#i felt so encouraged and uplifted. she’s incredible

[theresa-of-liechtenstein]

literally outperformed half the class on the mechanics midterm but still got a 58.5/100. hashtag engineering life

[missamericame19842023]

Wow, I had no idea about the origin story of Rudolph the Red-Nose Reindeer! If you aren't familiar with it either, read below:

As the holiday season of 1938 came to Chicago, Bob May wasn’t feeling much comfort or joy. A 34-year-old ad writer for Montgomery Ward, May was exhausted and nearly broke. His wife, Evelyn, was bedridden, on the losing end of a two-year battle with cancer. This left Bob to look after their four-year old-daughter, Barbara.

One night, Barbara asked her father, “Why isn’t my mommy like everybody else’s mommy?” As he struggled to answer his daughter’s question, Bob remembered the pain of his own childhood. A small, sickly boy, he was constantly picked on and called names. But he wanted to give his daughter hope, and show her that being different was nothing to be ashamed of. More than that, he wanted her to know that he loved her and would always take care of her. So he began to spin a tale about a reindeer with a bright red nose who found a special place on Santa’s team. Barbara loved the story so much that she made her father tell it every night before bedtime. As he did, it grew more elaborate. Because he couldn’t afford to buy his daughter a gift for Christmas, Bob decided to turn the story into a homemade picture book.

In early December, Bob’s wife died. Though he was heartbroken, he kept working on the book for his daughter. A few days before Christmas, he reluctantly attended a company party at Montgomery Ward. His co-workers encouraged him to share the story he’d written. After he read it, there was a standing ovation. Everyone wanted copies of their own. Montgomery Ward bought the rights to the book from their debt-ridden employee. Over the next six years, at Christmas, they gave away six million copies of Rudolph the Red Nosed Reindeer to shoppers. Every major publishing house in the country was making offers to obtain the book. In an incredible display of good will, the head of the department store returned all rights to Bob May. Four years later, Rudolph had made him into a millionaire.

Now remarried with a growing family, May felt blessed by his good fortune. But there was more to come. His brother-in-law, a successful songwriter named Johnny Marks, set the uplifting story to music. The song was pitched to artists from Bing Crosby on down. They all passed. Finally, Marks approached Gene Autry. The cowboy star had scored a holiday hit with “Here Comes Santa Claus” a few years before. Like the others, Autry wasn’t impressed with the song about the misfit reindeer. Marks begged him to give it a second listen. Autry played it for his wife, Ina. She was so touched by the line “They wouldn’t let poor Rudolph play in any reindeer games” that she insisted her husband record the tune.

Within a few years, it had become the second best-selling Christmas song ever, right behind “White Christmas.” Since then, Rudolph has come to life in TV specials, cartoons, movies, toys, games, coloring books, greeting cards and even a Ringling Bros. circus act. The little red-nosed reindeer dreamed up by Bob May and immortalized in song by Johnny Marks has come to symbolize Christmas as much as Santa Claus, evergreen trees and presents. As the last line of the song says, “He’ll go down in history.”

@awesome moments

[callingallbaddies]

Protecting The Musician

Request: Yes @chanbien

The atmosphere backstage was electric as I prepared for my performance. I had been working tirelessly on this set, and sharing the stage with someone as inspiring as Kamala Harris felt like a dream come true. My heart raced with anticipation, and I could hardly wait to showcase my music to an audience that included her.

As I stood by the side of the stage, tuning my guitar, I overheard a commotion in the audience. My stomach twisted when I recognized the loud, brash voice that cut through the excitement—Donald Trump. He had just taken the stage for a brief appearance, and it was clear he was up to his usual antics.

“Why are we even listening to her?” I heard him scoff, his tone dripping with disdain. “What has she ever done that’s so special?”

Anger flared within me at his disrespect for Kamala. This was a woman who had fought tirelessly for justice, equality, and the rights of others, and yet here he was, belittling her without a second thought. I could see Kamala standing tall and composed on the other end of the stage, radiating strength despite the jab.

I took a deep breath, reminding myself that this moment was bigger than us. It wasn’t just about a performance; it was about standing up for what was right. I could feel a surge of determination coursing through me. I was going to dedicate my set to her—to the resilience of anyone who faced disrespect and opposition.

When it was finally my turn to step into the spotlight, I walked out with my head held high. The audience was a mix of cheers and jeers, but I focused on Kamala, who was watching intently, her eyes encouraging. I strummed the first chord and let the music flow through me, pouring all my passion into every note.

As I sang, I could see Kamala smile, her presence invigorating me. I wrote the song with her spirit in mind—about resilience, empowerment, and standing up against those who try to bring us down. With each verse, I let my message resonate, hoping it would reach not only her but everyone in the room.

When I finished, the applause erupted, drowning out any negativity left lingering in the air. Kamala stood and clapped enthusiastically, her smile wide as she approached the front of the stage. My heart swelled with pride as she leaned down to speak to me.

“You were fantastic,” she said, her voice warm and genuine. “Thank you for reminding us why we stand strong together.”

In that moment, I knew that no amount of disrespect from anyone could change the power of our voices. We were here to uplift one another, and I wouldn’t have it any other way.

The indomitable strength that women like her embody. I poured my heart into the lyrics, each verse a tribute to those who had fought battles both seen and unseen.

The audience began to sway with the rhythm, some clapping along while others were caught up in the emotion of the moment. The notes danced in the air, filling the space between us with a sense of solidarity that transcended politics. In that fleeting instant, it felt as though we were all connected—each one of us standing up for a better future, inspired by a remarkable woman who dared to dream big.

As I reached the final chorus, I glanced back at Kamala, and our eyes locked. Her gaze was fierce, filled with pride and determination. I could see the impact of what I was doing; it wasn’t just a performance anymore. It was a declaration. A statement that no matter how loud the dissenters got, we’d keep singing and fighting for what we believe in.

When the last note hung in the air, the audience erupted into applause. I took a moment to let it wash over me, feeling the gratitude and support flowing from the crowd. But more importantly, I wanted to acknowledge Kamala. I gestured toward her, signaling my respect for her unwavering spirit and tenacity.

It was then that I saw something incredible happen. Kamala stood up and clapped, a broad smile on her face. It felt like a culmination of everything she represented—a celebration of resilience and the power of voice. In that moment, I realized that we were all part of something bigger than ourselves, a movement for change and hope.

After the show, I had the chance to meet Kamala backstage. With excitement bubbling inside me, I approached her, still riding the high of the performance. “Thank you for being such an inspiration,” I said, my voice tinged with awe. “Your strength means so much to artists like me.”

She smiled warmly, her eyes sparkling with kindness. “You have an incredible gift, Y/n. Never underestimate the power of your voice. Keep shining!”

Those words resonated within me as we spoke, solidifying my commitment to use my music as a platform for advocacy.

In a world where voices can often be drowned out, I vowed to be unyielding, to let my music speak for those who needed to be heard, and to carry forward the legacy of inspiring leaders like Kamala Harris.

As I left the venue that night, my heart swelled with purpose. I knew this was just the beginning, and I was ready to embrace whatever came next.

[maximumwobblerbanditdonut]

…..continue

SK: Is there a story about Sam that you’d like to share that stands out?

JB: We did an emotionally-charged scene in Season 4, where Ian reveals the details of what happened to him in Jamaica with Geilles. That day was incredibly challenging, emotionally, physically. It was my 20th birthday. I remember feeling so supported and encouraged by him. He’s a great encourager. So, if Caitríona is the facilitator, he’s the encourager. He will always tell you, “That was a great take there. Loved that right there.” As actors, we can get in our head a little bit. But he’s like, ‘No, you’re doing a fantastic job here, John, it’s an honor to be doing this scene with you.’ So yeah, that’s where it goes with Sammy.

SK: Like a cheerleader, till the end.

JB: Yes! A cheerleader, exactly!

SK: Tell me what’s it been like working with Sophie, your on-screen cousin, who you accidentally proposed to. Oops!

JB: [laughs] Sophie’s one of the most loving people I know. Whenever you’re with her, she’s like, “How are you doing, Baba? What’s going on? Where are you at emotionally today?” She is someone that you can’t help but trust and become immediately quite close with. Her contribution to this whole journey has felt like somebody who really is in my corner and is ready to, protect, fight, uplift me in whatever I’ve needed. She’s just that classic sister energy. She’s curious and listens to you really deeply. I really appreciate her kind of love. She’s got endless, endless love.

SK: What a great way to describe her. How about Richard?

JB: The Ricardo himself. I love that man dearly. He has been a rock for me, throughout this entire journey. Someone that I have leaned on a lot. He’s someone who I trust wholeheartedly. He has an energy that you feel very safe around. He’ll make the laughs happen. He’ll make you funnier just by being around him. He may come across as a little guarded or dry, but the drier he is, the more he loves you.

SK: Tell me, what do you carry in your wallet?

JB: I left my wallet back at a party we were having at his [place]. I went over, picked it up, gave him a cuddle, went off. I had to travel to New York. I go to pay for a bottle of water at the airport. And there’s so many tiny cutouts of Roger that he had snuck into my wallet. So, we’ve got the lover, the facilitator, the cheerleader… he’s the joker. They made me giggle so much that I can’t take them out of my wallet now. I love the fact that there’s a little Ricardorito in my wallet at all times.

SK: Caitríona described you as the light of the Outlander cast.

JB: Did she?

SK: She said really beautiful things, which you’ll read.

JB: I feel like Cynthia Erivo [wipes a tear] and Ariana Grande.

Ed: This Wicked meets Outlander photo was taken before Ariana Grande and Cynthia Erivo’s viral moment… maybe they really are time travelers, how did they know?]

SK: Tell us about the fun things you’ve made the cast do that they have not wanted to do. You did manage to make all of them dance on set for TikTok. And then you peaced out of TikTok.

JB: I had a mission to get one with everybody. I don’t think I quite got Caitríona, though—

SK: You got Caitlin and Caitríona together.

