#gift guide 2017

[bitchesgetriches]

{ MASTERPOST } Everything You Need to Know about Saving Money and Being Frugal

We’re all in this together. Don’t give up.

On food and groceries:

How to Shop for Groceries like a Boss

Why Name Brand Products Are Beneath You: The Honor and Glory of Buying Generic

If You Don’t Eat Leftovers I Don’t Even Want to Know You

You Are above Bottled Water, You Elegant Land Mermaid

You Should Learn To Cook. Here’s Why.

On entertainment and socializing:

The Frugal Introvert’s Guide to the Weekend

7 Totally Reasonable Ways To Save Money on Cheap Entertainment 

Take Pride in Being a Cheap Date

The Library Is a Magical Place and You Should Fucking Go There

Your Library Lets You Stream Audiobooks and eBooks FOR FREEEEEEE!

What’s the Effect of Social Media on Your Finances?

You Won’t Regret Your Frugal 20s

On health:

How to Pay Hospital Bills When You’re Flat Broke

Run With Me if You Want to Save: How Exercising Will Save You Money

Our Master List of 100% Free Mental Health Self-Care Tactics

Why You Probably Don’t Need That Gym Membership

How to Get DIRT CHEAP Pet Medication, Without a Prescription 

On other big expenses:

Businesses Will Happily Give You HUGE Discounts if You Ask This Magic Question

Understand the Hidden Costs of Travel and Avoid Them Like the Plague

Other People’s Weddings Don’t Have to Make You Broke

You Deserve Cheap, Fake Jewelry… Just Like Coco Chanel

3 Times I Was Damn Grateful for My Emergency Fund (and Side Income) 

When (and How) to Try Refinancing or Consolidating Student Loans

The Real Story of How I Paid Off My Mortgage Early in 4 Years 

Season 2, Episode 2: “I’m Not Ready to Buy a House—But How Do I *Get Ready* to Get Ready?”

The Most Impactful Financial Decision I’ve Ever Made… and Why I Don’t Recommend It

On buying secondhand and trading:

Almost Everything Can Be Purchased Secondhand

I Am a Craigslist Samurai and so Can You: How to Sell Used Stuff Online

The Delicate Art of the Friend Trade

On giving gifts and charitable donations:

How Can I Tame My Family’s Crazy Gift-Giving Expectations?

In Defense of Shameless Regifting

Make Sure Your Donations Have the Biggest Impact by Ruthlessly Judging Charities

The Anti-Consumerist Gift Guide: I Have No Gift to Bring, Pa Rum Pa Pum Pum

How to Spot a Charitable Scam

Ask the Bitches: How Do I Say “No” When a Loved One Asks for Money… Again? 

On resisting temptation:

How to Insulate Yourself From Advertisements

Making Decisions Under Stress: The Siren Song of Chocolate Cake

The Magically Frugal Power of Patience

6 Proven Tactics for Avoiding Emotional Impulse Spending

On minimalism and buying less:

Don’t Spend Money on Shit You Don’t Like, Fool

Everything I Know About Minimalism I Learned from the Zombie Apocalypse

Slay Your Financial Vampires

The Subscription Box Craze and the Mindlessness of Wasteful Spending

On saving money:

How To Start Small by Saving Small

Not Every Savings Account Is Created Equal

The Unexpected Benefits (and Downsides) of Money Challenges

Budgets Don’t Work for Everyone—Try the Spending Tracker System Instead

From HYSAs to CDs, Here’s How to Level Up Your Financial Savings

Season 2, Episode 10: “Which Is Smarter: Getting a Loan? or Saving up to Pay Cash?”

The Magic of Unclaimed Property: How I Made $1,900 in 10 Minutes by Being a Disorganized Mess

We will periodically update this list with newer articles. And by “periodically” I mean “when we remember that it’s something we forgot to do for four months.”

Bitches Get Riches: setting realistic expectations since 2017!

Start saving right heckin’ now!

If you want to start small with your savings, consider signing up for an Acorns account! They round up your every purchase to the nearest dollar and save and invest the change for you. We like them so much we’ve generously allowed them to sponsor us with this affiliate link:

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[minispidey]

Unclaimed Wedding Vows.

Duke James 'Logan' Howlett x f!reader CHAPTER ONE: THE LADY'S DILEMMA

warnings: besides me being extra descriptive, none. Leclaire is just a random last name for reader's family, and isn't coded as any race. OLD MAN LOGAN!

summary: A new season has dawned for you, Lady Leclaire, and this time, the stakes are higher. Your father is encouraging you to seek out a suitor, a contrast to the previous season when you made your debut but remained a mere spectator, and avoided the social whirl around you. This year, none of the debutants have managed to capture the queen's eye... that is, until the arrival of Duke James Howlett, who has unexpectedly entered the market. His entrance has changed the dynamics of the season entirely, bringing in whispers of intrigue and the promise of romance.

word count: 4.1k no beta we dying like logan 2017

series masterlist.

The Queen is no stranger to the drama and heartache that come with reluctant or unfortunate brides and grooms—after all, her children often create quite the spectacle. The quest for the perfect match is a thrilling dilemma shared by every woman, even the Queen herself. Beneath the enchanting melodies of the court, a buzz of urgency filled the air as mothers exchanged whispers, each feeling the weight of competition from the newcomers. With every new lady, the stakes soared higher, and the chances for their daughters to secure a dazzling match grew ever slimmer.

All the mamas, except for yours, panicked. You stood among the other women after being cooped up for the entire season. This time, you felt trapped, as your father had finally returned home to guide you.

You watched intently as each young lady glided toward the Queen, curtsying with grace and poise, only to be waved away almost instantly. The Queen, seated regally on her throne, appeared disinterested, her eyes flickering over the newcomers without a hint of curiosity or admiration. Each presentation seemed to blend into the next, as though she were trapped in a routine, her expression one of deep ennui. It was clear she had encountered countless hopefuls before, and they were nothing more than fleeting shadows in her world.

"And I assume you didn't have the opportunity to introduce yourself to the Queen during the last season?" your father inquired, his gaze fixed intently on the unfolding presentation.

You released a quiet exhale. "I did not."

"Perhaps it is not too late to gain her blessing then."

You shut your eyes tightly, yearning for the comforting embrace of your soft blankets, wrapped securely in the sanctuary of your bedroom. The dim light of the suffocating room pressed in on you, making every breath feel heavy and labored. Even the tiny, cramped space beneath a table offered a sense of solace, an escape from the atmosphere that surrounded you.

"I believe I do not need the Queen's blessing to gain a husband." You opened your eyes and met the gaze of the men across the room, all ogling you and vying for your attention.

"But it certainly would help."

"Father." As you turned your head to meet his gaze, he gently pressed two fingers against your cheek, a firm yet tender gesture that redirected your focus back to the Queen. The movement felt like a subtle command, leaving you with a sense of unease.

Everyone knew Lord Leclaire’s sweet but spoiled daughter. You were the cherished only child of his first love, a woman whose memory lingered like a delicate perfume throughout the halls. As the sole offspring of a father who mourned a lost love, you basked in the benefits that came with being the only child of a wealthy widower. One of the most significant perks was the freedom to indulge in every whim, as your father poured his affection and resources solely into you, ensuring that your every desire was met with lavish gifts and endless attention.

Deep down, you understood that you were worthy of nothing less than the finest luxuries.

You favored silk that cascaded softly against your skin over any mere satin; you would always choose a decadent cake, rich with layers of flavor, instead of a simple slice of bread. Lace trim, with its intricate beauty, was your preference over the ordinary ribbons that could never capture the same elegance.

It is no different for your future husband. While your father and governess might worry that your high standards would scare men away, the reality is quite the contrary. Instead of feeling intimidated, they find themselves irresistibly drawn to you, captivated by the magnetic allure that lies behind your icy gaze. Even with the cool, distant expression on your features, it only seems to heighten their curiosity and determination, making them yearn to uncover the warmth that they sense lies beneath.

You chose to disregard the men around you, even those who struggled to position themselves beside you. Each one of them was aware of your allure, for you were undeniably the most desirable woman in the room.

Your gaze was clear, leaving no doubt that you knew exactly what you wanted.

The ideal husband embodies a man of immense respect and admiration within his community, someone whose character and achievements inspire others. He possesses a substantial income that not only assures financial stability but also enables a luxurious lifestyle adorned with beautiful estates and properties. Above all, he shall be someone with whom you share a deep emotional connection, a person who ignites your heart and soul, making you genuinely fall in love.

Even in tough times, your heart stayed open to romance, a belief instilled by your parents' words on love's power. They taught you that every love story holds magic, so you refused to settle for less than your ideals. The thought of growing old alone felt better than being with someone who didn’t meet your high standards for love.

Some mamas convince their daughters to settle for what they can have, and luckily (or unluckily), your mother had passed away so she had no say in who you would marry. But if she were alive, she would encourage you to keep searching for the one.

You sat in front of your dressing table as your father delicately placed down each one of the gifts he bought for you on your soft carpeted floor. All the boxes were wrapped with bright paper and ribbons that shone under soft light.

You absent-mindedly played with a chest filled with a variety of trinkets: delicate porcelain figurines of cats, shimmering glass beads, and rusty old coins, each speaking of far-off places.

"That presentation was a disaster, if I may say so, Father," you remarked. "The Queen seemed unsatisfied and I feel very bad for those young ladies involved."

"Don't worry, my dear. All the young ladies will have another opportunity to flatter the Queen tonight when she hosts her ball," your father said softly, a gentle smile spreading across his face.

He put a slice of cake in front of you, the scent of vanilla and frosting wafting up to greet your senses. "I just brought it home this afternoon. It seemed to be quite the hit at the bakery."

"Even so, the Queen is fussy. She knows exactly what she wants and exactly what she deserves." And you accepted a slice of cake from him, bit into it, and he made no allowance for such an unladylike manner.

"She knows her choice cannot be just a simple lady—someone who can proudly yet modestly reveal she is Her Majesty's favorite, embodying every trait a lady possesses or desires."

You stood up from your mirror and stepped out onto the balcony. The breeze tousled your hair while the sun danced across your skin. Your presence startled a cluster of doves on the railings, who flew away in a flurry of white feathers.

"Perhaps I have a chance..."

Your father smiled, thinking that you would seek the favor of the Queen and then secure a place of honor in her court. However, as he smiled at you with that gleam of expectation in his eyes, your thoughts went elsewhere. You couldn't help but think that if the Queen wielded the power to select her favored ones, then surely you too could find a husband who meets your expectations— someone who embodies those qualities you want and actually deserves your heart.

