#cold fear 2015

[autisticsupervillain]

It's Fictional Throwdown Friday!

This Week's Fighters...

Tom Hansen vs Robert Cross!

Conditions:

No restrictions.

Scenario:

After the events of Cold Fear, Tom gets reassigned to Blackwatch for his proven proficiency in combating bioweapons. Robert Cross challenges him to a sparing match to see how advanced his skills are.

Analysis: Hansen

The ocean depths are a mysterious and dangerous place. At the lowest survivable levels of Earth's surface, strange creatures straight out of Lovecraft's nightmares evolved to survive the dark, cold, crushing depths of the ocean floor. And humanity was about to unearth some of its most dangerous creatures.

In the coldest parts of the Atlantic Ocean, Russian oil diggers discovered a new form of life within the ice they were mining. Exocels. Parasitic creatures that were completely uncategorized by existing scientific theories. Capable of overtaking the higher brain functions of their host and mutating them in response to dangerous external stimuli. Naturally, the crew of the Star of Sakhalin begain trying to weaponize these new creatures to sell for a profit. Predictably, it didn't work out. The ship was quickly overrun by mutant zombies and a distress call was sent out.

The call was answered by Tom Hansen, an officer of the United States Coast Guard who really wants to be Leon Kennedy. He and his crew were sent to rescue everyone on board, only to find everyone already dead or zombified. Narrowly surviving the massacre of his crew, Tom was left alone on the ship as the only thing stopping the Exocels from falling into the shadowy hands of the CIA.

Luckily, Hansen comes equipped with every weapon a survival horror protagonist could ever need. He comes decked out with the usual affair of pistols, shotguns, and automatic weapons, each laser scoped to ensure perfect accuracy. Even his standard M1911A1 can completely pop a human’s skull like it was made from confetti, to say nothing of his MP5, AK47, and Benelli M4. But all of that pales in comparison to his sawed off M79 Grenade Launcher to blow apart any Exomutant that gets hit by it, even shredding through Exo zombies that evolved specifically to withstand bullets and fire arms.

Tom would quickly adapt against the rapidly evolving Exocels, using a modified harpoon gun whose harpoons emitted a protein gas, allowing his shots to distract Exocels with delicious smelling harpoons. Perfect for luring them into a trap or grouping them together for a grenade. Hansen has fought through squadrons of Russian mercenaries, defeated invisible Exocel zombies, dodged a steel door that was blasted at him by an explosion, and survived getting infected by an Exocel that tried to eat him alive from the inside out twice.

With nothing but raw wit, determination, and witty one liners, Tom rigged the entire ship to blow with C4 and faced down the man behind the entire disaster. Kamsky, the mad scientist turned sentient Exomutant out to replace humanity with his zombified master race. Kamsky is strong enough to completely demolish a metal bridge just by jumping right through it, generating an energy equivalent to 397,700 kilojoules.

Source:

Ultimately, Hansen defeated Kamsky, blowing the Star of Sakhalin to pieces and exterminating the Exocel threat once and for all.

Analysis: Cross

Captain Robert Cross. The Specialist. The elite of the elite and Blackwatch's greatest operative. When everything's gone to hell and the zombie apocalypse is knocking on the door, he's the man the US government calls in. He's insurance. Cross contained the viral outbreak in the underground city of Springfield. He's chased down powerful infected by himself and killed them with his bare hand, and he's the only mortal man to fist fight Alex Mercer one on one and live to tell the tale.

So when the Blacklight Virus contaminated New York and turned Manhattan into a post apocalyptic warzone, Cross was called in. His mission: Kill Alex Mercer.

Cross would prove to be the most tenacious and devastating human opponent Alex would ever face. Cross had done his homework. He'd use a shock baton to keep Mercer at a distance, fire homing rockets to harass him from afar, and control the battlefield with tactical use of land mines and fire grenades.

Now, Cross is one of the earliest bosses in the game, so he doesn't actually scale to the endgame feats Alex demonstrated. No earthquake scaling or relativistic reactions for him. Mercer at this point in the story was still getting ragdolled by Elizabeth Greene.

That said, he's still clearly superhuman. Mercer in the early game could still dodge tank shells, catch helicopters, and tear down buildings by himself. Alex could even burst clean through a two foot thick metal door, a feat that would require roughly 235,600 kilojoules to perform.

Source:

How did Cross compete with this? He's Robert Cross, don't ask questions.

Even laying defeated, Cross still had one last trick up his sleeve. Realizing that Alex hadn't yet regained all his human memories yet, Cross would refer back to Alex's death at Penn Station, triggering a painful flashback that distracted Mercer long enough to be injected with a parasite. This virus would hamper Mercer's powers and nearly kill him, with Alex only escaping being brought in right there by sheer luck.

Unfortunately, this would be Cross's undoing. After Mercer expunged the parasite from his body, it would become its own entity, becoming the Supreme Hunter. It would then track Cross down, assimilate him, then use his memories to attempt to manipulate Mercer into helping it consume all life on the planet. Alex would only narrowly defeat it by the skin of his teeth.

In a way, even in death, Robert Cross was the biggest human threat that Alex Mercer would ever face.

Throwdown Breakdown:

This is a fairly simple fight, honestly.

Hansen should be pretty even with Cross in terms of stats. Cross scales to Mercer catching helicopters, while Hansen can dodge explosions, both being roughly in the hypersonic ranges of speed. If anything, Hansen should even be slightly stronger, 397,700 kilojoules vs Cross's 235,600. Buuuut, that's where it all swings the other way.

Cross is better equipped. His electric baton is a better melee weapon, his homing rockets allow him to destroy or get around Hansen's cover, while his incendiary grenades and mines give him better battlefield control over Hansen's mostly stock arsenal. Everything short of Hansen's grenade launcher is just completely outpunched by Cross's destructive weaponry.

And skill is something that Hansen can't even compete with. Hansen is a regular Coast Guard officer in out of his depth against the zombie outbreak he's faced with, while Cross was hand picked to be a part of Blackwatch, an organization designed specifically to combat such bioweapons. Cross's status as a legend by Blackwatch standards, as well as his ability to fisticuffs Alex goddamn Mercer, puts him on a different level of skill entirely.

Hansen would compete evenly initially, maybe even getting an early advantage with his greater strength and superior reflexes, but once Cross had his number, he'd be swiftly outmatched and beat down.

Then, Cross would offer him his hand, compliment his right hook, and welcome him to Blackwatch.

This Throwdown's Winner is....

Robert Cross!

[ice-man-goes-bwoah]

Miami heat||Jenson button x fem!wife reader + best friend Nico Rosberg

Summary—Y/N and Jenson Button, alongside Nico Rosberg and Danica Patrick, are commentating for Sky Sports F1 during the Miami GP.

Word count—1139

Warnings-Danica Patrick and her VERY WRONG information about f1.

@sinofwriting @checkeredflagggs @hangmandruigandmav who also saw little snippets of this

The Miami sun blazed overhead, casting a shimmering heat across the paddock as fans swarmed the grandstands. The Sky Sports F1 commentary team was perfectly positioned on their elevated platform, overlooking the track. Y/N sat neatly beside her husband, Jenson Button, her headset in place, and a bright slightly strained smile on her face.

To her right, Nico Rosberg adjusted his microphone, his practiced grin unwavering. And to his right…Danica Patrick. Clad in neon pink and speaking with the authority of a Wikipedia page last edited in 2012.

“So, I just really feel like Red Bull’s power unit is the best it’s ever been,” Danica announced confidently, her voice just a touch too loud. “They’re, like, running a Ferrari engine, right?”

Y/N’s brows knit together for the briefest second. Jenson’s hand found hers beneath the table, squeezing gently. “Fix your face,” he mouthed, barely above a whisper.

Nico cleared his throat, the mic picking up the sound with startling clarity. “Actually, Danica, Red Bull, runs Honda powertrains now.” He plastered on a tight smile. “It’s been that way for a couple of years.”

“Oh.” Danica blinked, then laughed a little too loudly. “I just thought, you know, Ferrari is so fast, it made sense.”

Y/N pressed her lips together, eyes locked on the monitor in front of her as if it would save her from saying something absolutely cutting. Jenson’s fingers drummed on the table. She knew that rhythm—three taps when he was trying not to laugh.

Danica continued, barreling straight through any logical pit stops. “And I just love how they keep referring to Monaco as the ‘American Grand Prix’—you know, because it’s so flashy and rich.”

Nico’s expression went blank. Jenson’s hand on Y/N’s tightened like he was physically restraining her. And Y/N? She blinked once, then twice. “Actually…” she started, voice sugar-sweet and so polite it almost sounded fake, “Monaco is…in Europe.”

Danica blinked back at her, oblivious. “Yeah, but, like, it has that American spirit. Flashy, loud, over the top.”

Y/N smiled tightly. “Just like you,” she murmured, her mic barely picking it up.

Jenson choked on absolutely nothing, hand coming up to cover his mouth as he faked a cough. Nico glanced at them both with wide eyes, then quickly leaned over, pretending to adjust Y/N’s mic. His voice was a whisper. “You gotta fix your face. Both of you.”

Jenson’s eyes met Y/N’s, blue and sparkling with mischief. “We’re trying, mate,” he whispered back, barely containing his grin. “But she makes it really bloody hard.”

Danica didn’t notice. She had already moved on, chatting about how McLaren was “probably still using the same engines from 2015.”

Y/N sucked in a deep breath. Jenson’s hand squeezed hers in warning. Nico just stared ahead, eyes deadened with acceptance.

“Now, I just think if Mercedes wants to improve, they should probably consider moving away from hybrid engines,” Danica declared loudly as if she were revealing the secret to cold fusion.

Y/N stared at her for a long, long moment. Jenson’s grip on her hand went rigid. Nico audibly gulped.

“Hybrid…engines?” Y/N repeated, voice deceptively calm.

Danica nodded enthusiastically. “Yeah! I mean, the grid’s moving toward all-electric, right? They should get ahead of it.”

Y/N’s hand slipped out of Jenson’s. He glanced at her, eyes wide with something like fear. “Babe…” he whispered, but it was too late.

Y/N turned fully to Danica, folding her hands in her lap like she was about to teach a Sunday school lesson. “Formula 1 is hybrid. It’s been hybrid since 2009. That’s…11 years of hybrid technology.” Her voice was sweet, eyes glimmering with barely concealed fire. “Also, the grid isn’t going all-electric. That’s Formula E. Entirely different sport. Different cars, different tracks. Different…everything.”

