#his growth as a driver is beautiful to see

[mctwinkdom]

I'm obsessed with the man Lando is becoming

[katsu28]

ooooo “Making the other person a Spotify playlist with songs that remind them of their relationship and growth” for Lando???

thank you for requesting! hope you like this one <3

lando norris x reader, 1.3k, request something from here!

There aren’t many times you can get Lando all to yourself. His job comes with many responsibilities, as does your own. You understand the time and hard work it takes to do what he does day after day, week after week, and you like to think the two of you have found a way to balance it all. Dinners together whenever you can, texting and calling between meetings; you even have a shared calendar on your phones to keep track of your hectic schedules. 

Racing takes precedence on most weekends, of course. Some of them you’re able to attend, but lately things have been getting busy at your workplace nowadays, which means you’ve been working weekends too. Weekdays are slim pickings as well, with all of the traveling and training and things you have to get done as well. 

With all that’s been happening lately, you haven’t been able to spend nearly enough time with Lando. Late evenings at work, long training days—everything seems like it’s been piling up until the only time you really get to spend with each other on days that he’s home is right before bed. And even then, it isn’t long before one of you inevitably falls asleep first. 

Which is why when you miraculously find yourself and Lando with a totally empty schedule today, free of any work related commitments for either of you, you’re over the moon. He suggests a day trip up the coast, just the two of you and the open road. Honestly, you don’t even care where you go, you just want to be with him. 

You’d think he’d be sick of driving given what he does for a living, but he just presses a kiss to your temple, saying that driving with you is something he’d never tire of. 

That’s how you end up here, sitting comfortably in the passenger seat of Lando’s Miura, fingers intertwined with his as he cruises down the coastline. Crystal clear water dotted with boats and even bluer skies on one side, beautiful scenery on the other, and the man you love sitting right next to you—what more could you ask for?

“Like what you see?” Lando’s teasing voice draws you out of your thoughts, and you refocus to see him still with his eyes on the winding highway ahead. But he’s grinning rather smugly, a grin that only grows bigger when you huff. “It’s alright, you can stare at me all you want. I know how sexy you think I am.” 

“That’s bold. Maybe I’m admiring the view.” 

“Yeah, and the view is called my carved-by-the-gods side profile.” 

“Someone’s a tad self absorbed. You’re voted top three hottest drivers on the grid one time and you start getting a big head, hm?” 

“I beat out Carlos, baby! Carlos fucking Sainz! You’ve seen the man, do you know how that makes me feel?” 

“Is there something I should be worried about, Lan? Are you going to leave me for Carlos?”

Lando snorts, aiming a brief but still effective skeptically arched brow at you. “Please, if I was gonna leave you for Carlos, I would’ve done it already.” 

“Oh, cheers. That’s reassuring.” 

“Happy to help.” 

“Can I play some music? I need to drown out the sound of your complete and utter betrayal.” You grumble, slouching in your seat with crossed arms. Lando laughs and nods, passing you his phone. He knows you’re just being fussy for the dramatics of it all.

You scroll through his Spotify playlists in search of something that looks interesting, but one in particular instantly catches your eye. Labeled “For my love” with an absurd amount of heart emojis after, you can’t help but feel like maybe, just perhaps this one might be for you. Or for Carlos, but you’re ninety percent sure it's you. 

Next to you, Lando inhales sharply through his teeth like he’s just remembered something, hand shooting out blindly. “Fuck, wait, hang on—” 

“Lando…” You say, only slightly teasing. All previous betrayal is instantly forgotten. You shift so his wiggling fingers can’t reach the phone, giggling a bit at the garbled noise that escapes from his mouth. He’s obviously figured out what you’ve just come across. “What’s this?” 

“You weren’t supposed to see that,” He sighs, cheeks already flushing pink. “It was meant to be a surprise.” 

“You made a playlist for me?” 

“Well, yeah. It’s sort of embarrassing.” He mumbles, suddenly sounding bashful.

“Oh come on, don’t get all shy on me now.” 

“Alright, fine! At first it was for me. Just songs I thought you’d like, and I’d listen to it all the times I was away and we couldn’t talk. Or if I was nervous before a race and started spiraling. And then…it just turned into songs that made me think about you. Made me think about us.” 

“There’s hundreds of songs on here, how did you even—when did you even start making this?” 

Lando swallows hard, knuckles flexing on the steering wheel.

“Honestly? The day we met. Call me a weirdo, but from the moment I saw you I knew you were it for me. Took both of us a while to get our shit together, but I never stopped believing it.” He says softly, hastening a glance over at you. He smiles and shrugs, reaching out to thread his fingers through yours once again. “And the songs…I dunno, they’re just my way of remembering how we got here. I meant to save it for our next big anniversary, but you’ve mucked it all up by being nosy, so now the cat’s out of the bag!” 

“You’re so fucking cute, babe,” You coo, leaning across the center console to press a smattering of kisses to the side of his heated face. “You made a whole playlist for me and listened to it when you missed me? That’s the cutest thing anyone’s ever done, you sap.” 

“Yeah, alright. You can shut up about it now,” He grumbles, but he still looks pleased. “Have a look through it. I think I’ve got some good ones on there.” 

The more you scroll through the list of songs, the more you feel like your heart is about to burst out of your chest. It mixes your music taste and his, and in a way, it feels very representative of not only who you are as individuals, but who you are with each other.  

It reads like a letter to you, to your relationship. To who you were back then and who you are now, who you’ve grown into together. 

There’s no doubt that in the years you’ve known each other, you’ve both changed. You’ve had good times and not so good ones too, but one thing that’s always remained is each other. From friendship, to teetering on something a little more, to finally finding love with one another, Lando has been the most unwavering constant in your life. You think that deep down, it was something you already knew, even from the first time you’d met him. 

“I’m gonna fucking cry, Lando,” You whine, emotion seeping into your words.

“Why? Is it bad? Is it too much?” He looks worried, but he can’t exactly take his eyes off the road to see why you’ve had the reaction you did.

“No, no. It’s perfect.” 

His shoulders sag in relief, and the smile returns to his face. “Oh. You like it?” 

“I love it.” You lift your joined hands, pressing a kiss to his knuckles that has him positively beaming with adoration. It goes without saying, but you truly don’t think you could love a person any more than you love Lando. You don’t want to, because he’s it for you. 

“You know what else?” He hums his piqued interest, likely expecting more praise. “Carlos can suck it. I got a playlist, what did he get? Absolutely nothing!” 

“For fuck’s sake, I was kidding!” 

follow @katsu-library to be notified when i post a new fic :)

[mariclerc]

Pretty like a flower | cl16

Summary: where some social media comments open up old insecurities in you.

Warnings: fluff, sad reader, reassuring Charles, social media hate.

Dating Charles is a totally fantastic experience, on one hand you love traveling the world with him and having little memories together, or just spend a quiet day at home away from your jobs. But at the same time, there are bad things, such as the lack of privacy because there are super nosy people who are not the fans, people that think they can take pictures of you every now and then and the fans themselves like to talk too much, especially about you...

The way you met Charles was the sweetest and cutest way of all, you were working at a local flower shop and he came in to get some flowers to take to his mom to decorate her hair salon — a pretty sweet gesture in your opinion, so between some babbling and shy glances at the handsome man, you helped him get the right flowers for his mother. And so the days went by, every week he went to the flower shop to get flowers for his mother and he always asked for help from the shy girl who spent her time making beautiful flower arrangements. You had no idea who he was, partly you did know who he was since Monaco is very small, but you only knew that he was a famous race car driver and that was it.

When you started dating everything was super good, normally you don't upload many things to social media since you like to keep everything private, you only uploaded some of your flower arrangements to your Instagram and other cute little things. Fans started comparing you to their ex-girlfriends, especially Alex since they had a massive break up last year, they said that you posted the same things as her on Instagram and that you were copying her, or they even said that you were soon going to do like her and become an influencer and that you only wanted him for the fame and money he could give you. And honestly, you don't think that way, you really love Charles with all your heart, he is someone so precious and wonderful to you, and you know that he loves you with all his heart.

Right now you are in your shared apartment alone, reading comments made on a gossip page about a paparazzi photo taken of you and Charles on the beach last weekend, the comments are mixed but there is one constant: all the comments are about how your body looks... Most people say: "aww, she looks so basic, Alex looked way better than her!", "I don't know what Charles saw in her, she's nothing special." "Look at her, she has no butt or boobies, she's just a board!" And the list of comments goes on and on.

“Not this again... Why do they always have to criticize what I wear or how I look? I'm just living my life with the man I love...” you sighed and you walked through the closet, looking at some of your clothes. “My favorite clothes doesn't even fit anymore, they all feel wrong.” you looked with watery eyes at your reflection in the mirror, you're wearing a mismatched lingerie, tugging your little tummy roll and small bust. “I know I'm not a model... But does everything really have to be picked apart?” you say as you look down at your short legs and big thighs with slight hair growth, even the most normal and natural thing in the world seems totally imperfect to you.

You were so focused on your inner monologue that you didn't hear that Charles has opened the door.

“Darling, I'm home! Where are you, mon cœur?” he says calling you out (my heart)

You called back with a shaky voice. “I-I'm in the bedroom...”

He enters the room and sees you crying in your mismatched lingerie, concern washing over his face. “Oh no. What's wrong, my love? Come here, talk to me.” he gathers you gently into his arms.

You sobbed into his chest. “I'm... I'm sorry Charlie, I know I'm being silly but I just feel so insecure about myself lately. All these comments talking about my body, and comparing me with one of your ex's, saying I'm not pretty enough to be with you.” you whispered with trembling voice. “Even my own clothes don't feel right on me anymore... I guess I started wondering if you only settled for me because of my boring looks and body.” you finished, emptying all your thoughts.

Charles held you while he gently caressed your hair, he knew that those comments were going to explode in you at some point, from the beginning you were always honest with him about your insecurities about yourself, something that perhaps was not so present in you before, but now — and thanks to the comments, has resurfaced again.

“Shh, don't say that stuff princess. You are the most beautiful girl in the world to me, inside and out... Those people don't know us or how much we care for each other, all that matters is how you see yourself, and how I see you.” he wipes one of your tears.

You looked up at him. “But... What do you see in me? I'm not sexy and thin like models or I don't have a perfect tan like your ex... I have small boobs, big and hairy thighs and I have a tummy...” you were going to continue, but he subtly stops you.

