllers: Wireless gaming controllers eliminate the need for cables, allowing for freedom of movement. These controllers can connect seamlessly to various devices, including gaming laptops and consoles, providing versatility and convenience.

Xbox Controllers: Renowned for their ergonomic design, Xbox controllers provide excellent build quality and comfort. They offer customizable button mapping and seamless connectivity, making them a popular choice among gamers.

Choosing the right controller depends on your gaming style and platform preference. Each type offers unique features that can enhance your gameplay.

Wireless Gaming Headsets: Immersion at Its Best

To complete your gaming setup, investing in a quality wireless gaming headset is essential. These headsets not only provide excellent sound quality but also enhance your overall gaming experience. Here are some key benefits of using wireless gaming headsets:

Freedom of Movement: Wireless gaming headsets allow you to move around freely without the constraints of wires. This is especially beneficial during intense gaming sessions where mobility is key.

Comfortable Design: Many wireless gaming headsets are designed for extended use, featuring padded ear cups and adjustable headbands. This ensures comfort during long gaming marathons.

High-Quality Audio: Wireless gaming headsets deliver immersive sound, enabling you to hear every detail in your game. This includes subtle audio cues that can make a significant difference in gameplay.

Microphone Quality: A good headset should include a quality microphone for clear communication with teammates. Many wireless headsets feature noise-canceling microphones, ensuring that your voice is heard without background interference.

Some of the top wireless gaming headsets include:

SteelSeries Arctis 7: This headset offers excellent sound quality and long battery life, making it a top choice for gamers who value performance and comfort.

Razer Nari Ultimate: Known for its haptic feedback, the Nari Ultimate provides an immersive audio experience, enhancing the overall gaming atmosphere.

Logitech G Pro X Wireless: This headset features advanced sound customization options and a comfortable design, perfect for competitive gamers.

Investing in a quality wireless gaming headset can dramatically improve your gaming experience, allowing for better immersion and communication with teammates.

Conclusion

In the competitive world of gaming, having the right tools can significantly impact your performance and enjoyment. Whether you opt for a powerful gaming laptop, a versatile controller, or an immersive wireless gaming headset, each component plays a crucial role in enhancing your gaming experience.

At Gaming Paradise, we are dedicated to providing gamers with the best products to maximize their performance. Explore our wide selection of gaming laptops, controllers, and headsets today and take your gaming to the next level!

for more info, contact us at https://gamingparadise.in/

[ganondoodle]

you know i think i had gotten kinda lucky finding so many great to ok totk reviews bc i went to search yesterday (my god is youtube shit at searches now man, i want to see stuff for what i searched for not 20 things other people watched) but there truly is some utter shit there

i went through some that boiled down to angry gamer mad about game (kinda glad really bc seeing someone that actually is like that it makes me feel less like im doing the same xD) one of which saying the only reason the building is in there is bc they were trying to copy ... FORTNITE??? and another ones big point was that .. the graphics and animations are the same which ... just sounds like one of those pokémon people angry that a new game doesnt redo every single model and animation for 400 NPCs

(also one with a one step away from porn thumbnail that later i saw someone else talk about and apparently og video was about zelda being ..... too ... woke ... actually made me a little curious bc what the fuck could possibly be woke in totk?? sonia having slightly darker skin????? but theres no way im giving someone like that views lol)

and a huge portion is videos making fun of bad reviews for totk ...... which i dont think i need to explain why thats not worth anyones time lol

i find it sad how hard it is to find more diverse kind of people making totk reviews since id love to hear someone that may understand and know more than i do talk about it, new perspective and all that (also since most reviews i found good are really taking everything at face value with no one really looking at how the whole hyrule kingdom vs evil desert man is kinda ... not cool) but then again i know how youtube can be and how extreme some hardcore totk defenders are so i probably wouldnt want to get into all that either :U

[thedarkone121]

Currently thinking about Baldur’s Gate III and how if I had put my DnD character in it — who is AroAce —, it could lead to two things with Astarion.

The Spawn Route: Bickering Companions-to Friends-To Chaotic Siblings that still see each other from time-to-time, living their best lives.

The Ascended Route: Same as above, before it gradually fell into bittersweet enemies where my character, Mychele, feels like she has no choice but to destroy Astarion so his Master’s influence will not live on as homage to the man she once knew as her found-brother.

[the-uncanny-dag]

Work-life balance & self-care & all that good shit woulda been easier if hobbies & recreations that don't include The App and Walking Around weren't turning into luxury activities from which people like me, aka 99% of all adults, are getting priced out of more with each passing day

[takaska]

when will game devs realize people play games in spite of, and not because of, any grinding mechanics

[lovebugism]

Kissing eddie just as you’re both about to get out of the car and now he’s got a problem cause he’s hard, and all your friends are waiting for you and you’re both a little late and Eddie we really gotta hurry up! what’s the issue? and the poor boy is bright red to his neck over how gone he is on you

ty for requesting :D ps: i'm gnawing at the bars of my enclosure over this prompt –– when eddie's about to leave for a show, you make sure he knows exactly what he's missing out on (established relationship, st4 canon divergence, allusions to smut 18+ | 1k)

“How do I look?” Eddie wonders aloud as you trail down the creaking porch steps behind him. He plants his feet on the gravel driveway and spins on the heel of his sneaker to face you –– already bare-faced and clad in your pretty PJs for the night, a striking contrast to the lead guitarist of Corroded Coffin standing before you.

You pause on the second-to-last step and reach for his face. Eddie leans instinctively into your warm touch as you swipe your thumbs under his eyes, gently smudging his dark liner a bit more. 

“Like a rockstar,” you answer with a proud smile.

Eddie scrunches his nose sheepishly in response, ‘cause he has nowhere to hide with you cradling his blushing face like this. He’s still not immune to the way you look at him, even after all this time. “You’re just sayin’ that,” he mumbles, kicking a lone rock with the toe of his show.

You hum in agreement as your hands fall from his face. “Yeah. ‘Cause it’s true.”

“To you, maybe,” Eddie scoffs, trying hard to ignore the pang of anxiety in his chest. “No one else seems to think so.”

He never used to be nervous performing before Vecna tried to kill him. It was the world that was scared of Eddie Munson, not the other way around –– until it nearly ended, anyway. Now, just leaving the house is enough to induce a panic attack. A part of him is always distantly fearful that a stranger’s face will turn out to be the dark wizard’s, back to life and hiding in plain sight again.

“Hey,” you scold, only partially playful. “I think the crowd of five drunks who watch you perform every Tuesday would agree with me.”

Despite the ice-cold apprehension making his limbs feel numb, Eddie manages a breathy chuckle. “You’re right. We could bomb, and they’d still act like we were playing Madison Square Garden or something.”

You soften then, as though sensing his worry. “You’re not gonna bomb, Eds. You guys are gonna do great. Just like always.”

“Sure you can’t come?” Eddie wonders quietly, blinking up at you with a pair of chocolate button eyes that are hard to say no to.

“You know I can’t… I have an early morning tomorrow,” you coo sympathetically, fighting back a smile when the boy’s rosy bottom lip juts in a pout. “But I’ll be right here when you get back, okay? And I’ll make sure to heat up dinner when you’re on your way. So you have something to soak up the alcohol and adrenaline with.”

You tilt your cheek to your shoulder, squinting suspiciously when Eddie’s frown curls into a cheeky grin. He reaches for you with a pair of ringed hangs and squeezes at your clothed hips. “Just like a good little housewife, huh?” he croons mischievously.

You roll your eyes at him ‘cause you’re not a housewife by any means. 

You live in a trailer with his uncle, for one. And you work five days a week, for another. Besides, you’re not even his wife, which you think is usually the first step. (You have no idea Eddie’s already picked a ring out for you. Or that he plans on keeping that a secret until he plays enough shows to afford a house). 

You decide to humor him, anyway. 

“Sure,” you monotone with a slow nod.

Eddie’s grin widens.

“C’mon on, Munson! We’re gonna be late!” Jeff lisps from the passenger side window of the van. The rusted tin can is parked a ways down the drive, packed to the brim with all their band equipment like a perfect game of Tetris.

You lean forward to press a chaste kiss to his mouth.

“Wear that dress I like when I get back?” Eddie murmurs lowly.