Far from the Leclaire house, a lavish carriage adorned with intricate gold detailing, and luxurious silk stopped in front of the Queen's grand palace. The arrival drew the eyes of the servants peering from the ornate windows, their breaths caught in awe as the distinguished Duke Howlett stepped out. His walk was far from graceful, marked by a heavy, almost cumbersome stride; yet, with every step he took, he demanded the whole world’s attention, as if the very air shifted at his presence.

The Queen sat on her throne, her heart fluttering with anticipation for her friend’s arrival. She clapped her hands twice, signaling the musicians to stop. As silence enveloped the grand hall, she took a deep breath, savoring the stillness before her friend's entrance.

The elderly man slowly stepped into the room, his soft curled silver hair glinting softly in the light as he bowed his head, a gesture of respect. A sharp jolt of pain surged through his back, causing him to stifle a groan that escaped his lips. His frame remained strong, but telltale signs of age were etched on his skin, and shaking his hands revealed fragility in his bones.

"Is that as low as you can go, old man?" the Queen raised an eyebrow.

The Duke exhaled softly, a hint of relief washing over him as he straightened his posture, pulling his shoulders back. "If I could humble myself any further, Your Majesty," he said with a wry smile, "I would find myself six feet under."

"Logan! My dearest friend, why have you come?" A chuckle escaped the Queen. "I suppose you will be joining the gentlemen this season to search for a bride. You are getting, oh so very old."

With a long sigh, he nodded. "And you would be right."

The Queen drops her cup of tea and her eyes are blown wide open. "Are you trying to kill me? I could have you executed for attempting to do so." she laughed loudly.

"I am the last Howlett. If I want to continue my family name, I need a wife to bear my children." Logan coughed into a handkerchief before quickly composing himself. "Any lady will do, as long as she won't disturb me."

"Nonsense!" the Queen exclaimed, clapping her hands loudly and surprising her ladies, who were busy cleaning up the spilled tea and the broken cup. "You are a highly respected man. A Duke! Do you think I would allow you to marry a simple lady? You shall marry my diamond!"

"While Her Majesty is very kind, I would prefer not to spend too much time searching."

"I know I am very kind," the Queen huffed. "For I would be the one spending too much time looking— I was not even planning on looking for one. You are very welcome."

"I am not very selective, Your Majesty. Any lady will suffice." The Duke shook his head.

"Then you should have married a maid," the Queen said, cutting off the Duke's response with a raised hand. "I do not tolerate objections. I am doing you a favor, and it is an insult to refuse a gift. As your most humble and loyal friend, I cannot accept your decision to marry merely any lady."

From a tender age, the Duke was aware of the dynamics that surrounded individuals of high status. Placed in the role of Duke early in life, he quickly became the center of attention, a figure that drew gaze and admiration from all. At lavish gatherings, young ladies would shamelessly fight for his attention, their motives often far from innocent. Such experiences led him to retreat from the social scene altogether, burying himself in the labyrinthine of his duties.

Years passed since then, and while he amassed vast wealth and commanded respect, the relentless march of time had etched deeper lines into his visage, a testament to his toil. In his pursuit of success, the concept of legacy slipped through his fingers like sand. The urgency of fatherhood, the need to secure a successor to inherit the family fortune and the sprawling estates, faded into the background, overshadowed by the relentless demands of his work.

He retraced his steps through the grand palace hallways, made elegant with tapestries and chandeliers that spoke of his family's rich history. The scent of polished wood lingered in the air as he entered his carriage.

As the carriage rolled through the bustling streets of London, he gazed out at the vibrant city. He was heading to his estate—a property that had been neglected from his infrequent visits. Despite its silence and overgrown gardens, he had ensured everything was prepared, as this time he sought a bride.

The estate needed to be more than just a residence; it had to convey wealth and status, a place where a future wife could envision a life of comfort and elegance. As he approached the imposing estate between tall trees and trimmed hedges, a shiver ran down his spine.

Change loomed over him like a storm cloud, heavy and foreboding. Everyone knew that the Duke didn't take kindly to anything that came between himself and his well-planned world.

In a dazzling celebration marking the start of the season, the Queen organized a magnificent ball.

The grand ballroom was decked with sparkling chandeliers, and the air carried the sweet melodies of an orchestra that enticed everyone to dance. The Queen initially wanted not to attend her ball at all. Her change of mind came when there was the unexpected arrival of Duke James Howlett - a man of nobility seeking a worthy Duchess. His presence sparked great commotion, forcing the Queen to reverse her decision and plunge deep into the celebration before her. Everyone moved graciously in unity across the polished floor within the grand ballroom while soft, sweet melodies filtered in the air from the orchestra, wrapping around each of the elegantly attired couples and bouncing off the ceiling lined with sparkling chandeliers.

Amidst the vibrant gathering, you stood there elegantly commanding the room's attention. The soft murmur of admiration reverberated in the air as captivated gazes fell upon you like the breaking of the clouds. Your beauty shone with an enchanting glow and drew intrigued whispers from those around you. The debutantes, dressed in their finest, exchanged glances, all in agreement that you were the epitome of allure, the most desirable woman present.

The men ogled, all desiring you— the impossible. You glanced at them with a sharp look in your eye, ready to pounce and overpower those who dared to come too close. Intimidation ran through the veins of the LeClaire family, a legacy passed down through generations as an artful weapon to draw out the right partner. Your father never quite mastered it, but you had it in spades.

A coarse hand jerked you against the warmth of a muscular body. You gasped sharply, your breath catching as crimson wine splattered across your silk dress, the bright stain blooming like a dark flower against the delicate fabric. Turning to face the source of this unexpected collision, you saw the culprit—a flustered figure retreating into the collar of his tailored suit, his cheeks flushed with embarrassment.

Now you are looking at the rough, ancient man that pulled you against his chest. For a moment you were lost in the green depth of his eyes: the color of a rain-soaked forest. But then, with a sharp jolt, you feel yourself pulling away from his grasp, looking back to the deep red stain on your dress.

"This is silk-" you hissed, your voice laced with barely controlled anger that threatened to bubble over at any moment, like a pot that is about to boil over. Every fiber of your body was aflame with fury as you clutched the fabric, feeling the smooth texture slip through your fingers, a stark contrast to the storm brewing within you.

Before you can vent your pent-up anger, a voice cuts in on you, surprising you by its calmness. "On behalf of the gentleman, I profoundly apologize, my lady," the old man says, his face showing a hint of concern. His eyes meet yours for a moment before he adds, "I will summon a servant immediately to assist you."

His voice slowly relieved the fiery tension within your heart. You took a deep breath, feeling centered as he continued: "I accept your apology," you responded with an elegant curtsy as if to hold off the weight of the moment. "However, I feel I should retire for the night."

You watch as he opens his mouth, in probable protest, and you spin on your heel, cutting him off before a single word escaped his lips. The atmosphere in the room grew stressful, as if it was squeezing the air from your lungs.

Every glance is like a sharp dart, piercing through you, and one can almost hear the stifled giggles that lie just under the surface. The picture remains in your head: this once-towering ice princess, now reduced to become the target of their teasing, a crimson wine stain spreading like an unwanted prophecy across her elegant dress, an emblem of the embarrassment from the evening.

You stepped warily through the garden, surrounded by the sweet scent of flowers when suddenly a firm hand gripped your wrist.

You turned around quickly with that swift pull and lost your airy handkerchief. As you regained your balance, you looked up at the grizzled old man, his face a weathered map of worry. "My lady," he said, his voice gravelly yet warm, "please don't go just because a gentleman has clumsily spilled a drink upon your dress."

"I've never been one to enjoy parties," you said, your voice almost whispering above the din of conversation around you. You looked down at the dark red wine stain that seemed to mar the elegant weave of your dress. Your sigh was heavy as you continued, "I want only to go home. This accident is just the right reason to slip away."

He bows his head once more as an apology.

As you moved out of the grand palace, the old man lifted his head, and you caught a glimpse of your eyes for a moment as you passed. You half-turned, nodding towards your footman, who stood there just beyond the entrance. At your signal, he ran off, the fine weave of his livery rustling a little as he hastened to summon the carriage.

The afternoon light seeps through the curtains, and your eyes linger on the deep red stains your dress still bears from last night. Running your hand absent-mindedly over the silk, you hear the creak of the door as your maids enter the room.

"My lady," one of the called you, her voice full of excitement. "A package has arrived for you."

They cautiously approached your bed, where a huge light blue box was lying there. It was shrouded in beautiful wrappings, the expensive and opulent silk ribbon beautifully cascading over it. This sight made you curious; hence, you drew nearer to it.

"Who is it from?" Your fingers played gently with the smooth ribbon that bordered the box, feeling its softness as you waited for the surprise inside.

"We cannot say for sure, my lady," the maid said, furrowing her brow with worry. "What are we to do with it? Are we to throw it away?"

"No, I assure you, it is alright." you said, fingers twitching slightly as you fumbled to loosen the flimsy ribbon securing the tie. You gave it a gentle tug, unfolding the layers of paper under your fingers like delicate silken petals.

As you opened the box with utmost care, your gaze fell on a letter in it. The letter had a deep red wax for its seal, and this was stamped with an intricately designed crest that instantly took your breath away. This was undoubtedly a Duke's crest. A feeling of awe swept over you as you softly gasped and stood up in shock. HOWLETT.

"I don't believe it."

You ran back, your breath coming up in expectation as you unfolded the thin tissue paper that covered an amazing sight.

Lying before you was a gown unlike any you had ever seen—a vision of beauty and majesty. The silk shone dimly in the light, and its texture spoke of the skill of the finest artisans in the land. Your heart races for the reality of what actually had happened at the ball the other night: a real apology at the hands of a duke— and this beautiful gown. It's too ridiculous to think that he— the duke would hand to you something this private for you.

Was he scouting you as a potential Duchess?

You could hardly suppress an excited squeal as you sent your maids off, hoping for a few minutes to yourself. Holding the dress up against your chest, you stared at your reflection in the mirror, mesmerized by its beauty. Reaching your bed, you snatched the letter.

As you read the Duke's letter that accompanied the dress, newspapers fluttered all over town with their front pages splashed with the face of Duke James Howlett. His face was everywhere—the center of attention since last night's ball when whispers and glances revealed he was after a wife to elevate to duchess status.

Despite his age, the mamas eagerly nudged their debutantes to charm the Duke. After all, they had high hopes for a prestigious match in high society.

Every lady in town eagerly flocked to the modiste, set on getting new exquisite gowns that would dazzle the Duke at the upcoming ball. Silks and satins fluttered in the air as they envisioned the moment he would notice their carefully crafted attire. Meanwhile, the Duke, unaware of the flurry he inspired, focused on matters far different from the shimmering dresses vying for his attention.