“Stop that talk right now. You are beautiful and sexy to me in every way, I love every single inch of your gorgeous body - your mesmerizing eyes, your cute little button nose, your adorable smile. Your tummy? Is where I like to put my hand and stroke its softness when we're sleeping or taking a nap, your boobs are perfect for me, as is every soft curve.” he smiled shyly while blushing. “You're my ideal of beauty and I'm the luckiest man alive because your heart chose me... And I'm so in love with you and all of those little things that make you so unique.”

You sniffle a bit, starting to feel a little bit better. “Really? You truly think I'm beautiful just the way I am?” you asked softly.

“Oh, you're more than beautiful! You're a fiery, intelligent, compassionate queen and I fall deeper in love with you every day. The judgements of strangers mean nothing when I have your love... You are as precious and delicate as a flower, you know, blooming and growing under my touch.” he kisses your forehead and you blushed so much thanks to his words. “So dry those silly tears, mon amour, and let me show you how much you turn me on just by being yourself.” he kisses you tenderly. (my love)

You feel his words washing over you, because he's right, you should feel good in your own body and no matter how much you say you don't look good or whatever, he doesn't care because he loves you whether you've changed your style or not, because he's totally in love with you.

You kiss him back softly while your hands rest gently on his chest. “I love you so much Charlie! Thank you for always making me feel like the most special girl.”

He smiles. “You are very special to me, my darling. Never forget your worth, okay?”

As Charles gazed at you with heartfelt adoration, you suddenly became conscious of your state of dress and you blushed.

“I, um... I'm not exactly matching or covered right now... sorry.” you mumbled shyly, crossing your arms over your chest.

Charles gently took your hands, uncrossing them so he could place tender kisses to your knuckles. “You have nothing to be self-conscious about, mon amour. Please don't feel shy with me.” you bite your lip, still hesitant. Chuckling softly, Charles hooked a finger under your chin to lift your gaze to his. “You could be wearing a trash bag and still be the most beautiful sight to me... But, since you're so worried right now...”

Reaching behind himself, he swiftly pulled his shirt over his head in one smooth motion. You gazed at him, momentarily distracted by his perfectly sculpted bare torso.

Charles winked playfully. “There we go, now we match. Feel better?” His boyish grin made you giggle, easing some of the tension.

“Much.” you whispered softly, poking his ribs. His breathless chuckle sent flutters through your spine.

He looks at your figure with adoration. “Pink is definitely your color, but you know how do you look way better?” he asked and you shake your head. “Wearing nothing at all...” he whispered and you blushed so much at his teasing.

Slowly, your shy insecurities began melting away under his tender and caring gaze.

Charles' hands found your waist, rubbing soothing circles over the skin. “You take my breath away every time I look at you, ma chérie. So soft, feminine, sexy and all mine.” (my darling)

Leaning in, he gently nuzzled your neck, trailing light kisses that had you sighing. “Please don't ever think you're not gorgeous, because I ache to worship every single inch of you.”

His husky words and touch ignited a longing deep within you. Threading your fingers through his hair, you pressed closer, relinquishing all shyness. Your eyes met, full of smoldering desire and promise of pleasurable distraction ahead.

Your lips met in a searing kiss as strong arms lifted you, carrying you to your shared bed where all that mattered was exploring each other in a sweet and gentle intimacy. Confident in his adoration, nothing could dim your light when you're in his loving embrace.

***

A few days had passed since Charles lovingly boosted your confidence and you were starting to feel more comfortable in your own skin again as you two planned to have a relaxing Saturday at home.

That afternoon, you tidied up around the apartment while clad in just mismatched lingerie and one of Charles' oversized shirts while he was doing some errands and buying some groceries. Lost in your house tasks, you hasn't heard the front door open.

“Darling, I'm ba-” Charles started to call out before stopping short at the sight before him, you froze as well, your face flushing under his admiring gaze. His eyes slowly roamed your figure, heated with desire and appreciation for you. “Oh, mon dieu, you take my breath away, baby.” he uttered softly. (my god)

Striding over, Charles pinned you gently against the counter with his taller form and you gazed up at him shyly through your lashes. “H-Hello...” you say softly.

Charles caressed your cheek smoothly, smiling down at you with heartstopping tenderness.

“Look at you petite fleur, so radiantly beautiful in just this... I feel like the luckiest man alive.” he smiles and leans in, he began feathering kisses along your neck that had you melting. “I knew that wicked outfit served another purpose beyond laundry day.” you giggled. (little flower)

His words, coupled with how reverently his hands roamed your curves, sent desire pooling low. All traces of shyness evaporated under his loving worship.

“How do you do that?” you breathed, tangling your fingers in his hair to hold him close. “You know... Make me feel like the most special woman alive?”

Charles met your eyes intensely. “Because to me, that is what you are - my queen, my everything. And I will spend every day showing you just how much you mean to me.”

Pulling you flush against him, you two kissed deeply and slowly, savoring each sensation. In his passionate embrace, you knew no other place you belonged more than by his side, in the spotlight of his beautiful devotion.

Charles' tender words and loving gaze never failed to make you blush like a schoolgirl. You shyly ducked your head against his chest, overwhelmed by the passion and devotion in his eyes.

“You always say the nicest things.” you mumbled shyly, playing with the hem of his shirt. His affection still caught you off guard at times, even after all this time together.

Charles lifted your chin, thumbs gently brushing over your flushed cheeks. “And I mean every single little word, ma chérie.” (my darling)

He leaned down, capturing your lips in a sweet kiss that had you melting. Pulling back slightly, your foreheads remained pressed together as Charles simply gazed at you with endless tenderness.

“How is it that after all this time, you continue to take my breath away?” he breathed, caressing your cheek softly.

You just shrugged, embarrassed. “I don't know, I'm just me...”

“Exactly!” Charles smiled. “You're you - compassionate, beautiful, sweet, and so strong. I fall more in love with you every second of every day... You deserve to see yourself the way I see you.”

His honeyed words had you fighting back happy tears. Wrapping your arms around his neck, you clinged to Charles in a tight embrace, overwhelmed by the depths of his love and care.

He held you just as close, gently rubbing your back and peppering your hair with tender kisses. “I love you so much, mon coeur. Never forget how amazing and cherished you are to me.” (my heart)

Suddenly you pulled him close to you again, you kissed him languidly, pouring every ounce of gratitude and affection into the intimate gesture.

Charles responded in kind, holding you reverently against his body. Lost in each other, you two became so enraptured that the rest of the world seemed to fade away.

All too soon, oxygen became a necessity. Breathless and flushed, you rested your foreheads together, smiling softly at one another.

You whispered. “I could stay like this forever in your arms.” you sighed contentedly and Charles nuzzled your cheek sweetly.

He smiled. “Well, then let us make a life filled with these kinds of moments, mon bébé.” he declared with quiet conviction. (my baby)

Your breath caught at the promise in his tone. Gazing deep into his eyes, you saw your future stretching ahead - a future of partnership, passion and being cherished each and every day by this beautiful soul.

Overcome, you pulled him once again into an embrace, clinging tightly as happy tears welled. In that perfect moment, all felt right in your own world wrapped in love's sheltering wings.

In the solace and security of his embrace, he slowly but surely continued renewing your self esteem each and every day. You truly feel like the luckiest girl to receive such devoted affection from your soulmate.

[deesseshesca]

PAC : What area of my life is most ready for an upgrade?

Block Facebook, Block Instagram, Block WhatsApp, block, block, block...

Winter arc mode: ON. Time to plant those 2025 seeds for the glow-up you deserve. For a total life upgrade, Join : ANGEL SOUL TRIBE ( Moodboard, Tarot affirmations: personalized vibes, cosmic results. 🌙✨) let’s make it happen!

ALL READING ON SALE (50% OFF)

You want to have a more detailed readings (for 2.22$), you can join my Chérie d'Amour (soul tribe)

PILE 1

Alright, so you’ve got some attachments that might be keeping you stuck, especially if they're leaning on the obsessive side. This might mean you’re in some habits or connections that feel like they’re taking control instead of you running the show. Maybe it’s clinging too hard to certain people or patterns that aren’t giving you the freedom you think they are. Basically, it's like you’re letting these things hold the remote, and they’re flipping through channels that keep you on repeat. To grow, try stepping back and seeing what’s genuinely helping you versus what’s just comfortable. Freeing yourself from these routines or relationships might feel tough, but once you do, you’re back in the driver’s seat.

💌: EXTENDED+MOODBOARD (FREE)

Ready to bring those dreams closer? Hit play and feel the shift (FREE AUDIO): INTRO AUDIO : PROJECT 2025-Chapt.1 (888)

PILE 2 

Alright, I get it — you’re a ride-or-die friend. You pour so much energy into your friendships that it almost becomes part of who you are. But here’s the catch: it’s time to check in on how that’s affecting your own growth. You’re spreading yourself so thin that other parts of your life, like finances, mental health, or even personal goals, might be taking a hit. Think of it like this: if you’re always on call for everyone else, how often do you really show up for yourself?

This isn't about cutting people off; it’s more like finding that balance where your cup isn’t drained because of the loyalty you bring to your friendships. Try putting some of that energy into you first. Shift things around a bit so your own goals get that VIP treatment. Let yourself take up as much space in your own life as you let your friends take in theirs.

💌: EXTENDED+MOODBOARD (FREE)

Ready to bring those dreams closer? Hit play and feel the shift (FREE AUDIO): INTRO AUDIO : PROJECT 2025-Chapt.1 (888)

PILE 3

You have lost your partner a while ago while pregnant with your child. You have not been able to welcome love in your life. You prefer to keep everything casual. You even pushed away a very divine suitor because guilt is eating you up.

You’ve got this spark inside you, a fire that wants to grow, but you’ve buried it under all that guilt from the past. Losing him during such a vulnerable time must have left so many “what-ifs” and thoughts about what might’ve been. But here’s the thing: love and joy aren’t betrayals of his memory. By keeping your heart on lockdown, you’re not really honoring what could have been—you're stalling what still can be.

Imagine this as a chance to reclaim that energy for yourself and your future. Let yourself feel that spark again without guilt; you deserve to build something beautiful out of it, not just for you, but for the person you’re raising. Love isn’t moving on from the past; it’s expanding beyond it. It’s time to let yourself live fully, not in spite of him, but with the spirit of what he brought into your life.