JB: That’s right! I got Caitlin and Caitríona together dancing under a rainbow. I forgot about some of my greatest work. I haven’t gotten Caitríona on her own.

SK: There’s still time! You, Sam, and Caitríona have worked together so much over the years, how would you say that the three of you have impacted each other in a good way and not-good way?

JB: Am I the devil or the angel on the shoulder? We’ve impacted each other’s lives so beautifully through our performances together. It’s like people that sing together, something passes between you, right? They’ve taken on the responsibility to support all of the cast. They’ve shown us that when someone new is on set, you should be encouraging them, lifting them up. That lesson of ‘you’re no better than anyone else.’ That’s what they’ve taught me from such an early age.

SK: How about the bad? Or the evil?

JB: The bad! There’s no bad! Oh my gosh, the evil. I’m like, “Let’s go and have fun and party and be silly.” We’re like ships in the night. We just missed each other’s possibilities of being bad influences on each other. Caitríona and I often joke, “If I had just been in New York at the same time as you, we would have been absolute chaos together.”

SK: There’s still time!

This interview has been edited and condensed for length and clarity.

———————————-

Posted 12th December 2024

[the-mandolorian]

I had no idea about the origin story of Rudolph the Red-Nose Reindeer! If you aren't familiar with it either, read below:

As the holiday season of 1938 came to Chicago, Bob May wasn’t feeling much comfort or joy. A 34-year-old ad writer for Montgomery Ward, May was exhausted and nearly broke. His wife, Evelyn, was bedridden, on the losing end of a two-year battle with cancer. This left Bob to look after their four-year old-daughter, Barbara.

One night, Barbara asked her father, “Why isn’t my mommy like everybody else’s mommy?” As he struggled to answer his daughter’s question, Bob remembered the pain of his own childhood. A small, sickly boy, he was constantly picked on and called names. But he wanted to give his daughter hope, and show her that being different was nothing to be ashamed of. More than that, he wanted her to know that he loved her and would always take care of her. So he began to spin a tale about a reindeer with a bright red nose who found a special place on Santa’s team. Barbara loved the story so much that she made her father tell it every night before bedtime. As he did, it grew more elaborate. Because he couldn’t afford to buy his daughter a gift for Christmas, Bob decided to turn the story into a homemade picture book.

In early December, Bob’s wife died. Though he was heartbroken, he kept working on the book for his daughter. A few days before Christmas, he reluctantly attended a company party at Montgomery Ward. His co-workers encouraged him to share the story he’d written. After he read it, there was a standing ovation. Everyone wanted copies of their own. Montgomery Ward bought the rights to the book from their debt-ridden employee. Over the next six years, at Christmas, they gave away six million copies of Rudolph the Red Nosed Reindeer to shoppers. Every major publishing house in the country was making offers to obtain the book. In an incredible display of good will, the head of the department store returned all rights to Bob May. Four years later, Rudolph had made him into a millionaire.

Now remarried with a growing family, May felt blessed by his good fortune. But there was more to come. His brother-in-law, a successful songwriter named Johnny Marks, set the uplifting story to music. The song was pitched to artists from Bing Crosby on down. They all passed. Finally, Marks approached Gene Autry. The cowboy star had scored a holiday hit with “Here Comes Santa Claus” a few years before. Like the others, Autry wasn’t impressed with the song about the misfit reindeer. Marks begged him to give it a second listen. Autry played it for his wife, Ina. She was so touched by the line “They wouldn’t let poor Rudolph play in any reindeer games” that she insisted her husband record the tune.

Within a few years, it had become the second best-selling Christmas song ever, right behind “White Christmas.” Since then, Rudolph has come to life in TV specials, cartoons, movies, toys, games, coloring books, greeting cards and even a Ringling Bros. circus act. The little red-nosed reindeer dreamed up by Bob May and immortalized in song by Johnny Marks has come to symbolize Christmas as much as Santa Claus, evergreen trees and presents. As the last line of the song says, “He’ll go down in history.”

[timeless-fanfic]

Hello I love Simon Z and I adore your Simon Z ones! Can you write one where he thanks Jesus for bringing the reader (his wife) into his life. It’s cool because he can tell God in person

A Thankful Heart

Word Count: 758

Simon Z x Reader

The sun had dipped below the horizon, casting a serene twilight over the small camp where Jesus and His followers had gathered for the evening. The gentle crackle of the fire and the soft murmur of conversation created a peaceful ambiance. Simon , one of Jesus’s disciples, sat on a nearby rock, his gaze fixed on the flickering flames as he reflected on his life.

The past few years had been a whirlwind of miracles, teachings, and personal transformations. But amidst all the incredible experiences, there was one blessing that stood out above all others: the presence of his beloved wife, [Y/N]. The bond they shared had brought him immeasurable joy and fulfillment, and he often found himself marveling at the way their lives had intertwined.

As Jesus approached, Simon felt a wave of gratitude welling up within him. He rose from his seat and approached Jesus with a sense of reverence and eagerness. “Rabbi,” Simon began, his voice filled with emotion. “May I have a moment of your time?”

Jesus smiled warmly at him. “Of course, Simon. What is on your heart?”

Simon took a deep breath, trying to find the right words to express the depth of his feelings. “There is something I’ve been meaning to tell you. I want to thank you for bringing [Y/N] into my life.”

Jesus looked at him with gentle understanding. “You are grateful for your wife?”

Simon nodded vigorously. “More than I can ever express. When I first met her, I knew that she was someone special, but I had no idea how profoundly she would impact my life. Her kindness, her strength, her unwavering support—she has been a source of light and love for me.”

Jesus listened attentively, His gaze compassionate and encouraging. “It brings joy to My heart to see the love and happiness you share.”

Simon continued, his voice trembling slightly with emotion. “You see, Rabbi, I was once nothing, a man of simple means. My life was straightforward, but it lacked something profound. When [Y/N] came into my life, everything changed. She brought a depth of joy and purpose that I had never known before.”

He paused, collecting his thoughts. “I often wonder how I was so blessed to find her. It feels like a miracle in itself. I want to thank you for bringing us together, for blessing me with such a wonderful partner.”

Jesus’s eyes softened with warmth and affection. “Simon, you have found a treasure in [Y/N] because your heart is open and true. The love you share is a reflection of the love that I have for all My children. Your gratitude and your love for each other are a testament to the goodness and grace that exist in the world.”

Simon’s eyes glistened with gratitude. “I know that it is through Your grace that we have found each other. I am deeply thankful for the way You have woven our lives together.”

Jesus placed a reassuring hand on Simon’s shoulder. “It is My pleasure to see My followers find joy and fulfillment in their relationships. Your love for [Y/N] and your appreciation for the blessings in your life are a beautiful expression of faith and gratitude.”

Simon nodded, feeling a profound sense of peace. “I will cherish this gift forever, Rabbi. I promise to continue to honor [Y/N] and to be grateful for the incredible blessing of having her by my side.”

Jesus smiled, His presence a comforting assurance. “You are a good man, Simon. Your love and gratitude reflect the very essence of what it means to walk in My teachings. Continue to nurture your relationship with [Y/N], and let your love for each other inspire those around you.”

Simon’s heart swelled with appreciation. “Thank you, Rabbi. Your words mean more to me than I can express.”

With a final, heartfelt nod, Simon stepped back, his spirit uplifted by the conversation. As Jesus returned to the fire, Simon sat quietly, reflecting on the profound sense of gratitude that filled him. The evening had brought him a deep sense of fulfillment, knowing that his appreciation for [Y/N] had been shared with the One who had made their union possible.

The night grew darker, and the campfire’s light flickered softly. Simon felt a renewed sense of purpose and contentment, knowing that his love for [Y/N] and his gratitude to Jesus were intertwined in a bond that transcended the ordinary.

[holyguardian]

@soldier-lodbrok | X

Glenn's declaration tickled a huffed laugh from her. Even when she least expected that enthusiasm from him it brightened her day. She wasn't particularly needy for the validation but it felt good being uplifted even in something so simple. Honestly, he could be a cheerleader for scraping clean some burnt toast, offering his endless encouragement.

The past week had been the hardest by far. She didn't know she had those fears, until they came crashing down all at once. Time had passed but her body remembered. It was like instinct had kicked in and every noise had her on edge. Consequently it had been Roran's worst week too, little wonder, he could feel the change in his mother who wasn't the relaxed and happy mess of love that he knew. But they had gotten through it, had found the other side. Glenn had been her rock even when she was being a bit unreasonable.

"Amazing for a couple of new parents who weren't handed a 'how-to' pamphlet from the midwife. I can't believe we're simply handed a baby without some kind of instruction manual." Ifalna's teasing was all quite innocent, and she pulled an exaggerated happy face at Roran when he gurgled in her general direction. This was what bliss felt like.

She smiled into the stolen kiss and tipped her head back with a laugh as he twirled her, as if they weren't a couple of incredibly tired parents stumbling along through the day. He still hadn't realised he had his shirt on back to front.

"Oh, I'm not the one complaining about scratchy kisses. But you can't shave too much off and be smooth like Roran, it's a high-pressure job and you have to get it just right." She almost rolled her eyes at the mention of fries. Good mother Gaia, their daughter was a fiend. "Maybe she'll just want toast." Wishful thinking. "I'll handle breakfast, anything else after that is on your shoulders. I'm pretending that I might mop the floors but honestly it sounds easier to keep our beanbag boy off of them and attached to one of us."

[11cupids-tarot11]

Review 💗

First of all, SHE IS THE SWEETEST AND KINDEST HUMAN BEING EVER!! 💗😭

Her intuition is truly unmatched. She read my situation so accurately it felt like she was actually there 😭 The reading resonated so deeply, coupled with her kind and encouraging words, just genuinely one of the most amazing reading experiences I’ve ever gotten. Her reading provided me with a lot of clarity as well!

She picked up on minor details that make her even more incredible. I literally RAN to her DM after I read her PAC just to tell her how amazing and spot on she was!! The extended reading I got was just,, WOW! She is so gifted!