You hum with your lips pursed to the side of your mouth, pretending to be deep in thought. “Hmm… I was kinda thinkin’ about wearing nothing, actually,” you answer, shrugging innocently. “You know, for easy access and whatnot.”

Eddie warms all over. His wild head starts to swim at the visual –– one he’s seen a hundred times before that he’s not quiet sure he’ll ever get over. “Have mercy…” the boy mumbles under his breath.

“Just try not to think about it too much while you’re gone…” you lilt knowingly, smoothing both your hands up and over the lapels of his leather jacket. “All alone… Naked in our bed… Trying to get myself off while I wait for you…”

Eddie stares at you with heavy, lidded eyes. He can’t take the chocolates of them off your lips as they curl into a mischievous, tightlipped smile. “How ‘bout I just stay home?” he offers lowly.

A resounding honk blares from the van in a wordless answer. 

Gareth leans out the driver’s side window, face screwed and sandy curls wild. “C’mon, Eddie!” the boy yells like an impatient younger brother. “Put your dick in your pants already so we can go!” 

Eddie’s head swivels back to face you again, chest deflating with a grieving sigh. 

“You have to go,” you tell him, soft and sympathetic, as you press another kiss to his pout. “Have fun, honey,” you croon and step back from him –– knowing exactly what you’re doing as you trek back up the wobbly wooden porch steps.

Before you shut the front door behind you, you flash the boy a curt wave and a pretty smile. It takes a world of strength to keep from following behind you. 

In a perfect world, Eddie would already have the door bolted shut with you pressed against it by now. He’d have your oversized shirt balled up at your ribs and your shorts pulled down to your ankles and his mouth licking over your pretty cotton panties.

He shakes his head in a physical attempt to remove the sinful thoughts from his brain as he stalks back to the van. He keeps his head bowed as he goes, trying to hide his reddened cheeks behind his wild curls. Gareth watches from the window as Eddie tugs at the crotch of his jeans, trying to un-strangle his hard cock like a teenager.

The boy leans between the front seats as Eddie climbs into the driver’s side, slamming the screeching door shut behind him. “You’re pathetic,” Gareth teases through a fit of boyish laughter.

“Shut up,” Eddie grumbles.

[toerrishumansodontbeone]

Damn I miss wanting to do art, what do you people even DO with your day?

[earlgraytay]

So, you've probably all seen this post going around, about how The Chuds Want Gentleman's Clubs (but can't afford to go to the things called "gentlemen's clubs" today, so wouldn't have been able to in the past either). And I hate to say it, but that post isn't accurate.

The things we call "gentlemen's clubs" today and the things that were called "gentleman's clubs" in the past are not the same thing; the one is descended from the other, but they used to be a lot more common and served a purpose that they don't really serve anymore.

The modern equivalent of the historical gentleman's club isn't the thing currently called a gentleman's club; it's the premium airport lounge. And by losing the concept for all but the turbo-rich, I think we genuinely have lost something! Let me explain.

(NOTA BENE: This is mostly about England and from about 1880-1930, and most of my experience with this is from fiction written in that era. I know enough to know what I don't know, but I also know menswear guy is wrong about this.)

So- gentlemen's clubs started in *wiggles hands* the late 1700s, and mostly served a particular purpose: they were places you could stay in a city if you mostly lived in the country, instead of staying in lodgings or owning your own place. Finding a place to stay in London was kind of a misery at the best of times, and owning your own house in Town wasn't practical for a lot of people, even rich people. If you were, say, a young man, just starting out in life, and you hadn't inherited your father's wealth but also weren't set up to live on your own? Having a place you were guaranteed to be able to stay was a fucking godsend. And as time went on, even people who lived in London most of the time started joining clubs, because they served another important purpose- they were a place you could go if you didn't particularly want to be at home, for whatever reason.

The way that historical gentlemen's clubs worked is, you got recommended to the club by a friend who was a member, you paid dues to the club, and in exchange, you'd get to use the club's facilities. * Most gentlemen's clubs had, at minimum, a dining room (with waitstaff, natch), a library, a couple of nice places to sit and hang out, a game room, and a bar. Many of them also had rooms you could sleep in overnight, fitness equipment, or stuff related to the club members' interests. Most of them had a room or two where you could invite friends who weren't part of your club and spend time with them. In the era where phones were a thing, a lot of them had a phone. You could write letters there and get your mail sent there.

Here's the thing: in the period I know best, gentlemen's clubs weren't just for the turbo-rich. They were the province of rich guys, yes- you had to be a 'gentleman' and know the right people to get in. But men who were doctor/lawyer/software-developer rich were most likely members of a gentlemen's club. Anyone who was rich enough to travel regularly was part of at least one club, because having somewhere to crash when you were going between (say) London and Delhi and back again was worth the cost.

Most gentlemen's clubs were owned by their members- not an outside corporate body. The club leaders were elected, usually by a small committee.

And a lot of gentlemen's clubs founded around specific interests, as time went on. There were gentlemen's clubs specifically for Guys Who Were Really Into Radio. There were clubs specifically for men who spent a lot of time traveling. There were clubs specifically for dudes who wanted to talk your ear off and clubs for old dudes who mostly wanted to nod off in their chairs and talk about The War and clubs for dudes who did not want to be percieved at all.

There were clubs for men who were really into science, or the arts, or sports. And one perk of being in a club like this is that you had access to equipment that you might not have been able to buy on your own. You didn't have to shell out for an entire library of scientific and medical books; you could go to your club and read in the library there. If your club had, say, an art studio, you could go paint at your club and not have to keep a studio space of your own.

There were gentlemen's clubs specifically oriented around specific political or social views. There were socialist clubs. (And a lot of them admitted women, which was !!!SCANDALOUS!!!) Like, they were still the province of goddamn rich people, there were a lot of trust fund baby socialists and not many working people, but there were socialist social clubs.

...I don't want to pretend that gentlemen's clubs were some kind of idyllic haven. 99% of these clubs were For Men, and For The Right Sort Of Men at that; if you didn't have a friend who was a member, or you weren't "respectable" enough, you didn't get to join. There's a reason that most of these clubs are gone now. Part of the point was excluding the Wrong Sort of People, and that became gauche over time. After a certain point, being part of a club became a thing for stodgy, out-of-touch rich men- not just "men who happened to have enough money to be part of a club"- and so most of the men who could join one didn't, and people stopped forming new ones. Only Old Money assholes (who will continue to do what they've always done, current trends be damned) keep the concept alive.

But like... the thing that replaced gentlemen's clubs for 99% of the people who would have had one a hundred years ago... is the premium airport lounge, and the premium gym membership, and the ~coworking hub~.** Anyone can join, yeah, as long as they're able to pay. You pay a corporation a chunk of money for similar amenities, and the amenities are ... fine? But because the entity is driven by profit, most of the money you're paying them goes into running their other business concerns and paying their CEOs a fat paycheck.

I think... as exclusionary as gentlemen's clubs were back in the day, there's the seed of a good idea there. I think the guys who wish they were still an attainable thing for a middle-class person have a point, and I wish we could inject some fucking nuance into this conversation.

A community-owned space that gives you a place to crash when you need one, has community-owned resources for its members, and isn't beholden to a corporation is a good thing. Third spaces that don't have to turn a profit are a damn good thing.

At the end of the day, my politics are 'everyone should get to have the kind of luxuries that were historically reserved for the rich'. Everyone should get to have the best life has to offer- leisure, beauty, good craftsmanship, and community. And so, you know, if this kind of community space sounds like a thing you'd like to have, maybe it's something you could work towards creating, too.

*TBF, this is still how they work today! But the networks are much smaller.

**I do find it very funny that apparently one of the biggest problems facing the few remaining Actual Gentlemen's Clubs (TM) is that people are trying to use their space to telework-- a lot of them are trying to ban laptops and business talk to "keep the club's character" (read: "we're too rich to have to work here").

[artbyblastweave]

Playing through Fallout:New Vegas for the first time in years. And I'm developing a newfound appreciation for the damage done to the intended pacing of the narrative with the addition of the Courier's Stash. I wake up in Goodsprings, and as part of the extended tutorial you have Ghosttown Gunfight, the fairly self-contained faction war between Goodsprings and the Powder Gangers. And the design intent, I think, is that this is probably supposed to be a pain in the ass, with only one or two avenues of support available to you given the low level at which you'll pick this one up. Six Powder Gangers, some in body-armor, would be a serious threat, and committing to fighting against that with your dinky 9mm and a varmint rifle seems like a rough time! An actual uphill battle, doing the right thing instead of the easy thing. Fortunately, Benny inexplicably left my handy 40mm grenade launcher in the grave with me, so I cleaned up.