💌: EXTENDED+MOODBOARD (FREE)

Ready to bring those dreams closer? Hit play and feel the shift (FREE AUDIO): INTRO AUDIO : PROJECT 2025-Chapt.1 (888)

[realmsalot]

Oh, How Forgetful Of You

"Did you see him," Caryn asks, breaking the heavy silence. "Did you see him before he died?"

"Yes," he answers truthfully. She already knows that it him who asked Stanley to come up here.

"Did ya two talk?" And he knows what she's hoping for. He knows what she's hoping he'll say.

Yes. We worked it out. We talked things through. We apologize to each other. He died knowing his twin loved him.

He doesn't have it in him to lie.

--------

Or my take on a reverse portal au. Enjoy :)

Edit: So this isn't done yet. I was writing this on Tumblr mobile and thought I saving this in my drafts when app decided to post it! So now I guess this is sneak peak for a really long oneshot I'm working on. So enjoy I guess. I will appreciate any feed back on this. Don't write your fics directly on Tumblr.

Edit Edit:

Started posting the actual fic. It's a chapter fic now. Ao3 link

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

It's a cold March day in Gravity Falls. There's a fresh layer of snow on the ground glistening in the cool sun. And yet, the signs of the upcoming spring are as clear as the current sky. The snow is a mere inch on the ground, no where near the hight it was earlier in the year. There are starts of new growth on the deciduous in the area and songs from a few individual birds of migrating species that came back a tad early.

It's a beautiful day.

Even at a funeral, he acknowledges that. He's pretty sure everyone else there does as well.

Stanford Pines stands in front of an empty grave, with a hallow coffin waiting to be put in by its side and staring at the name of his twin brother etch on the headstone.

He knows that the death date on the headstone is wrong. It says that his twin had died last week, when the Stanley Mobile had careened off a cliff and was later found with no body inside. When he sent it off that cliff with a cut of the breaks, a quick hot wiring of the car and the heaviest chunk of firewood he had on the pedal. Stan had loved that car. Ford remembers the face - the smile that Stan had when he first bought it at sixteen. He remembers Stanley shoving him into that car for the first time before they went for drive, where they drove it way too fast with the windows down and shouting kings of New Jersey at the top of their lungs to celebrate. Ford remembers the last time he got in that car, screwdriver in hand, and looking around for just a moment and seeing stolen motel bedding on the back seats and trash on the floor consisting of fast food wrappers, bags convince store snacks, and losing lottery tickets. Stanley had lived in that car.

And now, thanks to Ford, the only things left of that car are a burnt pile of metal in the dump, the license plate sitting on a table in his cabin, and an old photo he stole from the drivers visor.

The death date on the headstone is wrong, but Stanford doesn't know what the real date would be. By the time Stanley had come, Ford was so paranoid and sleep deprived he didn't know what day it was anymore. But he should know. Ford should know the date. Ford should know the date he sent his twin brother to his demise. And he hates that he doesn't.

A hand touches his shoulder, and Ford is startled out of his recently encrypted head. He looks over.

It's Ma. And she's staring at the headstone, too. They stay silent for a while.

When Ford saw her arrive, he was honestly surprised she came alone. He thought for sure that she would somehow drag Filbrick or Shermie along, but no. She came alone.

The only other guest that came, aside from Fiddleford who came here for Ford not Stan, was an IRS agent. (And Ford is pretty sure he heard him whisper to the, "I know you're not dead," while glancing at Ford. )

Did Stan really have no one?

"Did you see him," Caryn asks, breaking the heavy silence. "Did you see him before he died?"

"Yes," he answers truthfully. She already knows that it him who asked Stanley to come up here.

"Did ya two talk?" And he knows what she's hoping for. He knows what she's hoping he'll say.

Yes. We worked it out. We talked things through. We apologize to each other. He died knowing his twin loved him.

He doesn't have it in him to lie.

"We talked," he starts. Scenes of that night flash in his mind.

Stan's face filling with hope as Ford talks about their old childhood dream. The way it fell as Ford tells he to sail away.

"We argued..."

I'm giving you a chance to do the first worthwhile thing in your life and you won't even listen!

"We fought..."

Stanley’s scream as he kicks him back dowases the anger for a moment, and Fort starts to apologize. And then Stanley punches him in the face, and it all comes back.

"And then he..."

Stanley had pushed over the danger line. Now all Ford can see is the fear taking over his brother’s face as he floats up to the open maw of the portal. And Ford stupidity calls out for him to do something. To not let his creation- his mistake eat him.

And Stanley does.

He doesn't doesn't hesitate to jump and push Stanford away from the portal. Consequently pushing himself in. And all Ford could do is watch as his self made monster ate Stanley.

"...he left."

It's silent again for nothing but a moment before Caryn starts to sob. She pulls Stanford into a hug that he weakly returns and she cries into the hand-me-down suit his father gave him.

Ford's eyes don't leave the headstone again until long after the mostly empty coffin is buried.

He had killed his own brother.

.-- .... .- - / -.- .. -. -.. / --- ..-. / .- / -... .-. --- - .... . .-. / .- .-. . / -.-- --- ..-

Stanford had contacted Fiddleford not long after Stanley went through the portal.

He needed help to finish the mind encrypter because it was getting harder and harder to keep his eyes open and he knew that as soon as he closed them, Bill will come out and destroy it. He needed the mind encrypter to be finish and fast. He didn't know how much longer he could wait. So he went back to his ex-assistant, who (unfortunately) knows how to make machines that affect the mind best.

Ford was prepared to beg, having just lost a brother and just reached a breaking point that even his pride couldn't get to. But to his surprise, Fiddleford readily agreed. That was the second time that week someone whom he wouldn't want to see his again helped.

The mind encrypter got done in record time, and Stanford's mind was finally safe.

Then, for some reason, Fiddleford stuck around.

Then, for some reason, Fiddleford started acting like they're friends again.

[cloveroctobers]

STRAWBERRY CRUSH — STELLA KIDD [Spring Prompts]

A/N: alright, alright you caught me! I may or may not have a crush on Stella and thought it was only fair to write a little something since I am binge-watching after all—currently finishing up season six as I write this! In short: Yes we love Stellaride over here but this one specifically is for my wlw, you’re welcome!

PROMPTS ARE FROM HERE + I’m using: 6. “I am going to have a magical picnic and you can’t do anything to stop it!” “Yeah, but the bugs can.” + 16. “Your beauty outshines all the flowers.” “Are you sure? The flowers are really pretty this year.” 

WARNINGS: reader is a southern plant/earth lover, this is what it’s like to see Stella crushing but unsure, + written in MY version of HC’s/note form.

᠃ 𖡼᠂ 𖥧⚘ 𓅪 ⚘𖥧᠂ 𖡼᠃ ˖𓍢ִ໋ ᠃ 𖡼᠂ 𖥧⚘ 𓅪 ⚘𖥧᠂ 𖡼᠃ ˖𓍢ִ໋ ᠃ 𖡼᠂ 𖥧⚘

Strawberries require well drained soil, they must be placed on a gradual slope, and receive full sunlight in order to experience successful growth.

That’s something your grandfather first told you, once you were old enough to get into farming.

It’s never left your mind even with his passing and you always had the best eye when it came to picking produce.

Granted, picking that particular item in a mini mart in the city might not be the best choice but Stella made sure to put the red berry on the list.

She wanted the best snacks or else she would leave you hanging on this outing—just like she ditched her second date with the guy from 98–to be with you.

Stella can’t help but to catch a glimpse of you at the end of one aisle, you’re by the freezers now and you’re standing on your tippy toes, teal silk shirt raising above your fitted jeans and revealing tatted skin as you grab a beverage.

The height difference is something she has to get used to and often caught her mind thinking about whenever you were face to face and she would have to play it off as her being tired instead of daydreaming about what your lips would feel like.

“You ready, Stella star?” Your hip is bumping against hers before you carry on towards the registers.

It’s your own personal nickname for her and it has a cuteness to it with your contrast of a southern twang. However when each of you are out fighting fires, you on squad and her on her truck 81, she has to learn how not to miss it as much, as you go forth with using her last name like everyone else.

The man at the register jokes, “You ladies buying the whole store?”

You rack your red nails against the counter, “hm…you sell lottery tickets? My friend here is feeling lucky.”

“I mean, with a babe like you, who wouldn’t be?” He winks at you while Stella raises her brows with a cross of her arms.

He rings up two tickets before continuing with the rest of the items.

You and Stella are grabbing the bags before you say one last thing, “also it’s mango season so you may want to step it up with your mangoes since yours are rottin’ in the back, the last thing you want is for the insects to spread to the rest of the underwhelming products. Now, that’ll be all! You have a good one.”

Stella winks at the man for good measure who scowls at the both of you on your exit.

“His store is crappy anyway.” Stella sasses as the both of you load up her car some more, “There’s a way better one downtown, closer to lake shore.”

“Noted for next time.”

“Ohhh, look at you already thinking about spending more time with little ‘ol fabulous me?” Stella places a hand on her chest dramatically while she makes her way over to the driver’s side.

You smile as you open the passenger side, “what can I say? Maybe I just can’t get enough of you, Stella-Star.” Before climbing into the vehicle, leaving the dark haired woman to be impressed at your charm while also feeling her cheeks warm.

The drive to lake shore drive is full of Chicago’s vibrant buildings and singing along to the radio while you both smoothly move along with the traffic.

The ride felt shorter than it was, like time often felt between the two of you when you had the chance to have it.

Stella was definitely in her head about this, wondering if it was a date and knew chatting about it (unwillingly) with Otis and Joe was a lost cause so she chose to hit up your shared girl friends to see if you gave them any insight.

Gabby and Sylvie were 1000% sure it was a date—although they claim you didn’t say or gave much away when you causally brought it up. Stella even went as far to pick Cap and Tony’s brain before Severide could get a whiff and tease her about how awkward she was being.

Kelly was actually the first one to pinpoint that Stella was “drooling” over you and kept pushing for Stella to just go for it.

He would hint at things and then act like he wasn’t and that left Stella thinking maybe he was trying to set her up! to make a fool outta herself but she believed Kelly wouldn’t trick her like that, especially if this had the potential to be serious.

He had her back and she had his…they were good friends like that.

So when you approached after an extremely long shift with this idea, Stella almost collapsed to her knees.

The both of you rarely had alone time together, it was always in group settings but when you did share conversations privately—Stella felt something shift between you two recently and she was still trying to pinpoint when exactly that happened.