Like when he received the dress he gave you.

"What is this?" he said raising his eyebrow, curiosity dancing across his eyes as he observed the box that his servant held in both hands, the elegant packaging soft to the touch, a deep light blue, and silky ribbon tied across it shining under the warm light of the room. It was that gift he had picked up for you, and couldn't help but wonder at what your reaction had been when you opened it.

He slowly raises the lid of the box.

Inside, the dress lies perfectly folded in delicate fabric. Alongside it is a letter, its envelope decorated with an elegant wax seal. As he tears it open, a wave of fragrance envelops him, the sweet, unmistakable scent of fresh roses wafting through the air and stirring memories within him of when he held you close. He opens the letter, revealing your beautiful handwriting, each stroke flowing across the page.

Dearest Duke Howlett,

I hope this letter finds you in good spirits. I write to you with a heavy heart regarding the exquisite silk dress you so graciously gifted me.

As you may remember from last night’s event, a man accidentally spilled wine on the dress. Despite my best efforts to remedy the situation, the stain has proven stubborn.

Because of this, I think it’s best to return the dress to you. It deserves to be loved and worn as you intended. I am very sad to part with such a lovely piece, which brought me so much happiness.

Moreover, I find myself at a loss for words, as I cannot comprehend why a man of your esteemed stature would choose to bestow such an exquisite gown upon someone like myself. I am simply a lady, while you are a Duke. If my father were to witness this generous gesture, he might very well assume that you were proposing—a notion that brings a flush to my cheeks.

I deeply appreciate your kindness and generosity, and I hope to have the opportunity to discuss this matter further, perhaps with a dance.

With warmest regards...

He finally learns your name, and as he reads it repeatedly. He softly whispers it to himself, allowing the syllables to linger in the air. A warm ember ignites in Logan’s chest, a stirring sensation that could be mistaken for something as simple as inflammation. Yet, deep down, he senses it might also be the dawning realization that he may have discovered a potential match—perhaps a true Duchess worthy of his affections.

tag list (open!) btw i cried when yall asked to be tagged ilysm: @dragovegogrimborn @manifester3 @buhitosueco @saltedcoffeescotch @angeiulst @moonpascal @v13nx @cleverfestivalconnoisseur @rexmeshlasblog @disneyprincessbuffyannesummers @trickstersteve @tighrenicotine @luv4kook @steviebbboi @eldauvs @cards-and-daggers @hidden-behind-the-fourth-wall @awsome262338 @lustdotlove @jax-the-oregonian @misscrissfemmefatale @hereforthehitsbaby @lightupsketchersperson @st4rrlighttt @cherrypieyourface @blossoming-hotch @freythecrazyfae @sweetenerobert (shout out to robert for cheering me on while I wrote this with one hand and a dictionary in the other)

[requiemforthepoets]

you’re the closest to heaven that i’ll ever be

ONE - BETWEEN WORLDS

𖤓 𝒔𝒆𝒓𝒊𝒆𝒔 𝒎𝒂𝒔𝒕𝒆𝒓𝒍𝒊𝒔𝒕 | 𝒑𝒍𝒂𝒚𝒍𝒊𝒔𝒕 | 𝒑𝒂𝒓𝒕 𝒕𝒘𝒐 ☽

PAIRINGS: charles leclerc x celestial!reader

SUMMARY: charles was never meant to see you—no human beings can see you except for those souls you have to guide to the afterlife. but somehow, charles did, and ever since he did, he had been very persistent to catch you, and when he finally had you in his line of sight, you decided to disappear on him once again.

REMINDERS: this is purely fiction, the way how the character is portrayed in my story does not reflect the person that is portraying my character in real life. always separate fiction from reality, and do not repost or copy my work in any way.

WARNINGS: bible angel names references, some people may find this fic offensive, concept of divine beings and heaven & life and death, no use of y/n, angels and devils, mentions of papa leclerc (beginning is set in 2017) and jules bianchi, fluff, falling (literally & figuratively) in love, named side characters, angst but with a happy ending, purely written fic, a little but of world building (concepts), mentions of death, bad/evil people, cursing, not proofread, and typos.

WORD COUNT: 6k

AUTHOR’S NOTE: this is the first part of the series! again, i would like to reiterate, this fic may not be some people’s cup of tea, if you don’t like it, don’t read it. there will be a bunch of fast forward, but don’t worry, i’ll include everything as much as possible so that you will still be able to follow through. i wanted to limit the series to five parts, so each chapter will be lengthy. reblogs and comments are highly appreciated, and i hope that you’ll enjoy this first part!

As a Celestial, the warmth of human life and ache of human loss are always at a distance, intangible. Watching over humans and guiding them in unseen ways, you walk through the lives of people that are filled with laughter, sorrow, and strength. Your purpose is very clear, that is to help them transition from their earthly ties to the beyond. It was an endless cycle, yet you often marveled at the peculiarities of humans.

Beside you on many of these journeys is Gabriel, a fellow Celestial who, much like you, watches over humanity from afar. Though you and Gabriel guide people through their last moments, neither of you truly understand them, they are bound to the sensations you and Gabriel could not understand, things that you could never feel—touch, taste, the warmth of sunlight on their skin, and how humans held onto life fiercely. Their happiness and fears are a foreign concept, ideas that stir something within you and Gabriel, but will always remain incomprehensible without the senses the only humans possess.

2017

On an ordinary night by human standards, you had found yourself once again in Monaco, within the quiet sterility of a hospital room, where the soft hum of machines filled the room, a steady rhythm of life intertwined with impending loss. You knew, as you often do, that someone would soon pass—Hervé Leclerc, a man whose life was filled with passion for his family and his love for racing, lay fragile and silent on a hospital bed.

You stood nearby, unseen, feeling the quiet tension of the room, and watched as his family gathered around him. His wife, Pascale, sat at his side, holding his hand, her touch featherlight, as if she feared pressing too hard might shatter what little life remained in him. His three sons, Lorenzo, Charles, and Arthur, surrounded them, their eyes solemn yet determined, trying to be strong for their father and each other. As you waited, you felt Charles approach his father, bending down so only Hervé could hear him, and took a deep breath.

“Papa, I did it. I signed a contract to race in Formula 1 with Ferrari.” Charles softly murmured.

The statement hung heavy in the air, and you could sense the hope in Charles’ words—a gift, an offering of peace for his father in his final moments. Though you knew that it was not entirely the truth, you understood, in your own way, that it was a kindness, and an act of love. Hervé’s eyes remained closed, yet his breathing steadied, a faint smile curling on his lips. You knew that he had heard Charles.

Hervé’s spirit, though still connected to his mortal body, seemed to hover beside you, taking in the scene. He looked on, his gaze was soft and reverent as he watched his family, as if he was imprinting this final memory of them deep within his being. His presence was calm, accepting, and you felt like it was already time.

“Tell me,” you asked gently, stepping closer to him. “What was your favorite thing in life?”

You always ask this question to them, in their final moments, what their favorite thing in life has been. They would always recall something that is deeply personal, yet beyond your comprehension.

“My family,” Hervé answered as he looked at you, his ethereal form somehow both weary and joyful, his essence luminous even in the face of mortality.

“My sons, my wife. Watching them grow, finding their own passions, their own dreams…that was my greatest joy.” His gaze lingered on Charles, and you sensed an overwhelming pride emanating from him.

“I remember how Charles would always run into the house after a day of racing, his eyes filled with excitement. I could feel his dreams even then.” His voice trailed off as he was reliving those memories.

You just stood there beside him listening, absorbing his words, though the feelings themselves eluded you. Humans and their intricate emotions, it was like a puzzle with no answer. Your existence was outside the realm of these emotions, yet there was a beauty in his words, you glanced back at his family, sensing how they held Hervé’s life within their own, like a thread woven through each of them.

It was then that something had shifted. You felt the air grow thick, as if some unseen barrier dissolved, and turning, you saw Charles looking directly at you. His eyes were wide, face pale but intent, as if he was unsure of what he was seeing but could not look away. Humans were not supposed to see Celestials, they could only feel a faint brush of your presence, perhaps. But Charles’ eyes are fixed on you, gazing at you with a mixture of disbelief and wonder. You froze, unaccustomed to this kind of attention, as though he was staring into something beyond the grasp of reality.

“Charles?” Arthur’s voice had interrupted him, a gentle nudge that pulled Charles back, though his eye still lingered on you. “Why are you staring at the wall?” He asked Charles, glancing at your direction as well, but you knew that Arthur saw nothing there.

Charles hesitated, a brief flicker of uncertainty crossing his face. He looked at Arthur, then back at the space where you were standing, his lips parted, as though he was about to ask Arthur, too, could see you, but he held back. He was still clearly torn between questioning what he had just seen and dismissing it as a trick of the mind. With a sigh, he chose silence, giving his little brother a faint shake of his head, brushing it off. He turned his attention again back to where you had been standing, but you were already gone, as silent and unnoticed as the night.

But, at that exact moment, a part of you had wondered, could he have truly seen you? Could he have felt the faintest echo of your presence, of your purpose?

You drifted back to Gabriel with the faint impression of Charles’ gaze lingering in your own consciousness—a reminder that even in your unseen world, sometimes the divide between the humans and Celestials could be momentarily bridged.

2024

Seven years. Seven years had passed since that quiet night in the hospital, but that moment with Charles had lingered in your mind like an echo. Since then, you had found yourself drawn to him, but not in a way that disrupted your purpose as a Celestial, but with a curiosity that seemed to grow with each passing year.

You had watched him move from promise to reality, the white lie he had told his father on his deathbed eventually blossoming into truth. Just a few months after that night, Charles had signed his contract with Ferrari, the fulfillment of a lifelong dream, and in some inexplicable way, you felt as if you had been there to bear witness to it all. Each race, every success and setback, despite going through a lot, you found yourself watching over him, a silent guardian he would never know.

Today, you sat with Gabriel atop one of Monaco’s high-rise buildings, the sparkling Mediterranean stretching out before you, and the entire principality sprawled below like a living diorama. The streets buzzed with celebration as the 2024 Monaco Grand Prix had come to a close, and Charles had finally claimed his victory in his home race. It was a win seven years in the making, a win that is not just for himself, but for the memory of his father, his family, and Monaco itself.

From above, you could see him clearly amidst the sea of red Ferrari colors, arms raised in happiness, face radiant with the kind of happiness only humans are capable of. Right in the middle of the chaos, he ran towards his little brother, Arthur, engulfing him in a hug that spoke of shared dreams and sacrifices, of family and bonds invisible, but deeply felt.