Danica blinked, smile plastered across her face like she hadn’t just been annihilated on live TV. “Well, you know what I mean.”

“Clearly,” Y/N replied, the smile not slipping. “You’ve got it all figured out.”

Jenson squeezed his eyes shut, head falling forward onto the table with a muffled thud. Nico’s hand slid up to cover his mouth, eyes wide and shining with barely contained laughter. “I warned you,” he whispered to Jenson.

Danica blinked, unphased. “It’s just confusing with all these different names. Formula 1, Formula E, IndyCar…like, are they even that different?”

Y/N’s eyes flared with the kind of disbelief usually reserved for flat earthers. She sucked in a deep breath, opened her mouth—

And the cameras cut to a sweeping shot of the Miami circuit, the roar of engines filling the awkward silence.

Nico let out a low whistle. “You’re gonna get us fired,” he whispered, still not looking her way.

Y/N finally relaxed back into her chair, arms crossed with satisfaction. “I’ll take that risk.”

Jenson finally raised his head, still stifling his laughter. “I married you for a reason.”

Y/N grinned, a glint of triumph in her eyes. “Remind me to never work with her again.”

“Oh, I don’t think you’ll have to worry about that,” Nico said, finally regaining his composure. “I’m pretty sure you just ensured it.”

They were on air again, Danica’s voice pitched with excitement as she explained something about “rear spoilers” and “how downforce isn’t really that important on street circuits.”

Y/N blinked, but Jenson was quicker this time. He reached out, squeezing her hand before she could open her mouth. “Love…think of the contract,” he murmured.

Y/N’s eyes flashed, but she leaned back. “For now,” she whispered back.

Nico looked like he was praying to every racing god that the segment would end soon.

But Danica wasn’t done. She turned with that same oblivious smile and addressed Y/N directly. “I noticed you kept correcting me earlier,” she said, voice dripping with forced sweetness. “If you want to be the expert, maybe you should sit in my chair.”

Jenson went still. Nico sucked in a breath so sharply it whistled. Y/N smiled. A real, bright smile. “Oh, I don’t need your chair to know what I’m talking about.”

Jenson’s jaw dropped. Nico’s hand shot to his mouth. Danica’s eyes widened. “Excuse me?” she managed, her smile slipping just a fraction.

Y/N leaned back in her chair, folding her arms. “I’m just saying—I don’t need a title or a seat to understand the sport. But…you know, maybe you do.”

Danica blinked, stunned into silence for the first time all day. The broadcast went painfully silent, and then mercifully the camera cut away to the starting grid.

Jenson’s hand found hers under the table, squeezing it with pure, unfiltered pride. Nico just leaned back, exhaling like he’d been holding his breath for hours. “I owe you a drink for that,” he whispered.

Y/N grinned. “You owe me three.”

[rosecoloredsunshine]

honey, you're familiar — james patrick march

masterlist | character.ai bot | part two

PAIRINGS: james patrick march x female!reader

SUMMARY: you are the reincarnation of his greatest love, the woman who mysteriously vanished from his life in the 1920s. though you have no memory of your past life, you are an exact replica of the woman he adored.

REMINDERS: please be reminded that this is a work of fiction. meaning that all events and occurrences in this story are all fictional and all are part of my imagination. any resemblance to actual life events and people, living or dead, are all purely coincidence.

WARNINGS: no use of y/n, reincarnation, slight implication of reader being murdered (if you squint enough), the countess does not exist in this fic, and minor typographical errors.

WORD COUNT: 1.4k

AUTHOR'S NOTE: hi! i've been rewatching ahs, and i wanted to give it a try writing for the ahs fandom. this will also be my first time writing for the ahs fandom. i also made a character.ai for this fic that is linked just above. i hope that you guys will enjoy this one! :)

2015

The night air was unseasonably cold for Los Angeles. You had stepped out of the cab with a soft huff, wrapping your coat tighter around your body as you glanced up at the building that stood before you. The Hotel Cortez. It loomed like a relic of another era, gothic and imposing, the dark stonework catching the dim city lights in odd angles. Truth be told, it wasn't your first choice, it was far from it, but after calling around every hotel in the city, it was the only place left with a vacancy. You had hesitated for a brief moment in the cab, chewing the insides of your cheeks, but what other option did you have?

Inside of the building, the lobby was a different world. Grand, in an old Hollywood kind of way, but there was something off. Maybe it was the silence, or the way the golden fixtures gleamed too brightly, as if they were watching you. You have your luggage in tow behind you, the sound of wheels clattering against marble floors echoing through the space.

From behind the front desk, a woman perked up at your approach. She was a much older woman, thin lips pulled tight over perfect teeth, hair styled in an immaculate bouffant that screamed another decade. Her name tag read Iris.

“Welcome to the Hotel Cortez,” she said brightly, but her eyes didn't seem to match the warmth in her voice. “Checking in?”

You nodded at her. “I need a room for the night…maybe two.”

Iris’ fingers clicked across the keyboard, an ancient looking machine that still required a punch of force on each key. “Well, lucky you,” she said, “we’ve got one left. Seems like the city’s just full up tonight.”

She then slid a paper across to you, pushing a fountain pen along with it. “Sign here, please.”

As you scrawled your signature across the page, you felt something in the air had shifted. It was subtle at first, like the faintest change in pressure before a storm. You did not notice it, but he did.

James Patrick March was standing on the mezzanine above, his hands resting on the brass railing as he stared down at you with eyes wide, unblinking. He had not known fear in his lifetime, he’s the kind of man who reveled in control, carnage, in bending fate to his will. His usual smirk was absent, replaced with something that is raw, something akin to disbelief.

His mind could not accept it at first. It had been nearly a century since he had last seen you. Since you had vanished without a trace, leaving him to scour the world for any whisper of your presence. But now, James watched as you tucked a stray strand of hair behind your ear, just the way you always had. Your fingers were delicate, graceful, as if they belonged on piano keys. Your profile turned toward Iris was devastatingly familiar, the high curve of your cheekbone, the sharpness of your fox-like gaze, even as your eyes darted so casually across the lobby in a way that suggested this place unsettled you.

You are here. His lost love. His obsession. His salvation and his damnation.

James’ chest constricted. You were unchanged. Not merely similar, but the same. Perfect. Flawless. As if God himself had honored James’ desperate plea for your return, despite his profound aversion to the Christian values. He descended the stairs without realizing he had moved, the sharp click of his shoes announcing his approach. Iris noticed him first and immediately stiffened. You did not see him at first, too busy retrieving your wallet from your bag.

“Sir,” Iris said, voice lower, deferential.

James’ voice was honey-drenched steel. “I will handle this guest personally, Iris.”

You turned then, startled. For a brief moment, the world seemed to pause. He stood before you, immaculate in a three-piece suit from another age, posture unnaturally straight, predatory yet elegant. His mustache was neatly groomed, and his dark eyes were captivating. It was as if they burned into you with such intensity that you took a small step back without thinking.

“I—” you began, voice soft and uncertain. “I’m sorry, but do I know you?”

His smile was slow, it was like a knife slipping beneath flesh. But there was something else there. Reverence and awe. “You will,” James replied, voice low and velvety. “In time.”

There was an unsettling calm to him, like the eye of a hurricane. Iris handed you an old-fashioned key on a brass fob before scuttling away, leaving you alone with the man.

James gestured toward the elevators. “Permit me to escort you to your room. It is the least I can do for a guest of your…exquisite standing.”

You briefly hesitated, but politeness was second nature. It had been drilled into you at finishing school, and this man spoke with such an archaic elegance, like he had directly stepped out of a Fitzgerald novel.

You offered a wary smile. “Thank you. That’s very kind of you.”

As he walked beside you, pace measured, James studied every delicate angle of your face. They way you held yourself, graceful and poised, just as he remembered. Your perfume was different, more lighter, but your skin—he could almost swear, still smelled faintly of rose and sandalwood.

“I’m James,” he said as you reached the elevator. “James Patrick March, the owner of this hotel.”

You nodded. “It’s very nice to meet you.”

The elevator doors opened with a groan, and he ushered you in, following closely. As the doors slid shut, you glanced at him, feeling the weight of his stare.

“What is it?” you asked softly.

James tilted his head, smiling in a way that made your stomach twist, half-charm and half-sinister. “Forgive me. You remind me of someone…very dear to me.”

You flushed faint at his words, but nodded, really unsure of what to say. As the floors ticked upward, James kept his hands behind his back, concealing how they trembled with restraint. He wanted to touch you, just to confirm that you were real. That you were flesh, and not some cruel hallucinations that had been conjured by centuries of longing.

When the doors opened, he stepped aside and let you lead the way, gaze never straying from you for an instant. You walked to the door that Iris had assigned you—room 64. He took the key from your hand with a touch that sent a straight shiver up your spine and opened the door for you. You crossed the threshold, feeling the strange energy of the room settle over you like a veil. As you set your bag down, James remained in the doorway, just watching.

His eyes darkened as he spoke again. “If there is anything, anything, that you require, you need only ask.”

You turned to him with a gracious nod, still smiling politely, though something about his intensity gnawed at you. “I appreciate it, Mr. March. Goodnight.”

James took a breath, lips parting as if to say something more. But he did not. Instead, he gently grabbed your hand and kissed it softly, as though you were a queen and he was a loyal knight.

“Goodnight, my dear.”

The door shut softly, but he stood there for a long time, staring at the wood as though he could see through it. His mind reeled. You were here, at his hotel. Alive. Returned. Though you bore no memory of the life you once shared, of the nights he whispered secrets into your ear and how your voice had caressed his name like a prayer as you lay tangled in his arms, of the dreams he had for the empire he was building with your beauty at its heart—he would remind you.

James would awaken the love you held for him. Brick by brick, memory by memory, he would reconstruct you into the woman who once adored him with such fierce devotion, and this time, you would never leave the Hotel Cortez. One thing was certain—James Patrick March did not believe in coincidences. Fate had returned you to him, and he had no intention of letting you go a second time, so he wasted no time and descended the stairs to find Iris.

He turned to Iris. “Send her dinner, something divine. And Iris…”

“Yes, Mr. March?”

James’ gaze was gleaming. “Nobody disturbs her. She is not to leave. The lady of the house is home at last.”

