#one fall power factory

[shhhsoftnwet]

Sometimes all a bad bitch want is a silly little short king 👹❤️‍🔥

[thethief1996]

I can't stop thinking about the news out of Palestine. Israel is sieging al Shifa hospital. Videos of people's limbs being severed off are haunting (graphic video tw). The hospital has ran out of fuel and 39 babies in incubators are fending for their lives by themselves, because Israel has stationed snipers around the hospital and is shooting all medical crew that walks into their sight.

First, the narrative was Israel would never bomb hospitals. Now, the hospitals are Hamas bases. Then, we respect journalists. Now, we have a fucking kill list of journalists because they are Hamas collaborators. First, we are not letting fuel in until the hostages are released. Now, we are not accepting the hostages back because that would stop our ground invasion and let Hamas win. And I could go on about every single lie they're making up. If you look up "Hamas rape" on google, the first link leads to Times of Israel saying Israel has found no forensic evidence of sexual violence, and only one eyewitness testimony out of 3.5k people attending the rave. If you Google "Hamas beheaded babies" the top links say they have no evidence for the claim besides word of mouth from extremist soldiers. Israeli extremists think about the ugliest goriest scene they can make out in their sick heads, tell that to a international journalist and they run away with it like it's gospel.

And children are being killed in the name of these lies. Thousands are being displaced in images that remind me of the pictures of Tantura 75 years ago, with their hands up so the tanks don't shoot them. Amputees are leaving the hospitals in wheelchairs hours after their surgeries because they are being shot at. Elders who survived the Nakba on 48 are having to walk towards Southern Gaza on foot (imagine walking from one end of your city to the other on foot), displaced again. People are cheering for the haunting images of white phosphorus bombs being dropped over Gaza. Gazan workers who were arrested in the West Bank are being thrust back into the bombings wearing numbered labels.

This is not normal. We are seeing the early stages of the settler colonial genocide of an indigenous population. Native leaders who have visited Gaza say its refugee camps look eerily like reservations. We can stop this. For the first time we are able to see wide scale accounts from the hands of the people suffering the genocide, and Israel is so scared of it they have cut all communications in Gaza.

This is our litmus test. I think we have never seen more clearly, with Palestine, Armenia, Congo and Sudan how colonialism has made our world a rotten place to live in.

The South African apartheid collapsed due to boycotts. We have to do everything in our power to stop Israel's hegemony. Even talking to a group of friends about Palestine changes the status quo. There's no world where we can live peacefully if Israel accomplishes their goals.

Keep yourself updated and share Palestinian voices. Muna El-Kurd said every tweet is like a treasure to them, because their voices are repressed on social media and even on this very app. Make it your action item to share something about the Palestinian plight everyday. Here are some resources:

Al Jazeera, Anadolu Agency, Mondoweiss

Boycott Divest Sanction Movement

Palestinian Youth Movement is organizing protests and direct action against weapons factories across the US

Mohammed El-Kurd (twitter / instagram)

Muhammad Shehada (twitter)

Motaz Azaiza (instagram) - reporting directly from Gaza.

Hind Khudary - reporting directly from Gaza. Her husband and daughter moved South to run from the tanks but she stayed behind to record the genocide. The least we can do is not let her calls fall on deaf ears.

You can participate in boycotts wherever you are in the world, through BDS guidelines. Don't be overwhelmed by gigantic boycott lists. BDS explicitly targets only a few brands which have bigger impact. You can stop consuming from as many brands as you want, though, and by all means feel free to give a 1 star review to McDonalds, Papa John, Pizza Hut, Burger King and Starbucks. Right now, they are focusing on boycotting the following:

Carrefour, HP, Puma, Sabra, Sodastream, Ahava cosmetics, Israeli fruits and vegetables

Push for a cultural boycott - pressure your favorite artist to speak out on Palestine and cancel any upcoming performances on occupied territory (Lorde cancelled her gig in Israel because of this. It works.)

If you can, participate in direct action or donate.

Palestine Action works to shut down Israeli weapons factories in the UK and USA, and have successfully shut down one of their firms in London.Some of the activists are going on trial and are calling for mobilizing on court.

Palestinian Youth Movement is organizing direct actions to stop the shipping of wars to Israel. Follow them.

Educate yourself. Read into Palestinian history and the occupation. You can't common sense people out of decades of propaganda. If your arguments crumble when a zionist brings up the "disengagement of Gaza", you have to learn more.

Read Decolonize Palestine. They have 15 minute reads that concisely explain the occupation (and its colonial roots) and debunk popular myths, including pinkwashing.

Read on Palestine. Here's an amazing masterpost.

Verso Book Club is giving out free books on Palestine (I personally downloaded Ten Myths about Israel by Ilan Pappe. If you still believe in the two states solution, this book by an Israeli professor debunks it).

Call your representatives. The Labour Party in the UK had an emergency meeting after several councilors threatened to resign if they didn't condemn Israeli war crimes. Calling to show your complaints works, even more if you live in a country that funds genocide.

FOR PEOPLE IN THE USA: USCPR has developed this toolkit for calls, here's a document that autosends emails to your representatives and here's a toolkit by Ceasefire in Gaza NOW!

FOR PEOPLE IN EUROPE: Here's a toolkit by Voices in Europe for Peace targeting the European Parliament and one specific for almost all countries in Europe, including Germany, Ireland, Poland, Denmark, Sweden, Netherlands, Greece, Norway, Italy, Portugal, Spain, Finland, Austria, Belgium Romania and Ukraine

FOR PEOPLE IN THE UK: Friends of Al-Aqsa UK and Palestine Solidarity UK have made toolkits for calls and emails

FOR PEOPLE IN AUSTRALIA: Here's a toolkit by Stand With Palestine

FOR PEOPLE IN CANADA: Here's a toolkit by Indepent Jewish Voices for Canada

Join a protest. Here's a constantly updating list of protests:

Global calendar

Another global calendar (go to the instragram of the organizers to confirm your protest)

USA calendar

Australia calendar

Feel free to add more.

[cathkaesque]

Relentless direct action has secured another victory in the fight against Israel’s arms trade, as Elbit Systems are forced to sell their ‘Elite KL’ factory in Tamworth.

The company had previously manufactured cooling and power management systems for military vehicles, but was sold on after stating that it faced falling profits and increased security costs resulting from Palestine Action’s efforts. 

After the sale was completed last month, Elite KL’s new owners, listed as Griffin Newco Ltd, confirmed in an email to Palestine Action that they will have nothing to do with the previous owners, Elbit, and have discontinued any arms manufacturing:

“Following the recent acquisition of Elite KL Limited by a UK investment syndicate, the newly appointed board has unanimously agreed to withdraw from all future defence contracts and terminate its association with its former parent company”.

This victory is a direct result of sustained direct action which has sought, throughout Palestine Action’s existence, to make it impossible for Elbit to afford to operate in Britain. Before they sold the enterprise to a private equity syndicate, Elbit had reported that Elite KL operating profits had been slashed by over three-quarters, with Palestine Action responsible: Elbit directly cited the increased expenditure on security they’d been forced to make, and higher supply chain costs they faced.

And these actions did, indeed, cost them. The first action at the site, in November 2020, saw Elite KL’s premises smashed into, the building covered in blood-red paint. Between March and July 2021, the site was put out of action three times by roof-top occupations – drenched red in March 2021, with the factory’s camera systems dismantled, before again being occupied in in May. Another roof-top occupation in July, despite increased security, saw the site forced closed – once again painted blood-red, and with its windows and fixings smashed through.

In February 2022, activists decommissioned the site for weeks – closed off after an occupation that saw over £250,000 of damages caused, the roof tiles removed one-by-one. After this, Elbit erected a security perimeter around the site – but to no avail. One month later, six were arrested after Palestine Action returned to Tamworth – again taking the roof and smashing through, preventing the production of parts for Israel’s military machine.

Elite KL is a ‘specialist thermal management business’. Since the sale, the company focuses on cooling systems for buses and trains, but it had, under Elbit, manufactured these systems for military vehicles. Until December of last year, Elite KL’s website was advertising its military and defence products, and it was known to provide parts for Israel’s deadly Merkava tanks, with export license records demonstrating its provision of ‘ML6a’ components for military ground vehicles to Israel. The company was also known to manufacture crew cooling systems, for the military vests of tank operators.

Elbit Systems itself provides 85% of the drones and land-based military equipment for the Israeli military, along with a wide range of the munitions and armaments currently being used against Gaza’s beseiged population. Its CEO, Bazhalel Machlis, has claimed that the Israeli military has offered the company its thanks for their “crucial” services during the ongoing genocide in Gaza

A Palestine Action spokesperson has stated:

“Each activist who occupied and dismantled Tamworth’s Israeli weapons factory did so in order to bring an end to Israel’s weapons trade, and to end the profiteering from Palestinian repression. Every defeat Elbit faces is a victory for the Palestinian people.

Kicking Elbit out of Tamworth shows once again that direct action is a necessary tactic. It is one which must be utilised and amplified in the face of the Gaza genocide.”

[keferon]

I just want this fic to be here too👍 Part 1? Eh

_____________

“He's stalking his celebrity crush.”

“That's not stalking!” resents Swerve ”I'm just worried.”

Rewind makes a gesture that looks vaguely apologetic and looks at Tailgate again.

“Watching. He's watching his superhero celebrity crush who's a member of the Wreckers. And so far no one's survived long in the Wreckers, so he's shaking on every notification like a crazy mom.”

Tailgate tries to peer sideways into Swerve's phone

“That sounds stressful. Is that him? Is he dying?”

_____________

Blurr/Swerve, Superhero au, fic under the cut⤵️ Heavily inspired/based on this post

Blurr doesn't think life and death is something he can control.

He's about 99.99999% sure.

The remaining microscopic fraction of that idiotic statistic is held in place by one small but important factor that Blurr can't explain and isn't sure he even wants to explain. It's like the dream logic. The moment you realize exactly how things work is also the moment you wake up to realize it.

The very nuance understanding which destroys all magic or reveals the fact that magic never existed.

That nuance?

Blurr can't die.

And it's certainly not because he's not trying hard enough.

That last one sounds a little radical. But he has a history. His team has a history.

“Wreckers is a pretty peculiar collection of superheroes. It's easy to get into and even easier to get out of (usually feet first and in a bag). No other hero organization loses so many people so often. No other hero organization can also handle the level of threats that the Wreckers eliminate.

Their fans affectionately refer to them as the Suicide Squad. There is...a lot of black humor among the Wreckers fanbase and Blurr doesn't condemn it. Not after having to memorize new names and faces of teammates every six months.

The thing is.

He probably should have been dead a long time ago. A lot. A lot of “that was close” ago.

Just two days after joining the Wreckers, he found himself in the middle of an absolutely monstrous fire and miraculously escaped death by getting away just moments before the entire building collapsed on his head.

Only a week after that, he gets shot. Fifteen times.

And. Look.

Blurr is fast! Being fast is kind of his main thing as a speedster. He did the only logical thing and made an honest effort to dodge, but three of those fifteen bullets still ended up inside him and only miraculously didn't hit anything that couldn't be repaired.

Half a year later, a car falls on him.

Another month - some freaking supervillain decides to infect an entire country with a homemade super lethal virus and guess who becomes the only victim.

At least once a month, various psychopaths try to break his legs.

At least once every half a year he ends up being the one who “heroically saved all the hostages but didn't have time to save himself”.

It's like an endless stream of negative karma.

It's really amazing how such a small piece of civilization like Iacon can contain so many disasters. Even more amazing perhaps is how people manage to survive through all this neat smoothie of misery and violence.

Earthquakes, villains, villains, more villains, terrorists, natural disasters, monsters from outer space, and it all comes out of nowhere and it all takes a hundred percent effort to pack Blurr in a coffin.

Blurr... doesn't know why he's still alive.

He honestly has no idea how he's doing it. He may get into life-and-death situations more often than he does haircuts but every time things come within an inch of killing him. It's impossible luck. Statistically improbable chance. One-in-a-thousand odds. A fucking lightning caught in a bottle, but it happens so often it's like someone somewhere in heaven decided to open a bottled lightning factory and then reward Blurr with the title of their honorary loyal customer.

Blurr doesn't think he has power over life and death.

But here's the thing.

On some particularly violent nights, he wonders that maybe...

---------------

Sometimes Swerve thinks being a dedicated fan should be on the list of “unhealthy” high-paying jobs. One of those where they give you extra cash for the fact that you even bother to show up and then give you insurance and paid vacations.

Okay, that last one might be a bit of an overkill, but it would be nice if he at least had an endless supply of sedatives.

At least some chamomile. Preferably not from the sidewalk. He's not picky.

See, their world decided to change the rules of existence not too long ago and turned such a trivial thing as “trust” into a new in-game currency.

Simply put. If enough people believe something, it becomes true.

What has society chosen to do with that? Of course create an absolutely insane cult of celebrity worship, essentially giving a bunch of already rich and beautiful people superpowers as well.

As if they weren't already living luxuriously enough!

Swerve is not jealous. Certainly not. His first thought when he found out about the new “rules” was definitely not to tell everyone he knows that he won a million dollars and wait for the power of belief to make it true.

He surely wasn't trying to do that. Anyone who claims otherwise is either a liar or their name starts with a T and ends with Gate.

Speaking of.....

Tailgate scratches the back of his head puzzled.

“So you didn't actually win a million dollars?”

They are sitting in a small cafe, the name of which Swerve has honestly forgotten. Or rather he never memorized it, because the local owner of the place prefers to hang huge posters with superheroes right above the name. Swerve is a rather controllable customer.....

Rewind, sitting at the same cheap plastic table as them, hums.

“And here I was trying to figure out if your holey slippers were a cry for help or one of those crazy expensive 'fancy' designs.”

“Ha. ha.” says Swerve slowly and deliberately unhappily “If I get rich one day, I won't tell any of you.”