You just watched them in silence, the sight stirring something in you that had been dormant for as long as you had existed. Charles’ embrace was firm, his grip grounding, there was nothing restrained or hesitant about it. You felt a pang of longing, a wish as faint as stardust, and without turning your gaze from what was happening below, you murmured to Gabriel.

“Gabriel,” you began. “Do you ever wonder what it feels like…to feel someone’s touch?” Gabriel just looked at you, his brow furrowing slightly, a rare expression of contemplation on his normally serene face.

“Touch?” He echoed, as if the concept was foreign, a thing only humans grasped. “I’ve thought of it, perhaps, but…it is a human sensation. One we’re not meant to experience.”

“But don’t you ever feel…curious?” You pressed, your gaze drifting from the celebration below to Gabriel’s face. “We guide them, witness their lives, but we never feel what they feel. We only see it.” You let out a soft sigh, though it held no breath, a habit you had picked up from your time observing humans.

“To feel someone’s hand, to know the warmth they carry within themselves. It seems as if it would make understanding them so much easier.” You added.

Gabriel was quiet for a moment, his gaze had softened when he turned to look at Charles and Arthur below, watching as they held each other in a tight embrace that was filled with laughter and unspoken love.

“Perhaps,” he said, in a thoughtful tone. “But our purpose is not to feel as they do. If we were to experience what they do, to carry their joys and burdens…wouldn’t that make our task harder? Wouldn’t we lose sight of our main purpose?”

“Maybe…” you trailed off, there was a note of hesitation coloring your words. “But at times like these, it’s hard not to wonder. To see the way they hold each other, as if through touch they share parts of themselves they can’t express in words, it feels like we’re missing something that is essential.”

Gabriel tilted his head, considering your words. “I do understand,” he said quietly, though there was a trace of doubt in his voice. “But we are Celestials. We exist beyond the limitations of human senses, we are meant to guide, not to partake.”

You turned back to the scene below, watching as Charles lifted his gaze to the sky, as if looking for someone, or something, that could share in his win. You imagined, for just a moment, what it would be like if he could see you there, perched above, watching him as you had all these years. What would he think, if he knew that something beyond human comprehension had been by his side, through each win, each loss.

“It’s strange,” you murmured, almost to yourself. “Even after all these years, after guiding so many, I still don’t understand why they hold onto each other so tightly. Why do they need these moments of closeness?”

Gabriel gave a gentle nod. “Perhaps that is the beauty of humanity. Their mortality gives weight to every touch, embrace, and word. They cling to these moments because they know that their time is finite,” he replied quietly. “For us, existence is boundless. But to them, it’s fleeting. They reach for each other because they know it won’t last.”

“What do you think it would be like, if he could feel our presence?” You asked. “If he knew we were here, watching over him.”

“He sensed you once,” he reminded you, as he gazed softly at you. “That alone was a gift, rare and precious. Perhaps that moment, as brief as it was, is enough. Enough to remind us that we are a part of their lives, even if they never know it.”

For a long while, you and Gabriel sat in silence, watching as Charles continued to celebrate, his family and team surrounding him, arms draped over each other’s shoulders, and their laughter echoing through the streets. Though you could never fully grasp the intricacies of their lives, in the moment, you felt a rare, almost painful longing, a sense that maybe there was something beautiful in being bound to the world as they were. Something in their fragility made them magnificent.

Meanwhile, for Charles, that night in 2017 would always remain etched in his memory, shadowing his every step like a faint, haunting whisper he could never quite shake. It was something he never really fully understood, something he never spoke of, not to Arthur, not to Lorenzo, and certainly not to her mother, Pascale. Charles had kept it buried in the recesses of his mind, an unexplainable experience he half-believed and half-dismissed, but that, no matter how hard he tried, wouldn’t let him go.

The moment he had seen you inside his father’s hospital room, his first instinct had been confusion. In a place so intimately reserved for family, for whispers of love and tearful goodbyes, you were a stranger, someone so unfamiliar standing quietly at the edge of the room. Your form was as clear as anyone else’s, not blurred or shadowed like a moment of illusion. Yet, what unsettled him the most was that no one else seemed to notice you.

At first, Charles told himself that it must have been the weight of the moment, his grief playing tricks on his mind. After all, in that fragile state, it would be easy to imagine things that were not there. He watched you out of the corner of his eye, cautiously, hoping to see you disappear, to prove that it had been just a figment of his imagination. But you stayed, your gaze resting softly on his father, with an almost reverent patience, and as the minutes stretched on, his conviction that he was truly seeing someone, is real.

The memory of your gaze, so steady and detached, left a strange impression on him. Charles found himself glancing at you repeatedly, his heart pounding as he tried to think about who or what you were. He wanted to ask you why you were there, how you had come un unnoticed, but something about your presence was ethereal, inexplicably untouchable. You didn’t seem bound by the rules of this world, as if you were simply just passing through, a visitor from some place beyond.

Then, Arthur’s voice had snapped him out of his trance, asking him why he was staring at the wall. Arthur’s words were practical, a rope that pulled him back to the room. Yet, the second he had turned back to look at you, you were already gone—just as quietly as you had arrived, leaving no trace behind, it was as though you had never been there at all.

Over the years, Charles tried to put that night behind him, brushing off the memory as a momentary lapse in judgment, a strange vision conjured by the heartbreak of losing his father. But even as time passed by, the memory of you still lingered. He felt you in many ways he could not describe, as if you existed in the peripheral spaces of his life, just out of reach, yet somehow undeniably real. Every so often, in the hushed stillness of a race night or in the lonely hours before dawn, he would sense something—an invisible presence, a faint familiarity. It was as though you were watching over him, an unseen guardian who drifted along with him from one country to another, from one track to another.

Sometimes, he thought he caught a glimpse of you, a brief, shadowy figure in the distance, a subtle hint of movement where there should have been none. Once, while preparing for a race in Silverstone, he was warming up in the garage when he thought he saw you standing by the edge of the track. His heart had leapt, his mind suddenly thrown back to that hospital room, but when he looked again, you were gone, leaving only the flicker of your image imprinted on his mind.

Even his teammate, Carlos, noticed too. There were times when Charles would falter mid-sentence, his gaze drifting as if he was seeing something beyond their conversation, beyond the present. Carlos would follow his line of sight, seeing nothing but an empty space, a shadow that Charles seemed inexplicably drawn to. He would often give Charles a curious look.

“Are you alright, mate?” Carlos asked, looking at him weirdly. Charles just shook it off, smiling tightly, and offering a quick nod. “Yeah, yeah. Just tired.”

It became a pattern that he could neither understand nor dismiss. The feeling of your presence was both comforting and unsettling, a reminder that he was somehow never truly alone, even in the depths of solitude. There moment he had questioned his own sanity, wondering if he was simply haunted by the memory of his father’s death clinging to something he could not let go. But no matter how hard he tried, he could not shake the feeling that you were real, that he had seen you.

At times, he would catch himself searching for you in the crowd, hoping for just one more glimpse. Charles wanted answers, an explanation that would either ground him in reality or confirm that he is not going crazy, that his life had crossed paths with something beyond the ordinary. But as the years went by, he learned to finally accept your presence as a quiet, unspoken truth, something woven into the fabric of his existence that he would never fully understand.

SINGAPORE GRAND PRIX

The Singapore Grand Prix has always been one of the most electrifying events of the season, the country is a home for night racing—a race that is held under the city’s dazzling night lights, set against a backdrop of towering skyscrapers, and a sea of spectators from different parts of the world. The vibrancy, palpable energy, it all felt foreign to you, like watching scenes play out on a distant plane of existence you could never fully enter.

This year, the circuit was alive as ever, buzzing with the energy of fans and flashing cameras, the constant pulse of music and chatter weaving into the humid tropical air. Charles was in his element, navigating the crowds and the chaos with the ease of someone who had grown accustomed to the demands of fame. But in the middle of the swirling mass of people, someone unusual had appeared, unnoticed by most but utterly unmistakable to him.

You hadn’t meant to be seen. For years, you had existed on the fringes of Charles’ life, watching from a distance. But something about Singapore piqued your curiosity. It was the sheer energy of it all—the press, fans, and the kaleidoscope of colors. For someone like Charles, who seemed perpetually surrounded by people and yet remained alone in many ways, you wanted to understand just a little more about the life he lived. So you wandered through the paddock, watching from the shadows, taking in the sights and sounds, studying the excitement in the faces of those who adored him.

Then, as if some force had finally decided that it was time. You had found yourself standing right in the open, in the midst of it all, no longer bound to the periphery. There you stood, calm and composed, while people streamed around you, their movements fast and chaotic, yet never once brushing against you.

Charles arrived shortly after, dressed in his Ferrari team uniform, stepping into the crowd as he made his way through. However, his steps began to slow down as he walked, and his focus shifted the moment he saw you, your figure stark against the colorful, shifting background. You stood perfectly still, framed by the buzzing energy around you, as if the world had momentarily paused just for you. You were dressed entirely in black—turtleneck, tailored trousers, sleek shoes, and a long trench coat that seemed to absorb light rather than reflect it—you appeared like a shadow against the vivid scene, an undeniable presence, a figure of quiet, captivating stillness. The Singaporean heat clung to everything and everyone, beads of sweat visible on even the most acclimated locals, but you felt none of it.

For a moment, Charles thought his mind was playing tricks on him again. He blinked numerous times, expecting you to vanish, for your presence to disappear into the crowd as it had so many times before. But this time, you didn’t fade. You just stood there, watching him with a calm, knowing gaze that seemed to pierce through the noise of the crowd. His breath was caught in throat, and he almost faltered in his step. You were no longer a flicker in his peripheral vision, no longer a question lingering at the edge of his mind. You were unmistakably there, standing directly in his line of sight, unyielding and unfazed by the swirl of people passing around you.

Your gaze met his, and in that instant, he felt the weight of something intense, a connection that defied explanation. It felt like it was a bridge that seemed to span years and memories, drawing him back to that hospital room in 2017. Charles remembered your face so vividly, and here you were, the same mysterious figure who had watched over his father in his final moments. He knew instinctively that you were not something ordinary, everything about you, from the calm in your expression to the impossible composure you held, marked you as something beyond human.

Charles could feel his heartbeat pounding in his ears, a strange mixture of awe and disbelief surging through him. He wanted to reach out to you, speak to you, but the weight of the moment made it very impossible. The last thing he wanted was to draw attention, especially from the media and fans who circled around him, unaware of the encounter unfolding before them. He didn’t want to appear crazy, pausing in the middle of the crowd to address a person that, for all he knew, only he could see. So he kept his expression carefully neutral, his gaze lingering on you as he moved forward with deliberate steps, passing just a few feet away from where you stood.

