#build career in system programming

[emblogicsblog]

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[reasonsforhope]

"In a historic move Friday [November 8, 2024], Sacramento State announced its new Native American College, a first of its kind in the California State university system. 

The college, a co-curricular institution housed at Sacramento State, will support Native-based education with a focus on leadership and career building. It will offer a diverse range of programs that integrate "tribal values, traditions and community engagement," according to a press release. 

This marks Sacramento State's second ethnic-based institution. The university launched the the nation's first Black Honors college earlier this year. 

The announcement was made at the California State Capitol by President Luke Wood and Dr. Annette Reed, an enrolled member and citizen of the Tolowa Dee-ni' Nation, who will be the first dean of the Native American College. 

Reed said students will have access to faculty mentors, advisors, outreach coordinators and more who have the expertise to work closely with Native American students and can support them holistically. 

She hopes this historic initiative will address low enrollment of Native students pursuing higher education across the state and in the country. Native American students face significant barriers to enrolling in higher education, such as financial constraints, feelings of isolation, historical trauma and lack of culturally relevant curriculum. 

"And so I'm hoping this impacts the students where they go through as a cohort. They can create networks, they can be able to have more of a support system going through and beginning together and hopefully graduating at the end together," Reed said.

Reed recalled taking her first class on Native American studies in 1980. She would later on serve as the director of Native American studies at Sacramento State and chair of the Department of Ethnic Studies. For her, advocating for Native American education was a natural top priority. 

"People always ask me, 'What is Native American studies?' It is history. It is looking at culture. It's looking at teaching sovereignty, federal Indian law. It's teaching social work, art. It's teaching about Native cultural expression, it can be literature," Reed said. 

The Native American College will introduce two new courses, according to Reed, which will be focused on Native American leadership. 

"It means that maybe some of the ones that start in Fall 2025 will end up here at the Capitol. Maybe they'll end up being the future senators or assembly people or the future of people in business. They might be leading our nation as tribal chairs, they might be going into the medical field," Reed said. "But whatever field they go into, leadership is really key." 

Students who want to be in the Native American College can apply after being accepted into the university's general application process. All students will be required to minor in Native American Studies, with an emphasis on Native American leadership."

-via ABC 10, November 8, 2024

[theeartuaist]

When Obsession Has Unlimited Resources

Following up on my post about institutional yanderes (the ones with ACTUAL systemic power like judges, doctors, etc.), I've been thinking about another terrifying category that keeps me up at night: the ELITE yandere. Not just wealthy, but the kind with so much social capital and resources that normal boundaries simply don't apply to them.

Let's break down this nightmare fuel into three distinct but equally terrifying subcategories:

The Ultra-Wealthy Yandere

This isn't just "rich person obsessed with you" – I'm talking about the kind of wealth that makes problems disappear. Billionaire-level resources where money isn't just power, it's practically its own legal system.

The ultra-wealthy yandere doesn't need to stalk you themselves – they have a security team for "your protection." They don't need to threaten your landlord – they just buy your entire apartment building. They don't need to sabotage your job – they acquire the company and have you transferred to the division that reports directly to them.

It's horrific hiw easy it is for them. Your boyfriend suddenly gets a dream job offer overseas? Your best friend wins an "all-expenses-paid vacation" that keeps getting extended? Your family's medical debt mysteriously disappears right before they receive a "generous offer" on their house that would relocate them hours away? That's not coincidence – that's calculated elimination of your support system through "generosity."

"I noticed you were struggling to make rent, so I took care of it. No need to thank me. By the way, I bought out your lease. You can stay here for free... or move into my guest house. Your choice, of course."

Every kind gesture has invisible strings. Every "coincidence" is purchased. And you can never PROVE anything because who would believe that a billionaire with everything would go to such lengths for someone like you? The power imbalance is so vast that even your valid concerns sound like delusions of grandeur.

The Celebrity Yandere

This is the yandere with not just wealth, but a public platform and an army of devoted fans. The person whose obsession with you is disguised as "inspiration" or "devotion to their muse."