He slowly takes a sip of some obscure looking substance that Rewind ordered for them all as an experiment and turns to Tailgate.

“Look, it's a pretty fun system. Things that people believe in strongly enough - become real. So if uh, if uh, if we as a whole country believe that our government is honest - that will, in theory, make it honest. Or if a hundred thousand people genuinely believe you can fly, you will be able to fly. That's how it works now.”

Tailgate stares at him. With very large, puzzled eyes.

Swerve tries not to laugh too hard. Poor Tailgate had once gone off to explore the caves and somehow, by some incredible means, managed to get lost and stuck in them for two whole months. Then he crawled out and discovered that magic had appeared in the world while he was gone. Swerve thinks that if he were Tailgate, he'd look very stupid too, trying to realize the absurdity of the situation.

Tailgate is toying with his curled straw.

“So is the government honest now?”

Rewind makes a loud “snrk” noise into his cup.

Swerve chuckles. Not as “funny” haha but more like “we fucked it all up” haha.

It shouldn't be possible to fit all the sense of doom from the world's level of damnation into one expression, but he confidently goes for it.

“GOD NO, did you ever believe that government could be honest?”

“Well...now that's just sad...” decides Tailgate ‘Something good was supposed to come out of this, right?”

Rewind raises a finger victoriously.

“Oh! There are no more incurable diseases! The placebo effect is the new big thing now that a bunch of people have gotten the ability to cure any illness at the snap of their fingers.”

Swerve nods, dangling his drink in his hands.

“There was a guy who claimed he had magic hands that cured everything and gathered a crowd of fanatical admirers around him. So...now his hands are really magic because his followers believe it. Crazy stuff...”

Tailgate puts his elbows on the table, propping his head up with his hands.

“So if I tell everyone I won a million dollars.....”

“I recommend--” Rewind waves his cup “...first make sure you're not wearing holey slippers.”

“Аh”

“That, and you'll need at least about a million people loving and supporting you wholeheartedly if you want this to work.”

“That's...a lot of people,” Tailgate groans.

Swerve shrugs

“That's why all the really cool stuff only goes to celebrities.”

_____

Tailgate cranes his neck curiously.

“Hey Swerve, while you went to place your order your phone started buzzing.”

Swerve falls back into his seat as fast as if he'd just decided the entire floor was lava and starts scrolling through notifications, cursing at spam and useless newsletters.

“When??”

“Just a couple minutes ago” shrugs Tailgate ”Are you expecting someone?”

“I'M...OH NO NO I'M JUST. Shit, wait a minute.”

Rewind leans over to Tailgate and smiles deviously, not even trying to pretend to whisper.

“He's stalking his celebrity crush.”

“That's not stalking!” resents Swerve ”I'm just worried.”

Rewind makes a gesture that looks vaguely apologetic and looks at Tailgate again.

“' Watching. He's watching his superhero celebrity crush who's a member of the Wreckers. And so far no one's survived long in the Wreckers, so he's shaking on every notification like a crazy mom.”

Tailgate tries to peer sideways into Swerve's phone

“That sounds stressful. Is that him? Is he dying?”

Swerve slides down the back of his chair slightly and tilts the phone toward Tailgate

“No, it's not him. He's the one in the blue suit on the left. And no, he's not dying. That bastard is impossible to kill.”

Tailgate lets out an understanding “ooh.”

“Although,” Swerve admits, “ Following him was a lot easier when he was driving cars instead of saving the world.”

He's been a Blurr fan for so long that it can probably be put on his resume already. He remembers watching the Iacon 5000 race with friends with Rewind starting to joke about how they should all bet on someone brand new this year. To fuel the fun, they sat down to pick candidates to bet on based solely on the color of their cars.

Swerve then poked his finger at a random bright blue car and said he'd bet on it because “blue is a fast color.”

Later, his friends would joke more than once that Swerve had the gift of prophecy that day. Because blue wasn't just fast. Oh, God. No. Blue turned out to be the absolute leader, dominating the race track from start to finish.

Swerve remembers vividly the first time he looked at a racer getting out of that car and thought “who the hell is that” and then immediately “how do I find his socials”.

The answer to the second question came quickly. The answer to the first...well. The guy, Blurr, soon turned out to be a faceless celebrity. Shining at numerous races, but never showing his face. Swerve highly doubts it's due to shyness, given...some character traits. (Swerve has a running theory, which is that ...Blurr has no shame. Even as a concept.) Probably just to keep his life anonymous and quiet, he believes.

It's understandable.

He's not judging. But he has to admit that a billion fanarts on what a face under a racing helmet could look like in theory...really...fuels his fantasy.

He's a very normal and sane fan. He tries very hard to be a normal fan and he's doing a great job at it. Maybe except for those moments when Blurr gets into another car accident. Lots of them. Lots and lots of bloody accidents actually and Swerve at first catches a micro heart attack every time he sees the news, but eventually he gets used to it. Blurr is incredibly resilient. And just as rich as well.

Swerve is used to hearing updates about another incident and then seeing Blurr back in the race a couple months later. Just as energetic, carefree, and frankly . Really handsome. As if nothing had happened. As if any danger would just bounce off him without leaving a dent.

It was familiar. It was habitual.

Until, of course, the universe started handing out faith magic to people. Until Blurr walked up to this imaginary box of lottery numbers and pulled out a ball that said “congratulations you're lucky now go and fucking die.”

Blurr is a racer. A damn good racer. Incredibly popular too. Of course his many fans who adore him beyond measure gave him a superpower.

Of course that power was speed.

Of course.

Blue is the color of speed. What else.

As a racer, Blurr is undefeatable.

As a superhero, ..

Swerve still thinks this guy is impossible to kill, but that doesn't mean he doesn't get worried every time he sees the news headlines and live feeds.

“You're alive” Springer states ”Literally how are you still alive?”

Blurr tilts his head because it's the only part of his body he can still move while trapped under ten tons of mangled steel from a Decepticon flying base falling out of the sky.

“Hello to you, too.”

Springer tentatively pulls the nearest sheet of metal and hums in satisfaction when he feels the structure is stable enough.

“Bleeding? Fractures?”

“I think my hair's ruined.”

“No one can even see your hair.”

“Doesn't mean I shouldn't care about it,” snorts Blurr

Springer tosses aside another piece of metal and reaches for his earpiece

“Smoke...? Nah...no really.....REALLY. ....No, you're not going to believe this. ......Aha, digging him out.” he looks away from the earpiece and leans over Blurr ‘Smokescreen wanted me to tell you that he's impressed and,... I quote ’personally saw that damn wagon fall right on your head'. He also wants to know if he needs to shoo away the paparazzi.”

Blurr tries to shrug but remembers in time that it's best not to fidget too much.

“Tell him I'll need a new suit. Let him keep everyone, I'm fine.”

“Literally...like...” barely audibly mutters Springer. “Like.h ow..”

Blurr smiles “My guardian angel is working overtime.”

Swerve takes a deep, nervous exhale, unhooking his fingers from the phone on which he's watching the live feed. Ah shit. Okay. Okay. Alive. Fine.

Rewind looks over his shoulder.

“Looking out for your pookie?”

“HE'S NOT MY

__________

Smokescreen stops right in the middle of an inspired argument with the advertisement agent when his side vision registers a flash of blue to the right of the entirely destroyed street.

“Blurr??”

“Oh, hey!” waves Blurr, “'Sup Smoke?”

The crumbled asphalt beneath his feet crunches softly. Just a few minutes ago, this street was a complete mayhem....

Smokescreen waves the clipboard in his direction

“I thought you had your head ripped off, you suicidal son of a bitch! Do you know how hard it was to calm your hysterical fans down??”

Blurr knows no one can see his face but rolls his eyes anyway. Almost immediately his brain tells him that this was a bad idea, sending a whole bunch of black spots in front of his eyes.

“Hey, you're getting paid for th...ugh...this.”

Blurr doesn't elaborate on the fact that he was sure he was going to be left headless today as well. One of the Overlord's freaking monster minions grabbed him and for a split second Blurr could swear he heard his own neck crunch.

He tries not to think about it.

The more he thinks about it, the less sense it will make.

The more he analyzes, the louder becomes the voice in the far corner of his head saying he should have been dead a long time ago.

A week ago when an entire air base fell on him. Three weeks ago during the battle with Menasor that practically broke his spine. Even earlier, when he was so busy evacuating hospital staff that he ended up being the only one present when that hospital exploded.

He's afraid that if he starts looking into the causes, this magical effect..this life-saving placebo will disappear.

He's convinced it's a placebo. It's the way this world works.

Someone out there must be doing some complex mental magic, keeping him more or less alive and whole and...Blurr is probably going a little crazy. Probably.

Maybe one of those many blows got him harder than he thought. Maybe it's his own self-confidence manifesting miracles of salvation one after another.

(It actually...doesn't sound that unbelievable. Blurr has a lot of belief in himself. Many people would say even too much. The question is whether it counts.)

(He prefers to think it counts.)

__________

Swerve sees red. Lots of it. LOTS of red.

More than he ever wanted to see in his life.

Uh-oh. That's not good.

His vision is blurring. His head buzzes with a nasty sharp static and his left shoulder hurts like a BITCH.

Above him is the flickering, faltering light of the bulb and below him is a growing puddle of his blood. His hair is wet and sticking to his face, making it hard to focus his already shaky gaze.

He makes an attempt to shift, but all it brings him is an explosion of pain.

Ugh.

Sirens are blaring outside, warning the public to evacuate. He's not really sure he can make out exactly what the sound is announcing. He has memorized all kinds of emergency alerts, but the thought escapes him.

What was it

Oh, yeah.

He's been shot.

He's been shot and he's probably going to die because everyone he knows is either too far away or busy evacuating. He vaguely hopes they'll remember about him.

Maybe only after getting to a safe place, but he'll take even that.

The red around him is getting bigger.

He tries to reach for his phone to...where is his phone? Did he leave it in the kitchen? He probably did. Swerve seemed to have no time to grab it when the entire building shook and ugly semi-mechanical monsters fell from the sky.

One of these monsters noticed Swerve just moments later and activated something resembling a cannon mounted in his hands. Swerve then looked at the glowing muzzle and thought that firing this thing would probably send his atoms so far away that his dna would be found on the moon. He could stick his hand down that gun barrel. And his hands are far from the smallest and most delicate hands you can find.

Why did this have to happen on a Saturday? Why not a day later or earlier? If it were any other day, Swerve would be at work right now. In a different place, with other people and probably with a much better chance of not being killed like a loser.

Not sure he wouldn't have been shot, but at least someone would have seen this and picked him up off the floor, put him in their pocket and taken him to the rescue.

Ugh.

He realizes that he closed his eyes at some point and hurriedly opens them. His expertise is by no means professional, but he is almost certain that that weapon wasn't ordinary. He has no idea what it means for him. Maybe he needs stitches, painkillers and a kiss and he'll be good as new. Or maybe it's like one of those films where you get hurt by an unknown creature and then you grab the sink in front of the mirror at midnight and watch the veins under your skin move on their own.

He doesn't feel shot, as silly as that sounds. He feels numb. Falling. Farther and farther away.

He is falling and falling as deep as he's ever fallen in his life. Maybe not as far as "got lost in the woods" far. No, more like " a coin dropped behind the fridge" far. It's not really about the distance but more about the feeling that he's never going to get out of here because no one ever looks in here.

He’s falling until the state of falling starts to register as a resting point, because that's the only variable he still feels. This corner he falls into is very deep and dark and dusty.

He doesn't remember to open his eyes again.

___________

Smokescreen sounds frankly hysterical, yelling at Blurr through his earpiece.

“I understand you like to show off, but you can't outrun a freaking tsunami?!?!”

Blurr only speeds up, “Watch."

“You cocky IDIOT this is suicide!”

“Relax Smoke” laughs Blurr ”You say that every time.”

The half-destroyed bridge shakes and sways like a wounded animal as the water from the overrunning sea crashes into it, gouging into the concrete and bending the metal.

The whole scene is...depressing. Water and debris everywhere and damn. This isn't the first time Blurr is witnessing a large-scale attack by the "forces of evil" as the hero agency likes to call them, but looking at the wrecked cars and scattered debris doesn't get any easier with time. Maybe it just hasn't been long enough. Who knows.

Springer doesn't look like he is bothered by it. But Springer also has a lot more experience being a superhero. With his skill at giving out smiles and encouragement in absolutely any situation, not many can compete.

Blurr certainly can't. In fact. He's got a face with subtitles that turn on in almost any stressful situation. Wearing a mask is probably one of the best things he can do to calm down any random civilians waiting for him to save the day. If they can't see him making panicked grimacing eyes, they'll be feeling much better.

A few more seconds and he's on the collapsing bridge. The people stuck on it look hysterical and bruised, but no one seems injured, so it shouldn't be difficult.

Blurr's plan is simple. Get all the people out of the disaster's path. Then get yourself out. Easy.

Easy?

He can pinpoint the exact moment when something goes wrong.

It's the second that a crooked, hideous-looking monster grabs his leg and pulls him underwater. The second when Blurr fights it with all his might and realizes with sudden horror that his strength isn't enough. That he is. Not enough.

His lungs burn, begging him to take a breath and he doesn't even know which way is the surface because all there is around him is the dark, black, cold pressure of water. It's clinging to him, seeping through his suit, his hair, burning his eyes and making his fingers go numb. It's pulling him somewhere, and he's obeying whether he wants to or not.

His spine prickles with panic.

His personal miracle. His damn magic or guardian angel or cursed luck or whatever the hell it was called. That thing that was always there to catch him like in that game of trust fall. He'd gotten so used to it's presence, he began to take it for granted.

Like the air you trust to be there every time you need to take your next breath.

And right now?

It's not here.

His body takes a convulsive breath and finds nothing but water.

[on-the-clear-blue]

I know I usually ship one of the Bat kids with Danny but...what about the elder generation?

