#Forward Collision Warning System

[navigatingthefutureofadas]

Enhancing Fleet Safety with Collision Warning Systems

mplementing a Collision Warning System (CWS) is crucial for fleet safety. These systems help prevent accidents by alerting drivers to potential collisions. Key benefits include:

Early Warnings: CWS provides real-time alerts about imminent collisions, giving drivers time to react.

Accident Reduction: With timely warnings, the risk of accidents decreases, ensuring safer journeys.

Cost Savings: Fewer accidents mean lower repair and insurance costs.

For an in-depth understanding, check out the full article.

[vmantras]

BYD eMAX 7 Superior: The Ultimate Electric MUV for Families

₹29.9 Lakh Overview and General Features The BYD eMAX 7 Superior is an all-electric Multi-Utility Vehicle (MUV) that offers a spacious 7-seater configuration, making it suitable for larger families or anyone requiring a high level of interior space. The model comes in four attractive colors: Quartz Blue, Cosmos Black, Crystal White, and Harbour Grey. It features a 6-year/1.5 lakh kilometers…

[leeb57555]

Truck Platooning Market Analysis by Trends, Size, Share, Growth Opportunities, and Emerging Technologies

It is common to hear in the news that a truck met with an accident, and the truck driver got badly injured or died. According to the data of National Safety Council, 5700 large trucks were involved in a fatal crash in 2021, which was 18% more than the preceding year.

So, the challenges involved in the day-to-day job of a truck driver on the job is a big reason for the shortage of labor in the industry. Trucking also involves long, hours spent squeezed into a cab. There are strict deadlines to be met, and this job requires the utmost attention. It is important that quality of life of the trucker should be improved, and truck platooning can surely help you with the way forward.

It is a Semi-Autonomous Approach

If you talk about platooning, it does not replace the existing trucks with a driverless solution, so, it is clear that it is not about full autonomy. Yes, you can always think of platooning as a strategy, which is made possible with the help of the developments in the field of connected driving.

Platooning is when many trucks, in the guidance of a lead truck can follow each other closely. These can accelerate, break, and take a turn while semi-automatic features in the lead truck reduces the probability of human error. Although, the lead truck is controlling the fleet, the following trucks will also have drivers so that they can complete their scheduled deliveries, by breaking the chain.

Fuel Costs are Reduced Considerably

It is not just about enhanced safety but, platooning can do good for the truck drivers and the trucking companies as well. By letting trucks to drive in close proximity, there is a reduction of the aerodynamic drag and the space taken by the trucks on the road, reducing the costs of fuel.

Room For Relaxation on the Roads

This might spring a surprise to many that how it is possible to have a room for relaxation, and that too while driving such a heavy vehicle, like truck. But, believe me it is true.

Platooning also enhances the experience of trucking. Drivers in the trucks, following the lead feel comfortable because of the presence of technology. It allows them to take their foot of the pedal and relax.

The Concept of Tele-Trucking

With the improvement in technology, platooning could transform the trucking industry. Drivers can monitor and operate their trucks remotely. And many drivers could work from the same room, decreasing the level of loneliness.

Get More Insights: Truck Platooning Market Analysis and Demand Forecast Report

There is often a threat to people with technology, that it could replace people but it is too hard to be true. With the implementation of truck platooning, it will not replace people, but it would take out the dullness from their jobs and make it more enjoyable.

Final Sum Up

It is quite clear that due to the need for safer road transport by the people, and to make the life of the truckers a bit easier, the demand for truck platooning will continue to advance in the future.

[blueberrybirdsworld]

Collision 3/20

Summary:

Lando always had a type : blonde, models, not ready to settle down. Yet once he met her, all his world is changed and he slowly start to realises maybe he was wrong all this time.

It's a prequel story of The Cat Distribution System, on how Lando Norris fall in love with Ariana. Could be read seperatly.

Pairing : lando norris x original female character

Genre : Fluff, slow burn, enventual smut

Warning : none

Serie Masterlist

CHAPTER 3 :

The Royal Opera House in Covent Garden stood like a monument to a time when art was worshipped like religion. Tonight, its grand entrance gleamed under a halo of soft amber lights, a string quartet playing near the entrance as elegant guests stepped from black cabs and town cars, their breath visible in the cold air. 

Inside, everything glowed: marble floors reflecting chandeliers, velvet staircases winding upward like ribbon, golden balconies, the scent of expensive perfume and old wood. People murmured in soft voices, as if too loud a sound would shatter the illusion. 

Lando Norris stood near the entrance, hands shoved in his pockets, tugging a little at the stiff collar of his tailored black suit. 

“This is a bit much,” he muttered. 

Pietra turned and shot him a look. “This, is culture. Behave yourself.” 

Max adjusted his cufflinks beside him, eyeing the crowd like he wasn’t sure he belonged on. “Did you really drag us to a ballet?” 

Pietra’s eyes twinkled. “Not just a ballet. The Nutcracker. Classic. Winter tradition. Magic. Glitter. Men in tights. Dreams.” 

Lando lifted a brow. “Men in tights, huh?” 

“Oh, grow up,” she laughed, swatting his arm. “It’s a masterpiece. And it’ll be good for you.” 

“Good for me how?” 

“Perspective,” she said smugly. “You’re always going on about cars and adrenaline and lap times. Well, try precision, beauty, and five pirouettes en pointe. Let’s see you do that.” 

“I drive at 300km/h for a living,” he said dryly. 

“And tonight you’ll sit still for two hours and appreciate that not everything is solved by horsepower,” Pietra countered. “Now straighten your jacket, we’re in a royal box. This is the Royal Opera House. Respect the moment.” 

Lando sighed but complied, pulling at the lapel of his suit jacket. The group—dressed to the nines—ascended the staircase like tourists who had accidentally wandered into the dream of a duchess. The women glittered in long satin dresses, the men striking in black tie and sleek silhouettes. 

And though Lando looked good he felt like he was walking through someone else’s story. The grandness, the quiet, the elegance—it wasn’t Monaco nightclubs or paddock chaos. It was another world entirely. 

Inside their box, the lights dimmed. 

Pietra leaned forward, eyes wide and sparkling. “Okay, okay, so,” she whispered like a child about to spill a secret. “The Nutcracker is a two-act ballet. In the first act, there’s a Christmas party, and a girl named Clara gets this magical nutcracker doll from a mysterious man. That night, everything becomes enchanted. The doll comes to life, there’s a fight with the Mouse King—don’t laugh—and then the nutcracker transforms into a prince.” 

Max leaned closer. “And then?” 

“Then they travel to the Land of Sweets, meet all these magical characters from different countries, and it’s all dreamy and symbolic and kind of romantic.” 

“And people like this?” Lando asked, genuinely puzzled. 

Pietra grinned. “People love this. Watch. You’ll see.” 

The lights dimmed further. 

A hush fell over the entire theatre. 

And then, the curtain rose. 

It started gently. A twinkling overture, warm lights over a wintry backdrop of a Christmas tree and glittering snow. Children ran across the stage in costumes, dancers moved in character, graceful and composed. 

Lando was watching with polite curiosity when, halfway through the first act, everything shifted. 

The moment she stepped onto the stage, it was like time paused. 

Ariana. 

His breath caught. 

No warning. No introduction. No spotlight drama. 

She entered as if summoned by the music, wearing a pale blush gown that shimmered under the lights, hair pulled back with a delicate silver ribbon. She was Clara. The Clara. The lead. 

Lando blinked once. Twice. 

His heart was suddenly very loud. 

Pietra’s mouth dropped open. 

“Oh my god,” she whispered. “That’s her.” 

Lando didn’t move. He couldn’t. His eyes were locked on her. 

She floated across the stage—not just graceful, not just pretty—but impossibly, breathtakingly alive in a way he hadn’t seen before. Every movement was deliberate, yet effortless. She leapt and landed like gravity didn’t apply to her. She spun in tight, impossible circles, arms open as if catching stars. 

She wasn’t just performing. 

She was the story. 

And suddenly, Lando understood. 

Why she moved like that. Why she held herself the way she did. Why she had looked at him like noise in a quiet room. Because this—this was her universe. This was the language she spoke. 

And he’d never even asked. 

He felt a strange, tight twist in his chest. A mix of shame and awe. 

He hadn’t known. 

Hadn’t known she was this. 

Throughout the rest of the ballet, he barely blinked. 

He wasn’t the only one. The entire box was mesmerized. Even Max, who had made at least three jokes on the way in about falling asleep during the performance, now leaned forward, chin in hand, watching every scene like he was afraid to miss something. 

They watched Ariana twirl through snowstorms, dance with the Nutcracker Prince, glide through dreamscapes and magic lands. Her expressions were soft and full of wonder, her body arching in impossible angles, muscles whispering with the kind of strength he hadn’t realized ballet required. 

There were no words spoken on stage. 

But Lando had never felt someone say so much with silence. 

When the final curtain fell, the theatre erupted in applause. 

The entire company bowed. 

And then Ariana stepped forward, alone, bathed in golden light, cheeks flushed from exertion but serene, glowing. She bowed deep, arms sweeping with practiced elegance. 

Lando clapped, but he couldn’t stop staring. Something twisted hard inside him again—like the moment you realize you’ve underestimated someone so completely it hurts. 

Pietra leaned in close. “So… still think ballet’s boring?” 

He swallowed. “She didn’t tell me.” 

“Tell you what?” 

“What she does. Who she is.” 

“Well, you didn’t actually ask,” Pietra said gently.

The applause was still echoing in Lando’s ears when they stepped back into the velvet-lined corridors of the Royal Opera House. The performance had ended, but he felt like he was still inside it somehow—like something had cracked open inside him and the air hadn’t quite settled. 

Pietra turned to the group, eyes alight with the glow of champagne and satisfaction. 

“So,” she said, with the flair of someone about to drop a bomb, “slight update. These weren’t just regular tickets.” 

Max raised a brow. “Pietra…” 

“They were donor tickets. Which means…” she leaned in closer, “they come with an invite to the post-show gala.” 

“What gala?” Lando asked, distracted. 

She grinned. “The gala. In the grand reception room. Dinner, champagne, the company dancers mingling with donors and patrons. Which means…” she gave Lando a pointed look, “she will be there.” 

Lando’s pulse jumped before he could stop it. 

He didn’t answer. He didn’t need to. 

Five minutes later, he was striding through the gilded maze of corridors, ascending the wide staircase toward the reception hall, his jacket adjusted just enough to pass for elegant despite the nervous energy thrumming beneath it. 

The gala was already in full swing. 

Crystal chandeliers spilled golden light over towering arrangements of white roses. Waiters in white gloves wove through clusters of well-dressed guests with silver trays of champagne and amuse-bouches. A small quartet played softly in the corner, the music smooth and expensive. 

And then—like a moment conjured from thin air— 

She entered. 

Ariana. 

Her hair was pulled into a sleek high ponytail, the ends curled slightly and brushing her bare back. She wore a floor-length white silk gown that clung to her like poured light. The back dipped scandalously low, revealing the clean lines of her spine and the soft muscles of her shoulders. The neckline was delicate, held by thin straps, the fabric moving like water as she walked in heels she made seem silent. 

He didn’t have the words for it. 

Maybe no one did. 

And apparently, he wasn’t the only one who thought so. 

Almost instantly, she was surrounded. Dancers from the company enveloped her with cheers and laughter, their energy infectious. Some older patrons came forward, offering her flowers wrapped in tissue paper, others fawning with compliments, air kisses, and flutes of champagne she accepted with elegant restraint. 

Lando watched from a distance, frozen in place. 

Then he arrived. 

The lead dancer from the ballet. 

Tall, chiseled, with cheekbones sharp enough to cut glass, and a dancer’s arrogant poise. He wore a midnight blue tuxedo that looked custom, his dark blond hair slicked back, smile gleaming like it had been rehearsed. And he greeted her like they were the only two people in the room. 

His hand went to her waist first—innocent. Then her back. Lower. Too low. 

Lando’s jaw tightened. 

They were laughing at something. She leaned in to whisper something in his ear, and the dancer grinned like he’d just won a game no one else had even noticed being played. 

Max appeared beside Lando with a champagne flute. “Dude. You look like you’re ready to fight someone.” 

Lando didn’t respond. 

“You gonna talk to her?” 

“I’m trying,” he muttered. “But she’s surrounded.” 

“And the blond guy?” 

“Don’t ask.” 

Pietra sidled up next, watching Ariana like a hawk. “She’s like… otherworldly tonight.” 

“She always is,” Lando murmured. 

Pietra glanced sideways at him, then smirked. “You’re so screwed.” 