Omg you will not regret getting a reading from her. Not only is the quality top notch, but the interactions you will get with her is just so positive and uplifting! Absolutely beautiful energy 🥹 Keep up the amazing work, love! 🫶

- Ellen 💗

The sweetest review I've ever gotten 😭 I had so much fun reading for you! 💖

[guyyurienjoyer]

Alriiiiight so for the next couple I am gonna be dropping the bullet points because there are some fat fucking paragraphs in there.

On the emotional/psychological side of things

Before Clive came into the picture, Cid was absolutely priming Gav to eventually take up the mantle should he fall in battle or, God willing, his aging body force him into a less active role. The lad’s young, quick-witted, even quicker on his feet, and his sheer gratitude towards Cid translates into a sense of devotion that can’t really be swayed by anything. 

However, amidst all that admiration is a burgeoning attraction that Gav doesn’t really understand at first, and eventually comes to grips with the reality that the kind of yearning he's feeling isn’t exactly appropriate given their mission and their respective stations. This make him feel a kind of loneliness he’d never experienced before, something very different than what he’s been feeling every day since the loss of his family. That said, Cid does his best to handle it all with care and help them both navigate the situation as kindly as he can because he's a gentleman. 

He eventually gets across just how important their mission is and that it's their duty to see it through to the end, and as such, their rapport has lines that shouldn't be crossed for the sake of ensuring that Gav's every action, every decision puts the cause above all else and never gets superseded by personal feelings.

This saddens Cid just as much as it does Gav, because dammit, he *is* fond of the lad just the same, and he'd be happy to be his rock, his safe haven, make him realize just how much he deserved, how much he can accomplish, and maybe even how good they could make one another feel… but that's a luxury they can’t afford to indulge in with the responsibilities they are each beholden to.

Cid, however, more than makes up for it by offering encouragement, praise and uplifts Gav as often as he can. He also does eventually figure out ways to spoil him a little (nothing inherently sexual, I’ll get into the specifics in another post). 

This leads to Gav becoming very, very dutiful in regards to everything related to the affairs of the hideaway, and figuring celibacy is the path he has to follow (which is the last thing Cid wants: he's all for Gav finding intimate companionship, he just isn't in a position to reciprocate), and he erects a barrier around himself that a certain somber hound of a man would eventually burn down before pulling Gav into a tight, healing squeeze.

------

 Much like you’ve already put it, finding a mate was the absolute last thing on Clive’s mind when he and Gav started working together, and his heart, at the time, was laser-focused on the fact that Jill was alive and the untold joy it brought him, but also on what she meant to him now, and likewise what he meant to her. They eventually decide to focus on healing and supporting one another no matter what, and that whatever will be, Will Be.  

Throughout it all, Clive has no problem unwittingly, repeatedly leaning into Gav’s bubble with absolutely zero awareness of how it could come off to Gav or anyone observing. Since the day they got acquainted, Clive’s never felt anything but a deep reverence for a man who repeatedly sticks his neck out for him without a shred of hesitation, is staggeringly efficient on the field despite his youth, while somehow also being one of the most easygoing, grounding people he’s ever met.

The way he’s so incredibly easy to talk to despite a tongue that is at times sharper than Cid’s is one of the first things that starts wearing down the chinks in Clive’s (psychological) armor. 

Likewise with the new environment he finds himself in, Clive’s soldier deprogramming begins almost instantly, and he’s more than happy to shed the violence of his past, and finds he much prefers using his voice to praise and give heart rather than to bark orders, and his hands to support and build instead of shedding blood, and Gav’s the first to fall to this onslaught of kind words, praise and unexpected, but not unwanted physical touch.

----------

There’s a lot about Clive that threw Gav for a loop, like at first, he would have expected the Rosarian to be the kind of person who, hardened by war and strife, wouldn’t gel with or even actively reject the carefree levity he brings everywhere with him. Or perhaps, he would use his heritage to lord him around, even look down on him should he catch wind of his humble upbringing.

Instead, he finds this somewhat awkward, but very steadfast, incredibly thoughtful hulking fortress of a man who responds to every goof, every little jape of Gav’s with a smirk, a chuckle, or even roaring laughter if he’s had enough to drink. And that smile of his is contagious.

Eventually, he becomes comfortable with teasing Clive a little, in itself a form of payback for all the stammering the man's wrung out of him. Of course, Clive’s not the one to take it lying down, but his clapbacks need work and sometimes whoever’s in earshot of one of their little exchanges will do a double take.

-----------

During battle, Gav strives to be Clive’s shadow and isn’t afraid of getting caught in the crossfire of his flashier dominant powers. He and Torgal develop a mutual understanding and seamlessly work together to cover Clive’s blind spots and support one another. The wolf will even listen to Gav’s commands when Clive gets too tied up in his Dominant shenanigans, a mark of respect which Gav returns by sometimes replying to Torgal’s barking or growling in battle with something like “Don’t need to tell me twice!” or “Got it!” as if he’d just been issued an order or directive (or to acknowledge whatever Torgal’s trying to point out).

Initially, Gav’s utter devotion to Clive’s safety is partly rooted in his misunderstanding of Cid’s words above; once he realizes his crush on Clive, he begins overthinking and becomes so, so afraid of ever sharing how he feels with his companion, not just because he’s worried of potentially intruding between Clive and Jill, but also because he doesn’t want to become a weakness for Clive.

However I think once Clive becomes aware of how Gav feels, he immediately begins reassuring Gav that this couldn’t be further than the truth, and that Gav is, if anything, a source of strength for him. After this moment of shared vulnerability, Clive begins making more of an effort to actively synchronize with Gav in the heat of battle and tries to return the vigilance with which the other man keeps spears, daggers and fangs out of his back. 

As for Gav, while he struggles to see himself as worthy of Clive’s reverence and admiration even well after they begin to reciprocate one another’s feelings, the desire to come home to Clive safe and sound basically raises his self-preservation instinct by 500%, as he’s willing to be a lot more ruthless and underhanded if it means getting to live another day.

Okay I'll post the rest of it tomorrow, a guy needs his beauty sleep.

Clive/Gav headcanons/rambles/???

remembering i can post whatever i want once again so i'm posting some clive/gav headcanons since i was talking to a friend about our desires for character study slowburn but also our lamentations that we are not fic writers. and how barely anybody else is talking about this ship. so here's the compiled thoughts i've had. (there's more of them than i thought)

(gripping you) think about it with me :) (writers feel free to steal these thoughts as ammunition)

______________________________________________________________

It's very 'Gav falls first, Clive falls harder'. Gav's got eyes, he see's what we all see and as he sees the kind of man Clive is and he's gonna fall deeper. and he also may think he's out of Clive's league. - Clive's got enough self resentment that he isn't even sure he's allowed to love again. the subject of 'loving somebody' is likely barely on the table in his mind yet after 13 years of spite and revenge, he still needs to catch up. Jill may put it on the table as it was maybe something they once felt, or something they were once expected to have; but they're different people now, trying to find themselves in their new space to do so. And during that time Gav is waiting for that 'will they wont they' to unfold.

Clive has spent a lot of time having to be physically violent against his will, so i think he enjoys getting to actually touch people affectionately for once - which we see for ourselves flusters Gav. as Gav grows accustomed to and even reciprocating of it (Gav having his growing crush and deciding to take what he can get) Clive's very glad with how comfortable he can be around Gav without consciously thinking too hard about it. along with how much i think Clive respects and admires Gav for everything he does, he's glad to continue being physically affectionate to show his appreciation.

Clive reflects on how for 13 years he had nothing to sincerely smile for while stuck as a hateful miserable soldier, and even before then under his mother they were few and far between. and as he's finding his footing for the first time in forever this funny breath of fresh air comes along and suddenly he's smiling. often even. And he can't even remember the last time his smile felt real. The last time he laughed so hard, eventually to the point where it's hard enough to make his chest hurt. that he doesn't quite feel like he's drowning.

he tries not to think too hard when Gav gets either giddy or flustered when he's praised lest the word "cute" fill his head. How he thinks Gav deserves all those kind words every time.

He and Gav have had their quiet moments over the years of the timeskip, and maybe somewhere earlier in the timeline than what happens in the game before joshua's returned, Gav's brings up earlier; "i never got to be a big brother" - losing his family in one night - and instead him relating to Clive on the feeling of failing to protect and save a younger sibling. in that vulnerable moment maybe Gav musters up asking 'was being a big brother nice? atleast for a little while?'. and they can mourn together the lost chances, pressure, and pride.

Along the way Clive picks up that Gav's jokes are how he gets by with the darker thoughts, the self doubts, the feeling of not being enough. and he comes to appreciate the Gav that isn't just trying to make him laugh or ease up, the Gav that is also struggling, that makes reminding him he's special continue to mean more to him. when he wants to be the one that also makes Gav smile and laugh and be happy to be alive in return

Gav's a man who's never been good at fancy words, and suddenly he wants to be a poet because he needs a way to describe the feelings he has. As he lets Clive see all his doubts and flaws but never being shamed for it, continuing to be treated by Clive's kindness, he cherishes feeling legitimately seen and cared for despite his weakness. and he feels like the most honoured man alive whenever Clive confides his struggles in him more and more too

everybody has been watching these two insufferably pine, Gav being more self aware and self concious, while Clive not even figuring out his own feelings yet for so long doesn't realize that he's obvious to everyone else :)

When Clive finally puts all the points together, being struck with the realization he's in love. the subsequent question "oh fuck is that allowed", and is laying in that bed hands in his hair staring wide eyed at the ceiling utterly stricken. But Clive, always the driven man, will eventually resolve to let Gav know, because he thinks Gav deserves that much. to let him know how grateful he is to know how to love someone - him - like this.

a leader and his scout to guide eachother :)

[willelbyers]

jesus y’all love to purposefully misinterpret stuff. no one is saying that we (non-milevens) don’t want el to have nice things or be loved when we say we didn’t like the “i love you” scene.

el deserves to be encouraged and loved. but one single turbulent relationship fueling her strength when she is surrounded by so much love? when she has her brothers at her side and the memory of her father to uplift her and the drive to save her best friend? one boy telling her what she told him she wanted to hear to give her that push? she didn’t NEED that from mike, and it felt like a violation of el’s character growth over the past year of her life. she didn’t need it.

i love el. i really, really do. and i want her to hear it from someone who isn’t saying it because she’s a superhero but because she’s an incredibly brave, kind, thoughtful person, with or without powers. i’m happy for her if mike meant what he said, because i know that’s what she wanted, but i don’t think it was good enough. there’s more to love than that. that’s it.