Danny gets sent back in time by Clockwork to WW2, working with the Allies to stop the Axis from using Ghost artifacts to further their goals.

It's a long term mission, meaning that he is spending months if not a few years in the 1940s, and who might you think is his Ally handlers? One Mathew Kane and one 'Fred' Pennyworth, all three of them work with a civilian doctor that volunteered for the war effort, one 'Tom' Wanye.

Or, Danny unknowingly falls for his handlers while using his ghost powers to he the perfect spy, Martha cross dressed and lied to get into the army to help with the war effort because her family is Jewish and like hell is she going to just sit in a factory, she is going to kill Nazis, Thomas was flat footed and had poor health so he was refused by the draft, so volunteered to be a spy doctor instead.

And Alfred is suffering because the yank "Mathew" always jumps the gun but somehow makes everything end up alright, Thomas is utterly reckless and if he hadn't saved their lives so many times he would be off the team, and Danny because he distrusts the man's magic, it just ain't right.

[startears0153]

☾ Seeing you cry in your sleep

How they react to finding you crying silently in your sleep.

☾ Characters: Argenti, Blade, Dan Heng, Dr. Ratio

☾ Tags/Warnings: Hurt/Comfort, Angst, GN Reader, StellaronHunter!Reader in Blade's, Ratio (affectionately) calling you fool in his part

Might write a 2nd part with Gepard, Jing Yuan, Welt and Luocha (and maybe Sampo) in the future :)

Argenti

Upon entering your shared cottage, Argenti finds you sleeping on the chair by the window. They must’ve fallen asleep while admiring the scenery of the falling snow outside, Argenti thought with a fond smile. 

For a moment, Argenti found himself unable to move, for his emerald colored eyes were transfixed upon the serene beauty of the scene before him. The falling snow, the white winter wonderland serving as the perfect backdrop to accentuate the beauty of your resting figure.

Still, he realized it probably wouldn’t do well if you were to fall sick from the cold. So, he quietly made his way through the room and draped a blanket over your figure. 

That was when he noticed the presence of tears on the corners of your eyes. 

For a while, Argenti thought his eyes were deceiving him. It wasn’t until he saw a lone tear fall from your eye that he was finally hit by the fact that you were, indeed, crying in your sleep. 

His heart ached upon the sight and he instinctively reached to cup your cheek; his thumb gently caressing the corner of your eye, wiping away the stream of tears that began to fall like tender snow. 

After some deliberation on how to proceed, Argenti would kneel before your sleeping figure before carefully stirring you awake with a gentle squeeze to your hand and softly calling out your name. 

“Good morning my dear,” He would greet you with a tender smile, though you could easily sense the twinge of sadness and melancholia lingering in his voice. “I apologize if this may sound unpleasant to you but … you were crying in your sleep. Is … Is everything alright?” 

He would fret over you, but he would try to keep it to a minimum lest he were to accidentally do more harm than good. He was obviously worried about what ailed you, but again, what mattered most to him was your comfort. 

Regardless of whether you choose to speak of the reason for your tears, Argenti would remain by your side, kneeling before you as he held your hand in his. 

If he could, he would do anything in his power to vanquish the reason behind your tears. He never wants you to shed tears, neither in sleep or wake, ever again.

Blade

It was almost time for the opening act of Elio’s Script. Blade comes to searches for you in the meeting spot, and finds you asleep above one of the many wooden crates of the abandoned factory. 

How carefree, Blade thought with a scoff. Even so, Blade’s heart blossoms with warmth, that very same warmth that is born from his affection and adoration for you and all your silly antics. 

If he could, he would let you rest for longer and perhaps even join you in your restful slumber, resting your head on his shoulder. But alas, the Script takes priority and it was almost time to begin. 

So he reaches to shake your shoulder … but then froze upon the sight of tears falling from your eyes. 

Blade has never been one for tears. In a different life, perhaps, he would have been. But tears have no meaning for Blade. Crying does not provide one with salvation, no matter how much one cries, what was lost could never return. 

And yet, the sight of your tears shook him to his core. 

Blade didn’t know what to do. What could he do anyway? Reach for your face and wipe away your tears with his thumb? Lean towards you and kiss the corners of your eyes, all in hopes for your tears to stop cascading from your eyes? How ridiculous. As though that would solve any of your problems. 

So, he does what he is supposed to. Grab your shoulder and gently shake you awake. 

“Wake up. It’s almost time to begin.” He says brusquely, already turning around for his back to face you. “Wipe your tears. Don’t let the enemy see even a single hint of weakness.” 

You would be shocked upon realizing you were crying in your sleep and hurriedly wiped away the remains of your tears. Not soon after, you join him by the ledge of the building, watching over the city with puffy eyes. Blade would steal a glance at you and then he would say, 

“Do not be hasty. I am with you.”

You didn’t need to try hard to know that he wasn’t just talking about the battle ahead.

Dan Heng

The hour was late when Den Heng jolted awake from his sleep. He dreamt of a vague memory of his past incarnation and saw a nightmare where his friends were swept away by the waves; of you disappearing in the dark sea of clouds. 

Inhaling and exhaling slowly, Dan Heng takes a moment to recompose himself before shifting to rest on his side, thus meeting the familiar sight of your back. They’re here, Dan Heng thought to himself, breathing a quiet sigh of relief. It’s all just a dream. 

Not wanting to wake you, Dan Heng simply stares at your back. The steadiness of your breathing, a reminder that you are alive. Gingerly, Dan Heng reaches to subtly trace soothing lines on your back. Truth be told, it was probably more soothing for him than you. 

Then suddenly, there was a slight change in the pattern of your breathing. More feeble and erratic. Concerned that he might have woken you up, Dan Heng pushed himself up to check on your condition … 

… Only to find you crying in your sleep. 

Upon the sight of your tears, falling so steadily onto the fabric of your already damp pillow, Dan Heng’s breath hitches. He shakes your shoulders, calling your name again and again until your eyes open and meet his pairs of jaded blue. 

“You’re crying.” He said bluntly, his brows furrowed as a tell-tale sign of his bleeding concern for you. “What? No, I’m fine. Yes, I woke up because of a nightmare but I’m more concerned for you.” 

The two of you would both end up sitting on the bed, both fretting over each other’s condition. You asked Dan Heng about his nightmare and he would reply that it was the usual. He asked you about your tears, and you replied you didn’t even know you were crying until Dan Heng pointed it out. 

In the end, the both of you would end up embracing each other tightly, providing both comfort and strength to one another. You both wind up laying on the bed in each other’s arms. 

Dan Heng would stay awake for a while after you’ve fallen asleep, gazing at your resting figure in hopes that he would never have to see you cry in your sleep once more.  

Dr. Ratio

After a long day full of shameful displays of stupidity from the people around him, Dr. Veritas Ratio was done for the day and is free to visit his beloved. I cannot wait to see them, Ratio thought as he made large strides towards your office. It has been far too long since I’ve had an intellectually stimulating conversation!

He thinks of all the topics he could talk with you, ranging from the most mundane things such as how each other’s days went and the more complex like the discourse regarding a recent hot theory. 

Imagine his disappointment when he enters your office and finds you dead asleep on your desk. 

Frowning, Ratio rationalizes that you were probably just as exhausted as he was and that there were plenty of chances for conversation when the two of you have rested up. Still. He was disappointed. 

He walked towards your desk and took a moment to observe your resting figure. You were sleeping above your paper reports. Now that’s a lark. But then, he noticed something else. 

Your papers were soaked, all from the tears that were still cascading from your eyes. 

Upon the sight of your tears, Ratio’s heart seemingly ceased to beat. There was shock, confusion, concern and all these strong emotions that meld with one another. In a rare moment of panic, Ratio shook you awake, forcing you away from your stained papers. 

“You fool, just what do you think you’re doing?!” He shouts, worry bleeding through his tone. “Don’t ‘What the hell, Veritas’ me! You’re the one crying on your reports and making them unreadable!” 

You would be confused until you realize that you were crying in your sleep. You touched the lingering wetness on your cheeks and laughed feebly. It was probably the pent up stress, you offered weakly, annoying Ratio once more. 

You expect a lecture, but unexpectedly, Ratio places hand behind your head, brings you to rest against his broad shoulder. 

“You are a fool for ruining those reports. If you must cry … cry on my shoulder instead.” 

It was a silly attempt at cheering you up, but you appreciated it all the same. 

Hehe this was a super fun prompt to write! Might write a second part with Gepard, Jing Yuan, Welt and Luocha when I feel the inspiration hitting me 👀

Also still semi-working on banners ... sigh, lets hope I find a good theme soon enough.

Thank you for reading 💖

[formulafanfics13]

hey lovely! are you up for a somewhat crackfic?? Reader is new driver on the grid, super talented and confident all smirks n flirty knows how to play the media. everyone is falling head over heels shooting their shot but she knowingly smiles n says she wont date someone on grid. then a leaked photo reveals her with a man! entire grid media evn Tps r dying with curiosity. thennnn she brings her man to the paddock(spoiler alert: its a retired driver)

okay you gave me an idea and i ran with it...

The Fastest Girl Alive

Masterlist

Summary: You’re the 21-year-old Red Bull phenom taking Formula 1 by storm — a media magnet, a threat to the grid, and completely untouchable. Until a leaked photo shatters your image and reveals your secret two-year relationship with none other than 45-year-old Kimi Räikkönen. Cue absolute chaos. From panicked team principals to feral drivers and Christian Horner’s nervous breakdown, the paddock loses its mind as you and Kimi go fully public, smug and unbothered.

Warnings: Age-gap relationship (21/45), public scrutiny, suggestive language, chaotic paddock dynamics, emotionally mature themes, sexual innuendo, power imbalance commentary, light media satire.

From the moment you stepped onto the grid, you were a problem.

Twenty-one. Deadly. Irresistibly hot. Red Bull's first female driver. Max Verstappen's new teammate. A factory-suited menace with perfect winged liner and a habit of unzipping your race suit down to the waist just to piss off the sponsors.

The media called you a prodigy. The grid called you dangerous.

And you? You just smiled and kept winning.

From Bahrain to Baku, you'd rattled the entire sport. Fourth on debut. Podium in your second race. A pole in Monaco that had Christian Horner clapping like a trained seal in the garage while Max stared at the timing screen like it had personally betrayed him.

But it wasn't just the driving.

It was the interviews. The smirks. The catwalk walks through the paddock in miniskirts and sunglasses, licking an ice pop while pretending not to hear Logan calling your name. It was the way you sat in the media pen like a popstar, legs crossed, chewing gum, answering every question with a wink or a threat.

"You've been a real disruptor this season," said Karun in Canada.

You tilted your head. "You say that like it's a bad thing."

When they asked about your dating life, it got worse. You smiled. Every time.

"I don't date anyone on the grid," you said, over and over again.

And they believed you. Because how could someone like you belong to anyone?

"She's fucking unreal."

That was Lando, whispering to George as you walked into the driver briefing room in Miami wearing a cropped fireproof top and low-slung trousers that made half the grid forget what they were arguing about.

"She's going to ruin my life," said Pierre.

"She already ruined mine," mumbled Oscar, clutching his water bottle like it was a holy relic.

Even Max was twitching by Spain. He'd stopped joking about your pace. Stopped smirking when you breezed past him in the cooldown room. Stopped looking at you like you were a rookie.

Started looking at you like a threat. But you didn't care. Because you weren't trying to win their approval.

You were trying to win the championship.

And nothing, nothing got in your way. Until the leak.

It dropped mid-season. Quiet Wednesday. No race. No reason.

Until that photo hit Twitter like a fucking bomb.

You. In Red Bull uniform. Arms wrapped around someone. Kissing him like you'd done it a thousand times. Like you meant it.

His hands were on your waist. His face was mostly hidden. But not entirely. There was enough. A jawline. A wristwatch. The faintest shadow of a tattoo.

And just like that, the illusion shattered.

You were taken. And the world lost its fucking mind.

Pierre was the first to text the grid group chat.

Pierre: who the FUCK is that

George: she said she doesn't date drivers???

Lando: is he a driver??

Charles: the watch looks vintage

Oscar: he's sitting down. she's on his lap. I feel nauseous

Max: shut up

Logan: guys. GUYS. what if it's a principal

Yuki: IT'S HORNER

Pierre: I hate this group chat

Red Bull PR blacked out. Christian Horner started throwing around the phrase "photoshop" like it was 2008. Helmut Marko refused to comment. Meanwhile, every media outlet on the planet began dissecting the image like it was the Zapruder film.

Your fire suit was unzipped. Your eyes were closed. You looked happy. And that was the problem.

Because for the first time, the paddock realised you weren't just an untouchable goddess with a perfect race line and an even better ass.

You were someone's.

And that someone? Still unknown.

The fans were feral. Conspiracies erupted. Reddit threads overflowed.

She's dating a billionaire. No, it's an actor. Wait, is that Daniel Ricciardo's hand? I think it's her trainer. That's Christian's Rolex. No way, that's not a recent photo. She's lying. She said she doesn't date the grid.

You didn't post. You didn't comment.

You just turned up to the next race, Silverstone, in a pair of low-rise jeans, a tiny white tank top, and a glazed lip combo that made the McLaren engineers drop their coffee.

Christian was pacing when you arrived at the garage. "Don't say a word about it," he hissed under his breath.

You put your sunglasses on. "Say a word about what?"

Max appeared five minutes later, twitching with irritation. He didn't speak. Just stared at the floor while you stretched your arms overhead and chatted with Yuki about the weather.

And still, no one knew. No name. No identity. Just a grainy photo. And your smile, smug and untouchable, as you walked through the paddock like nothing happened. Like your whole private world hadn't just been blown wide open.

Silverstone. Friday morning. Cloudy skies. Buzzing paddock. Sky Sports cameras tracking every movement like bloodhounds. Rumours still rabid from the leaked photo. And not a single person had figured it out.