It was almost an hour after that Ariana slipped away. 

He saw her excuse herself from the circle gently, handing her untouched champagne to someone else, her smile soft but clearly rehearsed. She walked through the tall glass doors onto the balcony that overlooked Covent Garden below, the city twinkling with holiday lights. 

She stood there alone, arms resting lightly on the marble edge, her gown catching the breeze. 

Lando didn’t wait. 

He moved. 

Quiet steps. Fast heart. 

When he stepped onto the balcony, she turned—slowly, calmly. Her expression unreadable. 

There was a long pause before either of them spoke. 

“You followed me,” she said, voice soft, without surprise. 

“You left the room,” he replied. 

“Not everyone would follow.” 

“I’m not everyone.” 

Her gaze lingered on him for a moment longer. Then she turned back to the city lights. 

He took a breath. “You were incredible tonight.” 

A pause. 

“Thank you.” 

“No,” he said, stepping closer. “I mean… really. I didn’t know. I didn’t know that was you. That you could do… that.” 

She tilted her head slightly, looking at him from the corner of her eye. “You never asked.” 

The words landed like a dart. 

“I should have asked.” he admitted.  

A flicker of something passed over her features—disbelief, or maybe disappointment. 

“You didn’t seem that interested.” 

“I was,” he said quickly. “I am.” 

“But only now,” she said, her voice still calm, but with a slight edge. “Only after you saw me on stage. In a silk dress. Under lights.” 

“That’s not true,” he said, stepping closer again. “I just didn’t know how to talk to you. You… you’re—” 

“Different?” 

He hesitated. “Not what I’m used to.” 

She gave a small laugh, almost bitter. “That much is clear.” 

He stepped closer, so close now the chill of the air seemed to warm between them. 

“I didn’t come out here to fight,” he said, quieter now. “I just… needed to talk to you.” 

“You’re doing that,” she said, her tone unreadable. “But why?” 

He looked at her for a long moment. Then asked, quietly, “Can I ask you something first?” 

She nodded, cautiously. 

“Do you even know what I do?” 

Ariana blinked, taken off guard. “No,” she admitted. 

Lando gave a crooked smile. “Formula One driver.” 

She stiffened. Visibly. 

He watched the breath leave her lungs, slow and sharp like a cold wave. 

“That’s sound… dangerous.” 

“Sometimes, yeah.” 

She turned to face him fully now, the silk of her gown catching moonlight, her arms crossing lightly in front of her body. “I don’t like dangerous things.” 

He tilted his head. “Why not?” 

“I prefer things I can control,” she said simply. “A set rhythm. A choreographed routine. No improvisation. Nothing sudden or reckless.” 

He smiled—just a little. “I’m sudden and reckless.” 

She didn’t smile back. “I noticed.” 

There was a quiet beat between them, the breeze fluttering a piece of her hair across her cheek. She didn’t move to brush it away. 

“I like being surprised,” Lando said. “The adrenaline, the edge of not knowing what’s coming. That’s… where I live.” 

“Sounds exhausting.” 

“Maybe.” He took a small step forward, dropping his voice lower. “But it’s also kind of beautiful, if you learn how to see it. You should come watch sometime.” 

She raised an eyebrow. 

“Just once,” he said. “You let me into your world tonight. Let me show you mine.” 

“I don’t like danger,” she repeated, but softer this time. 

He gave her a look that lingered, slow and deliberate. “Maybe you don’t hate it as much as you think.” 

The tension between them shifted again—less prickly now, more charged. Her lips parted like she wanted to speak but changed her mind. 

“You really didn’t know I was a dancer?” she asked, quietly. 

“No. And I don’t know why it makes me feel like I’ve missed a hundred important things.” 

“You did.” 

Her voice was soft. Closer now. He could see the curve of her collarbone, the gentle rise and fall of her breath. 

“I want to know them now,” he said. 

She searched his face, something undecided flickering behind her eyes. Then he ask— 

“That dancer earlier. The one who played the prince.” 

Ariana stiffened. “We trained together since we were thirteen. He’s like a brother.” 

“…Didn’t look like a brother.” 

She smirked. “You’re jealous.” 

He didn’t deny it. 

“You’re possessive for someone who barely knows me,” she said, stepping a little closer. Just enough for her perfume—something floral, sweet, and faintly powdery—to wrap around him. 

“I want to change that,” he said, voice low. “The barely part.” 

The distance between them had all but vanished. 

A wind passed through the balcony, her silk skirt brushing his legs, her ponytail swaying softly. Her eyes searched his face—carefully, cautiously. 

“Still not sure about you,” she whispered. 

“Good,” he whispered back. “I’m not sure about me either.” 

Her lips parted. 

Then— Someone called her name from inside. The spell shattered. 

She stepped back, visibly pulling herself together. 

“I should go,” she said gently. 

Lando nodded, pulse thudding. 

But as he turned to leave, she called softly, “Lando?” 

He paused. 

Her eyes met his, one last time. 

“You look good in a suit.” 

Taglist : @angelluv16, @httpsxnox, @anunstablefangirl, @chocolatemagazinecupcake, @mayax2o07, @freyathehuntress, @verogonewild

Let me know if you wanted to be added to the taglist !

[kenzdolls]

𝐀 𝐁𝐈𝐑𝐓𝐇𝐃𝐀𝐘 𝐓𝐎 𝐑𝐄𝐌𝐄𝐌𝐁𝐄𝐑

𖤐 synopsis: it’s tomura’s birthday! so what better way than to celebrate it with him?

𖤐 trigger warnings: fluff!

𖤐 pairing: shigaraki tomura x gender neutral! reader

The soft glow of your phone illuminated your face as you checked the time once more: 11:47 PM, April 3rd. In just thirteen minutes, it would officially be Shigaraki Tomura's birthday. You smiled to yourself, knowing he probably didn't expect anyone to remember—least of all you, considering how your relationship had begun.

Your mind drifted back to your first encounter with the League of Villains' leader. It wasn't exactly a meet-cute; more like a collision of worlds that neither of you had anticipated. Yet somehow, against all odds, a connection had formed between you—tentative at first, then undeniable as time went on.

Shigaraki was asleep in the next room. You had convinced him to let you stay over tonight with some flimsy excuse about apartment renovations, hiding your true intentions. The cake was hidden in the back of his refrigerator, a small vanilla affair with minimal decoration—anything too elaborate would have aroused his suspicion. The gift, wrapped in simple black paper, was tucked away in your overnight bag.

The minutes ticked by. 11:55 PM.

You slipped out of the guest room and padded quietly to the kitchen. The hideout was silent except for the occasional creak of the old building settling. You removed the cake from its hiding spot and placed a single candle in the center. No need for twenty-something candles; Shigaraki wouldn't appreciate the fire hazard anyway.

11:59 PM.

Heart pounding, you lit the candle and carefully made your way to his bedroom door. You balanced the cake in one hand and knocked softly with the other.

"What?" His voice came through the door, alert despite the hour. Of course he wasn't asleep. When did Shigaraki ever sleep properly?

"Can I come in?" you called softly.

A pause, then: "Fine."

You pushed open the door with your foot to find him sitting up in bed, the harsh light of a gaming console illuminating his face. His pale blue hair was messier than usual, falling haphazardly around his face. His red eyes widened slightly at the sight of you holding the cake.

"Happy birthday," you said, smiling as the digital clock on his nightstand clicked over to 12:00 AM.

He stared at you, then at the cake, his expression unreadable. "How did you know?"

You entered the room fully, setting the cake down on his desk. "I have my sources," you replied with a mysterious smile. In truth, you had overheard Kurogiri mentioning it to Dabi weeks ago and had been planning this moment ever since.

"You didn't have to do this," he muttered, but you noticed he didn't take his eyes off the cake.

"I wanted to." You sat on the edge of his bed. "Make a wish?"

Shigaraki scoffed, but he set aside his console and moved to the desk. "Wishes are for children."

"Humor me?"

He gave you a look that might have been intimidating to anyone else, but you'd grown accustomed to his attempts to appear disinterested. With an exaggerated sigh, he leaned forward and blew out the candle in one quick breath.

"What did you wish for?" you asked.

"If I tell you, it won't come true," he replied sarcastically, but there was a hint of amusement in his voice. "Isn't that how the superstition goes?"

You laughed and retrieved your gift from your bag. "Here. It's not much, but..."

Shigaraki took the package with surprising gentleness. His fingers worked carefully at the wrapping paper, methodically removing it without tearing it—so different from his usual destructive tendencies. Inside was a custom controller for his favorite gaming system, matte black with hand-painted details that matched his aesthetic.

"I noticed your current one was getting worn out," you explained when he didn't immediately respond. "And I added some modifications that should improve the response time for those games you like."

He turned the controller over in his hands, examining it from every angle. "You made this?"

You nodded, suddenly feeling nervous. "Do you like it?"

Instead of answering, he set the controller down carefully and looked at you with an intensity that made your breath catch. "Why do you do this?"

"Do what?"

"Care." The word seemed to cost him something to say. "About me. About my birthday. About any of this."

You moved closer to him, brave in the quiet darkness of the early morning. "Because you matter to me, Tomura. Because everyone deserves to be remembered on their birthday."

"Even villains?" There was a challenge in his voice, but also vulnerability that he rarely allowed anyone to hear.

"Especially you." You reached for his hand, interlacing your fingers with his. "The world might see Shigaraki Tomura, leader of the League of Villains. But I see you."

Something shifted in his expression then, the hardness momentarily giving way to something softer, more human. He squeezed your hand gently.

"Thank you," he said, the words coming out slightly stiff, as if he wasn't used to saying them—which he probably wasn't.

You smiled and reached for the cake. "Now, do you want to eat this, or should I have gone with the ice cream option instead?"

He gave you one of his rare, genuine half-smiles. "Cake is fine. But only because you went to the trouble."

As you cut slices for both of you, you caught him looking at you with an expression you couldn't quite decipher—something between wonder and confusion, as if he couldn't quite believe you were really there, celebrating his birthday with him at midnight.

"What?" you asked, handing him a slice.

"Nothing," he said, taking the cake. Then, more quietly: "Just... no one's done this for me in a long time."

Your heart ached at the implication. How many birthdays had he spent alone? How many years had passed without anyone marking the occasion?

"Well," you said, keeping your tone light despite the emotion welling in your chest, "get used to it. I plan on celebrating many more birthdays with you."

His eyes met yours, searching for any sign of insincerity. Finding none, he nodded once, a barely perceptible movement.

"I might not hate that," he admitted, which from Shigaraki was practically a declaration of affection.

You ate cake together in comfortable silence, the soft glow of his desk lamp casting long shadows across the room. Outside, the world continued to turn, heroes and villains alike sleeping through the first hours of April 4th, unaware of this quiet moment between you and the man society had deemed irredeemable.

But you knew better. Here, in this space you'd created together, he wasn't the villain from the news reports. He was just Tomura, eating birthday cake at midnight, occasionally glancing at you as if to reassure himself you were still there.

Later, as dawn approached and you both grew tired, you found yourself curled against his side, his arm tentatively around your shoulders as you watched him play with his new controller.

"Best birthday?" you asked sleepily.

He was quiet for so long you thought he might not answer. Then, so softly you almost missed it:

"Yes."

And as you drifted off to sleep beside him, you knew that whatever tomorrow held—whatever plans the League had, whatever conflicts awaited—you had given Shigaraki Tomura this one perfect moment. A birthday to remember.

mutuals: @haikyuubby @https-bakugo @va-3 @kitkat13001 @lotusstarr @shigarakislaughter

© 𝐊𝐄𝐍𝐙𝐃𝐎𝐋𝐋𝐒 𝟐𝟎𝟐𝟓 —

[chippedchina-teacup]

Summary: She's the youngest, the newest, and yet she has lived a thousand lives worth of grief. When she thinks she's found something that might bring her some happiness, even if only for a little while, it ends - just like it always does. But Booker? He will always be there for her.

Word Count: 2,919

Warnings: It's mostly just sad. The reader's mother dies after being sick for a long time, and a lot of people in her life have died, There's a toxic relationship, and I guess you could say there's an age difference but when you're literally going to live forever it kind of becomes a moot point.

A/N: I wrote this ages ago for a blog the no longer exists because I deleted the account. Anyway, I promised a backlog of my old work and this definitely counts. Please enjoy my shitty writing from back when the world was entirely shut down for four years.

You had told him you couldn’t die.

Which was true. Technically you were immortal; you didn’t like that word. A lifetime spent studying too many myths, too many legends, too many religions had guaranteed that. So, you told him you were deathless.

And he had left.

