#quick shutdown

[itbabasachinsharma]

How To Create Shutdown Shortcut Button | Laptop | Desktop | Windows 10,8,7 | By Sachin Sharma

[spearxwind]

I would like to offer a sincere apology to every horror movie protagonist I've ever complained about for losing their braincells when horny. I now know how that feels like. I am no longer allowed say "Could not be me" when watching them make disastrous decisions in favor of laying pipe

[bobzora]

is this a safe space. can i be honest and say the first time i played royal for a good bit i assumed that the car accident that killed kasumi was caused by akechi.

i think my thought process was: sojiro mentions an accident in the beginning when he didn't in the original -> sumi has a dead sister -> so the girl killed in the accident was probably her sister -> akechi caused every other vehicular incident in the game -> therefore akechi caused the crash that killed sumi's sister

[ultra-phthalo]

Cinnabar blog post. Sharing part of the sketch before getting around to finalising this.

[p5x-theories]

Everyone keeps suggesting that Sojiro not owning LeBlanc means something bad happened to him but it could always mean that Wakaba never died in this universe

Haha, yeah! If we assume there really are counterparts to every P5 character in P5X's universe that have just lived different lives, the butterfly effect becomes super apparently really quickly: Goro Akechi lived a different life, which inherently means Shido, Joker, Okumura, Haru, Maruki, Wakaba, Sojiro, and Futaba's lives would all look pretty different right now, too.

[rastronomicals]

1:58 PM EST March 3, 2025:

The Chob - "We're Pretty Quick" From the Compilation album   Teenage Shutdown Vol. 4 : I'm A No-Count (October 6, 1998)

Last song scrobbled from iTunes at Last.fm

From the semi-notorious series of compilations chronicling 60's garage.

--

  <640x500>

[milkyst4rs]

"Can we cuddle?"

You say with a slight pout as you watch Sukuna get ready for a long night's rest. His maroon satin robe ripples with each step he takes, it is mesmerising.

"No."

A quick shutdown from Sukuna, which instantly causes you to complain and frown.

"Oh cmon! Pleeeeeaase? I can't sleep without holding something!"

Sukuna flops on the bed next to you with a big grunt. He turns his head to look at you, his expression deadpanned.

"I will get Uraume to bring in an extra pillow for yo-"

Before he could finish his sentence, your arms enfold around his buff frame, a content sigh leaves your upturned lips.

"No need, your chest is more than enough for me."

"How am I going to sleep with you squeezing me, brat."

You look up at Sukuna and giggle.

"Just hug me back, silly!"

You grab Sukuna's arms and put them around your waist. Though Sukuna complains about the invasion of space, he makes no effort to stop you.

"Night kuna...love you"

You say softly as you drift off to sleep, your mind and soul at ease when Sukuna starts to rub his thumb in slow circles on your back.

Sukuna makes sure you are dead asleep before he wishes you goodnight.

"Goodnight, I love you too."

Sukuna closes his eyes, feeling relaxed from your warmth, he could get used to this.

____________________________________________

A/n • just a teeny tiny piece for you !! Requests for jjk fluff are open, so if you have anything in mind send it in !! <3

[murderessdominatrix]

I love when people go 'roe v wade was overturned under Biden's watch!' because it just proves to me that they either didn't pay attention in 6th grade poli-sci class OR they're trump psy ops.

Who appointed the Supreme Court Justices that OVERTURNED Roe v Wade? Hint: not Biden.

'Biden has done nothing to stem reactionary transphobic laws' do me a favor. Take a singular civics class. You will learn that the US has 2 types of laws, Federal laws and State laws. You will also learn Biden is the Executive Branch of the Federal government. The Executive Branch of the Federal government has SOME influence over Federal Laws and essentially NO control over State Laws. You will also learn these transphobic bills that are being passed are State Laws, not Federal Laws.

Now, State Laws can be contested through the Federal Court and be overturned by the Supreme Court but - shocker- Trump made the Supreme Court majority Republican under his term by appointing THREE Republican Justices! And Biden can't change that unless one of them dies or voluntarily retires! And since we don't live under a Tyranny (which Trump has stated he would be interested in creating, btw, look up Project 2025), Biden cannot force the Supreme Court to do what he wants!

i don’t know how to feel about all these anxious posts talking about how trump’s shooting is going to be a rallying point for the right & how they’re going to use it to win the election. because while yes, i’ve already seen people making a martyr of a living man because of this, it’s been obvious for months — if not well over a year — that biden is not winning this fucking election. it was obvious before tonight; it was obvious before the debate: biden’s ass is losinggg!!!!

and even if it hadn’t been obvious, even if biden actually had a fighting chance in this upcoming election, please be honest for a second: would it matter either way? 200 palestinians were killed just today in an ongoing genocide funded and supplied directly by joe biden, which has killed — in the course of only nine months — well over 180,000 people. and if you seriously believe trump would be worse for gaza than biden, just look at where gaza is now: hospital bombings are routine and un-newsworthy, just as is children as young as a day old being shot at, bombed, or buried under rubble. how much meaningfully worse can it be?

and if you are somebody who only cares about domestic issues, — a cowardly and remarkably selfish political standpoint to have in the united states, the most powerful country on the planet whose fingers are in the affairs of every other country on earth — be clearheaded. biden has done nothing but further push the democratic party right. more police killings have happened under his tenure than trump’s; roe v. wade was overturned during his administration; and he has done absolutely nothing to stem the tide of reactionary transphobic bills being passed in state after state.

it’s joever. it’s been joever. if you don’t see that now and you’re still seriously campaigning for this man, i think you are naïve, stupid, selfish, or all three.