See…there she was being too much in her head about it!

“We should have brought some bikes out here,” Stella comments as she carries her portion of bags, glancing at the chicagoans who flew by on the biking path.

You shrug, “here’s the thing…I never could get that down.”

“What?!”” Stella is shocked, “aren’t you from the south? Don’t tell me you ran or walked everywhere with those roads? Or wait…rode horses?”

You snorted, “I never was much of a horse girl either since my ass and thighs always ended up hurting afterwards AND i watched one kick the jelly out of my Grammy! Call me traumatized from that point on. I left those things to my gramps and brothers to deal with while I spent time with the chickens and cows.”

“And the yams and green beans.” Stella jokes while you walk side by side, scoping out a good spot of greenery.

Pointing up ahead at a hill like portion that had a great view of the water and also the buildings behind you, ending up being the winner as the both of you headed towards the incline.

“I have you know that my family has won competitions for the best veggies! And if my Grammy was here, she’d show off her mountain of photos to you.” You’re stretching out some blankets, one of them being a incredibly soft birthday gift from Brett who claimed that she purchased it from a Portuguese woman who handmade it at the market.

“I’m not arguing with ya there,” Stella raises her hands in surrender, “you country folk are built different…can’t exactly say better but different!”

You scoff with a shake of your head, “you city slickers.”

Stella laughs to herself as you make yourself comfortable, sitting crossed legged before pulling a full on woven basket from behind you.

“Where the heck did you hide that?”

“Can’t reveal all my secrets can I?” You grin, happy that you could surprise her, “I am going to have a magical picnic and you can’t do anything to stop it!”

A picnic on lake shore was not entirely what Stella was expecting…honestly she had no clue what this day entailed besides the fact that all she needed was good snacks to be all in.

She’s getting ready to sit across from you but not without saying, “yeah, but the bugs can.”

“Don’t tell me thee Stella-Star is an afraid of a little green friend.”

“That ain’t no friend of mine,” Stella’s face is scrunched up as she watched the grasshopper get comfy on her portion of the blanket, “…can you uh—get it?”

You laugh, “really?” As you lean forward, holding out a bottle of water so the insect can crawl onto before you lead it elsewhere, “there. Nobody was harmed and everyone is safe.”

“You’re lucky I like you, otherwise I would have stomped its ass out,” Stella huffs as she plops down now staring at the bottle you used, “also that one is yours.”

“Understood,” you laugh once more before opening up the basket to reveal it contents, leaving Stella further impressed as she peeks inside.

It’s such a good day in Chicago, little birds chirping along, the spin on the bike wheels in the distance could still be heard up on the slope, while the wind brushes by from the lake and the sunlight still shined bright although the city’s buildings were as tall as they could be.

There’s a brief silence as you dive into the snacks and take turns from the jug that contained a berry lemonade you actually made, before falling into natural chatter.

It felt right being here with each other and it’s something you already knew that you would want to do again.

You never doubted that.

The sunlight was behind Stella whereas it shined over you. The both of you found that each of you were a beautiful sight to witness and Stella was just glad she chose to wear her hair back into a ponytail since the spring wind picked up every so often.

Soon you’re laying side by side now, just a inch of space in between your heads but close enough to feel the warmth from each other and for you to smell the amber, Tonka, and plum that radiates from her frame.

“You smell good, girl.” You comment, pulling yourself from zoning out while making Stella pry open her eyes.

The way you’re peering up at her, almost makes her choke on her own air. “Thanks,” she manages to wheeze out, “I picked it out myself!”

Stella knows she sounds silly but you find amusement in her pride nonetheless.

So she attempts to clean up, arm cradling the back of her head as a smirk appears on her lips at her next best idea with the compliment flying out of her lips, “Your beauty outshines all the flowers.”

There’s barely a daisy embedded in the grass somewhere up ahead but it’s the first thing that comes out of her pretty pouty lips.

You squint up at her as you question, “Are you sure? The flowers are really pretty this year.” 

You would know better than her with what’s in season and what not but something tells Stella, just by the way you break your stare that you may have some flaws you’re not too proud to speak about and that alone makes Stella frown a bit.

Before she can register what she’s doing, her fingers are reaching for your jaw, pulling your attention back to her’s, “are you kidding?! I’m damn sure and as corny as this is going to sound: you’d be my first flower I’d pick out of any garden. Anybody would and that’s because I said so! My word means a lot ya know?”

Your eyes shine like water but you don’t hold back a snort, “is does huh? Well I guess I have no choice but to believe you then.”

Stella’s chewing on her bottom lip now because there’s something in the air that’s telling her to just plant one on you.

“Stop me at any time,” she starts with a deep inhale, catching your eyes briefly on her mouth.

The corner’s of your mouth lift as you whisper, “do your worst, Stella-star.”

And with her lips on yours, you exhale as Stella breathes you in. Both hands are cupping your face as your lips move together in perfect unison and your hands shift from grasping her shoulder then down to her waist.

She’s watching your face in complete bliss when she decides to pull away but not fully, “was that okay?” She says against your lips.

“More than okay,” you nod at her with a beam before moving forward with another, “and I don’t think I said i was finished.”

Which leads into a full makeout session, and that’s something Stella is usually down for—especially if she’s had some drinks in her system but without the alcohol—she wouldn’t mind being drunk on you.

She’s on top of you now, and it quickly becomes a challenge of who gets to hold that position for the longest, erupting laughter between you two and Stella decides to cave once you both knock forehead’s.

You’re both panting now but there’s still laughter in your lungs and Stella is staring up at you adoringly, rubbing her head, while you caress the shape of her mouth, “what?” You quiz.

“You taste sweeter than I imagined.”

You smile, “so you thought about me in that way? I guess that means you really like me.”

“I couldn’t tell if you liked me!” Stella ran one hand over the top of her hair, clearly frustrated.

You snicker, “I thought I was pretty open with my flirtations but…I really like you too.”

And that’s all that matters to Stella as she’s pulling your face right back to hers.

Strawberries require well drained soil, they must be placed on a gradual slope, and receive full sunlight in order to experience successful growth.

᠃ 𖡼᠂ 𖥧⚘ 𓅪 ⚘𖥧᠂ 𖡼᠃ ˖𓍢ִ໋ ᠃ 𖡼᠂ 𖥧⚘ 𓅪 ⚘𖥧᠂ 𖡼᠃ ˖𓍢ִ໋ ᠃ 𖡼᠂ 𖥧⚘

Continue with my spring anthology prompts here.

[wolfiemcwolferson]

hello logan!! i have compe to prompt your wonderful brain into being nice again.

imagine photographer pierre putting together a set of his favorite pictures from the year and suddenly realizing that they're all of charles/related to charles. "uh oh, maybe i AM in love with my best friend" realization ensues

Oh, this made my brain go zoom.

The first year he had put together the series, it had been for his maman. She is the one who bought him that camera and he wanted to give her something physical to see that Pierre was indeed serious about this very serious investment.

In uni, it became a very logical way for him to look at his growth over the last year - to see what he had dabbled in and what was successful, what was not. It was a way to encourage him to continue to learn and grow and do better.

But, once he started working with Charles, it was really just for himself. Sure, he posted the series on his social media's and the engagement was off the charts for him, but he was sometimes moving so fast - sometimes it felt like he never put his camera down.

It was GP to GP, but in between there were sponsor shoots and private plane rides and intimate moments that Pierre wanted to keep somewhere because someday Charles would have books and documentaries and monuments dedicated to him, and that is what Pierre was here for - to document his life and these moments.

And he liked to look through them and be out of the camera for a bit.

This year he leaves it until the last minute, sorting photos from his childhood bedroom in the middle of the night, queueing them up so he can post them tomorrow.

One of Charles in his driver's room, head tilted to the side, eyes closed. It's more...intimate than any of the photos that Pierre had released to Ferrari or given to Charles to post from that weekend, but it's Pierre's favorite. The calm for him before the insanity of the weekend that would follow.

One of a discarded racing glove draped over Charles' red cell phone, half a cup of espresso next to it and a scribbled note that reads leave it all on the track.

Charles standing on a rock in the desert, face tipped up to sun, arms outstretched, looking more content than Pierre had ever seen him.

A blurred shot of Charles on a bicycle as he rides around the track in Britain - wearing that red Ferrari shirt - always red, always in red.

Charles leaning against the balcony of a hotel room in Italy, sweater rumpled and half tucked in the back of his pants because he has just woken up from a nap.

Charles in swim trunks on the yacht, Charles holding up a new bracelet from a sponsor and grinning not at the camera, but at Pierre behind the camera.

Charles.

Charles.

It's all Charles.

Charles at his best - standing on a podium, holding a trophy.

Charles at his lowest - sitting alone in the back of the plane flying out of Miami, hand wrapped up with an ice pack on the back and the next photos of the bruise blooming there being slipped into another pair of racing gloves.

Charles reaching for the camera, Charles rolling his eyes, Charles. Charles. Charles.

Pierre is meant to be putting together 10 photos to wrap up his year - 10 of his best photos.

But, the only thing he can do is stare at the screen and understand that this goes beyond photographing Charles.

The last photo before his family photos start is of Charles, curled up on his side, asleep.

Pierre had taken it on the couch - the night he slept over at Charles' place in Monaco. The light from the television has bathed him in a blue light and Pierre had remembered thinking how...beautiful he looked and so he had pulled his camera out, taken the photo before he had shaken him awake to go to bed.

Pierre looks at the way he framed the shot - how Charles' hand is in the corner of the shot and...

He takes these photos of Charles - photos of him sleeping and eating and driving and training and Pierre may have fallen in love with photography when he was a boy, but it was also the best way he knew how to show his love and...he should have seen it sooner.

He wasn't just documenting Charles' life, he was also showing his love to him the best way he knew how.