Then slowly, he smiled.

© rosecoloredsunshine, 2025

[literaryvein-reblogs]

Writing Reference: Fear

When you encounter a perceived threat, your brain thinks you are in danger and attempts to keep you safe through a fight-flight-freeze response. Sometimes, it is lifesaving; other times, it is incorrect or a poor match for the situation, for example:

Hearing a loud noise in the middle of the night

Jumping out of the way of a speeding vehicle

Feeling scared when walking down a dark alley

Being asked to give an impromptu speech

The following psychological threat examples may not result from the object or event itself (e.g., public speaking, social situations, or spiders) but from being afraid of the experience of anxiety associated with it (McCabe & Milosevic, 2015):

Panic attacks. Panic attacks can be part of the fear response in anxiety disorders and are sometimes associated with anxiety over losing control, dying, or “going crazy.” They can occur in threat-free situations.

Anxiety sensitivity. The fear of fear can result from the belief that the sensations (e.g., racing heart, rapid breathing, and sweating) signal imminent physical, psychological, and social harm.

Agliophobia. Agliophobia is the fear of pain or suffering in the short or long term. This condition can lead to extreme reactions, such as escaping or avoiding situations with even the slightest chance of injury. It is less about the pain itself and more about its anticipation (for example, a fear of needles).

Social anxiety disorder. This involves the fear of being judged or evaluated in social or performance situations, such as during interviews or when presenting. The anxiety or avoidance behavior associated with this fear can significantly impair quality of life.

The event itself is less important than the individual’s perception, impacted by knowledge, experiences, and expectations.

When the hypothalamus sends its distress signal through the autonomic nerves to the adrenal glands, the hormone epinephrine (adrenaline) is pumped into the bloodstream, resulting in (Harvard Health Publishing, 2020; Nunez, 2020):

Heartbeat speeds up, pushing more blood and oxygen to the muscles and other vital organs. During a freeze response, heart rate may slow.

Pulse and blood pressure increase.

Breathing speeds up to get more oxygen into the blood. During a freeze response, breathing may be interrupted or restricted.

Small airways in the lungs open wide.

Increased oxygen to the brain leads to increased alertness and sharpened senses.

Pupils may dilate to let in additional light, and hearing improves.

More blood sugar (glucose) and fats are released into the bloodstream to supply extra energy.

Ongoing perception of threat leads to further release of adrenaline and cortisol.

Skin may get cold or sweat, as can hands and feet.

Pain perception may reduce.

Once the perceived threat is over, the parasympathetic system begins to dampen the stress response.

Source ⚜ More: Notes & References ⚜ Writing Resources PDFs

[maeve-an-bhanchainti]

from a Facebook page called Fear And Loathing: Closer to the Edge

"Fabian Schmidt walked off a plane at Logan Airport expecting a routine trip home. Instead, he found himself stripped naked, interrogated for hours, and dumped into a cold shower — not because he’d committed a crime, but because the immigration system under Donald Trump’s second term is no longer just about catching criminals. It’s about breaking people — legal residents, green card holders, people who once believed they were safe.

Schmidt’s detention wasn’t some rogue act by an overzealous ICE agent. It’s part of a calculated effort to expand immigration enforcement beyond the undocumented population and into a new class of targets: lawful residents who, under the right circumstances, can be just as vulnerable.

"It was just said that his green card was flagged," Schmidt’s mother, Astrid Senior, explained. "He hardly got anything to drink. And then he wasn’t feeling very well and he collapsed."

Schmidt’s “crime” appears to be a long-dismissed marijuana charge from California, a case that never should have mattered under immigration law — yet suddenly did. He had influenza by the time they dragged him to Mass General Hospital. By Tuesday, ICE had packed him off to the Wyatt Detention Facility in Rhode Island, where he now waits for his fate to unfold.

This isn’t just a one-off case. Fabian Schmidt’s story is one example in a growing pattern — one where green card holders are facing aggressive scrutiny, detentions, and deportation threats over things that wouldn’t have raised an eyebrow five years ago.

If Schmidt’s ordeal felt arbitrary, Mahmoud Khalil’s situation was outright political. A Palestinian graduate student at Columbia University and a lawful U.S. resident, Khalil became a target after participating in pro-Palestinian demonstrations. There were no criminal charges, no accusations of violence — just a flimsy claim that his activism threatened U.S. foreign policy.

Under a dusty provision of the Immigration and Nationality Act, DHS is now seeking to deport Khalil on national security grounds — a legal trick that sidesteps the burden of criminal charges altogether. His case isn’t just about immigration; it’s about criminalizing speech.

"We’ve seen a disturbing trend from the federal government to target people who have legal immigration status," said Gregory Chen of the American Immigration Lawyers Association. "Denying a green card holder admission on such a minor charge would be an extreme case, but it’s possible under the law."

In Schmidt’s case, they found a 2015 marijuana charge. In Khalil’s case, they found a megaphone and a protest sign. Either way, it’s clear that the goal isn’t enforcement — it’s intimidation.

The system doesn’t need you to break a major law anymore. Trump’s immigration crackdown has turned green card holders into potential targets for things as small as missing a court notice or being affiliated with the wrong political cause.

Even Canadian snowbirds — retirees who legally spend winters in places like Florida and Arizona — are being swept into the paranoia. Under a new policy introduced by Trump’s administration, Canadians staying more than 30 days in the U.S. are now required to register with immigration authorities. The warning? Failure to comply could result in deportation or reentry bans — a thinly veiled threat wrapped in bureaucratic language.

The system now thrives on this kind of ambiguity. Green card holders who once believed they had stability now live in a constant state of second-guessing — unsure if they’re still “safe” in Trump’s America.

Fabian Schmidt’s detention didn’t happen in a vacuum. Neither did Khalil’s. These are the intended results of a system designed to break down boundaries between legal and illegal immigration. It’s no longer about status — it’s about vulnerability.

Donald Trump doesn’t need to march ICE agents door to door if he can create a climate where immigrants — lawful or not — feel hunted. Kristi Noem, with her gun-toting bravado, has only fueled that culture by turning DHS into an enforcement-first, accountability-last agency. And Stephen Miller, still lurking in the background like a bad rash, continues to push policies designed to confuse, trap, and punish.

The Schmidt case isn’t an accident. It’s a warning shot — a message that no one’s green card is truly safe. Schmidt’s bruises and Khalil’s legal limbo are just collateral damage in Trump’s obsession with weaponizing immigration enforcement."

[drarryspecificrecs]

H/D Wireless 2023 : (fics only)

@hd-wireless || official masterpost || AO3 || stats: 60 works The Mods : @candybarrnerd, @gnarf & @maesterchill Banner © :

@gnarf (official banner)

@itsphantasmagoria's Alive - ♫ Alive (2015) by Sia

@babooshkart's keep driving - ♫ Keep Driving (2022) by Harry Styles

---

★ The playlist : Youtube | Spotify

(you) find me when the lights go down by @beyondtheclose [T, 1k] ♫ save me from the monster in my head (2020) by Welshly Arms

About This Place by @academicdisasterfic [E, 10k] ♫ You And I (2011) by Lady Gaga

All I Think About by @skeptiquewrites [T, 4k] ♫ Heat Waves (2020) by Glass Animals

All the Colors in the World by @autumnsup [M, 11k] ♫ Cinnamon Girl (2019) by Lana Del Rey

All These Little Things by @cluelesspigeons [M, 1k] ♫ Little Things (2012) by One Direction

Before the Cold Sets In by @crazybutgood & @vukovich [T, 9k] ♫ Cold Tea Blues (2021) by Cowboy Junkies

Better not Touch (Don't Touch) by @dreamingandwideawake [E, 8k] ♫ Poison (2005) by Alice Cooper

The Boys of Summer by @saxamophone [E, 19k] ♫ The Boys of Summer (1984) by Don Henley

Burst of Love by @drarryruinedme7 [E, 3k] ♫ Jealous (2014) by Nick Jonas

Can't Get You Out of My Head by @use-it-well [E, 26k] ♫ Can't Get You Out of My Head (2001) by Kylie Minogue

Don’t hate him when he gets up to leave by @deliciousblizzardshark [M, 2k] ♫ Two-Headed Boy (1998) by Neutral Milk Hotel

the eighth sin by @thehoneybeet [E, 16k] ♫ Seven Devils (2011) by Florence + The Machine

Everybody Hates a Tourist by @wolfpants [E, 51k] ♫ Common People (2011) by Pulp

I only want the ones I envy (I envy) by @porcelainheart3 [E, 13k] ♫ MONTERO (Call Me By Your Name) (2021) by Lil Nas X

if i could never give you peace by @poisonivy206 [E, 17k] ♫ peace (2020) by Taylor Swift

If You Took the Time to Try by enoby_w [T, 18k] ♫ Go Like (2019) by Fox Stevenson

If You Were Gay by @inheartofwinter [G, 9k] ♫ If You Were Gay (2003) by John Tartaglia & Rick Lyon

LA, Who Am I To Love You? by @epitomereally [E, 42k] ♫ Venice Bitch (2018) by Lana del Rey

love is just a shout in the void by @ravenesse [M, 4k] ♫ i'm in love with u, sorry (2017) by j'san

Lover, Where Do You Live? by @dodgerkedavra [E, 38k] ♫ Lover, Where Do You Live? (2014) by Highasakite

Mirrors inside me by @cavendishbutterfly [E, 6k] ♫ Love Language (2022) by SZA

A Pureblood's Guide to Driving and Apostasy by @meandminniemcg [E, 9k] ♫ I'm On Fire (1979) by Bruce Springsteen

Rich Friend by @sorrybutblog [E, 18k] ♫ Rich Friends (2017) by Portugal. The Man

Seven Days, Seven Memories by @queenie-jinny [E, 25k] ♫ Please, Please, Please, Let Me Get What I Want (1984) by The Smiths

Shut Up, This Is Love by @thunderfiction [M, 33k] ♫ The Chain (1977) by Fleetwood Mac

Snitches & Sitches by @multiverse-of-fanfic [T, 4k] ♫ Once Upon a December (1997) by Liz Callaway

so scarlet it was by @hanniballevter [E, 19k] ♫ Maroon (2022) by Taylor Swift

Stars By the Pocketful by @phoebe-delia [E, 2k] ♫ Snow On the Beach (2022) by Taylor Swift feat. Lana Del Rey

Sun Thief by @floydig [E, 28k] --- ART by BlackRose532 Anti-Hero (2022) by Taylor Swift

Take You Home by @lqtraintracks [E, 26k] ♫ F*** the Pain Away (2000) by Peaches & Take You Home (2019) by Dido

Title & Possession by @kbrick [E, 49k] ♫ Misery Loves Company (2021) by Asking Alexandria

The Two Of Us In Sympathy by @ladderofyears [M, 5k] ♫ Rent (1987) by Pet Shop Boys

Vipera Berus by Justlikewriting [M, 20k] ♫ Just Pretend (2022) by Bad Omens

The Waiting by @oknowkiss [E, 43k] --- ART by @babooshkart This Tornado Loves You (2009) by Neko Case

Waking Up Slow by @sweet-s0rr0w [E, 21k] --- ART by @ihopeyoubothstaysafefromharm The Christmas Song (2011) by The Raveonettes

Weapons of Massive Consumption by @sandervansunshine [E, 38k] ♫ The Fear (2009) by Lily Allen

What is this feeling? by @fanficandlit [E, 4k] ♫ What Is This Feeling? (2003) by Idina Menzel & Kristin Chenoweth

What We Left Behind by @peachydreamxx [E, 32k] ♫ The Day We Caught The Train (1996) by Ocean Colour Scene

—

✔ other fests in 2023 ✔ fests in other years ✔ H/D Wireless : 2022 | 2021 | 2020 | 2019 | 2018 | 2017

[biblomaniac]

Warm.

