#aiming to get it up saturday at the latest :^)

[nerdanel01]

you know what *wips your wednesday at the last minute*

from the next for love is strong as death update:

Most days, the charade worked. Whomever she awoke as, by the time she had cleaned herself and dressed, she was Rook, whom Varric had recruited: Rook of the back-alley gaatlock deals by the Minanter River docks; Rook, regular brawler of the underground dueling ring of Dock Town’s Dancing Cobra; Rook, who was straightforward and capable, confident, collected—even, occasionally, charming.

Agnes Gallatus had been buried alive, interred in the cold, dreary cellar of Rook’s heart.

But when her soul was quiet, she could hear Agnes’ fingernails scraping the inner lining of the coffin box—hear the raw-throated screams of her former self—only barely muffled by the wood and the masonry that encased her, begging to be freed from her premature entombment, desperate for air.

And now—grey eyes aflame with fury and heartbreak, her features lit blue in the ethereal glow of the meditation room’s aquarium—the face reflected in Varric’s shaving mirror, staring back at her, was entirely Agnes’ face: raging, spiteful, wounded.

Clumsily, unartfully, ducking her head to keep sight of her reflection, she wielded Harding’s sewing shears in her right hand, holding her hair to the blades with her left; as she snipped, cutting back the fin of long hair that had striped across her scalp, black and silvered hair fell in rough locks of uneven length on the stone floor around her.

Because it was Agnes—not Rook—who could not bear to look at her own face and see any trace of Solas reflected there.

[anjelicawrites]

I was playing with the idea of Simon and Ghost being to separate identities *and* domestic Simon, this happened. Tbh I have no idea of what this is, it could evolve in some sort of domestic team 141 thing.

You were supposed to start annual leave four night shifts ago, right in time for Simon's return from deployment, instead you're dead on your feet, have tried to use your badge to open the car door, have input the pass code for the ward to enter your building, and you're now staring owlishly at Simon, surgical mask still on his face, warm cup of tea ready for you.

Suggestive themes, 18 + only please!

"Why are you here? It's not visitor's time yet." "You're at home, dove."

You stare at him, look at yourself in your normal clothes, stare at him again, and then sigh.

"Bad night?"

You drop in his warm embrace, snuggling his chest for warmth and comfort.

"Make it four. I'm so tired I only want to sleep, but I need to shower first. Do you think I can do both at the same time?"

Under the mask Simon smiles.

"You can try, dove. Come on."

He turns you gently, his big hands light on your shoulders guide you towards the bathroom; you shuffle a little, your feet achy and sore. You're so tired you can't coordinate them and drink the tea Simon has, so lovingly, prepared you.

The bathroom is crammed. The whole apartment is as well, now that Simon basically lives here with you; you two are supposed to find a bigger place but, between his long deployments and you working in healthcare to atone for your sins, you two are still struck in this overpriced shoe box.

You sit on the water closet, sipping your tea, while Simon starts the shower and removes his hoodie.

"Are you joining me? Because I think I am too knackered for anything." "I'm not aiming for a repeat of last time."

Ah, yeah. when you two tried shower sex and Simon had knocked his head one too many times on the shower head and you two had flooded the bathroom: definitely not your best performance as a couple.

He takes the empty mug from your hands and places it on the small sink. His hands cup your face and you lower the surgical mask, so that he can kiss your closed eyes with his scarred lips; they're so chapped you know you'll have to wrestle him into a whole session of skincare to savage the damages of the weather he has encountered wherever he was.

Simon is huge, humongous frame and thick muscles, yet he still surprises you with how gentle and graceful he is as he undresses you and starts washing your hair with your shampoo; you know he holds a strength you will never match, and that he has such a complete control over it drives you insane with need, even now that you're ready to fall asleep while standing up.

"Short routine?" His voice rumbles against the tiles, you're so out he has to ask twice. "Yes please baby."

Of all the people you have dated in your life, Simon had been the first to truly listen, and absorb, your hair and skin routine. You had explained to him once, when he had stared at your latest haul of products with curiosity, so you had sat him down and went through everything; you had never expected him to truly follow your explanations, and to help you go through the full routine during one rainy Saturday afternoon. He still doesn't get why you want to use your products on him, he can manage with the basic stuff he gets at work, but lets you pamper him because it makes you happy, and that's his only goal when he's home, with you.

By the time he's rinsed the shower gel off your body, you can barely keep your eyes open, simply following what he's telling you to do to help him dry you and your hair. You're fully asleep when he helps you into one of his T shirts and carries you to bed, laying you on the sheets carefully, before joining you; he doesn't expect to sleep, he's had full four hours last night, yet your slow breathing mesmerizes him, until he follows you in a cat nap, ready to wake at any time.

When you wake up it's lunch time, Simon is laying next to you the surgical mask back again on his face: he's still hovering between himself and Ghost (and you hate that you were so tired you didn't see it as soon as you had arrived). You weren't there to help him shake his shadow off, for four days you two were ships sailing at night, you so tired you had barely managed to peck him before heading to work, him so hollowed out by the latest deployment, he had barely the energy to exist, let alone put Ghost to rest, for a while.

"Hi handsome." You purr, voice still laced with sleep.

For a moment you see the two of them coexist: Ghost's cold, calculating glance, and Simon's burning love for you, the latter winning (and thank God for that, you're too tired to deal with Ghost right now).

"Hello, dove."

Simon had woken up not that long ago, his mind still hazy and confused by his surroundings when he hadn't felt your weight against him; Ghost had raised his hackles immediately like a bad omen in the back of his mind, and refused to leave, even when Simon had noticed that you had rolled away in your sleep and had pushed an arm between your splayed legs to grab at your back and pull you against himself. Even then Ghost had kept watch for Simon, and for you, his uneasiness at the peaceful morning setting Simon's teeth on edge.

You could try to butt heads with Ghost, you have tried long enough to know he's too stubborn to leave until he thinks Simon doesn't need him.

"Breakfast?" You ask.

You tackle Simon as soon as he's vertical, your legs wounding around his hips, your arms tight around his chest; he's still too wound up to truly laugh at your antics, yet you feel his whole body relax a bit.

You eat your breakfast straddling him; your stomach can't fathom lunch when you're just up, that you leave the steak to him, while you enjoy your cuppa.

"I'm going to steal you away tomorrow." He tells you with a mischievous glint in his eyes. "Take you camping up in the Lake District or the Cotswold. Me, you and the bike." "In the wild?" "Aye." "Have I told you how much I love you?"

He doesn't answer, he prefers to abandon his head against your chest, letting your fingers scratch his nape and scalp, playing with his hair, now slightly longer and curlier than when he left.

Silently he stands up, anchoring your body to his as he heads for the sofa, where he lays you, before he drapes his heavy frame over yours, his head on your stomach so you can keep scratching him like you would a cat.

Blindly you fish for the remote and find one of those 'How it is made' shows that Simon likes so much and that helps him relax fully into himself, his other half in standby; when you wake up he's still watching and his muscles are liquid under your fingers.

"Pizza?" He drawls "I love you so much my heart is going to burst."

He's lost the surgical mask somewhere, now that Ghost is gone, and you can appreciate his smile, with his cute canines showing.

"After food." He deadpans. "Oh God yes! I would hate to die on an empty stomach!"

[justinspoliticalcorner]

Timothy Pratt at The Guardian:

After seeing Elon Musk’s X post on Saturday afternoon about an email that would soon land in the inboxes of 2.3 million federal employees asking them to list five things they did the week before, a clandestine network of employees and contractors at dozens of federal agencies began talking on an encrypted app about how to respond. Employees on a four-day, 10-hours-a-day schedule wouldn’t even see the email until Tuesday – past the deadline for responding – some noted. There was also a bit of snark: “bonus points to anyone who responds that they spent their government subsidy on hookers and blow,” one worker said. Within hours, the network had agreed on a recommended response: break up the oath federal employees take when hired into five bullet points and send them back in an email: “1. I supported and defended the constitution of the United States against all enemies, foreign and domestic.” “2. I bore true faith and allegiance to the same,” and so on. It was only the latest effort by a growing and increasingly busy group banding together to “expose harmful policies, defend public institutions and equip citizens with tools to push back against authoritarianism”, according to Lynn Stahl, a contractor with Veterans Affairs and a member of the network. Increasingly, the group is also trying to help its members and others face the thousands of layoffs that have been imposed across the federal government.

Calling itself #AltGov, the network has developed a visible, public-facing presence in recent weeks through Bluesky accounts, most of which bear the names or initials of federal agencies, aimed at getting information out to the public – and correcting disinformation – about the chaos being unleashed by the Trump administration. With 40 accounts to date, their collective megaphone is getting louder, as most of the accounts have tens of thousands of followers, with “Alt CDC (they/them)” being the largest, at nearly 95,000 followers. The network has also formed a group and a series of sub-groups on Wire, the encrypted messaging app, to share information and develop strategies – as played out on Saturday. The #AltGov hashtag has roots in the first Trump administration, perhaps most famously through the “ALT National Park Service” account on what was then Twitter, according to Amanda Sturgill, journalism professor at Elon University, whose book We Are #AltGov: Social Media Resistance from the Inside documents the earlier phenomenon. (That account, with its 774,000 followers, has since moved to Bluesky. Its online presence is parallel to and separate from the #AltGov network.) The original #AltGov Twitter accounts were dedicated to “sharing information about what was happening inside government – which usually doesn’t get covered as much, because it usually works”, Sturgill said. Examples included the first Trump administration’s deletion of data and separation of families through immigration policies, she said. The people behind those accounts also banded together to “provide services the government wasn’t providing” – like helping coordinate hurricane relief and distributing masks during the onset of the Covid-19 pandemic. Those efforts were often coordinated in Twitter group chats.

The Guardian has a report on the #AltGov network hosted on Bluesky and other social media outlets that are resisting the 2nd Trump Regime and DOGE.

[clickoly]

New year, old stories to be completed—and three pictures that perfectly sum up this new chapter of Starboys 🏎️ 

Characters belong to @lumosinlove

cw: I'm introducing Vaincre characters from here on, so please read only if you're comfortable with potential spoilers!

Happy New Year 💕

The golden boy, the youngest glory

"Ready, Fish?"

With the back of his hand, Finn wiped the cold bead of water tickling the corner of his mouth. The half-empty bottle slipped from his grip and landed upright on the floor, narrowly missing the plastic box where Finn kept his beat-up tennis balls. 

He blinked hard, trying to shake off the fatigue, and stretched out his back. He dabbed at his dripping forehead with the hem of his sweat-stained Puma tank top and rolled his tense neck with a satisfying pop. 

It was a rare occasion when Finn and Alex were in the same place long enough to spend more than a few hours together, let alone an entire morning just for the two of them. 

Back in New York, before Alex went off to college and Finn was selected to race in Formula 2 for the Scuderia Junior Academy, they had settled into a strict routine that Finn used to complain about all the time and now missed immensely. Weekdays began with a 5 a.m. alarm and a run under the early lights of an awakening city—a specific path around the neighborhood that set the tone for their frenetic lives of school, friends, and responsibilities. A path that always included long talks about anything and everything, and quick stops for coffee on the way home—hot when it was cold outside, to warm their frozen fingers; iced when summer mornings brought the sticky heat. 

After two weeks of work at the factory—rushing between testing the latest upgrades, hard training, and repeating race simulations for the three upcoming Grand Prix—it had been a joy to come back to his brother in a place Finn had slowly come to call home. 

That was until Alex had dragged him out of bed at six on a Saturday morning. They had run to the gym, following Finn's usual itinerary along the breezy promenade. Two hours of torturous exercise later—definitely not payback for the early wake-up call—Finn had asked Alex to help him with his reaction drills.

"Your turn," Finn now said, stealing the two lime-colored balls from his brother's hands. 

Alex was about to protest but Finn cut him off. He positioned himself in front of him, legs spread, a tennis ball in each fist, raised to shoulder height. His dark red eyebrows were arched teasingly. "Come on, you always liked it." 

"Fine," Alex grumbled, mirroring Finn's position and slightly bending his knees. His smile hid a hint of nostalgia. "But after this, you owe me breakfast."

"Bagels?" Finn offered.

"Duh," Alex scoffed and made a whole scene of getting into position for the drill, hands outstretched and ready, hovering over Finn's. "Okay, let's do this. How bad could—"

Finn dropped the first ball from his right hand. It fell fast past Alex's grasping hands and hit the floor with a loud bounce. 

"Hey—"

Finn let go of the other. Alex reached out tentatively, but Finn caught it easily with a deft move, quicker than a blink. 

"All right, Flash," Alex exhaled, rolling his annoyed eyes. "You've made your point. Can we go now?" 

"Nope," Finn laughed. "One more." 

He knew he was foolishly lingering, as impatient and excited as he was probably more than a little worried. But he could wait a little longer, just in case—at least until Alex finally caught the small ball and aimed it threateningly at Finn’s head. 

In moments like this, though, Finn was sure there was nothing to worry about.

They headed back to Finn's apartment, pretending to get in one last jog, but quietly settling for a brisk walk, discussing serious business under the faint October sun. 

What do you mean, Al? Of course the Rangers have the best goalie tandem in the league. 

It was half past ten by the time Alex sat on a stool at the kitchen counter, his hair a damp mess from the shower, and eyed Finn skeptically. "Are you making breakfast?"

Finn didn't look up from where he was carefully halving a sesame bagel. "If I told you where these came from, you wouldn't believe me." 

"Hmm, let me guess," Alex laughed. "Was it Mom's or Dad's idea?"

"Both?" Finn guessed. He went to the fridge for smoked salmon and cream cheese. "I said once that I was craving those bagels from that place down the street…" 

"Oh, no..."

"Uh-huh," Finn chuckled, turning back to the kitchen island. "I mean, it's not like I can cook anything else, but—it was a whole mom’s I’m-just-sending-you-a-few-things sized box, and now the refrigerator is completely stuffed."

Alex hummed quietly in response—too quietly. He leaned over the counter, letting his head collapse into his hand. He picked up a fork and stole an uneven slice of tomato from the cutting board, giving Finn a funny look all the while.

"What is it?" Finn asked cautiously. 

Alex shrugged and took a bite of the tomato. "Just waiting," he mumbled between chews. 

"For?" 

"Breakfast," Alex shot back when he caught Finn's suspicious look. "Oh, and for you to tell me why you're so jumpy today," he said around another bite. 

Finn couldn't hide how desperately he'd hoped Alex would understand. 

"Or, let's say..." At that, Finn was already laughing. "Whose second toothbrush might be in your bathroom, for example."

Busted. Finn smiled brightly. "She told you, didn't she?" 

"Not exactly." Alex's voice wavered between guarded and uncontainable. "She texted me, 'You owe me fifty bucks,' and when I asked her why, she said I should ask you." 

"You're both crazy," Finn snorted, then zeroed in on what Alex had just said. "Wait, you two bet on us? On your own siblings?"

"No—no. I mean," Alex rubbed a hand over the rising blush on his face. "It started as a joke and... you know Noelle. She was dying for me to know, but..." Finn saw Alex, always the journalist, choosing his words carefully. "Is it true though? Has it finally happened?" 

"Finally—" 

"Come on, Fish," Alex grunted.

Finn set the knife aside and sank onto a stool. He closed his eyes for a moment, letting out a carefree laugh, somehow in disbelief. 

"It's true," he said quietly, watching with a lump in his throat as a sparkle of excitement lit up Alex's eyes. "We finally admitted that we—uh…"

"Are insanely in love with each other? This is shocking news to me—Finn!” Alex cackled as Finn threw a handful of capers at him. He stood up and stretched out his arms. "Come here, you idiot."

Finn stumbled towards him. How was he supposed to tell him how grateful he was? Alex’s hug was comfort, security in uncertainty. To Finn, having his brother by his side, supporting him every step of the way—it meant everything, far more than he could ever begin to say. 

There were sudden, burning tears in his eyes—happy tears. And when Alex pulled back to ruffle his hair, Finn let them fall.

"Al..." his voice dropped to a whisper. "You think..." this is okay? Tell me it's okay. Am I allowed?

"You're okay, bud," Alex looked at him so proudly that Finn suddenly felt ten times lighter. "I'm so happy for you, you have no idea," Alex laughed giddily, voice cracking with emotion. "And I'm here for you, you know? We are, for both of you." He grabbed Finn's shoulders and squeezed them tightly. 

"I'm..." Finn paused hesitantly. His thoughts raced back to Alex and Kasey—the injury, their sudden reunion after a long, odd silence. He had wanted to ask for a while, but hadn't known how. "I'm here for you, too. Okay?" He wiped at his own wet cheeks. "Anytime." 

