#because he's a software engineer LMAO

[mhaikkun]

Recently I've gotten really into making visual novel type games using ren'py since I decided yes, I will make a mini video game for my animation final despite having no prior coding experience and it is much easier than it looks tbh

I've been working on a visual novel too!!!! I don't post as many updates on tumblr but I DO have an official twitter account for it and my ko-fi members get a bunch of perks like seeing all the sprites and CGs~! it's called crime city and you can romance 10 different criminals :3c

you can choose your own pronouns and date anyone you like as well!

I just started toying with the art school idea today while idly daydreaming about what kinds of visual novels I wish I could play

for anyone who's been second-guessing making their own dating sim or visual novel, it's actually much simpler than you think thanks to programs like ren'py! there are a bunch of tutorials online that made it absurdly easy to figure it out. I would say the most challenging parts of it (for me anyway) is drawing all the environments and backgrounds and writing a cohesive story with good routes!

[cheftsunoda]

Heyy! I love all your fics, they are soooo good! Could you maybe write one where y/n is max fewtrells little sister and landos race engineer but media is being mean to her and saying that she just got the job cause she's a woman and that she doesn't deserve it. So lando has to step in and then they fall in love. If you don't like this you could just ignore it but I'd love to read it:)

not on my watch — ln4

smau + blurbs

lando norris x !race engineer reader

it started shortly after the mclaren announcement was posted— 'yn fewtrell has been named lando norris’ race engineer for the 2025 season.' the internet erupted—accusations of nepotism, blatant sexism, and outrage that they’d hand the job to a 24 year old woman. they don’t know you built half the strategy software they rely on. they don’t know you graduated at 19 and haven’t made a wrong call since. they don’t know lando trusts you more than anyone else on the team. this season, you’re done staying quiet. you’re going to prove them all wrong. even if it means falling for the one person you were never supposed to.

fc : lissie mackintosh

(a/n) : hellooooo mi vida <3 thank you for the love on my work! i appreciate you sm. sorry this took so long but i hope you enjoy 🧚🏻

also i love writing like the engineering side of things. my dad is a retired race engineer and he taught me everything i know and is the reason for my love of the sport. there is your fun fact of the day;) enjoy !

—

mclaren & yn_fewtrell

liked by lando, maxfewtrell, zbrownceo & 7,110,011 others.

mclaren : Please welcome YN Fewtrell as Lando Norris’ new race engineer for the 2025 season. Brilliant, fearless, and ready to lead from the pit wall. Let’s go win some races. 🧡

—

view 772,000 other comments.

username000 : ok but she’s actually a genius? she BUILT half their strategy models. stay mad.

username00 : this is history and y’all don’t even know it yet. she’s gonna run the whole grid one day.

username0 : nepotism is alive and well I see 😐

username1 : she’s 24 and in charge of race strategy?? lmao. hope Lando likes DNFing.

↳ lando : keep my wife’s name out of your FUCKIN mouth.

liked by yn_fewtrell and maxfewtrell

↳ lando : i literally begged her to take the job. she had about a dozen offers for other teams. she is smarter than the whole paddock put together.

liked by yn_fewtrell, maxfewtrell, mclaren and oscarpiastri

zbrownceo : Brilliant mind. Cool under pressure. Unshakable. Couldn’t be prouder. Let’s do this.

liked by mclaren and yn_fewtrell

↳ username5 : you’ll regret this 2 races into the season.

oscarpiastri : I thought I knew the science behind F1…and then I met YN…and she made me question everything. Congratulations, YN! We are happy to have you.

liked by mclaren, yn_fewtrell, maxfewtrell and lando

maxfewtrell : Such a proud big brother moment. Go show them just how genius you are, sis! 🤧🧡

liked by mclaren, yn_fewtrell and lando

pietra.pilao : literally the most intelligent person in the world! no one deserves this more🥺 I LOVE YOU YNNNNN

liked by yn_fewtrell, maxfewtrell and lando

lando : no one can wrangle me like this one. let’s make history together bub!!

liked by yn_fewtrell, mclaren and oscarpiastri

username17 : Hiring women just to look good, not to win races. Disgraceful.

↳ yn_fewtrell : funny how the people questioning my ability never mention the races i have helped win. maybe instead of whining about my gender, you should learn how to actually win. see you on the podium—if you can keep up. 🧡

liked by maxfewtrell, lando, mclaren, pietra.pilao and oscarpiastri

↳ maxfewtrell : ATE

liked by lando and yn_fewtrell

username37 : Just here to watch her fail and disappear. It’s not like she’s actually qualified.

↳ lando : talk shit get hit. you’re out here bullying a woman behind a keyboard while she stays winning and getting paid.

liked by yn_fewtrell and maxfewtrell

username45 : Bet she got the job ‘cause Max begged, not because she earned it.

↳ maxfewtrell : lando doesn’t even like me that much, if I would’ve asked he would’ve said no.

↳ lando : TRUTH

username55 : This is why F1 is a joke now. Giving a 24-year-old woman a crucial race engineer role? Please. Next, they’ll have kids driving cars.

↳ maxfewtrell : This comment is exactly why she’s needed. You clowns scream about F1 being a joke, but the real punchline is you thinking your fragile ego matters more than her qualifications. She’s 24, a genius, and running circles around engineers twice her age. Stay pressed.

liked by yn_fewtrell and lando

—

You’re not sure why your palms are sweaty. You’ve given technical presentations in front of FIA directors. You’ve rebuilt a predictive model with zero sleep and one cracked laptop. You’ve told grown men twice your age their simulations were wrong—and then proved it. But this? Sitting across from Zak Brown and the McLaren technical director with your name printed at the top of an official offer letter? This feels different.

“Relax,” Zak says, grinning like he’s already picturing you on the pit wall. “You’re not in trouble. Unless being a genius is suddenly against the rules.”

You crack a smile. Just a small one. The technical director slides the contract toward you. You already know what it says. But seeing it in writing makes your heart skip anyway.

“We want you in the role officially,” Zak says. “You’ve been running the backend strategy models, fixing everyone’s messes from behind the curtain, and honestly? It’s long overdue.”

“I thought I was too young,” you say carefully. “Too… controversial.”

Zak leans forward, elbows on the table. “You graduated at 19. You built the race strategy AI we still use today. You predicted the Qatar safety car last season three laps before it happened. You’ve saved Lando’s race more times than we can count. If you were anyone else—any guy, with ten more grey hairs—we wouldn’t even be having this conversation. You’d already be in that seat.”

Your throat tightens a little. You swallow it down.

“We know what people are going to say,” the tech director adds. “The media will be brutal. The ‘nepotism’ headlines, the ‘diversity hire’ comments. It’s coming.”

“I know,” you say softly. “But they’re wrong.”

Zak nods. “Exactly. And I want them to say it. Loudly. So we can prove them wrong. Publicly.”

There’s a long pause. The kind where everything shifts—where it all becomes real.

“Lando asked for you, by the way,” Zak says, almost offhand. “Said he’s never trusted anyone more with his race or his car.”

That stops you. You blink. Look back down at the paper. You knew you’d earned this. But hearing that? It hits different. You pick up the pen. And for the first time since walking into the room, you let yourself smile—full, bright, certain.

“Let’s go win some races.”

—

Dinner at Max’s flat was always a bit of a circus. Pietra’s voice filled the kitchen as she narrated her sauce recipe like a cooking show. Max was burning the garlic bread while insisting he knew what he was doing. And Lando? Lando was sitting at the end of the counter, one arm slung casually over the back of his chair, stealing olives out of the bowl you were supposed to be using for the salad. You’d missed this.

The normalcy. The teasing. The fact that no one was looking at you like you were about to become the most talked about person in the paddock.

“You’re being suspicious,” Max says, pointing a fork at you as he slides into his seat at the table.

“I’m literally just existing,” you reply.

Pietra hums. “No, he’s right. You’ve had a look all evening. Like you’re hiding something.”

You glance at Lando. He doesn’t say anything, but he raises one eyebrow, a silent challenge. He’s been patient with you the last few weeks. Supportive, even while everyone else kept asking what team you were going to sign with. Mercedes had called. Ferrari had emailed. Even Red Bull made an offer. You’d kept it to yourself, waiting for the right moment. Tonight was the right moment.

You take a slow sip of your wine. “So… I signed.”

The room goes silent. Max straightens in his chair like you just told him you were pregnant. “What?”

Pietra claps her hands. “With who?!”

Lando freezes. The olive he was about to eat drops back into the bowl. “Wait. Seriously? You signed?”

You nod slowly, drawing it out. “Yep.”

Max leans forward, eyes wide. “Okay, well—Ferrari?”

You shake your head.

“Mercedes,” Pietra tries, gasping dramatically. “You’d look hot in silver.”

You smile, still silent. Lando’s eyes haven’t left your face. He looks nervous. Hopeful.

“I signed with McLaren,” you say finally. “Race engineer for Mr. Norris.”

And then—Chaos. Pure Chaos.

“YESSSSS!” Pietra screeches, nearly knocking over her wine.

Max throws a napkin in the air like it’s confetti. “I KNEW IT! I KNEW YOU’D STAY!”

Lando lets out a breath like he’s been holding it for three years. He covers his mouth with one hand and laughs.

“You’re joking,” he says, eyes wide. “You’re actually serious?”

“I signed the contract this morning,” you reply, grinning. “Zak just let them put out the announcement.”

Max is on his feet in seconds, pulling you up into a bear hug. “I’m so proud of you,” he says into your hair, voice suddenly a little thick. “They have no idea what’s coming.”

Pietra joins the hug, wrapping her arms around both of you. “We’re going to make shirts that say ‘fewtrell dominance could bore fans.’”

You laugh into her shoulder. “Please don’t.”

When you finally break away, Lando’s still sitting, eyes soft, lips twitching like he’s trying to hide how relieved he is.

“You okay over there?” you tease.

He stands, coming to stand just in front of you. “I’m great. I’m—actually, I’m really happy.”

You nod, trying to keep your voice even. “You sure you can handle me screaming strategy in your ear every Sunday?”

Lando grins. “Only if you promise to keep calling me out when I whine on the radio.”

You roll your eyes. “Deal.”

There’s a beat where no one says anything. Just you, standing a little too close to Lando in the middle of Max’s kitchen, your heart hammering for reasons that have nothing to do with the job. Max breaks the silence.

“So… do I need to have the talk now, or can I just trust that Lando will behave?”

Pietra gasps. “Max!”

Lando chokes on a laugh. “What?! Nothing’s even happening!”

You try to act innocent, but you’re smiling now—bright and open and a little bit full of something terrifyingly hopeful.

“Yet,” Max mutters, grabbing the garlic bread off the counter. “I’m watching you, Norris.”

You roll your eyes and steal a piece of bread. Because the truth is, you’re watching him too. And you’re not sure who’s more in trouble—you, for finally taking this job. Or Lando, for falling a little harder every time you say his name.

—

Later that night, the laughter fades into tired giggles, and the plates are mostly empty, wine glasses scattered across the table like a celebration that never wanted to end. Max and Pietra are curled up on the couch, half-asleep under a blanket and pretending they’re not eavesdropping. Which leaves you and Lando in the kitchen—cleaning up, sort of. Mostly moving things around and trying not to look like you’re just avoiding saying something.