[jamtoasties3316]

lewis continuing to film nico during his pregnancy to "document" the growth of his little future champion. he and his followers love seeing nico's tits get bigger and fuller and the way his pussy is now constantly wet and puffy, always desperate for lewis' knot. some of the drivers leave their omegas at home once they're pregnant but lewis brings nico with him to all the races, partly as a reminder of his new place and partly so he always has access to him. he dresses nico in pretty dresses in his colors and sits him in the mercedes garage to watch the races, the race director always showing him sat there looking so pretty and demure, one hand cupping his baby belly at all times.

even when nico goes into labor the fia wants it to be filmed. nico is in so much pain because the fia won't allow their omegas to take drugs and he's so embarrassed that all of this is on camera for people to watch. lewis is both encouraging, telling him how strong he is and how well he's doing, and cruel, pinching his nipples and clit to make him writhe in pleasure and pain, and reminding him of all the practice he made nico to to stretch his pussy for this moment

For sure Nico would become such a submissive and demure omega when pregnant. Waddling around in pretty summer dresses emphasising his bump and everyone know he is hiding the wettest, puffiest cunt under there before they see it on the love stream every night! Nico is on his knees a lot in the paddock to suck Lewis off and moans softly when Lewis fingers him under his dress so everyone can hear how wet he is. Lewis also films himself fisting that beautiful pink pussy and Nico takes it so well!

Nico's labor being filmed too, the Omega naked in a pretty nest with Lewis next to him, playing with his nipples and clit a little cruelly but he says its to distract Nico! Everyone sees Nico's poor pussy struggle to make way for the baby but he does! And Lewis reassures everyone a few weeks later that Nico is already begging to be fucked again+

[tinyreviews]

Writing Tips: Redemption

Redemption arcs are not just about turning villains into heroes. In fact, redemption arcs can apply to any character, including the protagonist. 

Change: To create a compelling redemption arc, consider what needs to change within the character:

Change in Worldview: They may begin by seeing the world as cruel and unforgiving, but as the arc progresses, they discover that there are people who care about them and are willing to forgive their past actions. This shift in worldview can be a powerful motivator for change.

Change in Self-Perception: They may, at the start, believe they are irredeemable or fundamentally flawed but gradually come to realize their capacity for good. This shift in self-perception is a crucial aspect of their character development.

Change in Wants: At the heart of a redemption arc lies a transformation in the character's stakes and desires. Take the Beast from "Beauty and the Beast," for example. Initially resigned to his cursed fate and desiring solitude, he gradually shifts his wants toward a deep desire for Belle's love. This change in what a character values can be a powerful driver of redemption.

Character Growth: To make a redemption arc authentic and engaging, confront the character with a series of decisions that challenge their perceptions, worldview, and wants.

Conflict: Characters should be continually confronted by conflicting ideals, both old and new. This internal conflict adds depth to their journey and shows the struggle they face in changing.

Failure: Characters should make mistakes along the way. These failures not only create tension but also make their eventual triumph more satisfying. It's through these failures that they learn and grow.

Success: Ultimately, the character should succeed in their decisions. Their evolution should be marked by moments of triumph where they act on their newfound desires and beliefs.

Common Redemption Threads: While redemption arcs can take many forms, some common threads can help guide the storytelling.

Confronting Reality: Characters should be confronted with the harsh reality of their past actions. For instance, Tony Stark in the Marvel Cinematic Universe realizes the violent consequences of his weapons, which drives his desire for redemption.

Radical Change in Circumstances: Sometimes, a radical change in circumstances can propel a character toward redemption. Stark's captivity and forced weapon-making in the cave is a stark example of this.

Positive Influences: Characters often benefit from the presence of positive influences in their lives. In Stark's case, meeting Yinsen, who encourages him not to waste his life, plays a pivotal role in his transformation.

Atonement: To be fully redeemed, a character needs to atone for their past transgressions, regardless of whether the other characters forgive them. Examples of atonement:

Severus Snape (Harry Potter series): Snape, initially morally ambiguous, is revealed to be motivated by his love for Lily Potter. His ultimate act of atonement is sacrificing himself to protect Harry, proving his loyalty and redeeming his past mistakes.

Jean Valjean (Les Misérables): Valjean, an ex-convict, dedicates his life to helping others, demonstrates compassion and selflessness, and actively seeks to atone for his past actions. His redemption journey culminates in saving Marius at the barricades.

Jamie Lannister (Game of Thrones): Initially morally conflicted, Jamie questions his actions and seeks redemption. He protects Brienne of Tarth and fights against the Night King, showcasing the power of atonement in his character transformation.

This is part of my Writing Tips series. Everyday I publish a writing tip to this blog.

[coldresolve]

Moneymakers, pt.xxix // Returning

Previous / AO3 / Wattpad / Masterlist / Next

The further out of the city they get, the more Conrad’s anxiety grows, like a pit in his stomach expanding for each block passed, threatening to press against his diaphragm to interfere with his breathing. By the time they reach the suburbs, he’s crying.

It's a form of torture in and of itself, to be so close to freedom, so close he could almost reach out and grasp it. To watch people mill about their daily lives with zero clue as to their proximity to his situation. But Davin gave him another ultimatum. Either he followed along willingly, sitting quietly in the back seat of Renee’s car, on his best behavior – or, at the first sign of trouble, they’d bind and gag him and transport him in the trunk again.

And it’s not that he doesn’t understand that he very well could cause a scene that would catch the attention of other drivers – even with Renee sitting beside him in the back seat, he might have a feeble shot at doing something. And maybe if he wasn’t still sick, he’d have the energy to try. Conrad is just sick and tired. Tired of suffocating. Tired of desperation, of terror, of the persistent threat of violence.

He complies.

Is he supposed to feel ashamed about that?

Beside him, Renee sits silently, gaze fixed out the window on his side. After their conversation, he’s been reserved around Conrad, not interacting with him more than strictly necessary, and then doing so dispassionately, short of words. Conrad doesn’t want to dig around in it. That’s something else he’s tired of – the constant fight to convince his captors to have a shed of humanity. Maybe it just can’t be taught, or shown, or learned. He’s tried of failing.

They’re on the highway for about half an hour, and Conrad, still fighting the urge to cry, tries to at least enjoy the scenery a bit. It feels like it’s been years since he saw a field, and even if it is barren and bleak this time of year.

He watches flocks of migrating birds pass above, headed south for the winter. Watches clusters of cows or sheep grazing on misty fields. As they drive though a wooded area, he spots a herd of wild deer hopping through the underbrush at least a hundred and fifty yards out.

Maybe it does give him some peace. The fact that life goes on. That it doesn’t stop, even for what he’s been through. That beauty can still manifest in small ways here and there.

He tries to bottle that peace down as something he can take with him going forward, as something worth fighting for. If not for Howard or his dad, if not for the people who took time out of their day to search for him, or whoever else might have been affected by all this – at least for the mere continuation of life, to be an observer to growth and death and rebirth. Isn’t that enough?  

They reach the summer home neighborhood around noon. Conrad almost forgot what Renee’s parents house looked like from the outside – he wasn’t exactly paying attention the last time he was out here. The chalked white façade stands out among the other houses, contrasted by black frames around the windows and doors. It looks recently built, or at least freshly renovated, with dozens and dozens of pots scattered throughout the property, flowers wilted and dead.

Davin pulls the keys out of the ignition, and is quick to get out of the car before Conrad has so much as clicked off his seatbelt. Conrad looks up at the second story window, boarded up on the off chance a curious passer-by should see what happens inside. His stomach churns, but then Davin opens his door and gestures for him to get out.

Conrad hesitates.

Beside him, Renee lets out a breath through his nose. “If you so much as twitch in the wrong direction, I’m gonna beat you so bad you won’t be able to lie down afterwards. Follow Davin.”

The way he says it, monotonous compared to his usually near-manic flair, makes Conrad wince. When he gets out of the car, Davin gives him an apologetic smile, but nonetheless gently takes him by the arm.

Conrad feels like a man headed for the gallows as he is lead to the front door, and although he wishes he could bear that feeling with his head still held high, he can’t help himself from shutting down, feels his gaze come out of focus and drift to the ground. With Renee at his back and Davin to his side, he patiently waits for the latter to unlock the door. His feet drag over the threshold, and Davin locks the door behind him.

And just like that, he’s back in the form of captivity that’s so well known to him by now, it has a strange familial tint to it.

This house, these walls.

💵

Time passes silently, right up until the moment it suddenly doesn’t anymore. It shifts the second they come for him again, like a record getting stuck on the needle; Conrad feels as though the vinyl shatters into a million fragments.

They always bring him back to square one. Always back to that scared, bewildered state. Always back to realizing whatever progress he thought he’d made was for nothing. He starts shaking, and the words get stuck in his throat, and the amalgamated memory of all the previous streams comes flooding back into his head.

Conrad is frozen on the bed as they both enter his room.

Renee’s expression lack that sadistic, giddy spark today – more than anything, he just looks like a man set on completing a job. They’ve cut his cast off for the occasion, but he still keeps his arm at a right angle by stuffing his hand in the pocket of the black jacket he usually wears on the streams. In his other gloved hand, he’s dangling a set of handcuffs, which he throws on the bed next to Conrad.

“Hands in front this time around,” he says.

Conrad blinks at the cuffs, a feeling of nausea in his throat. “You want me to…?”

“I do, smartass. Cuff yourself.”

For a while, Conrad just stares at the cuffs like they’re a foreign object, as if they’re incomprehensibly complex. Slowly, he reaches out and loops his finger around the cold metal, pulling the handcuffs closer.

Renee lets out a groan. “Get a fucking move on.”

Wincing, Conrad bites down his nausea as he clicks one cuff over the abrasions on his left wrist, and then over the ones on his right. He looks up, seeking the gaze of Davin, only to be met by that detached seriousness that usually surrounds him on streams. He shouldn’t expect more from the man, he knows, and yet he always does.

Renee grabs him by the arm with his good hand, hauling him to his feet. “C’mon,” he says. Conrad stumbles along, walking backwards for a while to look Renee in the eyes, a plea stuck in his throat, but before he can say it out loud, Renee just grabs him by the shoulder to spin him back around, pushing him ahead of himself.

“I’m still sick,” Conrad says hoarsely in the hallway.

“Good for you,” Renee mutters, and doesn’t let him slow down his pace.

“Please, just, just give me a break from this,” Conrad whispers, and there’s tears in his eyes now. “Just this one time…”

The hand on his arm hauling him up the stairs doesn’t seem to care how wobbly his knees feel. His cuffed hands cling feebly to the railing, feet dragging up each step.

“You don’t have to do this, you know you don’t have to—”

On the plateau at the end of the stairs, the hand on his arm shifts to grab him by the front of his shirt, pushing him back-first into the wall. Renee’s sneer is unmistakable. “Are you gonna shut up on your own, or do I have to make you?”

Conrad lets out a whine, not meeting his eyes.