[govtshutdown]

Amazingly, the House acted in a timely manner. Wow!

Just three hours after the Senate voted, the House suspended the rules and passed it 314-108

[thewickedjazzy]

"Chuuya soothing you during your period."

Quick, call 911? This art is so gorgeous, my brain just did a full system shutdown. I need a reboot!

Credits to the amazing artist @laelepuc .

[pitlanepeach]

Radio Silence | Chapter Twenty

Lando Norris x Amelia Brown (OFC)

Series Masterlist

Summary — Order is everything. Her habits aren’t quirks, they’re survival techniques. And only three people in the world have permission to touch her: Mom, Dad, Fernando.

Then Lando Norris happens.

One moment. One line crossed. No going back.

Warnings — Autistic!OFC, strong language, racing accident (spa 2021 q3), fuck the fia basically, autistic shutdown, angst (!!!!), brief mention of a life-ending accident.

Notes — Ok. Prepare yourselves. This one might hurt.

Want to be added to the taglist? Let me know! — Peach x

Chapter Twenty (Spa—Italy) 

The circuit is underwater.

Amelia sits on the low wall in front of the garages, glancing over at the track. Puddled, she thinks. Flooded was probably a better word, but nobody wanted to say it out loud.

A thousand stubborn fans in the grandstands spot her and call her name, undeterred by the downpour. She waves and flashes them a quick smile before hopping down and heading back toward Max’s garage, pulling the sleeves of her hoodie down over her hands.

“They’ll red flag it,” she says, shrugging as she steps inside. “Even if it means postponing qualifying. It’s not drivable out there.”

Max sighs and glances at his dad, who just gives an unhelpful shrug in return.

GP pops his head around the corner, his expression flat. “Just heard from race control. We’re heading out in twenty minutes.”

Amelia stares at him, aghast. “Are you serious? I mean—do they have a set of working eyes between them? It’s awful out there!”

GP shrugs like it’s out of his hands. “They want to give the fans something. Don’t want the complaints. Plus, some of the teams are pushing, saying it’s just a case of slicks.”

She narrows her eyes at him, unimpressed. “Which teams?” she demands.

GP opens his mouth to answer, but Max cuts him off. “No. Don’t tell her. She’ll only cause a scene.” Max turns to her, giving her arm a squeeze. His touch is meant to be calming, but it feels too light against the storm brewing in her chest. “It’s fine. We’ll all be careful,” he promises. “We’ve driven in worse conditions.”

She blinks, and all she can see is a boy—too young, too trusting—spinning out on this very track, his life taken away from him because someone said it would be fine. “Two years ago…” she starts, voice catching.

Max doesn’t let her finish. “Don’t. Don’t do that to yourself, zusje.”

She presses her lips together, closing her eyes for a beat, sucking in a trembling breath. When she opens them, she looks past Max—at Jos, then GP. “Christian thinks this is okay?” she asks, voice low.

GP shakes his head immediately. “No. He was one of the team principals against it.”

Oh. That was pleasant surprise.

— 

The rain only got worse once there were cars on track. 

Amelia paced like a caged animal just behind the line of Max’s engineers, arms folded so tight across her chest it felt like she was holding herself together by force alone. The spray was impossible. Drivers couldn’t see five meters ahead, and the aquaplaning was awful. 

Her stomach twisted tighter with every sector.

They were not driving anymore — they were guessing. Hoping.

She bit her lip hard enough to taste blood. 

A car twitched through Eau Rouge and saved it. Barely.

She shot a furious look at GP, who lifted a hand in her direction like he was expecting her to throw something at him and needed to defend from it.

“I swear to god,” she hissed under her breath, “if anyone gets hurt—”

“Amelia,” Jos said sharply. He didn’t look away from the screens. “Don’t.”

She clenched her hands into fists at her sides, breathing hard through her nose.

—

Lando thrived in the wet.

Where other drivers hesitated, he attacked, carving through the standing water like it was nothing more than mist. He looked alive out there. 

He was flying.

By the end of Q1, he was at the top of the timesheets, Max just a few hundredths behind him.

Amelia watched from the back of Max’s garage, heart pounding harder with every sector split. She barely registered the noise around her, engineers discussing, the pit wall scrambling as Max came back in for a fresh set. 

By the end of Q2, he was still there.

Still leading. Still flying.

Amelia didn’t even realise she was holding her breath until the session ended, the screen freezing with his name at the top.