Lena felt almost uncomfortably warm, body nearly sticking to the cotton sheets she was in. The position she found herself in was familiar, Kara wrapped comfortably around her back, arm thrown carelessly over her waist.

However, despite waking up in a familiar bed, in a familiar position, something was drastically different. She was naked. Naked. With Karas arm across her waist and hand spread protectively over her stomach. What. The. Fuck.

She lifted the duvet carefully, trying to assure herself this could absolutely not be happening. Yet, lo and behold, she was indeed without clothes, and so it seemed was Kara.

Panic consumed Lena’s groggy mind. Her body tensed, all thoughts of warmth and comfort replaced by fear. She prepared to leave, deciding it would be best to get up quickly, but that plan failed almost instantly.

It seemed that even in sleep, the blonde was very aware of her surroundings. She was intent on keeping Lena in the bed with her. The hand on her stomach pulled her body back into the hard plane of Kara’s midsection.

Dear God. This is not going well.

Lena doesn’t move, staying stock still as she waits for Kara’s breathing to settle back into a gentle rhythm before trying to escape again. This time, she scoots slowly out of the bed, replacing herself with the pillow she laid on last night.

This time, she’s successful, managing to tiptoe away from the bed, watching as Kara frowns into the pillow she now clutches. A moment goes by, Lena watching in anticipation as Kara relaxes back into the bed, inhaling the scent of the pillow.

Whew. Close one.

Making her way past the curtain that divides Kara’s bedroom and living room, Lena manages to locate most of her clothes from the night before, sans her underwear. The panicked brunette pulls what she can find on quickly, grabbing her dead phone and heels left sitting haphazardly by the door before exiting the apartment. Once in the elevator, Lena rubs at her throbbing forehead, eyes pressed tightly together with only one thought coursing through her mind,

What have I done?

__________________________

Cold.

There was a calming warmth next to her body last night that is absent when she awakes. Kara reaches her hand out, feeling the cool sheets on the empty side of the bed instead of a snuggly Lena.

She frowns, opening her eyes and searching for her companion. She scans the bedroom, empty; turns on her x-ray vision to see into the kitchen, empty; and spreads her hearing to the bathroom, empty.

Kara throws off the sheets, emerging from her room to look in the living room, seeing every trace of Lena missing. Her heart aches, thinking that Lena would leave so soon after what they’d done last night. Her thoughts spiral, quickly becoming negative. She tries to think logically, reasoning what she knows about her paramour with her actions last night and this morning.

Maybe last night wasn’t good for her.

But Lena would’ve said something in the moment, right?

I guess I’m not what she wants.

But Lena wouldn’t have kissed her, had sex with her, fallen asleep with her after if she didn’t feel something in return.

No. Lena’s always busy. Maybe she just had an emergency at L-Corp.

A plausible excuse indeed, yet it saddens Kara to think that last night didn’t mean enough to Lena for her to stay, or at least wake Kara up to say goodbye.

The hero decides that she has to see Lena today, to clarify what last night meant for them. The first order of business is to shower. Kara spends extra time under the water thinking about what to say and do around Lena when she’s sees her. She doesn’t want to come off too strong, or emotional, or too clingy.

Leaving the bathroom, Kara quickly dresses in an olive Henley, black slacks and brown loafers. She searches through her jewelry box for the Figaro link chain Lena bought her for her last birthday. Once the treasured piece is found, Kara exits her apartment, closing the door behind her and setting off to Noonans to grab a late breakfast before searching for Lena.

____________________________

Once at home, the brunette immediately goes to the bathroom, intent on washing the shame of her mistakes away. She sheds her clothes quickly, dropping them into the hamper before turning the water on in the shower. Turning around to grab a rag, Lena catches a glance of her body in the mirror.

Jesus.

Lena’s body was covered in love bites, some red, others purple, and a few already turning green with healing. If Lena hadn’t woken up where she did, she would be concerned about the logistics of how she got all these bruises. Her fair skin has always been prone to bruising, leaving her with one bruise or another at any given time.

The scientist pokes and prods at a few, relieved that they don’t seem to hurt. Honestly, she can’t believe Kara did this. The mild-mannered reporter may be made of steel, but she’s still the sweet, goofy, woman she met years ago in her office.

Lena stares at her reflection until the mirror is too foggy to look in. She gets into the shower, careful of the hot water.

I’m bruised enough as it is. I don’t need to add any burns to the mix.

Overall, her shower is quick, washing her body and hair thoroughly before stumbling through the doorway into her bedroom. Ruffling through the drawers, Lena pulls out a pair of panties and a shirt Kara left behind ages ago but Lena has failed to return. The oversized shirt is comfortable and still vaguely smells of Kara. Once dressed, Lena drops heavily into her bed, shuffling under the covers.

Her eyes water, and she finally gives into the urge to cry.

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

After buying a few too many pastries, Kara listens for Lena’s heart, finding it in the CEOs own apartment, but beating just a tad too fast. Kara zones in, making sure that Lena is okay. The lub-dub of the brunettes heart is quick, not in fear or distress, but in anxiety.

Kara forgoes the walk across town she planned to take, choosing to find an alley to fly off from instead. As her updated Super-suit materializes from her glasses, Kara wraps her breakfast in her cape, wanting to keep it warm and safe from the wind. It only takes Kara half a minute to reach Lena’s balcony across town. She touches down gently, deactivating her Super-suit while using her handprint to unlock the balcony door.

“Lena?” Kara calls, wanting to announce her presence.

There is no response.

Moving into the spacious living space, Kara sets the pastries on a tray in the oven to keep warm, more than familiar with the layout of Lena’s home after years of friendship.

She makes her way into her best friend’s bedroom, wanting to talk to Lena about their night together. When she knocks on the door, she receives no response.

“Lena? It’s me, Kara. Your, your best friend. Can I come in?” She receives no response.

“Lena? I know you’re in there. If you don’t say no, I’m going to come in.”

Kara waits for a no, but when she hears nothing through the door but sniffles, she enters the room. She immediately spies Lena under the covers, trembling softly. The blonde sits on the bed, pulling the covers back slowly, only for Lena to hide her face in her arms.

“Lee, what’s wrong?” she questions.

Lena only cries harder, soft sniffles devolving into full blown sobbing.

“Oh, Lee. C’mere,” Kara lifts Lena’s body to lay in her lap, cradling her close. One hands rubs Lena’s spine, noting the shirt she’s been missing for months, while the other cards through inky black hair.

Lena presses her face into a toned stomach, hiding her obvious tears from Kara.

“Why are you here?” she cries. Lena was convinced their relationship would be ruined. It makes no sense that Kara would be here, consoling her so sweetly after last night.

“What do you mean? I came to talk. I woke up and you were already gone,” Kara says. She’s embarrassed to have to explain further, but Lena’s reaction is confounding.

“I’m sorry, Lena. If it wasn’t good, or I did something you didn’t like, you can tell me. I would never want to ruin our friendship over something as trivial as—as sex.” she stutters.

The brunette releases a strangled sound, moving away from Kara’s lap. She sits among the island of pillows on the bed, arms circling her legs as if to protect herself from the self-imposed onslaught of emotion.

“Trivial?” she questions, fear and anxiety turning into a spark of anger.

“Ye—yeah? It’s just sex, if you want it to be. I would never let that ruin our friendship. You mean more to me than that.” Kara tries to explain.

“It’s not, it’s not trivial, Kara! It meant something to me,” Lena says ashamedly, head turning away to stare at the wall.

Kara is more confused now than she was mere moments ago. “So what’s wrong? I don’t understand. Why are you crying if it meant something to you?”

“Because—because everyone leaves after! No one sticks around after they’ve taken what they wanted from me. So I decided to leave, before you could,” Lena explains, voice watery.

“I was never going to leave, Lena. We were in my apartment for Rao’s sake!”

“You know what I mean! No one wants anything from me but my mind, my money, or my body. No one wants the Luthor bastard—“

“Hey! Don’t say that,” Kara starts.

“Why not? It’s true, it always has been.”

Lena looks downright pitiful. Beautiful eyes watery, face wet with tears and lips trembling as she tries to hold in her cries.

“I want you!”

“No you don’t!” Lena denies, voice rising hysterically.

“Lena, I would never use you like that. Is that what you think of me; that I’m some vulture?”

“I don’t know what to think! Everything happened so fast. One minute we were on the couch watching a movie and the next we were together in your bed. What more could you have wanted?” Lena questions hotly.

“You, Lena. Rao, I’ve always wanted you,” the blonde confides.

Lena denies her claim swiftly, harshly wiping her face with the back of her hand, “You don’t mean that.”

“Of course I do, Lee. Why would you sleep with me if you thought it wouldn’t mean anything?”

“I…I was weak. I’ve wanted you for so long. I couldn’t deny the chance to have you, even if knew it would break me the next day.”