The frowny smile he got back, the quick nod... Maybe Alex wasn't quite ready. 

"Thanks," was all he managed to say. So Finn padded silently back to his cooking station with what he hoped was a reassuring smile. 

"Capers?" Finn asked then, busying himself again. He had his eyes on the food, but couldn't have missed the relieved look on his brother's face when he shot back a cheerful, "You know it.

The rest of the morning flew by. Around lunchtime, they found themselves sprawled out on the couch, scrolling through social media and the latest motorsports news. A classic. It was an old habit of Alex’s—diving into the gossipy side of sports journalism was actually part of his job. Years ago, they would spend hours like this in one of their bedrooms. Slow weekends, hot chocolate, just sniffing around this much-dreamed-of world that had felt far away at the time—fantasies of one day, maybe. 

Now their names made front pages, and Finn's face graced magazine covers more often than not—cars, watches, fashion advertisements. Alex's signature was quiet beneath his pieces, yet striking, powerful, respected. Sometimes Finn wished he could stay as silent and just be. No more trending hashtags, no more crazy made-up theories about his love life every time he was spotted walking less than two feet from a woman. No more crowds waiting for him outside restaurants—places he knew would be perfect nooks for unforgettable date nights. 

That one small, family-run restaurant in Cap D'Ail, a spot of white, light browns and strings of warm, soft lights floating in the air, gently swaying with the sea breeze that swirled around the terrace. Built on a cliff, intimate, framed by crystal clear water and the infinite hues of the night. The perfect setting for Logan's green eyes to shine and...

"Does Leo know?" Alex piped up. 

Leo. Leo's stunning blue eyes.

Finn's head snapped to Alex. "What?"

"About you and Tremz," he said, slowly pushing himself up against the cushion. He flipped the phone in his hands a few times before adding, "You're always together these days...the three of you," and glancing past Finn, through the picture window. 

The question fell out of the blue, so close to Finn's wandering thoughts that it startled him.

"He doesn't," Finn shook his head—an imperceptible nod, more to himself than anything. Something heavy sank deep into his core. Was it guilt? 

"We—me and Lo, we... haven't talked about it yet. We were just thinking about telling you," he admitted. "You, Noelle, Aubrey, Syd. Our parents..." 

Alex looked at him with curious eyes, a warm mirror reflection. 

"But?" He prompted. Maybe he'd heard the unspoken words Finn was struggling to put together. And when he didn't answer, Alex pushed their elbows together. 

"You can tell me, Fish," he blinked, offering him the safest of smiles. 

Finn's phone buzzed where it lay unlocked on his thigh, giving him an unfairly convenient excuse to catch his breath before what felt like an imminent free fall. 

He got a picture from Logan, a blurry shot of a bookshop window, the one Logan always took him to whenever they set foot in London together. But when a second picture popped up in the chat, Finn's heart did a complicated thing. At the sight of Logan's carefree smile, it fluttered in his chest. At Leo's matching grin, it began to race wildly. Where their cheeks were pressed together under layers of hats, hoods and dark sunglasses, Finn's heart settled peacefully. And then a bitter note of jealousy struck when he realized—did you two just go to Hatchards without me?? he typed frantically. 

Logan's reply was immediate: 

Got lots of books and stuff for you

Wait Leo says not to tell you

It's a surprise

<3

"Oh my God, look at you," Alex laughed loudly next to him—at him. "You're hopeless." 

"Shut up," Finn muttered under his breath, suddenly embarrassed. His nervous fingers went to scratching the heavy stubble on his white-hot cheeks. 

He looked at Alex again, willing himself to say something, anything. But his brother beat him to the word, once again.  

"My next trip is in a month," Alex said. He was worrying the inside of his lips, his eyes unfocused. He was nervous too, Finn realized. "I'll stay here in Monaco for a while. At least while you guys are overseas..." 

Finn stayed still and just listened. 

"I can't let Nat go back and forth for three weeks in a row, and Kasey has rehab and doctor's appointments every other day, so... yeah," he looked back at Finn and gave a sharp nod. "It's been three weeks, but... they've been really, really good." Alex smiled, genuinely and sincerely. "And I tried to get out of the way, you know? I didn't want to... overstay my welcome or, like, intrude or anything..." 

Again, the one thought that kept running through Finn's mind came up. "Have you ever... felt like that?" 

"Never," Alex shook his head. "Not even once, and... I understand if you're worried that Leo might say something—"

It was Finn's time to nod in disagreement. "I trust him," he said. "I know we both do." 

How could they not? 

"Then let him in. Let him choose. Maybe he doesn't want to lose you as much as you don't want to lose him." 

—

Finn's flight was scheduled for the next day at five and, quite surprisingly, his suitcases were already packed and waiting by the front door. He wasn't really looking forward to the long trip, especially now that Kasey, Logan and Leo couldn't be with him. At Silver's request, Logan had to stay in Silverstone and travel with his team, while Finn's new teammate, Kasey's temporary replacement, had flown to Austin early to meet his family.  

After Alex had left, Finn had taken some time to let the day sink in. He'd FaceTimed his parents while he cleaned up the mess he and Alex had left in the kitchen, and then got ready for an early night. But as the sky grew darker and only a faint golden light filled the living room, Finn found himself still on hold, unconsciously waiting for that one call that had kept distance less far, less lonely, for so long. Nights of rambling and rants about busy days, sharing thoughts, opinions and advice about everything that was going on in two so similar, so far apart lives. 

Logan's voice, his carefree laughs at Finn's silly jokes, even in those weeks that always felt like a race against time—those moments had always been a calming anchor. And somehow they had gotten even better lately, when blue eyes and dimpled smiles showed up more often than not on the same blurry screen, between cooking dinner for two, sharing books reviews, and seriously, Harzy, where do you even find the patience with this one? He's so annoying, just to hear Logan's offended gasps next to him.  

Finn waited, socked feet on the coffee table and book in hand, under the warm, yellowish light of the reading lamp by the couch. He sank into chapter after chapter of a fantastical word—a novel Leo had lent him—until the insistent growling of his stomach became too distracting to ignore, calling for a quick take-out.

He scrolled through EatIn for a good five minutes. The notification of a message flashed across the top of the dim phone screen—a text from Kuny in the drivers' group chat, on top of five new emails and a pending software update. No call, no reply to his last text to Logan, left on read a few hours earlier. 

Finally, Finn placed his usual sushi order and went back to reading, tossing the phone and his troublesome thoughts aside, just as the doorbell rang—once, twice, three times. 

"Coming," he called, wondering who the front desk had let through when he wasn't expecting visitors. But any concern was quickly silenced as he swung the door open. 

"Sushi delivery," said a beaming Leo, whose blond curls poked out of a black Silver Racing cap. He held up a handful of bags from Finn's favorite downtown Japanese restaurant. 

"That was quick," Finn blurted out without thinking, gaping at the bags. 

And then a soft snort brought his eyes up to two hilariously perplexed faces. "What?" 

What? "Oh," Finn realized he was still staring, dumbfounded. "Hi—I mean, hi," he laughed at his high-pitched, surprised squeak, and almost leapt at Leo, looping his arms around his neck in a tight hug. 

"Our dinner—" Leo tried to warn him between sweet chuckles, holding the bags out to Logan, who, Finn noticed, was delightfully looking at them with his head tilted to the side. 

"How... what are you doing here?" Finn asked, pulling away from Leo's warm embrace. 

"We brought you dinner, obviously," Leo said with a scoff, as if Finn had just asked something stupid. 

"And presents," Logan lifted an off-white tote bag that seemed quite heavy even in his strong hands. The green embroidered logo on the front read Hatchards Books. 

"As if you hadn't told him already," Leo drawled as he shot Logan a knowing look. 

A devilish, very bite-able grin painted Logan's full lips, a little chapped from the English bitter cold, begging to be kissed better. 

"You're so predictable, Lo," Finn snorted, reluctantly looking away and finally letting them in.

Logan blatantly ignored them, swatting Finn's ass with his bags on the way in. He waited for him as he locked the door and handed Finn the food with a sharp look and a soft whisper. 

"Dinner upstairs?" 

Ten short steps led from the living room balcony to what had once been a bare, spacious roof deck. The moment Finn had signed the papers to buy the attic, his father's keen eye and expert touch had redesigned it into a private sky lounge, a little gem overlooking the beating heart of Monte-Carlo and the features of a boundless coastline. 

Finn turned on the patio heater. Its warmth added to the cozy atmosphere, blending with the light beige color of the lounge chairs and sectional sofa, and the wood accents of a large coffee table where Logan had chaotically placed three sets of chopsticks, along with a bottle of white wine, glasses, and various boxes of delicious-looking treats—all Finn's favorites, it seemed. 

The outdoor lights were dim, allowing a few faint stars to twinkle high above their heads despite the city's harsh reflections. Finn caught Leo standing next to the glass railing with his nose tilted skyward and a star-struck smile lighting up his peaceful face. 

"I'd run for the dumplings," Finn said as he joined him, "if you want a chance with that one around." 

They both turned in time to catch Logan red-handed with half a gyoza dangling from his mouth. 

"Quoi?" he munch-mumbled. "I'm hungry!" 

Their laughter blossomed in unison, louder to Finn's ears than the rumble of the plane passing low overhead, and the hum of traffic below.

Logan's green eyes, dark in the faint light of the night, narrowed on them. 

"So very predictable, indeed," Leo said as Finn gently led him to the table. His hand wavered on the small of Leo's back, tentative—until Logan flashed him a mindful look that sent goosebumps up Finn's arms. 

"Whose team are you on, Knut?" Logan teased, making room for Leo on the sofa as Finn took one of the loungers. 

"I'm afraid I'm legally obligated to say yours." Leo stretched one arm out over the back cushion, putting on a thoughtful expression. "Something about a non-compete clause in my contract, I'm not sure. Besides," he turned to Finn, nose wrinkled around a fine sheen, "my mama would probably disown me if I said otherwise..."

"Ha!" Logan pointed a mocking finger at Finn.  

"...but my dad, on the other hand..."

"Excuse you, I'm right here—" 

"Oh, no, no, no," Leo tutted. "We're not going there, nuh-uh. I hear enough bickering from those two. Feel free to discuss the matter with my parents next weekend."

"Are they coming to the race?" Finn asked.

"Yeah," Leo's smile grew so wide it must have hurt. "Haven't seen them in a while... and the U.S. Grand Prix is sort of a family tradition. Only this time..."

"You won't be on the stands," Logan said softly.

"Pretty special, huh?" Finn felt the hook of Logan's telltale gaze as their eyes met—he’s sweet. 

"Three days Paddock pass-special," Leo nodded, and Logan whistled low under his breath, drawing a contagious laugh from both of them. 

"I really don't know how they're gonna react when they meet you." Leo's ocean blue eyes were lost in the night sky, then suddenly hesitant as he spoke again, "Only if you... um, want to... of course." 

Finn peeked back at Logan, who nodded briefly. There was still so much they could do for him. But for now, Finn was having fun. He crossed his arms and tipped his chin up in a very well practiced offended frown.

"I don't see why," he said in a low voice. "It's not like I'm everyone's favorite around here." 

"Are you kidding—" Leo started just as Logan whispered, "He likes all the attention," loud enough for Finn to hear. 

Leo kicked him in the shin with one of his long legs and snorted a laugh, "Wait till you meet Wyatt Knut. Oh, I know he's gonna lose it." 

With burning cheeks, Finn crossed his legs on the soft cushion and grabbed a pillow for his lap. "Well," he picked up a box from the table and his chopsticks. "Let's hope the rookie doesn't steal my scene then." 

"Oh, right," Logan said, casually stealing a salmon nigiri from Leo's plate. "Who's filling in for Kase?" 

"Oh?" Finn frowned in confusion. "I thought the news was out. The team decided to give our junior driver a chance."

It was almost imperceptible, but Finn was sure Leo lost a little color in his face around a hard swallow. He reached for his glass and took a small sip of the bubbling wine Logan had poured for them.

"Really?" Logan sounded surprised. "Isn't Archer running in F2?" 

"He's twenty-something points off the lead," Finn pointed out. "And his next race is Abu Dhabi. He might as well take a shot at this instead." 

"Sorry, guys," Leo got up from the couch. "I need to use the bathroom. Be right back," he murmured before hurrying to the stairs. 

Finn shifted just in time to see Leo disappear into the house. "Is he okay?" 

"You're such a worrier, mon cœur."

Finn's eyes followed the sound of Logan's soothing voice. "I know..." 

"I missed you," Logan whispered, and warmth spread through Finn's veins, chasing away the brisk cold on his skin. 

"I missed you too, baby. This is the best surprise ever." 

"Couldn't wait until Monday," Logan's jaw twitched around a gentle smile. "And... we both kind of needed a breath of fresh air." 

"Huh? What's going on?" 

Logan shook his head, lips pressed into a hard line. "Silver's dropping the bomb about the Blacks and the partnership deal. Tomorrow. Press is going to be all over it..." 

Finn leaned forward, elbows on his knees. One hand moved up to pinch his lips, to rub his jaw. He sucked in a lungful of air. "'What'd Sirius say?"

"He thinks we can divert any unwanted attention with the reveal of the special livery."

"And what about you two?" 

"Leo should be fine, I think... And I promised not to curse at reporters this time." Logan's faint smile turned mischievous. "And to make it to Sunday without getting fined by the FIA." 

Finn dug his thumb and forefinger into his eyes. "It's going to be one of those weekends, huh?" 

"Ugh," Logan groaned just as desperately. "I really don't want to think about it." He took his glass from the table and tipped it to Finn, eyes growing soft, finally seeming to relax, but still tinged with concern. "At least I got you, non?"

Finn followed suit, raising his own glass in a silent toast. "Always, baby." 

—

The Circuit of the Americas lived up to every driver's expectations. Finn was no stranger to the demanding, yet satisfying feeling of piecing together the perfect lap between steep uphills, tight hairpins and sequences of fast, flowing corners. Nor was he unfamiliar with the energy, the wild atmosphere that usually painted the entire weekend in shades of red, blue and white stars. From the grandstands and garages to the decorated run-offs of the track, everything mirrored the Lone Star flag waving proudly near the crest of the Turn 1 hill.  

That's how Finn found himself walking around the paddock on Thursday morning in a bright red t-shirt and blue jeans, struggling to adjust the cowboy hat perched on top of his misbehaving hair. It was a bit of a cliché, a tradition of the United States Grand Prix that everyone had embraced over the years—including a rather amused Remus Lupin, who was busy chatting with Lily Evans by the team hospitality entrance. 

"Look who finally made it to work," Remus sneered when he saw Finn coming.

"Blah blah blah. I missed you too, Loops," Finn said, sidestepping to hug Lily instead. "What's up, Lils?" 

"Looking good, O'Hara," she said, tipping the wide brim of her velvet camel hat. It matched Remus', sitting perfectly on his sandy blond hair.

"What are you two up to?" 

"Gossiping, mostly," Lily said, beaming with faux innocence. "Oh, and technically looking for my husband. I kind of lost him between breakfast and the five minutes I was in the shower." 

"Sirius left early too," Remus began, stumbling over his words as a faint blush crept to the tips of his ears. "I think—he… uh. He texted me pretty early, yeah." 

"Right," Finn said. He watched unconvinced as Lily failed, rather spectacularly, to hide a wicked grin. "Any sign of Logan? Leo?"

Logan had snuck out of Finn's room at dawn with a thousand kisses and the promise of more cuddles later that night, but no further explanation. 

"Haven't seen them around." Remus shrugged, "But the event starts in..." He checked his watch. "About fifteen minutes. Maybe they're already at the Paddock Club or—"

"Holy—shit," Lily's voice dropped to a breathless whisper, her green eyes wide.

Finn and Remus turned in sync to… quite the view.

"Did you... did you know about this?" Finn thought he heard Remus ask. To whom, he couldn't say.

Now Finn would have answered, if words hadn't deserted him. If the deeply unbuttoned shirt that fit Logan's shoulders under a fringed green vest hadn't been too distracting. Or the denim jacket and light blue bandana tied softly around Leo's neck, perfectly framing his sharp lines—a sliver of sunshine in a bright, cloudless sky. Leather boots, belts, and wide-brimmed brown hats completed the look of the four Silver boys as they casually strutted toward them. 

A wave of searing heat spread from Finn's chest to his hips, slowly burning him from the inside out. 

"Howdy," James greeted in first—washed denim jeans and a bad impression of a Southern accent. He swooped in to pull an awe-struck Lily into a hard kiss. 