He’s rinsing dishes at the sink, sleeves pushed up, curls slightly messy from running his hand through his hair too many times. You dry the plates beside him, stealing glances when you think he’s not paying attention. Of course, he is.

“You really had us going,” Lando says softly, finally breaking the silence. “Thought you were off to Ferrari or something.”

You shrug. “I could’ve. But… it never felt right. They wanted the title on my resume. McLaren actually wanted me.”

He smiles at that—wide and full of pride. “We’re lucky to have you. I mean that.”

There’s something heavy under his voice now. Not just pride. Something else.

“I meant what I said earlier,” he adds, rinsing the last glass. “I asked for you.”

You glance over at him. “I figured. Zak doesn’t subtlety drop things like that.”

Lando laughs under his breath, then grows quiet again. “It wasn’t just because you’re smart, or talented, or scary good at reading data. It’s because I trust you. And that’s rare for me.”

You look down at the towel in your hands, your voice barely above a whisper. “I trust you too.”

There’s a long pause. The kind where the air shifts. Where you both feel the question neither of you has dared to ask.

He looks over at you, searching. “Are you scared?”

You nod slowly. “A little. Not of the job. Just… everything else.”

His gaze softens, and he takes a step closer. Not quite touching, but close enough to feel the warmth between you.

“Whatever it is,” he says, voice low, “we figure it out together.”

You blink at him. Your breath catches, just a little.

“Even if Max threatens to murder you?” you joke.

Lando smirks. “Especially then.”

The moment hangs there—close, careful, charged. You want to kiss him. You have for years. It is definitely not the time now. But the thought is there, sitting between you, unspoken and inevitable.

Instead, he nudges your shoulder gently. “Come on. You’re off duty tonight. I’ll finish up.”

You hand him the towel and roll your eyes. “Don’t screw up the glassware, Norris.”

He grins, watching you walk out of the kitchen. And when he turns back to the sink, he’s still smiling—because for the first time in a long time, everything feels exactly where it’s meant to be.

—

Australia. Testing Day.

The paddock is humming like a heartbeat—fast, sharp, electric. You walk toward the garage with your headset in hand, credentials swinging around your neck, papaya polo fitted perfectly like it’s been yours all along. People glance as you pass, some with confusion, others with curiosity. You hear your name once or twice in passing—low whispers, half-question, half-gossip. You ignore all of it.

Because you’re not here to be liked. You’re here to run a car. McLaren’s garage is already alive when you step in. The smell of oil and tire rubber hits you first, followed by the warm buzz of quiet chaos. Engineers, mechanics, data analysts—moving like they’re part of a living machine.

Lando’s sitting in the car, helmet off, half-zipped race suit and that usual lazy grin stretched across his face.

“Morning, boss,” he says into the radio, teasing.

You settle into your seat on the pit wall like you’ve done it a thousand times. Calm. Focused. Headset on.

“Morning, Norris,” you reply coolly. “Try not to crash. I just got here.”

A soft laugh crackles through the comms. “No promises.”

Zak appears behind you, clapping a hand on your shoulder. “This is it,” he says, smiling. “Let’s show them why you’re here.”

You nod once and focus on the screen in front of you. Live telemetry scrolls across the monitor. Tire temps. Fuel load. Weather variance. You track it all with sharp, trained eyes.

Your voice is calm when it hits the radio. “Okay Lando, we’re doing a 12 lap run, softs, with gradual pace increase. I want full feedback on braking stability by lap 4. Let’s go.”

“Copy that,” he replies, voice lighter than it probably should be. “Lead the way, genius.”

And then the garage clears as the engine roars to life. He pulls out of the pit lane. The screens flicker to life, and the data begins to pour in. Sector times. Tire degradation. Wind resistance. The other engineers glance over at you—quietly impressed. By lap 5, you’re already adjusting the run.

“Box at the end of 8. Temps are creeping up faster than expected. Want to save the compound.”

“Copy,” Lando says immediately, without question.

By lap 9, he’s back in the garage. You’re waiting with a bottle of water and a raised brow.

“You’re .03 seconds off your previous best in Turn 11,” you say, casually handing it over. “What are you doing in there, admiring the desert?”

Lando takes the bottle, grinning. “Maybe I just like hearing you call me out.”

You roll your eyes, but there’s a flicker of a smile. The truth is—you’re in your element. The voices in the paddock might still whisper. The media might still doubt.

But on that pit wall, with your headset on and Lando behind the wheel, you’re exactly where you belong. Every call you make is sharp, every number you read makes sense, and the car? The car is singing. And by the end of the day? McLaren tops the timing sheets. Because this time, it’s not just about the car or the driver. It’s about you—and him—and the strategy that only the two of you can build together.

—

The garage is humming with the kind of energy only a race day can bring — tightly wound nerves, soft radio checks, the heavy scent of tire compound, and pure adrenaline wrapped in papaya orange. This time, it’s louder. Bigger. More intense. Because this is your first race. Your race. On the wall. Running the strategy. With the whole world watching. And they’re not just watching Lando. They’re watching you.

You barely hear the murmurs from the media pens—Let them talk. You’re too busy building a strategy that’ll make them eat every last word.

In the garage, Max and Pietra are chaos in human form.

Max is pacing in his McLaren cap like he’s the one driving, and Pietra is waving around a mini flag like it’s actually helping anything.

“Can she even breathe up there?” Pietra asks, looking up at the pit wall nervously.

“I don’t think she is breathing,” Max replies. “She’s calculating.”

Five minutes to lights out. You clip your headset on. Your screen shows Lando’s live data feed. Heart rate slightly elevated, but steady. Tire temps in ideal range. Track temp rising faster than expected.

“Alright, Norris,” you say into the mic, voice cool and even. “We’re sticking to Plan A. Clean start, protect the tires. You hold position in Turn 1 and don’t get spicy until after Lap 10. Copy?”

Lando’s voice crackles through the radio, playful even under pressure.

“Copy, boss. I’ll behave. Ish.”

The lights go out. And so does the paddock. Lando has a flying start.

Shoots past Leclerc like it’s personal, glues himself to P2 before Lap 2, and settles into a comfortable rhythm. You monitor everything. Grip levels. Crosswinds in Sector 2. Fuel consumption. Brake temps. Max is screaming into Pietra’s shoulder behind you. Pietra’s crying by Lap 5. “HE’S DRIVING SO WELL.”

You smile despite yourself. By Lap 17, you see it.

The Ferraris are chewing through their tires. The Red Bulls are too conservative on power. You run the numbers twice. Then a third time. You flick on the radio.

“Box this lap. Undercut window is open.”

Lando doesn’t question you. “Copy. Let’s do it.”

He dives in. The stop is flawless. 2.3 seconds. And when the others finally pit? He comes out in the lead. P1. The garage explodes.

Max is on his feet, yelling something incoherent about “NEVER DOUBTED HER FOR A SECOND.”

Pietra is crying again, but this time she had acquired a hat to cover her face. You stay calm. Mostly.

“Alright,” you say over the radio. “Lead car. Twenty four laps to go. Clear track ahead. I want clean air and zero drama. Think you can manage that, Norris?”

Lando’s voice is steady, but there’s a grin buried in it.

“For you? Anything.”

The last 10 laps are torture. DRS threats. Virtual safety car. A rogue yellow flag that nearly throws everything. Your hands are shaking, but your voice is steady. Every call is precise.

“Brake bias forward by 2 clicks.”

“Harvest more in Sector 3.”

“Hold them off. This is your race.”

And Lando? He drives like he’s on rails. Like every word you say is gospel. Lap 58. Final sector. You stand, fingers white around your headset, eyes locked on the monitor.

Lando crosses the line—

P1.

The radio crackles—

“WE DID IT!” he screams. “YN! WE FUCKING DID IT!*”

Your heart explodes in your chest. You cover your mouth with one hand, tears burning in your eyes before you even realize they’re there.

You press the button, voice breaking just slightly.

“You were perfect, Lando. That was all you.”

He doesn’t hesitate.

“No. That was us.”

The garage is mayhem. Mechanics hugging. Pit crew chanting your name. Zak running in from somewhere with champagne already in hand.

Max is sobbing into Pietra’s shoulder. “I KNEW SHE WAS A GENIUS. I KNEW IT.”

Pietra’s recording you with tears in her eyes and yelling, “YOU JUST BEAT HALF THE GRID WITH YOUR BRAIN.”

You take your headset off slowly, still stunned. And then you feel arms around you. Lando’s. He’s still in his fireproofs, sweat-soaked and grinning like he’s never smiled before. He doesn’t care who’s watching. He lifts you slightly off the ground as he hugs you.

“You were magic,” he whispers. “You made that happen.”

You pull back just slightly, your forehead resting against his. “And you made it look beautiful.”

He doesn’t dare to make a move. But his hands linger at your waist. His smile is soft. His eyes are only on you. And in that moment—surrounded by champagne, chaos, and the disbelief of everyone who ever doubted you—you know—This is only the beginning.

—

yn_fewtrell

liked by lando, maxfewtrell, pietra.pilao and 4,708,003 others.

yn_fewtrell : aus was fun, onto the next (p)one🫶🏻

tagged : pietra.pilao, maxfewtrell and lando

—

view 192,005 other comments.

lando : stole my french fries and my car, huh?

liked by yn_fewtrell

↳ yn_fewtrell : that is the price you pay when I lead you to a race win😁

liked by maxfewtrell and lando

↳ username00 : bitch one won race and made it her whole personality all ready. can’t wait to watch her fail.

mclaren : engineering excellence powered by french fries and gyros🧡

liked by yn_fewtrell

oscarpiastri : leave lando and be my engineer. i will give you all the french fries you want

liked by yn_fewtrell and lando

↳ lando : not happening oscarino. she is staying with me 🤭

username10 : how are you THIS smart, THIS cool, and still relatable

liked by yn_fewtrell

username000 : There are people with decades of experience who deserved that role. But sure, let the influencer do strategy.

username11 : If she really cared about the job, she wouldn’t be flirting with her driver. Unprofessional af.

username50 : She’s more concerned about photo dumps and outfits than race data. No wonder people think women don’t belong here.

username33 : Funny how she was handed this position and still makes it all about herself. Typical influencer behavior.

zbrownceo : Proud doesn’t even begin to cover it.

liked by yn_fewtrell and lando

—

It’s been eight weeks since Australia. Five races. Two wins. Three podiums. Zero strategy errors. One woman behind the radio. And somehow — none of it is enough.

You’re walking through the paddock before FP2, headset looped around your neck, data tablet pressed to your chest like armor. The McLaren polo clings to your skin in the heat, but you don’t notice. You’ve been sweating for hours, and not because of the sun. Every few steps, your name follows you like a curse. Not in congratulations. Not in respect. Just low, biting whispers.

“She only sounds smart on paper.”

“She’s riding Lando’s success like it’s hers.”

You walk faster. You don’t let it show — but God, it’s wearing you down. Quietly. Brutally. You haven’t opened Twitter in weeks. You scroll past Instagram comments like they’re burning. You stopped reading your tagged posts the day someone told you to “go back to fashion school” and said your first win was ��handed to her.”