Kara reaches for Lena’s arms, pulling them away from her body and towards her own. Using one hand to tilt Lena’s head up, the hero urges Lena to face her.

“Look at me, Lena.”

When emerald eyes meet her own, Kara smiles softly. “I told you last night; I love you. I didn’t lie to you. I love you, with every fiber of my being. You mean the world to me, Lena Luthor.”

Hearing a declaration she’s only dreamed of, the scientist surges forward, intent on kissing Kara as quickly as possible. Kara has to lean back, just enough so that Lena doesn’t crash into into the equivalent of a brick wall. Their kiss was short, but sweeter than pure sugarcane.

“I love you, too. I’m sorry for leaving. I was scared,” Lena says against Kara lips.

Kara pecks her lips once, twice, three times before she replies.

“It’s okay, Lee. I forgive you. I love you so much,” she repeats.

Lena is forming her reply when a loud growl erupts from the aliens stomach. The pair burst in laughter, thankful for the levity Kara’s stomach of steel has brought.

Lena edges off the bed, reaching a hand back to Kara once she stands. “Okay, let’s go feed the monster.”

Kara agrees quickly, grabbing the outstretched hand in her own. They’ve just passed through the doorway into the kitchen when Kara stops walking, pulling Lena back to herself by their connected hands.

“Kar, what—“

Kara cuts Lena off with a kiss. It’s deep and passionate, sweet like candy and right as rain. When Kara disconnects a few moments later, she lays a peck to Lena’s cheek before resuming their trek to the kitchen.

“C’mon, Lee! I’m starving.”

Lena just follows willingly, dazed and in love.

[moonlitconfessions]

EPISODE 2: THE MOMENT I CAME BACK

Your eyes fluttered open to the harsh, sterile glow of fluorescent lights. The white ceiling above spun faintly, your head pounding as if you’d been caught in a storm. For a moment, your body felt like it wasn’t yours—heavy, foreign, fragile. The soft hum of computers and muffled voices echoed faintly, grounding you in reality.

You blinked several times, forcing your vision to clear. Your gaze fell on the familiar desk, the scattered papers, the blinking cursor on your monitor. And then your eyes locked on the date — June 4, 2015.

A cold shiver ran down your spine.

You were back.

Back in time.

Back before the night that had stolen everything from you.

A thousand memories crashed through your mind, overwhelming your senses. Caleb Xia’s piercing gaze — once filled with promises — now only haunted by betrayal. Miya Qin’s smile, sweet and poisonous, a mask hiding the dagger she’d plunged into your back.

You remembered the moment you found them — together — the way your heart shattered in slow, painful pieces. The shove that sent you falling, the cold ground rushing up to meet you, the world turning black.

And now… you were alive.

Alive and breathing.

But nothing was the same.

You tried to steady your breath, the air feeling thick in your lungs. The pounding in your chest echoed the chaos inside your head. You wanted to scream, to run, to hide from the ghosts of your past — but you couldn’t.

Because the ghosts were here.

They were real.

Caleb and Miya.

They stepped into view, their presence like a dark storm descending. You felt your body freeze — the fear wrapping around you like chains. Your pulse raced uncontrollably.

Caleb’s eyes met yours, and in them you saw a flicker of something you couldn’t read. Regret? Guilt? Or just cold calculation? His voice was calm, deceptively gentle as he said, “Hey.”

Miya’s smile was the same smile you remembered — sharp, dangerous, a reminder of every lie she’d ever told.

Your hands trembled at your sides, but you forced yourself to stay still. You couldn’t let them see the crack in your armor, not now. Not when you were the one who held all the cards this time.

The memories screamed in your mind — betrayal, pain, the moment your world fell apart — but you shoved them down, turning them into fuel. Fuel to burn away the weakness you’d once felt.

You had been given a second chance.

A chance to watch, to learn, to fight.

You would not be broken again.

Caleb took a step closer, his expression softening for a moment. “You okay? You look… off.”

Your lips pressed into a thin line. “I’m fine,” you said quietly, though the tremor in your voice betrayed you.

Miya tilted her head, eyes sparkling with something unreadable. “You look tired. Maybe you should take the day off.”

You swallowed hard, fighting the wave of nausea rising in your throat. The kindness in their words was poison — a mask hiding their true intentions.

Your mind raced, weighing every possible move. You had to be careful. You had to stay strong.

Because this time, you weren’t the helpless girl they’d fooled before.

You glanced at the clock. Hours until the dinner that would seal your fate — the night that had led to your death.

But now, you had a plan forming in the depths of your mind. Step by step, you would unravel their lies. You would watch their every move. You would make sure they never hurt you again.

Your fingers clenched into fists on the edge of the desk. The past was behind you now, but the future was unwritten.

And you were ready to write your own story.

Taglist: @nezuswritingdesk @lunia-likes-pomegranet @sapphic-daze @sylusgirlie7 @lavunyan

[megpricephotography]

2 pictures of Flynn, taken 9 years (+ 1 day!) apart. October 2015 & 2024. Flynn's changed quite a lot in appearance over the years... & even more so in behaviour. It's taken most of a lifetime but he's come a long, long way. At the time I took the first pic, Flynn was 2 years old & I'd had him about 8 months. He was effectively untouchable. Minor interactions were fraught with fear & stress - on both sides. I could just about put a harness on him for walks but that had to be done very carefully & no matter how careful I was, I was always risking a bite... Showing him physical affection was out of the question, Flynn could not tolerate it at all. He did like to play with me & was bonded to me, in that he'd follow me about & had no inclination to run off but he was so, so defensive & nervous that I'd do something painful or scary to him. He once came & sat beside me while I was sitting reading a book... I turned the page & Flynn caught sight of my hand moving, thought I was sneakily trying to reach for him & he immediately bit me several times, before running off to hide. Today, 11yr old Flynn is a greyer in the face & little slower & more achy than he used to be. But he is so much happier. He comes wiggling up to me for a brief, gentle "cuddle" each morning when we get up for breakfast, he sits for a comb most afternoons, wags his tail as he gets ready for a jacket to be put on whenever it's wet or cold, he actively seeks out physical contact when he's worried about dogs or vet visits, he leans into my touch when I scritch his neck... & when I bend down to tie my shoes before a walk, I have to watch out because I'm liable to get a tiny little sneaky lick on my nose! When Flynn's nearby & I move my hand, he simply assumes I'm offering a treat & he perks his ears, makes eye contact & then nudges my fingers with his nose.

[ingek73]

Dispatches documentary reveals shocking state of Duchy of Cornwall properties

ByNick SommerladInvestigations Editor

16:00, 2 Nov 2024

Scores of rental properties owned by Prince William fail to meet the minimum legal energy efficiency standards for landlords, we can reveal.

We found some of his tenants are at risk of fuel poverty, living in hard to heat homes that are riddled with damp and black mould. Our investigation with Channel 4 Dispatches has found that as many as one in seven of William’s inherited Duchy of Cornwall’s residential rental properties have the lowest Energy Performance Certificate ratings of F or G.

It comes as the taxpayer is funding a £369m renovation of Buckingham Palace and Prince William launches his campaign against homelessness and for “everyone having a right to a safe and stable home”. One tenant said: “The slick PR will stick in the throat of many tenants. He should start by bringing the homes he already owns up to modern standards.”

Claire Williams meeting William's father, King Charles

Tenant Claire Williams was evicted last week over rent arrears ( Image: MIKE ALSFORD/MWP)

The Duchy has more than 600 rental properties and over a 15-month investigation we identified nearly 500 of them. We found 50 Duchy properties rated F and 20 rated G, including six properties with the lowest EPC score of one point out of 100.

We spoke to a number of tenants on condition of anonymity who are living in cold, poorly insulated homes, often without central heating and many relying on the most expensive solid fuels for heat. It has been illegal since 2020 for landlords to rent out properties that are rated below an E under the Minimum Energy Efficiency Standards regulations without a valid exemption.

Since the new rules, Prince William and the previous Duke of Cornwall King Charles III have between them received £91m in profits from the Duchy. One tenant with no central heating spends hundreds of pounds a month on coal and wood to heat just two rooms in his house.

He told us: “It gets miserably cold especially in the winter, you can see through the roof. I can only heat two rooms in my home using a wood burner and a coal fire, and the landlord told me that my rent was going to be put up considerably if they put in radiators."

Claire's home is filled with damp and mould ( Image: MIKE ALSFORD/MWP)

He claimed: "There is mould appearing on soft furnishings and clothes because the air is so cold and damp. To make my property efficient it needs to be insulated but they won't do that because of the cost. But you don't want to say anything against your landlord for fear of eviction. There could be consequences.”

Another elderly tenant with no central heating and just one fireplace for warmth was under a blanket when we visited his home in early September. A third told us: “The house is freezing. We were told that it is uninhabitable. When the wind blows the curtains start swinging. There’s no heating upstairs at all.

“I asked about double glazing and they said Prince Charles doesn’t like it. Well he doesn’t have to live here.” A fourth said: “The house is cold and it is a struggle but there is nowhere else to live here. They are not good landlords.”

One Duchy tenant who let us take photos of her home is Claire Williams, 53, who was evicted last week over rent arrears – which she disputes. She says she wasn’t told when an energy assessor found her former farmhouse outside Exeter was rated F in 2015. But she says she has struggled with cold and damp since she moved in more than 20 years ago.

Parts of the house which are below the ground level feel wet to the touch and are covered in black mould that Claire says she has never been able to stop growing back. She said: “As much as I tried to cover it up with mould sealer it just comes back.

Some tenants have spoken of their poor living conditions ( Image: MIKE ALSFORD/MWP)

Prince William and King Charles at the Army Aviation Centre in Stockbridge, Hampshire, in May ( Image: Getty Images)

“Any wallpapering or any painting I do, after a couple of months it just peels off. I've complained about it for 21 years. The repaint was done about a week before I moved in so you couldn't see it.”

Claire says the house has become increasingly expensive to heat: “I have to heat the house where all the heat is going out windows. I have to pay an awful lot for oil. It is just so expensive when you know you are paying all this money into a property and it's heating outside.”

She used to pay £430 to fill her 3,000 litre oil tank, but it now costs £600 for just 500 litres that last only three months. "I can never afford to fill my tank," Claire added. She said she only found out about the poor EPC rating when she was asked to leave: “When I got my eviction letter, I phoned Citizens Advice.