You had called him, of course. He had answered the first time, and called you a fucking bitch, he’d told you to fuck off. You could tell he was drunk. The second time, he answered, and then he put you on speaker phone and had you listen to him fucking another woman for fifteen minutes before the shock of him doing such a thing wore off enough for you to hang up.

The third time, he didn’t answer at all.

You had cried then. Buried your face in your hands and sobbed. Choking on air, and unable to catch your breath. Booker had found you like that, on the front steps of the safe house in your pretty new dress, that you had worn because you’d thought he might like it, with tears in your eyes and a broken heart.

Seeing you like that was enough make him angry. Not his usual, depressed and defeated anger that was directed at the world for damning him to this hollow existence, but the kind of anger that made his vision flash white hot with rage, and made him clench his fists until the skin broke, and blood dried under his nails. The kind of anger he hadn’t felt in nearly a hundred years. The kind that couldn’t have been chased away by scotch or brandy or anything.

——

You were the youngest of them all; younger, even, than Nile. You had never been a warrior, or a fighter. You were a girl who couldn’t catch a break, and this was the latest in a long list of horrible, shitty, things to be thrown at you, that never should have been.

At 19, you had died in a car crash after a drunk driver hit you head on. There was nothing you could have done, and first responders were unsure how you were able to walk away from the crash without a scratch, when the car itself had been nearly unrecognizable. Your older brother had not been so lucky - his neck had been snapped when the force of the collision had pushed him forward in his seat, and then back all too suddenly.

Andy, Nicky, and Joe had found you the next week, sitting next to a hospital bed where your mother lay dying a slow painful death - the same way she had been for the last ten years.

She had been barely conscious, laying there on the hospital bed, unable to do or say anything due to her tracheostomy, and the cocktail of pain meds swirling through her system, providing what meagre comfort they could.

You had been curled up as small as possible in an armchair at her bedside, with your knees, covered in the black material of a pair of leggings, tucked up to almost under your chin.

You were dosing uneasily, likely having nightmares about their own deaths. One Air Pod, in the other nowhere to be seen, nose twitching slightly, brows furrowing and relaxing over and over again, the front of a men’s flannel clutched tight in one hand, to ward off the cold air blowing from the vent above your chair. The other holding your phone in a white knuckled grip.

The front of your Ramones shirt only just visible, and the laces of one of your converse undone and hanging over the edge of the chair.

Andy had told the receptionist she was your aunt. Nicky and Joe had said they were your brother and brother-in-law. The receptionist was too busy reading Cosmo to bother asking for ID.

Nile had been trying to track down Booker. They had said 100 years, and had it not been for you, it would have been. But none of them had had dreams of dying the way you had, and none of them knew what to do about it. The others hadn’t been sure that finding him and ending his exile early was the best decision, but Nile had insisted, and she had made some rather sound arguments in her attempt to convince the others. Or at least, she had come up with semi-reasonable reasons until not agreeing made them all feel like assholes.

——

She had finally found him in a seedy looking bar somewhere in Paris. It was barely five years in, and already Nile could tell that he wouldn’t have made it much more than another year without a psychotic break. She’d sat down on the barstool next to him and ordered a glass of water and a cup of strong coffee. It took entirely too long for Booker to even notice she was sitting there, and even then, it was only because she slid the coffee mug in front of him, and told the bartender that he’d had enough.

He’d looked up with a drunken smirk, and a hollow laugh, and asked, somewhat vaguely, if the hundred years were up already.

Nile shook her head and said “No.” before filling him in on the new immortal that was joining their rag-tag little family.

Booker hadn’t thought that was reason enough to end his exile, his own guilt telling him that he didn’t deserve to see his family again so soon. But Nile had insisted. And then the bartender had told them they were closing, and that they needed to “Get the fuck out,” in heavily accented English, so they’d gone back to his shitty little apartment in an even shittier part of Paris, that no one who hadn’t been to Paris would have ever associated with the city.

They’d stood in his tiny kitchen sipping cups of too strong coffee that Nile had made, and then mistakenly burned, using a cheap moka pot that one of the previous tenants had left behind in cabinet Booker hadn’t even opened yet. He’d moved after Quynh had shown up. It seemed like her centuries spent drowning had changed her from the woman Andy had known, and he knew that whatever trouble and bitterness she might bring, that was the last thing he’d needed. It was the only smart decision he’d made recently, and he wasn’t even sure how sober he’d been.

Nile had spent the night. She’d slept in his room - almost passed out once her head hit the pillow, and Booker had taken the lumpy sofa in the living room, not that there was much distinction between the two rooms, and spent most of the night staring blankly at the tin ceiling tiles, the paint peeling off them from years of neglect, occasionally gulping down a few mouthfuls of the cheap brandy he’d found under the sink - the way it tasted, it might as well have been gasoline with an only vaguely raisin-y aftertaste.

The next morning, they’d found themselves on a military cargo plane returning stateside from Germany, and they’d had to get up far too early for Booker’s taste. Nile, of course, had seemed unaffected by the early wake up, followed by the moderately long, four and a half hour, drive to an American air base in Germany, and seemed perfectly at ease on the trip. He wondered if Andy or Copley had been the one to arrange transportation, or if Nile had managed this one herself.

Eight hours later had found them in New York, and boarding another flight, this one on a commercial airline, to Seattle. Joe had met them there, and only paused to explain that Andy and Nicky had stayed with you in the hospital.

——

You had been shaken awake by a warm hand on your shoulder, the first thing you saw being a pair of gentle brown eyes belonging to an unfamiliar man with an Italian accent. Another man, this one with dark curly hair and a beard, was standing behind him, a sad smile barely touched his lips, and for a second you assumed the worst, and turned your head in your mother’s direction, not facing the two men again until you saw her chest rise and fall once more with a labored, shuddering breath. 

The heart monitor had long since lost any reassuring meaning with it’s almost painfully consistent beeping. Seeing her breath always did more to reassure you, especially as her condition had worsened.

It was only then that you took notice of the woman standing by the door.

Andy had been the most surprised when you hadn’t needed much convincing to believe that you were immortal. Maybe it was because Nile had refused to believe her even after she’d shot her in the head, or maybe it was because you had just accepted the news and hadn’t needed any proof or evidence that she was the only one of them that could die - and that even that had been a rather recent development. 

Whatever the case, your newfound immortality had obviously not been your primary concern at the moment. If anything, you had seemed resigned to the fact that you would outlive all your loved ones, and it wasn’t until she looked at the bed with your mother in it that she realized; you already had.

When the heart monitor had flatlined, you’d simply grabbed your canvas messenger bag from where it was located next to your chair, moved the chair back to its original position closer to the wall, and moved out of the nurses’ way as the came rushing into the room with a crash cart. You had mumbled a quite “Goodbye, Mom.” and made your way into the hallway to wait for the doctor to tell you, officially, that your mother had died.

It sounded cruel if you said it out loud, but you hoped she had. Ten years in pain as her body slowly consumed itself was not something she had deserved.

It was only two hours later when your mother’s doctor had come out to tell you something you already knew. You would have expected him to come out sooner, but they had rushed her into emergency surgery - something about trying to drain fluid from somewhere it shouldn’t have been. You had nodded and remained calm. 

He had known you since you were a child, seen you lose your dad to alcohol, and then your grandmother - who had taken care of you and your brother after your mom got sick - to old age, she’d died peacefully in her sleep, and you were only glad she hadn’t had to identify your brother in the morgue.

He knew you wouldn’t say yes, but he asked if you wanted to say goodbye anyway. You simply shook your head, smiled sadly, and said you had a long drive home, and needed to be leaving soon. Joe had already left half an hour ago to pick up someone named “Nile”, and maybe someone else named “Booker”. He hadn’t seemed particularly happy about the second person.

——

The next morning was almost eerie in its normalcy. You woke up early, ignored the polite but artificial condolences being offered by your neighbors who had either stopped by with a casserole or a who had called far too early in the morning - how anyone knew that your mother had died the night before you would never know, but small towns have their way of knowing what’s happened in someone’s life before they should - and let Joe and the other two unfamiliar people who were with him in when he called through the screen door of the laundry room, open only so people would stop ringing the damn doorbell at a quarter past eight in the morning.

You made breakfast like you normally would for yourself and your brother, except you made five times as much, and then you ignored the pancakes and the bacon and the eggs, and opted instead for a cup of black coffee, hoping it would settle your churning stomach.

Everyone seemed to enjoy their food, and they talked softly at the dining table as they ate, while you sat on the kitchen counter, nursing a third cup of coffee, then a fourth, and sneaking occasional glances at Booker.

He hadn’t been one of the ones you’d met at the hospital. He was one of the ones Joe had picked up from the airport. He hadn’t been saying much at the table and was the first one done with his breakfast. It only surprised you a little when he had appeared next to you, and placed his dishes in the sink, before leaning against the counter. He hadn’t said anything, but something about him was comfortable, it drew you in, and for some strange reason, you found yourself laying your head against his should without even realizing it.

Booker had been surprised by the action. No one acted like this around him. And he had absolutely no clue why you, a nineteen-year-old girl and the reason why his exile had been cut short by 95 years, might be as apparently comfortable in his presence as you were. All he knew was that there was some kind of a connection. Whatever it might be, the two of you - despite many apparent differences - would get along well. There wasn’t any particular reason to believe that to be the case, but somehow you both seemed know. 

And the others, they noticed it too. In less than an hour of knowing each other, you already felt comfortable enough rest you head on his shoulder, and Booker, seemingly unknowingly, had instinctively wrapped an arm around your waist to keep you from falling forward, as you drifted off to sleep.

——

That had all been ten years ago. Meeting everyone, your mother dying. Finding out about your immortality and becoming inexplicably close with Booker almost immediately. In that time, you had found someone you had thought you could have learned to love, and Booker, despite trying his best not to, had fallen in love with you.

It had taken a while. You had had to settle into a new life in a new country – in multiple new countries. You’d had to learn languages you’d never have had any use for before, something that was made much easier with Booker’s help. You’d had to figure out your relationships with your new family.

But eventually, you had settled. Nicky and Joe were sort of a cross between older brothers and fathers to you. Likewise, Andy had essentially decided that you were going to be a sort of niece or younger sister to her. She hadn’t really known how to act around you at first, you were basically a teenager when you first met, and she had tried to act a bit like a mother to you at first, without taking the place of either your mother or grandmother, and then she realized that you were far older than your age, and you’d both been able to relax around each other.

Nile almost immediately became like a sister to you. You were both the youngest, and you both had the most culturally similar childhoods to each other.

Your relationship with Booker, however, was never solely platonic. You were always the closest to him, and he to you - something that shocked everyone, even him. You would usually seek him out when nightmares of drowning or of watching your brother’s neck snap as you were unable to do anything to help plagued your sleep, or when you needed a shoulder to cry on. Somehow, he always knew what to say.

When you had first called him and asked him if he could pick you up after your ex had first made you cry, he had wanted to find him, and hurt him the way he had hurt you.

He hadn’t, if only for your sake.

The second time he had simply found a way to distract you - no one had believed Joe when he had told them that he had found the two of you slow dancing in the living room at midnight, your head laying against his chest, soft smiles on both of your faces as you had been spun slowly about the living room in time with the quite music playing from the old record player in the corner.

The third time he had simply wrapped a warm blanket around your shoulders, handed you a glass of brandy, that for once didn’t taste like gasoline, and pulled you into his chest where he gently combed through your hair with his fingers until you fell asleep - Andy and Nile had found you both on the sofa the next morning, Booker’s arms wrapped around you protectively, and they had both started to wonder if Joe had been telling the truth about the two of you dancing in the living room.

This time, however, was too much. Once he had found you on the front steps, he had managed to get you to calm down enough to tell him what happened. And the only thing he could think to do was wrap an arm around you the way he always seemed to, and murmur quietly “I may not know what love is, but I sure know what love ain’t.”

And somehow, that had made you smile again, and while there were still tears in your eyes and your dress was still dusty from sitting on the steps where you were, you had never looked more beautiful.

[peachy-panic]

‘ lay back down. ’ for Jaime

WARNINGS: heavily implied noncon, BBU “training,” punishment, maybe considered mouth whump?

Handler Smith drags him down the hallway by his hair. Frantic apologies spill from Jaime, along with tears that blur the other handlers and trainees—prisoners—passing by. None of them spare a look his way. Here, everyone is contained in their own special hell with no room for anyone’s suffering but their own.