I'm working my way south, and, you know, in a version of the game where Benny didn't inexplicably leave my handy 40mm grenade launcher in the grave with me, this would have been the knock-on effect of my "good" Karmic choice in defending Goodsprings; the road south is littered with powder gangers who'd have been neutral had I not kicked the hornet's nest. As it stands? Free experience. I hit Primm, and fighting through the cramped hallways of the Bison Steve I encounter an enemy armed with what was clearly supposed to be the first heavy weapon I'd encounter in the world. Tight Corridors. Inexplicable Grenade Launcher. I clean up. South I go to the Mojave outpost, Nipton, that whole thing. And clearly, clearly you aren't meant to take a swing at Vulpes here, right? You're supposed to take it in, get a sense for the legion. In the version of the game that shipped you're supposed to get bodied if you try to kick the beef gate here. There are allowances in the game for if you pull it off, sure, but I did try with just the service rifle, without the glorious first-strike capabilities afforded to me by the 40mm grenade launcher that Benny inexplicably left in the grave with me. It didn't go very well!

So now I'm dogged by Legion hit squads on my way to Novac, which I get the distinct impression was not the point in the game at which this was supposed to start happening to me, because I am gathering up some pretty expensive equipment, all sold for space. I punch through to Vegas, and at this stage, the clear developer intent is that you need to spend some time milling around Freeside or Camp McCarran in order to gain access to the Strip- do odd jobs to scrape up the money, buy the forgery from Mick and Ralphs, gain monorail access, get your science skill high enough to hack the robot. Get the lay of the land, get a feel for the people, send some time stewing in the human cost of House's walled garden before you head in and hear the pitch from the big man himself.

Except I've got 5000 caps from selling off all the legion killteam equipment. In I go!

And the fun thing is, right, the Courier's stash can't be diegetic, but it is having a very direct impact on the world here. A top legion guy just went down to my inexplicable 40mm grenade launcher. Whatever else I'm roleplaying as, I am roleplaying as a guy who woke up in the possession of an inexplicable 40mm grenade launcher, and neither I nor my character can plausibly ignore that fact given its terrible bloodstained utility. I play a man, a man who would be a good man, a man nonetheless bewitched by the terrible resolutory power of the grenade launcher. My best friend, the inexplicable 40mm grenade launcher! My worst enemy, the inexplicable 40mm grenade launcher!

[heavenlyraindrops]

“ᴏʙꜱᴇꜱꜱᴇᴅ.” | ᴋᴇɴᴊɪ ꜱᴀᴛᴏ x ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ | { ɪ }

☆ Warnings: profanity, sports!photographer!reader, fem!reader, afab!reader, for future chapters: social media au, eventual smut

☆ 1.3k words | Available on: Tumblr, AO3

A career in sports photography was never something your parents wanted for you- they had decided your career path since the moment you were born. A surgeon. Bound to make them plenty of money, to make them proud. They wanted it more than anything else, and…

You decided that wasn’t your problem. 

You researched the job, the career path, and began building a portfolio. Taking pictures of athletes at games, major ones and others such as college games. Mostly baseball. In fact, it was almost all baseball.  

Oh. College games. Baseball.

You’d attended college in the States, attending the baseball games and snapping pictures. And, for some reason, you seemed to gravitate towards one specific player. 

You had no idea what his name was.

You didn’t share any classes. You saw him around campus occasionally, but you weren’t one for parties so you had no chance of running into him at one of those. Your circles barely even touched. You didn’t know each other at all. 

Correction: he didn’t know you at all, and you only knew him as the hot athlete guy you took pictures of. 

-

“Another one?” Your friend, Taika grumbled, another one of your posts coming up on her feed. “[name], this is the fifteenth time you’ve posted this guy.”

You rolled your eyes, laptop balanced on your thigh as you edited a picture. “I’m just building my portfolio.”

“No one’s gonna hire you if your portfolio is just a million pictures of the same guy.”

“It’s not, there’s other pictures too.”

“Yeah, like, two.”

“Hyperbole much?”

Taika sighed aggressively, setting her phone-face down next to her as she leaned forward, face turning serious. “[name], is this some weird fetish? Kink?”

“What?” You almost threw your laptop at her. “You’re so dramatic. Obviously it’s not. What kind of kink would that even be?”

“Just admit you think he’s hot.”

You pressed your lips together, slamming your laptop shut. “Okay, get out.”

“But-!”

“Out!”

-

And that was that. You kept taking pictures of Mysterious Hot Athlete Guy,, eventually veering away from him in the end to expand your name. Your portfolio grew, you gained jobs, and your parents got increasingly frustrated until the point where they threatened to cut contact with you. 

You didn’t care. This was your passion. You’d much rather be on a pitch, capturing the essence of exhausted yet still exhilarated camaraderie than in a sterile surgeon’s scrub, brandishing a scalpel, cutting into flesh to expose your patients innards. 

Unfortunately they went through with the threat. Oh well. 

With the little savings you had, the weight of college debt for a degree you’d never use on your shoulders and your rather expensive camera equipment for which you’d somehow managed to scrape together the money for, you decided to follow Taika back to Japan.

“There’s plenty of opportunities for you there,” she told you.

Taika, being a trust fund baby, had more than enough of her parents' money to support herself, and you in Japan. You slowly grew your career and by a couple of months, you could afford to move into your own apartment. 

And now you were a- somewhat-well known sports photographer in the industry, despite never actually having a stable job, and… that was that. 

That was your story. 

But not the end of it.

Because after a good few months deep into your path of sports photography, a baseball player rose to stardom. 

Kenji Sato.

-

“Oh my god!” Taika grabbed onto your arm, nails digging into your skin and making you yelp as she thrust the phone in your face. “Dude! That’s the guy you had a crush on in college!”

Your face burned with embarrassment, and your voice was grating. “I didn’t have a crush on him.”

He just had a nice… bone structure.

Maybe I should have taken pictures of models for magazines or something. 

You looked at the article. Newest player on the field sparks talk of the rise of a new baseball legend. 

Oh damn. Maybe he should have been a model. 

“Kenji Sato,” Taika read out the name. “Dude, I swear this is the guy.” Pulling up your instagram account, she scrolled all the way to the bottom, at your earlier days of shooting. “Dude. That’s him.”

“It’s him,” you said weakly. She grinned at you, a knowing smirk that made you want to tear her hair out. 

-

Another stretch of time passed, until the days where your life was immediately thrust into a direction it did not give consent into going. 

Firstly, Ken Sato made headlines by coming back to Japan. Secondly, you’d landed a job at a baseball game in the Tokyo Dome. Thirdly, it was the game which the Yomiuri Giants were playing. 

You were now on the corner of the pitch, equipment set up, game in full play. The heat of the crowd pressed down on you as you angled your camera at a figure all too familiar. 

Fucking focus, [name].

The ball whizzed through the air. He hit it, arm and bat lashing out, and-

“Fuck!”

You cursed, jerking away from the camera set up and throwing your hands over your head. It fell to the ground, shattered, and the ball rolled across the ground, hitting your knee. 

You looked up. The crowd was roaring. Your head was ringing, feeling faint as you stared at the broken camera lying on the ground. Oh jeez, you were going to faint. Fuck, those players hit the ball hard.

You looked up and saw Ken Sato hurrying towards you. 

And that was when you fainted. 

-

Kenji Sato was going to fucking jump off of a bridge.

Pacing his living room, he dragged his hands through his hair, muttering a string of curses under his breath. “Mina, I’m so screwed.” He paused, looking at her hopefully. “Am I? Screwed, I mean.”

“That would be an interesting topic of debate, Ken.”

“Give me a proper answer, dammit!”

“You’ll be fine.”

“What about the girl?” He stopped suddenly, freezing in place. “I feel awful, you know.” Mina stared at him. “Yes, I can feel regret. Shocker.” He ran his hand through his hair, again. “I already replaced her broken stuff, right?” He looked sick. “Should I apologize? In person? Over text?”

“You could apologize over text,” Mina said.