Still at the top. Ahead of both Mercedes, ahead of Max. 

She pressed her knuckles to her mouth to stifle a noise she didn’t even recognise — part pride, part awe, part something else, raw and endless.

— 

“Did that McLaren make it around the corner?” 

It happened fast. Too fast. A flash of a McLaren on the big screen, the car snapping sideways through Eau Rouge, spinning into the barriers with a violence that made the garage gasp.

The monitors flickered to the crash site. Crumpled carbon. Shattered wings.

No movement.

Amelia didn’t move either.

She stood dead still. Silent. 

And then she started whispering under her breath. "Oversteer mid-corner. Hydroplaned. No visibility. No grip. No correction possible." It wasn’t emotion — it was fact. Cold, clean, merciless.

Someone called her name.

She didn’t react.

Jos appeared a second later, hand reaching for her arm, voice low, concerned, "Amelia—"

She ripped away from him so violently he took a step back. "Don’t touch me!" she snapped, voice too loud, too sharp. "I'm thinking!"

Silence snapped over the garage like a taut wire. Eyes everywhere.

She didn't care. She just stared at the monitor, at the wreckage, at the nothingness.

Then… a voice, through a sudden crackle of radio static. GP had shoved a headset onto her head, barely sliding it into place, as Lando’s voice filled her ears, grainy but alive. "—I’m okay. Sorry about that, boys. Big crash."

She blinked. Stared at the screen. Saw Sebastian pulling up next to him in the Aston, saw Lando wave from inside the cockpit — a shaky, unmistakable sign of life.

Another voice filtered in, maybe GP’s, maybe Will’s. “Driver’s talking. He’s moving. All good.”

Lando again, winded but alive, alive, alive, "Make sure Amelia’s okay. She didn’t see, did she? Fuck, mate, that was bad. Go make sure she’s okay—"

She couldn’t seem to form a coherent thought. 

She just stared at the footage as it played over and over on the feed, the spray, the blind corner, the sudden absence of the car where it should have been, the brutal, sickening impact against the wall.

Her nails dug into her own forearms hard enough to leave crescent moons.

Her mind blanked.

Detached.

Facts and figures and split times. Angles and force vectors and hydroplaning coefficients.

If she thought about it clinically, if she could just keep it mathematical, then maybe it wouldn’t hurt as much. 

— 

They let her into medical after twenty minutes.

Twenty minutes where she didn't move. Twenty minutes where she counted every breath she took and tried to keep her body from violently trembling. 

When she finally crossed the threshold, Lando was sitting up on the stretcher, hair soaked and matted down from the rain and sweat. His race suit was still zipped up to his neck, damp and dirty from the impact. His left hand was flexing repeatedly like it hurt, but he was smiling at the doctor. A crooked, too-wide smile that didn’t reach his eyes.

When he saw her, the smile vanished.

“Baby,” he said, voice rough.

She stopped halfway across the room.

He looked her over once, quick and assessing — and she knew he saw it. The stiffness in her posture. The emptiness in her eyes. The way she was standing like she was still waiting for a second crash, a worse outcome.

He pushed off the stretcher, wincing a little but moving anyway, stubborn and alive, and crossed the room to her.

She didn’t move. Didn’t lift her arms. Didn’t even reach for him.

Lando didn’t seem to care.

He wrapped his arms around her anyway, wet and shivering and still so real, pulling her into his chest. His hand found the back of her head, cradling it against him. "Hey," he murmured, soft enough that only she could hear. "I’m here. I’m okay. You can touch me. I'm real."

She stood frozen for a second longer, and then, slowly, she pressed her hands to his ribs. Felt the rise and fall of his breath. The heat of him under her palms.

"Physics said you should have flipped," she said into his chest.

"Yeah, well," he said, smiling against her hair, "physics can suck it."

She let out a single, sharp breath, not quite a laugh. Not quite a sob.

Lando's arms tightened.

"You can be mad," he told her, still that same soft, low tone. "You can be scared. You can even punch me if you want. Just... don’t disappear into that pretty head of yours, okay?"

She closed her eyes, finally letting her forehead drop against him, anchoring herself to the solid, beating proof of him.

"I’m trying," she whispered.

"I know," he said. And he just held her

— 

The door cracked open again, and suddenly Max was there.

Still half in his race suit, soaked through from the rain, his hair dripping into his eyes.

He didn’t say anything. Didn’t ask. Just crossed the room in three long strides and dropped to his knees in front of Amelia.

She turned her head slowly. 

Max’s eyes flicked over her quickly, assessing, calculating. "Hey," he said, voice low, controlled. "You’re alright?”

Amelia didn’t respond. She wasn’t crying. She wasn’t doing anything, really, just sitting there in Lando’s lap, stiff, her hands still twisted in the fabric of his fireproofs like she was the one holding him together and not the other way around.

Max exhaled, long and slow. Then, without asking, he reached out and cupped the back of her head, pulling her gently forward until her forehead bumped against his.