Until now. You arrived late. As always. Fashionably, devastatingly late.

Black halter top with an open back. Low-rise cargo pants with a Red Bull logo stitched along your hip. Glossed lips. Cat-eye eyeliner sharp enough to puncture egos. That slow, confident strut that said I know exactly what I'm doing.

And beside you? Kimi motherfucking Räikkönen.

White t-shirt. Leather jacket. Dark jeans. The man had crow's feet and zero fucks left to give. He held your hand like he'd done it a hundred times before and didn't give a single shit who saw it.

You didn't look at the cameras. You didn't have to. Because in one step, the illusion of mystery died, and the chaos began.

The silence was so loud you could hear Christian Horner's soul exiting his body.

Your phone buzzed instantly.

Charles: you're joking. Lando: I THOUGHT THAT WAS HER DAD AT FIRST GLANCE Oscar: does this mean older men are back in?? Pierre: what the fuck what the fuck what the fuck Max: no. George: he's FORTY FIVE Carlos: I need to lie down Yuki: I'm calling my therapist

Toto saw you walking past Mercedes hospitality and physically stopped breathing.

He stared. Stared harder when he recognised the man beside you. Blinked once. Then again. Then raised a hand like he was about to intervene before realising he had absolutely no legal grounds and was just... flustered.

"Jesus Christ," he muttered under his breath, rubbing his temple.

"Isn't that Kimi?" one of the junior engineers whispered.

Toto didn't answer. Just muttered something in German that sounded a lot like oh god, she's a child.

Inside the Red Bull garage, Christian was pacing like a man possessed.

"She said she doesn't date drivers," he hissed.

"She doesn't," murmured a poor intern.

"HE'S RETIRED," Christian snapped. "AND MIDDLE AGED."

Helmut said nothing. Just stared at the screen like it had personally betrayed him.

You and Kimi stopped for an interview outside the Red Bull motorhome. 

"Can we just ask, how long has this been going on?" the reporter dared.

Kimi didn't answer. You took off your sunglasses. "Two years."

A beat.

"Wait. You were nineteen?"

Another pause. Then your lips curved into a sweet, weaponised smile. "Legal. Consensual. And very, very good."

The cameraman choked.

Meanwhile, behind the scenes, a few of the team principals slipped directly into father-mode panic.

Fred Vasseur pulled you aside after FP1.

"You know I like you," he began, tone gentle. "You're electric. You're young. But this thing with Kimi-"

"Is not your business," you cut in, still smiling.

"It is when he's old enough to be your father," he grumbled.

"Then you'd better tell half the internet to shut up," you said. "Because they think he's my daddy."

Fred short-circuited.

Zak Brown caught Christian muttering to himself in the paddock and offered a half-hearted joke.

"Well, at least she's not dating Lando."

Christian glared at him. "Lando is twenty-four. That would've been better."

The drivers were worse.

Oscar asked if this meant he had to start dressing like a divorced rockstar to have a shot with women.

Pierre kept saying "twenty-four years" under his breath like he was doing the fucking math over and over again.

George stared at Kimi every time they crossed paths and then looked away like a scolded schoolboy.

Charles just said, "She's so young," like a broken record. Then paused. "But also... I get it."

Max? Silent. Fuming. When you passed him in the garage, you smiled sweetly. "Everything okay, Maxie?"

"Why him?" he snapped. "Why Kimi fucking Räikkönen?"

You shrugged. "He doesn't wear skinny jeans and Red Bull merch every day."

The silence after that could've killed a man.

Kimi, for his part, was completely unbothered. He watched FP2 from the garage with his arms crossed. Didn't speak. Didn't flinch. Just nodded once when your lap times came up purple and muttered "good girl" under his breath.

The camera caught it.

The internet exploded.

Christian nearly fainted.

That night, you posted one final nail in the coffin.

An old photo. Blurry. Private. You and Kimi on a dock somewhere, shirtless and smiling, a glass of something in his hand. You on his lap. No makeup. No pretense. Just quiet intimacy.

Caption: "He taught me how to drive. I taught him how to feel."

The comments were carnage.

@f1obsessed: I'm going to scream @kimiswife: do we... ship this? @mclaren4ever: CAN SOMEONE CHECK ON MAX @totoapproved: Fred and Toto definitely had a panic call about this @raikkonensexual: I need to lie down

Christian staged an unofficial intervention Sunday morning. Sat you down. Closed the door. "You're 21."

You stared.

"He's 45."

You smiled.

"You understand why people are... concerned."

"Because I'm smart, hot, and completely in control of my own decisions?"

He paused. "Also because the age gap is nearly the same as if you dated Toto."

"Well now you're giving me ideas."

Christian's soul departed.

You won the race. Of course you did.

And when you stepped onto the podium, champagne still dripping down your chest, your eyes scanned the pit wall until they landed on Kimi.

Arms crossed. Sunglasses on. Smirk barely visible.

You raised your trophy to him.

And he nodded once. A king recognising his queen.

The next thing? It happened in Hungary.

Two races after Silverstone. One week after the photo of Kimi kissing your bare shoulder in a Monaco cafe hit every major outlet. Three days after your new campaign with Balenciaga went viral. Forty-eight hours since Kimi was caught on live TV mouthing something definitely-not-safe-for-broadcast to you on the pit wall.

Christian Horner had had enough.

He called Fred Vasseur and Toto Wolff into a private meeting at the Paddock Club, no cameras, no mics, just sheer panic and two full-grown men drinking espresso and looking like they'd rather be shot.

"This is delicate," Christian had said, pacing like a divorced man with a rage disorder. "She respects you both."

Fred squinted. "She flipped me off in Baku."

"Affectionately," Christian snapped. "She flipped you off affectionately."

Toto sighed. "What do you want us to do, Christian? Forbid her from dating someone twice her age?"

"No," Christian muttered. "Just... talk to her."

Fred groaned. "We are not her fathers."

"You're the closest thing she's got."

You got the text from your assistant mid-afternoon. "Hey babe. Fred and Toto want to talk. Said it's 'important.' Christian may have orchestrated it. They're waiting in the Merc motorhome. xoxo"

You smiled. Tossed your phone in your bag. Adjusted your sunglasses.

Oh, this was going to be good.

The hospitality suite was quiet. Air conditioned. Curtains drawn. Fred was sipping an espresso. Toto was leaning against the table like he was preparing to interrogate a Russian double agent.

You sauntered in, all long legs and smugness, wearing a Red Bull mini-dress and white sneakers, hair slicked back, lipgloss glinting under the lights.

"Gentlemen," you greeted, voice silk. "To what do I owe the pleasure?"

Fred cleared his throat. "We are here... on behalf of Christian."

"I figured."

Toto spoke next. "He's concerned."

You perched on the edge of the table. "About my driving?"

"No."

"My PR?"

Fred frowned. "No."

You smiled. "Then I don't care."

Toto ran a hand down his face. "It's about Kimi."

You fake-gasped. "What about my sweet, ageless, beautiful Finnish boyfriend?"

Fred sighed. "He's not ageless. He's forty-five."

You blinked. "Is he?"

Toto raised an eyebrow. "You're twenty-one."

You tilted your head. "Legal. Consensual. And very, very good at what he does. Want details?"

Fred choked. "God, no."

Toto tried again. "We just think, maybe, it's a bit... much."

You crossed your legs, slow and deliberate. "A bit much for who?"

Fred looked pained. "For you. For the sport. For our blood pressure."

"I'm not asking for your blessing," you said sweetly. "And I sure as fuck don't need your approval."

"You're one of the best drivers we've ever seen," Toto said, voice gentler now. "You're fast. Strategic. Focused."

"And?"

"And we're worried you'll lose control," Fred admitted.

You laughed. Genuinely. "Lose control? Because I'm dating a man who listens more than he talks? Who doesn't try to outshine me? Who's not intimidated by the fact that I'm younger, faster, and louder?"

Toto frowned. "You think he's not intimidated?"

"I know he's not. That's why he's the only one who can touch me."

Fred groaned again. "I'm begging you not to say things like that."

"Too late," you said brightly. "Also , he brings me water before quali, rubs my shoulders after sessions, and has a standing 'fuck everyone else' clause in our relationship. He's the only person who doesn't treat me like I'm going to combust."

Toto blinked. "He rubs your shoulders?"

"With his teeth sometimes."

Fred stood up. "Nope. I'm done. I'm tapping out."

Outside the motorhome, Christian was pacing again. The door opened. Fred and Toto emerged looking mildly traumatised.

"Well?" Christian demanded. "Did you talk some sense into her?"

Fred looked at Toto. Toto looked at Christian.

Then he said flatly, "She said Kimi uses his teeth on her shoulders."

Christian turned white.

Back inside, you stretched your arms overhead, smirking at the ceiling.

[suprsaturatd]

I and some other sewists and fiber artists were featured in Teen Vogue recently!! It’s really wild seeing how my tiny little punk sewing circle has been reaching people around my city :) You can read the article here!!! I wanted to talk a bit more about my reasoning for doing this stitch ‘n’ bitch event on tumblr since i get a lot of inspiration here. :3

I’ve been hosting a monthly Stitch ‘n’ Bitch crafting circle since August of 2024. I haven’t quite hit a year yet, but it has been a blast so far!! Every month I bring sewing supplies (scrap cloth, needles, thread, embroidery floss, scissors, pins, buttons, other shit i can get my hands on), zines, and my own DIY mending know-how and attitude to help people mend their clothes. We set up in a local DIY punk record shop in Denver, CO, with help and promotion from Aliyah Wallace and her local art club meetup group, Artists in Sync.

I’ve been on tumblr for fandom stuff for a minute, but it’s really only been since 2021 that I got into visible mending and solarpunk. I’ve been really inspired by the solarpunk and visible mending communities on tumblr. In particular, I’ve gotten a lot out of following @wastelesscrafts , @solarpunkactionweek , @solarpunkani , @mossyvida , @fennopunk , @obsob @mildmayfoxe @claypigeonpottery @plantyhamchuk @theenbyroiderer and probably a whole bunch of other people i’ve been quietly following but not saying anything to for four years. Not everyone listed here may consider themselves ‘solarpunk’ per se, but they’re people who’ve inspired my art and my desire to share a better world with my community.

I get to make and sell cool textile art, but what I really love is being able to show people how to do stuff like this. All of these embroidery stitches are fairly simple (if repetitive), most of these were made with hand-sewing, and all of it comes from thrifted materials. It also looks pretty cool!!! I like wearing clothing that I made just for me, and I know it’s something that would make other people feel great about their clothes and their body.

If your clothes are falling apart, it is not your fault a million times over - the push for more clothing, more styles, more trends, at faster rates, all for more and more of a profit has destroyed the quality of our garments. Fabrics are made of plastic and made poorly to boot. The people working in sweatshop clothing factories are being forced to turn out products faster and faster, with no real increase in pay, benefits, or ability to add the kinds of finishings that make clothes last longer. You’re overworked and underpaid, and it’s easier to buy new clothing than it is to try to eke out time in your jam-packed day to fix the holes in your shirt. It’s easier to keep you trapped in that shitty job if you don’t know your neighbors, if you are constantly trying to hold your life together under solely your own power (or maybe yours and that of a partner, if you’re lucky). It’s easier to miss the effects of the clothes you wear and discard because they are quietly shuffled away from you.

I started to learn how to embroider because embroidery floss is cheap, frequently boldly colored, easier for my sweet sweet nearsighted eyes to see, and it produces the kind of free-form, messy art I love. I was hooked into visible mending VERY soon after beginning my embroidery journey because hey! I can put art on my clothes! Why would I not want more of that? It was an act of caring for myself and my loved ones - I want that sweater you love to be with you longer, I want to put little flowers and suns and butterflies on your clothes for you, I want those jeans that makes your ass look awesome to last for another decade. I don’t want to buy new underwear. I CANNOT AFFORD TO BUY NEW UNDERWEAR.

But my clothes are mine: I have little pieces of evidence of my love for myself and my clothes on more and more of my wardrobe. The pre-distressed overall shorts I found now have autumnally-colored vines chasing up and down the patches I added. The boxer briefs I got when I got rid of all my old girl clothes and replaced them with something that made me feel at home in my body are still with me, with colorful little darns overlapping. The first band shirt I ever got and outgrew a long time ago is salvaged and is now paired with another shirt with another piece of art I love. I pay attention to the clothes of my friends and my lovers and I can give them something that will be with them for as long as they keep their clothes - for longer, even, if they are passed on.

And I don’t need to hoard that. It would be antithetical. For every person I teach a ladder stitch, that’s so many shirts and pants and skirts and jackets that will last just a bit longer. For every mending kit I hand out, someone will keep their favorite shoes for another year. It saves money, it keeps trash out of landfills, it takes back power from the ghouls who would have us licking their feet for table scraps. But most of all, repairing something you love makes it even more yours. To be loved is to be changed. To be cared for is to leave your mark and wear others’, forever.

[pissvortex]

Me and Greg talk about this in the newest episode of Red Connections but the reason nobody will ever “take one for the team” and do something that directly threatens capitalist hegemony is because the only thing that leftist organizing in America is doing is working on improving people’s quality of life and playing damage control. We all have too much to lose, union jobs to fight for, etc. — why would we throw that all away going to jail for sabotaging a weapons factory or something? I am by no means saying that purposefully making people’s lives worse on purpose so they have less to live for is a viable strategy either (that is where we’re headed regardless, though!). The left, the fucking DSA and PSL and SRA or whatever need to pool their resources together on SOME kind of a limited united front that provides legal defense and solidarity for everyone who takes actions that risks their careers by putting them at odds with capital. People need to be allowed to openly oppose the state and still have a LIFE to fall back on rather than just fucking dying alone in a blaze of glory. Housing, armed protection from fascists, shelter from the state, anything at all to give people an alternative way of having some semblance of a life after putting themselves at odds with the status quo. “Building power” and creating a parallel structure at odds with capitalist society is not this incrementalist getting socialists on the city council bullshit that we’ve already been trying to do for decades. Dual power means moving as a bloc capable of taking action and sheltering ourselves from retaliation by the state and capital - we can’t rely on the bravery of individuals who are willing to throw their lives away setting themselves on fire or assassinating a CEO, we need to provide people with a livable alternative to the system they put themselves in opposition to.