[harrisonarchive]

George Harrison attending a Cirque du Soleil show, 16 December 2000; photos © Camerapress and American Photo Library.

How George set in motion The Beatles LOVE by Cirque du Soleil...

Olivia Harrison: “Actually, it [The Beatles LOVE] was George’s vision. George and Guy Laliberte had a friendship and they had this creative spark of a moment and, you know, George was around just long enough to transmit that to all of us. And through everyone’s effort it came through. I think it’s been seven years – seven years.” Q: “What do you think George would have thought of it?" OH: “I think he would have loved it. I just know he would have. I know that he – he loved Cirque. You know, Cirque is a very romantic thing. He was a very romantic person. And I know he would have enjoyed it.” - Larry King Live, 2007

“The idea had been conceived six years earlier at one of [Guy] Laliberté’s parties, when, around a campfire, he and George Harrison developed what would be a lasting friendship. ‘I never saw Guy look so happy as that night,’ said one acquaintance.” - Independent, 22 September 2009

“‘I remember quite purely that in Paul [McCartney]’s mind, in Olivia [Harrison]’s mind, it was George’s show that we were doing,’ [Dominic] Champagne said. ‘Slowly and slowly it became our show.’ […] ‘The Beatles were always ahead of themselves,’ Olivia Harrison said, ‘and it’s the same with the show. We were trying to master something that wasn’t able to be mastered at that time. The tools that are available now have allowed the show to become what we all thought that it was going to be in the beginning. I think now it’s completely right.’” - Los Angeles Times, 16 July 2016 (x)

At the Mirage in 2006, commemorative plaques for George and John were unveiled by Paul McCartney, Yoko Ono, Ringo Starr, and Olivia Harrison:

"It is hard, you know. I mean their presence is very powerful and very strong. But the incredible thing about them is that they - everything they left the world and left us is uplifting and joyful." - Olivia Harrison, Larry King Live, aired 26 June 2007

“It's an honor for me to do this today. It's not really a pleasure because I'd prefer the man was standing next to me, but this is life as we know it. George was a great musician and a dear friend. I love him and I miss him. God bless him, and I'm sure wherever he is, he's smiling right now." - Ringo Starr

"Olivia Harrison said George's focus in encouraging [Paul] McCartney, [Ringo] Starr and [Yoko] Ono to agree to collaborate on the Cirque project wasn't exclusively about the show itself. Their collective presence for the anniversary event was another expression of why he felt so strongly about the project. 'He wasn't here for the specifics of how it manifested,' she said. 'But he knew it was going to be good, he knew it was going to be fun, he knew it was going to bring everybody together. And that's why he wanted to do it... We've all had fun; we've all had the occasion we wouldn’t have had to spend time together.'” - Los Angeles Times, 28 June 2007 (x)

“George and Guy [Laliberte] met in the 1990s on the Formula One circuit. Guy hosts a party after the Montreal Grand Prix, so George went. George came home and said, ‘You know, there was a man and a woman sitting in a lake. She had a tuxedo on and he had a ball gown on and they sat at a table all night long having a candlelit dinner with water up to their waist. There were people in feather costumes swinging in the trees like birds.’ This really was right up George’s alley. Guy was the visionary and so was George. They had a lot of excited conversations. George instigated a meeting with Paul, George, Yoko, Ringo and Guy. Everyone wanted to have fun, be creative and have someone else be the vehicle for that. […] All of us are so emotionally involved. I tend to look at George’s music, see what they’re doing with that [...] [and] always love to see [George’s] face. I thought [the show] was beautiful. Overall, it’s meant to uplift. It’s meant to make people happy, and it does that.” - Olivia Harrison, Newsweek, 23 June 2006

“I think I can put my hand on my heart and say, 'Yes, he would have been thrilled.’ And he would have been back and forth to Vegas so many times, seeing that show, and taking everyone. He really liked to be with his friends and he liked a good party and a good time. [...] It really was [bittersweet] and I know that Paul and Ringo were feeling that, missing them too, and for Yoko and I, it was very emotional, because you hear their voices and they're almost just right there.“ - Olivia Harrison, Toronto Sun, 1 December 2006 (x)

“‘Love,’ Cirque’s fifth show in Las Vegas, began with a conversation between Beatle ‪George Harrison‬ and Cirque’s founder-CEO Guy Laliberte at a party during the Montreal Grand Prix in 2000. Harrison wanted to do two shows — one of Beatles music and one of his own — with both conveying messages of hope and love and music as a universal language. Laliberte carried on with the idea after Harrison’s death.” - Variety, 28 June 2006 (x)

Q: “Las Vegas wasn’t the first choice to host this show, was it?” Olivia Harrison: “No. When George was alive, there was a plan to create it here in London. That didn’t happen, and then it was going to be in New York, and of course September 11 happened, and that was a very difficult time. So it wasn’t always the idea, but I think it’s a good place and it’ll be fun.” Q: “Did you and George like Las Vegas? Did you go on vacations there?” OH: “No. Never. It’s not really our sort of place, to be honest. George and Paul and Heather and I flew in to see ‘O’ [early in the development of ‘Love’]. That was the first time I was ever in Vegas.” Q: “Has your impression of the city changed since you’ve visited?” OH: “I’d rather be in my garden, let’s put it that way.” - Newsweek, 2006 (x)

[mercurial-madhouse]

Trigger Warning: Healing is painful, but there’s so much light on the other side if we’re strong enough to walk through the dark.

My hope in sharing my story is to help anyone who reads it find peace or healing, just as I always aim with my fiction. If it feels right to you to do so, I encourage you to reblog this. It is highly personal, but I choose to share it publicly.

************

This past Sunday, I received an email responding to my desire to withdraw from a fic fest. Instead of the simple “You have been removed from the fest” that I’d been expecting through an official channel from mods to a participant, this is the response I received. Please be aware, the following is painful.

***

We've removed you from the fest and will mark you down as not being welcome to participate in future fests. We show a great deal of compassion toward our writers, which is why we send reminders, answer any and all questions, and provide extensions when requested. There's a reason why our fest has one of the highest numbers of fics of any fest/challenge in the fandom - it's because we support our participating writers and do everything possible to assist them as they complete their fics.

However, once a writer has repeatedly failed to communicate and missed both a deadline and an extended deadline, it's clear that they do not have any respect for the fest, the mods, our time, or our own unique situations, as we don't have endless extra hours to track down participants in a fic fest. Several reminders on three different platforms, an extension, and requests for writers to simply let us know if they need more time does not demonstrate a lack of compassion in any capacity. We also showed a great deal of compassion by welcoming you with open arms into the [redacted] after you insulted the fest, insulted [redacted] fics, and made writers uncomfortable last year after signing up to beta their fics, all while pretending to support and uplift writers in the fandom just as you did in your email here.

Have a great week!

- [redacted] Mods

***

This email arrived right at the end of the night, just as I was lying down to sleep. I couldn’t read it all the way through. It elicited a trauma response in me. My heart started racing, my palms were sweaty, I was shaking, I felt sick to my stomach.

I went into fight/flight/freeze/fawn mode. My first response was to freeze. In order to escape the barrage of pain bombarding me, I simply dissociated and disconnected from my body. It allowed me to sleep, but barely. I deleted the email in a desperate attempt to pretend it didn’t exist.

The pain caught up with me twenty-four hours later. I couldn’t breathe, my lungs shrunk in around my heart. My whole body locked up. I couldn’t move. I knew that if I spoke, even to say ‘hello’ to someone, I’d start crying.

The moment I was alone in my room the tears came. The pain came, bursting through me. I sobbed uncontrollably, curled into myself on my bed, begging for the pain to stop, begging for a miracle, screaming internally for relief and to understand what I’d done to deserve this because I didn’t have the air for more than broken whispers.

I fell asleep whispering ‘I need a miracle’ over and over. The mantra blocked out all the disgusting thoughts that wanted to keep swirling through my head. This is it. This is the final proof that you don’t belong here. You never have. You never will. Run away, M. It’s over. You tried, you failed. You always do. You always will.

I fell asleep out of sheer exhaustion.

Grief is intense. These are the moments where we don’t think we’ll survive what we’re feeling. My love, whoever you are, if you are reading this, hear from me. The agony passed. I needed to feel that agony, to allow it to move through me and to give myself the space to feel it. Without diving off the deep end into what hurts, I wouldn’t have been able to find the inner peace to keep healing, to start to understand.

The residual pain is still there, even as I write this post. But it no longer overwhelms my senses. And by Tuesday morning, I’d been given insight into what was happening.

I experienced a trauma response because it mirrored mistreatment I first received in childhood from family and classmates alike and continued into my adult life. In full view of others, it was acknowledged as cruel even by my mother, who struggles with her own guilt because she never stood up for me. No one did.

So I internalized the mistreatment. I must deserve it if everyone else around me is ok with me being singled out like this? At first I spoke up for myself. But in the end I stopped speaking up for myself too. I had never healed this pain and here it was, coming back around again, forcing me to face it, to heal it once and for all.

I still do not know what exactly I may have said to cause these accusations that you see in the email. **I do not and will not deny them.** Even if my words were taken in a way I did not consciously intend, to deny that I said anything that caused someone else pain is to deny my own power AND to deny that everyone’s emotions are valid and worth digging into.

I have the power to inflict pain, just as I have the power to spread and share love and joy.

Whatever I said came from a place of pain, of believing I did not belong in this community. That I am not good enough or worthy enough to be here. A series of unfortunate but necessary events when I first entered this fandom completely disintegrated my core beliefs in my abilities as a writer, something I have always kept so close to my heart, and my belief that I had a place in this fandom.