They come to a stop outside one of the specialty rooms at the end of the block. Panic floods his system. “No,” Jaime cries, pulling against the hold despite the sharp sting in his scalp. “Please, I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”

Handler Smith yanks him forward and Jaime crumbles to his knees, the fear and adrenaline and hunger turning his limbs to jelly. The moment the door scans open, he is tossed inside, barely saving his face from a collision with the concrete floor.

“On the table.” The hand is in his hair again before he can recover his balance, forcing him along. Jaime begs the entire way, desperate to apparel to some sliver of humanity he knows doesn’t exist.

“Please. I’ll do it. I’ll do it, I’m sorry.”

“Get on the fucking table.” His back slams against cold steel. Jaime can’t help but kick out when he hears the jingle of metal. He’s been on this table, at the mercy of these restraints, enough times to know that nothing good ever happens in this room.

His resistance is beyond futile. In the end, Jaime knows it will only anger him further, and his muscles are the weakest they have ever been, but terror is at the helm now and fighting like a drowning man. When Handler Smith gathers his wrists in one hand and pushes them to the head of the table, Jaime lurches upward, throwing all of weight into escape. He manages to pull one arm free, but before he can maneuver away, a hand around his throat flattens him back down.

“Lay back down,” Smith growls, inches from his face. Stars dance in Jaime’s vision as the fingers close in, tighter and tighter. His vision goes spotty, then black, for just a second. But it’s just enough to get the drop on him. When he can draw a full breath again, his hands are already cuffed above his head.

Jaime submits to crying quietly as his ankles are secured at both corners. He follows the heavy thud of the Handler’s boots across the room to a large double-door cabinet, his stomach pooling with cold, liquid dread. He can’t make out what he’s holding from this angle.

“Please,” he tries one more time in earnest, his voice barely a whisper.

Handler Smith grabs him by the jaw, forcing Jaime’s eyes to his. “Too late for that, kiddo.”

He brings it into view then: a bottle of liquid dish soap. Jaime screams behind sealed lips, jerking his head from side to side. Fingers bite into the hollows of his cheeks until his lips crack apart, and it’s all the opening Handler Smith needs to shove the tip of the bottle between his teeth and squeeze.

The bitterness is sharper than he could have prepared for, overwhelming his senses on impact. He chokes and sputters, trying to keep the soap from trickling down his throat, but Smith keeps one hand on his jaw, holding him down.

The pour goes on forever, although it’s only just enough to coat the top of his tongue. The second he’s released, Jaime turns his head, trying to expel the already foaming liquid from his mouth, but Handler Smith is faster. Jaime doesn’t even see the gag coming, only feels it when it’s forced between his teeth.

He wants to fight this, too, but all his efforts are focused now on not choking.

“Don’t worry; it’s non-toxic,” Handler Smith says, taking a step back to admire his handiwork. “Maybe you’ll have an easier time swallowing this.”

Jaime barely feels the tears tracking down his temples as he watches his Handler retreat from the room, the door sealing shut behind him.

The hour spent on this table will feel like an eternity. The official mark in his file will be recorded as a punishment for offensive language toward a Handler, but he will know better.

[deadprocess]

Resurgence

Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3

Chapter 4: Foreign

Found by a native and reunited with his fellow officer, Soundwave discovers a shocking revelation about the planet they have crash landed on.

---

Soundwave's body jolted back to life, the sudden activation causing him to lurch forward, struggling to find stability on his servos. His right optic shuttered against the blinding light streaming in, the crack in his visor casting jagged shadows across his features. The faint beeping of error readings echoed in his auditory sensors, each chime a reminder of his damaged condition. The impact from the previous explosion had taken its toll; his back plate bore the scars of collision, now marred by dents and fissures, while his back strut ached painfully, bent at an awkward angle. A wave of frustration washed over him as he processed the extensive damage: multiple inoperable internal codes, including critical functions controlling his T-cog, were rendered useless after sustaining a substantial hit to his helm. Frustration bubbled forth as he punched his undamaged servo into the soft ground, his emotion suppressant protocol glitching.

He had warned them repeatedly about the anomaly's dangers, yet here he was, stranded in the aftermath of a catastrophic explosion. A realization jolted through him: Where was lord Megatron? Where was Shockwave?

Raising his helm, Soundwave surveyed his surroundings. The barren, rocky landscape they had arrived on was gone, replaced by a lush expanse of vibrant green. Organic material stretched as far as his optics could see, but it wasn't what Earth would call "grass"; its composition was foreign and unfamiliar. Mountainous hills rose in the distance, dotted with patches of strange, colorful flora that danced in the gentle breeze, creating a mesmerizing display of flickering colors. It felt as though he had been transported back to Earth, but even though the sheer strength of the blast was immense it would have been impossible. His databases struggled to identify this terrain.

Pressing his servo into the soft, yielding ground, he detected faint frequencies of electricity coursing through the planet beneath him. This planet's core was metallic, yet its surface was entirely organic, a paradox that both intrigued and unnerved him.

Soundwave struggled to his pedes, his systems glitching as he attempted to calculate his coordinates, but everything felt sluggish. The hit to his helm had unexpectedly disrupted more functions than he had initially realized, leaving him disoriented and vulnerable. An urgent warning flashed in front of his left optic, a mocking reminder that his fuel tank was nearing empty. He had to locate Megatron and the others quickly; the threat from the Autobots lingered nearby—or so he had assumed—and he would be defenseless if he fell into stasis lock.

Slowly trudging forward, Soundwave began his descent down the hill, his loyal companion Laserbeak clicking softly against his chassis. Sending her out for reconnaissance would be perilous; if his drone were captured, he would be unable to retrieve her. Without her full operational capacity, she would be useless against any threats. Preserving their energy was paramount for now.

After what felt like cycles of wandering, Soundwave realized he was no closer to finding answers. There was no sign of the Autobots, nor any trace of his fellow Decepticons. Primus, where were they? His internal warning systems blared, indicating his fuel gauge continued to drop with every passing moment. Laserbeak had slipped into stasis a cycle ago, and it was becoming increasingly clear that Soundwave would soon follow. Dropping to his knees, he felt his optics flickering, a recharge beckoning him with an alluring promise of rest.

"Just a moment of reprieve," he thought, his heavy frame collapsing onto the soft organic flora. As he surrendered to exhaustion, he barely registered the soft sound of small pedes approaching him.

"He... l... hell... oo... a... ok... ar... e... you... o...?" The fragmented voice punctuated the stillness, barely breaking through the haze of his fading consciousness.

System shutdown... alert. System shutdown. Protective protocol activated. Entering stasis lock.

Warmth was the first sensation to penetrate Soundwave's awareness. It enveloped him in a comforting embrace, reminiscent of being cradled by his carrier. Her melodic voice lulled him into a gentle recharge, like a soothing melody that had long since faded into memory. Wasn't it so long ago?

Suddenly, he lurched forward violently, his tentacles whipping out in a reflexive panic. Crashing sounds filled the air as his appendages collided with nearby objects, and his pedes caught on the frame of the berth, sending him crashing to the floor in a flurry of disorientation. A figure rushed through the doorway, concern etched across her features.

"Oh Primus! Are you okay?! I'm so sorry; I shouldn't have left you alone! Stasis lock is always jarring," the turquoise-framed femme exclaimed, her words tumbling over one another as she hurried to help him regain his balance. She nearly stumbled as she grasped at his form, trying to pull him up.

"Get... off!" Soundwave snarled, swiping his arm at her as she clumsily grasped him in sensitive areas, servos pressed into the warped metal of his backplate. His long arm nearly sent the smaller bot flying, but her surprisingly strong grip held firm.

"Whoa, wait! I know this is scary; please calm down!"

"Get off—"

"CEASE. NOW."

A booming voice cut through the chaos, causing Soundwave to halt his movements mid-swipe.

Shockwave entered the room, towering over the two bots who were tangled on the floor with an air of authority. "I see that you are awake, Sounwave. This pleases me but please, allow your system to recover before you perform any further erratic motions. We are not in danger," he hesitated, his antennae twitching as he carefully selected his words. "We are... guests in this lovely establishment."

Soundwave struggled to comprehend Shockwave's words. Guests? Where in the frag were they?! There was nowhere in the solar system that openly welcomed decepticons like them into their residence.

The femme's grip loosened as he relaxed, persistently guiding him to his pedes. Soundwave stared incredulously at his fellow Decepticon, the confusion building like a storm within him.

"My designation is Rust Dust. I found you while I was out driving. I was trying to figure out how to bring you back here to help you since you were in such rough shape, but then your buddy appeared. Thank Primus too! You are a lot heavier than I anticipated. No offense to you; your frame is super sleek! Unless... you don't want to be sleek? Oh, I shouldn't assume; that was rude." The femme's words tumbled out at a speed that could rival Starscream's indecent blubbering, and Soundwave found himself forced to listen to her incessant chatter.

Shockwave's body language suggested he was struggling to contain his own irritation, his EM field retracting closely to his body to avoid alerting Rust Dust to his suspicion. Not that she would likely notice; her awareness seemed limited at best.

"Rust Dust, I would like a moment with my companion, if you wouldn't mind. He has been through a lot, and I would like to run a systems analysis to ensure that he is well enough to be moving." Shockwave interjected, saving Soundwave from a splitting processor.

"Oh yeah, absolutely! I'll be right out in the main room. I'll fetch some energon for whenever you both are ready." Soundwave's tank lurched at the mention of energon, his glossa instinctively shooting out to lick his dry lips. His fuel systems were starved, and the thought of energon was intoxicating.

"Could he possibly receive some now? You could leave it by the door."

"Absolutely!"

With Rust Dust cheerfully exiting, Soundwave directed his full attention to the mech before him, his field flared with incredulity. With his visor cracked and multiple internal processing systems damaged, Soundwave was forced to address the situation.

"Inquiry: Who was that and where are we?" It was two simple questions. Ones in which he hoped his compatriot could answer.

"That was Rust Dust. I do not know of her affiliation, but I am well aware of her lineage. Her entire lineage," Shockwave replied, a faint air of exasperation in his tone. Soundwave detected that he had likely been in stasis for some time and his fellow officer had endured the prattling femme in his absence, "we currently reside on a planet designated as Cyberonica."

"Information: insufficient. Femme has allowed us into her home. Decepticons: unwelcomed in most quadrants of the galaxy," Soundwave took a step forward, gaze fixing on the window that overlooked the unfamiliar organic scenery outside, "Shockwave: where are we?"

A servo placed itself upon his shoulder pad, guiding him into a sitting position upon the small berth he had woken up from.

"Cyberonica. A planet that resides outside our dimension. We are welcome because Decepticons do not exist here. Our war does not exist here."

Xx Authors note xX

Thank you for reading! Chapter 5 is under works. Check back or another update soon!

[momojedi]

Across the Stars Theta-Seven | pt. 8 an ocxoc fanfic - star wars/clone wars/bad batch universe

A/N: I love writing the Hunter/Malakai dynamic sm... I wrote this at like ... 2am last night, be fair w me pls

Summary: The Batch goes undercover on an Imperial Space Station, not knowing that an enemy is closing in

CW: imperial military, a LOT of technical talk, hunter loses his mind with malakai, mocking echo's droid acting skills, references to crosshair's betrayal and the season 1 finale

WC: 2,9k

spotify playlist | masterpost

The Marauder slipped from hyperspace, stars stretching into specks around the edge of the Mustafar system. The homonymous planet loomed in the void ahead, its surface a cauldron of flame and ash. And beyond it, hidden beneath the obsidian sea of Nur, lay the true destination. Malakai stood silent behind the cockpit, helmet catching the glow of system warnings. He said nothing as Tech adjusted the controls, pulling the ship into standard civilian approach vector.

"Not bad," Tech muttered. "No satellites pinged us yet." "Don’t jinx it," Echo replied. Wrecker leaned forward, squinting at the flashing proximity alert. "Uh. Too late."

The console chimed.

"Unidentified vessel. You are entering restricted Imperial space. Redirect to Station Theta-Seven for clearance verification. Failure to comply will result in interdiction."

Hunter glanced over his shoulder toward the rest of the group as the Marauder drifted closer to the Imperial station. The looming shape of the structure grew larger in the viewport. "We don’t need a fight this close to Nur," he said calmly. "We land, act normal. No sudden moves." "You really think we can bluff our way through an Imperial checkpoint?" Echo asked, crossing his arms.

Malakai finally looked up from the console, his voice low but firm. "We don’t bluff. We blend." His helmet turned slightly toward them. "Get changed. Civilian gear. Anything that doesn’t scream ‘clone squad.’" Wrecker groaned. "Aw, but I just fixed my armour!" "You can wear your armour to your own funeral," Tech muttered, already heading toward the storage lockers. "I suggest something with fewer explosives on the belt."