[sinofwriting]

Private Professor - Max Verstappen

Words: 5,576 Summary: For years and years, Max has claimed that he has a girlfriend, but no one has ever met her and he refuses to talk about her with the media. And it’s far easier to believe that he’s lying when no proof of a girl exists. Note(s)/Warning(s): Small Age Gap (Reader is nearly two years younger), Some Angst, Mostly Fluff, Jos Verstappen. Thank you so much to the anon that requested this! I had a lot of fun writing it!

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At fourteen and sixteen, their relationship is all blood rushing to their cheeks, fluttering hands, kisses that last too long and not long enough, panting breaths, and hickeys below shirt collars. It’s whispers of forever, of I’ll take you here and there. That house will be ours one day. Whatever you want, you’ll have. I’ll be on break, you’ll come home and I’ll be waiting. You’ll follow me everywhere and I’ll do the same.

It’s promises they don’t realize they shouldn’t be making but do. It’s sweet nothings and petty fights that last a day before they’re back in each other’s arms. It’s pretending not to notice how his dad watches him amused as he walks calmly out of the door before sprinting over to her house and sneaking into her bedroom. It’s her parents pretending not to hear the thud of him falling into her bedroom and the light giggles their daughter makes.

At fourteen and sixteen, their relationship changes. It’s no longer seeing each other when he doesn’t have a race or training and is home, no Red Bull duties to be done. It’s long phone calls, texts, snapchat streaks, learning how to video call. It’s carrying two power banks with them everywhere and Max buying them both expensive phone cases that charge their phones. It’s falling asleep on the phone while the other is just beginning their day. He attends classes with her, while she listens to him train. He goes to red bull meetings and pretends not to have the light sound of breathing in his ears from her falling asleep while studying or doing her homework.

Fifteen and seventeen, brings them peace. She’s still studying like a mad woman at Harvard of all places, but he’s got an F1 seat of all things. He’s in F1. He suddenly has more things to do but more free time. When he’s not racing or at the factory or doing weird press things that make him want to rip his hair out, Jos is putting him on a plane to America, to her. And he soaks up all the time with her he can, despite it being filled with her studying, attending classes, and forcing actual food down her throat which her parents both thank him for.

It also brings the stupidest thing in the world; the doubt and disbelief that he has a girlfriend.

Carlos is the first to bring it up upon seeing his home screen that’s just all black, not even the default that iphone has.

“No girlfriend?”

Max frowns at him, pocketing his phone and sending a glance over to where his father is standing and talking to his race engineer. “What?”

“Your home screen, it’s all black. You don’t have a girlfriend?” Carlos is teasing, joking. The whole paddock already knows that Jos Verstappen wouldn’t let his son have a girlfriend, not now when he’s got an F1 seat. Such a thing would be a distraction and Max isn’t allowed those. Max isn’t allowed friends on the grid either. Carlos wonders though how much the last part is just a Jos thing.

“I do.” Then he says her name, all soft and sweet in a way Carlos never thought Max could be. It’s nearly enough for him to believe Max, but then he catches a glimpse of Jos and shakes his head, clapping the seventeen year old on the back.

He is the first to not believe Max, but far from the last. It’s Daniel next, Christian, Esteban, Pierre, Sebastian, Lando, every interviewer that asks.

It doesn’t matter because at seventeen and nineteen, she gets her second degree and begins the nightmare of getting her doctorates in education and history. And he picks out a ring before making his father hide it away. And instead of him constantly flying to her, she’s flying to him. Hiding out in his Monaco apartment, turning his living room into a disaster zone as she spreads her things around to study.

The mess drives him crazy, but he doesn’t move anything no matter how much his hands itch to do so, instead just pressing a kiss to the top of her head before pressing himself in between her and the couch. Grinning when she sends him a look, a clear don’t be a distraction, before giving him a kiss.

His days in Monaco when she’s there are spent in the living room after training, playing fifa or watching some documentary for one of her classes with her, and poking at her lightly because he doesn’t know shit about history but he’s still able to remember countries quicker than her.

They turn eighteen and twenty and nearly get married when her family goes on vacation to Vegas, dragging the two along despite them not being able gamble, which is the only reason her parents had chosen Vegas. The only thing that stops them from getting married is him not being a US citizen and her visa just being for school. It’s a fucking wakeup call for him and he can’t help but pester her about places in Monaco to live.

She entertains it for all of five minutes before she’s cupping his face and kissing him. When she pulls back, she’s shaking her head. “As long as it has you and four bedrooms, I don’t care.”

“Four?”

“We’ll need our own offices and a guest room.”

It’s barely anything for the real estate agent to work with but he doesn’t care. He wants something that’s at least four bedrooms, two baths, a decent kitchen, and a view. She liked the Monaco sunrise and sunset and he planned on letting her be able to see it anytime they stayed in Monaco.

His agent gets back to him in a week and he ignores the look on Daniel’s face when he comes over for the first time. Ignores the jokes about it being too big for one person just like Daniel ignores him saying that he has a girlfriend.

“If you had one, I’d have seen a picture of her mate. The whole world would.”

Max still remembers the way his jaw had twitched at the thing everyone said. That if he had a girlfriend, they’d have seen a picture of her, that he’d be showing her off every second, have her at the races, been seen with her. When Max had made it abundantly clear that the worst part of driving was the media, the fame. So why would he ever subject someone he loves to that when they both weren’t ready for that?

Because they weren’t. He wasn’t ready for another part of his life, one of the most important parts, to be something for everyone to look at and dissect. And she wasn’t ready for it either. Not when she was doing so much studying. She barely felt like she had time for him, which he denied and hated vehemently, she didn’t have time for the online vitriol of being a girlfriend to a high profile athlete. And she didn’t need to be harassed as she attended classes and studies groups and such if someone recognized her and didn’t like that she was with him.

Not showing any pictures or videos of her was also easy for him. It wasn’t because he didn’t have any, he had hundreds. But they were pictures and videos of her, only meant for him. Not because they were dirty in nature, though some were, but because how she was in them was something only she allowed him to see. It was photos of her with a finger pressed to her top lip as she glared at her books, videos of her sitting on something too tall for her feet to touch the ground and letting them swing. It was her smiling at him, all fond, shy and in love.

It was them wrapped up in each other’s arms and love. Her in between his legs or the other way around. Her sitting on his lap as Vic stole his phone to video them laughing and exchanging kisses. Her giggles as she tries not to fall asleep as reads her books to him over facetime. It’s her in her purest form and he doesn’t want the people in his life who are so quick and sure to not believe him to get to see that.

Nineteen and twenty-one, she officially co-owns their place in Monaco and he starts scouting out property in Belgium and land in France that’s somewhat close to the principality he lives in. It was too early to start building a house to live in forever, not when they weren’t sure what they wanted to live in forever with their kids, but it wasn’t too early to buy the land for it.

It also leads to their biggest fight in years.

“Max!” Her nails are digging into her arms. “I’m not saying that. I’m saying that I want to help, that I can pay. I have money!”

“And you don’t need to!” He’s yelling as well, face red with anger. “I’ve got money too! You don’t need to pay for shit when I can.”

She shakes her head. “Really? Is that how it’s always going to be? I won’t ever get to pay for anything? Just have a salary and trust fund wasting away.” She scoffs, giving another shake of her head. “Is it about being the breadwinner? Because don’t worry Max, I’m well aware that you’ll always have more money than me. Doesn’t mean I can’t contribute to our life.”

“Fuck.” He murmurs seeing the tears brimming in her eyes but not falling, the hurt in her words. “It’s not about that at all. It’s not about being the breadwinner.”

“Then what is it about?” Her voice is high pitched. “You won’t let me pay for a single thing! I can’t buy groceries without you slipping money back into my wallet. I can’t help pay the bills and now you won’t let me help buy the land that will have our house on it. What is it about Max?”

“You’re mine.” Her eyes widened at his quiet but firm tone. “You’re my girlfriend, the love of my life. One day my wife and the mother of my children.” He runs his tongue over his teeth, feeling words and feelings he’s only ever really let come out during sex or when they’re both so drunk they barely remember anything the next day. “I want to pay for everything because it’s providing for you, it’s making sure you’re eating, sleeping somewhere safe, getting the best, most accommodating flights. It’s knowing that I’m providing for my family.”

“Max,” she breathes out, arms falling away from her chest and then she’s moving closer, resting a hand over his racing heart. “You want to provide for me?”

He nods.

“For our future kids?”

“Yes.”

“So do I. So, we’re going to work on this. You want to buy the land, you can.” He looks at her distrusting, because this didn’t sound like working on it. “But, I get to pay for groceries when I go out for them, without you paying me back. I get to pay for netflix because I use it more and spotify.” She adds.

He frowns at her. “I don’t like it.”

“Too bad and I’m not done. In return, you get to pay the bills, put gas in the car for me,” he grins at that.

“Pay for my flights and we are going to open a joint account to put an equal amount of money in every month. For things like vacations, anniversary dinners, and the kids. Because it’s important that I get to help provide for them too. And when we build that house together, I want to pay at least half of the contracting fee. I’ll let you pay for the rest.”

“I want to pay for any of the kids’ interests. Like art, ballet or karting.”

“No deal.” She shakes her head and he’s frowning again. “You can pay for all the karting, it will mean more. But I want it out of the shared account for the other things. Unless,” she pauses.

“Unless,” he encourages.

“If any of them decides to go to university early like me, I want to pay fully for it.”

“No.” It’s quick and now she’s frowning as well. “It’s our children and their education. Shared account.”

“Their first degree.”

He shakes his head. “And if it’s their only degree?”

Her brows press together, it was a good point. Just because they decided to go to university early like her didn’t mean they’d go for more than one degree. “First year.”

His eyes narrow as he looks at her, but he nods. “First year. But only of the first degree.”

“First degree only.” She agrees.

It’s quiet between them before Max lets his face soften, lips twisting slightly into a smile. “Are we done fighting?”

She laughs, but nods. “Yeah. We’re done fighting.”

“Thank god.” He breathes, pulling her into his arms and burying his face into the crook of her neck. “Let’s not do that again.”

“Not anytime soon at least.”

“I love you.” He murmurs.

“I love you too.”

Twenty and twenty-two has their families asking when exactly they’re getting married, wondering why there isn’t a ring on her finger and their only saving grace is their time spent in Monaco together away from them all. But when it gets to be too much as pressure builds as she tries to finish her doctorate in education while still working on her doctorate for history, it’s Jos that steps in for her and Max.

The three of them shared a complicated relationship. She could never like him for the parent he was to Max growing up. From the near abuse he hurled at him when he failed, the pressure he put on a child, the leaving him in a foreign country for a few hours when he wasn’t even a teenager more than once. But she did love him, because Max loved him and in his own way he loved Max and he showed that with his support of their relationship when everyone expected for him to have a problem with it, label it as a distraction. And now as a few years had passed and Max was comfortable in his F1 seat, he was Max’s fiercest defender, unwilling to back down, but would if Max told him too. And he was her fiercest defender as well. Glaring at jokes about her not needing a degree with the money Max made, not forcing her to join on trips when she was busy with school or questioning her support of Max because she didn’t attend races.

So, neither Max or her are surprised when Jos steps in when her grandparents are trying to back them into a corner as to why she doesn’t have a ring on her finger and how they have a number for a wedding planner and she should really give her a call, when all they want is to get breakfast before retreating to their room so she can resume her studies while Max hovers around her while going over his own work.

She hadn’t been thrilled at first when she learned that Jos would join them on the trip, knowing that Sophie wouldn’t be there, but now she was grateful and she made sure to squeeze his shoulder before leaving the kitchen and scheduled a nice quiet dinner for herself, Max and Jos as thanks.

The media becomes relentless when they’re twenty-two and twenty-four and Max wins his first championship. Because there is no girlfriend in sight despite the now champions thanks for her support and love. They tear Max apart for creating a fake girlfriend that has no name or face, call him unloveable with his fake championship. Some tear her apart as well, calling her gold digger, selfish, undeserving, fans of Max and the sport do as well.

It was supposed to be a happy moment for him, one of if not the best in his life, but it’s tainted, ruined, and as soon as he’s home with her in Monaco, all she can do is hold him and pretend that the texts from his friends begging him to go out and get laid don’t make her cry later in the shower.

Despite the texts and a bold one from Daniel about hiring him a prostitute, she forces Max to go out, to celebrate with the drivers in Monaco, to get drunk and have fun, and forget what the media is saying about him.

“I’m coming back if one of them even hints at a prostitute.” He tells her and she laughs, but she knows that he’s serious. He’s never even once considered cheating on her and one of their first serious fights had been about her trying to convince him and herself that she’d be okay if he got lonely while he was traveling and needed someone. He hadn’t believed it for a second and it had been one of the few times he had been so pissed at her that he couldn’t even stomach to look at her.

“Am I making a mistake, mom?” She asks, barely five minutes later, not even bothering saying hi when her mom greets her over the phone.

“No.”

Her mom’s voice is firm and has her blinking away tears. “But,”

“No.” Her mom cuts her off. “Sweetheart, I can’t even begin to try and understand Max and yours relationship. But this, this privacy that you two have, that’s not a mistake. It’s rough right now and it will be. And it will come back later when you two do decide to be public, but it’s not a mistake. You two both made the difficult, heartbreaking, mature decision to keep it private for both of yours sake.”

“I know.” She whispers, wiping away tears.

“You both still need privacy and there is no shame in that. Max isn’t ready and neither are you. As far as I’m concerned the only mistake you two have made is still not being married with a baby on the way.”