I expect, as I look into my past patterns, that what I did was try to logic why I wasn’t allowed to belong. At the time, this fest was the only subset of the fandom I knew, I was so brand new. So I looked through all the prompts in the fest. I brought a scientific method view to answering the question: “What is it about the fics people write in this fandom am I unable/incapable of doing?”

This process allowed me to generalize everything I saw that I perceived as ‘I can’t do that, this is why I don’t belong here’. Consumed in my own doubt that I could measure up and write something worth reading, I dropped from the fest last year too. If I can’t contribute writing that’s worth reading, I could at least stick with what I do best, which is helping others be their best selves. I had signed up to beta, and I chose to cling to the only grasp of belonging I had, which was through beta’ing. I ended up beta’ing four fics last year for the fest. And, of course, each of them were (and still are) incredible fics. At the time, it was further proof to me of exactly what I can’t accomplish.

In all likelihood, these generalizations, stemming from a place of pain and jealousy because I wanted to write good fics too, came out in a personal conversation with someone, which they translated as a personal attack. It is valid. Whoever you are, your emotions are valid. It does not matter how I meant whatever I said, pain is what you felt. This person did not feel comfortable sharing that pain with me, so instead they turned to others and shared. My moment of vulnerability and pain then spread more pain.

Pain only comes from pain.

The response was to shadow ban me. In fact, I was never meant to find out about any of this. The pain this person shared was simply taken at face value and that was that.

So on my end, this decision showed up in the physical world this way: Suddenly all my asks went unanswered, people I tagged to share snippets and last lines and get to know more through ‘about me’ posts or who had once talked to me through DMs simply stopped speaking to me in a way that is only noticeable to the person being ignored. I thought I was going crazy. But there it was, right in front of me: absolute proof that I wasn’t good enough to be a part of this fandom.

Is anyone else beginning to see the cycle of pain?

I expect I continued this cycle right back, because the pain turned to bitterness. I’d been doing everything I could to support every author the best way I knew how, and this was what I got? The exact opposite?

I found out about this shadow ban and actual blocking around June of this year. An ask sent in by a friend for me, inquiring why I couldn’t reblog a post that’d been sent to me by someone else, finally gave me the answer that I’d been banned for the accusations you saw above.

Horrified, hurt, and unable to comprehend any of this except to know that I support every author no matter what they write, I sent an apology to the mods, trying to end this cycle the best I could without knowing any of the details of what had happened. There was nothing more I could do.

They thanked me for the apology, though as you can see from the email, it was never accepted. I do not say that as a judgement call, but simply as a statement of what happened. Everyone is entitled to accept or not accept in their own time and their own ways.

I have been healing so much since everything that occurred last year. And the more I dig in to this cycle, the more my heart goes out to the drafters of this email, to the person I hurt with my words who then turned to share it out of context with others, and to the people who shadow banned me in connection with this situation.

We attract to us what resonates with us. Like attracts like. Which means just as I’ve attracted the greatest friends to me, I have also attracted this pain, and conversely, these mods and that person attracted me to them.

Deep down, on some level we share the same core wounds. And the person who can really understand just how painful those wounds can be is someone who feels them too.

So this is my message to the mods of the above email, to those who have shadow banned me and want nothing to do with me, and to the original person I hurt with my words:

I am sorry for my part in this pain. I am sorry for causing pain and I apologize for it. You are loved. You are enough. You are doing a fantastic job. Your feelings are valid. Your hurt is valid. I don’t know what occurred that hurt you before I entered the fandom, but after finding out from others that an email like the one you sent above is ‘Oh that’s just how they are’ tells me something else happened to hurt you before I even arrived.

Your hurt then is valid too. Allow yourself to feel it and process it. Don’t let it consume you. Don’t let that hurt and fear of it happening again or believing that that’s how everyone is push away from you people who in fact love just what you love. If someone has a different belief from yours, don’t let it invalidate what is true for you. Believing internalized lies about myself only caused me pain. And we spread and create what we believe to be true, whether we consciously realize it or not.

So here, now, is my truth:

I choose to perpetuate love. I choose to spread love. I choose to understand my pain and the pain of others, to transmute it, and to heal it, instead of passing that pain on.

I choose compassion. Compassion for myself in making these mistakes, and compassion for those who have hurt me. I do not condone the email that was sent to me. No one deserves to be treated that way. I choose to focus beneath the visceral anger and lashing out, to focus on the agony beneath the words, and stop this cycle of pain.

I choose to belong in this fandom. I choose to support every author in this fandom and ensure no one ever feels not good enough. I choose to own my past mistakes and learn from them.

I choose trust. To trust that those who I truly hope will see this, will see it. I have no expectations of responses or outcomes or reactions. My only hope is that whoever will benefit from seeing this post will see it.

This is not a matter of right or wrong, bad or good, just or unjust. It is a situation of two parties in pain, triggered by the same triggers.

Looking back on that email, I’ve come to realize that half of the pain I felt when I received it was not my own. I felt the pain of the attack, sure, but I also felt the immense pain beneath those words. And I wish I could hug you. I acknowledge your pain and I acknowledge how painful it is because I know that pain myself. I also know that this pain isn’t you and it isn’t who you are.

So I choose to remember the mods I first met around this same time last year in this same email chain. Mods who were so kind and offered advice to a brand new writer even when she sent an email that had nothing to do with the fest and was still struggling to find her place in the fandom. I choose to remember how beautiful that kindness felt. I choose to remember how I was so grateful for that kindness that I shared my gratitude for these same mods in an email with with another fandom friend at the time. I am still grateful for you.

You are so loved. You are loved for being exactly who you are. This fandom is built upon love. A shared love of five incredibly talented lads who have brought so much joy and light when each and every one of us has needed it the most. Shine your light through the dark and believe with all your heart that you are not alone. You have support. I support you. Shine on. Don’t let anyone dim it.

[drspencerweed]

One sentence prompt (Spencer x reader)

“I don’t know how anyone could be anything but happy when you’re around”

💖💖

this got a little long OOPS but thank you i love how this turned out!

----

"I don't know how anyone could be anything but happy when you're around." she said nonchalantly, smiling up at Spencer. He paused, not expecting the compliment or the honesty. He had just asked her why she was smiling, he had noticed it from the moment he walked in the door.

It was his first day back at the BAU after getting shot in the neck, and [Y/N] had come to see him only once in the two weeks he was home. He had missed her, and when he came into the office to be greeted with her blinding grin, he couldn't help but ask if there was something specific making her so happy. They're desks were across from each other, he couldn't not notice her incredibly uplifted mood.

His pause had been too long, and he watched her panic internally. "I just mean, I guess, uhm. I'm glad you're alive. And here." She was blushing furiously, and tried to return to her work.

Spencer swallowed and almost went to do the same, letting the awkwardness go, when he realized he might actually have a chance here. With her. Morgan had been trying to convince him for weeks that she liked him back, but he had been blind to it until now. But he knew that look, that avoidance, that slip up. He did it every time he thought he had shown too much about how he felt.

There was only one thing left bugging him. "Why didn't you come visit me last week?" He asked, possibly too aggressively but he needed to know, it was the only thing that didn't add up. If she liked him the way he liked her... why wouldn't she have come over more often? She came over more than once a week before he got shot.

Her face flushed again, and she barely glanced up at him while twisting her fingers. He tried to look encouraging, hopeful, but he wasn't quite sure if it was working. "I didn't want to overwhelm you." She finally said quietly.

"I don't know how anyone could be anything but happy when you're around." He repeated her earlier words to her, smiling. She finally looked at him again, eyebrow quirked.

"That's-you can't steal my compliment." She huffed, trying and mostly failing to keep the corners of her lips from curling into a smile.

"Why not?" He teased.

"Get your own!" She pushed, a small challenge in her eye. He wouldn't have caught it if he hadn't been looking for it.

"I don't think I've truly known love until I've known you." He said earnestly, jumping off a cliff he never thought he'd leap from. Her jaw dropped slightly in shock, but he could see the happiness in her features.

"You love me?" She whispered, her voice disbelieving.

"I-yeah." He said somewhat lamely. Short lived courage was fading fast as his adrenaline drained. Sure, almost dying had really put his feelings about her into perspective. And sure, he had spent the last two weeks talking himself out of confessing because there was no way she felt the same way. But it was out there now. And despite all that convincing he had done, he thought he might have a chance.

Her smile was only encouraging this belief. She seemed as beside herself as he felt. "You, Spencer Reid, love me?" She confirmed again, but she was standing up with a wide grin and approaching his chair. He bit down on his bottom lip and nodded.

She gripped the arms of his chair and leaned in close. Lips just inches apart, Spencer felt like he couldn't quite catch his breath. Her eyes locked heavily on his, shining with delight. "I love you too." She finally whispered, and then immediately crashed their lips together.

His hand found her cheek, holding her in place. Spencer's heart thumped heavily in his chest, not quite believing this was all happening. Lips molded together, pulling and pressing and sucking, it seemed surreal. She pulled away first, resting her forehead against his.

A loud wolf whistle interrupted their moment, both of them snapping away to see Derek standing at his desk with a smirk. "About time, you two."

They blushed and she shuffled back to her desk without making eye contact. When she sat down and looked up at him again, he knew the smile on his face was giving him away. It didn't matter though, because hers was as well.

[90363462]

Who Is Drake’s Mother And Why Does He Take Every Opportunity To Celebrate Her

Shaoni DasFebruary 10, 2021

In just a few short years, Drake has cemented his status as one of the biggest celebrities in the world. 

He’s more than a mere artist. He’s undoubtedly one of Canada’s national treasures and one of hip-hop’s most beloved and buzzworthy figures. He draws in attention wherever he goes, whenever he speaks — his voice and reach are unsurmountable in many ways. 

Over the years, the rapper has maintained the narrative that he’s “started from the bottom” and has reached the upper echelons of fame and success through nothing but sheer hard work. While most of his fans adore him for being so earnest about his origins, many of his detractors peddle a different theory and propose that not everything about his life story is as authentic as it seems. 