As he brushed by, he felt a soft, cool gust of wind graze his shoulder—a breeze that did not seem to belong in the humid heat of the Singapore air. It was as if your presence had left a subtle mark on him, an unspoken reminder that this moment was real, that you were real. Charles continued walking, the weight of your gaze lingering on his skin, the connection between you evident as he moved away. His mind whirled with so many questions, with the need for answers that he had long since buried but that now surged back with renewed urgency.

Who are you?

What were you?

Why did you seem to appear only at the most pivotal moments of his life, watching him with a calm that suggested knowledge he could barely fathom?

But as he glanced back over his shoulder to look at you one more time, you remained exactly where you were, standing with your hands casually tucked into the pockets of your coat, observing Charles with the same quiet intensity. He didn’t need words to understand that, somehow, you were there for him, that whatever role you played in his life was not a figment of his imagination but something far more profound. It was as if, by some cosmic design, you had been an integral part of his life, even if he could not understand why.

It was both terrifying and strangely comforting for Charles, knowing that you were there, connected to his life in ways he could not even explain. Though he continued to walk away, blending back into the crowd, he could still feel your presence, like a steady anchor amidst the chaos of his world.

The night had already fallen over Singapore, casting a warm, beautiful golden haze over the circuit as the city lights reflected off every glass surface, every curve in the architecture. The air still held the weight of the humid day, though there was a subtle breeze stirring now, drifting through the emptiness of spaces high above the throngs below. This was where you and Gabriel often met, removed from the world you observed, yet close enough to feel its pulse.

You sat together on a ledge that overlooked the bright labyrinth of the track, each car flickering past like the streaks of light, their paths twisting through the city like a thread woven into the heart of human life. Gabriel sat beside you, posture relaxed, gaze steady on the crowds moving below. He had a serene presence about him, as all Celestial did, though his was tempered by a slight curiosity, a kindred spirit in your shared wonder at the lives below, though he carried the wisdom of countless lifetimes.

“Today…” you began, breaking the silence between the two of you. “I saw him again. Charles.”

“And this time…he really saw me. Not just a passing glance, not a flicker. He truly saw me, Gabriel. It was different.” You added.

The words felt very strange in the open air, as though they held a weight that went beyond their sound. Gabriel’s gaze turned towards you, a subtle light of interest in his eyes, nodding as though encouraging you to continue, so you tried to put it into words that felt almost too elusive to capture.

“When I first saw him years ago, in the hospital room, I thought that maybe he only sensed me. It’s not unusual—though I know that some humans have that…intuition. They feel our presence, but they never truly see us,” you paused, searching for the words.

“But this was different. I was standing right in front of him, in the open, and he looked at me as if…as if he recognized me. As if he has always known I was there, even though we’re not supposed to be seen. It’s as if there’s a connection between us—one I can’t fully explain.” You continued.

Gabriel’s expression softened with understanding, a hint of knowing in his gaze. He looked out over the city, his voice a low murmur that held the weight of something ancient.

“Sometimes,” he began. “There are rare occasions when certain humans have a heightened sensitivity. They can feel what others cannot, see what lies just beyond the veil of human sight. They can perceive glimpses of our world, though they never fully understand it.”

You considered his words, recalling the many faces of humans who had felt your presence, brief shivers down their spine, faint chill in the air. “But this doesn’t feel like that,” you said softly. “This isn’t just intuition. It’s more than that…I—I think he truly sees me. As if I'm as real to him as any other person in his life.”

Gabriel met your gaze, his eyes thoughtful. “There are many possibilities,” he said, his voice holding a trace of reverence. “It could be that Charles was born with a rare gift, a unique soul attuned to the spiritual realm. Sometimes, humans like him are able to see beyond what others can, though they seldom realize it. Perhaps, he was always meant to see you, even if he doesn’t understand why.”

“But why him? Of all people, why would I form this…this kind of connection with him?” You leaned forward, elbows resting on your knees, feeling a mix of wonder and bewilderment.

“Maybe it isn’t for us to know,” Gabriel replied gently, his gaze soft with empathy. “But there’s another possibility.” His tone grew contemplative, as though he was drawing from knowledge buried deep within him.

“Sometimes, when a Celestial spends enough time around a particular human, they may develop a tether—it is a bond that links their existence to that person’s life in a profound way.” Gabriel replied.

“A tether?” Gabriel nodded at you.

The word felt heavy with significance. You had heard of it, of course, in ancient stories, tales of Celestials who had unknowingly bound themselves to a single soul, a single life, whether through empathy, admiration, or something far more elusive.

“A tether is rare, but it does happen. It is formed not by choice, but by some force beyond even our understanding. When a Celestial is tethered to a human, it is as if they share a part of their essence with them. It could be because you watched over him so closely after his father’s passing, you saw him through one of the most pivotal moments of his life.” Gabriel explained.

The notioned lingered between you, reverberating like an echo. You had indeed been there, unseen, at some of his most significant moments, his quietest doubts, his rare happiness. You had felt compelled to follow Charles’ journey, though you could never quite explain why.

“But if I’m tethered to him, what does that mean for us?” The question was one you had not thought to ask before. It felt really impossible, like trying to decipher the meaning of a shadow that has been casted by an unseen light. “Is it my responsibility to stay close to him…to protect him?”

“Not necessarily.” Gabriel considered this, his expression calm and wise. “A tether isn’t a duty. It’s simply a bond. It doesn’t force you to act or change your purpose, but it can shape how you experience your existence—how you feel, and perhaps, in rare instances, it allows the human on the other end to see us, as Charles did today.”

You let Gabriel’s words sink in, the idea that your connections with Charles might be something outside either of your control. A rare, inexplicable bond that went beyond the boundaries you had come to know.

“Does he know?” You wondered aloud, the thought both terrifying and exhilarating. “Can he sense it as I do?”

“It’s possible,” Gabriel murmured. “Even if he doesn’t consciously understand, he may feel it. An inexplicable comfort, a quiet sense of your presence. Humans don’t often recognize such things, but in their hearts, they understand more than they realize.”

“I thought I understood my purpose,” you said quietly. “To guide, protect from a distance, never to interfere. But this…it feels like something more. I didn’t think I could feel this way.” You closed your eyes, absorbing the realization that your connection to Charles might be as real to him as it was to you.

Gabriel gave you a look of quiet understanding. “Feelings are not foreign to us, though they are seldom as strong as what humans experience. It is only natural to be curious, to want to understand what draws us to them, and what makes them so fascinating to us.”

He paused, then added softly, “but remember, the tether doesn’t mean you must change your purpose. It only means you’ve shared part of yourself with him, and in return, he has shared a part of his essence with you. It’s a gift, though one we may never fully understand.”

You nodded, a deep sense of acceptance settling over you. Charles might never know the truth of who you were, or why he saw you, but perhaps that was the beauty of it. He would carry the sense of your presence, a constant and silent connection, and in a way, it would be enough.

You just sat in silence with Gabriel, looking out over the glittering cityscape, you felt the comfort of his companionship. The two of you were bound to different souls, different journeys, but you shared the same questions, same yearnings.

As the night wore in, and the world around was now silent in the aftermath of the race, and the Singaporean circuit lay quiet, already emptied of the usual buzz of engines and the thrill of spectators. Only a few distant voices and the gentle hum of machineries being packed away punctuated the stillness.

Charles lingered in the Ferrari motorhome, his mind far from the day’s race. Finishing in P5 and scoring point should have filled him with satisfaction, yet something lingered beneath it all, a presence far more pressing. You. The image of you, standing amid the crowd, hauntingly calm and out of place, had filled his thoughts since he had passed by you that afternoon. He had always known you, even though Charles was certain he had never seen you before. The fact that you were gone the moment he had looked away haunted him, and now, despite the silence around him, his mind raced with the need to see you again.

As Charles stepped out of the motorhome, running a hand through his damp hair, he slowed, his eyes searching the dimly lit surroundings as if hoping to catch a glimpse of you. Then, just beyond the edge of the shadows, there you were. You stood there, calm and still, a silhouette framed by the city lights, a vision of dark elegance against the fading glow of the circuit. You were wearing the same all-black ensemble he had seen you in before, a stark contrast against the remnants of bright lights and flashes that had filled the paddock earlier, and the subtle breeze caught your coat, giving you an almost weightless presence as if you were somehow apart from the world around you.

For a brief moment, neither of you moved. Charles’ gaze lingered on you, studying the way your features seemed almost unreal, too striking to belong to the ordinary world he inhabited. It was as though everything he had ever seen had paled in comparison. He could feel some type of strange warmth radiate from you, a kind of serene beauty that pulled at him and silenced everything else in his mind. If ethereal were to take a human form, it would look like you, he was sure of it. Then you spoke.

“Hello, Charles.” You greeted him.

Your voice was soft, almost like a gentle breeze yet clear in the quiet of the evening. There was a soft smile on your lips, one that carried both mystery and warmth. Charles’ eyes widened, his heart seeming to stop for a second.

“I know that you can see me.” You said gently, the faintest trace of amusement in your voice.

For the first time, Charles felt a strange mixture of exhilaration and vulnerability. He had spent so many years convincing himself that you were just a figment of his imagination, yet here you were, standing mere feet from him, speaking as though you had been waiting for this moment just as he had.

Charles opened his mouth to respond, but no words came out. He was torn between asking if you were real and confessing that he had thought about you since that day at the hospital, wondering if he had imagined you. He felt as though the ground had shifted beneath him, everything he knew upended by this encounter, but before he could gather his words, a voice had brought him back.

“Charles!” A friend called out, waving him over from across the clearing, and instinctively, Charles turned his head to. “We’re already heading out, you coming?”

Charles nodded in acknowledgment. But the moment he glanced back to look at you, you had already disappeared. A rush of frustration flared in him, sharper than anything he had felt in recent memory. The moment he finally had you there, standing before him, speaking to him as though you understood this strange, silent connection, you had vanished again, leaving only the soft night breeze in your wake.

He just stood there, his chest tightening with an unnameable sense of loss, staring at the empty space where you had just been. Charles could still feel the subtle warmth of your presence, a lingering trace of your smile that had somehow left an imprint on his mind. His hands clenched and unclenched as if he could somehow reach for you and pull back, his jaw set in determination.