“They checked it out on the internet and said 'It's an F, you shouldn't be living there. You shouldn't be paying to live there and it's illegal to let that property out'. I think the Duchy are saying that I've lived here too long. You can live in conditions that are dreadful because I have lived here too long.

“They don't seem to have any consideration for the people that have lived in their houses for a length of time. They try to save money on people's lives to gain money for themselves." After the Duchy began eviction proceedings against Claire, inspectors from Mid-Devon Council visited her home and served the Duchy of Cornwall with a "hazards awareness notice" over the conditions. They found "damp and mould growth" and "excess cold" throughout the property.

The conditions inside another Duchy of Cornwall property

The Duchy of Cornwall would not comment on Claire’s EPC but said it was a “responsible and compassionate Landlord” and only evicts tenants “in rare circumstances where all other alternatives have been exhausted”. A Duchy of Cornwall spokesperson said: “We are a responsible Landlord committed to continuous improvement of its properties. We work closely with our tenants to actively address energy efficiency of properties across our portfolio while minimising the impact on residents.

"The Duchy of Cornwall is a private estate with a commercial imperative which we achieve alongside our commitment to restoring the natural environment and generating positive social impact for our communities. Prince William became Duke of Cornwall in September 2022 and since then has committed to an expansive transformation of the Duchy.

“This includes a significant investment to make the estate net zero by the end of 2032, as well as establishing targeted mental health support for our tenants and working with local partners to help tackle homelessness in Cornwall.” We showed our dossier of evidence to EPC expert Andrew Parkin, director of Elmhurst Energy and chair of the trade body Property Energy Professionals Association, who said: “That does surprise me.

“I would kind of expect to see a very small landlord here as somebody who doesn’t really understand the regulations. Every landlord has a responsibility for the buildings that they own and the tenants that are in those buildings.

“The vast majority of people agree that we have to improve our building stock, not just for the people who live in those buildings, but also for the planet and for reducing our impact on the planet.” He examined a handful of EPCs from the Duchy’s rentals and said about one: “Well, this is the worst performing kind of property. It is more likely to be a cold, draughty, hard to heat property. It certainly will be expensive to heat the property �� the rating is is very, very low indeed.

Some of William's tenants are at risk of fuel poverty

About another, he said: “It has also got solid fuel heating and solid fuel room heaters, which is a very inefficient and very expensive way of heating a property. A lot of carbon emitted almost twice the amount on that one was twice the amount of the typical house.

“Because they're using something expensive like wood and electricity, the fuel bills are very, very high indeed. In terms of carbon emissions, this is a very polluting property.” Shown photos of one property, he said: “Wherever you've got large gaps and cracks within the structure of the building, you're going to get draughts … I would expect that property to be pretty cold to live in.”

He added: “With these EPCs that I've seen today, it's quite clear to me that they shouldn't be rented out until they comply with either the minimum energy efficiency standards or they have a valid exemption on the exemptions register.” None of the 70 properties with F and G ratings had exemptions in place but we understand the Duchy considers that the rules do not apply to properties where the same tenant has lived there for many years and the EPC was done “voluntarily”.

Breaches of the MEES regulations can be penalised with fines of up to £5,000 per property. Our investigation with Channel 4’s Dispatches raises serious questions over the environmental record of the Duchy, which is owned by the heir to the throne.

The Duchy of Cornwall website states that the “Dukes of Cornwall have traditionally managed their own estates … Over the last few years, HRH Prince William, the current Prince of Wales, has worked with his father managing the estate and has now taken over full responsibility for the estate leadership.”

King Charles III, who owned the Duchy until September 2022, is a longstanding champion of environmental issues, while Prince William launched the Earthshot Prize in 2020 "to search for and scale the most innovative solutions to the world ’s greatest environmental challenges". Since the new rules came into force on EPC, Charles and William have between them received £91m in profits from the Duchy.

Claire's home in Devon ( Image: MIKE ALSFORD/MWP)

There are a series of “exemptions” from the MEES regulations available to landlords. Our research shows the Duchy has applied just 10 times for exemptions and the most common reason, used four times, was that the work would cost more than £3,500 to complete.

Campaigner Jonathan Bean, a spokesperson for Fuel Poverty Action, said: "It's a disgrace that a billion pound royal estate appears to be acting like a rogue landlord. And getting away with it. King Charles and Prince William have profited from renting out property that fails to meet even basic standards.

“These low standards cause misery by making heating unaffordable, leading to major health risks from cold and mould. F and G rated homes can cost three times more to heat, which is unaffordable for those on lower incomes.

"Renters are scared to complain about grim conditions, for fear of being evicted or subjected to rent increases. People are forced to suffer in silence. This royal mess demonstrates the fundamental power imbalance at the heart of this country’s broken housing system. Tenants may have rights in law, but in reality they are at the mercy of their landlords.

"We hope this investigation will spark the urgent action needed by Government to force the Duchy and other landlords to actually meet basic standards, and end the misery of people stuck in cold, damp and mouldy rental homes." Definitions of fuel poverty vary. One measure is a household that spends more then 10% of its income on heating - another refers to poorer household with an EPC rating below D.

In 2020, the year the rules on not renting properties below an E came into force, the Government found that 4.4% of rental properties were “non-compliant”. The latest from the Office of National Statistics found that just over 1.5% of rental properties are an F or a G but these include those with an exemption in place. In comparison, 14% of the Duchy rentals we found were rated F or G - nearly ten times higher.

Are you living in an inadequate royal property? Email nick.sommerlad@mirror.co.uk.

The King, the Prince & Their Secret Millions: Dispatches’ on Channel 4, 8.10pm and afterwards on channel4.com.

[left4dead4everr]

Fireplace confessions

Pairings | (Prologue) christopher "chris" hartley x gn!reader

Game | Until Dawn

A/n | dropping a random UD fic! I've been a fan of this game since it came out in 2015, and omg, playing the remaster sparked my love up for it again. Chris has always had a special place in my heart, so I thought, why not drop a special small fic for cochise :))

12:30 am

The anual blackwood getaway, your best friend josh, would invite you and a few other friends down to his family's lodge for break just for some time for you guys to be teens and have fun, get drunk, make mistakes, and just be free from the struggles of your every day lives. Truth be told, you loved it, you loved the scenery, the fresh air, time away from classes and stress, time with your friends, in particular time with your other best friend chris.

You and Chris had been best friends since third grade, well actually You, Chris, and Josh. The three of you bonding when you were moved closer together by the teacher, your bond unbreakable. Ever since then, you always had a small crush on chris, which eventually grew into a massive crush until you knew that you were in love with him. You not wanting to risk your friendship with him never told him keeping your feelings for him strictly platonic. It was hard for you to do so. You loved everything about him, his sense of humor, the way his glasses would sometimes slip down his nose and he had to push them back up, how he was so passionate about wanting to make an app and technology in general, all of it. Everything about him you loved, though you knew he had a crush on your mutual friend Ashley Brown. It killed you knowing you could never have him, I mean, he obviously didn't share the feelings you felt for him for you. So you always encouraged him to get with ashley.

Why? Well, you still wanted him to be happy, and if being with ashley would make him happy, so be it.

Currently, you were about to leave the lodge to take a moment for yourself with some fresh air. The party like atmosphere inside becoming slightly overwhelming. Having a bunch of teens in a lodge who were getting wasted and fucking around wasn't as fun as it seemed, You planned to only be out there for a minute or two, deciding to leave your winter coat inside. You only wore a thin pullover with some jeans and your favorite pair of boots.

Once at the front door, you clicked it open, the cold wind instantly nipping at you as you stepped outside, taking in the night, your breath visible in front of you. The snow fell heavily outside the lodge, covering everything in a thick, white layer. You had only stepped out for a moment, but the door had slammed shut behind you, locking you out. It took a moment to register what just happened, a mix of shock, confusion, and fear taking over you as you quickly turned on your heel and tried to open the door. You let out a groan of frustration as you begin to knock, praying anyone from inside would hear you.

A minute of knocking and pounding on the door passed yet no one from the inside heard you, you sighed knowing the music was probably too loud and they were all too drunk off their asses to me aware of anything like that. You shivered as the cold nipped at your skin becoming slightly painful, trying your best to keep warm you let your body slide down the door, tucking your knees close to your chest as you tried to keep yourself warm.

2:11am

2 hours passed, and the cold seeped through your clothes, chilling you to the bone. You tried to stay warm, but the biting wind made it impossible. Your skin felt numb. Honestly, you weren't sure if you had frostbite, but you felt so confident you did. You were still sitting at the door, your body shivering relentlessly. Pissed, scared, and cold, you couldn't believe no one noticed you were stuck outside. Just when you thought you couldn't take it any longer, you heard footsteps coming closer to the front door. Instantly, you shot up from where you sat, shivering as you hugged yourself. As the door opened, you felt relief wash over you.

Instantly you were met with a familiar face, chris. His face turned into a shocked expression.

"Y/n holy shit there you are!"

Chris exclaimed, his voice filled with concern and eyes widening in shock when he saw your state. Without another word, he wrapped his arms around you, his warmth a stark contrast to the freezing cold. You could smell the alcohol from that night on him, he was a bit tipsy but you could tell the alcohol was nearly wearing off of him.

"Let's get you inside yeah?"

Chris placed his hand on your shoulder as he led you to the fireplace, the crackling flames offering a welcome heat. A relieved sigh escaped your lips as he helped you slowly sit down in front of the big fireplace. Once you were completely sat down, you could feel your body calm and begin to warm up. As you stared at the flames of the big fire, you could hear Chris's footsteps behind you, shuffling around quickly. Before you knew it, he wrapped a blanket around you. You let out a soft sigh of comfort as he sat down next to you. He rubbed your shoulder in a small attempt to help you warm up. As the fire's warmth began to thaw your frozen limbs, you looked at chris, his face lit by the flickering flames, making the small details of his face stand out.

he murmured, guiding you back to the lodge. Instantly, the warmth of the lodge made you feel a little better, yet you were still shivering, your skin still as numb as it was outside. You let out a sigh of relief as he led you to the living space of the cabin.