It’s not the media. Not even the sexist podcasters with cropped beards and buzzwords. It’s everyone else. The silence from your colleagues when your name is mentioned. The sideways looks from rival teams when McLaren beats them on strategy. The fans who scream for Lando and ignore you completely — or worse, call you a distraction. And still, you show up. Every day. Every race. Every session. You make the calls. You hit the targets. You win. But today? Today feels thin. Like the ground beneath your feet is giving way just a little.

You take a long breath as you pass the Sky Sports camera crew, nod politely, hoping to keep walking — until one of them turns just slightly and says it loud enough for you to hear— 

“There goes Norris’ lucky charm.”

You stop. It’s not just the words — it’s the tone. Patronizing. Dismissive. Cruel in its casualness.

“Smart of McLaren to hire someone for optics. Keeps the headlines clean while he does the real work.”

Something cracks. Quietly. Deep in your chest. You turn your head — slowly, expression unreadable — and meet the reporter’s eyes.

“I suggest you rethink who’s doing the real work,” you say coolly, though your throat is tight. “I’m the one keeping his car in the points.”

Before he can respond, before he can smirk or backtrack or say something worse— A voice cuts in. Sharp. Dangerous. Familiar.

“Is there a problem here?”

You don’t have to turn to know who it is. You feel him before you see him. Lando. Still in his fireproofs, still flushed from the car, eyes hard and jaw tight.

The reporter chuckles, uncomfortable now. “Nothing at all. Just—complimenting your engineer.”

“Really? ‘Lucky charm’ doesn’t sound like a compliment to me. You are patronizing her.”

Lando steps between you and the reporter without hesitation, his voice low and lethal.

“You don’t get to belittle her work because it makes you uncomfortable. You don’t get to reduce her to some narrative you can sell. She’s the reason I’m winning. She makes the calls. She reads the race like it’s written in a language only she speaks. And if you can’t handle that—maybe you should just get the fuck out.” 

The silence is deafening. The reporter stammers something, but Lando doesn’t wait to hear it. He turns to you gently, expression shifting — still sharp, but soft in a way he reserves only for you.

“You okay?” he asks quietly.

You want to say yes. Want to tell him you’re fine. That it doesn’t matter. But your hands are trembling. And you’re so, so tired. He notices. Of course he does. Lando doesn’t say anything more — just steps closer, hand resting briefly on your back, shielding you as he leads you away. Out of the cameras. Out of the noise.

And even as your eyes sting, even as your chest aches with the weight of it all — there’s something steady about the way he walks beside you. Like a lifeline. Like a promise. You don’t say it yet. But you know. He’s in your corner. And when you can’t fight for yourself — Lando will.

—

It starts with the silences. Not the good kind—the ones you used to share in the garage after a long session, exhausted but grinning. Not the quiet that existed between looks and smirks and inside jokes that didn’t need explaining.

This silence is different. Colder. Heavier. Lando notices it first in the little things. The way you leave the debrief as soon as it ends. How you sit at the other end of the table during meals. How your messages have gone from memes and chaos to nothing but numbers and fuel loads. Professionally, you’re sharper than ever. Flawless. But the rest of you?

You’re fading.

He sees it. He’s been seeing it. And it’s not until the night before the Spanish GP, when you skip the post dinner team drinks without a word, that he makes a decision. He doesn’t text. Doesn’t knock and wait. He uses the keycard Zak made everyone take for security reasons, pushes into your suite quietly, and hears it immediately—

Not music. Not the TV. Just the soft rustle of curtains and the distant sound of you trying to breathe quietly. He finds you on the balcony.

Sitting on the floor, knees pulled up to your chest, forehead pressed against your arms. Shoulders shaking. The city lights stretching below you while the tears you’ve been holding back for weeks finally pour down your face. You don’t hear him at first.

Until the sliding door opens behind you and a soft voice says, “Hey.”

You flinch. “Lando—shit. I—I didn’t know you—”

You wipe your face furiously, still refusing to look at him.

“You should go,” you say quickly. “I’m fine. Just needed air—”

“You’re not fine,” he says gently, stepping onto the balcony. “And I’m not going anywhere.”

You try to joke. Deflect. “You’re not exactly dressed for an emotional breakdown—”

He sits beside you anyway. Cross legged, close enough for his shoulder to brush yours. Warm and present and so painfully there.

There’s a long silence. And then, softly—

“I don’t know what else I’m supposed to do, Lando.”

Your voice cracks. Finally.

“I do everything right. Every call. Every number. Every strategy. We’re winning, and I’m still losing.”

He doesn’t say anything—just waits.

“They’re never going to see me as more than your little sidekick,” you whisper. “Or Max’s sister. Or the girl who ruined the sport. And I’m so tired of pretending it doesn’t hurt.”

Your hands are trembling in your lap. He watches you struggle for air, for composure, for the strength you’ve worn like armor for months.

“I feel like I’m screaming into a void and smiling while I do it,” you admit. “Because if I stop being the girl who can handle it, then they win, right?”

Lando doesn’t speak for a moment. Then—

“I don’t want you to be the girl who can handle it,” he says quietly. “I want you to be the girl who’s allowed to feel it. Who’s allowed to break down on balconies. Who doesn’t have to carry it all alone.”

You look at him. Finally. And what you see isn’t pity. It’s rage. And hurt. And love—undeniably, plainly, terrifyingly there.

“Do you have any idea how much I admire you?” he asks. “Not just for what you do. But for how you survive in a world that tries so hard to push you out.”

Your eyes fill again.

“But I hate watching you shrink. I hate watching you pretend like the comments don’t get to you when I know they do.”

“I can’t let it show,” you murmur.

“You can,” he says. “With me, you can.”

He takes your hand. It’s not romantic. Not yet. It’s grounding.

“I need you to know something,” he continues, voice low and sure. “None of this—none of what we’ve built this season—works without you. Not the wins. Not the podiums. Not me.”

You press your lips together, fighting another wave of tears.

“But I need you to work too,” he says. “Not just the engineer. You. The person. And she deserves rest. And softness. And someone to sit with her on a balcony when she forgets how incredible she is.”

Your heart aches at how gently he says it. Like you’re made of glass. Like you’re allowed to fall apart.

“I don’t know how to let go,” you whisper. “I’ve been holding it all for so long.”

He squeezes your hand, his voice breaking just slightly. “Then let me help. Please.”

And you do. You let your head fall to his shoulder. You let the tears fall without apology. You let someone see you—not just as the brilliant, capable, unshakeable engineer they all expect—but as a person who’s tired and hurting and desperately in need of grace.

And Lando?  He doesn’t move. He stays beside you until the sun starts to rise. And when you finally speak again, voice hoarse but steadier than before, you say—

“I don’t want to do this without you.”

And he replies, without missing a beat. 

“You won’t have to.”

—

Race Day. Mid season. High pressure. Everything on the line. The garage is tight with tension. Dry air. Sharp voices. You can feel it pulsing through your headset like a storm trying to form. Lando’s in P3. The strategy is clean. You’ve run every scenario.

“Stick to Plan B,” you remind him calmly.

“We wait. The softs will come back to us. Hold position, and we pounce after lap 38.”

“Copy,” he says. But you can hear it — the edge in his voice. The hunger. The itch. Lando wants more. Too soon. You hear the switch in his tone by Lap 30. He’s pushing harder. Ignoring lift points. Going aggressive on the straights. And then—he says it.

“Box now. I’m undercutting.”

You sit bolt upright. “No. Lando—no. Tires aren’t ready. The window’s not open yet—”

Too late. He dives in. Pit crew scrambles. The stop is clean. But the re-entry isn’t. Traffic. Cold tires. He rejoins behind a cluster of midfield chaos. Loses time. Loses grip. Loses everything. You stand frozen, eyes on the screen as he drops from P3 to P9 in four laps. The garage is silent.

Your hands are clenched. You barely hear the commentary echoing from the monitors.

“That’s a brutal call from McLaren. Early stop puts Norris behind heavy traffic… was that a misread from the pit wall?”

Your headset is still on when the post-race headlines start posting in real time.

“MCLAREN STRATEGY ERROR COSTS NORRIS BIG FINISH.”

“YN FEWTRELL UNDER FIRE AGAIN AFTER RISKY CALL.”

“Norris’ engineer strikes out — questions rise around her future.”

You don’t even feel your legs as you pull off your headset. Don’t feel Zak’s hand on your shoulder. Don’t hear the apology Lando doesn’t say. You just walk out of the garage.

—

His hotel room. Just the two of you.

“I told you not to pit,” you say quietly, arms crossed over your chest, trying not to shake.

Lando looks at you like you’re the one who ruined it.

“I felt the grip dropping—”

“You disobeyed strategy. You disobeyed me.”

Your voice breaks, brittle and sharp. “And they’re blaming me for it.”

He runs a hand through his hair, pacing. “You don’t get it—”

“No, you don’t!” You snap. “I have spent every race protecting you. Protecting this team. Taking the hits so you don’t have to, and you go rogue the second it doesn’t feel perfect?”

“I’m the one in the car!” he fires back. “It’s my instinct—”

“It’s your ego, Lando.”

Silence. The kind that cuts. You look at him, really look at him — and it hits you. Hard. Too hard. You love him. You love him, and it’s eating you alive. And maybe the worst part? He doesn’t even see it. Not through the anger. Not through the noise. You turn toward the door, needing air. Needing anything.

“I don’t know how much more of this I can take,” you say, barely above a whisper. “I thought I could balance it all — the job, the team, you. But I’m drowning.”

Lando takes a step forward. “YN…”

You shake your head, eyes burning. “I need space.”

And this time, you mean it.

—

f1gossipgirls

2,570,110 likes.

f1gossipgirls : YN Fewtrell in talks with Red Bull??! Lando’s race engineer was seen meeting with Christian Horner this afternoon. She has faced a lot of criticism and backlash working with Mclaren. Will she stay with them?

—

The room is silent, save for the faint ticking of a sleek analog clock and the soft shuffle of pages as Christian Horner flips through your printed track performance portfolio like he’s browsing specs on a new wind tunnel component. He hasn’t said much in the last few minutes. Just let the numbers speak for themselves. You see your call sheets. Tire offset modeling. Degradation analysis. Win probabilities. All the things that made people outside the team mock you — and made people inside the paddock terrified of you.

“This,” Christian finally says, tapping a finger against your Australian GP strategy sheet, “was the best pit call I’ve seen in three years. And I’ve worked with Hannah for over a decade.”

You blink, caught off guard.

He smiles. “We see what you’re doing, YN. Some people only see Lando’s wins. I see who’s putting him in the position to take them.”

Your stomach turns slightly. You should feel proud. Grateful. Validated. But instead, it just makes your chest ache.

He leans back in the chair, lacing his fingers. “If you come here, you’ll be given autonomy. No headlines. No internal politics. No fighting for respect. Just results. And trust.”

You nod, slowly, unsure what to say. His voice is steady. His words, deliberate. Everything you thought you wanted—finally offered. And yet, there’s a pit in your stomach that only gets heavier.

The folder with your name on it sits in front of you, untouched. Contract terms. Role title—Head of Race Strategy.

It would be a promotion. A salary jump. A career-defining move.

But all you can think about is a voice in your headset saying “we did it.”

A hand brushing your back on the podium. A boy with a crooked smile and a voice that only ever softened for you.