"Listen to me," he said quietly, his voice rough with feeling. "You did everything right. You are alright. Lando is alright. I'm here. We’re all still here, okay?"

She squeezed her eyes shut, her breathing finally hitching a little.

Max just held her there, forehead to forehead, grounding her with the solid weight of his presence.

"You’re safe, zusje," he murmured, almost too softly to hear. “And so are we. Everyone made it out alive, okay? Is that what you need to hear? Nobody died today.” 

A shaky little sound escaped her, halfway between a sigh and a sob.

Lando tightened his arms around her from behind, his chin pressing into her shoulder, anchoring her.

Max pulled back just enough to look her in the eyes. “I got pole.” 

She manages a tiny, proud smile. “Well done.” 

— 

@/f1girlies: Amelia not even flinching when they showed Lando's crash... just staring at the screen like she's trying to solve it. There is a terrifying amount of love between them. 🥲💔 #F1 #BelgianGP

@/landozluvbot: idk what broke me more. Lando's crash or seeing Amelia looking like a ghost in the garage after. she didn’t even cry she just shut down 😭😭

@/redbullmax: Max asking if Amelia was okay over the radio after the red flag… this fcking team is going to kill me #BelgianGP

@/McLarenUpdates: The way Amelia was repeating technical data out loud after the crash... pure survival mode. That’s an engineer trying not to lose it over the boy she loves getting hurt 😭 #BelgianGP

@/softforf1: Seb pulling up next to Lando to check on him. Max worrying about Amelia. Everyone looking after each other. F1 can be brutal but it’s a family too 🧡 #F1Family

@/verstappencharts: “don’t touch me, i’m thinking!” amelia shouting at jos verstappen 😭😭 girl was fighting for her life. i was genuinely in tears watching her. my fellow neurodivergent girlies understand that she was fully shutting down 

@/mclarensun: saying "make sure amelia’s okay" while he's still in the car wreckage was the most heartbreaking thing i’ve ever heard no i'm not okay

—

She feels broken.

A shell of herself.

Curled up on her side in her dad’s hotel suite, knees tucked against her chest, face buried in the pillow that still smelled like him — his shampoo, his aftershave, something warm and familiar and safe.

Lando was sleeping.

Bruised, sore, but breathing. Alive.

She’d left him there, in their hotel room, the weight of everything pressing too heavy on her chest to stay. She couldn't hold herself together, not even for him.

Her dad had found her at the rooftop bar, sitting alone in a corner, staring blankly into a glass of Sprite. He hadn’t said anything, just crouched down, touched her hand, and guided her gently to her feet.

He’d led her here, to his suite. Set her down on the bed like she was something fragile. Like if he said the wrong thing, she might shatter completely.

Then he’d stepped outside into the hallway.

She pressed her face deeper into the pillow, breathing in the scent of him, wishing she could crawl into her childhood and never have to leave again.

She felt selfish.

Selfish for making this about her when Lando was the one who’d crashed.

Selfish for being weak.

Selfish for needing someone, when Lando needed her.

She squeezed her eyes shut, her body stiff and aching, and tried not to think.

Tried not to feel.

Tried, and failed.

— 

Her dad returned, a quiet figure in the doorway before stepping inside. He crossed the room and sat on the edge of the bed with a soft sigh. “Fernando is here, sweetheart,” he said, his voice gentle, trying to ease something too big for him to handle alone. “I thought he might be able to help.”

Fernando sat beside her, his presence grounding, steady. He didn’t rush into conversation, simply waiting. His eyes softened as they met hers.

After a long, thoughtful pause, he spoke, his voice low, weighted with experience. “I’ve had a lot of crashes, niña,” he began. “Big ones. Ones where I didn’t know if I was going to make it out alive.”

Amelia, still frozen, slowly turned her head to look at him.

“In 2010, I crashed in Canada,” he continued, his hands folded in his lap. “The wall hit me hard. The car was destroyed. I remember seeing the barrier coming and thinking, ‘This is it. I’m not going to get out of this one.’”

Amelia’s breath hitched. She searched his face for any sign of what he’d felt, but his expression was calm. 

“I remember sitting there afterward,” he said, “and not feeling pain at first. It was like everything just shut down. I was alive, but I couldn’t process what happened. I didn’t know what came next.”

He paused, letting the weight of his words settle in the room.

“Then, in 2016, another crash—this time in Baku. The impact was hard, but what scared me the most was the silence. After the crash, there was this stillness. I didn’t know if I could move, if I could breathe properly. And all I could think was, ‘What if I can’t get out of here?’”

Amelia’s lips parted, her hands trembling in her lap as the emotions she’d buried began to rise.

“I’ve been through a lot, niña,” Fernando said, his voice steady but compassionate. “But every time, you trust that the team, the doctors will pull you out. Even when you can’t feel it. And when it’s over, you’re just thankful. So thankful.”

He looked at her with intensity, his gaze warm. “Lando will feel the same. Thankful he made it out. Thankful he can return to you.”