Then Malakai’s visor turned toward Echo. "And you…" Echo sighed before the words even left Malakai’s mouth. "Civil gear won't suffice for you, you still pass cleanly as a clone... Droid it is." Echo stared flatly. “Why is it always me?”

Wrecker's chuckle reverberated loudly through the ship. "’Cause you make a great droid, Echo!" "I don’t sound like a droid. I don’t walk like a droid. And I’m not putting on that ridiculous voice again." Hunter smirked as he passed Echo a beat-up servo mask. "We’ll all owe you a ration bar." "You owe me a week of ration bars," Echo grumbled, reluctantly snatching the mask. "And I’m still not doing the voice."

Wrecker leaned in with a too-innocent grin. "Just beep twice if you’re unhappy." Echo’s groan was loud enough to rattle the bulkhead. Malakai turned back toward the viewport. "Be convincing. We won’t get a second chance." The Marauder angled gently toward the docking bay as the Imperial station came alive with blinking clearance lights.

The station's interior was a cold gleam of white, polished durasteel and humming lights. A trio of stormtroopers waited at the base of the ramp as the Marauder's hydraulics hissed and released. A stiff officer clad in the usual grey uniform flanked them, datapad in hand, brows pinched with suspicion as the group descended.

With a clear of his throat, Hunter stepped forward and greeted the man. "Sir." The officer barely acknowledged his words, judgementally looking him up and down. "State your business." Subconsciously, Hunter let out a breath he didn't know he was holding. The Imperial hadn't recognised them as clones. Good. "Transporting mechanical salvage. Route diverted after collision with debris in the Raxus corridor. We’re due in the Atravis sector."

The officer frowned. "No listed cargo manifest. No verified ID signature. You’re lucky we didn’t open fire."

"We’re lucky it’s you checking us and not a trigger-happy cruiser captain," Tech replied with a with his usual snark. With a frustrated huff, Omega stepped on his foot.

The officer's eyes lingered on each of them. They held still. Wrecker, who had been busy grumbling over the scratchy material of his poncho, offered a lazy nod. Omega, now masked by a large hat she'd stolen from one of her brothers, kept her head down. Malakai stood at the rear, unreadable behind the battered dome of his helmet.

The officer’s gaze paused there, discomfort flickering across his face. "And him?" "A guide," Hunter said evenly. "Local knowledge." "I don’t like masks," the officer muttered. "He’s not fond of small talk," Wrecker said flatly, stepping in just enough to break the moment.

The tension bled out slowly. The officer finally handed back a coded chip. "You’re cleared for minor docking and fuel check. Stay in the civilian ring. Your ship’s been flagged for limited movement."

"Understood," Hunter said. "We won’t overstay our welcome."

The Sentinel-Class craft emerged from hyperspace with a deep rumble, settling just outside the Mustafar system's perimeter. Within its shadowed command bridge, the Second Brother stood still as stone before the main viewport, arms folded behind his back, cloak pooling at his boots. Until the soft clink of another pair of boots behind him marked another arrival.

Crosshair stopped at his side, arms folded across his chest. His expression was unreadable under his helmet, but his tone held its usual mix of dry disinterest and pointed curiosity. "You ever wonder why you work with us?" he asked. The Second Brother didn’t look at him. "Most Inquisitors," Crosshair went on, "keep to themselves. Ghost missions. Secret Jedi hunts. Not exactly team players." He glanced sideways. "You could've just dropped us after that Jedi mission. So why us? Why me?"

A long moment passed, filled only by the hum of the ship’s systems. "I don’t need to wonder," the Second Brother said at last, voice low and metallic through the vocoder. "You follow orders. You don’t ask questions - unless they serve a purpose." Crosshair scoffed quietly. "That a compliment?" "A fact."

He waited. But the Inquisitor didn’t elaborate. He rarely did. Crosshair exhaled through his nose, then looked back toward the viewport. "You think I’m loyal." "I know you’re effective," the Second Brother replied. "That’s more valuable than loyalty." There was something unsettling about the way he said it, calm, cold, but not without weight. Crosshair eyed him, brow creasing just slightly.

"You ever get tired of pretending you’re not one of us?" That made the Inquisitor turn, just a fraction. His voice came quieter this time. "I was never one of you."

Silence settled again between them, heavier this time. Crosshair didn’t argue, but something behind his gaze sharpened. "Still fight like a soldier," he muttered. “Still act like someone who lost something.” The Second Brother said nothing. He simply looked back out into outerspace. Crosshair’s voice lowered. “So… what’d they take from you?”

That was when the chime pulsed in the Inquisitor’s helmet. A signal. Low priority. Routine docking report from Theta-Seven. But as the data streamed across his HUD, something shifted.

UNKNOWN TRANSPORT VESSEL DOCKED – THETA-SEVEN VISUAL: INCONCLUSIVE CREW LIST: NON-MATCHED MANIFEST: CLASSIFIED/INCOMPLETE

The moment stretched. And there it was. The ripple in the Force. A pressure, like a whisper just behind his thoughts. Not loud. But close.

His hands flexed at his sides. "Set course for Theta-Seven," he said flatly. Crosshair blinked. "What is it?" The Second Brother’s gaze was fixed ahead, but his voice had dropped lower.

"Something I’ve felt before."

The sterile lights of the Imperial station buzzed faintly overhead as the crew of the stolen shuttle disembarked onto the durasteel deck of Theta-Seven’s hangar. Stormtroopers moved in practiced lines, technicians monitored nearby consoles, and the oppressive weight of routine Imperial procedure filled the air. Hunter scanned the hangar as he freshly tied his bandana with casual ease, but his jaw was set tight. Tech had accompanied the officer under the guise of verifying the cargo manifest, playing along to keep up the illusion. That had been twenty minutes ago, and despite knowing that his brother could handle it, Hunter felt a hint of anxiety spreading in his stomach.

Wrecker sat on one of the Marauder's lowers steps, fidgeting with one of Gonky's cables while Omega sat on the durasteel ground, observing the stormtroopers with a frown. Echo trailed behind, arms stiff, the dull sheen of his plated black disguise catching the artificial light. "Remind me why I’m the droid again?" he scoffed quietly. Wrecker smirked. "’Cause you’re the only one who can pull off that stiff walk." "I walk perfectly fine," Echo shot back, glancing sideways. "And you still owe me from the last time I had to beep like an astromech." Omega grinned as she turned to look at him from her position. "You were a very convincing droid." Echo rolled his eyes. "That’s what makes it worse."

"Keep it down," Hunter said, eyes still scanning. "We don’t need to draw attention." He then turned around to check on his squad when he noticed someone missing. Malakai had been beside him only a moment ago - and now he was gone. Hunter turned on his heel, glancing in every direction, frustration bubbling in his voice. "Where the hell did he go?"

"He said something about needing a terminal," Echo offered, frowning. "Didn’t say more." Hunter let out a low exhale. "Of course he didn’t." He looked around the hangar again - too many uniforms, too many eyes. They couldn’t risk splitting up carelessly, but letting Malakai run solo was a gamble they couldn’t afford either. He looked at the others. "Echo, Wrecker - take Omega and find him. Quietly. No sudden moves. If he’s pulling something, I want to know before he drags us all down with him."

Wrecker gave a mock salute. "Quiet’s my specialty," he said — then immediately knocked over a nearby hydrospanner with his boot. It clanged against the deck, echoing loud and clear. Echo stared at him. "You sure about that?" Wrecker winced. “Okay, second specialty.”

Turning back to Hunter, Omega smiled softly. "We’ll find him." As the three slipped away into the corridors, blending into the flow of station personnel as best they could, Hunter remained behind near the shuttle - a solitary sentinel, arms crossed and gaze hard, doing his best impression of a weary cargo handler waiting on clearance. He muttered under his breath, "One of these days, he’s going to get us all killed…"

The corridors beyond the hangar were clean, sterile, and uniform — the kind of design that made it easy to get lost and even easier to hide. Echo led the way, pulling up a schematic he’d quietly accessed from a nearby wall terminal.

"Standard station layout," he murmured. "He’s heading toward the data cores, if he’s smart." "Malakai’s always smart," Omega said, walking fast to keep up. "Just not great at telling people what he’s doing." Wrecker snorted. "He’s lucky I like him. Otherwise I’d be dragging him back by the collar."

Echo rounded a corner and held up his scomp, pausing them. A pair of officers crossed ahead, speaking in hushed tones, oblivious to the disguised group in the shadows. Once they passed, he pressed forward. They caught sight of Malakai moments later - half-shrouded by the glow of a terminal tucked behind a side access point. His gloved fingers moved deftly across the console, pulling data with silent efficiency. Echo narrowed his eyes. "He’s slicing into restricted archives." Next to him, Wrecker muttered, "Hope he’s pulling good stuff. I nearly tripped on a mouse droid getting here." Omega stepped forward. "Malakai!"

Although he turned his head to the group, Malakai didn't appear very surprised when Omega rushed to him excitedly. "You shouldn’t be here yet."

Hunter’s voice crackled softly over Echo’s comm.

"Status?"

"We’ve found him," Echo said in a hushed voice. "He’s in a restricted access terminal, pulling something. Looks calm. Suspiciously calm."

"Keep eyes on him. And get him out of there if it starts to smell like a trap."

Malakai turned back to the console, ignoring Hunter's frustration and instead focusing back on the screen. "This station is sitting on a surveillance log that doesn’t add up. Incoming and outgoing traffic from Nur. Black-class files. I’m trying to see who’s been watching it - or if someone’s been protecting it."

Echo stepped forward, a parental strictness slipping through his voice. "You could’ve told us that." "I didn’t want to waste time explaining it." "You realise Hunter’s fuming back in the hangar, right?" Wrecker said. Malakai didn’t look up from the console. "Let him fume. We may not get another chance to scan this far into Mustafar’s shadow without setting off alarms."

Echo’s hand twitched near his blaster pistol and he turned his head to shoot a careful glance down the corridor. "We’re pushing our luck already." Malakai pulled a datachip from the port, sliding it into a secure pocket on his belt. "Then let’s not waste it. I’ve got what we need. Movement patterns. Patrol timings. Even a record of Imperial ships rerouted from Nur recently. Something’s changed - and someone doesn’t want anyone knowing about it." At that, Wrecker grunted. "Great. Secrets. My favorite."

A low whine echoed from down the corridor, distant, but rising. Echo tensed. "Patrol droid. We need to move." Malakai nodded once. "Back to the hangar. Casually."

They slipped into the flow of personnel, moving with just enough confidence to avoid suspicion, just more anonymous shapes in a sea of imperial routine.

Back in the hangar, Hunter spotted them approaching and stepped off the side of the shuttle, hands crossed over his chest. "You get what you needed?" he asked coolly, glaring at Malakai like a father at an impudent child. Malakai gave the faintest nod. "Enough to make Nur worth the risk."

Finally, Tech also strode back into the hangar, adjusting his goggles with clinical precision. "Well," he announced flatly, "either they bought the manifest, or they’re remarkably patient liars. I’m leaning toward the former." Hunter gave him a look. “You’re sure?” "As sure as one can be when fabricating an entire shipping log on the spot," Tech replied matter-of-factly. "I even threw in a few crates of ‘thermal couplings’ for authenticity." Wrecker, who was now sitting on the ground with Omega and sharing a ration bar, snorted as he looked up. "What’s a thermal coupling?" "Something we absolutely do not have," Tech stated, brushing past him, to which Echo raised an eyebrow as he followed him. "Any suspicion?" "None… yet. But we shouldn’t linger."

As the rest of the squad boarded the Marauder, Hunter gave Malakai a long, measured look. "Next time, don’t vanish." The Mandalorian looked away. "Next time, trust me."

Standing in the Marauder's entry hatch, Wrecker watched the disagreement play out, “You two need to hug it out or punch each other.” Hunter and Malakai both ignored him, instead Malakai just huffed and pushed past the sergeant to board the shuttle. Hunter sighed as he watched him. But just as Malakai set his foot on the Marauder’s ramp, a mechanical hiss sliced through the hangar air. Another shuttle was descending. Imperial.

Hunter stiffened, eyes narrowing as he stepped forward for a better look. The others noticed too. Even Wrecker stopped mid-bite of his ration bar. The shuttle landed with surgical precision. The ramp lowered. Out came two figures.

The first was unmistakable - The Second Brother. Broad, armoured in stark black, a crimson-lined cloak trailing behind him. His helmet glinted under the white lighting of the hangar, head angled with predator-like calculation. But it was the second man that stole Hunter’s breath. "Crosshair…" Hunter murmured, almost too soft to be heard.