—

Lando is exhausted. He hasn’t slept properly since the race. Since the fight. Since you walked out of his hotel room without a backward glance and took all the air with you.

He’s meant to be reviewing simulator data with the McLaren techs, but his head isn’t there. It hasn’t been for weeks. It’s back in that garage. That balcony. That hotel room. He runs a hand through his curls and turns a corner—And nearly bumps into Max Verstappen.

“Jesus—sorry, mate,” Lando mutters, distracted, already half past him.

Max doesn’t miss a beat.

“Hey,” he says, glancing down, “You might wanna keep your eyes up today.”

Lando blinks. “What?”

Max gives him a dry, amused look. The kind that says I know something you don’t.

“Just thought I’d let you know,” Max says, casually taking a sip of his drink. “Horner’s in a meeting right now with your engineer. Could be the last time you call her yours.”

Lando’s whole body stills.

“What?”

Max shrugs. “I mean… she’s good. We all know it. Wouldn’t blame her for jumping ship. You guys made it easy, yeah?”

Lando opens his mouth, but Max is already walking past him, throwing one last glance over his shoulder.

“She looked serious, by the way. Folder and everything.”

Lando’s pulse spikes. He doesn’t ask where. Doesn’t call Zak. Doesn’t wait for security or clearance or logic. He just runs.

Through the Red Bull corridors. Past the press room. Past engineers and assistants who do double takes as he flies by in his team hoodie, looking like he’s chasing something he should’ve protected weeks ago. And he is. Because this time, he might be too late.

—

The contract still sits unopened in front of you. You don’t know what you’re waiting for. Christian is mid-sentence again — something about finalizing negotiations after the summer break — when the door slams open so hard the glass rattles. You jolt in your seat. So does Horner. And then you hear it.

“What the fuck are you doing here?”

You look up and your heart stops. Lando. Flushed. Breathless. Hair a mess. McLaren hoodie halfway unzipped, curls damp with sweat. His eyes are locked on you, not even acknowledging Christian.

You push your chair back, stunned. “Lando—”

He doesn’t wait. He walks straight across the room, past the Red Bull logo, past the executive folders, straight to you.

“Come with me,” he says, voice rough. “Now.”

You hesitate for half a second, glancing at Christian. Christian sighs, clearly already over the dramatics. “Take your time.”

You follow Lando into the hallway, the door swinging shut behind you. The second it closes, he rounds on you.

“Why?” he says, voice sharp with confusion and something dangerously close to heartbreak. “Why would you do this? Why would you just leave?”

You open your mouth, but nothing comes out.

“Was I that awful to you?” he continues. “After everything—after what we’ve built—do I really make it that easy to walk away?”

“Lando, it’s not like that.”

“Then tell me what it’s like.”

His voice cracks on the last word. He’s begging now. And you can’t hold it in anymore. Your chest aches. Your eyes sting. Your hands are trembling.

You swallow hard. “Because I’m in love with you.”

He blinks.

You keep going. “Because I’ve been in love with you and pretending not to be for months. Because the second anyone even suspects we’re close, the hate triples. Because every race I sit beside you and make calls that win championships and people still say it’s all because I want your attention.”

Your voice is shaking now.

“And if I stay—and if this gets out—I know what they’ll say. That I seduced my way into the headset. That I only win because you let me. And I can’t—I can’t survive that, Lando.”

The silence that follows is deafening. Until he speaks. Softly. Carefully. Completely undone.

“You think I care about any of that?”

You shake your head, eyes blurring. “You should.”

“I don’t,” he says, stepping closer. “I’ve been in love with you since we were kids and I’ve been waiting for you to see it.”

You stop breathing.

“I have let people talk. I’ve watched them rip you apart online, in meetings, in commentary boxes. And you just kept showing up. Not for the glory. Not even for the team. For me. Because you believed in me.”

He’s in front of you now, so close your hands could just—reach.

“So if you’re scared, I’ll take the heat. If they want to come after us, let them. But don’t run away from what we’ve built just because they can’t handle a woman being better than all of them.”

You blink hard, the tears finally falling.

“I wasn’t trying to run from you,” you whisper.

He reaches for your hand.

“Then stay. Not for McLaren. Not for the team. For me. Stay and let me love you out loud.”

You don’t say anything. You just fall into him. And this time, when he catches you — he doesn’t let go.

—

f1gossipgirls

4,100,000 likes.

f1gossipgirls : Well, McLaren is making it very clear that their engineering goddess will not be making the move to Red Bull. 😌

Last night’s Women in Motorsport event, hosted by YN Fewtrell herself, was equal parts groundbreaking, glamorous, and papaya coded power move. McLaren not only doubled down on their support of their youngest ever lead race engineer—they literally built an entire collection around her. Yes, you read that right.

The new McLaren x YN capsule drop—which happens to be co designed by YN, Lando Norris, and Oscar Piastri—blends garage grit with streetwear genius. 

Oh, and Zak Brown? Sources say he stood off stage during the launch with the expression of a proud dad. One thing’s for sure—McLaren isn’t just protecting YN—they’re elevating her. With the performance she’s delivered this season and the cultural pull she’s building off track, any team who thought they could poach her might want to rethink. 

—

time skip- end of season

Race 24. Sunset. Victory. The pit wall erupts. Headsets fly. Crew leap from their chairs. Someone screams. Someone sobs. Champagne is already spraying even though it hasn’t even been five minutes since the checkered flag waved and everything changed. McLaren are Constructors’ Champions. Lando Norris is a World Champion. And you? You’re frozen. Still seated, staring at the final sector times like they might dissolve if you look away.

It’s done. You did it. You were the voice in his ear all season. Through every win, every late brake, every risky undercut. You built the strategies. You held your nerve. You called the shot that sealed the title. And suddenly—arms are around you.

Oscar’s the first to tackle you, practically dragging you out of your seat. “YOU DID IT! WITH THAT BIG BRAIN,” he yells, voice cracking as he yanks off your headset.

Then Zak’s pulling you into a bear hug, shouting, “You genius, you absolute weapon—you just made history!”

And then there’s chaos. Cameras. Journalists. Engineers hugging. Lando doing donuts on track with the British flag trailing out of his halo. Mechanics crying. Oscar waving his P3 trophy like it’s a lightsaber.

And somewhere in the madness, someone shouts—

“WHERE’S Y/N?! GET HER TO THE PODIUM!”

You’re still breathless when they drag you through the garage. Your McLaren polo is soaked in champagne before you even reach parc fermé. You trip over a cable. Someone shoves a bottle in your hand. You’re laughing and crying and blinking back tears as fans chant your name from the grandstands.

“FEEEEW-TRELL! FEEEEW-TRELL!”

And then you see him. Helmet off. Eyes wild. Hair flattened with sweat. Lando stands on the car, arms in the air, tears streaming down his cheeks as the team swarms around him. But the moment his eyes land on you, it’s like the world narrows. He jumps off the car and runs. Straight into you.

The impact nearly knocks the wind out of you, but you wrap your arms around him as he lifts you off the ground and spins you, screaming nonsense into your neck. He’s shaking. You’re crying. And neither of you care who’s watching.

“You did it,” you whisper.

“No,” he breathes, pulling back just enough to look you in the eyes. “We did it. You got me here. You held me together. This championship has your name all over it.”

You want to say something witty. Something cool. But the only thing that escapes is a broken, soft.

“I love you.”

His whole face crumples. Like he’s been holding that in too.

“God, I love you too.”

And he kisses you. Right there. In front of the cameras. In front of the grid. In front of the entire fucking world. And instead of boos, instead of backlash, there’s only cheering. Because finally — finally — no one can deny you. You’re not a PR stunt. You’re not just Max Fewtrell’s sister. You’re not Lando Norris’ distraction.

You’re the architect of this championship. And tonight, the world knows it.

You stay on the podium stage for the celebration, champagne in your eyes, Lando’s hand in yours. Oscar flings his trophy in the air. Zak is pretending he isn’t crying. The team is lifting mechanics onto their shoulders. Pit crew are dancing. Someone starts singing “Sweet Caroline” off-key.

And you? You look around at the chaos, the joy, the sheer disbelief that you finally made it here. And for the first time all season— You feel loved. Not just for what you do. But for who you are.

—

lando

liked by yn_fewtrell, maxfewtrell, oscarpiastri and 11,010,290 others.

lando : FUCK ALL YOU BITCHES THAT DOUBTED MY PRETTY BIG BRAINED GIRLFRIEND. SHE SHOWED YOU AND WON ME A CHAMPIONSHIP

tagged : yn_fewtrell

—

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—

[rohvee]

I gotta know — what’s NEM!Viktor’s relationship with technology and engineering before he’s imprisoned/after he’s freed? We’re talking about the guy who built a working boat toy from scraps as a kid and disarmed a bomb in seconds in canon. If he was a scientist before his 1000 year long coma, does he renounce the role after, or has it been so long/left him so confused/overstimulated that he doesn’t even clearly remember anything he studied? Or is he enraptured by the technology of the future, thrilled that he was saved by another engineer?

I’m embarrassed by how long it took me to figure out what NEM stood for and also thank you for bringing that acronym to my attention because that sounds COOL AS FUCK

He was an engineer and software engineer 1000 years ago, and was on the team that developed the AI that would evolve into the Herald (which is part of why the Herald is obsessed with him)

I’m gonna go on a tangent for world context lmao: The technology of Viktor’s time was actually more advanced (basically a little further in the future of our modern day), the Herald kind of destroyed the world after it imprisoned Viktor and civilization collapsed and has been struggling to come back ever since. They very much rely on scrounged ancient tech and what they can learn from it. BUT the Church of the Mech-Divina dominates civilization and gatekeeps technology so they have a lot more advanced tech than the rest of society.

Also, in the background, the Herald’s machines that it builds are doing their own thing, set to strange tasks that no one understands, like building strange structures out in the desert that no one really knows the purpose of. The Church considers this divine and ineffable activity.

Viktor is and always will be an engineer at heart, Jayce is fascinated by his insight into ancient tech (since it isn’t ancient to him) and Viktor delights at being able to nerd out about it with him! Viktor also has a neural implant (courtesy of the Herald, what it used to keep him connected to the hivemind) and can interface with the Herald’s machines (though he prefers not to for obvious reasons).

Thank you for the fun question and excuse to brainspew! 🤣❤️

[clowningaroundmars]

morales twins hcs

i'm absolutely in love with the idea of miles42 and miles1610 being twins, i'm so glad most of the fandom has basically adopted 42 lmao

some of my own twins headcanons, just random stuff to add onto other ppls hcs ive seen:

☆ 42 loves his mamí absolutely but def acts the most like his dad, and haaaates when anyone points it out. it's the most obvious when 42 gets mad, he sounds EXACTLY like his father then lol

☆ in fact, the twins polar opposite personalities is probs bc 1610 takes after his mom's temperament more, while 42 is as stoic, stubborn and slightly dorky as his dad is

☆ whenever the boys made each other cry (by accident or otherwise) they did the typical little kid thing and tried immediately comforting the other. now that they're older 1610 handles his emotions better and is mature when talking about them, but 42 is the one who comforts 1610 more often

more below ↓

☆ as well as staying on top of his academics, 42 also plays basketball and trains in a couple martial arts studios after school. 1610 is taller than 42 bc of the spider bite but 42 has always been slightly bigger and more muscular than 1610 since he's the athlete. whenever the family attends 42's boxing matches, jeff gets an overwhelming sense of deja vu from back when he attended his own brother's matches before

☆ they both got thru school p okay, not many incidents of bullying mostly bc if anyone did try, 42 would put a stop to that nonsense immediately. 42 loves his bro with his whole heart and was glad to pick a fight with anyone who gave him any trouble at all. the whole neighborhood knew it too bc the only person allowed to bully 1610 is 42 himself!