"Thank you," you whispered, your voice trembling slightly as you let out a deep breath, looking back over at the fire, watching the flames intertwine with eachother before glancing once more over at him. Chris looked over you for a moment, his eyes filled with a mix of worry and something else—something deeper that you couldn't quite place what it was

"I'm so sorry. It took someone that long to open the door.." he said apologetically, his voice soft. "God, I feel so bad.. we all thought you went up to your room, and I went to go check and.. jeez, I'm so sorry y/n"

You reached out, placing your hand over his, "Hey, don't beat yourself over this, okay? Look, im fine now, thanks to you...I guess you'll always be my knight in shining armor, huh cochise?" You said, trying to lighten the mood a little. Seeing him feel so bad about this even though it wasn't his fault made you feel a slight pang of sadness in your heart.

Chris let out a halfhearted chuckle before he took a deep breath. He moved his hand a little closer to yours, a slight tension filling the air. You smiled slightly at him, thankful that he cared about you like this. After a long moment of comfortable silence, the only sound heard was the crackling of the fireplace. Chris let out a sigh before looking over at you

"There's something I need to tell you," he said, his eyes locking onto yours. He sat up straight, fixing his posture. "Y/n I've..I've liked you for a while and I mean a WHILE ever since third grade and I'm so tired of trying to hold back my feelings for you, if this ruins our friendship then I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. I just couldn't keep this to myself anymore.."

As he spoke, your heart skipped a beat, his words sinking in. You could see the sincerity in his eyes and hear it in his voice but for some reason it was hard to believe this was happening. Your best friend who you've been crushing on for so long is alone with you confessing his feeling to you. You let out a nervous chuckle and scan over his face to serch for any sign that he was just pulling your leg.

"You like me? I thought you liked ashley, though I... listen, this isn't funny. Chris, don't joke like that with me, " you said as you pulled your hand from his, your eyebrows furrowing a little as you tried to read him. "You're probably still drunk just..don't say that yeah?" You said as you tucked your knees close to you, your hands wrapped around your knees. Chris's face dropped as he shook his head, he moved closer to you and grabbed your hand making your breath hitch slightly,

"I might have had a few drinks, but I'm not that drunk anymore..listen I know what I'm saying, and I mean it y/n. I love you, I always have. I only said I liked ashley because, well, I just didn't want to confront my feelings for you. I didn't want to ruin our friendship because losing you isn't something I want. I don't know what I'd do with myself if that happened, but I love you y/n, and if you don't feel the same, we can just forget this ever happened" chris confessed, his hand holding onto yours as he waited anxiously for your response. You let out a breath you didn't realize you were holding, your eyes widened slightly, and your heart practically beating out of your chest. It took a moment for his words to fully register, but once they did a smile, painted your lips and gaze softened,

"Holy shit I.. I feel the same way I always have. I was just too scared to say anything.. God, I'm so glad you feel the same, I love you too, chris, so much." You replied, your voice steady and sure. You moved your hand to interlock your fingers with his, scooting a little closer, the blanket slowly slipping off your shoulders.

He smiled, a look of pure happiness spreading across his face, his heart beating faster than it ever had before. He gently squeezed your hand, a moment of comfortable silence filling the air once more. He let out a chuckle before looking at you, admiring the way the glow of the fire made you practically shine,

"This is so cool..can I kiss you? If that's like, I dunno not too much" he asked nervously, sounding like an awkward teenage boy about to have his first kiss. You smiled at him a soft chuckle slipping past your lips as you nodd

"Of course, cochise, now hurry up and do it before it's too late" you said with a playful tone as you placed your other hand next to him, leaning forward to get closer to him. Leaning in, he pressed his lips to yours, sealing the confession with a kiss. The fire crackled beside you. The kiss lasted for a good minute, his hand making his way to cup your face and yours making its way onto his toned arm. The kiss was filled with love and care, it was obvious the two of you were waiting for this moment. You took in every second of it appreciating how surprisingly soft his lips we're.

Soon, the both of you broke away from the kiss, immediately breaking into giggles as you two looked at each other with admiration. It was real, you finally kissed your best friend, you finally were able to confess your feelings for him and have him feel the same. All of it felt like a dream, a dream you hoped you didn't wake up from.

"So.." chris began as he smirked playfully at you, "what does this make us? Because if I'm being honest, I really hope this makes you my partner, " he said in a genuine but playful tone as he grabbed your hand, giving it a slight squeeze'

"Y'know, I would hope after all these years of not telling you I have the worlds massive crush on you and us literally confessing our feelings for each other makes us dating..if that's what you want?" You asked making sure once more that it wasn't just some joke, a slight smile painted your lips as you squeezed his hand back gently

"Oh I want nothing more than that..I love you y/n" Chris said with a smile as he gazed lovingly at you, the soft glow of the fire feeding into the moment.

"I love you too, you loser, always have.."

[rotating-pebbles]

guys do we think we vilify ford too much

Look I KNOW the 2015 stan wars lore. I know the IMMENSE amount of ford hate that existed (and still exits somewhere) when not what he seems first aired. I know. i KNOW.

But with the modern fandom I feel like a lot of people make Ford a lot more crueler in fanart, fan fic, any type of fan work, specifically to try and avoid making him seem like a 100% good character.

I don't know if that makes sense, but i feel like so much of the modern fandom want to avoid the "trap" of worshipping a character that has done morally grey things, in this case Ford.

I'm not quite sure if my point makes sense here, but the over villification I've see in SOME fanworks (no disparaging!! They are still all so good don't stop) and I'm not talking about the evil ford aus, I'm talking about canon adjacent fan works that make ford more mean than he is. To the point where when I rewatch the actual series, I get whiplash from how silly canon ford actually is.

I have no examples and I actually don't think this ramble makes too much sense, but I just think a lot of the fandom over vilified ford to try and avoid making him seem over heroic.

Also I think a lot of people do this in fear of making twink ford. Which. Ok fair.

Fors is a flawed, sometimes morally grey character. He is led by paranoia and insecurity. But he isn't mean or cold or kid hating, (especially post weirdmagedon) he's just a lil autistic

Read the tags for extra stuff

[covid-safer-hotties]

Also preserved on our archive

This is directly tied to covid for a number of reasons including weakened immune systems from frequent infection and vaccine hesitancy strengthened during the pandemic.

By Eilis O'Neill

Whooping cough is spreading nationwide at the highest levels since 2014. There have been more than 16,000 cases this year — more than four times as many compared to the same time last year — and two confirmed deaths. And experts are concerned that the outbreak could worsen in the fall and winter months.

“More children are going back to school now, [which leads to] greater exposure,” said Dr. Eric Chow, the chief of epidemiology and immunization at the Seattle and King County public health agency. “We’re coming up on the kind of winter season when people are spending more time indoors with other people.”

The disease is most dangerous to babies: 1 in 3 who get it require hospitalization.

Whooping cough cases are especially high right now on the West Coast.

King County, where Seattle is, has seen more this year than any year since 2015 — “and the year isn’t even over yet,” Chow said. He said the county is still seeing new cases of whooping cough every week.

Why the big outbreak now? Experts say there are a number of possible explanations for the size of the current outbreak.

Doctors are testing for whooping cough more, so they’re identifying more cases.

It’s possible that the bacterium that causes the disease has mutated.

Also, people got behind on their vaccines during the pandemic, and they haven’t caught up.

“One of the challenges that we have with [the vaccine that protects against whooping cough] is that it is a five-dose series over the course of the first six years of a child’s life, so it does require regular visits to the primary care,” Chow said.

And, Chow said, not everyone can get to the doctor regularly.

But access isn’t the only problem.

“There still is a lot of vaccine hesitancy and anti-vaxers out there that will not vaccinate their kids,” said Dr. Tina Tan, a pediatric infectious disease physician at Northwestern University and the president-elect of the Infectious Diseases Society of America.

For the first couple of weeks, whooping cough looks like a mild cold, but then the coughing fits start.

Babies who get it “are going to be whooping when they cough,” Tan said. “And they may cough, cough, cough, cough, cough, and then look like they're not breathing at all.”

Tan said those pauses in breathing are life-threatening, and a sign that it’s time to go to the hospital.

Whooping cough can also lead to pneumonia and other complications.

But babies can’t get their first dose of the vaccine that protects against whooping cough, also called pertussis, till they’re 2 months old.

“That’s why it’s important for pregnant women to get the pertussis vaccine when they’re pregnant,” Tan said, “so that you can protect your baby for the first two months of life until they’re old enough to be vaccinated themselves.”

Even before the pandemic, only about half of pregnant women got the pertussis vaccine. Now, that number is even lower.

In King County, of the 12 babies who have been seen with whooping cough this year, none of their mothers got the shot during pregnancy.

Vaccine fears, and confidence Dr. Chow, with Public Health-Seattle & King County, said that’s a missed opportunity.

“Sometimes you require a kind of sit-down conversation with the patient who may be a little bit more hesitant or may have encountered misinformation,” he said, “so it just requires a longer time to build trust and rapport.”

Also, not all obstetrician/gynecologists offer the vaccine in their offices, and some people don’t have the bandwidth to go to a pharmacy for a shot.

At a playground in Seattle’s White Center neighborhood, Kay said she has two kids, ages 12 and 4, and she’s always been hesitant about vaccines.

Kay declined to give her last name because she’s concerned about revealing private medical information.

“With COVID, it even made it even more scary, because everybody started coming out saying, ‘The COVID shot’s not actually good for you,’” Kay said. “So I was like, ‘Maybe the other vaccines are bad too.’ And then I went down the rabbit hole of looking up kids who have supposedly gotten vaccinations and passed away.”

Experts say vaccines are very safe and can prevent diseases that once killed or harmed many babies, children, and adults.

Kay eventually got her 4-year-old daughter the shots required for daycare but nothing else.

“It's hard for me to get childcare, and it's just easier for me to say, ‘OK, just give me whatever she needs, just to get her into school,’” Kay said.

So her daughter did get the required whooping cough vaccines — but not any COVID shots, which are not mandated.

Aaron Sittinghorse was at the same playground with his 3-year-old daughter. He said the pandemic had the opposite effect on his thoughts about vaccines.

“It opened up my eyes to how important they are,” he said, “and so now, I'm a believer in vaccines. It's important, even if it's not for yourself, but for everybody around you.”

Sittinghorse said he saw on the news that there’s a whooping-cough outbreak right now, and it worries him a little — but not too much, because he and his family are up to date on their vaccines.

[music-interpretation-review]

Feeling Emotions Song Tournament Round 2

Sometimes a song just hits you right in the heart and might even find you falling to the floor in tears. Or the joy it brings you is so palpable you can't help but dance. Submitters were asked to include propaganda to make their case for why their choice was the most emotional song and now you get to vote!