Behind him, Sirius, Logan, and Leo were quiet, looking somewhat embarrassed, confident, and resigned at the same time. 

"Well, hello, cowboys," Lily laughed, her eyes flitting curiously between them. "Anyone care to explain?" 

Finn had to glance at Remus then, who was also uncharacteristically silent. Their eyes met briefly and they both pretended they didn't look like someone had just slapped them hard in the face. 

Sirius was the first to speak. Finn dared a closer look at Logan and then at Leo, eyebrows arching in interest at their twin smirks. 

"A special livery requires special attire, doesn't it?" Sirius began tentatively, as if trying to convince himself. He pointed his thumbs at his loose black shirt. 

"And, oh-so-casually," James spun around to show off his outfit, "we have a Hugo Boss collab to rock."

"And press to distract, apparently..." Leo added, crossing his arms and ankles in one elegant motion.

Very, very distracting indeed, thank you.

Logan pasted on his fakest smile. "Oh, and I'm retiring by the end of the season—ow!” he grunted a laugh as Leo flicked the back of his head. "Knutty."

It struck him then, unbidden and consuming. A lightning bolt from the bluest of skies. An electric spike swept over Finn's entire body, this time tightening his chest. It was undeniable how Logan and Leo glowed next to each other. Whether it was on track, with Leo's firm voice listing strict instructions in Logan's ears. At night, sitting at a kitchen table, miles away from Finn, telling him bits and pieces of their days. And here, in the middle of a semi-desert paddock, dressed in glamour for no sensible reason at all—those two shone like the brightest stars in the firmament before Finn's eyes. 

Suddenly, Finn longed to feel how Leo so beautifully coaxed that rare bliss out of Logan, carefree laughs and heart-melting smiles that Finn knew were private, exclusive. Breaths he'd kissed from his mouth, yearned for and cherished. And intriguing tastes that Finn now secretly craved. 

The most perfectly complicated knot of feelings.

"Fish?" Logan's touch was warm on his forearm. 

"Yeah?" 

"See you later?" 

Finn could only nod, blinded by forest green and cornflower blue and the pungent scent of two perfectly layered colognes. 

They all left, Lily in tow, snuggled between James' and Sirius' arms, abandoning Finn and Remus in a deafening silence that grew louder with every stray, passing voice.

"We should..." Remus cleared his throat. 

"Yep, yeah." 

"Okay. Harz," he muttered, his words muffled as he dragged a hand across his face. "You're off to... Sky Sports and Viaplay. Flash interviews. Then we're doing the track walk together." 

"Always so romantic, Loops," Finn casually threw an arm around Remus' shoulders. "Hey, you know who's up for the drivers' press conference?" 

"They want the new guy. You're boring old stuff, my friend."

"Damn," Finn sighed. "Not complaining, but... ouch." 

"It's the circle of life." Remus elbowed him playfully before looking up with a small, knowing smile—subtle. "We're screwed, huh?"

"Oh man," Finn huffed out a loud laugh. "Aren't we?" 

—

"Espresso." 

Natalie's voice broke the early morning quiet of the team's hospitality lounge. 

"Macchiato," she groaned, flopping into an armchair in the coffee area where Finn was busy topping his cappuccino with cinnamon. "And make it double, please, and thank you." 

Finn's free hand snapped to his forehead in an over-the-top salute. "Yes, ma'am." 

"Fucking jet lag."

Finn grabbed a cup and started the coffee machine. "Up all night again?"

"I think I slept... like eight hours in three days."

"Yikes," Finn winced. He let a cloud of foamed milk swirl into the dark, fragrant brew, then sprinkled some cocoa powder on top. "This calls for extra sugar." 

"Definitely," she mumbled.

Finn set the steaming cup on a saucer. He placed it on a small tray along with a teaspoon, a tiny basket of sugar packets, and a couple of warm, buttery mini croissants. 

"There you go." He laid the tray on the glass table in front of her and sank into the nearest armchair. 

"Wow, Freckle," Natalie marveled dozily, her words fading into a drawn-out yawn. "Five-star treatment."

"Seems much needed," Finn scrunched his nose as he reached for his own coffee. 

"You and me both." She pointed between their faces, clearly noting the purple circles under his eyes. "What's keeping you up?" 

"No clue," Finn lied, and Natalie shot him a look. 

"You really think," she paused to take a small sip of coffee, unfazed. "You can hide something from me, of all people?" 

Finn couldn't help the small, wry smile that twitched his lips. "You'd be surprised," he murmured around the rim of his cup.

"What was that?" 

"Nothing," he blurted, unable to escape her inquisitive gaze. "I guess I'm just worried, that's all."

"Hm. And does that have anything to do with a certain hot-tempered brunet? Say, someone throwing threatening death glares at anyone with a microphone within a mile radius?"  

"That's overprotective Logan Tremblay to you."

Finn omitted the details, of course. The past couple of nights spent with Logan curled up in his arms—a bundle of nerves. Jaw clenched, teeth gritted, falling asleep as morning light spilled through the window, voiceless and exhausted, with Finn's fingers still tangled in his hair, a familiar touch to hold on to. 

"Is this about the—" Natalie air quoted, "—Black Gate? The cowboy thing didn't work out?" 

Finn nodded briefly, utterly drained. 

"Damage control for Sirius' sake." He shook his clouded head. "But of course everyone is hungry for more. It's a pretty big deal, the Blacks leaving Silver. Who would believe the sudden 'mutual decision' to end a ten-year partnership?" 

"As if it was anyone else's business." 

"And all forgotten by Monday, as usual. But in the meantime we're stuck with a couple of mad drivers in full guard mode." 

Finn's fingers tapped nervously on the cooling ceramic of the cup, restless. "And then... there's Leo."

Out of his sunny, always catching energy. 

"Leo?" 

"He seems a little... stressed. I don't know."

Tired, maybe. Shadowed by a veil of worry that Finn couldn't chalk up to pressing media attention alone. 

"I just wish there was something I could do to help."

Natalie studied him for a long moment, her brown eyes sweeping across his face. Finn saw the ghost of a wistful smile when she clicked her tongue. "There's something special about you O'Haras, huh?" 

It startled a small laugh out of Finn, warm and incredulous. "I'm not sure where that comes from, but I'll take it as a compliment." 

The front door cracked open. It caught their attention, revealing a bright, fresh face in the doorway. 

"Buongiorno!" Jack Archer chanted in thickly accented Italian. He walked in, proudly wearing his brand new team uniform, complete with a red baseball cap flipped backward over his dark hair.

"Look at you go," Finn held out his arm for a quick fist bump. "Already embracing the team culture."

Natalie simply waved a hand. "Morning, baby rookie."

Archer smiled back at her as he leaned against the counter. "How's Kasey?"

"Oh, he's annoying me, so... way much better." 

"Bet he wanted to come," he quipped. 

"Ha. He tried to talk me into coming once or twice, but..." She took a steadying breath, then looked at Finn with such gentle, guarded fierceness that left him speechless. "I know for sure I left him in very, very good hands."

Jack nodded sympathetically, looking between them. "Glad to hear that."

"How about you?" Finn jumped in. "Ready for today?" 

It was Archer's first ever Formula One qualifying. Finn remembered how emotional that felt—the fervent, uncontainable energy, the anticipation, and the urgency to prove yourself worthy of the privilege of sitting in such a prestigious spot. He could see the same thrill glinting in Jack's blue eyes.

"So ready," he laughed, bouncing a little on his feet. "But hey, I wouldn't mind some good advice."

"Anytime. Actually, we can..." Finn began, pulling the phone out of his pocket. "Okay, I have to be somewhere in... shit, well, ten minutes ago, but," he stood up and patted Archer on the shoulder, already poised to sprint out. "Catch you before FP3?"

"Yeah, totally," Jack's eyes lit up. "Thanks, man."

"O'Hara," Natalie called. Finn had barely taken a step toward the door. "Are you sure you're not forgetting anything?"

"Jesus," Finn did a double take and grabbed the envelope she held out between her manicured fingers. "What would I do without you?"

Natalie rolled her eyes, the outline of a wry smile curling her full lips. "Get out of here."

The paddock was alive, too loud and too hot for mid-fall Saturday morning. Finn had to stop a few times for autographs, pictures and good luck wishes before he finally made it to the Silver Hospitality forecourt. 

Leo spotted him in the distance and waved cheerfully. He looked better than he had all week, his eyes less somber, though still too weary for Finn's liking. But it was a welcome sight that somehow helped Finn calm his nerves. 

Leo was holding a blonde woman close to him, chatting excitedly with a slightly embarrassed Logan. A tall, also blond man stood at their side. The fine features the three of them shared were unmistakable. 

As it turned out, Eloise and Wyatt Knut were exactly as Leo had described them, a force of nature brimming with energy, high spirits and unbelievable kindness—traits Finn had long recognized in their son. 

Leo had his mother's eyes and her same sharp wit. Finn had soon found himself wrapped in a motherly hug, warm and loving, as Eloise thanked him over and over for no particular reason. Though she didn't miss the chance to slip in a cheeky remark about him racing for the wrong team—you should really consider moving to Silver, honey. The three of you would make the best team out there—coloring Leo's light skin several shades of red. 

Wyatt Knut was just as energetic, though a little more reserved. Finn could tell by the way he'd squeezed his hand in his own that he was holding back his excitement, while his well-worn Scuderia cap spoke volumes. 

Finn and Logan had planned to surprise them upon their arrival on Friday, but by the time they had finished debriefing after the free practice, Leo had essentially kidnapped his parents and disappeared. He was glad, though, if Leo's better mood had anything to do with it. 

Now, between conversations, Finn noticed Logan eyeing the envelope in his hands and nodding his head in encouragement. 

"Boys," Eloise said with an angelic smile, "we shouldn't keep you any longer, I'm sure you're quite busy." 

"Actually, Mrs. Knut—"

"Finn, please. It's Eloise for you." 

"Right," Finn chuckled, rubbing a hand over his neck as he sought Logan's eyes for support. "Well, these are for you," he opened the envelope Natalie had secured for him and pulled out two golden VIP passes. 

"Guys..." Leo breathed, his startled gaze bouncing between them. 

"Consider yourselves our guests of honor," Logan said. "For a full race weekend experience. You can do the grid walk on Sunday if you'd like. And watch all the sessions from our garages."

"Both," Finn added playfully, turning to Wyatt. "Whichever you prefer." 

Wyatt clasped Finn's shoulder, then Logan’s—a silent, heartfelt smile tugging at his thin lips. Eloise's grateful embrace carried the same fondness Finn saw in Leo's glazed stare. He shot him a wink just as Logan bumped into his side. 

"You shouldn't have to..." Leo whispered softly.

Finn felt the sudden urge to tell him that he'd do anything to see him this happy, always. He knew from the look on Logan's face, scenically playing the annoyed roll of eyes, that he was tightly holding onto similar thoughts. 

But this was neither the time nor the place. Finn had already spotted a few TV crews creeping around and the last free practice session was about to start. 

Besides, he had no idea what the hell was going on with him. What was he meant to make of any of these thrumming needs?

He accepted the tenth round of thanks, an invitation to dinner at the best steakhouse in town according to Leo, another warm hug from Eloise, and a fierce good luck, son from an ecstatic Wyatt Knut—the silky lanyard of his pass already hanging around his neck.

Before he left, Logan put on one of those wicked smiles that Finn wished he could always bite off his lips. 

"See you on track, O'Hara," he jabbed, making everyone laugh. 

"Yeah," Finn smiled. It was a relief to see that some of the worry had slipped from Logan's scratchy, sleep-deprived voice. 

Finn loved him. God, he loved Logan immensely. But right then he knew he had to focus on himself and his performance, to keep an overload of problems at bay. 

After all, he'd made himself a promise. He had a championship to win, against none other than the man of his dreams—and his race engineer at his side. Two people who somehow managed to make Finn feel so overwhelmingly good. 

And helplessly confused.  

"Good luck, Tremblay." 

The car felt incredible, sharp and consistently balanced even on the hot track. The first two qualifying rounds had flowed as smoothly as water and Finn was confident he could secure a solid pole position, setting himself up for a much needed win tomorrow. 

Now the lights in Finn's box were vivid, as urgent as his need to get back on track and run the car in those milder sunset shades for the last stint of the day. He sat in the cockpit and waited while the mechanics made their final adjustments. 

As he peeled the smudged tear-off from his visor, Remus' voice crackled through the radio. 

"Harz, we're putting on a new set of soft." 

Finn pressed the yellow radio button on the steering wheel. "Sounds good." 

"And—I need you to improve the middle sector." 

"What's the last lap time?" 

"1:37.017," Remus spelled out. "Logan's is tied with James' at .214." 

Good, but not enough, Finn thought. Logan had this innate, annoyingly brilliant ability to set the perfect lap with the clock about to run out. One last flying lap to get those couple of tenths out of nowhere, just when everyone else thought he didn't have the right pace. 

"Archer’s going out first," Remus added. "He's instructed to give you slipstream if you think you'll need it." 

Finn and Kasey had used the tactic countless times, helping each other secure at least one spot on the front rows of the grid.  Jack wasn't new to these tricks, of course, and after a long talk that morning, Finn trusted him to deliver as well. 

Archer hadn't needed advice, exactly—more like reassurance and a nudge to tackle the new challenge with confidence. 

As presumptuous as it might have seemed, though, Finn didn't want Jack's help. He knew he held all the cards to perform at his peak. And maybe—just like the young rookie he'd been a long time ago—Finn desperately needed to prove something to himself once more.   

"Thanks, guys," he simply replied.  

"Let's bring it home, man." 

Amazing speed through the twentieth and final corner for Thomas Walker, but no further improvement. Nadeau, however, crosses the finish line with a fastest third sector and goes sixth to beat his teammate. 

Logan Tremblay takes provisional pole as O'Hara starts his flying lap with the session nearing its end. Here comes Potter across the line to move up to second—and we have a Silver front row for now.  Halla does improve, but remains fourth behind Archer—an amazing Saturday for the rookie, who'll have the chance to start his first Formula One race from second row tomorrow. 

Fastest sector one for Finn O'Hara as he makes his way through some traffic out there. Once again Tremblay vs. O'Hara for pole is our battle. 

Absolutely phenomenal in this car, finding more time down the high speed straight—and it's another purple sector for the American driver. 

More traffic coming in between turns 13 to 15 as most cars in-lap on their way to pit lane, but—whooa, my goodness. That's a close call for O'Hara with his teammate going into Turn 16! 

It was an instinctive reflex. 

Finn hadn't fully registered what had just happened in front of him. He braked, hard enough to tip his car to the left, over the curb and into the run-off, narrowly avoiding contact. His flying lap was completely ruined.

"Remus," he gasped over the radio.

He'd sounded too calm to his own ears, even as blood began to boil in his veins, mixing with a wild rush of adrenaline. Someone had just cost him the pole. Someone had deliberately moved into the middle of his lap and almost caused a massive crash. Not just someone, Finn realized with a flash of clarity, but his own teammate.

Remus' voice was apprehensive. "Yeah, we saw that, Harz..."

"That was fucking—"

"I know, I know," Remus promptly cut him off. He knew better than to let Finn cause a scene that anyone could hear. "Just come back to the box, please. We'll discuss this later."

Not a single word came out of Finn’s mouth as he drove to the Parc Fermé. He jumped out of the car, steering wheel in hand, and quietly followed the other drivers to the pit lane. A cameraman tracked him all the way to his box, probably expecting him to react, or maybe snap like some drivers used to—like Logan sometimes did. Finn just kept his helmet on and the dark visor down. 

He had expected to find Remus there, ready to apologize for a mistake that wasn’t even his fault. Finn knew he would try to explain with his steady, calming manner that there was nothing they could do. Whatever happened between teammates never got penalized by the stewards. It stayed between team walls. 

Instead, standing outside his garage, shoulders hunched and a restless hand tormenting his soft-looking curls, was Leo. 

"Harzy," he almost jumped on his feet when he saw Finn. "Are you okay?" 

"Le?" Despite everything, Finn found himself smiling. He raised the visor to meet Leo's anxious eyes. "What are you doing here?" 

"I..." Leo let out a long sigh of relief. "I'm so sorry, Finn. Are you hurt?" 

"What? No," Finn undid the helmet and slid it off his head, along with the balaclava. "Leo, I'm fine. It was just impeding." 

"I know, I..." he began, and glanced towards the mixed area where Archer was being interviewed. 

So he'd made it to the top three…

When Leo turned his back to Jack, he looked even more freaked out than before. "You... It looked bad—on screen. The bounce on the curb..."