“Mom.” She groans and her mom laughs.

“I know, I know. Just remember that despite the seven or so years you’ve been together, that you two are still young, still doing so much growing.”

“Thank you.”

“Of course.”

When Max arrives home hours later, drunkenly stumbling around and into bed, she’s not surprised by the smell of liquor clinging to him or the drunken murmurings he’s pressing to her skin. She is surprised by the deep inhale he takes and the splutter that makes her turn to face him.

Eyes a little blurry from sleep and wine, she makes out squinted eyes, flushed face, and a frown.

“You’re drunk.”

“You’re drunk.” She replies, curling closer to him.

“You’ve been crying.”

“Yeah.”

He slips an arm around her, pulling her closer. “We’re going to feel like shit when we wake up.”

“Yeah.”

He chuckles, brushing lips over her forehead. “That bad?”

“That bad.” She nods.

At twenty-three and twenty-four, the itch that Max has had since he was nineteen, one that’s grown worse and worse as the years have gone by, is too persistent and he takes a quick trip to his fathers house the day after she turns twenty-three and returns with a ring and the promises they made at fourteen and sixteen, promising them all over again, as she stares at him with a smile and teary eyes.

“I’d be stupid to not want to marry you Max.” She tells him when he slips the ring on her finger, breathing a sigh of relief when it goes on, fitting perfectly.

“You’re going to marry me.”

She nods, giggling at his blown pupils and silly grin. “Yes, I am.”

It seems stupid to be so giggly and flustered about it, so love sick, when they’ve talked about it so much. About getting married, about houses, kids, life after racing and teaching. But it’s different with the ring on her finger. Not more real or tangible. Just more.

“I know I proposed early.”

She shakes her head, wrapping her arms around his neck and his arms eagerly wrap around her waist. “It’s perfect. I know we talked and had plans, but this is perfect. Besides, I’ve got news of my own that’s early.”

“Oh?” Max’s eyebrow raises and he knows it’s not possible, not really with her religious use of the birth control shot and the way they mainly use condoms, more for convenience than anything else, but his eyes drift down to her abdomen that’s exposed. There’s no difference, but he can imagine what it would look like, he can also imagine what it will look like in a few hours.

“Not that.” Her bottom lip is pulled between her teeth. “I got an email about my viva exam.”

“Your viva? But you haven’t submitted your thesis yet.”

“Actually,”

“Stop.” He lifts a hand to press it against her mouth. “You submitted your thesis already? You completed it?”

She nods, her laughter muffled by his hand and he drops it.

“Well, what did it say? The email.”

“Once I get to the ceremony, I will officially hold a doctorate in education and history.”

He kisses her before she can say anything else.

“Unbelievable my love, unbelievable. Two doctorates by twenty-three.” He shakes his head, smiling wide.

“You know what that means right?”

He shakes his head again, unable to think of anything. Too overcome with his proudness and love for her.

“I’ll have my position at Harvard right after the ceremony.”

Blue eyes widen.

“And they agreed to let me teach a mix schedule for all of 2022, but when the official school year starts for 2023, I’ll just be teaching digital.”

Twenty-three and twenty-five has them weathering the media storm once again as Max wins his second world championship. It’s worse this time. Not because he says more than he did last time about her or says her name or slips up and calls her his fiancee and not girlfriend like they agreed to. But because this championship no one can deny is his and she’s still not there. Too busy in a different continent with the start of the school year as she teaches by herself for the first time since earning both her doctorates.

It’s also not as bad this time, because some of his friends do think that he’s seeing someone, not the girlfriend of years, or even really a girlfriend, but just some random girl that understands he’s too busy for an actual relationship and willing to put up with him spouting to the media and everyone else that he’s in a committed relationship. She doesn’t have time to focus on the media and fans that believe she exists, she barely did last year, but this year she really doesn’t.

“You know,” she says five days after he’s won his championship and they are in the house they have stayed in for the past two years when she has to be at Harvard and he wants to join her. “Around this time next year, we’ll be public.”

His face does a weird contortion at the thought. There was a giddiness to the idea, to the thought, but also dread.

“That means,” she continues when Max doesn’t say anything. “That you have ample time to figure out how you want to tell people.”

“How I want to?”

“Yeah. This is your world, your friends, colleagues, nightmares,” she adds and they both laugh. “You can decide how exactly you want to get back at them for not believing you.”

“I’m not going to be cruel.”

“No.” She lifts her hand and lets her pointer finger trace over his lips. “You’ve never been a cruel person, Max. But you can be a menace.”

His eyes light up at that. “Oh. And you don’t care?”

She shakes her head, “This is all you and I’m more than happy to be along for the ride.”

She is twenty-four and he has just turned twenty-six when he decides to enact his plan that he came up with so many months ago.

He had made a reservation for a private hall in Monaco months ago, hired a party planner to take care of the finer details, but sorted himself out the place and the food and drinks that would be served. And the day after he turns twenty-six, he picks up the large stack of enveloped invitations he had made and carefully packs them in his suitcase for Qatar. He was winning the championship there and he’d be damned if he didn’t make an already memorable weekend even better.

It’s the first time in a decade she has traveled with him to a race to actually watch the race and not just be there at the hotel to support him as she studies and he can’t help the smugness and happiness that radiates off him when he shows up to the track for the first day.

He’s got his backpack over his shoulder, but the invitations are already in his hands, ready to be passed out.

“Max!” Charles greets when he arrives in the driver’s debrief room. All twenty of them, plus reserves, team principals, and Daniel sitting and standing around as they wait for the FIA representative to get here. He looks down at his watch, noting that it will at least another ten minutes, before his eyes flicker to a member of the Red Bull staff that’s standing against a wall, but just like he asked, they’ve got a camera in their hands and there’s another one standing leaning against the opposite wall, also with a camera.

“Charles. Safe flight?”

“Always. What do you have there?”

“Ooh,” Daniel chimes in, moving closer and looking at the envelopes in his hands. “What do you have there?”

He smirks and he can see Daniel’s grin flatter at the sight for a brief second. “Invitations.” He says, before tossing or passing them around to the different drivers and Christian. He nearly avoids giving Lando one just to be a shit but Toto isn’t there to give it too and it wouldn’t be the same to give it to a different team principal jokingly.

“What is it for?” Carlos asks, eyeing the dark envelope like a lot of the other drivers are, suspiciously.

He shrugs, eyebrows raising when he sees the way Lando is feeling the envelope. “Mate, I’m not giving you money.”

Lando frowns, before ripping it open. “You’ve got more than enough to spare.”

Seeing Lando open his, has the rest of them following suit.

“Dear friends of Max Verstappen,” George reads out and the wording earns a few snorts but he continues. “You are invited to celebrate at the” he pauses squinting at the french on the page.

“The Salle des Étoiles” Charles says.

“Cheers, mate. You’re invited to celebrate on the 8th of November at 4pm.” His eyebrows furrow. “Celebrate what?”

Max watches from the corner of his eye as Christian flips the invitation over and nearly chokes.

“Your engagement?”

“Your what?”

“Engaged?”

“Impossible.”

“Lies.”

The whole room is filled with denial and panic and Max just smiles, nearly laughing when Logan thrusts his invitation into James’ hands and asks the team principal if it’s true.

“Max, you aren’t engaged, right? Like that was a fuck up with the print place?” Daniel is nearly pleading, begging, and Max would feel sorry, but for the past ten years he’s been telling people he isn’t single, and sure he’s never shared many details, but they all refused to believe or even consider it.

He ignores him, instead looking at the room in large. “You’ll meet her tomorrow. She’s very excited about it.” And as if he planned it, the FIA official walks into the room and no one can question him.

When the meeting is over he manages to avoid all of them except for Christian, who nearly drags him into a private room.

“Is this real?”

Max raises an eyebrow at the way he’s waving around the invitation but nods. “Yes.”

“You’re really engaged.”

“Yes, Christian. I am.”

The older man stares at him, not blinking before sighing and running a hand over his face. “Is she pregnant?”

“What?”

“The girl you’ve been sleeping with recently. Is she pregnant, is that what this is about? Because you don’t have to marry her.”

“No one is pregnant.” He reassures, not even able to find any anger for Christian and his assumption.

The older man sighs again before sitting down and slumping in the chair.

“You’ve had a girlfriend since you were sixteen.” There’s regret, guilt, and sorrow in his voice.

“Yes.”

“And I never believed you.”

He shrugs, it had hurt yes, but he had always understood Christian’s disbelief in it over anyone else’s. “No.”

Christian nods. “And I owe you both an apology for that. I should have believed you Max.”

“Thank you.”

“But really, ten years and you’ve just put a ring on it?”

Max groans, rolling his eyes. “You sound like our families.”

They are twenty-four and twenty-six when Max wins his third championship, with the sprint race of all things, and the whole world watches as he’s enveloped by his team before he’s tugging off his helmet and kissing the unfamiliar girl that’s between Christian and Jos, shielded from the rough crowd of Red Bull mechanics, crew, and such. They are twenty-four and twenty-six when everyone finds out that Max had been telling the truth the whole time.

Just about a month later, she eases into the spot between Max and the arm of the couch, eagerly tucking herself closer to him when he drapes an arm over her shoulders.

“You alright?”

She nods, “Yeah, Vic and Tom finally left.”

Max snorts, “It only took them thirty minutes.”

“A record for them.” She grins, before looking at the other people surrounding them, or rather Max. She wasn’t surprised that Max had taken to quickly grabbing a few people and secluding themselves in a corner. She was a bit surprised by the people however.

Charles and Daniel which isn’t too surprising, but there’s the three rookies of the season, Liam, Oscar, and Logan, as well, a little surprising, but nothing compared to the two Mercedes drivers also in front of her.

“You aren’t trying to get Lewis to play paddle are you?”

Lewis laughs, shaking his head. “I get enough of competing with him on the track. There’s no convincing me there.”

“It’s fun, Lewis.” Charles says. “You should join. George, you too. Make it Mercedes versus,” he pauses, eyebrows scrunching together as he tries to think of something to call himself and Max.

“Lestappen.” She offers, inching away a bit when Max pinches her side.

Charles doesn’t notice the pinch, just smiles at her, before looking at the two British drivers. “Yes! Mercedes versus Lestappen.” His eyebrows then furrow. “What is Lestappen?”

“Mate, you don’t want to know.” Liam tells him.

Logan chuckles, “I don’t know. Either he finds out now or he finds out when he googles it later.”

“Googles it.” George murmurs, mocking the American accent that Logan has. “Bloody Americans.”

“Yeah, yeah, tea and crumpets.” Logan waves off Georges mocking with a grin as he looks at Charles.

“It’s what people call you and Max, a nickname you could say for when you two are together.” She tells him before Logan can say anything.

“Oh,” he frowns, considering. “That doesn’t sound so bad.”

“It’s not.” She assures.

Before anyone can say anything else, someone joins their group, eyes focusing on her.

“Dr. Y/L/N, congratulations on your engagement.”

She looks at the older man in surprise before quickly standing to shake his hand. “Toto, a pleasure to see you again. And please you don’t need to call me doctor.”

Toto smiles, tilting his head forwards, conceding as she sits back down.

“Doctor?” Daniel questions, eyes flitting between her and the Mercedes team principal, not sure of what to make of the interaction, though Max seems perfectly fine with it.

She presses her lips together and she can feel Max move a bit closer as Toto’s eyes narrow at Max. “Yes.” She tells Daniel and the rest. “I managed to get both of my doctorates last year.”

A few jaws drop and Lewis whistles. “And I thought you were just a teacher.”

Toto’s looking at her now, with narrowed eyes and she sighs.

It would be just her luck that despite having just met the man once, that one time had resulted in a long conversation after he gave his guest lecture at Harvard.

“You told them you’re a teacher.”

“I told them I teach.” She corrects. “Let’s not make a big deal out of it.”

“I want to make a big deal out of it.” Max mumbles and she sends him a pleading look.

But Max doesn’t give in, instead he turns to the rest of them. “She’s a professor at Harvard. She got both her doctorates at twenty-three and quickly was signed on as professor.”

“So, what you’re saying,” Oscar starts, breaking the silence that has fallen over the group. “Is that she is way too smart for you?”

Max laughs, eyes crinkling and body bending forward from the force of it. “Without a doubt, mate. Without a doubt.”

[kxsagi]

Bllk boys with an s/o who somehow manages to make them fall asleep just by blasting sleepy phonk like they'd be wide awake and then sleepy phonk and they're knocked out cold and they question why every time ( kaiser, rin, shidou and anyone else you wanna add )

“𝐩𝐡𝐨𝐧𝐤 𝐟𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐚𝐧𝐲𝐥”

a/n: I THOUGHT THIS REQ WAS FUNNY

but i’m not really sure what sleepy phonk counts as, is it like the instrumental of roi by videoclub or the lost soul down by NBSPLV??? 

ft. kaiser michael, itoshi rin, shidou ryusei, itoshi sae, karasu tabito, isagi yoichi, nagi seishiro, bachira meguru

kaiser michael

you play one of those slow, mellow phonk songs with the deep bass and hazy loops, and he doesn’t think anything of it. he’s literally in the middle of dramatically trash-talking isagi when his body just… starts betraying him. 

his voice fades. eyelids droop. his upper body sways. 

“what the f– … why am i…” BONK. slumped sideways on the couch, dead asleep. 

you didn’t even notice, you were too busy wiping crumbs off your shirt. when you turn around he looks like someone hit him with a dart tranquilizer. 

wakes up four hours later like “who drugged me?” and you’re like “uh. the speaker?” 

absolutely refuses to believe it's the music. keeps blaming it on bad sleep or low blood sugar. 

tries to fight it like it’s a challenge. he’ll stare at you dead in the eye and go, “i won’t fall asleep this time.” cue you playing it again. three minutes later he’s dozing off mid-smirk. 

one time he got so mad he threatened to destroy your speaker. (he tripped over his own feet on the way and knocked himself out before he could.) 

itoshi rin

rin is fully convinced this is psychological warfare. 

he’ll be standing, talking to you normally, then you press play and suddenly he’s blinking slow as hell like he got rebooted. 