He didn't move, not yet. His body coiled on instinct, frozen between old memory and new threat. Wrecker"s brow furrowed as he followed Hunter’s gaze. “No… way. That’s-” "Yeah," Echo cut in sharply, eyes narrowing. "It’s him." Omega shrank back slightly behind them, unsure if she was seeing a ghost or something worse.

The Second Brother descended the ramp with slow, purposeful steps, but something shifted in his gait, almost imperceptible. His attention had locked on the man standing at the Marauder's ramp: Malakai. It was familiar. Too familiar.

He slowed, boots echoing against the durasteel floor. The sensation rippled inside him like a broken frequency, loud but just out of reach. Crosshair, noticing the pause, stepped slightly ahead, scanning the hangar, expression unreadable beneath his helmet.

Inside the Marauder, Malakai's posture had gone rigid. His gaze was pinned to the Inquisitor. He didn’t know who he was. But he felt something in his gut. He couldn’t explain it. Couldn’t trust it.

"Tech - now," he snapped. Tech was already in the cockpit, hands flying across the controls. "Engines spooling up. We’ll be gone in twenty seconds." As the Marauder began to rise, Hunter lingered for half a second longer, watching Crosshair. His brother didn’t flinch. Didn’t react. Just… looked.

No weapon raised. No orders shouted.

The Second Brother took another step forward. He whispered, as if speaking to no one at all: "...Familiar." Then, louder. Sharper - to Crosshair: "That shuttle. We’ve seen it before. Haven’t we?" Crosshair tilted his head, fingers twitching near his rifle.

The ramp sealed with a hiss. Inside, Malakai exhaled slowly, jaw locked tight beneath his helmet. He looked toward Hunter, confused by the raw tension now radiating through the team. "You knew the clone?" Hunter nodded once, still staring ahead as if the Second Brother might burst through the hull. "We all did." Malakai blinked behind the visor. "Crosshair," Tech added, voice low. "Before he traded us for a different kind of loyalty. We settled the disagreement a couple of months back during the downfall of Kamino, but it appears he has found a new path in the Empire."

Malakai's lips parted slightly in surprise - but before he could say anything, the Marauder shot out of the hangar bay and into open space.

Back on the hangar deck, the Second Brother watched the departure, still and silent. He turned his head slowly toward Crosshair. "Track them. Something’s off. I want to know exactly who was on that ship." Crosshair gave a single nod.

[thejeepnames]

What Are The Latest Jeep Technologies?

In the rugged world of off-roading, Jeep has always been the name to trust. From its military origins as a go-anywhere, do-anything vehicle to becoming a cultural icon, the Jeep brand has perpetually pushed the boundaries of what's possible on and off the trail. But as each year strides into the next, one thing is clear – the heart of a Jeep may never change, but its technological veins are constantly evolving. This comprehensive exploration dives deep into the cutting-edge features that define the modern Jeep, their impact off the beaten path, and a glimpse of what trekkers can anticipate on the horizon.

Unearthing the Evolution of Jeep Technologies

A Legacy Forged by Pioneers

Jeep has a DNA that’s encoded for adventure. It’s the vehicle that took part in World War II, carried explorers across the Amazon, and scaled the icy glaciers of the Antarctic. At its core, Jeep embodies the indomitable spirit of those who aren't afraid to venture into the unknown.

From Cogs to Chips

The integration of technology into Jeep's lineup has been a slow burn, but a momentous one. What started with the introduction of 4x4 systems and all-terrain tires has now burst into a kaleidoscope of digital assistance. Over the years, we've witnessed the marriage of classic Jeeper know-how with modern computing prowess, fundamentally reshaping how we approach off-roading. This section covers the significant technological milestones that have brought us to the modern day.

Our social:

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https://www.tiktok.com/@thejeepname

The Latest Jeep Innovations

Mastering the Terrain

The current breed of Jeep is endowed with an arsenal of systems dedicated to mastering the diverse environments an off-roader may encounter. Whether it's rock, sand, mud, or snow – Jeep's Terrain Management Systems (TMS) ensure that you have the upper hand, no matter what Mother Nature throws your way. TMS provides instantaneous adjustments to your vehicle's parameters, allowing it to optimize performance based on the present conditions.

Dashboards of Dominance

Merging the thrill of the off-road experience with the precision of an airplane cockpit, Jeep Performance Pages are much more than just a high-tech gimmick. These digital dashboards give you an in-depth look at what's happening under the hood, allowing you to monitor everything from wheel articulation to live powertrain data, and much more. It's a control center that empowers you to make informed decisions on the fly.

Safety Beyond the Highway

The modern Jeep is more than just muscle; it’s a watchful ally on the trail. The latest safety features such as forward-collision warning, adaptive cruise control, and blind-spot monitoring systems work in tandem to keep you and your trail mates safe. They're not just pavement technologies – these features have been road-tested for reliability in even the most extreme trail environments.

Connectivity at Every Turn

In an era where being connected is almost as vital as the air we breathe, Jeep's Uconnect technology is nothing short of essential. With functionalities that keep you in contact, entertained, and on track, Uconnect intertwines your vehicle's systems with your digital life seamlessly. From intuitive navigation aids to hands-free communication, this tech suite is the bridge between solitude and civilization.

Enhancing the Off-Road Experience

Battling the Rocks

The innovations in Jeep's 4x4 systems do more than just help you conquer the next hill; they transform the very fabric of your off-road experience. The latest systems are more intuitive and more capable, tailoring their performance to the driver's intent with uncanny precision. They make mincemeat out of even the most intimidating of rocks and crevices, ensuring the adventure never stagnates.

Performance that Adapts

What good is power if you can't utilize it effectively? That's the philosophy behind Jeep's technologies - they're not there to replace skill, but to enhance it. Hill Descent Control, Axle Lockers, and even an integrated TrailCam – these features adapt to the situation, assuring that you get the most out of every drop of power your engine churns out.

Real-world Resilience

Intellect on its own is meaningless without proving its mettle in the real world. That’s why we’ve collected stories of how these cutting-edge technologies have affected lives firsthand. From threadbare trails to rain-soaked forests, the inclusion of these features has been a game-changer for off-road enthusiasts everywhere.

Charting the Future of Jeep Technology

The Road Ahead

The road to the future is paved with the grit of innovation. Jeep has expressed keen interest in staying abreast of the sustainable and electric vehicle trends. Concepts and prototypes like the off-roading BEV and plug-in hybrids are but whispers on the wind, but they're harbingers of what may be the future of all Jeep adventures.

Blinking Green

While performance remains a hallmark of the brand, the future may also be about incorporating more eco-friendly technologies. Electric powertrains, when paired with off-road-specific driving systems, could redefine what we think of as sustainable adventure. Forward to an era where the only thing you leave behind are tire tracks.

Closing the Trail

Jeep's march into the modern era is not only about keeping up with the times. It's about defining the standards of adventure in an increasingly complex world. The blend of tradition and technology is the adhesive that binds the Jeep community, ensuring that no matter how advanced the rigs get, the spirit of adventure remains the same. Welcome to the crossroads of heritage and cutting-edge—the future is off-road.

[bmw-deutsche-motoren]

Embark on a Revolution: BMW iX - Pioneering the Future of Automotive Innovation

Introduction:

In the ever-evolving world of automotive excellence, BMW stands as a beacon of innovation and performance. In the dynamic city of Bangalore, Deutsche Motoren proudly unveils the future of driving – the BMW iX. Immerse yourself in a world where cutting-edge technology meets sustainable luxury, and performance is redefined. Our showroom invites you to experience the groundbreaking brilliance embodied by the BMW iX. Click here for the BMW iX test drive and embrace the future of driving.

Innovative Design:

The BMW iX is not just an electric SUV; it's a groundbreaking expression of innovative design. Meticulously crafted with precision and designed to captivate, this model seamlessly blends futuristic aesthetics with classic BMW sophistication. The sleek lines and aerodynamic contours not only redefine the electric SUV but also set new standards for sustainable luxury. Click here for the BMW iX on-road price in Bangalore and be a part of the electric revolution.

Advanced Electric Powertrain:

Beneath the sleek exterior, the BMW iX boasts an advanced electric powertrain that delivers a symphony of power and efficiency. Whether it's emission-free city driving or embarking on a cross-country journey, each drive is a manifestation of BMW's commitment to sustainable mobility. Embrace the joy of commanding a true electric masterpiece. Click here for the BMW iX price in India and be at the forefront of the electric revolution.

Cutting-Edge Safety Features:

At BMW Deutsche Motoren, your safety is our top priority. The BMW iX comes equipped with a comprehensive suite of cutting-edge safety features that set new standards for automotive safety. Activate the Driving Assistant and experience features like Forward Collision Warning, ensuring a secure journey on every electric adventure.

and drive with confidence into the future.

Advanced Technology:

Experience the seamless integration of cutting-edge technology and sustainable luxury with the BMW iX. Parking is a breeze with the Surround View Camera, offering a 360-degree view for effortless maneuvering in confined spaces. Stay connected with the latest advancements through the intuitive infotainment system. Embrace the future of driving – visit our Bangalore showroom today and test drive the BMW iX.

Click here for the BMW iX test drive and be a part of the electric revolution.

[spocks-big-naturals]

If corporations are legally people, we should legally be allowed to give them the death penalty. worth noting: the quote about one second autopilot shutoff is from 2022

here's the actual 2022 report

"The agency’s analysis of these sixteen subject first responder and road maintenance vehicle crashes indicated that Forward Collision Warnings (FCW) activated in the majority of incidents immediately prior to impact and that subsequent Automatic Emergency Braking (AEB) intervened in approximately half of the collisions. On average in these crashes, Autopilot aborted vehicle control less than one second prior to the first impact. "All subject crashes occurred on controlled-access highways. Where incident video was available, the approach to the first responder scene would have been visible to the driver an average of 8 seconds leading up to impact. Additional forensic data available for eleven of the collisions indicated that no drivers took evasive action between 2-5 seconds prior to impact, and the vehicle reported all had their hands on the steering wheel leading up to the impact. However, most drivers appeared to comply with the subject vehicle driver engagement system as evidenced by the hands-on wheel detection and nine of eleven vehicles exhibiting no driver engagement visual or chime alerts until the last minute preceding the collision (four of these exhibited no visual or chime alerts at all during the final Autopilot use cycle)."

The fact that Tesla autopilots abort self driving 1 second before a crash so the company can state “self driving wasn’t active during the collision” should be grounds to dismantle the entire company.

Like, seriously, if you’re making 4000 pound death machines, and you program this shit to work on a technicality? Your company should be dismantled. Gone. No recourse. Just terrible shit dude

[blueberrybirdsworld]

Collision 10/20

Summary:

Lando always had a type : blonde, models, not ready to settle down. Yet once he met her, all his world is changed and he slowly start to realises maybe he was wrong all this time.

It's a prequel story of The Cat Distribution System, on how Lando Norris fall in love with Ariana. Could be read seperatly.

Pairing : lando norris x original female character

Genre : SMAU, Fluff, slow burn, enventual smut and angst

Warning : none

Serie Masterlist

CHAPTER 10 : SMAU

Brazil was beautiful. 

The sky burned in soft blue over white sand and palm trees. The house his friends had rented was like something out of a commercial — open-air, sleek pool, view over the ocean, warm breeze even at night. Every room was already taken, suitcases unpacked, sunglasses thrown carelessly on tables. 

Lando arrived late in the afternoon, exhausted from the flight, shoulders aching, eyes bloodshot from lack of sleep. 

Not just from travel. 

From thinking. 

He stepped into the villa, greeted instantly by the sounds of voices, music, and the scent of grilled food. Someone was already mixing drinks in the kitchen. Flip-flops scuffed the tile floors. And as soon as he walked in— 

“Landooo!” Max shouted, arms thrown open. “Finally. Took you long enough.” 

Pietra appeared next, grinning. “We were about to leave you behind. Again.” 

Charles and Alexandra lifted their drinks in a lazy toast from the lounge chairs by the pool. Carlos was sprawled out near the deck with Rebecca, both mid-laughter over something Lando couldn’t hear. Pierre waved from the kitchen, Kika already dancing barefoot with a speaker tucked under her arm. 

It was like walking into a summer postcard. 

Normally, he would’ve loved it. 

He would’ve dropped his bag, grabbed a beer, thrown on music, jumped in the pool fully clothed just to make everyone laugh. But today— 

He felt like he was walking through someone else’s story. 

And he didn’t belong in it. 

He gave a half-smile, did his best to fake the energy, let everyone pull him into a group hug that smelled of sunscreen and sun-warmed cotton. 