☆ in fact, 42 doesn't win the lottery to enter visions in the first place, which saddened both brothers when they found out. so because they're at separate schools now, 42 makes sure his twin knows that if any fuckery is afoot at visions that he'd be more than happy to roll up and dogwalk any fool who tries it. 1610 laughs him off but knows his bro has got his back for sure

☆ 42 likes to pretend 1610 is the nerdy one, but they are both very big anime and manga nerds. every time they hit up any bookstore, they both make a beeline for the manga section and argue over who's gonna read the newest one first (they have to share cuz those books cost some moneeyyyy, man)

☆ 1610 and 42 love their uncle to pieces, OFC. they both pick up separate traits from him, even. 42 was inspired to start martial arts and boxing from watching videos on old digital cameras that aaron hung onto thru the years. they were of a much younger aaron back in his boxing days, when his family went to his matches and recorded them from the seats. 1610 was inspired to pick up graffiti and then even started doodling in notebooks bc of aaron

☆ 1610 is def the social butterfly and easily the most popular kid on the block by virtue of how friendly and outgoing he is. 42 is more introverted and keeps a small circle of friends, but everyone is cool with him nonetheless since they fuck with his twin bro

☆ since 42 stays at home the most (lol he a homebody) he picks up cooking much better than 1610 thanks to him staying in the kitchen to help his mom make dinner while they watch telenovelas together. 42 also knows how to dance bachata and salsa much better than 1610 too

☆ both twins love physics and math but 42 is more hardware-inclined. 1610 is about software, data, and formulas. 42 is good at taking things apart, putting things together, building and engineering. he kinda takes after his uncle aaron that way, and drove his parents nuts as a lil kid when he got his hands on radios, computers, clocks, etc

☆ 1610 loves softer brighter music like JID, steve lacy, smino, frank ocean, kid cudi, post malone, and nujabes. 42 is always bumping harder shit like pop smoke, waka flocka, zillakami, three 6 mafia, benny the butcher and some oldies like paul wall, wu tang clan, biggie smalls, MF DOOM and big KRIT. they tease each other's music tastes a lot since they're polar opposites in almost every way

☆ they actually have a shared playlist where they add new music they like (probs on some e-1610 spotify or soundcloud equivalent since everything is slightly skewed on e-1610 tbh). both of them check it periodically, and 42 is the more frequent contributor

☆ they both make art but 1610 is the artsier kid for sure. 42 doodles occasionally but he's not as enthusiastic about it as his twin is. they both go around the city tagging walls whenever they have any free time, though. 1610 loves colors, expressive styles and is good at coming up with cool ways to draw text. 42's lines, accuracy and technical skill can never be beat

☆ 1610 has superpowers, sure, but his fighting skills are trash! 42 was always the scrappy one, not 1610, so he shows his twin how to properly throw punches and other useful fighting knowledge. it def comes in handy in the future

☆ jeff loves his sons to death but he often finds himself butting heads the most with 42 since they're so similar, it kinda drives them both nuts. it def gets worse once aaron starts gossiping abt what jeff used to be like when they were kids, giving 42 plenty of ammo. they love each other but their relationship is just as complicated as it is between jeff and 1610, and 42 would be lying if he said he wasn't affected by the rift between his dad and uncle himself

☆ the minute the twins turn 16, 42 goes out and gets his drivers license on the first try (computer quiz AND road test aced) and rubs it in 1610's face almost constantly. 1610 likes to throw back that there's no parking space for another car on their block, so he can't even get his own car even if he wanted to anyways

☆ whenever the boys really fight, the whole city seems to know. they squabble a lot obvi, they're brothers. but the very few times they've given each other the silent treatment like for real, everyone in the family tries to get them to make up since it's unsettling to see two peas in a pod be so hostile with each other

☆ and since they've always been attached at the hip, 1610 being enrolled into visions felt. weird. everyone thought 1610 was gonna take it the hardest but surprisingly 42 had a harder time adjusting since he always saw his bro in the hallways at school, and was so used to him knowing the latest gossip of anybody in their grade. without 1610 around as often, 42 becomes even more withdrawn than usual

rio looks up from the pot suddenly, glancing at the time. dinner was almost ready and she… hadn't seen not hide nor tail of her son this evening. he returned home from school a couple hours earlier, choosing to skip going to his boxing class to shut himself in his room.

fine. teenagers can be moody sometimes and rio would rather keep her moody son at home where she can keep an eye on him, rather than worry about what he's getting up to on the streets.

strange thing is, though... rio hadn't heard a single noise come out of that room all night. 42 usually liked to have at least some music playing, maybe video game noises out of his nintendo... oh, what was it called again? whatever, that nintendo thing he played on sometimes.

rio placed the lid on the pot and lowered the flame a bit before making her way over to her twin sons' bedroom door, hesitating a bit when she noticed no light was filtering out from the bottom either. okay... that was weird, too. neither of her sons ever went to bed before dinner. ever.

the one time rio dared to try and send her sons to bed without dinner years ago-- as punishment for fighting right there in the kitchen that time-- both twins hollered so loud they got concerned knocks on their front door from various different neighbors. never again, rio remembered thinking that time.

now, the bedroom door stands oddly quiet and completely hollow without any signs of life behind it. rio knocked anyways, hoping against hope itself that 42 didn't go ahead and sneak out of the house without her knowledge. if he did sneak out, he's grounded for 3 months, rio thinks to herself mostly as reassurance. she nervously picks at a nail and strains to hear anything behind the wood.

she thinks she hears a groan and decides to try her luck by slowly opening the door. hopefully he's not in there... y'know, doing teenage boy things, either. dios mío.

rio swings the door open to...

...a completely pitch-black room, save for the sliver of streetlight filtering in past a crack in the window curtains and casting an eerie yellow glow on anything it could touch. it is cold, and also deathly quiet.

rio is shocked.

she walks over to the right side of the room where 42's bed is pushed up against the corner, next to the windows. on that bed lies a big lump, buried under several layers of blankets. the lump stirs.

rio crosses her arms. "mijo, mi amor. are you sleeping? …pero qué te pasa, papí?"¹

42 rolls onto his back and glares sleepily at his concerned mother standing at his bedside. it's dark in the room, but rio's face is illuminated by the living room lights pouring in from the open door. she's wearing a tilted smile, but coupled with the worry lines on her forehead, it isn't fooling anyone.

42 slowly closes his eyes, chin still under the covers, and lets out the most world-weary sigh rio has ever heard coming out of someone as young as him. if it weren't coming from her own son, she might have even laughed.

she immediately sits down, lifting the cover off of 42's chin to check his temperature all over his face. he tries to wriggle away.

"maaaaaa, stop..." he grumbles, trying to pull the covers up higher over his head. "'m not sick, mamí, forreal… chill."

rio leans on a hand. "¿si no 'ta enfermó pues qué es?² what's wrong?"

42 doesn't answer for a bit and rio exhales through her nose. " 'moré, what are you doing in this pitch-black room all by yourself? no light, no music, no nothing. what's wrong? you look like you're on a death bed!"

42 finally opens his eyes again, and blinks a few times as he says, "nothing, ma. seriously, i'm just... tired. that's all. i'm fine."

"you don't look 'fine' 42, you look like 2 seconds away from flatlining."

another sigh from the boy. rio rolls her eyes and places her hand on his forehead again, then strokes his cheek.

"is it 1610? hmm?" rio asks 42. she asks so unbelievably gently, as if by only mentioning his brother's name she would shatter something in the room. a mirror or something.

42's heart clenches at the love and care his mother is showing around this particular topic. it was true, and he couldn't even deny it. having 1610 in the house less and less every week, not seeing him in the hallways at their local high school, receiving sparser and shorter replies to his texts... it was all building up in his chest and the dam was pretty close to bursting. especially now as his mom was lovingly stroking his cheek as she checked in with him. how embarassing. rio wouldn't see him cry, not right now. he closed his eyes and willed the tears away, for her sake.

miraculously, 42's voice didn't crack or waver when he said, "yeah. yeah, i miss 'im."

rio crooned something saccharine in spanish and placed a kiss on her son's forehead. she saw right through his cold tough guy act, as expected. with how much of a mama's boy 42 was, it would've been impossible not to. they spent way too much time together for her to miss how he dragged his feet getting ready for school in the mornings, how he's been skipping martial arts and basketball practice more often lately, and how unenthusiastic he's been in general.

rio chuckles as she lays her cheek on 42's forehead for a second before sitting back up. "ay, bendito. 42, you know your brother is just down a few blocks from here. why don't you go visit him soon?"

42 shuffles under the covers. he's unsure if he should even admit this, but he proceeds anyways. "uhm. he's not answering my texts lately, so." he feels strangely guilty about this, like he just snitched on his twin somehow even though he has no reason to suspect that at all.

rio sighs and looks off into the distance, bracing herself for what she's about to say. she looks back down. "yeah. i know. he doesn't answer mine, either. i was hoping he was talking to you, but... well. "

something in 42 stirs a bit. "i bet he thinks he's in some fancy private school, around rich kids, now he's too good for us," it's a weak attempt at a joke, but rio smiles down at him anyways.

"don't worry. the second he gets home this weekend, he's on house arrest. okay? he's gonna be chained to you the whoooole time. and i'm keepin' watch."

it's not much, but 42 still takes that little bit of hope and holds it gently in his mind.

"the second he walks through that door, i'm tackling him. i don't care." 42 smiles at the thought.

rio laughs, kisses his forehead again and stands up. "dinner is almost ready, by the way." she gives him a look. "you better eat with me tonight, because your brother is at school and your dad is doing overtime tonight. okay? okay."

42 sighs deeply to wake himself up a bit more as he sits up and scratches at his durag. "yeah, yeah. 'm comin', ma!"

¹ "but what is going on with you, papí?" (papí being a common term of affection for a boy in spanish, it doesn't always mean "dad" lol)

² "if you're not sick, then what is it?"

☆ until they get "too old" for halloween, the morales twins ALWAYS wear matching costumes. every year. every single year, no matter what. what they usually end up wearing changes every year and they aaaaaalways argue over it, of course. notable costumes so far: batman and superman (age 13), two ninja turtles (age 9) (im thinking mikey and donatello bc of personality but lbr rio most likely forbade either of them to be leonardo bc the twins would deadass get into a fist fight over it), tom and jerry (age 2), mario and luigi (age 7), woody and buzz (age 5), peter pan and captain hook (age 10), and-- rio's favorite-- thing 1 and thing 2 (age 4)

☆ 42 was surprisingly always very popular with the girls at school. in middle school, 1610 was the geeky one with braces and acne. 42 got off relatively easy in that regard and as a result was labeled "a heartbreaker" from the jump, which annoyed him. he has no interest in dating whatsoever and swore to never get into a relationship before graduating high school. he's got his mom and brother to take care of and he's going places after high school, damnit! 1610 on the other hand is a huge romantic and has a crush on a new person almost every year of school, easily

☆ the literal second 1610 set foot in the house after his spider bite, 42 was all over him asking a million questions since they both have that supernatural twintuition, and 42 sussed him out immediately. 1610 obviously had to come clean and tell his brother he was spiderman just like he told ganke, otherwise he was never gonna be able to change into his spider suit at home (plus they share a room, so. there's that)

1610 didn't even get to close their bedroom door all the way before his twin leaped up from his own bed and stalked over.