Amelia’s walls cracked. Her breath quickened, uneven, as emotions she’d kept buried threatened to break free. Her voice trembled as she whispered, “Nando, I was so scared.”

Fernando pulled her into a tight hug, his voice soft yet firm. “Ah, niña... fear is part of this sport. You know that. You know about all the crashes I’ve been through, probably with more detail than I can remember. Use that smart brain of yours. Let yourself feel the fear. But don’t feel shame for it.”

Amelia clung to him, then turned to her dad. She managed a small, broken smile, a silent ‘thank you’ for bringing Fernando to her.

— 

She tiptoed back into their hotel room, shedding her clothes and slipping into bed in just her underwear. She pressed herself against Lando's warmth, inhaling a shaky breath.

His arms instinctively wrapped around her, pulling her closer. “Where’d you go, baby? You’re freezing,” he murmured against her ear, tucking the blanket around them both.

“Just needed to talk to Fernando,” she replied softly, her voice barely above a whisper. “Go back to sleep, Lan.”

She watched him sleep for a while, his breathing steady and calm. Her fingers gently brushed his neck, resting there, feeling the steady pulse beneath her touch. With a quiet exhale, she let herself drift off, comforted by the rhythm of his heartbeat.

— 

“They should’ve suspended the session the second the aquaplaning became a problem and the drivers started to make it clear that the conditions were too dangerous,” Amelia said, her voice low but firm.

Sebastian nodded thoughtfully. “I agree.”

Amelia crossed her arms, leaning against the table as she glanced down at the papers in front of them. They were in a small, quiet back room in the Aston Martin hospitality, away from the noise of the paddock. Sebastian had been working on the official complaint for the GPDA, and Amelia had come in to help finalise a few things.

“I really appreciate you checking on Lando after the crash,” Amelia told him, after a lapse of silence. "It meant a lot. To him and to me.” 

Sebastian gave a small nod. “Of course. And how are you doing? You have had a rough few races, huh.” 

She nodded, itching the back of her neck. “Yeah. It’s— it’s been a lot to deal with. But yesterday could’ve been prevented. That’s why I’m so mad, I think.”

Sebastian leaned back in his chair and folded his arms. “That’s why the GPDA matters. We have to keep pushing for better safety measures, for the drivers to be heard." He paused, glancing at her with a thoughtful expression. "You’ve got the right mind for this, Amelia. I’ve been meaning to ask for a while now, but how would you feel about joining me on the panel? You’d bring a fresh perspective, especially with everything you do behind the scenes. You’d make a real impact."

Amelia raised an eyebrow, a bit taken aback by the offer. "I don’t know…”

“Of course, I get it,” Sebastian said quickly, giving her a reassuring smile. “No pressure. But think about it, yes?”

Amelia nodded. "I will. I just— I already feel like I’m being split in a million directions.” 

Sebastian gave a knowing smile. “No pressure. The offer will still be there if you ever change your mind.” He glanced down at the page. “So, you think we’ve got the final draft ready to send off?”

Amelia glanced at the papers again, nodding. “Yeah, I think this should do it. We’ve got a strong case. Now, we just need to make sure it’s heard.”

Sebastian gave a small smile, satisfaction flickering in his eyes. “Alright. Let’s get it to the drivers then. Thank you for helping out, Amelia. This wouldn’t be as strong without your input.”

She smiled back, feeling a little lighter. “Of course.” 

— 

They suspended the Grand Prix after one lap.

Amelia was selfishly relieved. She left GP with a quick smile and made her way across to the McLaren garages.

She waited as Lando climbed out of the car, got weighed, and finally spotted her — standing there with a cookie she’d swiped from the hotel breakfast, held out like a peace offering.

His face lit up, the disappointment of the day forgotten in an instant.

“God, I love you,” he said, grinning as he took the cookie.

She just grinned back. 

—

WhatsApp Groupchat — 2021 F1 Grid

Sebastian V.

Please can everyone sign this document and send it back to me? Thanks!

Max V.

GDPA?

Sebastian V.

Yes, mate.

Lando N.

Wait, did Amelia help you with that Her name’s at the bottom

Sebastian V.

Your girlfriend is very smart, Norris. She also believes that driver safety should take precedence over the entertainment value of a dangerous session.

Lewis H.

She’s a good kid. @Lando I tried to talk to her after Silverstone, but she brushed me off.

Lando N.

Yeah mate, not being funny, but you were part of the reason the guy she sees as a brother ended up in the tyre barrier You can’t be surprised she’s a bit pissed

Max V.

She ignored you, Lewis? LOL

George R.

Alright, let’s not do this here. Groupchat is for racing talk only. And Amelia, if necessary. This is not necessary.

Yuki T

.I have signed! I didn’t read it first. What did I just sign?

Esteban O.

Contract extension.

Yuki T.

HOLY SHIT, REALLY?

Esteban O.

No. Start reading things before you sign them.

— 

Max wins his home race.

The Dutch fans go insane for it. Orange smoke suffocates the track before he even crosses the line — it’s like a living, breathing thing, filling the air, staining the sky. The stands are roaring, a wall of noise and cheers that doesn’t seem to let up.