"I'm fine," Finn repeated, reaching out to grab his arm reassuringly. "Are you, though?" 

"Yeah. Yeah, sorry. I just..." Leo swallowed hard. "I wanted to make sure he didn’t—"

"He fucking impeded you?!" Logan's thunderous voice made them both spin around. 

"Lo," Finn shot him a warning look. "Not here." 

"What the fuck?" 

"I know." Finn took a deep breath. "I need to talk to Remus first, but... He's young, guys. Honestly I’ve seen senior drivers doing worse than that."

Logan crossed his arms, an angry frown tightening his lips. "Still."

"Listen," Finn ran a hand over his sweaty hair, his pulse suddenly jumping. The onslaught of feelings he'd experienced in the last forty-eight hours was surreal. He felt defeated, frustration still seething at the edges of his fist, clenched around the chin bar of his helmet. Exhausted for too many reasons at once. 

And yet there stood a glimpse of hope—fierce eyes staring at him… protectively, he realized. 

"You two shouldn't worry about me, okay? I promise, I'm fine. I just need to put an end to this crazy day and get out of my head for a minute." 

Leo nodded understandingly. "We can call off dinner if you'd rather—" 

"Please don't," Finn said. It came out almost like a plea. "Dinner with the Knuts is exactly what I need right now." 

"Ouais," Logan agreed, watchful eyes fixed on Finn's. He was trying to read between the lines, something he'd learned a long time ago—always finding his way to Finn. "Me too." 

A full, bright smile split Leo's lips. "Okay, one more thing. Then I better go before Sirius kills me," he said. He sounded a little giddy. "My parents want to invite you to stay with us next week, just so you know. They were over the moon about the tickets." 

"Really, it was nothing," Logan said, and Finn’s heart melted in his chest. 

"You don't have to say yes," Leo urged. He took a step back towards the pit stall, grinning innocently, "And you definitely didn't hear this from me. But we'd love to have you guys over."

With a soul-crushing wink, Leo walked away. Logan's sharp breath filled the next beat of silence. 

"Rouge."

"Hm?" Finn whispered back. He noticed out of the corner of his eye that Logan was staring after Leo, too.

They turned to each other, keeping a short distance between them—just two drivers confronting each other after a tough qualifying session.

"Are you sure you're okay?" Logan asked.

"I love it when you call me Rouge."

"Finn."

"I told you, I'm fine."

"That wasn't fair."

"It wasn't," Finn admitted. 

"Beginner's luck," Logan grumbled. 

Finn's mouth shifted to the side, one corner lifting slightly. A bead of sweat slid from a rebellious lock of Logan’s dark hair onto his temple. Finn watched, mesmerized, as it traced its way around the crinkle of Logan’s eye, down to the corner of his full mouth, along his jaw, and finally dropped from his flushed face.

"Come on, Tremz. I'll overtake the rookie and chase you down as fast as I can. You have my word."

"Ah," Logan lost some of his fight at that. "Bet you won’t catch me, though."

"Oh-ho," Finn bit his lips. Something about that Logan smile drove him crazy. "Try me. I can give you a head start tonight," he murmured.

"Non," Logan laughed. "We have a race tomorrow, in case you forgot."

"Right," Finn inched closer. Logan didn’t so much as blink.

"A race I'm going to win. And then..."

It wasn’t much of a choice for Finn when it came to it. Had he imagined spending every second of their free time glued to Logan's side? Absolutely. Had Finn already pictured a beaming Leo showing them around his childhood home? Walking them through streets, corners, places he'd grown up in? Maybe.

Besides, they had already been thinking about a nice, short escape before flying to Mexico City—just the three of them. 

"A quick detour to New Orleans?" To Finn, it sounded like the perfect golden mean.

Green eyes glinted at him, almost in awe. The last rays of sun framed Logan's tan skin like gold.

"Parfait, mon amour."

[brandyanna]

girljournalling chapter 3: fitness journey + tips 𓆩♡𓆪

some of you may know that i am in ed recovery... wanted to have this as a disclaimer because if i had never suffered from an ed then i would not have started my fitness journey, and if i didn't start my fitness journey then i would not be here - having improved my mental wellbeing!!

things to remember:

❦ food is fuel, not something you have to earn!

❦ eating to run, not running to eat

❦ everyone starts from the beginning, your only competition is yourself

generally, i always recommend going to the gym and running! i run 3 times a week, and also do 2 track sessions a week at school. you can also go to the gym for cardio and weightlifting, which is great for athleticism and your metabolism. as a runner, you should be strength training to decrease your risk of injury

❦ when i first went to the gym, i was so scared of embarassing myself - get on the treadmill and observe what other people are doing, you'll soon feel less overwhelmed

❦ you should take at least two rest days in a week! any less and you risk overtraining (it's not pretty, take it from me) of course, you can keep active by walking on these days if you want

❦ at the gym, you should aim to train lower body (glutes, hamstrings, legs), upper body (core, arms, shoulders/back), and cardio

❦ there are so many ways to structure your week! for example:

-> monday: aerobic cardio, tuesday: lower body, wednesday: upper body + core, thursday: active rest + recovery, friday: lower body + glutes, saturday: upper body/arms, sunday: rest + recovery

❦ make sure you warm up with dynamic stretches and cool down with gentle stretches like pilates/yoga or walking slowly!

❦ please hydrate and stretch properly guys :( so many injuries can be easily prevented by just doing this

❦ nutrition is a key part of fitness; but do not get wrapped up into the latest 'trending diet' or restrict your food intake. instead, eat a balanced diet and remember, count the colours on your plate, not the calories!

for running, if you're training for a specific distance, you want to be running 3-4 times a week, structured with easy runs, intervals/tempo runs, and long runs

❦ there are so many apps/websites that provide comprehensive training plans, my favourite is runna because you can work towards any distance/level of fitness that you like!

❦ with your easy runs, make sure you go easy, because it allows you to go faster and longer in your tempo + long runs

❦ my favourite time to run is early in the morning, i have a 5:00am alarm before school. in my opinion, it just makes me feel productive and awake throughout the day!

staying fit is hard, but so is living carelessly. being healthy is hard, but so is neglecting your health. choose your hard.

[iamprchung]

The Wan Ton Weekend

Yep, this fever-dream nonlinear narrative is back!

A long forgotten one-off that an awesome reader sought out and inspired the repost. Thanks @gloriousqueenfest!

Everyone enjoy the chaos that is Skinner/Scully!

Available on AO3

Synopsis: Scully’s weekend takes a wild turn when Mulder calls from Vegas with shocking news. What starts as a desperate attempt to stop his latest questionable life choice quickly spirals into a snowed-in misadventure featuring takeout, tension, and one very patient Assistant Director. A comedy of errors ensues—complete with misunderstandings, chaos, and maybe just a little bit of fate.

Notes: This is absolutely a Fever-Dream PWP (Plot? What Plot?) repost from the annals of X-Files SSR fiction.

I think this is the fluffiest excuse for smut there ever was. And this is written in a nonlinear narrative style that some readers may find confusing—but give it a chance.

And before I forget, because I do that frequently with these types of things, this symbol (that I hope shows up for most in this post) “福” is the Chinese symbol for “Good Luck.”

And I’m sorry – I have removed the use of the word “undulating” because—wow, could that get anymore cliché?

Music referenced and of note: Appropriately the Barenaked Ladies, ‘It’s All Been Done.’ Also ‘Pinch me’ by the same band seems appropriate as well but isn’t represented in the story.

Special Thanks: Paula and Tina (You know who you are)—your influence and beta recs are still all over this story, and I wouldn’t have it any other way. And a huge thanks to a long-time fan who sought this out and inspired me (lit a fire under my procrastinating butt) to clean it up and repost it.

Oh and that terrible cover art here is nothing compared to the original cover art... LOL.

The Wan Ton Weekend by PR Chung

January 15th Saturday Morning

"Hel..." her voice degenerated into a grotesque guttural gurgle upon answering the phone. She cleared her throat and tried again, "Hello?"

"Scully? Scully!" It sounded like Mulder, but the voice was partially drowned out by his own shouting.

"Mulder?"

"Scully, I had to call you, I had to tell you wonderful-fantastic news!"

"Okay..." she tried prying her eyes open, but it made her head hurt. She tried just opening one eye and it wasn't so bad. "What's the news..." she asked reading the time with her one good eye: two-thirty-six AM. "It's almost three in the morning..."

"Not here!" His voice peaked.

She sighed. "Mmm… kay, where are you?"

"I'm in Vegas…”

"Really?" She muttered slipping back into the fuzzy warm place she'd been swimming around in only a moment ago. "Did you get some kind of good holiday rate..." “I'm getting married!” he laughed excitedly. Scully frowned. “What?”

"Scully, listen, just listen," he was excitedly saying, "she's beautiful, she knows me- She's a Goddess!"

"Hmmm..." she murmured, "all right, I'll talk to you about it tomorrow... bye."

She clumsily pressed the off button and aimed blindly at the receiver cradle, missing. She was already drifting back to sleep before the cordless handset skittered to a stop on the hardwood floor.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ 福 ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Watch out for the seat belt-

"Whoa-"

Something large and very solid stopped her impending decent on the pavement. Half in- half out of the back seat of the car, Scully looked up into twinkling green eyes. Joel loomed over her, like a Gap ad come to life, supporting her weight effortlessly and grinning. He was obviously amused by her predicament.

"Careful there, Dana," was all he said and lifted her fully out of the car, placing her on the ground. He held onto her a moment longer, steadying her. Was she wobbling? Well, if she wasn't, her apartment building certainly was, she thought looking past him.

"Hey, walk her to the door," Michelle called over the sound of the car radio and soft bing-bing of the open car door chime.

Scully threw a half-baked glare back at her friend, embarrassed yet thankful for the extra help in getting this guy to the door. Maybe, finally, he'd kiss her. She'd thrown all her subtle and not so subtle charms at him, willing his attention- his full attention... But she was afraid she'd had a wee bit too much at the wine bar, and just maybe, perhaps, that wasn't so attractive.

"Mademoiselle?" He offered his arm to her, and she latched onto it happily. He shut the car door and lead Scully up the walk to the front steps of the apartments. She mounted the steps almost gleefully, but he didn't follow. Still clutching his rock-solid bicep, she nearly toppled backward when he stopped at the foot of the steps.

She turned and he was peeling her hand off his arm, almost finger by finger, appearing panicked by her resistance.

"Um," he grunted as he freed himself from her, "it's… been… a fun evening," he continued, backing away slowly.

"It really was," she agreed earnestly, starting back down the steps toward him, "maybe we could do it again sometime—"

He threw his hands up, she stopped. Then, self-consciously, he smiled and lowered them, saying, "Good night, Dana."

Nodding, she smiled thinly and hugged herself against the cold that was suddenly penetrating her coat and the warmth of the alcohol. "Okay, night."

She watched as he got back in the car, returning Michelle's wave as they drove away.

The taillight's red glow disappeared from sight, but Scully stood on the brick steps listening to the fading sound of her friend's car engine, her breath clouding the cold, still air. She remained there a long while, rummaging through the freeze-framed images of the night, wondering when exactly it was that she had gone past adorably tipsy and fell headlong into annoyingly drunk.

A cat crossed her line of vision, at first there were two, but once she squeezed her eyes open and shut a couple of times it was only one little tabby. She absently watched it snake around parked car tires, rubbing and sniffing things, doing cat things, until she found it no longer interesting and went inside to go to bed.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ 福 ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

He stood there in the half open doorway blinking back at her, confounded. "Married--" Skinner started, then went on with, "what?"

"Mulder's in Las Vegas and he's getting married." She declared perhaps a little too loudly.

Skinner frowned at her and seemed to sniff the air between them. "Scully, have you been drinking?"

Her mouth dropped open, aghast at his inference- then realized she had been drinking.

"No-Y-yes- Some."

"Scully," he sighed and leaned against the door to his apartment with unaffected casualness.

"Sir, we have to stop him... I don't think he knows what he's doing."

Skinner chewed at his lip.

"He's getting married." She stressed again.

"I'll congratulate him the next time I see him." Again, her mouth went slack. Skinner straightened, agitated. "All right, what do you want me to do about it?"

"I-I don't know... Help me."

"Why don't you get his friends," he gestured past her toward the hall, "those gunmen guys..."

"They don't answer." Her shoulders sagged.

"I didn't answer," he declared, emphasizing by placing a hand over his chest, "that didn't stop you from coming over here... Did you drive here?"

"I took a cab- But your phone was busy, and… I knew—I hoped you were here at least..." her voice was beginning to take on a sort of whimpering quality.

He cocked his head, started to say something, then changed his mind, saying instead, "I was on-line."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ 福 ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Oh my God!"

Her head felt like it was going to explode when she came straight up from the mattress into a sitting position. Her head was pounding, her mind racing. The vague recollection of Mulder's words doing a clog dance on the foggy fringe of what sobriety she had managed to hang onto.

The bedroom was black but for the eerie red glow of the digital clock, this only added panic to her already skewed perception of time and place. She jerked around looking at the clock: two-forty-eight. What time had it been? She racked her brain frantically trying to remember what time he had called, she knew she had looked at the clock. Had only a few minutes passed? Yes, yes, just a few minutes- She went leaping from the bed, her feet tangling in the bedding...

Shards of smart pain zipped through her knees as she picked herself up off the floor, cursing the bedding, cursing the floor. Not quite done cursing she snapped on the light and headed for the closet. She caught a leg in her jeans, she cursed some more and tore a nail on the zipper—

"Shit."

She had a sweatshirt over her head before she stopped to wonder what exactly she was doing.

It wasn't like she could just jump in the car and drive over to Las Vegas, now, could she?

"Damn," she hissed yanking the sweatshirt back off, taking her pajama top with it.

Bare from the waist up she collected the cordless phone from the floor and dialed Mulder's cell phone number. All she got was the recording again and again, the monotone and android-like voice telling her the customer she was trying to reach was—  Oh, hell, how many times had she been down this road?

She hit the speed dial programmed for the lair of the Lone Gunmen. The line rang twice before she realized she was half naked- She hung up abruptly. She couldn't talk to Frohike in this state, never mind that he couldn't see her- She just couldn't do it!

Jammies back on, she dialed again.

"Hello?"

Scully's heart stopped at the groggy sound of her mother's voice. She had hit the wrong speed dial number! Her mouth was moving rapidly but nothing was coming out. What to do! What to say-?

"Hello?" Now her mother was beginning to sound concerned. Oh, no, not scared even...

"Sorry," Scully dropped her voice so deep she nearly coughed, but managed to finish her baritone disguised apology, "wrong number."

The phone clutched in her hand, her heart racing, she squeezed her eyes shut against the queasiness in her stomach- the dizziness in her head. She took a quick breath, collecting her wits and dialed more carefully.

There was no answer.

How the hell could there be no answer? Weren't these three utterly nocturnal in nature? Weren't the three of them constantly on third watch- Okay, well, maybe not so much Byers, she rectified the presumption. He really seemed the most normal, the most reality-based of the three, with his neat and clean, socially appeasing appearance.

She plopped down on the bed blowing her breath out. Now who? Now what?

Her head felt like it was caught in an isolated whirlwind- localized just in her bedroom, just in the exact space her cranium occupied...

"Oh, why'd I drink so much...?" she whispered to the walls, holding her head.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ 福 ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

He was just lying there, stretched out over the length of the sofa, asleep. His jaw slack with relaxation in contrast to the tension of his hand that was clutching the TV remote to his chest. His posture, his entire appearance suggested an evening of excess, although she could tell this wasn't the case. More of a night spent quietly surfing the web and twisting the heads off a few friends...

She glanced toward the desk and eyed the beer bottles glistening in the light of the television.

About six to eight friends...

Turning back, she let her eyes linger over him, hovering in absent thought over the place where his shirt had hiked up over his stomach... A flat... fuzzy... stomach. Was it as firm as it appeared? Or was that just gravity doing its thing? She had suspected at times, while in his office, that he was sucking it in every time he got up from behind his desk. He just had that look about him, like he was holding his breath... Could that have been for her benefit? Nahhhh...

Her eyes traveled over the length of his forearm, mesmerized by the thick fine blanket of dark hair, a physical feature sadly hidden by dress shirts. Her gaze followed the toned curve of his muscles. She cocked a brow, a mischievous notion striking her. A notion constructed from unfinished business earlier in her evening... Freeze framed flashes of her fingers being peeled off that guy’s arm... What the hell was his name again?

Skinner stirred.

Scully caught her breath, beginning a nervous little dance in place, knowing she should go but somehow not being able to pry her eyes off his body.