"óye, bro. what's up? what happened at visions?" 42 circled his brother, squinty-eyed in the exact same way their mom is when she's suspicious. 1610 dropped his bag next to his bed and plopped down on his sheets, trying to put some distance between them.

"uhhhh what're you talkin' about?" he tries casually, and immediately regrets it.

"uhhhhh what're you talkin' about?" 42 mocks. "don't play dumb with me. you KNOW what i'm talkin' about, stupid. first, you answer, like, none of my texts ever. then dad comes home sayin' you never let him talk face-to-face when he visited you a couple days ago. mamí has been texting and calling you nonstop, no answer either. you are a brand new person now, huh? qué te pasa, yo?"

1610 hunched his shoulders as he got up and slumped over to his desk. he was quietly weighing his options, nervously rearranging papers and sketches on the wooden table, wondering how he was going to break it to his brother that he was--

"lemme guess. you have superpowers now," 42 says easily. he crosses his arms triumphantly when big round amber eyes suddenly turn up to his face.

1610 searches his face for any hint of a joke. no... no way. did his brother just...?

"you're playin' with me. no way. how did you--?"

42's eyes widen. "wait, are you being deadass right now?" he threw his head back and crowed with laughter. "that was just a guess!"

1610 leaped forward and pushed his hand onto 42's mouth, shutting him up. "heeyyy hey hey hey hey shhhhh, man. damn, could you possibly be any louder? look," he took his twin by the shoulders and gave him a slight shake, lowering his voice to a near whisper. "mom and dad can never know anything about this. okay? anything. not a word, you understand?"

42 pushes his brother off. "ok-ay man, cool it. i promise. we can shake on it, even."

wordlessly, they did their super secret handshake they came up with and perfected in the 4th grade in lieu of hooking their pinkies together. it was the morales shake, a move that binds them to secrecy and keeping promises til death. this was serious business. 1610 relaxes a bit once they're done.

"... okay. and i mean it, pencil braids. if you even breathe a word about this, or even think about--!"

"if you don't just tell me already, goddamn."

with a meaningful look thrown at his brother's way, 1610 raises an arm silently. 42 looks back expectantly.

1610 shoots a web up. he jumps up, using the web as a bungee rope to help him flip and land feet-first onto the ceiling. once his sneakers touch their ceiling, he stands up... upside-down. he stares at his brother and his brother stares back, mouth agape.

"niiiiiiice," 42 leans back and grins up at his twin brother, spiderman.

☆ 1610 is glad he has someone besides ganke to talk to about spiderman stuff, though. his brother listens way more attentively than his roommate anyways, and even tries to help sometimes esp when 1610 needs a quick distraction so he can switch from spiderman back into his regular clothes before the parents notice

☆ 42 is surprisingly cool abt his twin bro being spiderman, actually. even when they're texting 42 is careful not to imply 1610 is spiderman, and often calls stuff in to the police station if 1610 webs anyone up and lets him know. he also gets very good at bandaging up wounds quickly

☆ 42 is a hardass on the outside and contains his emotions much better than his twin, but he's kinda different around his family, since he loves them a lot. he jokes around a lot with them, esp around 1610. they also love pranking their parents, and are p creative at coming up with ways to make everyone laugh

☆ i personally picture 42's personality being sort of like huey's from the boondocks, especially around other adults. he becomes withdrawn and speaks very clearly and directly, and is very shy around strangers. some ppl mistake that as him having an attitude problem but his friends and family know better. only difference between huey and 42 is that 42 isn't nearly as woke lmfao

☆ meanwhile, 1610 becomes a motormouth around strangers and is quick to hug and kiss random family members at family reunions. as a lil kid, he'd always be the one up at the counter ordering for the both of them and chatting with the cashiers, or bus drivers, or whoever. as he gets older and used to the spiderman thing, he chats and jokes with randoms a lil less. he has to save the good material for when the mask is on

☆ 42 is a better writer than he is an artist, actually. he has notebooks filled with poetry and lyrics he scribbles down on post-it notes just to stick them in there for safekeeping. he's also been working on a sci-fi story since he was in 6th grade in absolute secrecy; he doesn't want a single soul to see it. he'd be mortified if anyone saw the nerdy shit he comes up with

☆ even tho 1610 has never fought anyone or been scrappy with anyone else, he's very good at wrestling and dodging punches thanks to his brother.

☆ 42 is the more fashion-inclined twin, even tho they're both sneakerheads. 42 just pays more attention to accessories, the fit of his clothing, how to pair the right shoes with the right jacket. 1610 throws on anything comfortable and calls it a day, and it gets even worse after he becomes spiderman. 42 clowns his brother SO HARD after he finds him wearing yellow sweatpants with an oversized red adidas hoodie and a green puffer jacket once (it was when 1610 came home from fighting a shapeshifting lizard that tried to take over cypress hills. the sweatpants were on backwards)

☆ 1610's sense of humor is geeky and he always tries too hard with his quips and jokes. he usually gets "secondhand embarrassment" chuckles from ppl. 42's style of comedy is a mix of dry humor and unintentionally being funny. this dude will say something clever with the straightest face ever and have the ENTIRE room in stitches without even meaning to

☆ just to nail home how different they are, even tho they share a room, you can tell EXACTLY which half of their room begins and ends. 1610's half is cluttered, vibrant, covered in posters and action figures, collages and trinkets on every available surface. 42's is as clean as a hospital room, and he ALWAYS makes his bed every morning. 42 has a poster or 2 hung up but he's not much for decorating in general. he's more into alphabetizing his bookshelf and looking for more efficient storage to put under his bed

☆ when jeff looks at his sons, he sees aaron and himself and sometimes it scares him. when the boys were around 12 (the Evil Year) he made SURE to sign them up for camp trips that summer and keep them close together as much as possible. he hates to see his boys drift apart at all and is the 1st one to call it out if he sees it. he just doesn't want his boys to end up like he and his brother did…

☆ … and then other times? it genuinely makes him feel a combination of irritation and also fondness bc sometimes 1610 and 42 really really remind him of aaron and himself, esp when they were young. ESPECIALLY when they argue. in every playful slap on the shoulder, every arbitrary competition started out of nowhere, every sleepy brother slowly sliding onto the other's shoulder during nighttime car rides, he sees it. he sees them, and then he sees his past. and with every little difference between the boys slowly cracking open like a chasm with each passing day, sometimes he thinks he can even see his future.

☆ 42 is cool or whatever but i also hc he's kinda… weird sometimes. it gets worse when his twin bro goes off to visions, he keeps staring at walls while sitting in dark rooms and eating at weird hours of the day. rio caught him fast asleep practically hanging off the window sill one night, and another time jeff found him having an entire conversation with a brick wall once while on patrol. 42 refuses to answer any questions

☆ after 1610 gets into visions, becomes spiderman, tells his parents abt his plans to go to princeton, etc... 42 eventually starts feeling a type of way (a jealous way…) their parents also seem to pay attention to 1610 more whenever he's home just to add insult to injury. he knows he's not supposed to, but he often finds himself thinking about the prowler gloves and schematics aaron left behind. he managed to grab them and hide them in a gym bag one day while helping his parents clear out aaron's apartment. the tech currently lives under his bed…

[prettyboykatsuki-moved]

TELL US THE LORE????

dkjfhsdgj ITS KIND DERANGED LMAOO. sorry for yapping about her backstory but its relevant to their insane dynamic lmao

my self insert / oc is basically like. disillusioned software engineer. shes based off edward snowden. she's from the planet of talia (which is desert wasteland) and she's an orphan and was raised with other bandit gangs lol. she learned how to write software and engineer thru trial and error. she's an orphan and doesn't really have any family with the exceptions of like two people she considers. but no blood. no idea who her parents are lol

she gets picked up by the ipc when she's in her teen years because she gets caught trying to steal from them using some phishing software she made. they offer recruitment instead of jail-time bc her skillsets are valuable and she sees it as a good opportunity.

she quickly finds out the ipc is crazy corrupt and she gets really like. she wants to get out but the contract is insane. so she basically. like. steals a bunch of money from the ipc and then goes permanently on the run LMAO.

she finds refuge in different planets but the ipc is everywhere. she keeps stealing from them though and interrupting their business models. very robinhood i guess. she has more of a moral conscience than other inserts i make she's really upright.

her personality is really like super antisocial and paranoid. complete loser forreal. after all that jumping around, she ends up hiding in penacony bc its huge and even with ipc presence, it's really easy for the blend in

this is where her relationship with sunday starts. he's really into her because he doesn't like the IPC for one, but also because he finds her to be benevolent (and she is to her credit she's really morally upright). he offers her like . complete refuge and protection in exchange for being part of the family.

she. adamantly refuses this proposition (he will keep asking though) but offers to work for the family as a contractor in exchange for protection. sunday agrees, she's an important and valuable asset with tons of insider information but also he feels weirdly comfortable around her.

they have such a weird relationship LMAOOOAOAOA. sunday develops this very possessive feeling about her and is really coercive and manipulative to her in general. he comes and goes as he pleases but she's not allowed to stray too far. quick to tug her leash basically. he has a really complete control over her and he's paranoid about her trying to leave him. always pulling her into corners and being kind of humiliating and controlling about how she dresses and acts etc

THE INSANE THING IS THAT SHE'S KIND OF. FINE WITH IT. she's really aware that sunday is crazy and manipulative and batshit. but she has HELLA abandonment issues because she has no "home." sunday constantly breathing down her back to stay with him and be his possesion gives her a comfortable sense of belonging and she doesn't think of him as evil - so she's weirdly content with him and just wants to be with him

SOMETIMES. WHEN SUNDAY IS IN A GOOD MOOD. he'll ask her what he wants and he's always expecting her to like beg for her own freedom but she never does. always asks for like intimacy like bathing together and cuddling. and it always shocks sunday LMAOAOA because he's convinced she secretly depsises him but its like dude. Lol.

they're genuinely so in love. this is deranged im aware but they really genuinely love each other and feel understood by one another. but its insane by all accounts

[moodymisty]

Which Primarchs do you think would pair best with a lover who is a slightly nervous and gentle-natured medical worker? (shamelessly self-inserting lmao) ..Who do you think would be the worst? I already figure Konrad would result in psychological devastation at BEST, but I'm super curious about your thoughts on others. And maybe a cute fluffy one-shot with your fave Primarch that fits best?(you don't gotta though!!)