Though you were gone again, the mystery of you wrapped around him tighter than ever, leaving him certain of one thing—he would see you again. He had to.

taglist : @charlesgirl16 @chloes-book-corner

[natailiatulls07]

Childhood Sweethearts

Charles Leclerc x female!reader

Summary - After years of being separated, the two childhood lovers reunite once again

Warning - Herve Leclercs death, anxiety

-

Growing up, the Leclerc’s and the L/n’s were close family friends. Pascale and Herve were Y/n’s godparents. Being the same age, the parents would often stick Charles and Y/n together claiming that they were future lovers and soulmates.

That’s how the two developed a crush on the other, an innocent and first crush.

It didn’t help that the two would unknowingly play into the scenario of young love, like this one time Charles had given her his lollipop because there wasn’t any left for Y/n. Or the time where Y/n offered to play football with him when Charles’ other friends couldn’t, despite the fact that she didn’t know how to play the sport.

Pascale and Y/n’s mum would always say “oh look at them, the cutest little couple ever”. Or Herve and her father would always convince Charles to buy Y/n a little gift with his pocket money which he happily obliged to.

However, in 2017, after Herves unfortunate and devastating death, the two families grew apart. They never wanted this to happen but sometimes in life these things do happen and we can’t control them.

They felt uncomfortable spending time together without the company of the late Leclerc. Losing contact was when Charles and Y/n had finally broken apart.

Yet their life long love for each other didn’t flutter away, they would still love the other the same but just miss them incredibly.

-

“Yes mum, I’ll be okay don’t worry” I had only just gotten off the plan in Austria when my mum called me, she has always been very anxious when I travel alone.

“Ok honey, when you do see Charles tell him that he should bring his mum over sometime” That’s why I was here in Austria, I was planning on surprising him.

It all started when his little brother, Arthur, reached out to me through instagram dm’s.

Hey Y/n, long time no see. I was wondering if you could do me a favour

So when he explained how Charles had been feeling a little down about his performance this year on track and that Arthur thought it was best if I came to surprise him, I didn’t hesitate to agree.

It was along before race day Sunday came around. I had arranged to meet Arthur at the paddock entrance and he’d be my guide for the day. I had butterflies in my stomach, what if he had moved on from our silly childhood love? What if he didn’t want to see me again? I had many what if’s which didn’t help my anxiety. “Hey! Hey Y/n!” I heard the voice of the youngest Leclerc brother as he approached me, snapping me out of my head full of questions.

“Arthur Leclerc! Since when did you grow?!” I had always remembered how he would be smaller than me growing up and now he has grown well above my height.

“Long long time in the making, unless you’ve gotten shorter” He teased before pulling me into a hug. “No seriously we’ve missed you and your family…” Arthur’s voice now growing more somber.

“I know, we miss you guys too…but hopefully after today we’ll get some more time together…” I knew it wouldn’t be the same without Herve but we’d honour him and reminisce on the memories. Taking a deep breath as we pulled apart.

“Let’s do this! He’s going to be so happy!!” There was an evident smile of excitement on his face, which I only mirrored on my mine.

-

The race had just finished, with Charles coming in at second. Both Y/n and Arthur had managed to keep her out of sight of Charles, leaving the surprise for the podium.

Standing just below the podium, she watched how Checo then Charles and finally Max took their places.

Y/n wasn’t sure he’d see her as she was amongst a sea of red, all the Ferrari engineers and employees. That was until Charles had looked down at the red sea, his eyes clicked on a familiar yet stranger of a face.

His hand flew over his mouth to show his shock, before jumping down from second place and running down to her. Many staff members tried to stop him, but his force was too strong.

Finally the man in the Ferrari racing suit had come face to face with her again. “What? How are you here?” Charles had many questions, beyond baffled.

“To surprise you, Charlie” Their cheeks were beginning to hurt because of how much they were smiling. Crashing her into his arms, they both felt at home and comfortable.

“Oh ma amour… I’ve missed you some much” Y/n was close to tears, she had never found anyone who loved her the way he did. She missed that love they had for each other.

“Missed you too Charlie” She managed to croak out through her tears. They were both too focused on each other to notice everyone around them.

Arthur was watching from just beside, happy that he could reunite the childhood sweethearts after so long. Fans were confused but cheering nonetheless as they could see the relief and comfort this brought to Charles.

You could see Max looking down from his spot on the podium to see the two reuniting. He had known of Y/n from their karting days where her family would join the Leclercs to support Charles on the sidelines.

Max would often remember how she was the first one to hug and congratulate Charles whatever the race result, he saw the love in their eyes.

-

It had been a few days after the race, and the two were once again inseparable. Travelling back to Monaco whilst the two families planned a small get together.

“So Y/n, how is everything? I’ve missed our girls days out with me, you and your mum” Pascale had pulled Y/n aside, she wanted to catch up with her goddaughter.

“All good but even better now! Yes we should definitely do a girls spa day soon” A bright smile was etched on Y/n’s face, showing Pascale that she was far from lying.

“Of course, tell me has there been any other men in your life over the years…” As much as Pascale hated the idea of Y/n with someone else and Charles with someone else, she needed to know.

“No…Charlie has always been the one with my heart…” There was a sigh of relief coming from the older women’s lips as Y/n revealed her love for him.

“Well you’ll be glad to know that I think you and Charles are on the same page there…” She could only smirk when Y/n started to blush.

“Thank you Pascale, you really are my fairy godmother” With that Pascale pulled her into a hug, a long and warming hug.

-

“So tell us Charles, who is the new lucky girl?” The interviewer asked. It had been just over few months since Charles and Y/n reunited and their love had become strong than ever.

“She’s nothing new, we’ve always loved each other like we do now but yeah she’s my soulmate, my other half” Anyone who could see him now could see the love in his eyes.

This wasn’t an ordinary love story, and you could tell. “I love her and she loves me, always have and always will”

-

[traumasurvivorshelpingsurvivors]

Struggling with self-compassion?

Recommended Reading:

Bluth, K. (2017). The Self-Compassion Workbook for Teens: Mindfulness and Compassion Skills to Overcome Self-Criticism and Embrace Who You Are. Oakland, CA: New Harbinger.

Brach, T. (2003) Radical Acceptance: Embracing your life with the heart of a Buddha. New York: Bantam.

Brach, T. (2020). Radical Compassion. NY: Penguin.

Brown, B. (2010). The Gifts of Imperfection. Center City, MN: Hazelden.

Desmond, T. (2015). Self-Compassion in Psychotherapy: Mindfulness-Based Practices for Healing and Transformation. Norton.

Germer, C. K. (2009). The mindful path to self-compassion: Freeing yourself from destructive thoughts and emotions. New York: Guilford Press.

Germer, C. K. & Neff, K. D. (2019). Teaching the Mindful Self-Compassion program: A guide for professionals.  New York: Guilford Press.

Gilbert, P. (2009). The compassionate mind. London: Constable.

Hickman, S. (2021).  Self-Compassion for Dummies. Hoboken, NJ: John Wiley.

Neff, K. D. & Germer, C. K (2018). The Mindful Self-Compassion workbook: A proven way to accept yourself, find inner strength, and thrive.  New York: Guilford Press.

Neff, K. D. (2021). Fierce Self-Compassion: How Women Can Harness Kindness to Speak Up, Claim Their Power, and Thrive. New York:  Harper Wave.

Neff, K. D. (2011).  Self-Compassion: The proven power of being kind to yourself.  New York:  William Morrow.

Pollak, S. (2019). Self-Compassion for Parents: Nurture your child by caring for yourself. New York: Guildford Press.

Shapiro, S. (2020).  Good Morning I Love You.  Boulder, Sounds True.

Silberstein-Tirch, L. (2019) How to Be Nice to Yourself: The Everyday Guide to Self Compassion. San Antonio, TX: Althea Press

CHILDREN’S BOOKS

Beltzner, E. (2019).  How to tame the tumbles:  The mindful and compassionate way.  Ontario: Mosaic Press.

Garcia, G. (2017). Listening with My Heart: A story of kindness and self-compassion. Gabi Garcia Books.

Marlowe, S. (2016). My new best friend. Summerville, MA: Wisdom Publications.

O’Leary, W.  (2023).  It’s OK: Being kind to yourself when things feel hard.  Bala Kids.

Source

[hexhomos]

Sorry, I'm asking here because asks aren't on your doomreed account, but do you have any fic recs for them ? You and vinnies art have intrigued me 😭 they both seem like such wet cats in different ways, and I love that

help i didnt know asks were off fixed that now thank you... I have two fics i keep in my back pocket as like, exemplary distillations of their whole thing (one in college vs one of their usual superhero stuff,) these are;

Supersymmetry and Night Blooms

Rly good examples of their usual shenanigans, the second one is directly based on a canon comic issue that *feels* like fanfic by a prolific yaoi author, the first is set in a modern-time re-imagining of the fantastic four where they meet in a supergenius internship thinktank for gifted youngsters. There's other fics that are good but i think they might be super confusing without canon context! which leads me to my second point. After you read these fics...

A lot, and i mean A LOT of official doomreed stuff feels straight up like fanfic. Either because its so beautifully woven or insane in concept (doctor doom points a gun at the real life Jack Kirby and Stan Lee to get himself written back into reed's life in his 3rd ever classic appearance, in the 60's, THAT'S the bodyswap issue)

or because the literal authors themselves come out to say 'they're soulmates' or 'they're in love' and Im talking abt this:

(^joseph culp, the first ever doom actor from 1994)

(^fantastic four (2019))

I've got even more stuff under the cut!! AND recs!!! CLICK! v v v

(^jonathan hickman, author of arguably the best FF saga & Secret Wars (2015)!!!)

(^Cantwell, author of the Doctor Doom comic!!)

These are excerpts from the canon fantastic four book, DOOMGATE:

There's even an RPG INSTRUCTION MODULE based on the idea of an earth where Reed & Victor partner up in college, Reed dies a tragic death (via their lab experiments) and Victor assumes such a traumatized widow role in his honor that he grows up to be a golden hero and protector of earth LOL (still a bit nuts):

This is not even to touch on the breadth of all their comic issues and little moments together. Victor canonically delivers Reed's second child and he chooses her name! Shes treated like his child too and calls him uncle doom!!

...Victor even asks Reed out on candlelit dinner dates for a yearly Latverian holiday!