Too late—

Skinner opened his eyes, and her heart crammed itself into her throat.

Looking a bit dazed he glanced around until his focus fell on the television... without ever noticing the shape hanging motionless at his feet. Rediscovering the remote in his hand he reached out with it, shutting off the TV.

The room went dark. Scully took relief in knowing she was completely hidden now; all she would have to do is slowly start back stepping before he ran over her in the dark.

Step, step-

She saw him coming off the sofa, his figure blotting out what scant city lights there were beyond the balcony window blinds. As though magnetically drawn, he headed straight toward her— of course he had the advantage of knowing his way around his home in the dark, knowing the placement of his furniture- but Scully, on the other hand, did not.

Trying to get out of his way before the inevitable collision she back stepped quickly and immediately into the end table.

Aside from being aware of the rattle and crash of everything on the table, and the table itself tumbling over, Scully realized she was going down with it...

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ 福 ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Scully, just go home," he told her without much ceremony. "He'll be fine. It's not like he's in any immediate danger other than one wicked headache in the morning..."

Her feelings of immediacy were beginning to wear off, or perhaps it was just the alcohol that was wearing off. She knew he was right; Mulder wasn't in any danger. Why had she been so panicked anyway?

"Can I use your phone?"

"Wha- Why?" More irritation seeped from him.

"Well, I told the cab not to wait."

"Don't you have your cell phone?" He didn't mean for it to sound the way it did. It was more concern for her safety, her ability to call for help if need be, rather than a reluctance to let her in to use his phone. But what he meant and what she had heard were obviously two very different things judging by her expression. "Fine... Yes, you can use..."

"No," she shook her head. "No, thank you. I wouldn't want to disturb you any further."

She plucked her cell phone out and held it up for him to see, then walked off unsteadily down the hall.

Without a second glance he shut the door.

Damn it.

His hand was still resting on the door handle, the guilt already starting to prick at his guts. Wrenching himself away he walked across the living room slowly, drawing a hand back over his head. He could have at least offered her a ride home... He glanced over to the desk, eyeing the empty beer bottles sitting next to the computer in a sad neat row. Perhaps he wasn't running around jumping to conclusions in the middle of the night, but he didn't believe he was in the best shape to be driving either.

He went closer to the desk, studying the computer screen for a moment, his thoughts no longer on the images tiled there. Somehow, letting a less than straight Scully stagger off into the night (the snowy night, he amended the thought with a glance toward the balcony) had deaden his interest in fake nudes of Shania Twain...

Damn.

He switched off the computer without going through the hassle of shutting it down and went to the balcony, sliding on his bare feet across the slick tiles, stopping himself at the rail short of going over the side. Recovering, his heart still thudding from the near miss, he looked down, seventeen floors to the street, searching for a sign and found, with a stab of responsibility, a tiny little red-headed figure huddled against the cold.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ 福 ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Snowflakes landing on her face, Scully glanced up at the high-rise, eyeing the sparse sprinkling of lit windows across its face and wondered for a moment if she should have done this. She turned back and looked at the cab driver, "maybe you could wait for me?"

"I will have to run the meter, miss lady." The dark man called back over the seat to her in a thick and ambiguously foreign accent.

She had already poured a fortune out, and her cash on hand was limited. "Um, okay, never mind."

She lingered on the sidewalk, peering up again at the building wishing she could stop swaying long enough to count up to his... Surely she would be able to figure out which of these hundreds of windows belonged to Skinner... She grabbed her head to steady it, stop the spinning, the pounding.

After the world was fixed again she headed off toward the entrance ignoring the fact that she was still wholly uncertain about coming here. He hadn't answered the phone either, but it had rung busy, so at least she knew he was home. But what was Skinner doing on the phone this late and for so long?

The line rang busy again even as she traveled up in the elevator.

She put away her cell phone, noticing the battery needed a serious charge.

Maybe he took the phone off the hook, she thought heading down the hall toward his door. What if he's taken the phone off the hook to get some sleep— What if he's got... company? She suddenly thought, her knuckles wavering just a hair away from knocking.

She bit her lip and forged ahead, rapping the door hard.

There was a long beat before she heard the tumblers turn in the lock.

She tensed, batting away the intense urge to shut her eyes.

The door came open on a man she might have never recognized in a line-up as her superior; without his glasses, bare foot and wearing baggy gray sweats and a faded navy tee shirt with stray threads jutting out from where there used to be sleeves and a jagged tear from the neckline down that created a "V" the manufacturer hadn't intended.

Staggered, her eyes widened.

He was scowling at her, but her eyes had roamed away from his direct gaze and lit on the hint of chest hair escaping the homemade V-neck.

"Scully, what are you doing here?"

She jerked her attention back up.

Taking him in on the whole, she swallowed hard finding that she really wasn't quite sure now why she'd come all the way over here in the wee hours of the morning and through the falling snow.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ 福 ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Ass over heels, she went with a "Whoop!" Crashing down, her feet flew up and she felt her foot smash something, and heard Skinner let out an undeniable "Oof!"

What in God's name had she kicked? She miserably wondered as she tried to pick herself up off the floor in the dark.

The lights came on— track lights running the length of the living room ceiling— like stage lights and she was the center attraction.

"Scully?" Skinner all but yelled, one hand still on the light switch across the room, the other cupping himself as though shielding them from further attack.

"I-I couldn't see when you turned off the television." She explained.

"Well, what the hell were you doing anyway?"

"I wanted some aspirin?" It came out more of a question than an answer.

He was staring at her as though he couldn't believe his eyes and she realized her tee shirt- his tee shirt- was hiked up around her thighs exposing the crotch of her emerald green panties.

She yanked the hem down, scooting back out of the wreckage of his end table.

"Watch out," he warned, suddenly coming toward her in a sort of stumble. "There's glass here-"

She just missed putting her foot right on the jagged piece of colored glass that had been a.. a candy dish or... well, something only moments ago.

"I'm sorry... I'll replace it."

Gingerly picking glass from the carpet Skinner shook his head, grunting, "I didn't like it anyway."

She looked at a shard she'd collected for him and wondered aloud, "what was it?"

"An ash tray."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ 福 ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Great."

She had only just started to dial the cab company's number when the battery died on the cell phone. She checked the lobby for a pay phone, there were none. Stuffing the cell phone back into her coat pocket she looked out the front doors to the bare street out in front of Skinner's apartment building, curious as to what her chances of a cab passing by were.

She went out and stood at the very edge of the awning, looking up and down the street through the falling snow. There wasn't a moving car in sight.

She held herself against the cold, analyzing what the hell could have been wrong with her- coming all the way over here when he hadn't even answered. Sure, the busy signal had told her he was home, but what had she expected, Skinner to eagerly start packing his bags?

She huffed at the stupidity her drinking had blanketed her in.

"Scully..." She turned to see Skinner standing in the doorway. He'd thrown on a jacket and loafers, no socks. "Just stay here," he said to her humbly, "it's too late to be crossing town."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ 福 ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Sir?"

She was at the door, softly knocking.

The cursing, the grunting had increased to the point where she could no longer ignore it and became concerned, suspecting he had gotten a piece of glass in his foot.

When there was no answer she called again through the door, "sir, are you all right-?"

The door came open. "Yes," he breathed, standing on one foot.

"You have glass in your foot, don't you?" she asked, eyeing his impression of a flamingo.

His breath left him in a low, long hiss of resignation. "Yes," he said refusing to make eye contact.

"Do you need help?"

Rather than nodding, wrought with indignation, he swung side to side and hopped back into the bathroom.

"Sit down," she needlessly instructed as she took the tweezers from him. He gave the toilet a leery glance, he didn't need to say anything. She sighed gesturing toward the tub, "sit there, then."

Looking unmistakably miserable with the situation he sat down, still making no eye contact.

"Which one is it?"

"The right," he answered propping his ankle across his left knee. First, before allowing her to see, he looked at the bottom of his foot, grimacing. "It's really in there."

Scully fit herself between the wall and his foot, leaning in to see what she could see, thinking how huge his feet were... You know what they say about men with big fee... Shut up!

She tucked her hair behind her ears and went to work. “Do you have any alcohol?”

“Haven’t we had enough tonight?” he cynically asked.

“Rubbing alcohol…” she explained opening cabinets in search of something to sterilize the tweezers. “Left side, I think…”

Coming back, she winced. "This is probably going to hurt a little," she warned him.

"It can't hurt any worse than when I put my weight on it."

He was wrong.

When she dug into the skin he'd already torn at trying to dislodge the shard he flinched, losing his already precarious balance and started to fall. Scully went to steady him precisely as he blindly grabbed for support. His butt slid off the tub side just as he latched onto her, his weight dragging her with him backward.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ 福 ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"How many?" She looked at him, striking a blank.

"How many aspirin do you need?" He asked her again, gesturing toward her with the open bottle primed to dispense pills.

"Just two," Scully answered, her jaw dropping immediately—she could have sworn that she saw his mouth move, saw him mock her. “Just two…”

"Tap or ice water?" He grunted, handing her the pills.

"Tap," she answered and watched him get a glass and draw the water.

He was really very gracious despite the way he was grinding out every question. He'd invited her into his home rather than let her cross town alone late at night. He'd given her his room for what was left of the night. Even giving her free reign over his dresser drawer with the instructions to wear what she wanted; she had carefully picked through the neat stacks of tees and sweats but only found a shirt long enough to cover her, no matter how she had tried (and she really had) his huge sweat pants wouldn't stay up over her tiny hips.

And what thanks had she shown for all his kindness— ogling him while he slept, crushing his end table and breaking his knick-knacks? It was no wonder he was growling like a big surly bear.

She could have always said no, she mused heading back upstairs to the bedroom.

Why hadn't he offered her a ride home? Too late for one reason, but more certainly because he too had been drinking. Drinking alone and in front of the computer. She climbed into the bed thinking of how really very sad that picture was.

Shifting in the bed, feeling out of place, and not so much uncomfortable but nervous. She was now lying in his bed, her skin against the same sheets his body touched. The sheets were crisp and clean, and this almost surprised her. She had known a few single men and their beds; the sheets were rarely changed if they were lucky or mindful enough to own a second set of bedding. The bedrooms were another story altogether; smelling of dirty clothes hampers or some obscure source of mildew. Skinner's room smelled good, like sandalwood or cedar, warm and inviting, maybe even a little mysterious.

It was all around actually; on the bedding, in the pillows, dusting the shirt she wore.

Her cheeks began to burn as she languished in the mysteries of Walter Skinner's scent, drifting sleepily down the stairs to the sofa, to his side...

A knock sounded at the door suddenly.

It was soft, unintrusive to the point that she believed he thought she was already asleep.

She said nothing, staring at the door in the dark.

A moment passed before the door came open slowly, soundlessly and Skinner's silhouette appeared, cut in the dull light from downstairs. Holding her breath, her body flushing with nervous anticipation, she watched him enter the room- come toward the bed... She caught her breath shakily, preparing for... And he kept going, right past the bed and into the bathroom.

When the lock clicked she sat up and hit the mattress, mouthing a curse as the light came on in there, slipping out under the door in a sliver. Dowsed desire turned to curiosity as she listened to the hushed sounds from in the bathroom: drawers and cabinets opening and closing, rummaging and shifting. Then, what had started quietly grew louder, the level carefulness dropping dramatically as the search, for whatever it was he was hunting, became more deliberate and concentrated.

Curses began slipping out from under the door.

Then, silence for the longest time.

Okay, well, she couldn't just listen like this, she decided and laid back down pulling a pillow over her head. Give the man some privacy for God's sake...

"Damn it!"

Scully came up off the bed again at the sound of the curse.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ 福 ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

A tangle of arms and legs, struck at inconceivable angles, Skinner and Scully tumbled into the tub. He caught the full brunt of Scully's weight atop him, his head going back from the force, smacking the tiles hard.

Once the initial shock wore off, he groaned dully.

Scully could fell the vibration of his voice, it was hard not to the way she found herself pressed between him and the tub side; her nose smashed into his armpit, her shoulder twisted down and half under his weight, her left leg still over the tub side while her right was shoved precariously close to his crotch pinned by his thick thigh. Although not entirely an unpleasant experience, pinned against his body this way, except for his arm pressing into her ribs like she was lying across a telephone pole.

She realized extrication was a must... and it wasn't going to be a simple matter.

"Pull..." he started to say as they began to work together on this puzzle, "no, can you just...?"

He was trying to scoot back and help her up, but there was no leverage to be found.

"You... turn toward me," she instructed hopefully.

After a great deal of grunting and struggling, attempting a good deal of care not to pinch, squeeze or otherwise injure (or offend) either of them, Skinner could clearly see only brute force was going to do the job.

"Hold on," he warned.

She hesitated, leery of what he was about to do. "Okay," she timidly answered.

He as well was hesitant, aware of the dangerous proximity of her knee to his genitalia. If he wasn't precise, if he didn't calculate his move just right...

Prudence abandoned, he heaved himself toward her, turning on his side. The move shifted Scully onto her back, jarring her teeth and sending her left foot into the air- slapping the shower handle full to C!

Ice cold spray blasted them, Skinner taking it full in the face while Scully caught it through-and through over her back and butt. Gasping, shocked, a living exhibition of approach avoidance, they scrambled clumsily away from the icy deluge while at the same time kicking at the handle together. Somehow, more luck than accuracy in aim, Skinner caught it just right and the glacial rain cut off.

The drain drained and the shower head dripped its last drip. What seemed the length of eternity passed in silence; each sound amplified a hundred-fold.

She was soaked.

He was soaked.

Scully fought off shivers, almost afraid to look up at him.

His face was covered with wetness, droplets of water beaded on his bare scalp rolled down over his creased brow and into his eyes. Squinting, he licked the water from his mouth and said, "Just one less thing to do in the morning."

Her laugh came out in a robust burst.

"You had this planned, didn't you?" He accused her, beginning to laugh as he reached up to wipe water from his eyes.

"What?" She laughed.

He shook his head, a broad, unconditionally uncharacteristic smile spreading across his mouth.

"This reeks of a scheme..."

She giggled, a motion that set her body shuddering against him.

His smile suddenly waned and she slowly stifled her merriment. He looked down on her, his eyes growing dark and fixed. She felt his leg pressing more firmly against the cleft between her legs and caught her breath, thrown by the intense response.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ 福 ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"...Mid-level disturbances over this area, so we won't be seeing a change for at least a while."

The weather report wasn't promising.

It was downright awful, but Dana Scully had nowhere she needed to be- except for right where she was.

She stretched herself long and hard, luxuriating in the coolness of the sheets against her bare skin, delighting in the cause of her soreness, her exhaustion. Nowhere, she thought again and rolled herself up in the bedding, turning from the television to the window. Nowhere at all but right here, she smiled seeing the morning light creeping through the blinds.

"You better not be asleep." She turned back seeing Skinner coming into the bedroom, balancing a plate of- what all she couldn't tell in the bad light.

"I'm not," she grinned and sat up, watching him come around the bed, high stepping clumps of shed clothes and discarded towels. She reveled, watching him stroll before her, magnificently bare, seeing full well that he did not have to suck it in.

He stopped suddenly and seemed to hop sideways, as though he'd stepped on something unexpectedly.

"What is it?"

He searched the floor in the dark for a moment, and then said, "I think I'm going to need to have my carpets shampooed."

Scully covered her mouth, but the laugh came out through her fingers. "I'm sorry."

He blew his breath out. "Takes two to tango," he chuckled, climbing back in bed beside her, careful not to spill the contents of the plate. "I hope left over Chinese is all right."

His feet were cold, and she jumped when they touched her leg under the covers.

"Sorry," he apologized handing her a fork and napkin. "The kitchen floor is like ice."

"Just like the rest of the area," she said around a cheek full of what she thought was Orange Chicken and pointed toward the TV. "Weather channel says it's only going to get worse before it gets better."

"The weather channel always says that" he replied, intently trying to load his fork with fried rice. He carefully brought it to his mouth, cupping one hand beneath the wobbly heap- only to have the rice cascade into his lap a hairbreadth from his lips.

"Let me get that for you," she said putting her fork down and taking the plate from him, smiling mischievously as she leaned over toward the spill.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ 福 ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

He considered her for a drawn instance, a low hum escaping him, a sort of "hmmm," as if he were pondering what it was going to be like, relishing in the anticipation, resisting the fascination.

Water dripped from his chin onto Scully's lower lip.

Slowly, with full eye contact, she flicked her tongue out and lapped it away, tilting her head back, her chin up.

What more invitation did he need?

Something snapped- all good sense- wisdom and care tossed aside...