But everyone noticed, he wasn’t fine. 

An hour later, after greetings were exchanged and drinks handed out, Lando found himself sitting on a low wall near the edge of the deck, staring out at the ocean. 

Pietra approached without a sound, then sat beside him. 

“You okay?” she asked gently. 

He hesitated. 

She nudged him. “Is it because of the ballerina?” 

He looked over at her, eyes tired. “Ari.” 

Pietra blinked. “You call her that now?” 

“She said I could.” 

Pietra studied him for a long moment. “You miss her.” 

He didn’t answer. 

Behind them, the others were still laughing, shouting about something dumb Pierre had done on the flight. They were loud. Happy. Together.  

Lando looked down at his hands. 

“I didn’t think it would feel like this,” he said quietly. 

Max appeared next, holding two beers. He handed one to Lando, took one look at his friend, and frowned. “You look like someone just crashed your car.” 

“It’s not,” Pietra said. “It’s the ballerina.” 

Carlos blinked. “Wait. What ballerina?” 

Rebecca and Alexandra, overhearing from the patio, perked up. “There was a ballerina?” 

Lando groaned. “Can we not do this?” 

Pietra grinned. “Oh no, you don’t get to sulk and keep secrets. Spill.” 

Lando exhaled. Looked out at the water. 

And started talking. He told them everything. 

By the time he was done, the sun had dipped lower, and no one was smiling anymore. 

“She sounds… special” Alexandra began. 

“She was,” Lando said quietly. “Is.” 

Max leaned forward. “So why the hell did you come?” 

“I had to,” Lando said. “It was booked. Everyone expected me. It’s for 2 weeks. It’s nothing.” 

Pietra gave him a look. “It doesn’t sound like nothing.” 

He looked down. 

“I thought maybe it’d be easier,” he admitted. “To leave now. Before it got deeper. Before the goodbye got worse.” 

Rebecca crossed her arms. “You already sound like someone who didn’t want to say goodbye.” 

“I didn’t.” 

“So why not say something?” Max asked. “You could’ve asked her. To be with you. To wait. To try.” 

Lando’s voice was hollow. “Because what if she said no?” 

That silenced them all. 

He looked up at them, eyes raw. 

“I didn’t know what we were. We didn’t label anything. I didn’t ask her to be my girlfriend. And I wanted to. God, I almost did. But I kept thinking—what if this was just a moment? Just a beautiful accident?” 

He rubbed his hands together. 

“She’s going back to Paris. I go back to Monaco. Her life is studios and stages. Mine is planes and paddocks. We had a few weeks. Maybe that’s all it was ever supposed to be.” 

The group was quiet again. 

Then Pietra said softly, “And maybe you’re just scared it could’ve been more.” 

That hit like a punch. He didn’t respond. 

Just reached for the beer he hadn’t touched and finally took a sip, eyes fixed on the horizon. 

The night went on. The others drifted back into their noise, their dance, their joy. 

But Lando stayed on the wall, staring into the dark waves. 

The sound of her voice still echoed in his mind. 

He could still feel her hands on him, still remember the way she’d said, You’re more than that. 

But tonight, he wasn’t sure what he was anymore. 

All he knew was that the seat beside him was empty. 

And that her absence made everything else feel just a little too loud.

@landonorris 📍 Rio de Janeiro, Brazil

@maxfewtrell: bro we came to party and you’re out here filming an indie movie 😭

@carlossainz55: someone give him an acoustic guitar immediately

@kikacgomes: ok but aesthetic sad is still a serve

@sadgirlformula: Lando out here starting his “Sad Boy Summer” tour in Brazil 😭

@monetmclaren: since when does lando norris do sad sunsets??? what did we miss 😭

@f1daydreamz: HE LOOKS SO SAD WTF I’M GONNA CRY

@sunkissedmclaren: ok but like… who hurt him 🧍‍♀️

@paddockfairytale: i miss chaotic gremlin lando, who is THIS sad poet man omg

@lanternlovers: not to be dramatic but this is giving “i left my whole heart behind”

@drivertales: his friends are literally right there but my man is fighting for his life emotionally 😭

@paintedcircuits: first he’s at museums, now he’s posting sad sunsets… WHO IS SHE

@pietra Somewhere sunny and a little bit perfect ✨

@maxfewtrell: My whole world in one post 🥹🖤

@landonorris: you guys are disgustingly cute. send help.

@alexandra_stmleux: you’re glowing 🥹✨

@carlossainz55: best looking couple here and i’m not even mad about it

@kikacgomes: the way you both just radiate summer love 🏝️🫶🏼

@rebecca_dns golden hour? more like golden couple 😍

@beachbumf1: not pietra and max winning at life rn 🏖️✨

@softforpietra: she’s so pretty it’s actually insane omg

@saltyhairdreams: THEY'RE GLOWING ??? i want what they have pls 😭

@maxsupremacy: max you lucky man fr 😭🖤

@lantern.boy: not to be rude but lando is 100% third wheeling this trip 😭😭😭

@sunsetgrid: lando tagging along to couple trips >>> peak youngest sibling energy 🫶🏼

@f1shenanigans: somebody go hug lando pls he’s looking like the human version of 🥲

@f1gossipdaily

#LandoNorris seen soaking up the sun in Brazil with his usual crew… except this time, he’s the only single one.

Max Fewtrell & Pietra Pilão, Charles Leclerc & Alexandra Saint Mleux, Pierre Gasly & Kika Gomes, Carlos Sainz & Rebecca Donaldson are all loved-up while Lando seems… well, third-wheeling a little 👀

Sources say he’s been keeping it lowkey, but fans are buzzing: if the ballerina girl rumors were true, why isn't she here? 🤔 Is Lando back to solo vacations and his partyboy era? 🍾

No clear signs of a new girl on this trip — but the speculation is louder than ever.

@speedytea: okay but if that ballerina thing was real she would be here ?? feels fake now

@ferrarifever: single handly third-wheeling four couples at once... iconic behavior

@wornoutsofts: lando back in his playboy era after ONE soft girl, it didn't fix him i fear 😩

@turn1drama: the way i checked that girl’s insta and she’s like... soft aesthetic??? book girl??? YEAH NO WAY he’s into that lmao

@drsactivated: y’all really thought he was gonna change bc of one date 💀💀💀 pls

@silverstonegossip: it’s giving “i'm so single it hurts” energy 😭😭

@curblover44: i love lando but dude’s soul LEFT his body on that trip

@oversteerangel: someone said he’s on a couples retreat against his will and i haven’t stopped laughing since 😭

@f1mess: girl was a phase. he needs someone with a little spice not a ballet dancer posting flowers and poetry 💀

@wornouttires: not to be mean but i never bought the lando x ballerina thing... she’s sweet but boring af for him

@fanbehaviorf1: this trip alone proves it. he’s not changing for anybody lmao 😭😭

@softlandon: ok but?? did y’all even LOOK at his latest post?? bro looks like he’s missing someone fr 😭

@racinghearts4u: his whole vibe is “sad and lost at sunset” like HELLO he’s in his feelings

@sunlightdreamers: he’s literally surrounded by friends and still looks miserable... it’s not giving playboy energy it’s giving i miss her energy 😭🫶

@arianariverria

Only two weeks left in the Royal Opera House of London, I pass an increadible year here, I make friends for life and learn so more about me, as a person, as a dancer. Only two shows left nex week and preparations are intense but worse it. Then I will be back at home in Paris though a part of me will always be here.🌸🩰

@petalsandpirouettes you are literal poetry in motion 😭🕊️ this year was so magical to watch from afar

@stageleftdarling watching your growth this season has been breathtaking. you deserve the world and more

@ballerinabloom can’t believe it’s almost over 😢 but can’t wait to see what’s next for you!!

@balletbygrace Paris is lucky to have you back — but London will miss you dearly 🥺

@dancealive crying. don’t look at me. I’m emotional and proud. and also booking front row to Paris ASAP

@f1updatesfan so uh. does this mean we’ll see her and Lando in Paris again soon 👀

@carbonfiberballet someone check on @landonorris he’s probably counting the days until she’s leaving 💔

@landoforeverrr She always posts when Lando post. Like she wants people to remember she used to matter 😭

@f1gridgossip rumor has it he already moved on 👀 been partying non-stop in Brazil and someone said he left with a girl last night 👋

@landoisa she’s way too sensitive for him anyway. he needs someone fun, not someone who makes him mope and cry over ballet

@f1paparazzix people say she left the UK because he dumped her… not the other way around. she’s just spinning it cute now lol

@gridgirlshade Why does she act like she’s some big celeb 😭 girl you’re a side character in someone else’s plot

@f1dramaunfiltered y’all saw him at that party in São Paulo?? she’s out here journaling and he’s living his best life 😂

@landospeedqueen why is she pretending everything’s fine when he clearly dumped her 💀

@landobacktolife This is what happens when you date out of your league… no hate but she was never it

@alonsoverse can she just stop using ballet aesthetics to distract us from the fact that her "bf" is probably hooking up with someone else rn 😭

@stageleftdarling People really out here hating on a literal artist who’s just saying goodbye to a stage?? Be serious.

@kika.girard you’re pure grace. let the noise be noise.

@gridgirldiaries they’re mad because you’re soft and strong and Lando’s clearly in love. keep shining.

@arianafansupport sending all the love to Ari. block buttons exist for a reason 💗

@arianariveraupdates can we just talk about the caption… the way she’s been so open this season. proud of our girl 💖

⚠️ Several comments have been removed for violating Instagram’s guidelines

Text Conversation:

Ariana: hey. sorry if this is weird. just wanted to ask something.

Lando: not weird. ask anything.

Ariana: i saw some things online. comments under my last post. people saying stuff about you. about… someone else. i know it’s stupid. but i just— i needed to ask. is there someone else?

…typing

Lando: Ari. no. god, no. there’s no one. there hasn’t been anyone. you don’t have to ask that. i hate that people made you feel like you do.

Ariana: i didn’t want to believe it. but it’s been quiet between us. since you left. it felt like… like maybe you were done.

Lando: i’m not done. i could never be done. the truth is, i didn’t know how to talk to you. leaving felt wrong and weird and too final, and i hated it but i didn’t know how to say that without sounding needy or selfish

Ariana: it didn’t sound selfish. it sounded like goodbye. and i think… maybe that’s what hurt the most.

Lando: i’m sorry. i thought space would be kinder than clinging. i thought you needed focus. your last two shows. the closing of a chapter. i didn’t want to distract you. but it looks like i made things worse instead

Ariana: you didn’t mean to. i know that. i’m just… tired. it’s been a lot. pressures from the company, the final choreography, the stress, the hours… i haven’t really been sleeping.

Lando: wait, what do you mean? how long haven’t you been sleeping?

Ariana: it’s not serious. just the usual pre-show spiral. the perfectionism. the rehearsals. the what-ifs.

Lando: Ari. you can’t burn yourself out. not for this.

Ariana: i have to. it’s what i do.

Lando: i hate that answer.

Ariana: i know. but it’s honest.

Lando: can i help somehow? anything? do you want me to come back?

Ariana: no. you shouldn’t.

Lando: why not?

Ariana: because it’s your break. you haven’t had real time off in months. you should rest. be with your friends. live a little.

Lando: how can i rest knowing you’re not okay?

Ariana: i’ll be okay. it’s just… hard. i think i didn’t realise how much it would hurt to have you gone. and now i don’t even know when we’ll see each other again. and i hate not knowing.

Lando: me too. i miss you. so much.

Ariana: i miss you too. but you deserve to enjoy this part of your life too. without worrying about the girl who stayed behind.

Lando: you're not just the girl who stayed behind. you're the girl I’m waiting for. no matter how far, how long it gets. that hasn’t changed.

seen 12:02 AM

Lando: okay, i know you said you’re “fine” but just in case you forget: you need to eat something real today. not just coffee

Ariana: you set an alarm for this, didn’t you

Lando: 😇 london time, 2pm. daily. “text the beautiful ballerina and ask if she’s had protein yet”

Ariana: you’re a menace

Lando: i’m a concerned menace who knows you forget meals when you get in your head

Ariana: …i did forget lunch. but i’m making a smoothie now don’t yell

Lando: that’s not food

Ariana: it has banana AND peanut butter protein ✔️

Lando: i’m setting another alarm. 9pm. “remind Ariana to sleep before she convinces herself to stretch ‘just one more time’ until 2am”

Ariana: rude. and accurate.

Lando: i know you.

Ariana: you really do.