The celebrity yandere weaponizes their fandom. That cryptic song lyric about someone with your exact birthdate? The character in their movie who shares your unique mannerism? Their fans will dissect every detail, hunting down the "inspiration" until your privacy is shredded by people who think they're participating in a romantic scavenger hunt.

They don't need to contact you directly – they can send messages through their work that only you would understand. They don't need to threaten you – they just need to express "disappointment" and watch as their fans become an unwitting harassment campaign.

"I can't believe you're dating someone else when [Celebrity] OBVIOUSLY wrote their entire album about you! How could you be so ungrateful?"

The most terrifying part is that you become part of their narrative whether you consent or not. Your identity gets absorbed into their public persona. Your private moments become content, your resistance becomes drama, and if you try to speak out? Their PR team ensures your story is buried beneath headlines about your "obsession" with them.

The Old Money/Political Dynasty Yandere

This isn't about new wealth or public fame – this is generational power. The yandere whose family name opens doors, whose connections run through every elite institution, whose influence is woven into the very fabric of society.

The old money yandere doesn't need flashy displays of power. They operate through whispers at country clubs, through college friends who now run institutions, through family connections that go back centuries. Your graduate school application gets rejected from everywhere except the program where they happen to be studying. Your promising career path suddenly hits invisible barriers – except in their family's field. Opportunities mysteriously vanish and reappear in ways that funnel you directly into their orbit.

"What a pleasant surprise running into you here. Did you know my family has been members of this club for generations? Let me introduce you to everyone. They're very interested in meeting you."

Their obsession is cloaked in tradition and propriety. Their stalking looks like proper courtship. Their family doesn't threaten you – they simply make it clear that your future success in any elite space depends on your relationship with their heir. And if you try to break away? The subtle blacklisting begins – nothing provable, just doors quietly closing.

What makes ALL these elite yanderes so dreadful is that their obsession is disguised as opportunity, as generosity, as privilege.

"Do you know how many people would KILL to be in your position?" "You should be grateful they even noticed you." "How could someone like THEM possibly be obsessed with someone like YOU?"

The gaslighting isn't just from them – it's from an entire society that views their attention as an honor rather than a prison. A society that sees their resources as inherently legitimising their behavior.

And when the alternative is complete financial ruin, or public humiliation, or professional blacklisting... the gilded cage starts looking like safety. Your resistance is worn by the sheer exhaustion of fighting against resources that seem infinite and you become complicit in your own captivity.

Capitalism is the real enabler here.

[drghostwrite]

Saints and Sinners

Pairing: Alex Vause x reader

Summary: it’s always the things that you can’t have that make you want them even more. Detective reader meets a locked up Alex willing to trade info for freedom but what happens when they fall for each and the thing separating them coumd destroy your career.

Warnings: smut, minors DNI

******************************************************** A typical day at the office, but that was never the case for you, you were a detective so honestly there was no ‘typical’ day. Most days were murder and mayhem in all forms, today was no different, you found yourself walking through a women’s prison to talk to an informant.

You took off your guns and slowly walked down the hallways escorted by a guard, once you got to the interview room you took a breath before stepping in, you took slow strides towards the table and sat on the corner. You took in the woman before you slightly taller than you, similar build just a little less muscular, dark raven hair and striking green eyes, her black glasses and thin eyebrows, no make up other than what appeared to be eyeliner.

“Well this is different.” The raven haired inmate spoke.

“mm.. and how’s that?” You asked.

“Usually they send the tough guys.” She started almost mocking you.

“I’m pretty tough…”

“I’m sure you are, and you’re pretty.” She smiled and you chuckled back.

“Package deal.”

“And I’m sure that package deal got you enough catcalling when you walked through those gates.” She pointed out.

“Fair enough… so I heard you have something that might help my case?”

“possibly…” she said smirking at you and sitting very composed in her chair.