The Dark I Know Well propaganda by anon:

(cw: child abuse, sexual abuse, incest)

You say all you want is just a kiss goodnight Then you hold me and you whisper “Child, the Lord won’t mind” It’s just you and me. Child, you’re a beauty

In the scene preceding the song, Martha tells her friends that her father beats her with a belt and, at one point, locked her out the house at night. She asks her friends not to tell anyone, for fear that her parents would “throw her out for good,” like what happened to Ilse. The song starts after the conversation between Martha and her friends.

“The Dark I Know Well” is a heartbreaking song about child sexual abuse and incest. In the song, Martha describes the part of her abuse that she cannot tell her friends about—the sexual abuse she has experienced at the hands of her father—, and Ilse eventually joins in and recounts her own experiences with CSA. Ilse and Martha’s feelings of anger and fear really show through vividly in both the lyrics and the actresses’ performances, and it’s absolutely devastating to watch/listen to.

One Step Ahead propaganda by anon:

(cw: Spies Are Forever spoilers)

One step ahead, you played me from the start Well, look at you, without a clue You know you broke my heart

gay love cold war fake death gay divorce. tfw you thought you killed the love of your life but he was actually alive and plotting your downfall the entire time!!! they give me actual physical symptoms. background: Owen "died" on a mission 4 years before the main plot of the show. Curt blamed himself, quit his job, and grew an ugly ass beard - but he's back for one last mission to defeat a villain he later discovers is his "dead" partner.

this song is not only Curt trying to save the world from Owen's scheme but also their official breakup. ugh. the "old buddy/ old pal" the "I'm sorry, my old friend" they sound so fucking bitter and so so sad the way they can't even face the fact they used to be in love. "this is it, we're done/we're through" like HELLOOO. for the past 4 years Owen hasn't been Curt's ex, he's been his dead boyfriend. Curt hasn't been Owen's ex, he's been the man who left him for dead. only when they are literally fighting over the fate of the world do they take the time to officialise their breakup. like do i even NEED to go into "don't deny, I was the better spy/ I liked you better when you were dead" I HATE THEMMM. in Owen's mind he's made such a villain of Curt that he can't accept him as an equal. but Curt can't even think about that bc he just wishes he'd been able to mourn the man he loved, and not the spiteful shell of Owen's former self that's trying to go full fuckin Big Brother on the whole world!!

tl;dr Owen spends this whole song mocking Curt for not being able to stop him (because he is One Step Ahead) while Curt is trying to push aside his grief and anger and confusion so he can stop his ex's evil scheme. my fav doomed yaoi (60s spies from a 2015 musical)

[batsplat]

do u think marc still cares about the feud w valentino? to me, I’ve always thought his continuous denial of it affecting him in any way kind of shows just how much he’s not over it. do u think his desire to win the championship this year is at all colored by the fact that it would mean finally equaling vale’s?

well he released a documentary that shoehorned in a valentino rivalry segment like two years ago, so going to go with 'not over it'

I mean, tbh, I do get the denial that it's still affecting him because there's not really a RIGHT answer to those questions. what exactly are you supposed to say? he is... perhaps a little overly diplomatic in dealing with that line of questioning, but that's just kind of his approach to everything these days. it's only in an extremely controlled environment like a self-produced documentary where he's going to at least somewhat open up. which was his way of Getting Out The Message about what he wants his current line on the conflict to be. obviously he said at the time that he simply couldn't avoid talking about sepang 2015 in that thing but like... of course he could lol. it's a self-produced documentary about his injury comeback. it's not about his entire career, it's not even about his premier class title winning campaigns - given I've heard tell of another rival who secured three runner-up finishes to marc and somehow completely avoided any mention. you can tell that the actual thought process behind the documentary was injury stuff + valentino rivalry and then it just had some extra jorge and dani stuff... tacked on

anyway idk of course he's not over it, I know there's some people that take marc at face value when he says this stuff but like... obviously don't do that?? it's going to be a mix for marc, right - there's hurt, there's regret. all this stuff marc still associates with valentino, this childhood idolisation and memories of a positive relationship with his erstwhile hero. to some extent, this isn't even about valentino per se... valentino is symbolic of lost childhood innocence, nostalgia for a time he can never return to. it comes back to marc's whole injury narrative, right - the fear of being irrevocably broken, of having lost something that will remain lost. there was a time where things were simpler, but we can never return. marc still just has a lot of memories associated with valentino, whether that's supporting him as a child or competing against him in the early years. those tussles in 2013-14 will have been super formative to marc and also a time of uncomplicated joy, when marc won a lot and everybody loved him and things were easier and everything hurt less. that's why when acosta shows up, marc is constantly comparing it to his own experiences fighting the og aliens. it's mourning a lost youth, this bittersweet exercise in nostalgic yearning

but also obviously, there's anger. idk marc isn't ever going to say this so ofc you just sort of have to play it by ear but... come on. marc is an athlete. you use whatever you can to motivate you. think back to misano 2019, where marc made a nuisance of himself all weekend until valentino eventually gave him an excuse to fire himself up... there's plenty of rage and spite in these misano performances over the years, often channelled deliberately towards the cause. it's this amalgamation of negative emotion towards valentino, towards italian fans, towards the press, towards the concept of italy... towards academy riders, obviously. the transitive properties of feuding. it's all well and good for marc to dismiss bez, but would he have reacted in quite the same way with quite the same lasting coldness if it hadn't been a valentino protege to provoke him? and now that he needs to beat pecco, ultimately it is smart and the correct thing to do to draw on any source of motivation possible - including pecco's link to his old enemy. marc feels wronged by valentino, he feels wronged by everyone associated with valentino, deeply so. this is how you get him talking about how he was 'only 22' during sepang 2015 - it's not just an open wound, it's a grievance. he's got many bones to pick. but ultimately his number one goal is winning, so the main practical purpose of these bones is to give himself more motivation. just an extra reason to beat this guy, right. it's also worth pointing out to some extent he has to care because he's still semi-regularly being asked about the feud - the whole thing is very much part of his story in the sport, it's very closely associated with him, so to some extent he just can't avoid it. he's not over it because he's not being allowed to be over it

that being said, do I think marc is motivated by wanting to match/beat valentino's records... not really. I think marc has always been different from valentino in that he doesn't need a story to motivate himself. valentino was always the more restless one, the one who couldn't handle sustained dominance, who needed to find SOMETHING to keep himself interested. marc is far, far better at just winning for winning's sake. I've said it before and I'll say it again, but if you said the words 'four year contract' to valentino, he'd jump out of a window. valentino fled honda when he was winning, marc retreated when he was losing. so like... ultimately marc isn't massively motivated by beating valentino's title count because he doesn't NEED to be. he wants to win! it's that simple! and he's also been on a personal journey that's really only tangentially related to valentino. he's been through hell and back over the last few years, he's gone through some pretty rough patches and experienced a fair bit of hopelessness - and now he has the chance to complete the comeback and win another few titles. that's immensely personally satisfying in a way that goes beyond any grudge. he wants to win because he's always wanted to win, he wants to win because of all it's cost him to get back to winning, simple as

ultimately, I do think he wants to beat valentino's title count - but it's more something that makes it... extra satisfying, rather than something that constitutes a primary source of motivation. sure, there is a bit of spite mixed in there, so I guess in that sense it's a qualified agreement with the ask. to some extent, his desire to be champion once again will be a little bit coloured by knowing he'll be equalling valentino's title count. he's been chasing valentino his entire career, in a way. his emergence and rise as a top level rider was intimately tied to his status as the next valentino; from early on, people were speculating about whether he'd manage to beat valentino's records. motogp riders love the word 'reference' for some reason - and valentino really is the ultimate reference. marc has spent a career orienting himself around that reference in one way or another. so inevitably, all of that baggage and history and spite does colour that desire. to some extent, the same principle as with valentino applies in reverse - I'm wary of ascribing too many of marc's motivations to valentino, even though the main difference here is that marc is still an active rider and has good cause to be using whatever he can as extra fuel. so it does matter, but it's not the main thing that matters. some media outlets and take-havers in the motogp community frame marc's title quest as solely being about beating valentino, which is obviously very silly. the grudge isn't irrelevant, but it's far from being the main factor either. in my opinion, anyway

[fall0utmind]

Hi, I was inspired by your work and wrote something. It could have turned into a whole little story, but I can't write beautifully and a lot, sorry. English is not my native language, so forgive me if there are mistakes here.

--

Marc Marquez does not understand how people can fall in love with new people and see their future in everyone, assuring everyone that this particular person is the love of their life. Marc Marquez has loved only one man for 28 years, as soon as he saw him on a motorcycle, with whom he has no future. With whom he will not be together in the next life. With whom hearing "Mark, you will find your person" is more painful than a cardiac arrest. With whom, having lived less time in love than in hatred, he looks at the elder with one crystal gaze all his life.Only after years did he learn to understand that life only moves forward.The earth did not stop spinning around the sun when he was 22. His family, team and Alex did not turn away from him when 2015 happened.

He learned to forgive people. It is easier to live without hatred of the world, without resentment and without a sense of injustice. Only with love.

Before, his reality was "if you even think about going underground, I'll join you the next day", it was biting his lips until they bled so his eyes wouldn't glass over, it was "I hope he answers me, looks at me, smiles at me, forgives me", it was shaking from the cold in his bones while his little brother tried to warm him up.

But now, it was cleaning the kitchen alone because Alex ate too much after the movie and fell asleep on the couch at their house (and then joining him), it was "Marc, your eyes are so bright", it was looking at yellow and blue without fear, shame or guilt, it was making only one wish for his birthday "if only everyone would be okay" despite how everyone wanted him to be okay, it was the gathering of young racers around him who, in interaction with each other, collect what he always lacked.

His "now" is still setting himself up for a bad ending.

And now - he will not die. Not on the highway, not in a hospital bed, not on the tiles of his bathtub. His family and Alex's dogs are waiting for him in the garage, in the house.

Oh MY GOD!!!!

Everyone come look at this beautiful writing. English isn't your native language?? Insanity, this is so good.

Thank you so much for this. Honestly love it so much.

The way you wrote about marc moving on is gutt-wrenchingly beautiful. And the ending!! The ending, so hopeful.

Ahhhh amazing

You guys are so kind and so talented 🫶🏼🥺