“Look at me, you fucking coward,” Renee growls low. The hand in his shirt pushes him further into the wall, he can feel knuckles brush ominously against his Adam’s apple.

Conrad reluctantly does.

Renee’s gaze is pitch black, piercing, and full of disgust. “Are you going to shut up?” he says. “Hm?”

Conrad nods.

“Say it.”

“I’m… I’m going to, to shut up.”

Renee doesn’t smile, even though Conrad is pretty sure he normally would in a moment like this. Instead his sneer fades a bit, and he nods to himself. “About time you fucking did.”

And he pulls Conrad along into the second story room.

Previous / Masterlist / Next

[tiny-elf-of-doom]

A Man & His Car 🖤

Good Omens fanfiction

Crowley x The Bentley (yes, really)

Best if you listen to I’m In Love With My Car by Queen while reading!

Nsfw 🔞 MDNI: m@sturbation, dirty talk, descriptions of s€x, & a sassy 1926 Bentley.

Crowley lounged back against the upholstery. He loved the way his car purred when it was given the right attention. Using two, thin fingers, the demon lined the CD slot from left to right, slathering it in a cleaner he kept under the seat. The Bentley surged from his touch, flashing the front lights as darkness approached.

“You like it when I play with you, isn’t that right, love?”

Another roar and the steering wheel turned sharply to the left, cutting off a rather displeased driver. Steam gathered under the immortal wheels as the car sped into the distance, pushing through the heart of London to where the M-25 began its course. Crowley loved it when his Bentley pushed her limits on the speedometer, swerving from one lane to another with ninety years of demonic ease. The demon managed to see her reflection in one of the vehicles to his right- holy hell, what a looker. He admired her vintage curves which were made far shapelier by the black paint job.

The radio began to play, I see a line of cars and they’re all painted black.

Bentley’s design had been what drew him to her in the mid-1920s, but it was her attitude that made him stay. He tightened his grip on the wheel, clenching his jaw as she pushed ninety. A growth had begun to rise from behind the seam of Crowley’s trousers and his car took notice. The radio whizzed out of nowhere once more, searching the inserted CD for the perfect song. She finally found what she was searching for, eventually, and it was then that Crowley realized the Bentley still had a wicked sense of humor.

When I’m holding your wheel

All I hear is your gear.

The demon laughed as they passed a rather large bus traveling the highway. “You’re a naughty thing! Do you want me to have a wank while you drive?”

This time, the Bentley growled.

Crowley did have a feel for this automobile, especially when she was all fired up and ready for action. How could he have turned her down? Taking his time unbuckling his trousers, the demon finally pulled out his cock which had just started to turn a bright shade of red. The Bentley’s wheel suddenly steered on its own as Crowley laid along his front seat. He gave himself a few short strokes before tugging at himself more feverishly while the Bentley pushed a hundred. They went in their first circle when Crowley allowed his voice to carry through the car.

“I do fancy you, Bentley…” Crowley hiccupped through a rather loud moan. “You’re my car, I bought you from new, you will always get me where I need to go… such a beautiful thing you’ve turned out to be, love.”

He caressed her upholstery, taking in the detailed lines and that fresh car smell that had never went away. Like a bottle of perfume, it had become her signature scent and one of Crowley’s most familiar comforts.

“Now that we got the mushy shit out of the way, I want you drive like you mean it. I’ll take care of the rest.” Crowley whined when the engine revved. “Good girl.”

Suddenly, the M-25 became barren. Not a car could be seen besides the Bentley, which gave her plenty of room to drive. Crowley knew he had to watch when her wheels screamed against the pavement. He lifted himself up behind the wheel once again, staring as she made the streetlights connect in a flurry. His chest tightened with delight seeing her so excited; so free. Crowley sat back and allowed her to guide him as he pleasured himself. She rumbled from under his grip on the gear shift, playing her music higher and higher until it flooded the enclosed space.

Crowley’s cock wept, leaking from the head as the Bentley turned around the bend of the road. The pounding of her mechanic heart was unbearably sexual. Her tires shrieking as she hit a hundred and ten threw the demon’s head back in pure ecstasy.

“Yes, baby, keep going, drive until I come,” Crowley whined.

The car would not disappoint. It was nearing its second loop when Crowley’s movements became flustered. They neared the exit to Mayfield.

“Almost there, Bentley,” he assured while giving the gear shift a few accompanying strokes. The car was already losing itself to the demands of her driver, but didn’t wish to stop, not when he was this close. She turned rubber into dust as Crowley screamed at the top of his lungs, working his hand to the point of agony. “Yes, yes! Fuck yes, I love you, baby!”

The driver came in a full body wave of pleasure. His hips bucked into the wheel, bringing the vehicle to swerve slightly, left and right. There had been the exit and the Bentley rushed into the softly lit road ahead; one that hadn’t been doused in tire tracks. A snap from Crowley’s thin fingers brought the traffic back to the highway once they were far, far away from the bustle of Central London. Both the demon and his car were exhausted, but it was mainly his prized antique that needed the break.

“Stunning work,” Crowley patted the wheel, then took it into his hands. The car radio wobbled, which was the best way of putting it. “Sorry, baby, I know you’re still sensitive. Let me get us home.”

And they drove off into the night, satisfied with one another as a man and his car.

[opiatemasses]

Breaking Boundaries or Breaking Point? Joey Barton's Diatribe on Women Football Commentators

In the evolving world of football broadcasting, the game's flow is complemented and enriched by the voices describing its details. Recent comments regarding female broadcasters within men’s football made by former footballer Joey Barton has created uproar. As football fans we are not merely spectators, we are active participants, engaging in a larger conversation that helps to shape our experiences of the beautiful game. Interestingly, Barton’s recent remarks extend further than a single conversation: his comments added fuel to existing, wider conversations about diversity. Are we witnessing a necessary evolution in football commentary, or has the push for diversity reached considerable challenges?

What is happening?

Barton’s recent remarks, that began on the social media ‘X’ have sparked numerous reactions across the football community and beyond. Essentially, he is rejecting the idea of women having commentary roles in men’s football, branding this to be part of a broader ‘woke agenda’. His statements are not merely personal observations, deliberately stirring discussion about wider societal change and gender dynamics in the world of football broadcasting.

Joey Barton argues that he’s not against women because of their gender; he doesn’t like the principle of women being awarded roles that are important in men’s football as a way of showing people that they are inclusive. He believes that in football commentary people should be selected based solely on their skillset even if that means that there will be no women.

History of Women in Football Commentary

Sports commentary has had a long history of unequal treatment based on gender. Women have had a tough time getting into commentary for many years, and when they do their contributions are often not appreciated or taken seriously. Old-fashioned, stereotypical ideas and conventions about what men and women should do have shaped people’s perceptions of women football commentators. Barton’s comments fit into a similar narrative from history, where women are kept on the sidelines, trying hard to overcome long-standing prejudices. As described by Ali Bowes et al 2023 the increased inclusion of women as pundits in televised match coverage has been a gradual process.  In 2007 Jacqui Oatley became the first female football commentator on the television programme Match of the Day since its origins in 1964. The next female was former England International Eniola Aluko, breaking ground in 2014 as the first women in this presenting role. Aluko notably contributed to the television coverage of the 2018 World Cup, pushing her into the media spotlight.

Women reporters have often found it challenging to get players and coaches and even the audience to see them as reporters first and women second. A study made by Swanson 2009 was conducted where he interviewed female journalists. He found that they “spoke of a love or passion for sports” with the majority playing one or more sports in the past. This discredits the suggestion that women commentators are less knowledgeable, qualified, and professional than their male counterparts.

Has there been improvement?

Over a five-year span there has been an increasing number of female pundits. Looking at the research from David Lenton 2022 he identified that the presence of women covering men’s games, either as commentators or pundits has seen remarkable growth. It grew 5650% from 2016/17 to 2020/21 (from 12 appearances to 690). Two seasons ago (2020/21) saw 2500 male commentators and pundits appearing in all televised men’s games - a difference of 1810. While the female representation has grown dramatically, there is still a huge gap to fill.

Push for diversity

The push for diversity is a vital aspect of progress in the sports industry. It helps to break down historical barriers and provide opportunities for individuals regardless of gender. The drivers behind the push include the recognition that talent and expertise are not limited by gender but can be found in individuals with diverse backgrounds and experiences. Alex Scott is a brilliant example of this. After retiring from football in 2017 she broke major barriers by becoming the first female football pundit at the World Cup for the BBC and joined Sky Sports Super Sunday as the first female pundit. Findings from 2017 found that 88.5% of sport reporters were male which makes Alex Scott’s achievement even more impressive.

Like any significant shift, there can be unintended consequences. As depicted by Burch et al 2023, even with female commentator's obvious expertise they often face scepticism about their knowledge and competence in sports. Additionally the rise of online platforms has exposed them to a wave of harassment and abuse, perpetuating a hostile and discouraging environment. However, within the industry the ongoing efforts to promote gender equality are evident. Gender pay gaps still persist, with female journalists earning less than their male counterparts for similar roles and responsibilities.

Some people support Barton and say that everyone has a right to an opinion. However, many others like me disagree with Barton’s outspoken standpoint. Football commentary and broadcasting should be platforms that embrace diversity and inclusivity. Dismissing the idea of women having roles in football commentary sustains current biases and contributes to the ongoing issue of sexism in football commentary. He pointed out how you need to play football at a high level to be able to talk about it, however there are many talented women broadcasters that didn’t play football at all. A couple that spring to my mind is Kate Abdo and Laura Woods. This makes me question whether Barton’s idea of who is ‘Credible’ is more about keeping things the way they’ve always been and maintaining sexism in football commentary.

So what is the solution? Football commentary has always been opinionated people sharing their opinions more than sharing facts. Fans may watch certain sport shows because they like personalities such as the CBS Sports Champions League Show, which is full of personalities including the likes of Thierry Henry, Micah Richards, Jamie Carragher and Kate Abdo. What arguably makes the show entertaining is that they are brilliant personalities while also reporting on the football. This has nothing to do with their gender which is why I don't understand Joey Barton's sexist comments.

Seeing change in the future

Football, as a dynamic and influential part of our cultural landscape, provides a unique platform for connection, dialogue and debate. Barton’s comments have sparked discussions reflecting the extremes within the football community. On one side, fans unite with a shared goal of supporting one another; while on the other side, you have people's passion which blinds their negative comments and viewpoints.