In fact, that's the great starter doom/reed issue i keep recommending: read [ My Dinner With Doom right here. ]

If you enjoy that, check out my [ broader post guide for doomreed reading. ]

Still on the fence? try out these single comic issues:

Doctor Doom:

*Fantastic Four (1961) annual 2 (Classic origin of Doom issue) *Some call it MAGIC (the introduction of Doom's struggle w/ the devil for his mother's soul)

Doomreed:

*Marvel Two-in-One (2017) annual 1 *Marvel Two-in-One (2017) #11 (2nd fic i linked is based on this!!!!!!!!!) *'Duel Intentions' short story *Doom 2099 (2019) *Fantastic Four #700 special *Shame Itself (noncanon satire mini)

Anyway I've had a lot of fun reading these series generally and their big, year-spanning arcs are incredible. People hype up Secret Wars for a reason, Hickman's fantastic four builds up a really compelling doom/reed epic of cosmic divorce proportions. And its about love! And Forgiveness!

[karleksmumskladdkaka]

Guess who just received a fuckton of new DL stuff? \(//∇//)\

Now that I am loaded with new things I figured the time was ripe for an update/follow up to this post I made a while ago, so that you guys know what to expect in the future! I fully intend to share everything with you in due time ✧ദ്ദി( ˶^ᗜ^˶ ) ( @otomehonyaku feel free to add any of the things you want to your upcoming translations list ^^ The moment I post the audio/scans, they're at your full disposal)

Without further ado...here are my new (and old) treasures ╰(*´︶`*)╯♡

Booklets & Perfect Guide ⋆⋅☆⋆⋅

From upper left to bottom right:

More, Blood (CD) Stellaworth Booklet

More, Blood (VN) Stellaworth Booklet

More Character Song Stellaworth Booklet

Bloody Bouquet Stellaworth Booklet

Lunatic Parade Stellaworth Booklet

Lost Eden Special Booklet

Eternal Blood Stellaworth Booklet

Versus IV Stellaworth Booklet

Grand Edition Stellaworth Booklet

Daylight Animate Booklet (Mukami ver)

Daylight Stellaworth Booklet

Dark Fate Perfect Guide Dark Pleasure

In addition to these I've also acquired the Versus Song Stella booklet, though it's in storage atm. Which means I only have Para-Selene left to snag ╭( ･ㅂ･)و ̑̑

Drama CDs ⋆⋅✮⋅⋆

From upper left to bottom right (uncrossed!):

Vandead Carnival Special Voice CD

MB Limited V Edition Special Voice CD

Dark Fate Special Voice CD

Lost Eden Special Voice CD

Sadistic Night 2017 CD

Versus IV Stellaworth Tokuten CD (Ruki)

Grand Edition Animate Situation CD

Daylight Stellaworth Tokuten CD (Ruki)

Nothing new here, as you see. Was too lazy to take a new picture lol so I've just crossed out the ones I've already shared with you from the old one

Miscellaneous ⋆⋅☽⋅⋆

From upper left to bottom right:

More, Blood Stellaworth SS Paper

More, Blood Ebten After Story Card (Shuu)

More, Blood Ebten After Story Card (Ruki)

Christmas Message

Bloody Bouquet Stellaworth SS Paper

Postcard with message

Blood Affair Message Card

More, More Blood Deluxe Edition Message Card

More, More Blood Mini After Story Card

Bloody Ghost SS Card

Secret Memories SS Card

Daylight Letter

Bloody June Bride Letters (2)

Forever Gift Letters (3)

Surprise Q&A (not pictured but will 200% be shared in the future)

I also have a shitload of bromides and clear files etc. most of which I'll post individually later on. And I've got some additional message cards in storage, so... I won't run out of things to post anytime soon dhfgfhjk

[igetthedisneybox]

The Future of the Family Madrigal

Inspired by @hannahhook7744's AU, here's what my new Madrigal family tree looks like, roughly twenty-six years after the events of the movie.

I used the scrapped characters from the Encanto Artbook, as well as some early versions of existing characters to round things out.

EDIT: Added two additional kids, to bring Dolores and Mariano's kid count up to five.

First Row: Pedro Madrigal and Alma Cadenza

Second Row: Félix Castillo, Pepa Madrigal, Alejandra Delgado, Bruno Madrigal, Julieta Madrigal, and Augustín Rojas

Third Row: Antonio Madrigal, Camilo Madrigal, Dolores Madrigal, Miranda Madrigal, Amelia Madrigal, Sofía Madrigal, Isabela Madrigal, Luisa Madrigal, and Mirabel Madrigal

Fourth Row: Marcos Vasquez, Mariano Guzmán, Juana Aguado, Bubo Marquez

Fifth Row (and the one slightly above it): Hugo Madrigal, José Madrigal, Héctor Madrigal, Princesa Madrigal, Fuega Madrigal, Mariana Madrigal, Óscar Madrigal, Beatriz Madrigal, Lidia Madrigal

Sixth Row: Leta Madrigal, Andrés Madrigal, Carlos Madrigal, Avila Madrigal, Amada Madrigal, Tomás Madrigal, Rómulo Madrigal, and Zoe Madrigal

Putting a character and familial guide under the cut, because the tree is m e s s y

Alejandra is Bruno's wife, and Miranda, Amelia, and Sofía are their daughters.

Alejandra is a scrapped character who I think was supposed to be the original founder, and the Julieta Character's mother. She appears to be dead in the version of the story she's in, as we see her statue, but not her. I decided to make her Bruno's wife, as I think he deserves a scary sword wife who loves him and their daughters very much.

Miranda was an early version of Julieta, and Alejandra's daughter. Since the two look near identical, they kinda ended up being a package deal. Miranda is technically Bruno's step-daughter, but that doesn't really matter.

Amelia and Sofía are characters from a very early concept. I threw them in as Bruno's daughters, as I liked the idea of one of Bruno's kids having a 'bad' power.

Marcos is Camilo's husband, and Hugo, José, and Héctor are their sons.

There are so many early concepts of Bruno, that there are no less than three in this tree, and they all look different. Marcos is one of those early concepts, back when Bruno was a skinny twink with bright blue eyes. The name Marco was chosen from a list of potential names for Bruno.

Hugo is an early version of Antonio (there are also a lot of those here), one where he's older and selectively mute.

José seems to be from the same era as the twins, although he doesn't get any notes. He seems like he'd be Camilo's kid in any timeline lol.

Héctor is yet another concept of Antonio, but I thought he looked different enough from Hugo that it worked out. I picked the name as a reference to the movie Coco.

Leta, Andrés, Carlos, Avila, and Amada are Dolores and Mariano's children.

Leta was Pepa's twin sister originally, so I thought it made sense to make her her granddaughter instead.

Andrés is another Bruno, and I thought he looked the most like Dolores out of any of the concept characters. Andre was another potential Bruno name, so I named this version of him that.

Carlos is the infamous beta Camilo. Since Cami doesn't have any bio kids, I gave Carlos to Dolores to explain the simillarites. Plus, he does kind of resemble Mariano.

Avila and Amada are two of the four concept girl cousins in the artbook. Picked them because they have Dolores' ears and Pepa's teeth. @hannahhook7744 showed me a concept character from an early script called Amada, and we discovered that Alma's name was originally going to be Avila (in the 2017 version) so I picked those names. (Thanks Hannah!)

Juana is Luisa's wife, and Tomás, Rómulo, and Zoe are their children.

Juana is an early Pepa, back when her gift was indestructability. I paired them together just because Luisa needs a laid back gf to counteract The Anxiety. Her name is actually a beta Julieta name.

Tomás and Rómulo are a pair of twins that appeared only once in a family portrait. There are very limited boy concepts, so I snagged these guys too. Tomás means "twin" and Rómulo is the Spanish form of Romulus, a very famous twin.

Zoe is from the same era as José, Amelia, and Sofía. She's basically the poster child for Scrapped Encanto Characters.

Bubo is Mirabel's husband and Óscar, Beatriz, and Lidia are their children.

Bubo is Isa's scrapped love interest, but I'd already planned on having Isa stay single when I learned about him, so I ditched the OC I gave to Mirabel, and gave Bubo to her. They both have glasses, so I think they'd be cute together.

Óscar is the third Bruno, and the one who gets the Óscar name. I was originally using a different Óscar, but figured that this one looks the most like Bubo. The name is the most widely used name for beta Bruno.

Beatriz is a beta Mirabel, so obviously I made her her daughter.

Lidia is a Luisa, and looks decently enough like canon Mirabel and Bubo. Lidia was supposedly Luisa's name before it was Luisa.

Isabela has no partner, but Princesa, Fuega, and Mariana are her daughters.

Princesa is a bit of an enigma to me. I think she was supposed to be an aunt of some kind, maybe Augustín's sister? It's never made very clear. She's shown to be dating/married to a beta Mariano, and potentially the mother of the four girl cousins? Anyway, I aged her down so I could use her as Isabela's daughter.

Fuega was supposed to be Isabela's other sister/cousin, one who was jealous of her gift and 'perfect' status.

Mariana seems to be a veeeeery early version of Mirabel. The name also stems from an early version of Mirabel.

I have bios for all the kids, I just need to post them.

[ducktoonsfanart]

Adult Huey, Dewey and Louie Duck as astronauts as Apolo 11 Crew (Neil Armstrong, Edwin Buzz Aldrin and Michael Collins) - Space Race - Ducktales 2017 - Ducktales in Space

Since I drew Donald Duck as Yuri Gagarin and Della Duck as Valentina Tereshkova as the first men in space, then the parallel of the first men on the moon could have something to do with Huey, Dewey and Louie from Ducktales 2017. And I drew the three of them as Apollo 11 astronauts who were the first to walk on the moon (allegedly), but here they are no longer children, but adults. I don't usually draw adult Huey, Dewey and Louie, so this is my first time doing it and I did it with the Ducktales 2017 version, but in my own style. Yes, I redraw the poses of astronauts Neil Armstrong, Edwin Buzz Aldrin and Michael Collins who led the Apollo 11 crew in the Saturn V rocket from July 16 to July 24, 1969, with July 20 and 21 being Neil Armstrong and Buzz Aldrin walked on the moon and were the first people to walk on the moon and brought great pride to the USA and to all mankind.

And this is where Huey, Dewey and Louie grew up, playing the role of the Apollo 11 crew and who will be the first ducks to walk on the moon. Yes, although they are different, they all together have their tasks in space. Huey as an explorer of new unknown frontiers and a scientist, Dewey as a pilot and coordinator and Louie as a businessman who finances it all, but they are all astronauts together. Like like their mother and like their uncle. And they are in spacesuits (Apollo/Skylab spacesuit) which are mostly white, but I colored some parts according to them.

"Look to the stars my darling baby boys Life is strange and vast Filled with wonders and joys Face each new sun with eyes clear and true Unafraid of the unknown Because I'll face it all with you" - a lullaby from their mother Della Duck.