Seeing how Drake croons on and on about his humble beginnings, it’s worth examining what indeed occurred in his childhood, the impact his parents had had on his passions and character, and how his upbringing drives his relationship with his son Adonis. 

Drake and his mom were “very poor” but she still encouraged him to follow his dreams

(Photo by George Pimentel/WireImage)

Aubrey ‘Drake’ Graham was born on October 24, 1986, in Toronto, Ontario, to Sandi and Dennis Graham. His African-American father originated from a musical family in Memphis, Tennessee, and had been a drummer for artist Jerry Lee Lewis at one point. He moved to Toronto in the eighties and had met Sandi Sher at a nightclub called Club Bluenote. Sandi, a Canadian woman of Ashkenazi Jewish background, had worked as an English teacher and occasionally as a florist at the time. 

Unfortunately, Dennis and Sandi’s marriage didn’t last for a long time; the two divorced when Drake was just five, and Dennis proceed to move back to Tennessee. As a young Black Jewish boy, Drake felt out of place and misunderstood for most of his childhood. 

Sandi tried her best to raise and support Drake as a single mother, but she faced several struggles financially and physically. For most of his young life, Drake grew up on Weston Road in Toronto, which he claims, was “not the nicest area in the world.” Sandi suffered from osteoporosis and joint pain, which left her isolated in her bedroom for most of Drake’s childhood. Her poor health drove her to smoke heavily and take an exorbitant amount of pain meds. 

When Drake was in the sixth grade, his mother moved him to a wealthier part of town, Forest Hill, so they didn’t live in an “area that could create trouble for her son.” But Drake maintains that the family was still “broke” and had to rent the basement and the first floor of a house. 

Everybody thinks I went to some private school and my family was rich. Maybe it’s my fault. Maybe I haven’t talked enough about it, but I didn’t grow up happy. I wasn’t in a happy home. My mother was very sick. We were very poor, like broke.  none

Despite their tumultuous life, Sandi still managed to throw Drake a Bar Mitzvah and encouraged him to follow his dreams. She never forced him to live by a certain code or implement anything in particular, but she still wanted the best for him. For a brief period, Drake went to a Jewish day school, but nobody “understood” him or his identity as a young Black Jewish boy. Despite those challenges, Drake always felt uplifted by his mother, who celebrated him at every instance. Therefore, the rapper does his best to honour his mother on every occasion and show her a world of gratitude for everything she’s done for him. 

My mother is an incredible woman. She’s always just told me, ‘You know, whatever you want to do, whatever you end up being, I’ll always love you. I’ll always support you.’ none

Drake claims to have had a deadbeat father, but his dad says otherwise

(Photo by Thaddaeus McAdams/WireImage)

While Drake’s mother was bedridden and “deteriorating,” Drake’s father was in and out of jail. Dennis had had two stints in prison while Drake was growing up, leading him to miss massive chunks of his son’s childhood and adolescence. As a result, Drake believes he didn’t “have a father” growing up. 

However, Dennis himself claimed that he brought Drake down to Memphis every year, “from the time he was a baby in the car seat to the time he was 17.” Additionally, it was through Dennis’s influence that Drake was able to nurture his passion for music. In fact, Drake recalled that Dennis’s prison roommate, who rapped to Drake over the phone, sparked his love for hip-hop. 

Dennis claimed that Drake was using the “absentee-father” narrative to “sell records,” but Drake refused those accusations, saying on his Instagram, “My father will say anything to anyone that’s willing to listen to him.”

Though both Drake and his father’s testimonies don’t align in this case, it’s safe to say that Drake still didn’t grow up in the most stable household. Yet, at the same time, Drake still appreciates his father. 

My father is an incredible man—charming, talented, and stylish—and I’m sort of living the dream he had for himself. But his actions served as that reverse role model for me. There are a lot of things that I don’t ever want to do. I don’t want to miss years of my child’s life. I don’t want to put a woman on a roller-coaster ride.  none

Though it’s hard to confirm whose account is accurate, it doesn’t really matter because both dad and son have a wonderful relationship at the moment. Yes, they have disagreements and still hurt each other now and then, but they still hang out with each other when they can. Drake’s posted many photo albums over the years in which Dennis and Drake are seen mingling or drinking together. 

Coming from a broken home, Drake wants to “share memories” with his son Adonis

Credit: Drake Instagram/Snapchat

When Drake’s son Adonis was first born, the rapper was accused of “hiding” his son from the world. The media and the public didn’t know too much about Adonis’s first years, that is, until Drake chose to share his photos for the first time last year. 

Since then, Drake hasn’t shied away from letting the whole world into his private life with Adonis. From dropping his son off on his first day of school to celebrating his third birthday, Drake is routinely shown showering his son with love on social media. A lot of the affection can be attributed to how he wants to build a different sort of relationship with his son than the one he shared with his own family. 

I want to be able to go places with my son and share memories with my son. I don’t want to feel like just because of a life choice I made to be, you know, a ‘celebrity’ that I got to make everybody live under this blanket. I just wanted to free myself of that.  none

Though he’s not romantically involved with Adonis’ mother, Sophie Brussaux, Drake tries his best to co-parent with her. He knows all too well about what it’s like for the kid when the parents are constantly fighting or in different locations. Drake and Sophie didn’t expect to be in this particular position, but they have to make it work for Adonis’ sake. 

I was really hard on my parents for giving me sort of a childhood that I had to wrap my mind around as I grew. Multiple times I sort of suggested that they could have done a better job at co-parenting, sticking together, not being so divided.  none

At the same time, Drake is appreciative of the values his parents had instilled in him. His mother taught him about surviving and holding hope for a better future, while his father told him about honing his craft and live out his dreams to the best of his ability. He said that he’s “all of the things I’ve learned from and through my father and the incredible things I’ve learned through my mother about patience, about unconditional love..”

Your struggles will drive you to be a better person

Drake’s upbringing could have spelled disaster for the rest of his life, yet he barrelled through and emerged victoriously on the other side.  We’ll all have regrets about our upbringing and the conditions under which we were raised. We might feel that our parents could have done a better job and that we will forever remain scarred by their faults.

Yet, at the same time, it’s the same struggles that instill a drive in us that pushes us towards self-development and emotional fulfillment. Drake knew that it’s no use holding resentment for parents that tried to raise him the best given their circumstances. All he can do is set up a life for his son that’s vastly different from this own. Sometimes it’s best to lick our wounds and approach our future with some optimism despite the cards we’ve been dealt. 

More inspiring celebrities:

This Is Why Drake Took 3 Years To Embrace Fatherhood

Patrick Mahomes Only Has Eyes For One Woman–His High School Sweetheart

Gisele Bündchen Wrote Tom Brady A Heartfelt Letter to Save Their Marriage 

Keanu Reeves and Alexandra Grant Are More Than An Unconventional Couple

Shaoni Das

Shaoni Das is a writer based out of Alberta, Canada. Copywriter by day, true crime enthusiast by night - she has a passion for uncovering perspectives that capture the full spectrum of human nature. She deploys language as a way to connect with her audience and empower them to take action. When she's not writing or scouring the internet for ideas, you can find her playing Genshin Impact or eating Biriyani.

[lorna-d-m]

Lights Out: Ch. 26

Summary: Roxanne, recently graduated and unemployed, gets a call from her childhood friend and hero: her cousin James hunt. In need of a social media manager after one too many scandals, he can think of no one better than Roxanne for the position. Excited about a fun job and getting to know more about her cousin, she jumps at the chance. However, amongst all the bright lights of both the circuit and the media, Roxanne falls in love with his rival: Niki Lauda.

Pairing: Niki Lauda (Rush 2013) x fem!OC Roxanne Hunt

Word Count: 4.6k

CW: drinking, smoking, drug mention, talk of danger and accidents

A/N: Well folks, this is it. The final chapter. The Japanese Grand Prix. It's been an excellent journey, thank you for accompanying my on my first fanfic, and I want to give a special shout out to @scuttle-buttle for inspiring me and encouraging me, as well as many others for encouraging me to continue. Thank you. This is the end of the main story, but it's not the end for Roxanne and Niki. You can find more of them in the companion one-shot collection Away We Go.

previous chapter

Mount Fuji Speedway, Japan

October 10, 2021

The roaring of thunder and the cracking of lightning over the mountain woke Niki. Since he couldn’t sleep anyway, he pushed the blinds out of the way and peered out the window. There would be no avoiding a wet race, but he wondered how persistent the rain would be. He took his pulse from his wrist, knowing the rain would make him more nervous, but he didn’t want to let it affect him. If he could control his fear, then he could move on.

Roxanne stirred awake in the bed, missing Niki beside her, and she studied the freckles and moles that sprinkled across his back. Someday, Roxanne would memorize each and every one. She stayed quiet, unsure if he wanted comforting words, an uplifting statement, or just silence to reflect. Eventually, he wandered away from the window and off to the bathroom. When Roxanne heard the shower start to run, she realized he needed that moment alone to think. He would be uneasy with the rain and the final race looming over him, but she would do what she could to help him.

Down the hallway, James Hunt woke up surrounded by booze, women, and a line of cocaine that he ought to wipe away. He, too, heard the thunder, but he did not have the same fears as Niki. James squinted against the light, trying to make sense of the room, and the race. The championship race. Although not an anxious man, he felt that familiar flutter in his stomach. There was a chance to win it today, something he dreamed of but did not know if it was possible, and it was all there for the taking.

***

“So the long, grueling, and incredibly dramatic season comes down to this final race in Japan in the shadow of Mount Fuji.” Rain flooded the circuit with water running across the track at several places, little rivers before puddling to make lakes. The teams were forced to lay out boards and beams as makeshift walkways. Heavy fog limited visibility, shrouding the track and paddock with an air of danger and uncertainty. “Niki Lauda goes into this deciding race at Fuji just a few points ahead of James Hunt, Hunt knowing he must beat the Austrian fair and square to take the title.”