Startling her, appearing more to fall rather than making any controlled descent, Skinner covered her mouth with his, stealing her breath away. She moaned in sweet surprise and heard him echoing her sound, feeling his weight press against her, his fingers plunge into her hair.

She gathered herself up closer to him, fretfully freeing her arms from under him to throw them around his neck. His fingers tangled in her wet hair, his palm pressing against her scalp urging her more deeply into the kiss, his tongue parting her lips.

Urging was needless, her entire body was singing.

In a furious sudden gesture, he drew back, rearing up onto his knees, his back straight, his torso stretched and towering over her as he yanked his shirt off. He threw it wantonly from the confines of the tub, looking after it as it hit the floor, then back down at Scully. There was a deranged look in his eyes and his mouth- his jaw, was working in his furious deliberation to continue.

With singular strength she never believed herself to possess, Scully lifted her torso and peeled the wet tee shirt off over her head. Dropping the garment over the tub side she left her arms up over her head, stretching her body out before him, arching her back and thrusting her pelvis into his groin, offering herself fully.

"Hmmm?" She questioned him, her eyes half lit and beckoning him.

A brutish growl issued from deep in his chest, his answer his hands dropping onto her stomach, his fingers raking down across her hips and hooking the band of her panties...

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ 福 ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Again, with the "Oof!"

Scully straightened and could have sworn his eyes were crossed. Some dark mischievous part of her nearly laughed at the sight.

Misjudging distance, Skinner reclined perhaps a little quickly, a bit too eagerly accepting her offer to clean up the spill of rice in his bare lap and promptly banged the back of his skull against the headboard.

"God," she declared just looking at him dumbly, "are you all right?"

He rubbed his head, blenching.

"Couldn't be better..." he replied and after a moment he looked at her with a wry smirk, "but I think we need to begin immediate medical procedures to reduce swelling..."

"Really?" she grinned, and without breaking eye contact began to caress the inside of his thigh.

He scrunched down into the bed, closing his eyes and taking a shuddered breath as her fingers traveling lightly over his skin and brushed ever so softly over his hair, teasing every she passed over.

Blood coursing, he began to throb and reacted to the sensation by thrusting his hips up with the desperate hope of making full contact with her hand.

"Hold on a second," she abruptly said, suddenly taking her hand away and turning from him.

Complete and unendurable frustration overwhelmed him. "What-Where are you..."

"I've got to get rid of this plate before we're rolling in Moo Shu..."

"I've already got rice all over me, what difference does..." he broke off, she was already off the bed, clearly not listening to him.

He blew out a tremendous gust of air, feeling like he would explode.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ 福 ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The bathroom mirror reflected their frenzied dance, and they liked the quick, transient snatches they caught of their own images; clumsy and bungling scrambling, groping and grabbing, sordid and guileless- the starved served a feast.

Interruption came but once when all but the sink faucets were savagely cleared from the counter top, swept aside— a shower toiletries clattered to the floor.

Scully squeaked; the countertop cold against her bottom when he deposited her up there. Her legs spread and wrapped around his waist, her hands roamed his back with rash swipes, her fingers digging into his flesh in anxious response to his fiery touch. She rubbed herself against him, realizing it was his stomach she was slicking her juices and tried lowering herself as much as the counter allowed.

"Wait," he breathed prying his mouth from hers, his hands from her breasts.

He grappled with the band of his sweatpants, trying not to put his full weight down on his foot- they hadn't quite gotten around to getting the glass out, exactly. Fevered, she reached down to help free him, working blindly with her face buried in his chest, her hands tangled with his.

Maybe a little too anxious, she jabbed him with a thumb nail in the process of stripping him bare, causing him to jump and take a step- pressing the sliver of glass home.

Yelping, hissing, he brought his foot up and hopped back trying to catch hold of the door jam.

Scully covered her face, unable to bear watching him fall out the door, his sweats pulled down around his knees. Once she heard the thud, the unmistakable sound of his full weight hitting the floor, she jumped off the counter to her feet.

"I think someone's trying to tell us something..." he panted, flat on his back and staring up at the ceiling, his exposed erection struck up like a spire.

She looked at it in light of the bathroom; thinking the only thing missing here had been a “boing!” sound effect.

"I can't hear anything," she whispered, dragging his sweats the rest of the way off before slithering along his outstretched body. "How's your foot?" she asked him and deliberately let a breast graze the dew dolloped head of his penis.

"What foot?" he muttered reaching down to capture her under the arms and hauled her fully atop him.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ 福 ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Rice brushed from himself and the sheets, his brief consideration to take matters into his own hands was interrupted as she collapsed into the bed beside him. Without hesitation, leaving no room for any further interference, he gathered her up in his arms and rolled over, pinning her beneath his weight.

He heard her catch her breath for the umpteenth time, the sound propelling his excitement, invigorating his want.

He bathed her neck with impatient kisses, plunging down over her collar bone to her breasts, first flicking at her nipples with his tongue then suckling as he wedged his knee down and eased her legs apart. He slipped a freed hand between them, touching her, slicking his fingers in the wetness, tracing the sensitive skin surrounding her folds, feeling her body instantly react.

Gulping in air, she strained against his weight, trying to rock herself against his fingers.

He satisfied her desires, separating her, slowly exploring, seeking and learning the map of her body, the places he would touch that caused her to shudder.

She caught her breath, and he knew; beneath his fingertip, hard and like the tinniest, he brushed and pressed, in rigid circular motions. Alert to her every breath and motion, he increased and decreased the pressure, savagely keeping her on the brink of orgasm.

"Please," she begged him, her body writhing with blind yearning. "I want you in me so bad..."

Hearing her breathy plea, the nastiness of her statement, he groaned as a whole new level of arousal surged through him. "You're so wet..." he exclaimed, dragging ragged breaths in as he positioned himself between her legs, almost unable to see straight.

She had already opened herself to him, pumping herself upward repeatedly, rocking her hips. "Fill me up again, please..."

"Oh, Christ..."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ 福 ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

January 16

Sunday Evening

The snow had stopped falling, but the melt was far off...

The balcony enclosure was packed full of fluffy white that blanketed the city. According to the news the airport could reopen soon, flights were delayed of course, but at least people would be able to get back into DC if they had so desired to travel during the three-day weekend- those lucky enough to have Monday off...

* "... You were right, I was wrong. You said good-bye, I said goodnight...

It's all been done. It's all been done..." *

Music was blaring from in the living room.

Scully had the stereo turned up high and was dancing around the furniture carelessly.

Skinner had come out of the kitchen ready to scold her, demand her to lower the volume- God knew he'd had enough happen in this apartment to piss the neighbors off- but seeing her flinging about in his dress shirt, bare buttocks exposed with every twirl, he just couldn't bring himself to do anything other than go to her.

Nearly forty-eight hours together without a break, out of control and not giving a damn about the consequences, and her ability to ignite his hunger with a single word or gesture had not diminished

* ".... It's all been done. It's all been done!" *

He heard those lyrics and thought how nothing could have been more appropriate for the occasion, as he glanced at the hand cuffs dangling from his right wrist, then, his bareness, unable to remember exactly when he'd had clothes on the last time this weekend.

It had been too long for the two of them, that fact was more than obvious. They had gone beyond good judgment, thrown all caution to wind and had some of the best sex he could remember ever even contemplating. Good, fantastic, ungoverned, gleeful all-over-the-place, rug burn, clear-the-kitchen-table, chafing, leave-your-DNA-sample-at-the-door sex.

He caught her around the waist from behind in mid twirl, spinning her the rest of the way around, pulling her to him and kissing her in a motion so fluid, so natural, it surprised him.

She swayed in his embrace, returning the passion, her tongue exploring his mouth with all the delight of their first kiss, tasting him as though for the first time. An overwhelming sense of renewed longing rapt her, and perhaps it was that all the eagerness, the unbridled impetuosity gradually tapered and left between them unhurried tactile study, a savoring of the kiss that had suddenly taken on a decidedly tender and compassionate bearing.

* "If I put my fingers here, and if I say "I love you, dear"..." *

Something changed then. A tug, a pull, a touch, a caress... Something shifted, and all the wildness disappeared.

They parted, gaping and staring at one another, shocked and dismayed. In an instant the unpleasant knowledge that their time together was coming to an end passed between them. He touched her face, traced the curve of her neck and chin, feathered his fingers over her cheeks and brushed her hair back from her face, searching her eyes, studying her face as if to memorize every nuance.

She sighed softly and closed her eyes, enjoying his touch... until the handcuff clipped her clavicle. She shrunk away, whimpering against the unexpected pang.

"I've got to get these off before the delivery boy gets her," he told her, smoothing over the area the cuff had hit.

"He won't be here for a while in this weather," she said and grinned as she coaxed him to the floor with her.

She laid back flat on the floor looking up at him with a smile. Fumbling against the dangling cuff he worked to unbutton her shirt. Finished, he drew back the folds slowly, baring the smoothness of her torso, the fullness of her breasts, the cinnamon tuft of curls covering her inviting mound.

Her skin tingled with pleasure and anticipation as he ran his hands languidly over her stomach, her ribs. Closing her eyes, she moaned softly when he reached her breasts, pulsations coursed through her lower body, stifling her breath. Sightless, instinct driven, her hands went to him, passing over the incredible heat of his body, lavishing in the feel of his skin against her palms, the tickle of soft hair that trailed up his stomach, the texture turning coarse as she reached his chest and the well-defined swell of his pecs.

Enraptured, she inhaled sharply, feeling him slipping his hardness torturously slow over her, flirting penetration, slicking up and over her, discharging through her a fierce jolt of pleasure. She surged up, thrusting her hips toward him, sensing him trying to back away, knowing he wanted to make the moment last, but she couldn't wait.

Surrendering, he dipped into her, filling her, pushing deep inside. She was burning him up inside her, swallowing his strength as she constricted her muscles around him, drawing him to the brink of climax. Needing her to join him, wanting her to climax with him. As if sensing this, she reached down where they had become one, stroking herself, equaling his rhythmic strokes within her.

Staggered, half moans issued from her throat as she tilted her head back, feeling the wave of tightness beginning in her stomach, the seizure crawling through her insides, drawing the muscles of her vagina so taut for a brief moment she felt as though she could lose control, the sensation so intense.

Concentration shifted to a perverse level as they surged together, driving each toward orgasm with more forceful thrusts, matching the harshness of their ragged breathing. Paralyzing in suddenness Scully felt herself succumbing. She gasped in response to the twinges, the liquefied heat of him pumping his orgasm deep inside her.

His strength drained he collapsed over her, finally lowering his torso from its rigid up right position, bracing himself on his elbows. The sudden move caused him to slip from her and sent a shudder through them both. He buried his face against her neck, his breath was hot across her shoulder. She shivered as little aftershocks raced through her.

He muttered something and despite the closeness of his mouth to her ear, she couldn't understand him. "What is it...?" she wheezed a little, her hands absently messaging his shoulders and back, perspiration across his back cool to her touch.

He lifted his head just enough to speak, his voice spent, "I said, what have you done to me?"

Feeling flattered, she offered a breathless giggle in response and ran her fingers over his head, feeling the perspiration on his bare scalp, the dampness along the sides as she raked through his closely cropped hair.

She was beginning to sense a possible rug burn along her spine and tail bone when he finally lifted his weight from her and rolled to his side facing her, still touching her body with his. They laid together content and tried to ignore the stereo blaring music through the living room around them. For the moment this was their private oasis, a patch of earth untouched by any other than themselves—

Rambunctious, cop-like knocking suddenly erupted through the front door.

That was, of course, except for the delivery boy.

Invigorated with a new energy, Skinner came off the floor as if caught in the act- well, nearly- snatching the throw rug from the easy chair, wrapping it around him as Scully sat up pulling his shirt back together over herself. "Where's my wallet..." he began muttering, hunting blindly around without his glasses.

"The kitchen bar- the counter thing," she stammered and pointed toward the dining area. "Over there, I think."

He staggered forward, his legs quivering as he called toward the door, "just a minute!"

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ 福 ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

When the door came open he wasn't quite sure what to think, or say for that matter. Was there really anything he could say?

The epitome of disheveled, Walter Skinner stood in the open door looking back at Mulder with what hair he had standing straight out from his head as though he hadn't combed it all weekend, a throw rug precariously wrapped about him and a wad of money clutched in one outstretched hand that just happened to be sporting a set of cuffs.

Mulder stared back at his superior, awestruck.

"Uh," he said trying to process this quickly, get past it even quicker, "I've, uh, been trying to call you since Saturday, but your phone's been busy."

“I’ve been on-line." Skinner shot back, unruffled- outwardly.

"For two days?"

"I was downloading a big file."

“Must have been some big file…”

"Do you have enough mone—" Scully appeared and jumped, her question bitten off at the sight of Mulder just past Skinner's arm. Dumbly, she actually jumped back behind Skinner for an instant, hiding from her partner.

Mulder took a step back, a lop-sided grin smeared over his mouth. "I guess this answers that—"

"Mista' Skinna'," a voice came from behind Mulder and made them all jump.

A fresh-faced young Asian man poked his head around the corner, grinning immediately and holding up a huge brown bag. "House of Wang," he announced.

"You got that right," Mulder muttered.

Skinner shoved money at the delivery boy and snatched the sack from him.

"Lots of extra wonton for you, Mista' Skinna'," he declared graciously and started counting the money. "You’ve been very good customa' this weekend."

"This is wrong on just so many different levels..." Mulder muttered, shaking his head at the scene playing out before him.

"Thanks.. thanks a lot." Skinner's cool facade was beginning to crumble as he handed the bag off to Scully still cowering behind him.

Pleased with his tip, delivery boy gave them all a quick salute and was gone.

The silence stretched to the breaking point between the three of them before Scully finally poked her head out form around Skinner to ask Mulder, "Did you get married?"

He shook his head, shifting his gaze between them for so long that Skinner was ready to shut the door in his face if he didn't say something soon— Then, finally, shaking his head, Mulder pursed his mouth a thoughtful instant before he told them with an air of whimsical denial, "there's just really no good way to end this, is there?"

Skinner shook his head. "No."

Mulder nodded, thoughtful. "I guess if I say 'I'll see you at the office' that would only intrude on this situation?"

Scully nodded, hugging the delivery bag. "Yes," she said.

Mulder nodded, reflective, then, stepping back from the door, smiling as he went, he said, "enjoy the wonton."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ 福 ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

~~ Done. Over. Fin. ~~

~~ A crack PWP production by PR Chung ~~

[penny00dreadful]

Inspiration Saturday/Seven Sentence Sunday Monday

Thank you to my darling @just-my-latest-hyperfixation for the tag 🖤

Inspiration: So I'm not 100% on how this one goes so I'm making up my own rules! I think it's a mashup of other wip tag games and supposed to be like what inspired you for this fic, but I don't wanna just be like all of Dungeons and Dragons so I made a lil something out of all the pictures on my pinterest board that have been helping me feel the vibe. At least the vibe of the first chapter.

And here's seven sentences from that chapter!

“She’s alive?” Eddie sounded so completely caught off guard. So surprised. So hopeful. So foolish. Steve gripped his sword and swung, unsheathing it in one fluid motion, aiming right for Eddie’s neck but the bard was fast. He managed to duck out of the way of the blade just in time, a chunk of his hair being sliced clean through before he took off down the alleyway with Steve hot on his tail.

Surprise! You're all getting tagged: @hbyrde36 @cranberrymoons @farahsamboolents @spoookysix @dreamwatch

[elpscroll]

Saturday Report 130

Yes, we are not in Wix anymore, but only for the Saturday Reports, the website is still there.

If you don't know yet, I had some problems with posting the Saturday Reports there, and here is just much better...

You do get that "Please make an account bar down there", sorry about that, but hey you can still see the latest report without it! You will need one to see older ones though... They're all here by the way, it took a long time but it's nice to have this archive... Now if only I had v.1.0 of the scenario still

I also noticed the number was wrong while getting all Reports, that's why we're back in numbers.

Anyway! Back to the actual reporting! Well I've been doing some nice progress with the planning of "Amelian Reasons Why You Will Lose." and I'm almost done with it. Soon I will be able to start the actual writing of the stuff here. I'm aiming for like, 9 hours of more content, which is the usual big size update around here, though of course it will take a long time to complete.

Next Saturday we'll most likely start talking about the writing and have actual in game screenshots, but for now, it's another week of wait.

Hey, I can post the new future Flowcharts of the Memories update too, that should be noice.