Also this song about this: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=j1qQuSuQaHY

I hope you like this drawing and this idea. Also this is my gift to @ducksinspaceadventure , who asked for this. Also happy belated birthday to Huey, Dewey and Louie and may the guiding stars guide them to endless adventure and their destination! It's a small step for ducklings, but a big one for humanity, that is, for ducks. Feel like and reblog this!

[livwritesstuff]

okay so when i was writing this, i had a whole scene written about how steve is a video game guy and bought himself the SNES when it came out as a reward for getting through undergrad and loves the mario franchise in particular. i ended up cutting it out for the sake of brevity, but it got me thinking

In 2008, Steve and Eddie give their daughters a Nintendo Wii as a collective Christmas gift, and with it comes Mario Kart.

Now, nothing rivals the Harrington Family Mario Kart experience – there’s ganging up on each other and mocking the CPUs and throwing Wii remotes across the room and relentless trash talk. It is an all-time favorite game to play as a family.

That being said – Eddie is horrible at Mario Kart, even the janky earlier versions. He’s able to hold his own against his seven- and five-year old for about as long as it takes for them to figure out the controls (which is approx. two days for Moe, and Robbie’s right behind her). After that, he’s consistently getting destroyed by not only his husband, but also his elementary school-aged children.

Steve, on the other hand, is excellent at Mario Kart. He went easy on the girls while they were learning but the second they had it figured out and started to become real competition for him, it was over. He is also extremely competitive, something Moe and Robbie absolutely picked up from him, so by the time the Nintendo Switch is released in 2017, Mario Kart had become a very serious family affair (much to Eddie’s chagrin).

Eddie gets one look at Metal Mario and insists on playing as him because…metal. Duh. But then he’s careening uncontrollably around the course, spending more time soaring off the track than actually driving on it, and he can’t figure out why.

Robbie: Different characters have different stats, Dad.

Eddie: What the fuck are his stats then?

Robbie: Pretty sure he’s, like, one of the fastest ones.

So he switches over to Lemmy (because “that’s a kick-ass head of hair”) and comfortably ambles around the course, never placing higher than eighth but also no longer sending himself flying off into the abyss.

Hazel inherited her dad’s lack of proclivity for the game (though she’s definitely still better at it than him – it would be hard not to be). She likes the “cute” ones – the babies, the villagers, Toad and Toadette – and she usually chooses a novelty cart like the carousel horse. She also doesn’t have that competitive need to win, which is good because Moe, Robbie, and Steve can collectively bring the “healthy” tension-level to its max capacity.

Moe’s guiding force in choosing a Mario Kart character is a healthy mix of aesthetic and irony. She usually opts for King Boo. She also maintains that the stats don’t actually mean anything, and that she drives the same regardless of who she plays as

Steve and Robbie completely disagree with this. They are arguably the best at Mario Kart out of the entire family, and they’re pretty much matched, skill-wise. As such, they have very strong feelings about those stats that Moe says don’t matter because they tend to be the determining factor in who actually wins.

Steve is always using new combinations of characters and karts – he has an Excel spreadsheet for tracking what he’s tried out and everything.

Conversely, Robbie has firmly settled on Rosalina and will not change her mind.

Steve: There’s, like, six characters way faster than her!

Robbie: It’s about the traction, Pop.

[eraseer]

Kirk Knuffke Trio w Michael Bisio, Matthew Shipp

"Gravity Without Airs"

TAO Forms, 2022

free jazz

Artwork by Robin D. Williams

bandcamp blurb: This is Knuffke’s debut as a leader for TAO Forms, following on his being elemental part of James Brandon Lewis / Red Lily Quintet’s Jesup Wagon, one of the most acclaimed jazz releases of 2021. That album was eventually voted #1 Album of the Year in the JazzTimes Critics Poll & the international Jazz Critics Poll established by Francis Davis. Accolades for the cornetist’s own recent work as leader include NPR’s Jazz Album of the Year laurel for 2017’s Cherryco, his homage to Don Cherry – a prime influence. DownBeat praised the way that album showcased Knuffke’s “nonchalant versatility and ebullient melodic gifts,” while esteemed critic Francis Davis called it “nothing short of spectacular.” On his guiding artistic impulse, Kirk Knuffke says: “I’m concerned with making beautiful music. Beauty is always first, though not in a precious way. It can be in a rough way, too.” A prolific, lauded record-maker, Gravity Without Airs fulfills his poetic aims as well as any recording he has made. This work finds Knuffke in the rare, even unique, trio format of cornet, piano and double-bass. His partners are two ever-estimable pillars of creative music, and the work they’ve created together here brims with melody and mystery. Regarding the album title, Knuffke explains: “I was reading Meditations by Marcus Aurelius while preparing for this recording. He used the phrase ‘gravity without airs’, and it stuck with me. That’s what it’s all about! Being heavy but not putting on airs – that’s what my favorite musicians do. In these days of social media and constant hype and self-promotion, this is what we should really aspire to: do the work and study, get into your thing and avoid showing it off half-cooked. Matthew and Michael have that sort of grace. I was really touched because once we started playing, they both got excited and wanted to play more and more – that’s how we ended up with a double album,” Knuffke recalls. "I hope people can listen to it as a whole, so they can hear all the subtleties as well as the shape and flow of the album. I have to say: I’m especially proud of this one.” 

More information:

https://taoforms.bandcamp.com/album/gravity-without-airs

[batmanisagatewaydrug]

TRICK OR TREAT

this Judith Leiber rainbow french fry clutch (USD $5695) featured on Gwyneth Paltrow's 2017 holiday gift guide

[tropeifier]

"Reading Rosa", the complete mini-series [5 pages, complete].

(A.K.A. what happens when I come up with 20 or so punchlines for one joke.)

Originally posted online from July to August 2017.

Puns based on the texts: A Tale of Two Cities Fahrenheit 451 The Great Gatsby Paradise Lost The Ugly Barnacle Of Mice and Men Moby Dick Heart of Darkness Catch-22 Pride and Prejudice A Farewell to Arms The Lord of the Flies Brave New World Little Women The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy Catcher in the Rye The Importance of Being Earnest Gone with the Wind Gift of the Magi The Adventures of Huckleberry Finn

[inspofromancientworld]

Legendary Creatures: Lamia

By John William Waterhouse - http://www.johnwilliamwaterhouse.com/pictures/lamia-1909/, Public Domain, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=1884661

The Lamia (Λάμια) is a ancient Greek mythological creature that started as a child-eater and then became a 'night haunting' spirit or diamon (a guiding spirit or 'lesser deity').

By Edward Topsell (c. 1572 – 1625) - http://info.lib.uh.edu/sca/digital/beast/pages.html?id=91, Public Domain, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=11694964

First written of as a Queen of Libya who had an affair with Zeus. When Hera found out about the affair, Hera stole Lamia's children, who were fathered by Zeus, from her through kidnapping or death and then cursed her with insomnia, perhaps making it so she couldn't close her eyes, so she couldn't escape her pain. Driven insane by her grief, Lamia sought out vengeance by eating any child she came across. Her appearance changed from being quite beautiful to monstrous. In an effort to offset Hera's actions, Zeus gave Lamia the gift of prophecy and the ability to remove and replace her eyes as a way to give her some peace.

By fonte, Public Domain, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=34791154

In the 1st Century BCE, Diadorus Siculus removed Zeus and Hera from the story, maintaining that Lamia was a Libyan queen, but saying instead that she ordered soldiers to steal children and kill them. Her actions then caused her to become ugly. He also said that she was born in a cave.

By Unknown author - Wall painting from the Odyssey Landscapes, Musei Vaticani, Biblioteca Apostolica, Città del Vaticano, Rome., Public Domain, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=13309598

Some sources state that Zeus took Lamia to Italy, to the city of Lamos, for their affair, where the Laestrygonians, which were man-eating giants, came from. Others say that she was the queen of the Laestrygonians.

Original image by Marie-Lan Nguyen. Uploaded by Mark Cartwright, published on 11 January 2017. The copyright holder has published this content under the following license: Public Domain

Like many monsters, the Lamia was used as a bogeyman to keep children in line, as Diadorus recorded in the 1st century BCE. Quintus Horatius Flaccus, commonly known as Horace, who lived from 65 BCE-8 BCE, wrote against being too fantastical, giving the example of '[nor should a story] draw a live boy out of the Lamia's belly'. Lamia was held in company with the Gorgons and others as 'mormo' ('female spirits invoked by mothers and nurses to frighten children').

By Isobel Lilian Gloag - http://24.media.tumblr.com/tumblr_lbqq4kGf961qzs3iqo1_500.jpg, Public Domain, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=15045311

By the 1st century CE, Lamia became a seductress, luring young men to devour them, with Lucius Flavius Philostratus, known as Philostratus or 'the Athenian', who lived from about 170-240 CE., writing that a student of Apollonius was seduced by 'one of the empousai (a shape-shifting female with a copper leg), whic most other people would call lamial or mormolykeia'. Apollonius also said 'you are warming a snake (ophis) on your bosom, and it is a snake that warms you', which gave rise to the idea that Lamia became snakes.

[dragonagefanevents]

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[go-learn-esperanto]

Can you tell me about Watcher stuff as someone who has no idea what that is all about (I've just seen the very cool fanarts) :( pls

Alright. This will be a bit brief because I need to go to bed (sorry. And also sorry for possible typos in advance)

The Watchers are beings introduced in the Evolution SMP. A series that started in 2017 and went to 2018. Grian was one of the participants and actually the initial admin. Or at least one of them.

The Evolution SMP, or EVO for short, is a server where you started in Minecraft beta and then go up in Updates.

The Watchers usually create towers made of obsidian and bedrock that give clues in rhymes or gifts (stuff in chests like diamonds, blocks a player might need, etc) and occasionally they will punish the players for various reasons. It can because a player was being mean or destroying stuff they shouldn't or because they want power in some way (apparently Martyn's case).

The rhymes and puzzles are supposed to guide the players to the next portal that will lead them to the next update.

At one point when going through an update the evolutionists (Evo players) have to defeat the ender dragon by themselves bit as coming back Grian, instead of going back to the server, turns into a Watcher (This is only revealed through text).

In this way Watchers are a viewer metaphor. Aka Grian was leaving the series (he was going to Hermitcraft) but the others would keep on playing and Grian would just watch instead of playing just like all of us.

The Watchers kept existing in the series as it went on and Jimmy expanded on it with their own interpretation of the Watchers.

In Last Life, Martyn's POV, they are confirmed as well as Grian is also confirmed as being one of them too, but refusing to do what they say "He was never meant to be there. He was only meant to watch". This is however just canon in Martyn's lore but you can expand it to everyone's lore if you so desire in fanon.