Now while I'm sure at the end of the day I could ramble my way around picking any one of the Primarchs (Guilliman and Khan are also good options), I decided to pick Vulkan because of a few reasons. One being that for someone who's nervous, he's a good rock, and two being that he's not completely emotionless. (I love you Dorn but you have the emotion variability of spackle) And his legion is nice too, so you don't have to deal with any sort of mania there, either.

He's patient, gentle all things considered, and he's endeared to your softer nature. He wants to foster that, not snuff it out. This galaxy is horrid enough for his liking.

I feel like since the Salamanders deal with baseline humans more, they would more often come across medical workers and whatnot as well. Maybe even have a few indentured on the Flamewrought taking care of any civilians they might save. Perhaps you meet Vulkan that way; Some real coffee shop AU type story.

Now an easy answer would be Konrad for the worst simply because, well he's Konrad (at best you might be his nervous scared little squeaky toy), but Angron would also be pretty bad. He's not exactly capable of understanding nervousness. Ferrus would also be pretty shite for a similar reason.

I hope this whet your appetite anon, and continue with the self inserting. As a horrifically anxious and shy software engineer, I feel you.

[prismatic-starstuff]

I'm slowly but surely working on a concept for a fan-chapter of the game anthology Dark Pictures Anthology. Simply because the games have angered me so much and I feel like I can do it better. I'm still in the character design stage for reasons I'll specify later. The fan-chapter is called Terror on Belgica and the gist of the plot is that a bunch of history reenactors go on a cruise to the Arctic where they're supposed to overwinter and then go back in the spring. Their ship is a replica of a historical ship and is called Belgica 2.0 in honour of the historical Belgica. The first problem is that their ship kinda shits itself and something breaks. The second problem is that something awakens. Said something is reminiscent of The Thing from, well, The Thing. This is not their biggest problem - they are their own biggest problem. There are 11 characters in total and most of them are unhinged.

Highlights include a 50 years old trans man captain who named himself after Saint Patrick (Roman Patty) and who keeps insisting that he's Welsh but has Roman heritage, a software engineer with the social skills of a slab of concrete but not in a cold jackass way but in a Patches-esque way (like yeah he's emotive and willing to talk but his thought process is perplexing and his conclusions bizarre and he himself is bizarre) (he keeps mailing new bits of code to his company by post while they're still stopping in harbours), and a nepo baby who wasn't even supposed to be there because she's young and such a voyage is not without possible risks but she bribed her way in and yeah she's nice and cooperative but also seems to be really disconnected from normal life and work and keeps saying insane shit of the "it's one banana, what could it cost? 3 dollars?" variety.

I mean all of the idiots are highlights but I don't want to hype up 11 characters in an ask lmao.

I even have a Notion for the whole thing and it's open to my friends and whoever else wants to see it and throw some ideas at the wall. So uh if you want to check this insanity out let me know I'll send you the link in the comments.

But my actual point was that I'm still in the character design stage because I'm one character short and uh a thing happened. Essentially my friend and I went "It'd be funny if these 4 characters from these media interacted lol." And I went "...Well...this character is based on that one anyway. I can just...add the rest." So now 3 of those 11 characters are very based on 3 existing characters (Hickey from The Terror, Tom from Succession, and Winslow from The Lighthouse). But, you see, the 4th one is kinda similar to Hickey in some ways, so originally I mashed them together. But I thought "Ok but I'm still one character short. Ok ok let's analyse that guy and if he's different enough I'll add him." So right now I'm analysing Ives from Ravenous (1999) to decide if he gets to have his own equivalent in my story lmao.

What makes it funnier is that much like the Hickey-equivalent is also inspired by Jack Sparrow, and the Winslow-equivalent is also inspired by Goodsir (from The Terror) and also Gibson (also from The Terror), the potential Ives-equivalent would be inspired by Adabo aka my DAI inquisitor lmao. Because I was thinking about it and went "Lol the merging of the church and the state is kinda Adabo-esque isn't it. Now that I think about it Adabo is kinda Ives-esque in general."

The equivalent will probably look a lot like Adabo as well hdhhdhdjdj.

oh!!! i am super interested in this :0 haven't played any of the dark pictures anthology myself but i've been meaning to for the longest time, so this concept is super fun

the character concepts sound really interesting, and i'd be all for getting the link to learn more about this, i'm invested!

[jeonstudios]

Are we twins? My tesis were with AI, neural networks, and my last job was working as a software engineer for a game dev company coding with Unity.

I feel like we are connected, but

🎓 ✨️ academically ✨️🎓

(do not let that asshole of a dev discourage you. He is probably afraid of competition and dont want new people getting in the field, a huge sign of a bad developer tbh)

oop 🤯 probably yeah lmao twin brains 🤪 my bachelor is just ai but i'm taking a course now on the side in game dev as well, so i'm not sure if i might pursue ai/game dev or just ai? or maybe just get a basic programming job without the ai lol 🫣 and yeah, i just don't get why you need to belittle someone just because they're a beginner 🙄

[ins1ders]

❝  ——  IF  I  DON'T  LISTEN  TO  MY  OWN  IMAGINARY  FRIEND  ,   WHY  SHOULD  I  LISTEN  TO  YOURS  ? 

WCS | MUSINGS | CLICK BELOW FOR INTRO

  //   (  lakeith stanfield  .  cis male  .  he/ him  )  .    ⸻  kingsley tau  ,  a  thirty  year  old  ,  has  survived  another  day  in  red  creek  where  they  have  lived  their entire life on and off - has been back now for 6 months  .  the  conspiracy theorist  is  known  for  being  relaxed  and paranoid  and  is  often  associated  with  blunts burnt down to their buds with smoke whispering around them , hazy red rimmed eyes with a mellow smile , computers open with hundreds of unorganised tabs   .  in  a  small  town  where  they  work  as a gravedigger  word  travels  fast  . 

this is sooo silly goofy of me but lets go lesbians lets go !

inspo: darius ( atlanta ) sorry for the type cast but lbr . elliot alderson ( mr robot ) , trent lane ( daria ) , nick miller ( new girl ) .

anti establishment , anti everything . is probably non-binary because he doesn't believe in gender but is too lazy to actually open that door within himself JKNFBSJNFSJ

kingsley is a lazy king who is high like 95% of the time . he lives in a world of distrust . he hates money . hates law enforcement . has a conspiracy theory for literally EVERYTHING

literally thinks rats work for the fbi

that kooky dude that talks so much sometimes ur lowkey like . .. is he like . . . ok ?

kingsley has been in redcreek for his entire life BUT he goes through stints of just disappearing randomly ? like he'll be here one day then leave for 6 months and come back like it was nothing .

he currently works as a gravedigger literally lmao its honestly the perfect job for his weird ass

believes in ghosts and aliens

kingsley is actually incredibly smart . he taught himself coding and software engineering . he knows technology like nobody else but he also absolutely hates technology

instead of using his big brain for anything he does the exact opposite .

he lowkey loves to hack things or break into things . life is like one giant escape room to him . hacks computers , databases , websites .

is really easygoing and genuinely doesn't get pissed off or angry very often . he's quite mellow and goes with the vibe . he melts into the background a fair bit

kingsley comes from a verryyyy wealthy , well known family in redcreek . watch out avery , he's coming for your title ( cosplaying poor ) .

his parents are exhausted by kingsley and his ability to never fit into higher society or play the social game

moves his hands SO MUCH while he's talking

honestly enjoys doing anything that will piss off his family but especially his dad .who he despises . will do anything for a laugh , or on a whim .

genuinely if you need someone to hide a d*ad body , he'd be the perfect guy and not just bc it's his job dsjklnfjnfdjn

heart of gold underneath it all . he seems quite blase but then will suddenly call you his best friend or his soul mate . he can be a hard read , but he loves very deeply

Disappears a lot . not just physically but when you talk to him you'll notice he can glaze over and lose focus . especially in loud spaces or big , crowded rooms . absolutely has undiagnosed adhd ( doesn't believe in doctors , medicine or diagnoses either tho )

HE'S POOKIE CODED I SWEAR HE'S JUST QUIRKY

[goldenflowers]

OKAY SO i said yesterday that i would make a post about how anime weekend atlanta went, so... basically it was a bit of a mixed bag because while i got to see tons of cool cosplays and merch and go to some neat panels, we (as in me and my dad who was traveling with me) ended up not only having car troubles the entire weekend but also had some absolutely ridiculous problems with ordering food. just as an example, one night we ordered a pizza and it took 3 hours to arrive and we never got told there would be any kind of delay 😭 BUT i will go ahead and share my cosplays and then list off some good things that happened! i'm slightly embarrassed about posting my face on here since i've never done that before but here goes:

i was edward elric on thursday and friday at AWA and lilia vanrouge (pop music club version) on saturday and sunday! i did a bunch of thrifting and DIYing (and pulling things i already owned out of my closet for lillia lmao) for both of these and i am especially proud of that automail glove. i also went to two twisted wonderland cosplay photoshoots on both saturday and sunday which was definitely fun, and i met todd haberkorn while in my ed cosplay and got him to autograph the same fullmetal alchemist artbook that i've previously had signed by caitlin glass! i also bought a handful of silly little trinkets and i will put photos of all this other stuff under a cut so people who don't care don't have it clogging their dash too badly.

^ full group photo + some diasomnia photos of the saturday twst photoshoot. shoutout to the summer lilia who offered to princess carry malleus and the person who showed up as meleanor--two things which are both seriously impressive to me in different ways.

^ the photo i took with todd haberkorn + the artbook cover he signed. you can see where he signed his name right over ling and where, when i met caitlin last year, she signed her name right over winry. i met him once before but it was literally 10 years ago and it was great to be able to meet him again. he told me he thinks ling deserves his own FMA spinoff, and i very much agree with him.

^ some of the silly merch i bought. i also wanted to buy the official castle in the sky artbook as well as these kingdom hearts plushies so badly and still might buy them online later:

and uhhh i think that's all i feel like sharing on here?? i wish i had gotten to go to more panels but the various unexpected issues i had throughout the con kept me from having the time to go to many, although the ones i did get to see were great. there was one where a nuclear propulsion plant operator and NASA software engineer graded various sciencey anime on how good or bad their science was and did a very thorough examination of whether or not the premise of planetes--a screw hitting a spaceship, putting a hole in it, and taking out an intercontinental suborbital flight--was plausible. he concluded that it is and gave the overall series an A+ for scientific accuracy, and i've never seen this show but now i want to.

okay actually NOW that's all! if you cared enough to read this post then you deserve this bonus photo from when i got home yesterday, decided to put my ed cosplay back on and take extra photos of it, and subsequently got attacked by my cat:

[project-sour-grapes]

My Boss is Clueless: Episode 5 or Something

Boss was out all last week at a conference for an engineering topic that he loves to research. Good for him. But he came back and started with the snide comments in like 5 minutes flat.

One of my computers has not been able to connect to the network since I started two months ago (though I only do 10% of my work on it and there are other computers that I can use instead). I went to use one of these other computers within two minutes of walking in the door this morning, leading to his questioning me, and my reminding him of the network issue. Amongst all the troubleshooting that he then started helping me with, he asked sarcastically, "So what did you even... do last week then?" Oh, I just jerked off all day and ate cafeteria food. What do you and your five brain cells think I did?