Kenji immediately fell into the couch, pulling out his phone. “What’s her instagram account name?” Pulling it up, he scrolled through the photos. “[name] [surname], sports photographer,” he read aloud, eyes flicking down to the pictures. 

“She has taken photos for teams, articles, and even major sports magazines.” Mina flew down, hovering near his head as he scrolled curiously. 

“How many photos do you bet she’s got of me?”

“Would you like me to run a search?”

Ken looked up, surprised. “I was just kidding.” He dug his nail beneath his other nail, considering the offer, but Mina was already doing it. 

“Approximately ninety-seven out of two-hundred and twenty-nine images posted on her professional account include your face,” Mina concluded. Ken stared at her blankly. She remained silent for a few more seconds, letting it sink in, then spoke again. “I suggest scrolling to the very bottom of her account, her earliest days of photography, Ken.”

“Ninety-seven?” He asked incredulously, and Mina simply repeated her previous statement. Scroll down.

He did. It took him a while, but he finally managed to hit it, and-

“I’m in college in these.”

His eyes scanned the pictures on the screen- most of which were of him. College games, every one of them. He’d never noticed her in the crowd. Had he?

And there were so, so many.

He could feel heat creeping up his neck. He didn’t find it creepy, or stalkerish- not at all, but instead dared to feel a tiny bit flattered. 

Oh, she was obsessed with me. That’s kind of cute. 

He wondered if she still was. 

Taglist: @moonjellyfishie, @lovingyeet, @aise-30, @scarasw1f3, @v1ennie im only doing taglist this once but I’d prefer it if people just followed me instead because they’re such a hassle

[gamingheadsets-1]

GAMING LAPTOPS

Elevate Your Gaming Experience: A Guide to the Best Gaming Laptops

In the world of gaming, having the right laptop can make all the difference. With advancements in technology, gaming laptops have become more powerful, portable, and affordable than ever. Whether you’re a casual gamer or a professional esports player, there’s a gaming laptop out there that fits your needs. In this article, we will explore various types of gaming laptops, including high-performance models, lightweight options, and even 4K gaming laptops, ensuring you find the perfect match for your gaming adventures.

Understanding Gaming Laptops

Gaming laptops are specifically designed to handle the demands of modern games. With powerful processors, dedicated graphics cards, and high-refresh-rate displays, these machines provide an immersive gaming experience. Here’s a closer look at some of the top categories of gaming laptops available today.

Gaming Laptops: At their core, gaming laptops are built to deliver excellent performance across a wide range of games. They often feature high-speed CPUs and GPUs, ensuring smooth gameplay even in graphics-intensive titles. When shopping for a gaming laptop, consider factors like display quality, battery life, and thermal management to ensure a seamless gaming experience.

High-Performance Gaming Laptops: For serious gamers, high-performance gaming laptops are a must. These machines are equipped with top-of-the-line components, such as the latest processors and powerful graphics cards, allowing them to run the most demanding games at high settings. With features like customizable RGB lighting and advanced cooling systems, high-performance gaming laptops provide an edge in competitive gaming and create a visually stunning experience.

Lightweight Gaming Laptops: Portability is essential for gamers on the go, and lightweight gaming laptops deliver just that. These devices are designed to be thin and easy to carry, without compromising on performance. Lightweight gaming laptops often feature solid-state drives (SSDs) for faster load times and are perfect for those who want to game while traveling or commuting. With a sleek design and impressive battery life, you can enjoy gaming wherever you are.

4K Gaming Laptops: If stunning visuals are your priority, look no further than 4K gaming laptops. With a resolution of 3840 x 2160 pixels, these laptops offer incredible detail and clarity, making games come alive like never before. However, to fully utilize a 4K display, ensure your laptop is equipped with a powerful GPU capable of rendering graphics at such high resolutions. Perfect for gamers who appreciate stunning graphics and cinematic experiences, 4K gaming laptops provide an unparalleled level of immersion.

Affordable Gaming Laptops: Not everyone has the budget for a high-end gaming machine, and that’s where affordable gaming laptops come into play. These models offer solid performance without breaking the bank. They typically feature mid-range components that can handle most games at decent settings. When searching for an affordable gaming laptop, look for models with good reviews and a balance of performance and price. Many budget-friendly options still come equipped with impressive features, making them a great choice for entry-level gamers.

Conclusion

Finding the right gaming laptop is essential for maximizing your gaming experience. Whether you prefer high-performance machines, lightweight options for portability, stunning 4K visuals, or affordable solutions, there’s a gaming laptop tailored for you. At Gaming Paradise, we offer a diverse selection of gaming laptops designed to meet the needs of every gamer.

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[the-one-that-weeps]

Can we please talk about how awfully rich the project sekai cast is.

- More more jump is composed of three reformed idols. If that's not enough, they also do shows fairly often and I bet those tickets sell well.

- Shizuku is also a model.

- And if that's not enough, Papa Hinomori is a well known artist.

- the Tenmas are pretty rich (just take a look at their house).

- Also Ichika afforded to buy a Miku software so she's not poor either.

- Shinodad is also a well known artist, the Shinonomes live fairly comfortably if I remember correctly.

- Toya is like the second richest character in the game.

- Ken doesn't act rich but that doesn't mean he's not a well known artist and if you've read any of the vbs area convos you know the RADder copies still sell after all these years

- Emu is the richest character in the game. I don't think I even have to specify why. The Otoris literally own an airline.

- Wxs also do shows all the time. Ticket money part 2

- Kanadad probably struggled financially after his failure as an artist, but Kanade doesn't only make enough profit to survive but also pays Honami every week or so. Also, she has really neat equipment in her room, so Kanadad used to have a fair amount of cash.

- Everyone who goes at Miya girl is automatically rich. It's a PREP SCHOOL

- Also Mafumom pays Mafuyu for grad school and I don't think that's a cheap miracle.

- Not only that but Niigo are probably the most popular group out of the cast, their channel has a lot of followers and their videos get thousands of views. This actually makes me question if they like. Split the money somehow. Or do they just give it to Kanade because no way she's living off of her grandma's pension.

- imagine Niigo getting the youtube golden play button because I need this to actually happen now

[zoe-oneesama]

Zoe, 1. Can anyone have an angel or in this case champion in history or only chosen ones?

2. Are the identities open between the characters and their family or friends?

3. The story will be like a normal Miraculous, where there is the guardian, the heroes are chosen, Gabriel is a motherfucker (especially in relation to Adrien)

Anyone can have an angel! ...as long as you can afford it. It is a very expensive sport, with expensive equipment that is designed to constantly be damaged and need upkeep. It's not for everyone.

Identities are open! ...for most. Some characters, for their own individual reasons, keep their identity secret (for example, Adrien's father doesn't want him to play so he plays with a mask on).

The story is a No Magic AU. No Miraculouses, no Guardians, no "Heroes". But Gabriel will continue to suck (see example above lol). HOWever, with the lack of magic means that many of the characters are more limited than canon in what terrible actions they can take, and therefore, are not irredeemable.

I know the original Angelic Layer anime/manga is not super well known, but it was aimed at fairly young kids, so I'm sticking to a similar tone. And that tone is This is a Game, Games are Meant to be Fun, so Everyone Will Have Fun.

[not-fortune-cookie]

Hey just saw your writing and I adored it and I had an idea for a story drabble or if you like it enough...a series...basically y/n is a person who loves playing cookie run kingdom but wishes to live among them. Kinda like your...special cookie story but can imagine they are transported into the game as like a weak cookie...like a common cookie. Bet that would make the cookies VERY protective of them if they like y/n lol! As y/n just lives their life and wanders around...possibly even taken on some of the adventures to see more of the world by gingerbrave and his friends, they meet more cookies who adore em aaaand want to protect em!

Bonus if ya want: reader is like...an absolute shy bean who either has no idea how to fight oooor is a pacifist.

𝐍𝐨𝐭-𝐅𝐨𝐫𝐭𝐮𝐧𝐞 𝐂𝐨𝐨𝐤𝐢𝐞 𝐍𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐬:

Spoiler Alert— That's actually my concept on my story, "Wished Fulfilled". [Y/N] is called the Ruler; or most authors put it-- Baker. But in my story, they're just [Y/N] Cookie. Unique category but the weakest among the Cookies. Also, thank you for the compliments! I appreciate your kind words. I'll try finish the story soon!