The necessary evolution in football commentary demands a positive change in fan engagement. Supporters should channel their voices to drown out the negativity. Embracing this shift will not only enhance the fan experience but also contribute to creating an inclusive and supportive environment within the realm of football commentary.

What’s your take on Joey Barton’s Views? Is the push for diversity in football commentary a necessary evolution, or does it risk undermining the credibility of the sport? Share your thoughts below and join the conversation.

N0993793

[realmsalot]

Oh, How Forgetful Of You

Fic Summary

After Stanley Pines falls through the portal, saving his brother in the process, Stanford has to make the hard choice of leaving him behind, reconnecting with his ex-assistant, and dismantling the portal. But after attending the equally fake and pitiful funeral held for his twin, Ford gets consumed by guilt and starts to remake his decision. Only for it to be unknowingly taken from him.

There's a hole in his mind where his brother should be...

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

Or my take on a Reverse Portal AU! Specifically about why it takes Ford thirty years to get Stan back. Enjoy!

Ao3 link

next chap

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

Chapter 1 Morse

Chapter Summary

It's a beautiful day at the Gravity Falls Cementary and a too-small group of people gather around a meaningless grave...

Or Stanford attends Stanley's funeral.

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

It's a cold March day in Gravity Falls. A chill breeze in the air and a fresh layer of snow on the ground glistens in the cool sun. And yet, the signs of the upcoming spring are as clear as the current sky. The snow is a mere inch on the ground, nowhere near its height earlier in the year. There are starts of new growth on the deciduous trees in the area, and there are songs from a few individual birds of migrating species that came back a tad early.

It's a beautiful day. 

Even at a funeral, he acknowledges that. He's pretty sure everyone else there does as well.

Stanford Pines stands in front of an empty grave, with a hollow coffin waiting to be put in by its side, and staring at the name of his twin brother etched on the headstone. 

He knows that the death date on the headstone is wrong. It says that his twin had died last week when the Stanley Mobile had careened off a cliff and was later found with no body inside. When he sent it off that cliff with a cut of the breaks, a quick hot-wiring of the car, and the heaviest chunk of firewood he had on the pedal. 

Stanley loved that car. 

Ford remembers the face - the smile that Stan had when he first bought it at sixteen. “With my own money too, Sixer!” Stan had exclaimed. He remembers Stanley shoving him into that car for the first time before they went for a drive, where they drove it way too fast with the windows down and shouting Kings of New Jersey at the top of their lungs to celebrate. He remembers watching Stanley leave in that car through closed curtains, yelling about how he doesn’t need anyone before disappearing for ten years.

Ford remembers the last time he got in that car, screwdriver in hand, looking around for a moment and seeing stolen motel bedding on the back seats and trash on the floor consisting of fast food wrappers, bags of convenience store snacks, and crumple piles of losing lottery tickets. He remembers looking through the glovebox in search of some form of identifying information for his plan only for a plethora of fake IDs to spill out. He remembers pulling down the driver’s visor so it would be less obvious that no one was driving the car and… just sitting there for a while. Numb.

Stanley lived in that car. 

And now, thanks to Ford, the only things left of that car are a burnt pile of metal in the dump, the license plate sitting on a table in his cabin, and an old photo he stole from the driver's visor. 

‘The plan wouldn’t have worked if I wasn’t the Stanley Mobile,’  Ford reminds himself. ‘There is simply no other car that would be believable for Stan to die in.’

The death date on the headstone is wrong, but Stanford doesn't know what the real date would be. By the time Stanley had come, Ford was so paranoid and sleep-deprived that he didn't know what day it was anymore. But he should know. Ford should know the date. Ford should know the date he sent his twin brother to his demise. And he hates that he doesn't. 

A hand touches his shoulder, and Ford is startled from his recently encrypted head. He looks over. It's Ma. And she's staring at the headstone, too. They stay silent for a while. 

When Ford saw her arrive, he was honestly surprised she came alone. He had assumed that she would somehow drag Filbrick or Shermie along, but no. She came alone.

The only other guest that came, aside from Fiddleford who came here for Ford not Stan, was an IRS agent. (Ford is pretty sure he heard the agent whisper to the coffin, "I know you're not dead," while glancing at Ford. ) 

‘Did Stan really have no one?’

"Did ya see him," Caryn asks, breaking the heavy silence. "Did ya see him before he died?"

"Yes," he answers truthfully. She already knows that he had asked Stanley to come up here. But she doesn’t know that there isn’t a body in the casket. She doesn’t know what happened to her son. She doesn’t know anything– all because Ford is a terrible son who couldn’t tell her the truth when she called asking if Stanley had come by yet.

"Did ya two talk?" And he knows what she's hoping for. He knows what she's hoping he'll say. 

Yes. We worked it out. We talked things through. We apologize to each other. He died knowing his twin loved him.

He doesn't have it in him to lie to her again.

"We talked," he starts scenes of that night flash in his mind. 

Stan's face filled with hope as Ford talked about their old childhood dream. The way it fell when Ford told him to sail away. 

"We argued..."

I'm giving you a chance to do the first worthwhile thing in your life and you won't even listen!

"We fought..."

Stanley’s scream as he kicks him back dowses the anger for a moment, and Fort starts to apologize. And then Stanley punches him in the face, and it all comes back.

"And then he..."

Stanley had pushed over the danger line. Now all Ford can see is the fear taking over his brother’s face as he floats up to the open maw of the portal. And Ford stupidly calls out for him to do something. To not let his creation- his mistake eat him. 

And Stanley does. 

He doesn't hesitate to jump and push Stanford away from the portal. Consequently pushing himself in. And all Ford could do was watch as his self-made monster ate Stanley. 

"...he left."

It is silent again for nothing but a moment before Caryn starts to sob. She pulls Stanford into a hug that he weakly returns and cries into the hand-me-down suit his father gave him. Ford's eyes don't leave the headstone again until long after the mostly empty coffin is buried. 

He had killed his brother. 

- .... .- - .----. ... / .. - ..--.. ..--. / -.-- --- ..- / ..-. .. -. .- .-.. .-.. -.-- / .-- .- -. -. .- / ... . . / -- . / .- ..-. - . .-. / - . -. / -.-- . .- .-. ... / .- -. -.. / .. - .----. ... / - --- / - . .-.. .-.. / -- . / - --- / --. . - / .- ... / ..-. .- .-. / .- .-- .- -.-- / ..-. .-. --- -- / -.-- --- ..- / .- ... / .--. --- ... ... .. -... .-.. . ..--. ..--..

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

A/N:

This was originally going to be a long one-shot but I decided to split it up into chapters after Tumblr posted an early version of this chapter early. Don't write your fics directly on Tumblr Moblie folks! Anyways uh, if you're reading this as soon as this chapter is released chapter 2 is done. You won't be seeing ch 2 until ch 3 is done as well though.

I hope you enjoy the chapter! It's gonna get worse before it gets even a crumb better. Comments/Reblogs are always appreciated even if I don't always reply to them. Love ya all <3<3<3

[sebrrari]

Hi! If it's okay to ask, what's the context behind the tags you have (honeycomb; dandelion) for certain drivers? They're really nice!!

hi omg this is so nice! also there's another anon in my inbox about this - if it was you sorry i took longer to answer!!! i wanted to be on my computer for this so i could type this all out! and if it wasn't you hi other anon, thanks for being so patient!!!

ok so basically - it's a hold over from being on tumblr in like 2010. [insert "back in my day" anecdote here]. the tagging system was waaaay different back then, and if you didn't want your posts (even reblogs) to show up in the main tag (that antis combed to reblog and hate on stuff, or maybe you just wanted some goddamn privacy), people made their own tags so that they could search just that.

also, it's fun.

here's what mine mean to me - i’m the kind of person that operates very much off of vibes, so some of these are more literal and some of these are just absolute bullshit that i came up with in my soup brain. 

lewis hamilton: #dandelion - something that can grow even in the toughest of conditions. people often treat these like weeds, but they're some of the most nutritious (for humans and for other plants), easy to cultivate, and beautiful flowers in the northern hemisphere. in flower symbology, they're a symbol of hope, growth, and healing. their little seeds can travel for over a kilometer to bring life to more than just themselves. maybe you can see where i'm going with this.

sebastian vettel: #honeycomb - a marvel of nature. bees created something that took man thousands of years to understand. symbolically, beehives represent cooperation - and the fact that a hive of bees can create such a flawless, useful structure on their own and for their use just amazes me. obviously, seb and bees. but more than that, the way that bees are remarkably adaptable. and a wonder of the natural world. and that honeycomb structures are physically hardy and able to be scaled up and up without losing the core that it began with. something like that. 

daniel ricciardo: #sweet and sour - this one is a little silly. sweet and sour is my favorite type of dipping sauce (thai sweet chili, honey fermented garlic, plum sauce, etc.). it goes with anything. sometimes it seems out of place, but it can make or break a taste profile (yeah i’m going with the tasting notes for something you dip french fries in sue me). it’s a rare combination in nature, but when you find it it’s an absolute treat. think kiwis, key limes, meyer lemons. little gems of their own that don’t always get enough credit. 

charles leclerc: #the taste of paradise - lyrics from “sad child” by brother leo and sandro cavazza which is on pierre’s f1 spotify playlist. charles is like a character you wish you wrote. he’s born from greatness, in a place that lots of people consider a paradise of excess. he’s gifted from the start. his nickname is literally something out of a YA fantasy coming of age book. but when you’ve had the taste of paradise and then have bad luck and struggles and loss like he has, does it taste bitter? does he resent the thing he’s experienced and the places he’s come from? is all worth the chase of his paradise (the championship)? i love my little depression, angst, and burdened by destiny mouse. mwah

nico rosberg: #crown prince - he’s racing royalty. he was in line to be the next crowned since the day he put his ass in a kart seat. but his life is forever intertwined with a challenger for his throne. the befriend each other and they are at each other’s throats. he gets his crown, but then quits the sport entirely. he just needed to catch the golden ring. but did the then get to let go? or is he still sagging under the weight of greatness? 

lewis/nico: #violent delights - they have violent ends, bro. like fire and powder which as they kiss consume, bro!

max/daniel: #equinox - when i first joined f1 there was a beautiful series of art pieces going around of drivers as tarot cards, and the artist cast max as the moon and daniel as the sun. i was obsessed with it. i love the idea of them as polar opposites, traveling on the track over and over again, day after day, and it’s not clear who is chasing who. and an equinox is the day in a year where they’re perfectly balanced when day and night are of equal(ish) length. they are equals on those days, neither of them winning or losing the chase. 

seb/mark: #whether the medicine is enough - i was writing analytics and found this bonkers quote from mark that he gave after the 2013 malaysian grand prix. he says he’s going to go surfing as medicine to soothe the wound of multi-21. and he doesn’t know if it will be enough to let it go. i think “whether x is enough” is a theme in the way i dissect martian. is their love enough, their raw attraction enough, their manners, their forgiveness, their history enough to see them through to a place where they can stay together? i say yes, because they’re down so fucking bad for each other. but i love to pull at the threads that they’ve woven together to grow close and see which one might be loose. 

daniel/charles: #true blues - the saying means “the real thing.” the fall out boy song ginasfs twists it to mean true blues as in true sadness, true longing, blue eyes, nostalgia, going out with a bang, not being able to let go of something that was just a flash in the pan for someone else. i love taking their vegas trip and projecting on it, basically. see: there is a ghost at the end of this song.

thank you so much for asking and sorry this is a fucking essay!!!! and if there's a driver or ship that i blog about but haven't made a tag for yet, it's because inspiration hasn't struck. my smick and my sebastidan and my michael schumacher tags are desperate for a personal touch but i just haven't found the ones.