“wait. no. you’re doing it again.” 

tries to leave the room. doesn’t make it past the hallway. collapses dramatically like a fainting goat. 

once fell asleep in the middle of washing dishes. the faucet was still on. 

absolutely hates it. thinks it’s “unnatural.” starts researching “subliminal music control” and asks if you’re brainwashing him with some kind of audio hypnosis. 

he once accused you of trying to assassinate him with music. 

“turn that off. turn it off. my nervous system is shutting down.” 

refuses to let you have aux ever again in the car because last time he woke up in a parking lot two hours from home with a blanket on him and no memory of how he got there. 

shidou ryusei

cackles the first time it happened, he thought you laced his food. 

“you’re telling me you just played this… and my brain factory reset?” 

every single time he hears that beat drop, he immediately yells “NOPE NOPE NOPE. NOT THIS DRUGGED UP COWBOY MUSIC AGAIN–” then collapses mid-sentence like a tranquilized bear. 

literally wakes up mad. throws your speaker across the room while still rubbing the sleep out of his eyes like a grumpy toddler. 

tries to act like he’s too wild to be affected, then you catch him sleeping with the same sleepy phonk playlist under his pillow like it’s a bedtime lullaby. 

“listen i don’t need it, it’s just a vibe. you wouldn’t get it.” 

will absolutely start calling it your "sleepy black magic tape" and pretends he's scared of you. fake shivers and all. 

“my body associates your music taste with comas now. thanks, babe.” 

itoshi sae

you start playing it during a late-night drive, and within five minutes he’s gone. head slumped against the window. breathing soft. soul left his body. 

wakes up all confused like he just took a power nap in another dimension. 

“how long was i out? …why do i feel like i’ve been asleep for twelve years?” 

every time you play it again he tries to stay awake out of pure ego, but he gets so annoyed at how heavy his limbs feel. 

mutters a whole paragraph of insults under his breath before slipping into REM. 

eventually starts using it intentionally but won’t admit it. like he’ll go “i guess it wouldn’t kill me if you played that stupid zombie song again” right before bed. 

“i’m not addicted. i’m just being efficient.” 

pretends it’s annoying but secretly has the playlist saved on his phone under the name "🤨" 

karasu tabito

BRO STARTS DANCING TO IT AT FIRST. 

you’re like “karasu no” and he’s like “karasu YES.” 

and then two mins later he’s laying face-down on the floor like a body outline at a crime scene. 

wakes up, rolls over, and goes “yo did i die for a second orrrr…?” 

loves it though. finds it hilarious. he’ll literally set it as his own alarm so he wakes up and falls back asleep in a loop. 

“you don’t get it, babe. this music is laced. this is phonk fentanyl.” 

sometimes just asks you to play it to prove to people that it works. like he’ll invite bachira over and go, “watch this,” then collapse 60 seconds in like it’s a magic trick. 

he becomes the #1 believer that you’re a sleep witch. 

“this woman is dangerous. protect her. or let her drop a mixtape. either way we all win.” 

isagi yoichi 

isagi thought it was a coincidence the first time. “oh maybe i was just tired.” 

second time? “okay maybe i’m still tired.” 

third time? “wait a damn minute.” 

he gets so serious about it. starts journaling his sleep patterns. literally charts the timestamps of when the music plays and when he loses consciousness. 

“this is a phenomenon. i need answers.” 

he keeps trying to test it under different conditions like it’s a science project. “okay play it while i’m exercising.” falls asleep doing jumping jacks. 

one time he tried to fight it by drinking three energy drinks beforehand. the music still knocked him out. woke up with a headache and heartburn. 

“what is this sorcery?? this is stronger than melatonin AND ASMR combined.” 

eventually surrenders and asks you to play it when he has trouble sleeping. but only if you’re there. otherwise he gets paranoid and thinks he’ll wake up in an alternate timeline. 

nagi seishiro

honestly? he was already halfway to unconsciousness when it first happened. 

but the moment you played that dreamy, floaty phonk beat? instant deep slumber. like you enhanced his default settings. 

he didn’t even say anything. no reaction. he blinked slowly like a sleepy cat and just laid down right where he was standing. 

you were like “bro you good?” and he mumbled “yeh…” then snored 0.5 seconds later. 

he now refers to your playlist as the “ultimate sleep cheat code.” 

uses it on nights when even he feels too lazy to fall asleep naturally. 

“just play the thing. the lo-fi cowboy drug one.” 

weirdly enough, he becomes your personal sleep ambassador. 

you bring it up once around the blue lock team and he goes “it’s like being gently sedated by cloud ninjas. 10/10 experience. would die again.” 

if you’re gone and he can’t sleep, he’ll text: nagi: can you send the playlist nagi: the one that knocks me out nagi: i’m twitching like a windows xp shutdown screen over here 

has lowkey gotten emotionally attached to it. if someone else tries to play sleepy phonk, he gets offended. “no. only she can do that. it’s different.” 

bachira meguru

bachira thinks it’s funny as hell. 

“i’m like a dog with a whistle. only this one is a sleepy cowboy beat.” 

the first time he heard it, he got weirdly invested. like “oohh this is a vibe! what’s it called?” proceeds to pass out mid-groove like a light. 

you turn around and he’s in the fetal position under the table. 

he wakes up grinning like “that was so fun!! what happened?? do it again!!” 

he starts treating it like a carnival ride. asks you to “put him to sleep” like it’s a magic trick. 

“close the curtains, bring me a snack, and hit me with that sleep sauce 🛌🧃✨” 

you accidentally make him fall asleep in public once (you were just playing it on your phone during a train ride) and he collapses onto a stranger’s shoulder. 

you’re mortified. he wakes up three stops later, bows and goes “thank you for being my pillow today :)” 

he names the playlist. something like: “cowboy dream juice vol. 1 💀🐴✨” 

sometimes tries to rap over it and see how long he can stay awake. his record is one minute and 14 seconds. 

“this music is like a lullaby made by sleepy ghosts on synths. i love it.” 

© 𝐤𝐱𝐬𝐚𝐠𝐢

[ablobwhowrites]

I feel that player is now abnormally advanced then any human because of what happens at playtime co making them learn how to fight, code, react abnormally fast, survive toxic gas, survive without eating for long periods of time, hold breath without passing out, carry HEAVY item that even bodybuilders would have trouble with all that good stuff

I honestly love this though cause imagine when y/n is hangout with friends (don't worry the toys are being babysat by y/n's grandparents) and going to some kind of pop up arcade and y/n doing that punch power game and ended up physically breaking it and their friends are just standing there shocked at how this motherfucker just broke that machine. Also imagining like y/n just doing the almost heaviest set of bench presses they can do also imagining like once y/n's friend lost sometimes under a car and y/n is like. "Oh I got it" and lifts the far up so y/n's friend can just crawl under and grab it. Also imagining that they challenge y/n to a arm wrestle and immediately lose and y/n's just wondering if their friends are just pulling a prank or letting him win as a joke but it's not, it's cause y/n is just so god damn strong from having to survive the factory and do almost having every single near life and death experience known to man, like having to be fast at reacting cause of how many hostile things where in that factory. Having to starve and basically go on long periods without food and water cause most of the water down there is probably contaminated with something cause no way it's clean.

Then having to survive toxic has and the same has that is a high level explosion device also pending with basically almost being eaten alive by other staving things in playtime co that have given y/n long lasting scars and major blood loss because what I said, there is absolutely no way they are coming out unscathed without like any wounds and pretty sure they may have unchecked broken or fractured bones. Also being electrocuted is one to because of the doctor and that one trap basically sending god knows how many volts through y/n's body cause the grab pack holds on for a pretty good almost minute. Plus dragging those heavy ass boxes like nothing and you have to build some crazy leg strength and even without the grab pack pretty sure their arms are probably jacked to because of how much they use the grab pack that requires your arms and to physically use your arms for every function of the grab pack plus so much more that basically makes them a beast cause I imagine no other person surviving that.

I don't imagine sometimes y/n uses his fast reaction skills to try and keep things from falling off or some like that but the object just doesn't fall but y/n being already prepared to catch something ends up looking likes their going crazy. Bro need to catch up on a lot of sleep cause I know they ain't processing things normally and is still on survival mode at this point.

(that's it for my yap session. If you like this please don't feel shy and request any ideas for y/n's or stories. But for now please stay safe and drink water!)

[bogleech]

Okay there's ONE idiot more idiotic than the hepa guy maybe and it's this person who describes my "political ideals" as "evil." ???? Like which ideals are they even thinking about? Because I expect equal identical and absolute freedom of expression (ie, zero government interference against any speech or media) for all human beings without exception, nobody should have to go to prison if they didn't actually hurt or attempt to hurt someone, everyone's medical needs should be cared for, everyone should be able to afford food and water and a home, people shouldn't be blown up with bombs for where they currently live, people shouldn't be profiled by their government as potentially dangerous based on where they came from, individuals shouldn't be able to amass uselessly obscene amounts of wealth and power by gaming a system they alone created and maintain, people shouldn't be able to influence policy with their personal wealth and power, education should be free, nobody should be forcibly detained for any reason other than violence/abuse of other people, prisons shouldn't be for-profit labor factories, disabilities should be accommodated, energy should be as clean and efficient as it can be, I think that's basically it. I think that's every "political ideal" I have and any other you could think of falls within one of those things. Which ones are evil and scary to you lil' buddy. Maybe you should analyze why? Because you probably want most of the same things but you just call them something else or you believe the way to do it conflicts with the way you assume I want to do it, which isn't even something I've ever asserted because there are in fact multiple paths to all of those things if you're not a moron.

[bluetimeombre]

⋆.ೃ࿔*:･ I could've lost you

After a particularly harrowing mission, Logan can't let you go.

(I was going through my drafts and I found this that I never posted?! Like, wtf. It’s short but it’s something to be out there as I slowly return to my Marvel era, it feels magical. It’s short, it’s not proof read but it’s yours. I hope you like!)

Tw: mention of injury, child death, suggestive but not smut,

⋆⁺₊⋆ ━━━━⊱༒︎ • ༒︎⊰━━━━ ⋆⁺₊⋆ ⋆⁺₊⋆ ━━

The jet landed on the grounds, Charles, Ororo, Scott and Logan waiting. It was supposed to be an easy thing, checking a factory, finding mutants, but you and Jean- the most powerful of mutants- were outnumbered, hurt.

Ororo was first at the steps. Logan couldn't find his feet to rush to you. His brain screamed go, go, go but he froze. What if you need him and was froze?

Jean stumbled out first, her head wrapped up. He watched as Scott ran to her, catching her in his arms, kissing her head and rubbing her back, soothing her and loving her slogan should you!

They didn't spare him a glance as they walked by him, even as he watched them, begging silently to have you in his arms.

Logan looked back to the jet. Where were you? 'Y/N!' Finally he managed to find his feet and used them to carry him up the stairs. 'Y/n?' he could hear his own voice, fragile and afraid. He'd heard you on the comms, you were shaky but alive.

Why couldn't he see you?

'Logan?'

He whipped around.

You were curled up in a corner, knees to your chest.

Logan crouched and approached you the way one would approach a snarling animal. He crawled to you, fingers tracing the leather on your knee before cupping it and squeezing. 'Hey, you had me worried.' He smiled at you, to show everything was alright.

You glanced up, the circles under your eyes were pronounced like dark moons. You skin was pale, your hands trembling. 'Logan?'

He smiled, hand cupping the back of your neck and soothing his thumb over the shivering skin. 'Hi baby.'

You lips tilted into something like a smile. 'Bad mission.'

'I know, bub, I know,' he soothed, bringing you close to press a kiss to your head. 'Are you hurt?'

'My head,' you mumble.

Gently, Logan takes your cheeks in hand and turns you side to side, trying to find any blood or a source of the bleeding. There was nothing. He concluded you had a headache which he’d get you checked on eventually.

'What do you want, bub?' he tucked strands of your hair behind your ear.

You smiled up at him, life blooming in your cheeks. 'A bath. Bed. You.'

He chuckled and kissed your lips. They were dry and rough but yours. 'That, I can do.'

Logan had ran a bath for you and striped you from your leathers. He watched as you settled under the bubbles, moaning at the feel of the water just as you like it. Heck, he'd put those petals in just so you'd smell good and feel relaxed.

Logan knew you. Everything about you. And if you were sad, even for a fraction of a second, he'd spend all day making you smile, he’d do anything to make you happy.

He was kneeling next to the tub, watching you bathe with a gaze similar to stars in his eyes. Watching the rise and fall of your chest and how your eyes closed in peace, he felt peace himself. His fingers would dip into the water, sending ripples but he hadn’t joined you… yet.

'You're staring,' you whisper, peeking one eye open to look at him. Strands of your hair stuck to your skin.

'You're so beautiful,' he replied. 'I don't tell you that enough.'

You roll your head to stare at him. 'You tell me everyday.'

'Not enough,' he smiled softly. The kind of smile only you brought out in him. 'Wanna talk about the mission?'

He knew you'd tell if you wanted to. It was the sort of way you could coax anything from him. When he'd had a tough day you'd be there just as he needed. He took anger out, pushing you into the bed and moaning at your pleasure. But this, watching you find peace, offered him just as much pleasure.

You wrap your fingers around his wrist, counting the beats of his pulse. ‘I was afraid,' you whispered.

Logan stared and waited for more.

You'd never admitted to being afraid before.

'We'd only see two kids. Dead. They'd been shot in... Cryo sleep or something. But Jean, something hurt her and I stayed, tried to help her out but it was so dark and there was screaming. I-I think children were dying.'

'There was nothing you could have done,' Logan said. He didn't need to know more. You made it home safe, selfishly to him, that's all that mattered.