She can’t stop smiling.

This will mean everything to him.

The whole weekend had been madness; the crowd, the pressure, the constant buzz that hummed around Max like static. She’d worried, in a quiet, gnawing way, that it would be too much. That the expectation would crush him.

Instead, he rose to meet it, higher and higher, like he’d been made for this. He had, probably. He was controlled. Fast. Untouchable.

In the paddock after the race, everything feels a little magical. 

She and Lando are making their way toward the exit, half-holding hands, half-dragging their feet because nobody really wants to leave the energy behind yet, when a member of the Dutch media steps in front of them.

“Are you proud of Max’s win?” the reporter asks, microphone shoved toward her, as if there’s any possible answer but the obvious.

She beams; can’t help it, even if she wanted to. “I’m incredibly proud,” she says, heart in it completely.

Behind her, Lando chuckles low in his throat. She feels his hand tighten around hers, warm and steady. When she glances back at him, he’s looking at her like she hung the stars, his smile fond, just for her.

— 

There’s no time between leaving the Netherlands and travelling straight to Italy, but somehow Amelia still manages to carve out enough of it to throw together a Pinterest board titled ‘Monaco Apartment’.

She shows Lando every phase she goes through — minimalist, then eclectic, then back again — and he just laughs, indulging her with amused commentary and the occasional veto when something was just a bit too extreme.

Eventually, she settles on something halfway between bohemian and modern; clean lines and light, natural colours, but still full of texture and life. Cozy, but grown-up.

She picks out paint colours while they’re waiting in airport lounges, scrolling through endless swatches. Lando gives his opinions on furniture when she nudges her phone under his nose — usually something like, “That’s too white, I’ll spill something on it,” or “I like that, it looks comfy.”

He has only one real request: that the spare room be turned into a streaming room for him, and she could take the bigger office.

It’s a no-brainer.

The office is huge, the window overlooks the street below, and she can already imagine herself there; late nights, sketching out ideas with music playing softly in the background.

He grins at her when she agrees without hesitation, bumping their shoulders together as if to say 'teamwork.'

The new chapter of their life together starts to take shape, little by little, through swatches, and wishlists. 

In a few months, they’ll move in for real.

Maybe then it’ll finally feel like something tangible.  

— 

WhatsApp — 2021 F1 Groupchat

Lando N.

Quick question

Max V.

Already found it, mate. She left it in the strat room.

Lando N.

👍

George R.

That was quicker than usual.

Charles L.

I see Lando’s name pop up and immediately start looking for an iPad. Is that Pavlovian?

Checo P.

Yes.

— 

On the jet, she finishes it.

Not just a rough sketch of the chassis — the whole package.

Every line, every angle calculated. Suspension geometry, underfloor shaping, cooling architecture. Aero efficiency balanced with mechanical grip.

She closes the sketchbook slowly, fingertips brushing the page like she’s sealing a secret inside.

A complete concept. Theoretical, but sound.

She glances at Max across the aisle, wondering briefly if he’ll resent her for it someday.

But she’s already done it for him. Designed the core philosophy that would carry him through 2022 and 2023, championships won before the seasons have even begun.

She isn’t thinking about just the next two years, though.

She’s thinking beyond that. She's thinking about evolution, dominance. . . legacy.

A future she could build, one millimetre at a time.

NEXT CHAPTER

[sturionic]

HALT! Americans seeking to confidently and wrongly explain other countries' politics, and Canadians who failed 6th grade social studies:

Since I've just seen this for like the 20th time today, let's go over real quick some hot topics about the Canadian political system.

Did Prime Minister Trudeau "use the tariffs" as a power-grab to hold onto his seat? No, he did not. PM Trudeau resigned his seat and then agreed to stay on until the Liberal Party of Canada chose a new leader. He abided by the timeline he set, and did not stay a second longer than would have been expected of him under due Canadian process. He is now fini.

Did the New Democratic Party and the Conservative Party initiate a government shutdown? No. The Governor General initiated Parliament being prorogued (which they usually do under the advice of the sitting PM) - which is not remotely the same thing as a USA government shutdown. "Proroguing" parliament is basically hitting a big ol' pause/reset button on any legislative and funding decisions in progress. Everything else in the government continues on as normal. Whether a given Canadian agrees with the current rationale or not, the fact is that Canadian governments do this all the time. The NDP and Conservatives pledged to a future no-confidence vote, which does unseat the current PM - but this is still not the same thing as a government shutdown, and now the situation may change as the PM went ahead and beat them to it by resigning on his own.