[laresearchette]

Friday, March 17, 2023 Canadian TV Listings (Times Eastern)

WHERE CAN I FIND THOSE PREMIERES?: EXTRAPOLATIONS (Apple TV +) MONSTER FACTORY (Apple TV +) BOSTON STRANGLER (Disney + Star) LEAVE (Shudder) POWER BOOK II: GHOST (Starz Canada) 10:00pm WHAT IS NOT PREMIERING IN CANADA TONIGHT? NANNY DEAREST  (TBD - Lifetime Canada) PUT A RING ON IT (TBD - OWN Canada)

NEW TO AMAZON PRIME CANADA/CBC GEM/CRAVE TV/DISNEY + STAR/NETFLIX CANADA:

AMAZON PRIME CANADA ANGEL FLIGHT CLASS OF ‘07 DOM (Season 2) DETECTIVE KNIGHT: INDEPENDENCE LAST LIGHT THE NIGERIAN TRADE SWARM

CBC GEM FAIT DIVERS (Season 3 and 4) I AM SYD STONE

CRAVE TV THE AMAZING SPIDER-MAN THE AMAZING SPIDER-MAN 2 DANGEROUS LIAISONS (198) A DOLPHIN TALE JUST FOR LAUGHS 2022: THE GALA SPECIALS — CHELSEA HANDLER THE MAURITANIAN POWER BOOK II: GHOST (Season 3) SEE HOW THEY RUN SPIDER-MAN SPIDER-MAN 2 SPIDER-MAN 3 SPIDER-MAN: HOMECOMING

DISNEY + STAR BONO AND THE EDGE: A SORT OF HOMECOMING WITH DAVE LETTERMAN BOSTON STRANGLER

NETFLIX CANADA AGENT ELVIS DANCE 100 IN HIS SHADOW MAESTRO IN BLUE THE MAGICIAN’S ELEPHANT NOISE SKY HIGH: THE SERIES

NCAA MEN’S BASKETBALL (TSN/TSN5) 12:00pm: March Madness: First Round (TSN)  6:00pm: March Madness: First Round (TSN4) 10:00pm: March Madness: First Round

NCAA WOMEN’S BASKETBALL (TSN3) 12:00pm - 10:00pm: March Madness: First Round

MLB BASEBALL (SN) 1:00pm: Phillies vs. Jays

TENNIS (TSN2) 6:00pm: WTA 1000 Tennis: Indian Wells - Semifinals (TSN2) 9:00pm: WTA 1000 Tennis: Indian Wells - Semifinals

WBC BASEBALL (SN) 7:00pm: Quarter-Final #3

NHL HOCKEY (SN1) 7:00pm: Sabres vs. Flyers (TSN4) 7:00pm: Hurricane vs. Leafs (SN1) 10:00pm: Blue Jackets vs. Ducks

NBA BASKETBALL (SN Now) 7:30pm: Warriors vs. Hawks (SN Now) 10:30pm: Mavericks vs. Lakers

MARKETPLACE (CBC) 8:00pm: Retail Tricks / Buzzkill: Balloons: Testing the sizing of jeans; putting the safety of motorcycle helmets to the test; and eco-friendly alternatives to balloons. Reporters: Rosa Marchitelli/Charlsie Agro

STREET OUTLAWS: FASTEST IN AMERICA (Discovery Canada) 8:00pm (SEASON PREMIERE): The title of Fastest in America is up for grabs with new teams, new cars and new rules; the eight captains each choose two drivers to compete in a 16-car bracket; the goal is to go fast, stack cash and be the last driver standing.

PUSH (CBC) 8:30pm: Relationship drama finds Bean as the Wheelie Peeps bring it to the runway. Brian says a hard goodbye to a past life.

THE NATURE OF THINGS (CBC) 9:00pm: War for the Woods: Thirty years after historic logging protests on Vancouver Island, the battle to protect old growth forests is still raging.

THE SPENCER SISTERS (CTV) 9:00pm: Darby and Victoria are hired by a former schoolmate of Darby's to investigate acts of vandalism at his winery.

THE REAL HOUSEWIVES OF DURBAN (Slice) 9:00pm: LaConco discusses her high-profile relationship with Mabusi.

THE MAURITANIAN (Crave) 9:00pm:  A defense attorney, her associate and a military prosecutor uncover a far-reaching conspiracy while investigating the case of a suspected 9/11 terrorist imprisoned at Guantanamo Bay, Cuba, for six years.

CRIME BEAT (Global) 10:00pm: The Hired Hit: When former beauty queen Alexandra Pesic is gunned down in a brazen daylight shooting on a midsummer evening in 1992, a quiet community in a suburb of Vancouver, B.C. is stunned; evidence of a contract killing is found motivated by greed and hate.

[the-foolish-scholar]

Temperance

The Temperance card is the 14th card in the Major Arcana. It details a point in The Fool's journey where they've learned the value of having temperance. The angel is a symbol of devotion and love and its red wings represent wise counsel. The halo on the head showcases divinity while the solar symbol on the angel's crown indicates clarity of thought. The white dress depicts the purity of intention. Having one foot on the ground and one in the water symbolize the connection between the emotional and physical world. The flow of water between the two cups references the flow of life. The green color in the card represents growth. The sun that rises over the distant mountains symbolizes the energy required to move forward and the promise of a new day. It also hints to the card's viewers that the path of life always heading towards success. The mountains, like in The Fool card, represent obstacles/the goals that one may have in life. There are also two iris flowers in bloom with their yellow color referencing the wisdom and passion required in maintaining temperance.

-

This morning, I woke up to the tail end of a beautiful song playing on the radio and I rushed to open my Shazam app figure out what it was called. Luckily enough, I was able to figure out that it was "La Gloria Eres Tú" covered by Los Tres Diamantes. I got up, made myself a cup of coffee, and considered how fortunate I was to be living in an age where I could wake up to the sound of music and then use technology to assist me to find out what song I was hearing. It reminded me of a conversation I had with Evan right before leaving the country, I said how I wished I could have been alive in the 70s so I could have gone to discos and enjoy disco music at it's peak; but he countered saying how thankful he was to live in an age where he could request any song to play on his phone and easily make playlists without having to deal with cassette tapes.

It's easy for me to romanticize the past, because I didn't have to live in it. I think I view the past like most people view the future. In the past, social movements actually achieved things, and today, it seems like all they do is fail. For example, the police still get away with killing whoever they want and when the populace responds with justified outrage, they only get more violent. I'm tired of seeing the world burn down while so many around me pretend that we've made progress.

I know I wouldn't be able to exist as I do today without the efforts of the past's activists. They put in hard work so that women could have their own bank accounts, so that children from different backgrounds could come together and learn in the same schools, and so that we could love whoever we wanted to love. But I can't help but feel like it's just a sham sometimes. Women can own their own banks accounts, but what is the point when the wage gap exists and many women still depend on men to survive? Schools are no longer segregated by the law, but statistics show that they're more segregated today than ever before. And can you really love whoever you want to love when doing so puts you at a heightened risk for murder? I hate to be a pessimist, but it just seems like so many of the victories we celebrate are hollow. How will we ever make them whole when the majority of the population refuses to acknowledge the truth?

On Monday, I had a meeting with my contact at the embassy to get my student visa. We talked about the state of exception here in El Salvador and how it parallels (and differentiates from) the time leading up to the Salvadoran Civil War. I'll have to go back to the embassy in the coming weeks for an official security briefing but I was also given some advice on Monday about how to keep myself safe.

I avoid political discussions with strangers, but every once in a while, usually with taxi drivers, I find myself in one. It usually starts with them asking me about what I think about the country, me discussing the beauty of the beaches and the flavorfulness of the food, and then them bragging about how El Salvador is the safest nation in Latin America now. Nine times out of ten, they express their support for the state of exception and how it's eradicated the gang problem. I am glad that they are able to feel secure and safe from gangs after so much time being terrorized by them. I have had one taxi driver break from the pack, albiet covertly though. When I explained to him why I was here and what I was studying, he began to tell me about how the government has historically responded towards student protests that took place during the war, pointing out different historical sights, urging "Es importante que no olvidemos el pasado, para no repetirlo" or "It is important that we do not forget the past, so that we do not repeat it".

But, in spite of everything, I still have hope. People like that one taxi driver exist all around us; they're just too busy working to survive to be able to create change. It's not impossible to change the world, we just need to cultivate the right conditions for it.

For example, at lunch the other day with some friends, we spoke about the fight to foster equity and inclusion within solidarity work and social movements. If we don't nurture the people that are "fighting the good fight" we'll never create something that is sustainable. We acknowledged that it'll be hard work but that it is within the realm of possibilities with time, patience, and proper preparation.

I'm so extremely grateful for the education I've received from the Urban Cohort at Miami University and for all of the wisdom my professors and mentors from other parts of my life have passed on to me.

With the guidance of previous generations, my generation is able to begin the process of building something that will stand strong up against that which seeks to destroy it. The stars are on our side—just wait until the 2050s.

And until then, there's so much fruit to eat, so many animals to play with, so many sunsets to watch, and so many songs to dance to!

Z