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

                You love to decorate the [Name] Kingdom. You are their Ruler after all even it's only a day when you transmigrated into the game. However, since you didn't know how to be a cookie, there are some downsides. Especially that you're the weakest among the kingdom and its residents.

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

                You are quite a crumbling little thing. Your dough hasn't baked into a crispy one and your soul hadn't settled yet with your vessel. You're not allowed to be up and about yet, your legs are shaky and you're like a newborn.

                Don't worry your pretty little head, Pure Vanilla Cookie is kind and gentle with you. Standing by your side every step of the way as you practice. You're so shaky and weak, you easily fell down flat on the grass whenever you let go of your trusty staff. No wonder some of the Cookies have them—

                Every step you injure yourself, the Healer cookie never hesitated to erase each scratch from your dough. He watches your every move and even offer a hand when you need to. Eventually you'll get accustomed to your body soon enough.

                But that doesn't mean the Ancient hero will not be so protective. The young cookies can be rambunctious and run to you out of excitement to finally meet you. So he is alert and telling the young ones to not overwhelm you so much.

                Just don't traverse too far from him. He can't afford you to get injured without him to aid you. But he trusts Espresso to handle your curiosity of your Kingdom.

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

                This situation made Espresso Cookie appoint a research for you to easily maneuver your new body. For such a Cookie like yourself, someone who the Ancient Cookie cares for, the scientist had made sure of it that you are well taken care of.

                Despite his busy schedule, Espresso Cookie uncharacteristically dropped his current research to leash you near him. He constantly has to panic whenever his sight isn't on you. He is already disheveled and in distress before he can finally find you among the deep forest that leads to adventure to Crispia.

                But the leash he had on you won't let you travel far. He can't let you go deep in dangers out there. The Kingdom is nothing without their ruler and you had just get here.

                He has to get the best distraction for you. Do you like shiny things? He has some trinkets you can play in his laboratory. Despite not wanting anyone to disorganize his tools, he may allow you to clean up his equipment as long as you don't get far from the premises of the Kingdom.

                But eventually you got away and curiosity got the best of you. What danger lays outside the Kingdom that made Pure Vanilla Cookie and Espresso Cookie forbid you to get far?

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

                That's when Red Velvet Cookie find you. He lost chiffon one time and some of his cakehounds when he encountered the frail you.

                Red Velvet Cookie knew the cookies that built a kingdom for the Ruler to arrive. He was expecting someone so powerful and as vile as the residents of [Name] Kingdom that harm his precious hounds. But the way you let the little ones cuddle up to you and hesitate to even have a thought of laying a hand of them. The cookie of darkness is intrigued by your pacifism.

                So he approached you, promising himself to protect you from harm as you adore and spoil the cakehounds that refused to leave you.

                You're part of his family now, despite being on the 'good' side.

I hope this is satisfactory for a drabble :]

[littledovesnow]

the sound of snow

request: coriolanus with a girlfriend (wife in this case) who has hearing damange from the war

word count: 2.2k

content warnings: coriolanus being kinda awful in his speech but it's canon sooo, lucky flickerman trying to make a joke (spoiler: it doesn't land well), i think that's it?

a/n: ok i am not d/Deaf/HoH but i do have friends and former classmates who are, and i've done research before writing this. please correct me if i am wrong about anything. i left some things vague (such as hearing loss level), but overall i think it's decent?

also italics are when there's sign language being used :)

also also i had like three title ideas for this but i feel like they're all so bad but i liked this one the best

-----

Coriolanus had first met you back when you were both still wet behind the ears, unsure of how to navigate life after the Dark Days. His family had taken a direct hit when District 13 was no longer, his family’s fortune plundering into the depth unknown. Your family, however, had to face a different setback: a few rather close bomb blasts had stolen a majority of your hearing.

Coming from an affluent family, you were able to afford a private tutor growing up, teaching you and your family sign language, though as you grew old enough you were fit for a hearing aid in the left ear—the only one with enough hearing left to make it worthwhile.

All the while, you and Coriolanus never turned your backs on each other, choosing to let each other in on your trials and tribulations, knowing secrets were safe between the two of you. He had thus learned sign language from being in your home so often, Tigris and the Grandma’am having picked up on some of the more common phrases.

When you were both of age to begin at the Academy, your father fought tooth and nail with the Dean to ensure you were well-equipped with an interpreter when necessary, though you often went without one as you grew tiresome of the stares from your classmates.

During the 10th Annual Hunger Games, you say alongside Coriolanus as you two watched the tributes battle for victory, both celebrating when Lucy Gray was crowned the victor, both unaware of what fate waited your boyfriend the following day.

His stint in District 12 was something you two rarely spoke on, choosing to forget those few disastrous months while you were separated, you back in the Capitol studying at University while Coriolanus learned the hard way what it meant to be a Peacekeeper, to learn what it feels like to betray a friend, to learn what true power felt like.

Dr. Gaul had spoken to you prior to calling Coriolanus back to the Capitol, wanting your input if he would be a considerable candidate for her Gamemaker Apprenticeship, to which you informed her it was one of the biggest honors he would have wished for. Thus, Coriolanus was recalled back to the Capitol, back to you, where he stood alongside Dr. Gaul to prepare for years of Hunger Games, eventually landing as a true Gamemaker as Dr. Gaul began to take steps back in preparation for her retirement.

One day, however, Coriolanus had told her he was interested in becoming Panem’s next president, with Felix Ravinstill gone and no other heirs of the title, an election would take place. It was no surprise to the Head Gamemaker when the blonde brought the idea up, having seen him yearn and hunger for the coveted presidential position since he was fresh out of the Academy.

It came as no shock when he was announced at the Panem’s next president, you alongside of him as the First Lady. The country never knew what would become of the young couple, stars and revenge in their eyes.

-----

Coriolanus knew where he could find you once he returned from the Citadel, having met with Dr. Gaul for the upcoming 25th Hunger Games. He wanted them to be more of a spectacle than usual, to commemorate the quarter century since the end of the war.

He ignored the Avox who had opened the door to the private wing of the mansion, ignored the Avox who had his usual glass of whiskey waiting on a silver platter.

Opening the door to the greenhouse, Coriolanus’ eyes lit up as he saw you carefully pruning the rose bush planted in memorial of the Grandma’am. “Love?”

You looked up, and Coriolanus smiled when he realized your hearing aid was still in. You usually chose not to wear it while at home, preferring the comfortable silence from time to time.

“How was your day?” He asked, helping you untie the gardening smock you wore to protect the clothing underneath.

“It was fine, uneventful.” You replied, looking at the garden around the two of you. “How was Volumnia?”

Coriolanus was still gobsmacked that Dr. Gaul allowed his wife to call her by her first name, only a select few Capitol citizens were granted that honor, though he was one of them.

“She misses you, asked that you stop by sometime for lunch.” Coriolanus mused, plucking a rose out of the bunch in the vase. “Maybe you can help her come up with some new strategies for The Games, she loved your idea of stocking some food in the middle.”

You felt your cheeks heat up, not expecting the silly idea of arming the tributes with food to be such a hit in the Captiol. Betting had been at an all-time high for the tributes who had been able to get their hands on the stale, tasteless protein bars.

“I’ll see if she’s available on Thursday.” You knew the mad scientist would make room any day to meet with you. She had a soft spot for you, no one was quite sure why.

“You can ask her this evening, since we have that awful gala to start preparing for The Games.”

You looked at your husband, clearly forgetting about the gala. “I forgot that was tonight. I wouldn’t have pruned the roses if I had known.”

Coriolanus, who was cold-hearted and strict in public, simply waved off the nonissue. “You wore gloves, a smock, you look as beautiful as ever.”

You pressed your lips to his, disappearing to the bathroom for a shower prior to getting ready.

-----

 Attending Capitol galas and evening events as First Lady of Panem was something you weren’t sure you would ever get used to. Cameras flashing, various news outlets trying to get a snippet of you and Coriolanus talking, microphones in your faces.

Not that they would get anything, as Coriolanus was only going to give hints at his next political plans, life events, anything really, to Lucky Flickerman, who he had become rather close with following his mentorship in the Academy.

“D’you want anything to drink?” Coriolanus asked, lips brushing on the shell of your left ear.