Mark Carney is, as of Sunday, Canada's new PM-Designate. Was he (GASP) unelected?! Is this undemocratic?! This one's for the gajillion Americans I've seen spouting this garbage all over social media. Jesus christ no this is not how Canadian democracy works. If you see other Americans saying this, smack them upside the head for me, please and thank-you. Canadians do not elect the individual Prime Minister. In a federal election, you rock up to the booth and are given a ballot listing the MPs (Members of Parliament) for your riding (electoral district) - the idea being that you're voting for a local person who will then go forth and represent your riding's interests in Parliament. Your vote for an MP is also a vote for the political party they are attached to, unless they are an independent. The Prime Minister is elected by the party. Justin Trudeau stepped down as PM, so it is the responsibility of the LPC to elect his successor, and they chose Mark Carney, who won against several other LPC candidates running. No doubt Carney will trigger a general election soon, and the Canadian populace will have the chance to decide whether they like the LPC with Carney at the head any better than they liked the LPC with Trudeau at the head. 4. Are you saying all of this because you're a Liberal Party apologist/Trudeau defender/Carney fan?! No. The Liberal Party of Canada are a bunch of fucking ghouls and it shrivels my very soul that the federal NDP have fucked up every hand they've been dealt since 2015; so our viable choices are "party of fucking ghouls who have been sitting around in a dark room jerking each other's withered tallywhackers for the past century" or "Party who are very open about the fact that they are going to turn around, drop their pants, and sell the whole country to the USA for 50¢ the literal second they're elected." You can hate Canadian politicians or Canada as a country all you like. That said, holy shit, can we not confidently mislabel other countries' politics as 'undemocratic.' It is really, really, CRUCIALLY, FUCKING VITALLY important right now not to accidentally fall ass-first into the American government's strategy of "trying to make Canada look like an undemocratic backwater in need of 'saving'" because that is how the American government sets the stage for invasions of other countries. Please. Do better.

[khizuo]

The blackout in Sudan caused a severe chokehold on the flow of crucial information. The stifling absence of communication channels obstructs the dissemination of vital updates, hindering the ability of both local and international entities to comprehend the depth and dynamics of the crisis. This information blackout not only obstructs the coordination of essential services, medical assistance, and humanitarian aid but also creates a breeding ground for misinformation and speculation. The scarcity of accurate, real-time information not only challenges the immediate response efforts, but also compounds the difficulty of mapping out a comprehensive strategy to address the multifaceted challenges faced by the Sudanese population. Sarra Elhassan, a Sudanese content creator, explains how dire the situation is with the on-going blackout in Sudan on X (formerly known as Twitter). In her quick update for 23rd of Febuary, she claims that clashes are persisting in Khartoum, claiming civilian lives, while videos reveal RSF attacks in West Darfur’s Mukjar, part of an ethnic cleansing campaign causing massive displacement. In Jezira State, Tanoub village suffered casualties. The blackout exacerbates the hunger crisis, impacting 90% of Sudanese. E-banking disruption hampers access to necessities, leading to the shutdown of communal kitchens in conflict zones. The blackout’s ripple effects extend beyond communication disruptions, shaping a multidimensional crisis.

(February 24, 2024)

Hissa Al Thani's Twitter

[souriru]

✨️Oh pretty soul✨️ prompt 6 with Leonya pleez 😁🙏 it's giving perfectly planned date gone wrong but with a good ending and I live for that HWKSHWJSJS I wanna see some chaos and Leona being unlucky asf trying to save it with some backup plans that's all thank yew

Here I spin for u again

listen. he had this under control. he did, and he swore to every god existing in every universe that he did. the plan was simple, too- leave nrc's campus, head to a cafe, have something light to eat, maybe a coffee if he was in the mood for it, a long walk through the markets down in the town and the coast, and then head back to a nice restaurant, catch a movie if there's time, and then head back to cuddle at ramshackle after throwing grim out either of the bed of the window.

instead, it had been a disaster from start to finish.

the light, fancy breakfast at the cafe? overcrowded. by the time you two got a table, they were out of half the menu, and the servers looked so exhausted you meekly asked for a croissant to split with leona and a cup of coffee and tea. the walk in the market? again, overcrowded, especially since apparently, the mostro lounge was running an event they hadn't advertised yet (a whole issue considering crowley's exhaustive rules, at least leona got blackmail).

the coast? overtaken by every single couple on the island, either from the town or nrc or rsa. then, a random light shower ruined everyone's dates, leaving the two of you soaking and stranded. leona had tried to salvage things by taking you to a movie you'd been wanting to see for a while now, only for the projector to break fifteen minutes in. and dinner? a last-minute kitchen mishap at the restaurant he'd liked led to a complete shutdown.

so instead of candlelights and your beautiful face in front of him enjoying dinner, he's stuck under the erotic glare of a vending machine, half-unwrapped sandwich in his hand as a trashcan (or the rats) attempts to seduce him for the bread. leona sighed, running a hand through his hair. "i know tonight has been a disaster-"

"hey. i got to spend the whole day with you. i call that a success."

he pauses mid-sentence, green eyes bright in the dark flickering at you. despite everything, you were smiling, smiling like you weren’t sitting in wet clothes eating the saddest meal of your life (or his).

leona's eye twitched as you chuckled. "you got soaked, starved, and scammed out of a good time." he points out dryly, raising an eyebrow as you inch closer to him.