Lando: and i’m worried, Ari

Ariana: you don’t have to worry but it means a lot that you do i’m trying. really. it’s just a hard week

Lando: i know and if i can’t be there then i’ll be here. texting. reminding. annoying. whatever it takes

Ariana: thank you for remembering for setting alarms in another time zone for not forgetting me when you could have

Lando: never and just in case it gets hard again tonight here’s your official 2am emergency message in advance:

Lando: you’re doing better than you think you’re allowed to rest you don’t have to be perfect you’re already enough

Ariana: you’re going to make me cry in the dressing room

Lando: then cry. and when you’re done, eat something with carbs. and text me when you’re home tonight, yeah?

Ariana: okay i will and… thank you, Lando really

Lando: no thanks needed i’m with you even from 5,000 miles away

Ariana: just got home rehearsal ran late again 🙃

Lando: ari what time is it over there

Ariana: ...1:36am

Lando: 🤦‍♂️ do you ever listen to me

Ariana: you’re the one who told me to text when i got home i’m being responsible actually 😇

Lando: you’re being a gremlin who survives on nerves and chamomile tea

Ariana: accurate also i might have forgotten the tea

Lando: ariana.

Ariana: don’t full-name me i’m fragile rn

Lando: you said you’d go to sleep before midnight tonight i set my alarm and everything

Ariana: i was going to but we had to run the pas de deux three more times then spacing got messed up then my right foot cramped

Lando: have you eaten anything since your banana smoothie at 2pm

Ariana: 🥲 there was a granola bar in my bag

Lando: that’s not a meal that’s a cry for help

Ariana: you’re so dramatic

Lando: says the girl standing in her kitchen at 2am with a sore ankle and a granola wrapper for dinner

Ariana: i’m sitting actually and wrapped in a blanket aria is judging me

Lando: good. at least someone is

Ariana: i miss you even your scolding

Lando: i miss you too but i’m not gonna pretend this doesn’t worry me you can’t keep running on empty like this

Ariana: i just want it to be perfect it’s my last show here i want them to remember me for the right reasons

Lando: they already will you’re unforgettable, Ari not because you run yourself into the ground but because you make everything you do feel like art

Ariana: stop that made me emotional and sleepy but mostly emotional

Lando: good now drink water brush your teeth and sleep i swear if i have to hire a ninja to break into your place and force melatonin into your tea, i will

Ariana: terrifying and oddly sweet okay going now promise

Lando: good you’re doing amazing and i’m so proud of you

Ariana: you always say the right thing

Lando: if you’re not asleep in the next 20 minutes i’m setting another alarm and calling you in a terrible french accent until you hang up

Ariana: ...sleeping now goodnight, Lando

Lando: bonne nuit, ballerine 💛 dream something soft

seen 1:47 AM

Taglist : @angelluv16, @httpsxnox, @anunstablefangirl, @chocolatemagazinecupcake, @mayax2o07, @freyathehuntress, @verogonewild, @esw1012, @lilyofthevalley-09, @its-me-frankie, @linneaguriii, @ezzi-ln4, @rlbmutynnek, @actuallyazriel, @sofs16, @thulior, @sltwins, @knivesdoingcartwheels, @henna006

Let me know if you wanted to be added to the taglist !

[rushikesh-d]

Autonomous Trucks Market Size, Analyzing Trends and Projected Outlook for 2025-2032

Fortune Business Insights released the Global Autonomous Trucks Market Trends Study, a comprehensive analysis of the market that spans more than 150+ pages and describes the product and industry scope as well as the market prognosis and status for 2025-2032. The marketization process is being accelerated by the market study's segmentation by important regions. The market is currently expanding its reach.

The Autonomous Trucks Market is experiencing robust growth driven by the expanding globally. The Autonomous Trucks Market is poised for substantial growth as manufacturers across various industries embrace automation to enhance productivity, quality, and agility in their production processes. Autonomous Trucks Market leverage robotics, machine vision, and advanced control technologies to streamline assembly tasks, reduce labor costs, and minimize errors. With increasing demand for customized products, shorter product lifecycles, and labor shortages, there is a growing need for flexible and scalable automation solutions. As technology advances and automation becomes more accessible, the adoption of automated assembly systems is expected to accelerate, driving market growth and innovation in manufacturing. The size of the global autonomous truck market was $1,074.70 million in 2019 and is expected to reach $2,013.34 million by 2027, with a 12.6% CAGR over the forecast period.

Get Sample PDF Report: https://www.fortunebusinessinsights.com/enquiry/request-sample-pdf/103590

Dominating Region:

North America

Fastest-Growing Region:

Asia-Pacific

Major Autonomous Trucks Market Manufacturers covered in the market report include:

TuSimple, Inc. (San Diego, US)

Waymo LLC (Mountain View, US)

Embark Trucks (San Francisco, US)

Tesla (California, US)

Caterpillar (Illinois, US)

AB Volvo (Gothenburg, Sweden)

Daimler AG (Stuttgart, Germany)

Continental AG (Hanover, Germany)

Robert Bosch GmbH (Stuttgart, Germany)

NVIDIA Corporation (Santa Clara, US)

Aptiv (Dublin, Ireland)

The adoption of advanced driver assistance technologies (ADAS) has significantly improved safety on highways, according to a study conducted by the Federal Motor Carrier Safety Administration in collaboration with trucking industry leaders. An example includes J.B. Hunt, a leading for-hire carrier in the US, which has equipped 98% of its vehicles with a forward-collision warning system and lane departure warning along with dash cameras on 84% of its class 8 trucks. The implementation of such technologies has enabled a 50% reduction in rear-end crashes and an increase in asset uptime and driver retention.

Geographically, the detailed analysis of consumption, revenue, market share, and growth rate of the following regions:

The Middle East and Africa (South Africa, Saudi Arabia, UAE, Israel, Egypt, etc.)

North America (United States, Mexico & Canada)

South America (Brazil, Venezuela, Argentina, Ecuador, Peru, Colombia, etc.)

Europe (Turkey, Spain, Turkey, Netherlands Denmark, Belgium, Switzerland, Germany, Russia UK, Italy, France, etc.)

Asia-Pacific (Taiwan, Hong Kong, Singapore, Vietnam, China, Malaysia, Japan, Philippines, Korea, Thailand, India, Indonesia, and Australia).

Autonomous Trucks Market Research Objectives:

- Focuses on the key manufacturers, to define, pronounce and examine the value, sales volume, market share, market competition landscape, SWOT analysis, and development plans in the next few years.

- To share comprehensive information about the key factors influencing the growth of the market (opportunities, drivers, growth potential, industry-specific challenges and risks).

- To analyze the with respect to individual future prospects, growth trends and their involvement to the total market.

- To analyze reasonable developments such as agreements, expansions new product launches, and acquisitions in the market.

- To deliberately profile the key players and systematically examine their growth strategies.

Frequently Asked Questions (FAQs):

► What is the current market scenario?

► What was the historical demand scenario, and forecast outlook from 2025 to 2032?

► What are the key market dynamics influencing growth in the Global Autonomous Trucks Market?

► Who are the prominent players in the Global Autonomous Trucks Market?

► What is the consumer perspective in the Global Autonomous Trucks Market?

► What are the key demand-side and supply-side trends in the Global Autonomous Trucks Market?

► What are the largest and the fastest-growing geographies?

► Which segment dominated and which segment is expected to grow fastest?

► What was the COVID-19 impact on the Global Autonomous Trucks Market?

FIVE FORCES & PESTLE ANALYSIS:

In order to better understand market conditions five forces analysis is conducted that includes the Bargaining power of buyers, Bargaining power of suppliers, Threat of new entrants, Threat of substitutes, and Threat of rivalry.

Political (Political policy and stability as well as trade, fiscal, and taxation policies)

Economical (Interest rates, employment or unemployment rates, raw material costs, and foreign exchange rates)

Social (Changing family demographics, education levels, cultural trends, attitude changes, and changes in lifestyles)

Technological (Changes in digital or mobile technology, automation, research, and development)

Legal (Employment legislation, consumer law, health, and safety, international as well as trade regulation and restrictions)

Environmental (Climate, recycling procedures, carbon footprint, waste disposal, and sustainability)

Points Covered in Table of Content of Global Autonomous Trucks Market:

Chapter 01 - Autonomous Trucks Market for Automotive Executive Summary

Chapter 02 - Market Overview

Chapter 03 - Key Success Factors

Chapter 04 - Global Autonomous Trucks Market - Pricing Analysis

Chapter 05 - Global Autonomous Trucks Market Background or History

Chapter 06 - Global Autonomous Trucks Market Segmentation (e.g. Type, Application)

Chapter 07 - Key and Emerging Countries Analysis Worldwide Autonomous Trucks Market.

Chapter 08 - Global Autonomous Trucks Market Structure & worth Analysis

Chapter 09 - Global Autonomous Trucks Market Competitive Analysis & Challenges

Chapter 10 - Assumptions and Acronyms

Chapter 11 - Autonomous Trucks Market Research Methodology

About Us:

Fortune Business Insights™ delivers accurate data and innovative corporate analysis, helping organizations of all sizes make appropriate decisions. We tailor novel solutions for our clients, assisting them to address various challenges distinct to their businesses. Our aim is to empower them with holistic market intelligence, providing a granular overview of the market they are operating in.

Contact Us:

Fortune Business Insights™ Pvt. Ltd.

US:+18339092966

UK: +448085020280

APAC: +91 744 740 1245

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2025 Toyota Sequoia Expert Review: Drive, Performance & Specs Tested

The Evolution of Toyota's Flagship SUV

The 2025 Toyota Sequoia represents a significant leap forward in the full-size SUV segment, combining robust performance with contemporary design and advanced hybrid technology. After extensive testing across varied terrain and driving conditions, we're ready to share our comprehensive findings.

Commanding Performance with Eco-Conscious Engineering

At the heart of the 2025 Sequoia sits the impressive i-FORCE MAX hybrid system, delivering an exceptional balance of power and efficiency. This powertrain produces 437 horsepower and 583 lb-ft of torque—figures that translate to confident highway passing and capable towing capacity of up to 9,520 pounds.

The hybrid system seamlessly transitions between electric and combustion power, particularly noticeable in stop-and-go traffic where the Sequoia demonstrates remarkable fuel efficiency for its class. During our week-long test, we achieved 22 MPG combined—impressive for a vehicle of this stature.

Refined Road Manners

Despite its commanding size, the Sequoia delivers surprisingly composed handling. The steering feels appropriately weighted—light enough for parking maneuvers yet substantial at highway speeds. The adaptive suspension system (standard on higher trims) effectively mitigates road imperfections, creating a comfortable ride quality even on challenging surfaces.

Braking performance impresses with predictable pedal feel and reliable stopping power. During emergency braking tests, the Sequoia demonstrated minimal nose dive and maintained admirable stability.

Thoughtful Interior Evolution

Inside, Toyota has addressed previous generation criticisms with a thoroughly modernized cabin. The 14-inch touchscreen infotainment system responds quickly to inputs and features intuitive menu navigation. Wireless Apple CarPlay and Android Auto come standard, complemented by a crisp digital instrument cluster.

Materials quality has been elevated throughout, with soft-touch surfaces in key touchpoints and convincing wood accents in premium trims. The Capstone trim particularly stands out with its semi-aniline leather and ambient lighting that transforms the cabin after dark.

Practical Family Functionality

The Sequoia's three-row configuration accommodates up to eight passengers (seven with the optional second-row captain's chairs). Front and second-row occupants enjoy generous space, while the third row proves adequate for teenagers and adults on shorter journeys. The sliding second row adds welcome flexibility for optimizing passenger or cargo space.

Cargo capacity stands at 22.3 cubic feet behind the third row, expanding to 86.9 cubic feet with both rear rows folded—competitive figures that accommodate family gear, camping equipment, or home improvement supplies with equal ease.

Safety Technology Suite

Toyota's commitment to safety continues with the 2025 Sequoia's comprehensive Toyota Safety Sense 3.0 package. Standard features include pre-collision warning with pedestrian detection, adaptive cruise control, lane keeping assistance, and automatic high beams. Higher trims add valuable enhancements like 360-degree camera views and traffic jam assist functionality.

The Verdict

The 2025 Toyota Sequoia successfully balances traditional SUV virtues with modern expectations for efficiency, technology, and refinement. While the starting price reflects its premium positioning, the combination of hybrid efficiency, powerful performance, and comprehensive feature set creates compelling value when viewed against its full-size competitors.

Whether navigating urban environments, tackling light off-road adventures, or handling family road trips, the latest Sequoia proves itself a capable and confidence-inspiring companion that honors its heritage while embracing the future.

Explore detailed specifications and trim comparisons

Check out our performance analysis data