Nodding, you two moved over to the bar for a couple glasses of posca before starting the endless circle of meeting politicians, thanking Capitol elites for their support, and the nagging question of when you two would start a family.

You had eventually been able to break free from the conversation you and Coriolanus were stuck in when Lucky Flickerman himself took the spot in behind the podium, preparing to start the night’s speeches.

Taking your seats, you felt Coriolanus place his arm on the back of your chair, hand brushing up and down the back your right bicep, goosebumps breaking out in the area.

As Lucky began his speech, you moved closer to your husband, whispering in his ear, “I can’t understand what he’s saying.”

Coriolanus looked back at you, noticing the missing hearing aid, eyebrow raised.

“I forgot to put it back in after my shower.”

Without missing a beat, Coriolanus shifted in his seat and began to interpret the speeches for you, ignoring the not-so-subtle looks you two were getting, mainly from newer guests who weren’t used to seeing the president use sign language.

At the conclusion of Lucky’s speech, a Capitol employee scuttled over to the First Couple.

“President Snow, we can have an Avox translate if you’d like.”

Frowning, Coriolanus shook his head. “That’s alright, I can interpret for my wife.”

The employee didn’t seem to expect that response, simply blinking at the couple.

“Is that a problem?” Coriolanus asked, ignoring your hand on his knee.

“N-no, not at all. I just- you’re expected to make a speech tonight, too.” The employee tried to backpedal, not wanting to ruin his career tonight.

You chose this moment to speak up, not wanting Coriolanus to overreact. “It’s fine, Coryo’s quite apt at making sure I know what’s going on. Why don’t you be a dear and get me a glass of wine?”

The employee was quick to leave the conversation, and Coriolanus looked at you. “You’re too kind to them.”

Shrugging, you took the full glass without so much as a glance in the employee’s direction. “Someone has to be.”

Coriolanus let out an airy laugh as he stood up, dusting off some nonexistent crumbs from his burgundy suit. He squeezed your arm before departing from your side, taking his place where Lucky Flickerman had left open, the weatherman-turned-host made sure to give his hand a shake as they exchanged pleasantries.

 Giving everyone a moment to settle down, Coriolanus cleared his throat before beginning, shocking nearly everyone in the room as he used both his voice and hands to conduct the speech.

“The Twenty-Fifth Hunger Games are right around the corner, so I thought I would give you all a twist I’m putting into the Reaping ceremony this year, and potentially the following Reapings. Dr. Gaul and I have had numerous discussions about how tributes are elected, and from prior games being rigged, we have initiated a couple updates to the ceremony and process.”

You were curious of the updates Coriolanus was talking about, unaware he was still dipping his toes into Gamemaking.

“Rather than each District’s mayor or elected spokesperson calling the names, we will have someone from the Capitol pull names. It will eliminate the possibility for rigging the tributes. In addition, who really wants to watch groups of children kill each other? With Reaping eligibility starting at age twelve, the Gamemakers and I have decided to increase the number of entries one gets as they age. When they reach the age of eighteen, each possible tribute will be entered into the Reaping six times.”

You weren’t able to hear everyone’s whispers, but you could see them looking at each other, taking in the news.

Coriolanus concluded his speech by introducing Dr. Gaul’s assistant, as the Head Gamemaker had something come up rendering her unable to attend the gala.

When he returned to your side, you looked him up and down. “Some updates, huh? Whose idea were they?”

Coriolanus had a smirk on his face, simply bringing his glass of posca to his lips.

-----

After all of the speeches were finished, some music began to play, letting the now tipsy and drunk Capitol elite take the dancefloor with eager steps.

Lucky Flickerman meandered over to where you and Coriolanus were still seated, discussing what Tigris deserved for her upcoming birthday.

“Not going to share a dance tonight?” He asked, looking between the two of you.

“Oh, Lucky, you should now, we don’t really dance. Only for the most special of occasions.” Coriolanus smiled, twisting the wedding band around his finger.

You wore a matching smile, though your reply wasn’t quite what Lucky expected. “And besides, Lucky, I’m not the best dancer if I can’t hear the music. You should have seen the first time we tried to dance together in the Academy.”  

The mustached man opened his mouth like he was going to reply, but nothing came out except for a chuckle.

Coriolanus hid his smile behind the glass of water he had switched to, not able to tolerate the posca and wine like he had before.

It was one of his favorite moments after you two had officially started dating. The Academy had their annual prom, though it tended to be more of a fashion show than dance, as many students arrived in extravagant outfits that were ill-suited for dancing.

You had been in a sparking silver dress, heels a gift from your mother, red-tinted lips dropping when Coriolanus asked you to dance with him.

It had been enough missteps to last a lifetime, but the two of you took it in stride, promising each other to get a proper dance instructor before your first dance at the wedding years later.

“I do hate to break up the fond memory, honey, but we should be heading out.”

Coriolanus downed the rest of his water before standing, lending you his arm as you two bid goodnight to your friends and Coriolanus’ closest colleagues, before disappearing from the gala.

-----

You walked out of the bathroom from taking your makeup off to see Coriolanus sitting on the bed, sheets pulled back for your arrival.

“Who are you thinking will be the Capitol’s representative for the Reaping?” You asked, mind still going back to the Reaping updates.

Coriolanus closed the book he was reading, eyes looking you up and down as you climbed into the bed. “I don’t know yet. Why, do you have anyone in mind?”

You shrugged, pulling the sheets up to your chest, yawn escaping your lips. “No one in particular, but I’m sure I could come up with some names.”

Coriolanus laughed, setting his book on the nightstand next to him. “We can talk about it when you’re not going to fall asleep in mere minutes. Goodnight, love.”

“Mm, ‘night, Coryo.” You whispered, letting Coriolanus’ soft breathing and the distant sounds of sirens lull you to sleep.

-----

a/n: hey was this good should i do more in this universe let me know

[mediocre-shark-tales]

Brazilian GP part 2

Masterlist

Trigger Warning- slow burn of increasing themes including sexism, SA, depression, and implied grooming

Returning to the paddock for the sprint race, I focused on one thing: the job. The rain hadn’t come yet, but the air was thick with humidity, and the dark clouds rolling in on the horizon promised it wouldn’t hold off for long. As I climbed into my car, I pushed every stray thought out of my head. This was my escape. The only time Henry couldn’t get to me was when I was strapped into the cockpit.

The sprint race itself went well. I pushed hard, held my position, and finished P3 again. Behind Lando and Oscar, I couldn’t help but feel satisfied with my consistency, but there was still a fire burning in my chest, a determination to do even better in the main race. For now, though, I basked in the small victory.

After pulling into parc fermé and handling the brief celebrations with my team, I made my way back to the garage. That’s when I saw him—Henry. His smirk stretched across his face as he stood by my workstation, arms crossed like he owned the place. I immediately felt my stomach churn.

The weather had taken a turn for the worse, delaying the next session. Rain lashed against the paddock’s roof, and thunder rumbled ominously in the distance. Teams were stuck in their garages, waiting for updates from the FIA. It felt like the world was put on pause, and unfortunately for me, that meant I was stuck with Henry.

I tried to keep busy, double-checking data with the other engineers and chatting with Landon when I could. But Henry was like a shadow, following me wherever I went. His presence was suffocating, his comments laced with the same inappropriate undertones that made my skin crawl.

“Staying dry in here, sweetheart?” he asked as I passed by, his voice dripping with mock concern.

I ignored him, but he wasn’t deterred. He leaned against the table where I was reviewing some data and lowered his voice. “You know, I’ve been thinking... You’ve been looking really tense lately. Maybe after this weekend, we can spend some one-on-one time. You know, help you unwind.”

My jaw clenched, and I felt my fingers curl into fists at my sides. I didn’t trust myself to speak without snapping, so I stayed silent, my eyes glued to the tablet in front of me.

Henry chuckled, clearly amused by my lack of response. “Silent treatment, huh? That’s fine. I like a challenge.”

I needed to get away from him. Grabbing the tablet, I stood abruptly and made my way to the other side of the garage, pretending to check something with one of the mechanics. But no matter where I went, Henry was always close behind. It was like a game to him, and I was the unwilling participant.

At one point, I slipped into the back of the garage, trying to find some space to breathe. But Henry followed, cornering me near the equipment racks. His eyes glinted with something that made my skin crawl, and I pressed myself against the wall, desperate to put distance between us.