Three links down here, pick the place you like to view it

https://mega.nz/file/Fh4GXBYY#rBsUMdct_iJK3dDKoqCbVz0kINo2OZ86CSYTiRWVgvc

https://www.mediafire.com/view/dcwysjne6evrth9/2.8_completebiblity.png/file

https://drive.google.com/file/d/1HrMFiDb2BcozvVvcjbT25sobjO766Beb/view?usp=sharing

Anyway, that was all, have a nice Saturday and see you on the next one!

What did you think of the the new "Day 1" of both Abby and Zoey?

Vote here!

(Poll will stay up until 18 of December)

How much did you like the new Halloween special, Gadgets VS Ghosts?

Vote here!

(Poll will stay up until 2 of December)

What am I doing?: Doing the initial planning for the new stuff in the Memories Route

Progress of the update: Rough writing:

Nothing

Animation:

Nothing

Music and Sound:

Nothing

[tmnthq17-blog]

Not Afraid

{A/N: I know that in reality Taylor Swift wrote the song, but in this universe this song hadn't previously existed}

In a small apartment somewhere in NYC, a girl sits hunched over her desk working on her latest, as her boyfriend would call it, 'masterpiece'. That girl was none other than Y/N, the 6 month long girlfriend of a certain purple-clad hero. Y/N groaned in frustration as she crumpled yet another piece of paper into a ball and tossed it over her shoulder aiming for the trash can in her room. Unfortunately, instead of landing in the trash can, it gently hit her roommate, April O'Neil, in the head.

April: "Hey, what did that paper ever do to you to deserve the job of hitting me in the head?"

Y/N smiled as she turned in surprise to see her roommate in the doorway to her bedroom.

Y/N: "Oops, sorry April, I've just been working on a song and so far all my ideas are useless."

April: "Hey, don't beat yourself up about it. The right idea will come to you when it comes to you."

Y/N: "Thanks Apes, so where have you been on a Saturday afternoon? Job searching again?"

April: "No, I was hanging with the guys, all except Donnie. Leo said something about 'preparing for your next hangout sesh'. Just out of curiosity, when is your next hangout sesh?"

Y/N: "Tonight, although I don't see any reason why he should have to 'prepare' anything. Did Leo say he seemed nervous or anything?" 

April: "Please, has Donnie ever been nervous about anything? Overconfident maybe, but nervous? I don't think so."

Y/N: "Well, you'd be surprised to find out that there's more to him than meets the eye. Although, I keep telling him there's never any reason to be-"

Y/N stopped mid-sentence as an idea popped into her head. April gave a look of confusion at the sudden pause.

April: "Y/N, is everything ok?"

Y/N: "It's better than ok. I finally have an idea for a song!"

April: "Seriously, you have a full song in your head in under 20 seconds?!"

Y/N: "What can I say? I guess I'm just that good."

April replied with a sly smirk.

April: "That, or spending all your free time with Donnie has made you a bit too cocky."

They both gave a small laugh at the idea before Y/N began the music she had prepared in advance for her current work in progress. However, they were both unaware that the man, or turtle in question had just arrived at their apartment's balcony, opened the window, and had stopped short of Y/N's bedroom entrance awaiting to hear his girlfriend's latest project.

{A/N: Bold and underlined is wherever I've changed the lyrics}

Y/N:

There's something 'bout the way

The street looks when it's just rained

There's a glow off the pavement, you walk me to the car

And you know I wanna ask you to dance right there

In the middle of the parking lot, yeah

Oh, yeah

We're driving down the road, I wonder if you know

I'm trying so hard not to get caught up now

But you're just so cool, run your hands through your hair

{A/N: In his human disguise of course}

Absent-mindedly making me want you

And I don't know how it gets better than this

You take my hand and drag me head first, fearless

And I don't know why but, with you I'd dance

In a storm in my best dress, fearless

So, baby, drive slow 'til we run out of road in this fast-paced town

I wanna stay right here, in this passenger's seat

You put your eyes on me

In this moment now, capture it, remember it

'Cause I don't know how it gets better than this

You take my hand and drag me head first, fearless

And I don't know why but with you I'd dance

In a storm in my best dress, fearless

Oh, oh

Well, you stood there with me in the doorway

My hands shake, I'm not usually this way but

You pull me in and I'm a little more brave

It's the first kiss, it's flawless, really something

It's fearless

Oh, yeah

'Cause I don't know how it gets better than this

You take my hand and drag me head first, fearless

And I don't know why but with you I'd dance

In a storm in my best dress, fearless

'Cause I don't know how it gets better than this

You take my hand and drag me head first, fearless

And I don't know why but with you I'd dance

In a storm in my best dress, fearless

Oh, oh

Oh-oh, yeah

As the song ended, April momentarily had her mouth agape before shaking herself out of her dazed state to focus her attention on her friend, who was patiently waiting for feedback.

April: "Wow Y/N, I don't know what else to say except that it was great."

Y/N: "Thanks, April. What did you think, Handsome?"

Y/N turned to the doorway with a knowing smile as Donnie then stepped into their line of sight with a sheepish grin.

Donnie: "How did you know I was-"

Y/N: "Babe, I spend all my free time with you and your family. Not to mention the fact that I'm your girlfriend. I'm pretty sure I've picked up a few things on how to tell when there's a tech-savvy ninja in my home."

Donnie: "Touché, my dear. As for your question, you've once again written another masterpiece my Nightingale."

April: "Well, I'll leave you two lovebirds to your own personal business, so long as that business has nothing to do with funny business."

Y/N: "Moi, acting ungentlemanly towards my girlfriend? How on Earth could you suggest such a thing?"

April gave a playful eye roll at her friend's overly dramatic 'performance' before getting up to walk towards the door and shut it behind her.

Y/N: "So, I hear you've prepared something for tonight? May I ask what that might be?"

Donnie: "But of course, my dear. You see, April told me not too long ago that you have never seen any of my father's movies, nor have you seen the Jupiter Jim classics. So, I propose that we partake in a marathon of what I believe to be the greatest movies in cinematic history."

Y/N: "Well, Drama Queen, I would be honored to join you in an activity such as the one you've suggested."

So they did just as Donnie proposed. They sat on Y/N's bed, Y/N cuddled into Donnie's plastron, smiling and enjoying themselves throughout their marathon and long after as the night progressed. As they both began to drift into a peaceful slumber, Donnie's arms wrapped around his love's small form as he pressed a kiss to her forehead before relaxing into the pillows they both laid against. As of right now, they were both sure of one thing: As long as they stuck by each other...

They were not afraid of the years to come.

[nvidiawatchdog]

Nvidia stock price will hit $55 in the next 3 months.: Opinion

Week 15, Q2

Saturday, 10:45pm

April 19, 2025

Author: John

Friendly readers,

There is game in china called GO. The aim of this game is to surround your opponent leaving him no where to go. Guess what, the Chinese have been playing this game for thousands of years.

On Thursday Nvidia stock price closed at $101.49 a decrease of 2.87% from the previous day close. Nvidia is caught up not just in a tariff war but a license war between the U.S. and China.

The majority of key mineral earth export comes from China. This materials are very important because they are used to produce the technology Nvidia and other tech companies use to manufacture their product. Think silicone, dysprosium, gadolinium, lutetium, samarium, scandium, terbium, yttrium, these are critical for the U.S. economy.

The Chinese have always had the goal of being the worlds manufacturer. 70% of devices that use Nvidia's chip are manufactured in china, many of the these devices are rerouted through Mexico, Malaysia, Cambodia etc. to avoid paying tariffs.

The Good news for China is that they alternative. Huawei (A Chinese tech companies that was bard from the U.S. and many other countries) has made a chip that is as powerful as the H20 chips which Nvidia was allowed to sell to the U.S. before the U.S. government placed restrictions on them.

Analyst say that the chip made by Huawei is as powerful as the H20 with the same accelerated computing. It doesn't matter whether the U.S places tariffs on china of 1200%, it will not hurt china because china doesn't want U.S. made product.

In a negotiations the U.S. might not get what they want but the Chinese will. From the way I see it compared to 10 years ago china has more leverage today than the U.S and they are aware of it.

Joe Biden pressured ASML (the semiconductor chip making Machine producer) from selling it latest machine to Chinese companies citing security reasons.

This means that China can't make it own advance chip and compete in the AI race. But all this could change as the Chinese might put forward the right to buy this advance machine from ASML.

"Save your strength and Bide your time" no one used to like the Chinese but now many countries hates america more than they hate like china. They would rather do business with china than with america.

Like the boardgame GO china have been surrounding america and now america is running out of places to run to but the only people that don't know this yet is the American government.

If china gets a deal and part of that deal is to remove restrictions on the chip making Machine by ASML. The Chinese will try to make a better machine and when they succeed they will have no use for ASML.

When china can produce chips better than Nvidia they will cut the price, forcing Nvidia to do the same or run for the heels. that's the Chinese way.

Your favorite monitor

John (CEO)

DISCLAIMER

NVIDIA Watchdog is not associated with the NVIDIA Corp. NVIDIA Watchdog does not own any NVIDIA shares. Every information and opinions provided is for educational purpose only and reflects the opinions of the authors. Author's opinions are based on information that is considered reliable. Always ensure to do your own research. Past performance does not denote future result and NVIDIA Watchdog does not guarantee any outcome or profit. Numbers mentioned may fluctuate depending on when you are reading this post.

Company logo and pictures used belong to their respective copyright holders. NVIDIA Watchdog displays them for editorial purposes only.

ANNOUNCEMENT

Tomorrow I will I will be sharing how much it cost to make an Nvidia chip. C ya!

[nextlooptechno]

Top Tech Events In April 2025

Don’t Miss These Top Tech Events in 2025

Nextloop Technologies LLP

5,035 followers

April 4, 2025

Are you an IT employee or an aspiring techie? Upgrade yourself within the global IT community by joining these conferences! Keep pace with modern trends, familiarize yourself with creative concepts, and make new contacts in different places. Don’t miss your chance to grow, link, and create!

This is a summary of the most intriguing technological summits, expos, and conferences that will offer unmatched opportunities for learning, networking, and innovation.

Let's get into it!

How Attending Tech Events Can Pay Off:

Build Networks: Establish relations with teammates, leaders in the field, and potential business partners that can help broaden your business ventures.

Enhance Your Skills: Attend new technology and best practices workshops and gain hands-on experience directly from the industry leaders.

Get New Ideas: To stay ahead of the competition, evaluate new products and services through their live presentations.

Climb Up the Career Ladder: Work on your professional development by acquiring new certificates and continuing education credits during the event.

Stay Motivated: Receive motivation for achieving your personal objectives by listening to inspiring keynote speakers and learning about their accomplishments.

List Of Top Tech Events to Attend In April 2025

1. ng-India: India’s Largest Angular Conference

Date: April 12, 2025

Location: Gurgaon, India

Organized by: Nomad Coder

Ng-India is considered one of the world’s leading and amazing Angular conferences, with an impressive attendance of over 500 web engineers from more than 15 countries collapsing under one roof.

Ng-India aims to bring together some of the top industry professionals, such as GDEs (Google Developer Experts), MVPs, and even open-source contributors, to provide informative presentations on Angular. Regardless of your level of experience, case studies and industry insights will provide you with useful knowledge to help you advance your web development abilities. Enjoy the exclusive opportunity to take part in more than ten engaging workshops led by an Angular expert and to win fantastic rewards for the top Angular projects. Don't let this opportunity to develop yourself, your abilities, and your important information slip by!

2. AgileDevOps: Testing the Future of Software Delivery

Date: April 11, 2025 (Friday, 9:30 AM - 6:00 PM IST)

Location: The Chancery Pavilion, Bangalore

Organized by: Navigo Seminars

AgileDevOps 2025 is the most exciting conference for project managers, software engineers, and testers who want to stay ahead of the curve in the rapidly changing field of DevOps.

Discover new DevOps frontiers, gain practical experience through workshop and lecture sessions, and learn how to integrate high-impact methods for high-quality software production. Additionally, participate in renowned DevOps hackathons to showcase your abilities and win prestigious rewards. Get to know business leaders and learn more about DevOps and its uses.

3. HackersMang: April 2025 Edition

Date: April 12, 2025 (Saturday, 9:30 AM - 5:00 PM)

Location: (UniCourt) Mangalore Infotech Solutions Pvt. Ltd., Mangalore

Organized by: Hackerspace Mangaluru

Join the thrilling HackersMang event where techies can learn, collaborate, and build amazing products together. Become part of highly participative workshops, seminars, and master classes held by specialists from IT and cybersecurity fields who conduct live scenarios.

Meet like-minded professionals, showcase your skills in exciting coding challenges, and receive a participation certificate to enhance your portfolio. Don’t miss this chance to gain new skills and discover the latest trends in cybersecurity and technology.

4. Fintech Fusion India 2025

Date: April 16, 2025 (Wednesday, 8:00 AM)

Location: Sheraton Grand Bengaluru Whitefield Hotel & Convention Center, Bengaluru

Organized by: Fintech Fusion India

Fintech Fusion India 2025 brings together leaders and innovators in the banking and finance industries to explore the future of digital finance.

Attend courses, conferences, and get-togethers focused on the latest advancements in finance, including blockchain and digital payments. Meet the leading experts in the field as they discuss their breakthroughs and outlooks for the financial services sector. Pitch your concepts and compete for prestigious fintech innovation awards. Grab the chance to influence how fintech develops in the future.

5. HackOline International Security Conference 2025

Date: April 19, 2025 (Saturday, 10:30 AM - 6:00 PM)

Location: Mumbai, Maharashtra

Organized by: Mrwebsecure Infosolution Pvt. Ltd.

The leading conference in cybersecurity, HackOline, analyzes the latest trends, issues, and developments in security.

Work hand in hand with security experts and leaders to dive into innovative security threats and solutions. Earn highly regarded cybersecurity certifications, join fun flag-capturing competitions, and learn in interactive workshops focused on skill development. Be a part of this extraordinary event to keep up with the endless shift in the world of cybersecurity.

6. Great International Developer Summit (GIDS)

Date: April 22-25, 2025

Location: Bangalore, Karnataka, India

Organized by: Developersummit.com

The most well-known and respected of several languages is GIDS, a conference for Asia-Pacific software professionals. It covers a wide range of issues, including programming languages, development processes, and emerging technologies.

Get exclusive access to conference recordings and materials, attend workshops and sessions conducted by experts, network with developers worldwide, and discover groundbreaking ideas. GIDS 2025 is the conference to attend if you want to be at the forefront of software development!

Agenda Highlights:

Industry Leaders and Subject Matter Experts—Insights from leading experts.

Panel Discussions—Key Trends in Agile and DevOps.

Awards Ceremony—Recognizing top performers.

Networking Sessions—Engage with professionals and peers.

Conclusion

We are inspired to provide our clients with the greatest solutions by our continued engagement with the tech community.

Attending these innovative tech events helps us stay ahead of industry trends and integrate the newest technologies into our work. What do you most eagerly anticipate? Kindly let us know your thoughts and recommendations; we would be happy to hear them!

[ivoryclinic]

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Ivory Dental Clinic 

Professional Dentist Near Dumdum Nagerbazar

ivorydentalclinicdumdumnagerbazar.in

2/ A, MOTIJHEEL AVENUE, DUM DUM, KOLKATA-74, 

ivorydentalclinic2018@gmail.com 

+91-7760906699 

Opening Hours 

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Opening Hours 

Friday- Saturday: 10:30am - 2pm || 5pm - 8 pm 

Sunday: Appointment Only 

[newstfionline]

Thursday, February 20, 2025

Trump administration fires thousands for ‘performance’ without evidence (Washington Post) The first message from her manager on Saturday afternoon misspelled Amanda Mae Downey’s name. The second mentioned “the news” about probationary federal workers and how the Trump administration planned to fire them. When Downey called her boss at a Michigan branch of the U.S. Forest Service for an explanation, she learned her name was on a firing list. She would have to come into the office to sign a letter formalizing her termination. And she had to do it before the holiday weekend was over. Many federal government employees were dismissed over the holiday weekend as managers confronted a Trump administration demand to fire workers by Tuesday. In group texts and in online forums, they dubbed the error-ridden run of firings the “St. Valentine’s Day Massacre.” The firings targeted new hires on probation, who have fewer protections than permanent employees, and swept up people with years of service who had recently transferred between agencies, as well as military veterans and people with disabilities employed through a program that sped their hiring but put them on two years’ probation. The Trump administration will not disclose how many workers it cut since last week, but the government employed more than 200,000 probationary workers as of last year. The termination letters hitting inboxes all struck the same note: Probationary workers were getting the ax for poor job performance. But many of those fired had just received positive reviews, or had not worked in the government long enough to receive even a single rating.