The assumption that I did nothing when I actually built out some kickass functionality to our brain imaging pipeline is toxic at best. It's his lack of ability to give me the benefit of the doubt and to continuously treat everybody around him (not just me) like they are lazy and stupid. If he and I have had multiple conversations, from the generic to the specific, about how software development takes time and how I am doing my best, and he keeps going back to his cynical baseline, then I am abandoning his little circus. I have picked a resignation date and have already written up the emails.

Bonus: he sent me an email last-last Friday with 4 items to do for the week he was away. I did 3 of them (because, surprise, things take time), but he sent me a cheeky email that started with, "It seems like you were only able to do 2 of the tasks... blah blah blah [passive aggression]." 1 of the tasks that he gave me was a tricky coding problem to make our pipeline more mathematically accurate. That yarnball took some untangling. The other 2 were new tasks, one of which was compiling a patient's info (that has to do with the particular brain disease that we study) into a singular write-up, which actually becomes part of the decision-making process before the neurosurgeons chop into the patient's brain. So yeah, I'm going to be thorough and slow with that one. Eat dirt, bud. The other task was merely computationally intensive and required labeling some data and then leaving a program to run for an hour several times. Just takes time. The 4th task that I did not get to was not time sensitive.

Why am I explaining this? For sanity. To illustrate that I have thought this through. My boss has gotten a little better, but he just can't help himself, and I'm tired of the jabs and weird manipulation. You want your little kingdom back? You can have it. And fill it with MATLAB scripts and LLMs lmao.

I'm not going to tell him or anyone on that team the real reason for leaving. I am going to tell them that I am either moving or focusing on new freelance contracts or both. The point is to let all of the doctors and techs who have been so welcoming know that they are dope, but to imply to my boss that he is treating a Lexus like a Honda Civic in a demolition derby. With the wrong octane rating. I don't normally give a shit about titles or whatever, but did you even read my resume, big man? Forget the titles. The bullet points of projects that I have worked on are heavy hitters. You think you know how software works? Sorry that your PhD did not confer the engineering wisdom upon you that you thought it would. Like I said. MATLAB. LLMs. Asking ChatGPT to write your Python for you.

Just not a good environment.

[parkchvnyeols]

Is this the same friend that does not like noise music because.... as someone who only liked peaches out of Jongin's solo albums because the rest were too much noise soundbooth engineer going wild with the sliders in the editing software for me I feel like he might not be for her either. And like I am not dissing Jongin he can make music that I dislike and it can still be good music two things can be true at once. He doesn't have to please me specifically he's fine with love and all that

the one i mentioned like within the last 2 days? yes same friend 🙂‍↕️

i hear u!! i’m shocked bc she also told me that she dislikes peaches the most out of the 3 albums and only likes the title track, loved all his other tracks from the other albums, and that he’s her fav soloist rn.

personally i don’t think jongin leans into noise music much at all, but being an nctzen maybe im biased 🫠 i do see where you’re getting the soundbooth engineer thing lmao

[immobiliter]

herta is very good with technology, even despite her years. while she does rely on screwllum when it comes to the coding and basic building blocks of the simulated universe because that is the expertise he brings to the project, this is still a woman who was able to reverse-hack silver wolf on her own without screwllum's help, and specifically targeted the poor girl's gaming accounts because she knew that was where it would hurt lmao. she can technically be considered a software engineer given her own work on the simulated universe, a quantum physicist given that she safely captured and isolated a stellaron at her space station, as well as being a robotics expert given that it's implied that she prototyped, tested and programmed her puppets herself. a lot of her particular field of study seems to be in the realm of mathematics and physics, and in order to keep her mind sharp on those topics she would absolutely pay attention to relevant breakthroughs and advances in technology.

so yes, she is perfectly comfortable texting and using a smartphone, thank you, and if she doesn't text you back that is more a reflection of how she doesn't want to talk to you instead of it being a reflection of her ability to use the device in her hand.

given the deliberately meme worthy names of her talents ( big brain energy, hear me out, vibe checker ), the fact that she knows what a selfie is and also what a video game is even though she doesn't appear to have any interest in them and leaves that element of the simulated universe to stephen... she's not even really a cool grandma trying to get down with the kids. she's just a cool (ish) millennial grandma.

[3d-project]

What is 3D animation?

Well 3D animation is creating moving, three-dimensional images and putting them together. The visuals are made using 3D software, allowing animators create 3D objects even though they are made on a 2D surface. One of the software's that people use, is Unreal engine it's self. But what games is it used in?

3D animation is used mostly everywhere in this day and age, with it being used in games, shows and obviously animations. One game that I think used 3D animation is used uniquely is, Guilty Gear Strive.

Guilty Gear

In Guilty Gear, the developers and the 3D artists use, 3D cell-shaded animation in the games fighting mechanics even though the games models are mainly just 3D.

As you can see from above. One of the fighting moves changes the game to a more CGI look from the games regular look and merges 3D game models to more of a anime look. I love this idea, because it makes the game look way cleaner, in terms of quality and visuals, it just looks really smooth and with this idea being somewhat unique to guilty gear. I just personally haven't seen it in other games.

I selected Guilty Gear personally because I've just started playing it recently with it being one of my first fighting games. Compared to other fighting games, Guilty gear was just one of the few games that stuck out to me in visuals and was recommended by friends.

Another game that uses 3D animation is Apex Legends.

Apex Legends

Apex Legends is a first person, battle royale game with 3D models and animations. Pretty much every thing in this game has 3D animations, the guns when you use/pick them up, the character models with running, jumping, using there abilities. However one thing that you can use in Apex is what's called as a finisher. During or at the end of a fight, you can use it get armour (health) back. Obviously, there are plenty of games that use finishers in different ways but what makes Apex's more unique?

As you can see from the really scuffed gif above, this one of the finishers the game offers for a character called mirage. When it comes to it's finishers the game adds the character personally, in detail and visuals, and they also do it to pretty much everything else in the game.

The developers make finishers by using motion capture suits, and the team loves making them this way. It is just an easier way to just the most out of a persons personality and who else than mirage himself.

Mirage is the type of guy who likes the stand out, get peoples attention by being stupid, funny and fooling around. In the finisher you can see his personally, and the animation hits the mark with how he acts. This is something I would like to see in more games that are more fast paced.

The last game I'm going to talk about is Honkai: Star rail.

Honkai: Star Rail

Honkai: Star Rail is a turn based game that use 3D animation that it uses to take advantage of the nice visuals and effects that the game has. What makes star rails animation stick out to me however is how they use the dynamic camera angles when a character attacks or does something.

(lmao because of limit)

This video shows what the camera angles look like, and from what is shown from the video, Star Rail uses it's camera angles in the best places to show the player the most of there 3D animation in the best ways possible, which is probably why the 3D animation looks as well made as it does. Personally, this is what sticks the game out from other turn based games of this style.

A few other examples

Personally, there are a few other good examples that I think need talking about that aren't in games and are shows or just individual animations are:

Arcane

RWBY

Murder Drones

Meta Runner

Spider Man: Across the Spider Verse

[the-winds-of-destiny-xxx]

social

So S's party was interesting. There were a few people there from bris (could count on one hand) and the rest for like S's work friends and S's housemates friends and work friends. The work friends were v borning ngl like not the kind of people I'd invite to the kind of party I think they wanted it to be. There was a lot of tension between the girlies and this girl that they were tight with at uni which confused me because why invite her then? I brought a joint with me (ofc I keep that thang on me) but didn't really smoke it because S's housemate (Y) gave me an edible. It was actually so good lmao like I felt like one of those people in those videos at a house party after an edible. And omg the last time I saw her she made edibles at my flat in bris and they were so good and she was like an remember you were messaging that yt boy (will lmaoooo). I remember it so well because I asked him on a record store date and he replied as soon as the edible kicked in. I remember me Y, S and A were typing up the message to send him on my notes app and we were like is it this serious 😭😭. life was so different back then. Never got the outcome I wanted with W and all I can do is pretend it was for the best. feel like he should've been my man at one point but i think i'm too headstrong for him.

Also I don't wanna talk shit about anyone and their man but I will say I wish straight women would learn to decentralise men. Especially men that aren't that great and will embarrass you in front of your friends at house parties. mind you i do have questionable taste in men sometimes but i have my limits. I just think if the girlies saw themselves and knew their worth they'd know they could do better and to separate their identities from their men.

Wish I could've brought A (from uni) with me but she had work :(. Also I was the first in the people from bris group to leave 😬. Wasn't feeling it that much because I wanted to dance and have a lot of fun but the people were too pretentious/ serious to be on that wave or they only talked to their friends. To me at a party everyone should be mingling. My last straw was some yt boy I was talking to in Y's room he violated lmaooo. He was like oh you're doing a master's? i remember when I too wasted a year of my life 😭😭 which is crazy because he's a software engineer (so is my dad) and the more degrees you have the higher your pay is. He flat out said I rate S but not you because she works corporate I said lemme leave rn before I slap this boy. His housemate was just standing there like I'm so sorry you have to interact with him 😭😭. I think he was autistic too which explains so much about the way he socialises

gym

kinda wanna go but think i'll stay home and do some uni work instead.

mood

I feel okay. kinda happy, kinda weird.

[agent-scotch]

Cador and Scotch Headcanon - Cador didn't expect to have to be wrangling everyone but wrangle them he does. Merlin gave up trying to wrangle Scotch (partly because she kept flirting with him), so he passed the job onto Cador which is how Cador ALSO ended up with Arty and Indy and now it's like he has three squabbling kids. Bit weird when he bought them all Christmas presents though (even though it secretly warmed their hearts).

Lmao I love this as a crack headcanon

Some of a reason this also opened a weird can of worms in my brain (sorry) but I love it:

Professionally: Statesmen Sora/Scotch, prior to Gin’s ‘death’ is probably more chaotic like Arty and Indy. Post losing her brother and transferring Kingsman, Sora is serious mom to James’s chill dad. Stealing a simple car like a GT she’ll probably yell and throw a few wrench, but when it is genuine endangerment, like a high tech car in the works, I think I’d be more worried if she doesn’t yell at you. 

That being said it doesn't stop the agent from learning what kind of agent she was in the past.

I'd like to think in the hierarchy of Kingsman she's a step below Merlin in Kingsman HQ, and the only difference is seniority at Kingsman HQ. Merlin is more software and tech, Scotch is more Hardware and tech. They work together to make Kingsman top notch and does admire his work and him as a person. She doesn’t have the authority to ground Arty (that’s on Merlin) but has the authority to get him grounded if need be.

She doesn’t have much say who goes on missions like Merlin does, she’ll be in charge of getting to know the agent, readying vehicles and planes for the mission assigned as best as she can, including agent training. If Cador is the eyes and ears, she'd their wheels and wings and will be there for tech support.

To be fair I think it’s pretty reasonable for her to be angry when a multimillion dollar project she's working on get trashed or worse, when an agent endangers themselves unnecessarily due to an engineering problem on her end. She already blames her own recklessness for what happened to Gin and she doesn't want it to happen again at Kingsman. She probably doesn't have the heart to be a full handler like Merlin and Cador.

Cador probably will find her under a desk with a bottle, hugging her dog a few times. And maybe even console her. (It could be very sweet, and I’m tempted to have her melt his old heart. -cue fluff/angsty thread ideas-)

@thespieswholovedme