“Why so shy today?” he asked, his tone low and teasing. “You know, you don’t have to be so uptight around me. I don’t bite... unless you want me to.”

That was it. My breaking point was so close I could feel it bubbling under the surface. But I couldn’t afford to lose my composure, not here, not now. Instead, I forced myself to look him in the eye, my voice steady but cold. “Henry, I’m not in the mood for this. Back off.”

He smirked, leaning in just enough to make my pulse quicken. “Oh, come on. Don’t be like that. We’re just having a little fun.”

I stepped past him, my entire body trembling with frustration and disgust. I needed air, space—anything to escape him. But the rain still poured outside, trapping me in this nightmare of a garage.

The FIA announcement came through the garage speakers, crackling to life over the ambient noise of the rain hammering against the roof.

"Attention, teams. Due to the persistent rain and worsening conditions, qualifying will be moved to a slot a few hours ahead of the originally scheduled race time tomorrow. This will allow us to monitor for a potential break in the weather. Further updates will follow."

I felt a wave of relief wash over me. This was my chance to escape, at least for now. As soon as the announcement ended, I grabbed my things and slipped out of the garage. The quicker I got to my driver’s room, the less likely Henry would have a chance to corner me again. My heart pounded as I walked briskly through the bustling paddock, my eyes darting around to make sure he wasn’t following me.

Once inside the sanctuary of my driver’s room, I locked the door behind me and leaned against it, exhaling deeply. I allowed myself a moment to breathe before gathering my thoughts and changing into my casual clothes. The sooner I was out of here, the safer I’d feel.

As I finished changing, I peeked out the door, scanning the hallway for any sign of Henry. When I didn’t see him, I let out a small sigh of relief. For once, it looked like luck was on my side. Slinging my bag over my shoulder, I stepped out and made my way toward the paddock exit, keeping my head low and moving quickly.

Just as I was about to turn the corner, I nearly collided with someone. Looking up, I saw Franco Colapinto grinning down at me.

“Hey! You’re in a rush. Everything okay?” he asked, his tone light and friendly.

I plastered on my best fake smile, pushing down the lingering nerves. “Yeah, just trying to beat the rain back to the hotel. You know how it is.”

Franco chuckled, adjusting the strap of his bag. “True. I don’t envy whoever’s on the FIA’s weather team right now. Anyway, I was going to ask—do you want to join us for dinner tonight? I invited Alex and Lando, too. Figured it’d be good to unwind before tomorrow.”

I hesitated for a moment, my instincts telling me to retreat to my hotel room and hide for the rest of the evening. But the thought of being surrounded by friends, even for a little while, sounded comforting. And besides, Franco’s friendly demeanor was hard to resist.

“That sounds great,” I replied, the smile on my face feeling a little more genuine this time. “What time?”

“Let’s meet in the hotel lobby around seven,” he said. “We’ll figure out where to go from there.”

“Perfect. I’ll see you then,” I said, giving him a small wave before continuing toward the exit.

As I stepped out into the rain-soaked paddock, I felt a flicker of hope amidst the chaos. For a few hours tonight, I could pretend everything was normal. Even if I had to put on a brave face, I’d take any reprieve I could get.

Returning to the hotel felt like stepping into a sanctuary. The ride back had been quiet, giving me time to stew in my thoughts, but the moment I stepped into my room, I set my bag down and headed straight for the bathroom.

I didn’t just want to shower—I needed to scrub every trace of Henry’s words and his unwelcome touches from my skin. Turning the water as hot as I could bear, I stepped under the stream and let it pour over me, cleansing not just the grime of the day but the lingering weight of his actions. I scrubbed at my arms and shoulders, imagining I could wash away the memory of his arm around me, his hand gripping my waist. By the time I turned the water off, my skin was pink from the heat and friction, but I felt lighter, freer.

Wrapping myself in a towel, I leaned against the bathroom counter and took a moment to steady my breathing. Tonight wasn’t about Henry, I reminded myself. It was about Franco, Alex, and Lando—people who didn’t make me feel small or uncomfortable. I dried off and slipped into a pair of comfortable jeans and a sweater before tying my hair back loosely. With a glance in the mirror, I forced myself to smile. It didn’t quite reach my eyes, but it was a start.

At exactly seven, I stepped out of the elevator into the hotel lobby. The boys were already there, chatting and laughing. Franco spotted me first, waving me over with a bright grin.

“Perfect timing!” he said, his energy contagious. “You ready?”

“Always,” I replied, smiling back as Alex and Lando turned to greet me.

“Glad you could make it,” Alex said warmly, giving me a quick hug.

“You’re not allowed to bail halfway through, by the way,” Lando added with a smirk. “We’re keeping you hostage for the evening.”

“Oh, no,” I teased, feigning horror. “Guess I’m stuck with you guys then.”

They laughed, and just like that, I felt a little more at ease. We piled into a car Franco had arranged, and he directed the driver to a small, tucked-away restaurant he’d found online. It was styled like a quaint town eatery, the kind of place that served hearty, comforting meals with a side of charm.

Inside, the atmosphere was warm and inviting, with rustic wooden tables, dim lighting, and the smell of freshly baked bread wafting through the air. We grabbed a table near the back, and before we’d even ordered, the banter started.

“So,” Franco began, leaning forward with a grin. “What’s the over-under on Alex spilling his drink tonight?”

Alex rolled his eyes. “One time. It happened one time.”

“And yet, it lives rent-free in my memory,” Lando quipped, dodging Alex’s playful swat.

As the night went on, I found myself relaxing more and more. The boys were effortlessly funny, their lighthearted teasing pulling me out of my own head. When the food arrived—big plates of pasta, burgers, and fries—we dove in like we hadn’t eaten in days.

“So, what’s everyone’s game plan for tomorrow?” Franco asked between bites.

“Win,” Lando said confidently, earning a laugh from everyone.

“Revolutionary strategy,” I teased, shaking my head.

“And you?” Alex asked, looking at me curiously.

I hesitated for a moment, but their expectant faces made it impossible not to answer. “Honestly? Just survive the chaos. If the rain comes like they’re saying, it’s going to be wild out there.”

“You’ll do more than survive,” Franco said firmly. “You’re the rain master, remember? We’ll all be trying to keep up with you.”

I laughed softly, grateful for the confidence he had in me. The conversation continued, moving from racing to random topics like who could do the worst impression of their team principals (spoiler: it was Lando). By the time we left the restaurant, my cheeks hurt from smiling and laughing so much.

As we walked back to the car, Lando nudged me lightly. “See? I told you tonight would be good.”

“You’re not wrong,” I admitted, feeling a warmth in my chest that I hadn’t felt in a long time. For a few hours, I’d been able to forget the weight of everything else and just enjoy the company of my friends. And for that, I was endlessly grateful.

The morning of the race was a whirlwind of nerves and anticipation. I stood in front of the mirror in my hotel room, mentally preparing myself for the challenge ahead. Today was a new day, and no matter what had happened leading up to this moment, I was going to race like it was my last. The pressure from Henry and the team’s constant expectations weighed on me, but I refused to let it break me. Not today.

After going through my usual routine of getting ready—gearing up, double-checking everything—I made my way to the paddock. The moment I stepped foot into the familiar environment, I could already feel the tension mounting. Of course, Henry was the first to spot me. As usual, he had a comment or two to make as I walked past him, his gaze lingering longer than necessary. His voice had that familiar smugness, but today I had one thing on my mind: get into the car and forget about him.

I didn’t let his presence affect me; I couldn’t afford to. I gave the bare minimum responses, nodding along as he made more remarks, his tone still pushing boundaries. His touch lingered longer than I wanted, but I kept my focus on the goal. I was here to race, not to let him ruin this for me.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, I made my way to the car. Once I was suited up and strapped in, the world outside of the cockpit faded. It was just me and the machine. The roar of the engines, the feel of the track beneath my tires—I was in my element. Qualifying started, and the nerves I’d been holding back finally seemed to evaporate.

But the track wasn’t as wet as I’d anticipated. The rain had calmed down to a drizzle, and the surface was surprisingly dry. That meant I couldn’t push as hard as I’d wanted, and the lap times didn’t reflect the pace I knew I was capable of. When I crossed the line, I felt a pang of disappointment. P5. Not terrible, but not what I had hoped for. Still, I couldn’t let it get to me. There was still the race, and I could make up for it.