"and yet, i still had fun," you shot back. "guess that says more about the company than the plans." leona huffs at that, looking away, but he knew you caught the way his ears twitched, the way his lips almost curled into a smirk.

"you're such a fucking sap, [name]."

"and yet, here you are, still sitting with me. still sharing your shitty sandwich with me."

"tch." leona takes a quick bite of his sandwich as you look at him in mock horror. smirking, he nudges the remaining bit towards you. "c’mere. if we’re stuck eating garbage, might as well share."

maybe today hadn’t gone the way he planned. but as you laughed beside him, he figured- yeah. it hadn’t been that bad.

"but we still get to cuddle in your bed, right?"

thanks for spinning aivy here's the valentine fic over a month late ;-; also i loved the artwork >:( HOW DARE YOU DO THAT TO ME/lh IM SO HAPPY IT HELPED YOU || 533 words

[jinuaei]

jacking off must be impossible if your crush is soundwave. constantly worried that he might notice your doing it at the moment. especially because your perverted self keeps imagining weird highly detailed faces of your communication officer! it's alright, you're probably just being too paranoid. sure he can read people's mind but there is no way he'd zeroing in on you when you're stroking your shit.

but oh little do you know... he's literally the reason why. given the chance, soundwave might just indulge and do something while you do it. wink wonk

anyways runs and explodes your blog is a blessing, ive been hungry for yandere transformers stuff for so long 🗣️

Accidental (knowing Soundwave, it's probably not an accident) voyeurism through telepathy and his cameras would go hard!!!! I think this is also considered mutual masturbation?

Warning: MDNI

Imagine finally having private time after a whole day of those fantasies and though those thoughts are now weirdly quiet, you still couldn't help but let out all those pent up energy in your private quarters. Somehow, you find that your fantasies aren't as detailed as when you are in public. While the current images you conjure up are quite good, it lacks the clearness and hotness that it usually has.

Well yeah it's embarrassing to be doing this since you know... that's your boss kind of but you've been soooo pent up and decency went out the window the moment you laid down on your berth.

That's how Soundwave finds out you are playing with yourself, your frustrated thoughts echoing through his mind. He understands it's creepy that he has a direct line to your mind but... nobody has to know.

He almost destroys his console by gripping on it for dear life when he finds out you are coming up with your own fantasies on your own, without his input. He could feel his panel threatening to bust open when he realized you are now actively thinking about him. Him!

Another clink of his spike against his panel was a sign to let all the cassettes out of his office for his own private time. As soon as all of them left, he's rushing to open all the camera feeds he has in your room, even those that are not mandated. He has all sorts of angles, but his favourite ones are the top down view of you, and the one where your hips are facing him.

He is so quick to open his panels and expose his spike and valve to the cold air once the feed focuses on you touching yourself. Still, he can hear your frustration at how lacking your imagination is. He takes that as a sign to hijack your thoughts and project his own fantasies to mix with yours. Soundwave could visibly see you sigh in relief as soon as his thoughts mingle with yours.

Both of your minds battle for dominance as you try to steer your fantasy in one direction but Soundwave has other plans. But that plan went out the window as you growled in horny anger when the images didn't go in the direction you wanted. It took Soundwave a short while to follow through with what you want but he let himself be dragged by you and he can't lie, he quite likes it when you take control.

He doubled over his console when your fake? self pushed him down and settled on top of his faceplate. He drools behind his mask when he realizes what you wanted him to do, and in record time he was on you, licking and sucking your genitals. His spike catches the edge of the console as he grinds himself on it, desperate for friction as he keeps his glossa and intake on you. It took you yanking his helm off to realize that you already came and is now twitching in overstimulation, he whimpers when he couldn’t feel you on his intake anymore. But that whimper turned into a gasp when you moved down to his leaky spike. 

He finally kneels when he feels himself enter you, his servo’s working overtime when you bounce on top of him, trying to time his strokes to your movement. Warning signs pop up in front of him about overheating and possible shutdown but he immediately closes it to look up at the camera feed to you entering yourself over and over with your back arched. 

His optics rolls back once he could feel himself on the brink of overload and your hole twitching and he begs to himself and Primus that he could delay his overload until you do so you both could climax at the same time. It’s impossible not to whimper when he sees you move faster and faster while he tries so hard not to spill himself as he strokes as fast as you are. His prayers are finally answered when he hears you moan loudly, and that was enough for him to overload right then and there, shutting down as the pleasure took over him.

The next thing he knows as his optics are booted up is him on his knees, cheek pressed against the console covered in his slobber, mask gone. His servos are slick with his lubricant but he ignores it to look at the screen in front of him. You are now asleep, satisfied by your release.

While he cleans up himself, he thinks about upping the visions so this would happen more often. 

[rastronomicals]

7:13 AM EDT July 10, 2024:

The Chob - "We're Pretty Quick" From the Compilation album   Teenage Shutdown Vol. 4 : I'm A No-Count (October 6, 1998)

Last song scrobbled from iTunes at Last.fm

From the semi-notorious series of compilations chronicling 60's garage.

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