'I could've helped them, Jean told me to but I- I wanted to save her. For myself. For Scott- I dunno,' you continued. 'I put her in the jet and I went back but-'

He wanted to critique you for going alone, but he'd do that later.

You looked at him, hoping to find judgment, to know that what you did was wrong, but you only found his soft gaze. 'The children were gone. It was so dark and I-I was so afraid. Afraid i'd never see you again. That if I didn't get back, that'd be it. And I- I couldn't, I-'

Logan took your head and pulled it into his chest. He let you hear the steady thump of his heart, let you wet his shirt from the bath and from tears. 'I'm glad the fear brought you home.'

You looked up at him, frowning.

Logan dragged his thumb over your bottom lip. 'I want to let the world burn if it means you come back to me. I'd let the whole fucking universe go to see you for one more day. If you were afraid in there and that brought you to me then be afraid all the time. Y/n, I can't live without you. And i'm never gonna you hear me?'

'Logan, our job-' you start.

'Our job is too each other, isn't that what we promised?' he said.

You smiled at the memory. There was no golden band on his finger but there was the promise the two of you had made together. The promise that before being mutants came your love for each other.

'You come before everything, and everyone,' he added.

'I could've saved them,' you mutter, shaking your head and averting your gaze.

The water sloshed as he got closer to you, arms holding you. His shirt was slowly splashing with the disturbance he was causing. 'Then I would've been lost. You'd be dead and you'd have taken me with you.'

A tear slid down your cheek and he collected it with a kiss.

'You and me till the end, baby.'

His lips walked the path he'd created over your skin. From your cheek to your jaw to your lips. His tongue ran along your lips, darting in to feel you alive and with him.

Your arms wrapped around his neck, bringing him in. He shuddered at the water that ran down his neck but trembled at your kiss. 'I need you, Lo.'

'I know, baby,' he mumbled. He pecked your lips, and each cheek, where he felt your pulse in your neck and then brought himself back to you.

You pulled him into the bath, the water sloshing over as he fell in. His beater stuck to him and his jeans soaked up the bath. But you laughed and he watched you, adoringly.

'Trouble,' he mumbled before squeezing your neck and bringing you into his body, relishing in the feeling of you bending under his body, of your finger skirting his stomach as you peeled his shirt from him and tossed it, letting it splat somewhere.

'Charles is going to be so mad we flooded the bathroom again,' you giggled.

Logan pulled back, licking your bottom lip. 'Don't mention Chuck when i'm about to make love to you baby.'

And he kissed you and drank the water from your skin and vowed to love you forever.

[pityroadart]

Here's my piece for the @mcspirkevents Big Bang! I was paired with the excellent @twinkboimler and their fic Jim Kirk's Guide to Delivering the Goods, which you can find here (E, AOS McSpirk, 60k)

Summer just started, and Jim is bored out of his mind. The courses he needs to take aren’t being offered until the second half of the summer, so he has an entire month to bother his roommate Bones. At Bones’ suggestion to get a job, Jim fixes up a motorbike and starts making deliveries to people in town, including a cute Vulcan professor named Spock. But when Jim is beaten up while making a delivery, it’s Spock who delivers Jim back to the apartment he shares with Bones. After the meet-cute from hell, Spock and Bones start dating… and so do Jim and Spock. With neither roommate aware they’re both dating the same man, there’s only so long that things can go well for them before the other shoe finally drops.

Also as part of my Big Bang offerings, I made a fic playlist (below) — partly a love letter to McSpirk, partly a love letter to myself and Fletcher's overlapping music taste.

Thank you again to Fletcher @twinkboimler for working on this project with me, it's been an absolute joy!

Until the Birds Return on Spotify

Tracks and choice lyrics below the cut (contains vague spoilers):

Astronaut | Future Crib

I wanna be an astronaut Fly into space I wanna see Mars from Venus I wanna go to that place And if you come with me They'll be room in my ship I'll take you up there with me It can be just you and me

Afraid of Heights | boygenius

I never rode a motorcycle I never smoked a cigarette I wanna live a vibrant life But I wanna die a boring death

Day by Day | Old Sea Brigade

Time and time again, I think I'm falling through space And I wake up in my bed just sweating in sheets

... Then I think of you growing old and it breaks my heart

Factories | Autoheart

When you found my body by the lake You wasn't sure if I was still alive

You and Your Friend | Snake River Conspiracy

Must we go run through our lives with our eyes closed To the loving happiness that we can share I think I'm in love with you and your friend

My Gal, My Guy | Darlingside

My (guy) he's the bluest ocean, (he) Waits under the bluest sky for me I belong to (him) When I'm in the water

Santa Fe | Autoheart

Heaven sent You were like a present I should not have kept A sticker on your forehead saying 'breakable And I broke you bad

Coat on a Hook | The National

Two days, we're still not talking You're the opposite of an open book Come back for me

Top to Toe | Fenne Lily

So I'm changing all my days To make your nights It's just not right

Pigeon Song | Patrick Wolf

Now the pigeons gather 'round my feeding hand And we talk 'til the evening fades I have learnt how it goes What you wait for never shows And what you least wanted, holds you down like a stone

Hornets | The National

But I don't wanna leave And I don't wanna hide I just don't wanna run Into you tonight

Tea, Milk & Honey | Oh Pep!

If you stick with me, I'll make sure your time is all right If you don't understand where I am now, it's better if we leave it

The Spiritual | Jukebox the Ghost

We might have kissed a bit too soon I could feel what was coming and I didn't mean to hurry you I just knew that time would find our fingers linked, through and through Forgive me, I'm human too

Bike Dream | Rostam

Two boys, one to kiss your neck And one to bring you breakfast Get you out of bed

Don't Go | Yazoo

Can't stop now Don't you know I ain't never gonna let you go

Jenny | The Mountain Goats

I hopped on back of the bike, wrapped my arms around you I sank my face into your hair And then I inhaled as deeply as I possibly could You were sweet and delicious as the warm desert air And you pointed your headlamp toward the horizon We were the one thing in the galaxy God didn't have his eyes on 900 cc's of raw whining power, no outstanding warrants for my arrest

Old Old Fashioned | Josh Ritter (Frightened Rabbit cover)

Oh let's get old fashioned Back to how things used to be If I get old, old fashioned Would you get old, old fashioned with me?

[k-hippie]

A BRAND NEW SIMS 3 WORLD : SHETLAND HARBOUR

And here we are ... At last :D

10 years ago, Rope crafted a remarkable world, inspired by Starlight Shores, and generously given away to the community : Brightwater.

We embraced this gift, transforming and reshaping it, creating an island to eliminate distant terrain, and thus, Shetland Harbour was born ...

While many creators have fashioned stunning Sims 3 worlds with a Northern charm—like Saaqartoq, Greymont Bay, Lillebror, or Plymouth Isles—ours, stands a little apart.

Shetland Harbour is a unique blend : a touch of Aurora Skies, a hint of Moonlight Falls, and a dash of the unfortunate Barnacle Bay, all interwoven with our own vision of course. It is a vast yet easily navigable world, balanced between lightness and richness, featuring nearly all the Rabbit Holes the game offers.

Our aim was to craft a cohesive and vibrant world, one that feels alive and contemporary, with harmonious architecture and a spirit that invites exploration and delight :)

Welcome to Shetland Harbour, a picturesque coastal town nestled between rolling green hills and a fantastic bay … It is a beautiful medium/large-sized world, a community nestled on its own secluded island, accessible only by ferry. The town is known for its charming cobblestone streets, a vibrant fish market, and a rich history dating back centuries, dotted with quaint cottages, a bustling coast, and a grand lighthouse standing guard at the harbor’s entrance ...

This hidden gem is a haven for sheep, but don't let that fool you – Shetland Harbour is far from a sleepy place. With its rich maritime history, the town offers a unique blend of tradition and vibrant local culture.

Designed to capture the essence of a northern European island, Shetland Harbour offers a self-contained community with 100 lots in total : 65 residential lots + 35 community lots. Each Lot ( except the Old Renovated Factory ) is fully furnished.

In addition, there are multiple sheep ( all by Murfeel ) fields here and there – the latter being especially dear to the local culture, a close-knit community, where the ocean's presence is always felt and the simplicity of rural life is celebrated.

Shetland Harbour combines a lively downtown with peaceful suburbs and serene neighborhoods, featuring quaint cottages, charming gardens, and scenic paths through lush greenery.

The town's historic churches, like Old Church, Albert Church or Lux Chapel, are steeped in tales of ancient rituals and ghostly apparitions ... Albert Church, built on a Druidic site, is haunted by druid spirits, while Lux Chapel is known for the ghost of a sailor, seen on stormy nights ...

The mysterious stone circle inside the Graveyard, Ghost Place, adds to the island's mystical allure. Rumored to be a portal to another realm, it activates during celestial alignments, with visitors reporting strange occurrences. Town elders speak of a prophecy foretelling the return of ancient spirits and the awakening of the island's mystical powers. Signs include a rare star alignment, the stone circle's awakening, and three chosen individuals with the island's ancient bloodline ...

• Harbor Bay : The central feature of Shetland Harbour is its expansive bay. The bay is a natural harbor with calm, crystal-clear waters, making it ideal for fishing and sailing. It is surrounded by gently sloping hills and cliffs that provide stunning vistas of the sea. The marina is bustling with fishing boats, sailboats, and yachts sometimes … It’s the hub of maritime activity, with a fish market ( aka Grocery Store ), boat repairs, and a sailing club ( aka Business and Journalism Center )

• Lighthouse District : Right beside the Harbour, stands the Lighthouse Point, this district features historical homes and buildings, including a Norman cottage, a strange Diner and higher into the Hills, a fantastic museum dedicated to the town’s maritime history and a recent Hospital ready to welcome all the citizens of Shetland Harbour :)

• Beaches : The Coastline is dotted with sandy beaches, perfect for beachcombing, picnics, and bonfires. These areas are popular spots for locals and tourists alike. And you may want building some Coastal Houses for your Sims which is possible almost all alongside the sea ;)

• Old Town : The heart of Shetland Harbour is the Old Town, characterized by cobblestone streets, historic buildings, and a charming town square. Shetland Harbour's downtown area is a kinda picturesque pedestrian square, and quaint paths perfect for leisurely strolls …The Old Town includes the Town Hall, the Old Toad, the Talking Dog, a Fish and Chips, and even a Geek Store, all of them under the shadow of one of the oldest shop of the Island : the Elixirium ...

• Rolling Hills : Surrounding the town are rolling green hills covered in wildflowers and dotted with grazing sheep. These hills are perfect for hiking and offer panoramic views of the town and the bay. Beware of the fog !

• Forests and Woodlands : To the north of the town are more dense forests and woodlands with waterfalls upstream of the river which separates part of the island. These areas are home to various wildlife and provide a natural retreat for the residents. There are several well-maintained trails for hiking and exploring :)

Come and explore Shetland Harbour all your content ... Whether you're building your dream home, running a local business, or simply soaking in the serene atmosphere, this unique town promises endless possibilities and a truly captivating experience ...

Download Shetland Harbour today and start your new adventure!

\o/

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

IMPORTANT : Before downloading Shetland Harbour !!!

Shetland Harbour contains custom content. As much as we try to include them into the world building process, we learned with time the necessity of providing a list those items. No worries, we used the same cc creators as usual and added 2 or 3 more. Such as the grey/dark roof we made, based on the terracotta roof of the game and the Wood walls you'll find on different lots, the same as the ones of Oaksoak Hollow ... Or more important, the boats used in the world and of course ... The sheeps ! All you need should be included and/or available down here ;)

1) the ANTS & CC :)

ANTS stand for Absolute Necessary Things & Stuff to enjoy Shetland Harbour :)

Download ANTS and CC ( both are needed to have all the right textures, the right look and feel of Shetland Harbour )

You will need too some of our Rabbit Holes

Not mandatory but nice : our 88 Patterns mostly brick, masonry, concrete and wood ;) A bit of fabric & paper too ...

ATTENTION : if you have played with one of our Worlds, you might see duplicate files. We try to use the same objects as much as possible. Of course, you don't have to install twice. Skip whatever you already have. We use Blams objects for some Sims 3 objects ... so if you already have those objects from any other means, just skip ;)

CREDITS & THANKS due to all the following creators :

ATS, Noir and Dark Sims, pitheinfinite, Brunnis-2, Blams, CycloneSue, HydrangeaChainsaw, Leroy157, Lisen801, Murfeele, Nilxis, PotatoBalladSims, Qahne, TheJim07, Mammut ( from BlackSimsZoo ) BlueCoco, BuffSumm, JomSims, Ladesire, Mutske

2) the Saved Games

They are in the same page than Shetland Harbour itself. You have the choice between Unpopulated and Half-populated. Whatever you choose, we always strongly advice with a save game ;) But as far we know, once we delivered a World, it is entirely up to you to begin a new adventure and make your own challenges with your own Sims :D

Download a save game

3) the Lots ( both residential & community )

Quite a bursting town, Shetland Harbour has 100 lots : 65 residential and 35 community and very important : many small sheep fields ( visitors not allowed com lots )

Download ALL the lots

Some lots are Maxis ones we modified, some lots are our own creations, and for the others, they come mostly from MTS ;) And we are very grateful to those creators who always offer a special flavor to our Worlds :)

CarlDillynson - Bellakenobi - Bast - MySimRealty - stonee206 - Norn - Cutbacks - Ferguson Avenue - SimplySimlish - hazelnutter100 - PolarBearSims - RubyRed2021 - CircusWolf - Moihi - Lasciel

Well, it is time for discovery now and you are ready for sure ! We wish you all the best, all the fun with your new life in Shetland Harbour !

Download Shetland Harbour World

PS : Shetland Harbour is a medium/large sized world of 88MB, and has been tested 1 week long on both Mac and Pc ;)

xoxo - blackgryffin