Rain leaked through every possible crevice, making everyone cold and uncomfortable in the wet. They sought refuge in the final pre-race press conference, designed specifically for the title contenders and to entertain the audiences. Niki, James, and their representatives all sat at a table, microphones and waters on the table, waiting for the questions to begin. Roxanne sat in the back of the room, deemed less or a priority than the dozens of press and reporters, but more important than anyone else to Niki.

“James, do you think you can cope with the pressure?”

“Well, I’ve never really understood what that means,” he answered, much to the audiences’ amusement. “I love my job. I love competing. I love racing.” James nervously fidgeted with a lighter under the table and bounced his leg. “Maybe you should ask Niki.” At his name, he couldn’t help but turn to look at James. “He’s the World Champion. He’s got everything to lose.”

“Mr. Lauda, are you feeling any pressure?”

Niki folded his hands together. “Do I look like I’m feeling pressure?” Roxanne could barely see him in the back and was forced to check the television screens. He was confident and sure of his measured words. “I am World Champion, and on the verge to become World Champion again. Hunt now has the opportunity to win,” James continued to twitch and fidget out of view, “but it’s not so easy to become a champion. You have to really believe it to make it possible.” Roxanne knew he did not mean those words harshly but rather sincerely. Everyone else, however, heard it as an insult to James’ dedication.

James chuckled at that which drew the attention back to him. He was always one to enjoy the spotlight, making special jokes and comments for the hell of it. In press conferences, he would always garner more sympathy and more admirers. James would be lauded and called funny and sarcastic while Niki would come across as an ass.

“James, is there anything you’d like to add?”

He made sure to emphasize every consonance. “If Niki is being tricky and getting a kicky out of playing mind games…” Niki scoffed and smiled, “...then fine, I’m flattered. But the fact is, the momentum is with me. I’ve never felt better. And I fully expect the next press conference we will have will be with me as World Champion.”

***

“Intermittent heavy rain has been forecast here at Fuji today, along with strong wind and occasional fog rolling in from the mountain.” Everyone layered in rain jackets and ponchos, and if they chose to use an umbrella they risked the wind flipping it inside out. It was the kind of rain that made socks wet and chilled to the bone but still, spectators and sportsmen alike braved the weather. “And so with today’s Japanese Grand Prix still to come, Lauda’s lead is a mere handful of points. What a way to finish the season.”

Niki stayed in his garage, rain pelting everyone and everything outside of it, with Roxanne waiting near him. She didn’t say much, unsure of what could or should be said, but merely her presence was enough to comfort Niki. He liked looking over his shoulder to see her there, in a bright red Ferrari rain jacket, his name printed in large letters across the back, and her hands warm when she touched him.

“Hunt or Lauda? Well, the final chapter will unfold when we bring you extended coverage…”

Television coverage. That’s why the race would continue. The television rights had been sold all around the world as the showdown between Niki Lauda and James Hunt was all anyone wanted to see. They’d been called to a meeting, shortly before their press conference, where they’d been instructed that the race would proceed no matter how uncomfortable the drivers felt. Niki wanted to protest, but with Ferrari breathing down his neck he didn’t need to fight the FIA and the Formula One group too. It was better to get on with it.

“All drivers to your cars please…”

Niki sighed and stared at his race kit. The balaclava and helmet sat on the table, waiting for him just like the rest of the world was. When he looked up, he locked eyes with Roxanne. She couldn’t mask the fear on her face, the way her eyes darted about and her lips turned down into a slight frown. Niki didn’t want to hurt her again- he couldn’t imagine how much pain she bore in Germany- and yet he picked up the balaclava. He was under contract, under oath, to get in the car.

Roxanne understood that when she married him. She knew there would be times they disagreed, times where she thought the track unsafe or he should travel less, but at the end of it all he knew all she wanted was for him to be safe and happy. That weighed on him as he leaned in for a kiss and climbed in the car. He thought he saw a small tear trickle down her cheek, incomparable to the rain that fell but monumental to Niki.

“You can see the McLaren mechanics there, puncturing holes in James Hunt’s visor. Supposedly, that’s to help let the condensation out, but it also lets the rain in.”

“Well, if you’re in the front row like he is then that’s not a problem. This is a race that hinges on the start, and if he can get away well it won’t matter.”

“Niki Lauda, sitting in third on the grid, will be looking to make up ground as they head into the first turn. Getting ahead of Hunt will be crucial for his race.”

Roxanne didn’t consider herself to be religious, but she found herself saying a prayer before the lights went out. Let James and Niki come home safe. As the camera panned over the grid, she caught Niki giving James a wave, and James reciprocated. It missed the commentator’s attention, but Roxanne figured that was just as good. Not every little thing between them needed to be spoken of and analyzed.

“Electric tension here at Fuji. Eighty-thousand bedraggled race fans and the racing grudge match of the decade.”

“And there’s Mario Andretti in pole position, James Hunt alongside him. On row two of the grid, there is Niki Lauda, and on row three of the grid, Jody Scheckter from South Africa. Behind him, the rest of the field.”

“And it’s lights out and away we go!”

***

There were only seven turns at the Fuji Speedway. Niki studied each one before the race, knowing exactly where to hit the apex and where to exit. And yet, none was more important than the first turn on the first lap. He couldn’t see shit in the spray of the tires, and he no longer worried about hitting the apex just right. Niki worried about staying on the track.

He moved left and right, trying to see if there was a spot out of James and Andretti’s spray, but if there was he couldn’t find it. In the cold and the wet, the tires barely had any grip, and he fought to maintain control of the car. Niki followed James around the outside of Andretti, deciding it was better to eat spray for a moment and see if he could pass than to stay where he was.

Not only was seeing the track an impossibility, reading his dials and his dash was apparently too much to ask for. Niki drove out of instinct, not reading the data but feeling it in the car. Since he couldn’t see the racing line, he found it with the car by feeling the difference in grip. He knew the road was still under him because he could feel the pavement rather than the grass. Other than that, Niki didn’t know anything about the race.

Niki knew he didn’t like the track conditions. Niki knew he didn’t feel happy or safe about racing that day. Niki knew he didn’t want to crash into the wall at 300 kilometers per hour, go headlong into James ahead of him after not seeing him breaking, or get t-boned by another car who couldn’t see him. Niki knew he wanted to return to Roxanne, spend more days on the beach with her or curled up in bed. Niki knew he wanted to spend a lifetime with her, and if he stayed on the track he couldn’t guarantee that.

***

“Lauda’s slowing! Niki Lauda is bringing the Ferrari into the pit.”

“A problem, we can’t imagine what, so early in the race.”

The team was just as confused, not seeing any data or reports on their monitors. As far as they knew, the car was good and Niki needed to get back out on track. Instead, he idled in the pit box and flipped up his visor.

“What’s wrong with the car? What’s wrong with the car?”

He flipped the switch and killed the power.

“Niki, what’s wrong with the car?”

“Nothing,” he finally answered. “Car’s perfect.” He handed the mechanics the steering wheel, unbuckled, and clambered out.

“What are you doing?”

“I’m stopping.” Niki ripped his helmet off and pulled up his balaclava, letting it rest on his forehead so he could speak clearly. “It’s too dangerous.” He could see Roxanne in the corner, and he wanted to reach her.

“You want me to say there was a problem with the car, for the media?”

“No,” he shook his head. “Tell them the truth.” He didn’t care if they thought him a coward or weak. The track was too dangerous for anyone to be racing on it, and someone needed to tell the truth.

Niki stormed through the garage and pulled Roxanne close to him. All he wanted when he was in the car was to hold her tight, feel her lips on his, and know that it wouldn’t be the last time. He tugged on her waist, and she followed him to his trailer to wait out the race.

***

“With Lauda out, James Hunt knows he has to finish this race in third place or higher to be World Champion.”

“But the job’s not done yet for James Hunt. In these dreadful conditions, he still has to go the distance.”

The married couple sat on the couch in his trailer, thigh to thigh, and tried to get warm. He changed out of his race suit and into a sweater and jeans, something he might have worn after the race, while Roxanne threw on a spare Marlboro sweater of his. She hadn’t expected needing a change of clothes in his trailer, but he was more than happy to give her something of his. They both sipped their coffee, knowing no matter how it ended they would be having a long night. Niki sat with his hands clasped together and his head down for some laps, not looking at the screen, but presumably still listening.

“Niki,” he lifted his head at her voice, “is there anything I can do for you?”

He regarded her carefully, knowing it was a genuine question that didn’t deserve a sarcastic remark such as, can you change the weather, can you turn back time in the season, can you undo a season of racing. She wanted to help him.

“No,” he finally answered. “You’re worth more than a championship to me.”

His eyes met hers, wide and full of conviction. He could win the title another year, but he couldn’t be without her.

“You asked me, once, how I would feel if James won the championship. I didn’t know what to say then, but I do now.” She waited for him to elaborate, taking his colder hand in hers. Her fingers were warm, holding his hand firmly and rubbing little circles across his knuckles. “I would have no regrets. Not one.” He stared into her eyes, making sure she understood him without him needing to trip over his words as he explained how much he loved her.

Roxanne squeezed his hand and nodded. She didn’t know what to say, even if her throat wasn’t choked up with tears, but Niki recognized that. He let her rest her head on his shoulder as they watched the race. Her tears fell on his shoulder, and he kissed her forehead. When the season was finally over, the cars and the garages packed up for the winter break, when all the journalists and reporters went home to follow some new story, and when the audiences would turn to some new attraction, Niki wanted to sun on the beach with her, spoil her with the ridiculous fruity drinks she wanted and tease her about her heart-shaped sunglasses, admire her ass in a bikini that barely counted as a swimsuit, and spend all night tangled in the sheets with her.

Some time passed, more laps of James leading the race which would mean he would take the title, and they both sighed heavily. “You know,” Niki glanced at her relaxed face, “People always think of us as rivals, but you know he is among the few I like and even fewer I respect. If he wins this championship, it is because he deserves it.”