Trump says AP will be curtailed at the White House until it changes its style to Gulf of America (AP) President Donald Trump said Tuesday that he will continue to restrict The Associated Press’ access to his events and news conferences until the news outlet goes along with his renaming of the Gulf of Mexico in its reports. He acknowledged that the move was a presidential retaliation against the news agency’s editorial policy. “We’re going to keep them out until such time as they agree that it’s the Gulf of America,” Trump said, speaking to reporters who witnessed the signing of an executive order at Mar-a-Lago, his Florida estate. “We’re very proud of this country, and we want it to be the Gulf of America.” It was the first time the president himself had commented on the issue since the White House began not allowing AP to cover several of his events last week.AP spokeswoman Lauren Easton said Tuesday that “this is about the government telling the public and press what words to use and retaliating if they do not follow government orders. The White House has restricted AP’s coverage of presidential events because of how we refer to a location.”

Winter’s next wave of storms takes aim at the East Coast (AP) The latest in a long line of winter storms is taking direct aim at the East Coast, threatening to dump heavy snow and some ice in several states. A storm that dropped snow in the Midwest was spreading across the Tennessee and Ohio Valleys on Wednesday, bringing more misery to some places just starting to clean up from deadly weekend floods. Up to 10 inches (25 centimeters) of snow was possible along the Atlantic Coast in Virginia and significant ice accumulations were forecast in eastern North Carolina, the National Weather Service said. Elsewhere, a polar vortex took over from Montana to southern Texas. Bismarck, North Dakota, hit minus 39 degrees (minus 39.4 C) early Tuesday, breaking a record for the date set in 1910.

C.I.A. Expands Secret Drone Flights Over Mexico (NYT) The United States has stepped up secret drone flights over Mexico to hunt for fentanyl labs, part of the Trump administration’s more aggressive campaign against drug cartels, according to U.S. officials. The covert drone program, which has not been previously disclosed, began under the Biden administration, according to U.S. officials and others familiar with the program. But President Trump and his C.I.A. director, John Ratcliffe, have repeatedly promised more intense action against Mexican drug cartels. Increasing the drone flights was a quick initial step. The C.I.A. has not been authorized to use the drones to take lethal action, the officials said, adding that they do not envision using the drones to conduct airstrikes. For now, C.I.A. officers in Mexico pass information collected by the drones to Mexican officials. The flights go “well into sovereign Mexico,” one U.S. official said. The drones have proved adept at identifying labs, according to people with knowledge of the program. Fentanyl labs emit chemicals that make them easy to find from the air.

Brazil Charges Bolsonaro With Plotting a Coup After 2022 Election Loss (NYT) Jair Bolsonaro, Brazil’s former president, was charged on Tuesday with overseeing a vast scheme to hold on to power after losing the 2022 election, including one plot to annul the vote, disband courts and empower the military, and another to assassinate the nation’s president-elect. The accusations, laid out in a 272-page indictment, suggest that Brazil came strikingly close to plunging back into, in effect, a military dictatorship nearly four decades into its modern democracy. Attorney General Paulo Gonet Branco indicted Mr. Bolsonaro and 33 other people, including a former spy chief, defense minister and national security adviser, accusing them of a series of crimes against Brazil’s democracy. The case will now go before Brazil’s Supreme Court, which will decide whether to order Mr. Bolsonaro’s arrest and have him face trial. If convicted, he could face 12 to 40 years in prison, according to the indictment, though political analysts expect any sentence to be shorter.

Farming in France is on the decline. Who will feed the French? (CSM) Jean-Baptiste Maillier kicks through hay and mud as he passes through the open archway into his barn. Inside, a row of hulking Normande cows is lined up head to tail at the milking machine. After a loud beep, one steps onto a metal plate as a set of white tubes descends onto her teats. Fresh milk pours into a plastic receptacle below her. Here in Houdan, this scene is increasingly rare. Ten years ago, there were 22 dairy farmers in the area. Now, Mr. Maillier is the only one. Half of all France’s farmers are expected to retire in the next five years, and few young people are signing up to take their place. At stake is not just the survival of French agriculture but also a key part of what it means to be French: its food culture. Now, the French must decide how far they are willing to go to keep their diverse terroirs alive, says Jean-Pierre Poulain, a professor emeritus of food culture at the University of Toulouse—Jean Jaurès. As food prices rise and cheap imports crowd local goods off the shelf, “Are they willing to spend more on French-made products instead of buying a new cellphone?” he wonders.

US, Russia forge ahead on peace talks, without Ukraine (Reuters/NYT) U.S. President Donald Trump’s administration said on Tuesday it had agreed to hold more talks with Russia on ending the war in Ukraine after an initial meeting that excluded Kyiv. As the 4-1/2-hour meeting in the Saudi capital was underway, Russia hardened its demands, notably insisting it would not tolerate the NATO alliance granting membership to Ukraine. Ukraine has said it will not accept any deal imposed without its consent, and German Chancellor Olaf Scholz reiterated “there must be no decision over the heads of Ukraine.” Even before the talks took place, some European politicians accused Trump’s administration of handing free concessions to Moscow last week by ruling out NATO membership for Ukraine and saying it was an illusion for Kyiv to believe it could win back the 20% of its territory now under Russian control. Although Europe wants a larger role in the peace talks, it’s also divided about the aftermath. Consider European leaders’ recent talks about deploying soldiers in Ukraine after the war: France supported the idea. Britain conditioned its deployment on American backup. Poland said it needed to keep its forces at home to defend its own borders from Russia. Germany said these discussions were premature. None of this inspires much confidence for Ukraine. The West has fractured, and Russia knows it.

Trump calls Zelensky a 'dictator' as he hits back at 'disinformation' criticism (BBC) Donald Trump has escalated a war of words with Ukrainian President Volodymyr Zelensky, branding him a “dictator” who has done a “terrible job”. “Zelensky better move fast or he is not going to have a country left,” the US president wrote in a post on his Truth Social platform. Trump was hitting back after Zelensky earlier accused him of “living in a disinformation space” created by Russia, following US-Moscow talks about ending the war in Ukraine—which Kyiv was excluded from. The barbed comments traded between the two leaders began on Tuesday when Trump claimed Zelensky has an approval rating of 4% and appeared to blame Ukraine for starting the war.

As Israel uses US-made AI models in war, concerns arise about tech’s role in who lives and who dies (AP) U.S. tech giants have quietly empowered Israel to track and kill many more alleged militants more quickly in Gaza and Lebanon through a sharp spike in artificial intelligence and computing services. But the number of civilians killed has also soared, fueling fears that these tools are contributing to the deaths of innocent people. Israel’s recent wars mark a leading instance in which commercial AI models made in the United States have been used in active warfare, despite concerns that they were not originally developed to help decide who lives and who dies. “This is the first confirmation we have gotten that commercial AI models are directly being used in warfare,” said Heidy Khlaaf, chief AI scientist at the AI Now Institute and former senior safety engineer at OpenAI. “The implications are enormous for the role of tech in enabling this type of unethical and unlawful warfare going forward.”

Palestinian families flee West Bank homes in droves (AP) By car and on foot, through muddy olive groves and snipers’ sight lines, tens of thousands of Palestinians in recent weeks have fled Israeli military operations across the northern West Bank—the largest displacement in the occupied territory since the 1967 Mideast war. After announcing a widespread crackdown against West Bank militants on Jan. 21—just two days after its ceasefire deal with Hamas in Gaza—Israeli forces descended on the restive city of Jenin, as they have dozens of times since Hamas’ Oct. 7, 2023, attack on Israel. But unlike past operations, Israeli forces then pushed deeper and more forcefully into several other nearby towns, including Tulkarem, Far’a and Nur Shams, scattering families and stirring bitter memories of the 1948 war over Israel’s creation. During that war, 700,000 Palestinians fled or were forced from their homes in what is now Israel. That Nakba, or “catastrophe,” as Palestinians call it, gave rise to the crowded West Bank towns now under assault and still known as refugee camps. “This is our nakba,” said Abed Sabagh, 53, who bundled his seven children into the car on Feb. 9 as sound bombs blared in Nur Shams camp, where he was born to parents who fled the 1948 war.

Medical evacuations from Gaza slow amid uncertainty over right of return (Washington Post) For many Palestinians with critical injuries or chronic illnesses, a medical evacuation out of the Gaza Strip is the only way to access lifesaving care. But now, after President Donald Trump proposed to empty Gaza of its inhabitants, aid workers and doctors say they fear that those leaving the territory could be forfeiting their ability to one day return home. Inside Gaza, the evacuations have slowed for a range of reasons, including this uncertainty and tightened security checks, according to doctors and aid workers. At the same time, fewer countries are accepting evacuees, a development that aid workers say could partially be a result of fatigue more than a year into the crisis but that also reflects the growing fear that those who leave will not be allowed to return. All of this means a longer wait for families with injured loved ones. But doctors who have worked in Gaza’s hospitals say many of the people awaiting medical evacuations don’t have time. The World Health Organization says 25,000 people in Gaza are in need of medical evacuation, including 2,500 children who need urgent attention for war wounds and for chronic diseases like cancer that cannot be treated in the territory.

Residents say Rwanda-backed rebels are advancing on a third city in eastern Congo (AP) Rwanda-backed rebels appeared to be heading toward a third major city in eastern Congo, residents said Tuesday, as international pressure rose over the M23’s expansion in a mineral-rich region that’s critical for global technology. The M23 rebels on Tuesday attacked all the main Congolese army positions on the road to Butembo, a city of 150,000 people, and the situation was rapidly deteriorating, said Auguste Kombi, a civil society leader in Kitsombiro, a town along the road. Butembo is about 210 kilometers (130 miles) north of Goma, the city of over 2 million people that the M23 rebels seized last month as about 3,000 people were killed.

[swldx]

BBC 0508 11 Feb 2025

7285Khz 0458 11 FEB 2025 - BBC (UNITED KINGDOM) in ENGLISH from ASCENSION ISLAND. SINPO = 45333. English, s/on @0458z with Bowbells int. fb ID, pips and Newsday preview. @0501z World News anchored by Neil Nunes. § Trump urged Israel to cancel the ceasefire with Hamas if all hostages aren't released by Saturday, warning of severe consequences if the hostages aren't freed. Hamas delayed the release of hostages, citing Israel's violation of the ceasefire terms, and stated they would hold off on further releases until Israel meets its obligations. The ceasefire deal, which aimed to exchange hostages for Palestinians, faces increasing tension as Hamas demands a full ceasefire and Israeli withdrawal for remaining captives. § A consortium of investors led by Elon Musk offered $97.4bn to take over OpenAI, the maker of ChatGPT. The offer is the latest twist in a longstanding battle between Musk, the world's richest man and right hand to US President Donald Trump, and Open AI chief executive Sam Altman over the future of the start-up at the centre of the AI boom. In response to the bid, Altman posted on Musk's social media platform X: "no thank you but we will buy twitter for $9.74 billion if you want." § U.S. President Donald Trump agreed to consider exempting Australia from his steel and aluminium tariffs in view of the country's trade surplus with the United States, following a phone call with Prime Minister Anthony Albanese. Trump substantially raised tariffs on steel and aluminium imports on Monday, cancelling exemptions and duty-free quotas for major suppliers in a move that could boost the risk of a multi-front trade war. § US President Donald Trump has signed an executive order ending a US government effort to replace plastic straws with paper. The order, which takes effect immediately, reverses a measure signed by former President Joe Biden, who had called plastic pollution a "crisis". § Two Venezuelan planes returned home Monday with about 190 Venezuelans deported from the United States, signaling a possible thaw in relations between two longtime diplomatic adversaries and a victory for President Donald Trump in his efforts to get more countries to take their people back. § Former Colombian President Álvaro Uribe on Monday denied charges of bribery and witness tampering as he made his opening statement in the first criminal trial of a former president in the country’s history. Speaking to a judge in the capital, Bogota, Uribe said that he would prove that the charges against him “are politically motivated.” § The vast majority of governments are likely to miss a looming deadline to file vital plans that will determine whether or not the world has a chance of avoiding the worst ravages of climate breakdown. Despite the urgency of the crisis, the UN is relatively relaxed at the prospect of the missed date. Officials are urging countries instead to take time to work harder on their targets to cut greenhouse gas emissions and divest from fossil fuels. § Police in Austria have issued a European arrest warrant for a woman they believe posed as a shaman to defraud victims out of large sums of money. Police said they discovered cash, jewellery and gold worth over 10m euros (£8.3 million) at the woman's house in Mödling, near Vienna. They said the suspect is a 44-year-old Austrian citizen named only as Mariana M, who went by the name Amela. @0506z “Newsday” begins. 100' (30m) of Kev-Flex wire feeding "Magic Wand" antenna hanging in backyard tree w/MFJ-1020C active antenna (used as a preamplifier/preselector), JRC NRD-535D, 250kW, beamAz 115°, bearing 103°. Received at Plymouth, MN, United States, 9763KM from transmitter at Ascension Island. Local time: 2258.

[apexart-journal]

Fan Chon Hoo in New York, #Day 4

Day 4. The day began with a volunteer event to beautify 132 St Block Association Park. I had a bit of trouble trying to locate the garden, and as I finally showed up at the garden, the person in charge/head volunteer—Aubrey—told me there was some miscommunication; the event was supposed to be tomorrow on a Saturday, not on a Friday. Aubrey decided that we’ll do some composting anyway. We received a pair of gloves and hedge shears for myself and another college student, Jori, and began trimming down some plants to prepare the garden for winter. Once we collected enough fresh green clipping for the composting, we moved on to raking the dried leaves (brown material). I also helped to sharpen some of the tools with sandpaper. Next, they assigned me the task of mulching the dried leaves. Finally, we gathered enough brown and green parts for composting. It was a good four-hour workout, and Aubrey was patient, and I could feel his passion for creating a nice garden for the community. The yellowing Japanese maple tree against the sun looked stunning, and I missed the smell of moist earth. I think it is nice to have a patch of green garden to labour over. If the garden is open for public use, I would love to visit it again before I leave.

The second activity was to attend the screening of the documentary "Jazz in China" by Dr. Eugene Marlow at the CUNY Graduate Center. From the program synopsis, “The documentary chronicles the 100-year story of how jazz—a democratic form of music through improvisation—exists and thrives in China—a country with a long tradition of adherence to central authority.” The hour-long documentary tries to timestamp jazz development through important historical happenings in China: political division in the 1930s, WWII, cultural revolution in the 1960s, the passing of Chairman Mao in 1976, and contemporary China today. I think it is a rather simplistic way of trying to drive home the point about jazz being a western cultural product that was embraced by some Chinese musicians, suppressed during the cultural revolution, and now being revived and celebrated by the growing middle population in China. According to my basic understanding of jazz as a music genre, it was once considered a transgressive and political medium, similar to how certain Indonesian dangdut music can be perceived as political. Despite jazz being a century-old music genre with numerous subgenres emerging over time, the director's intended focus on a specific type of jazz was not clearly defined. I wanted to learn how the Chinese have adopted jazz and how jazz has influenced modern musicians. Almost at the end of the program, I was happy to meet Favour Ritaro, a Nigerian curator who now resides in NYC, and her friend Buyana. It was a shame they couldn’t make it on time. We had a brief chat before we left the venue.

The last activity on my calendar was interesting. I was supposed to watch a YouTube clip called GUTFELD!, a conservative Fox News show hosted by Greg Gutfeld. The link didn’t work, but I managed to watch one of the latest episodes called “Well, this is downright shocking," an episode to basically commemorate the winning of Donald Trump as the newly elected President. The episode featured a plethora of irrational remarks about physical appearances, constant references to body parts and faeces, and occasional biblical allusions, primarily aimed at ridiculing politicians, celebrities, TV hosts, and other individuals who publicly support democratic artists. Although my knowledge of American politics is limited, and I lack the necessary context or references to fully comprehend the show's content, I find it shocking to learn about the comments made on news channels. The show's statements, such as "We decided as a country to move forward today; that means no more blaming the people today for the misdeeds of their ancestors" and "I get up the next day and I get dressed like I always do, by a team of Slovakian migrants," are truly mind-blowing. I don't think this can happen on Malaysian news channels. Prior to this, my YouTube algorithm had been recommending clips from shows such as Jimmy Kimmel, Jimmy Fallon, Stephen Colbert, and John Oliver, which primarily featured liberal content. These shows also poked fun at conservatives, albeit with a less personal or vulgar tone. To learn about political news through TV talk show hosts/personalities, conservative or otherwise, is new to me, as is the influence and power given to these individuals. It is refreshing to try to see it from the other side, and I guess my YouTube algorithm might start to feed me with more pro-conservative content.