The starting grid was a blur, and before I knew it, the lights went out. As we all took off, the rain came back in full force, and my confidence surged. This was my domain—racing in the rain was second nature to me, and I could feel myself carving through the field. It was almost effortless.

I overtook car after car, inching closer to the front. The rain never let up, but it didn’t bother me. I was in the zone. By the time I reached P3, I had a surge of pride—this was where I belonged. But the track was starting to get dangerous. The spray from the cars was so thick, visibility was reduced to almost nothing.

Then came the call.

"Bring your delta positive," Landon’s voice crackled over the radio. "Yellow flags. Be careful."

I felt the pit of my stomach drop. Yellow flags weren’t a good sign, and I could hear the tension in his voice as the tone of the message shifted. "We’ve got reds, we’ve got reds!" he said, loud and clear.

"What’s going on?" I asked, my hands tightening on the wheel.

"Franco has spun and crashed," Landon replied, his voice thick with concern. "We don’t know if he’s okay yet."

My heart skipped a beat. Franco. My mind raced with worry, the thought of him hurt gnawing at me. I had to swallow the lump in my throat, focusing on my breathing to calm myself. I needed to know he was alright.

"Franco, please be okay," I whispered under my breath.

The tension felt suffocating as I continued to slow and adjust my pace. It felt like an eternity before the radio came back on.

"Franco’s fine," Landon said, a slight relief in his voice. "He’s out of the car, shaken up but okay."

I let out a breath I hadn’t realized I was holding. Franco was fine. But the weight of the situation still hung in the air.

I made my way into the pit lane, my mind still racing. The red flags meant the session would be paused, and we’d have to wait it out. As I pulled into my pit box, I let out a slow, steady breath, still shaken but thankful. The team was already working hard to keep me updated, but for the moment, I had to reset.

I couldn’t let my emotions take over. I still had a race to finish.

As the red flags finally lifted, I found myself back on the track, adrenaline coursing through my veins. The rain had only intensified, turning the surface into a treacherous challenge. Visibility was at an all-time low, and the spray from the cars ahead of me blurred everything around. Every inch of the track felt like a gamble.

The lights went out again, and we were racing once more. I quickly regained my focus, the familiar rhythm of the car returning beneath me. I knew this track like the back of my hand, but today, it was a whole different beast. The rain made everything unpredictable. My heart was still pounding in my chest, but I pushed it aside, keeping my focus sharp. This was the moment where I had to trust my instincts and my training.

As the laps wore on, I found myself battling alongside some of the best drivers on the grid, feeling the pressure building up. Then came the moment that would define the rest of the race.

Carlos and I were side by side on one of the straights, inches apart, both of us fighting for the same piece of real estate. It was going well until, suddenly, Carlos’s car began to aquaplane. His back end snapped out, and in the blink of an eye, he was off the track. Instinctively, I tried to react, but it was too late—my car was already slipping, too. The moment my tires lost grip with the wet track, I felt the dreaded sensation of aquaplaning.

My heart leaped into my throat as the car began to slide. I fought the wheel, trying to regain control, but it felt like the world was spinning out of control. Carlos was already in the gravel, but I had a split second to save myself. I yanked the wheel, bringing the car around in a full 360 spin. Time slowed down as I felt the car slide and twirl, but somehow, by sheer force of will, I managed to keep the tires pointing in the right direction.

It wasn’t over yet. The car didn’t want to cooperate. As soon as I regained control of the wheel, the back end started to drift into the next corner. I could feel the tires barely gripping the surface as the car skated dangerously, but I didn’t panic. My fingers tightened on the wheel, my foot on the throttle, and I steered the car back into line.

Somehow, I managed to correct the slide, keeping my position. No spinouts, no off-track excursions. I hadn’t lost anything—except maybe a few heartbeats—and I was still in P3. The radio crackled to life as I rejoined the racing line.

"y/n, that was some incredible driving," Landon said, his voice a mix of relief and admiration. "You’re still in it—keep it up."

I allowed myself a small exhale of relief, but I knew this wasn’t over. The rain was still coming down hard, and the conditions were only going to get worse.

Behind me, Max was gaining on me. He was hungry, and I could feel the pressure building with every corner I took. Esteban and Pierre were still in front of me, but I knew it was only a matter of time before the battle for P3 would turn into a fight for the win.

As the laps ticked down, I had to remind myself that I wasn’t just here to survive—I was here to win. I would prove to everyone that I could handle anything, even when it felt like the world around me was falling apart. I wasn’t going to let the conditions, or the pressure, take me down. This was my race, and I wasn’t going to let anyone take it from me.

The final laps felt like a blur, a perfect mix of instinct and skill. I could hear the tires screeching as the rain continued to pour, but it was as if I had found my rhythm, my comfort in the chaos. Pierre and Esteban were still holding strong in front of me, but I could feel them starting to struggle with the conditions. The track was slick, every corner becoming more and more treacherous with each passing second.

I wasn’t going to let this opportunity slip away. I focused on the corners where they faltered, waiting for my chance. As we hit the straight, I pulled out from behind Esteban, my eyes fixed on the gap between him and Pierre. I knew exactly how much grip I had, and I wasn’t going to waste it.

I closed the distance with a calculated precision, then took the inside line into the next corner. Esteban was slow on the brakes, his car sliding just slightly in the rain, and I dove past him before he could react. In an instant, I was on Pierre's tail, my heart pounding in my chest.

He wasn’t giving up easily, but the rain was a relentless opponent, and I could see the strain in his movements. With one final push, I threaded my car through the corner in a perfect line, pulling ahead of him just as we came to the final stretch.

I could hear the roar of the engine in my ears, the tires biting into the wet tarmac, and my heartbeat syncing with the rhythm of the car. And then, just as the checkered flag waved ahead of me, I surged forward, crossing the line in first place.

The moment the race ended, a rush of emotion hit me, and I heard Landon’s voice crackle through the radio, full of excitement. “You did it! Master of racing in the rain, huh? I think the storm has nothing on you.”

I couldn't help but laugh, the tension lifting as the weight of the victory finally set in. "Maybe I’ve just got a magic touch on the wet tracks," I teased. "Looks like the rain’s not the only thing I can control today."

Landon chuckled on the other end. "Whatever it is, you crushed it. Proud of you."

As I slowed the car to a stop, the pit crew and team stood at the barriers, all cheering and clapping. The adrenaline that had kept me sharp during the race now flowed freely, and I allowed myself a moment to soak it in. I had done it. I had conquered the storm.

The podium ceremony was a blur of smiles, flashing cameras, and cheers, but for a moment, I allowed myself to truly savor the victory. The rain may have been relentless, but it hadn’t stopped me from coming out on top. I glanced over at Pierre and Esteban, both grinning ear to ear as we all stood side by side on the podium.

"Finally!" Esteban chuckled, holding up his trophy, the relief in his voice palpable. "It’s been a long time coming, but this is worth it."

Pierre nodded, his eyes sparkling with pride. "You’ve been quick all season, Y/N. Well-deserved. I’m just happy to be up here with you."

I grinned back at them, genuinely happy for their success. It was a long time coming for both of them, and I could tell how much this podium meant to them. Seeing their joy, their sense of achievement, made the victory feel even more meaningful.

We all raised our trophies high, basking in the moment as the crowd cheered. But as the noise of the celebration filled my ears, my eyes couldn't help but wander to the crowd below.

I caught sight of Henry, his smug expression standing out among the rest of the team. His eyes locked with mine, and for a moment, the joy of the podium felt distant, overshadowed by that familiar, disgusting feeling.

I couldn’t shake it. That sickening reminder that despite my hard work, my success, there was still something toxic lingering in the background. I forced myself to smile as I stood there, trying to shake off the unease creeping up from my gut. The team’s cheers filled the air, but all I could hear was the thought of the media duties that awaited me. I would have to face Henry again.

As the ceremony wrapped up and we made our way down from the podium, the momentary elation of the win started to fade, and reality hit me again. I tried to push the thoughts out of my head, focusing on the next step. But I knew deep down that the weight of what I was still facing wasn’t going to go away just because I’d crossed the finish line in first place.

I had a lot to prove, not just on the track, but off it too. And the hardest part? Getting through the next few hours, knowing what was waiting for me after the cameras stopped flashing.