***

At fifteen laps to go, Niki and Roxanne suited up again to return to the garage. James continued to lead, albeit his tires were blistering, and they figured they should be present for the deciding moment. Brambilla closed in on him, but James didn’t need to win the race to win the title. He only needed to finish in third place on the podium.

“Now we find Mario Andretti closing in on Hunt.”

The wind whipped into the garage, and everyone on Niki’s side crowded around the screens. There was no car to work on, so they anxiously awaited the results.

“Mario Andretti’s going past Hunt! Hunt is slowing. James Hunt seems to have a problem.”

Niki leaned in to murmur in her ear. “Despite the wet conditions, the tires will still wear incredibly fast.” He pointed a little to the screen for her as they showed Hunt nursing the car to the pits. “I’m not surprised he needs to change them.” Four laps to go, James entered pit lane.

If she poked her head out of the Ferrari garage and looked down the pitlane, provided the wind, rain, and fog allowed her, she would see James in the pit just like she did last season. She would see the treads worn off on his tires and the team scrambling to change them. Instead, she watched it all on the screen like she had been forced to do for Niki. It was ironic, and if she thought about it a moment more she would have found it funny, but at such a tense moment she didn’t think of it.

“Regazzoni’s Ferrari and Jacques Laffite in the Ligier have gone ahead.”

The Ferrari mechanics were sure as James stayed stuck in his pit box that Niki would win the championship. Some clapped him on the back and congratulated him, but Niki shook them away with a fierce glare. “Not yet,” he corrected them.

“A few laps ago, James Hunt was looking like champion elect. Now it looks as if it’s all gone wrong for him.”

“James Hunt rejoins the race in sixth position. There are four laps to go. Surely no way back for the Brit now.”

Niki knew not to underestimate his friend. He had passion and drive, and with enough sheer will it was possible for James to win the title. The McLaren car slid on the very edge, but James brought it back under control. The car twitched this way and that under braking, and Roxanne’s foot tapped endlessly against the floor in fear. He approached Laffite in the Ligier and was mere inches from the pit wall and the Ligier, and Niki took Roxanne’s hand in his own. Amidst a garage hoping for a falter, Niki understood how worried about her cousin she was.

Two laps from the end, Watson spun which promoted James up another position. He needed to swerve to avoid him, and James was lucky to see him in the conditions.

“He’s catching Regazzoni, but in these conditions, it’s one thing to catch up, it’s quite another to overtake.” On the final lap, it was imperative for James to make the pass. “He’s alongside Clay Regazzoni. This could be the World Championship… he’s got him!”

Everyone in the garage looked at Niki. James Hunt crossed the finished line, took the checkered flag, all in third place. Niki, meanwhile, studied the screen with a mixed expression. “James Hunt is now the champion of the world!” proclaimed the announcer. The cameras showed the exhilarating celebrations in the McLaren garage and the audience roaring with approval, but they didn’t show the surprised little smile on Niki’s face.

“Tell us, what are you going to do?” the reporter inquired as James approached the podium.

“I shall be getting drunk.” The people around him laughed. “It’s wonderful, absolute dream.”

“Are you okay?” Roxanne asked her husband. It had been a possibility until now; now it was official.

“Fine,” he answered. “Can we get out of here?” His eyes flickered to the teams, cameras, audiences, everyone he wanted to avoid at just that moment.

“Of course,” she smiled weakly at him, “of course we can.” She could only imagine all the questions and annoyances he would face if he stuck around. Roxanne could congratulate James later. “We can go wherever you want.”

Christmas Dinner, Hunt House

December 25th, 2021

It took surprisingly little convincing for Niki to attend the Hunt family Christmas dinner. When Roxanne approached him, sure she would need to persuade him with perhaps more than a kiss under the mistletoe, and yet he answered with a little shrug and a yes. It had to be better than a Lauda family Christmas, he reasoned, and at some point, he ought to meet Roxanne’s parents. While he would rather be snuggled up in some blanket covered bed, sipping warm drinks and spooning for “warmth”, he could do that for New Year’s instead.

Rather than show up empty-handed, Niki brought a nice bottle of wine and flowers for the host at Roxanne’s gentle prompting. Her parents gratefully accepted and led them on a little house tour despite Roxanne living there most of her life. Niki smiled politely and listened to them, making note of Roxanne’s belongings still in her room that she would want to move. Her closet was full to the brim of clothes, some of which she planned to take that night when they left. He grinned as her mom waxed lyrical about how happy she is Roxanne met someone nice and how she worried it wouldn’t happen. Niki knew by his wife’s blushing not to tease her any further.

Niki didn’t expect to see James Hunt sitting on the back deck smoking a cigarette at the end of his tour. He was a little hunched over, trying to stay warm, and Niki stood there for a moment more frozen than James must have been. After leaving the race two months ago, Niki couldn’t think of the last time he spoke with James. Roxanne’s mother requested her help preparing the meal in the kitchen, her dad sat on the couch watching some match or game, and Niki stared out the window at James.

“Where are the beers?” he asked Roxanne as she fluttered about the kitchen. She pointed towards the refrigerator, and he helped himself to two bottles. He didn’t particularly like the brand, but he knew if he didn’t drink it all James would. “James,” he called when he stepped out on the deck.

“Niki,” James realized when he stepped on the porch. He scrambled to get up, but Niki waved his hand and told him to stay seated. “Good to see you,” he said genuinely.

“Did you ever think we’d be here?” Niki thought as he sat down beside him and offered him a beer. James gratefully accepted it with two empty bottles sitting beside him. The yard and deck were dusted with a light layer of snow.

James quipped, “You mean seeing you at my aunt and uncle’s for Christmas, or world champions?”

“Both,” he chuckled and took a swig of his drink. There was much that could have been said, that should have been said, but neither man was one to get too sentimental. “James, there were many things that were sensationalized about the season that caught the media’s attention and became much bigger than they should have been, but you should know I’m happy that if anyone were to beat me, it was you.”

The new world champion regarded the former world champion carefully. They had a long history together dating back to being hot-headed jerks in Formula Three.

“Thank you, Niki, I think that’s the nicest thing you’ve ever said to me.” James grinned while Niki scoffed at that. They sipped their drinks, staring off into the yard in silence. Niki rubbed his palms together, feeling the cold a bit more than James, and wished he brought his coat. James cut the silence. “How about you? Have you been to Fiorano or Maranello?”

“Pre-season testing,” Niki answered simply.

“You’re relentless,” James commented, taking another drag of his cigarette.

“Thank you.”

“I’m not sure that was meant as a compliment.”

“When do you start testing?” Niki brought the bottle to his lips but didn’t drink yet. “Next week?”

James laughed, “No, what, are you nuts? I didn’t just win the biggest thing of my life so I could get right back to work.”

Niki turned sharply to his friend. “Why? You have to,” he asserted, “To prove to all the people who will always say you just won it because…” Niki trailed off and gestured vaguely with his hands.

“Because of what? Because of your accident?” James was taken aback. “Niki, is that other people or is that you?” Niki sighed, seeing how misconstrued his comment was. “I won, okay?” James continued, “On the all important day when it came down to it we raced on equal terms, equally good cars. And I put my life on the line and I saw it through.”

“And you call that winning?” Niki’s hand was cold, but he still held it up when he questioned James.

“Yes.”

“The risks were totally unacceptable. You were prepared to die,” Niki said harshly, “To me, that’s losing.”

“Yes, I was. I admit it.” James spoke bravely and confidently, defending more than just his decision in Japan but his entire outlook on racing and life. “I was prepared to die that day to beat you. And that’s the effect you have on me.” Niki chuckled as he dismissed the notion as foolish. “You’d pushed me that far, and it felt great. I mean, hell, isn’t that what we’re in this for?”

Unbeknownst to both Niki and James, Roxanne watched them from the kitchen window above the sink. She deliberately asked her mother to invite James for Christmas dinner, using whatever excuses or reasoning she needed to get him there, and she would bring Niki. They hadn’t talked since Japan, more than an exchange of pleasantries in much longer, and they were overdue for a conversation. She ran the same plate under the water until her mother walked by and turned off the faucet.

“To stare death in the face and to cheat it? Come on,” James urged, “there’s nobility in that. It’s like being knights.”

“You English, you’re such assholes,” Niki laughed. “You know my position, 20% risk.”

“No, no, no, Niki, don’t bring percentages into this. Don’t be a pro. The minute you do that, you kill what’s good about this. You kill the sport.”

Niki stared at his friend, realizing how much he misunderstood him. The percentages and the precision were what Niki enjoyed. The stopwatch was irrefutable. Either he was faster or he was not. It wasn't about bravado or playing at being a hero to Niki.

“James, it wasn’t just the risk that made me pull out of the race. If I crashed into the wall again, if I seriously injured myself or even died, it would have put Roxanne through hell. Every day was a struggle after the Nurburgring, and I can’t even imagine what could have happened in Japan.”

James sat there quietly. He didn’t have anyone to come home to at the end of the race. Throughout the season he was alone with nothing to lose and no one to consider. Niki, however, had a wife and would someday have children. He would never put himself in a situation of more than 20% risk, not just for him, but out of consideration for them.

“You love her, don’t you?” James finally asked.

“More than my damned pride,” Niki answered with a little smile. “More than the taste of victory champagne, more than the championship.”

James smirked and took another sip of his drink. “Treat her well, my ratty friend, she’s better than you deserve.”

“Don’t I know it,” Niki laughed and clinked their bottles together.

Roxanne grinned in the kitchen, glad her scheme worked and she could reconnect them as friends. They came shuffling inside soon after, nearly frozen still, but Niki placed a kiss on his wife’s cheek as he poured a hot cup of coffee to warm up. Niki unsuspectingly sat on the couch next to her father, not knowing he had a mile long list of questions about the car and racing. He wouldn’t mind answering though, not someplace that felt like home and made his wife so happy.

Tag list: @scuttle-buttle @lieutenantn @fictionlandslanddreams @danielbruhlswife @livvyshmiv @somethingthatsaysbubbles @hardlyinteresting