“Well I brought a deal, in exchange for trading us with intel we release you early on parole…”

“There’s always a catch so what is it?” She asked eyes narrowing.

“You would be my informant.”

“Give you intel in exchange for my freedom., an eye for an eye”

“sounds right up your alley.”

“can’t say your wrong, when do I start?”

“today… we leave now.” You said and a few short moments later you were escorting her outside where your partner and another car of two officers was parked.

“How much did you have to promise her to get her to come along?” One male officer joked.

“a night in her bed is all i would need…” the other said.

“Behave boys…” your partner finally spoke up towering over the other two men.

“Come on man, can’t say you haven’t thought of it.”

“I have enough respect not to.”

“Besides boys you know I would never swing that way.” You replied, and they both made faces annoyed and pouting.

You let her in the back and shortly after found yourself back at the station, “now that you have your informant you need to protect her.”

“thinking witness protection?

“well yea and no, technically we can’t put her in the program because they would wipe her clean no traces BUT if we could get round the clock supervision?” He said looking at you.

“oh you’re not suggesting?…”

“You wanted her as your informant.”

“But… to leave my house?”

“well..”

“Okay what if I housed her AT my house, it’s big and has a good security system, almost to good.”

“Y/N I’ve seen your house, it’s a fortress and its up to you, but you need to keep her close.”

“Fine, get her prepped and I guess she’s coming home with me.” You agreed and stepped out to gather some things.

A few weeks later and you were still adjusting to your new living arrangements, she was in the guest quarters while you were on your side of the house, she occasionally used your main bathroom but you mostly just checked in with each other during meals. You were becoming very close, you were earning each others trust and becoming friends.

You observed Alex more than you would’ve liked to admit, there was some chemistry between the two of you when working together. You loved how you always caught her lounging on your couch reading a book, occasionally coming home to find her sprawled her book having fallen to the ground as she was asleep, so you would grab a blanket and gently cover her. She was smart, smarter than most people let alone criminals, it attracted you to her and her sense of caring and how charming she could be, it always made you wonder if it was all a show. Little did you know that she was also attracted to you, your smarts and abilities, you could charm you way into and out of anything, you were caring and passionate and you made her wish she had never been a criminal. She wanted you more than anything and it felt like you were worlds away.

That is until one night…

“Ugh…” you left out an exhausted groan, lifting the glasses you wore and rubbing your hands down you face, you felt two hands come to your shoulder.

“Stressed?” A sultry voice asked.

“Something like that.” You said in a groan.

“What’s going on?” She asked snaking around the counter to dig through the fridge for the bag of grapes that you kept stocked.

“This case, the entire thing just doesn’t make sense, and I’m tired, and frustrated, and I can’t think straight.”

“sounds like someone needs to get laid…”

“Shut up Alex.” You grumbled as she snickered.

“just saying, tends to be a good stress reliever,” she chuckled again at your face that was turning red.

“Maybe just a shower…” you said standing from your chair and closing your laptop that sat on the island.

“Can I join?” She prodded, popping a grape into her mouth.

“Cute, Vause…” you said as you walked away, she watched the sway of your hips, the way your ass bounced in the pajama pants you wore, how you reached up running your fingers through your messy bun, the tight long sleeve your wore showing the muscles in your arms.

“Dammit, Avery…” she said under her breath watching you walk away, as she devised a plan to help you out. She waited until she heard the shower turn on and slowly made her way to the bathroom, seeing that the door had been left open, the only thing keeping you from her was the curtain.

carefully she started stripping away pieces on clothing, standing outside the shower naked, she slowly moved the curtain and stepped in behind you, the scent of your body wash filling her nose and she inhaled, she reached out and ran a hand over your back feeling you tense.

“Alex?” You whispered.

“Y/N,” she whispered in your ear, starting to kiss down the back of your neck, gently moving your hair aside. She slowly wrapped her hands around you turning you to face her. She looked into your eyes and then your lips before leaning forward and pulling you into a lip locking kiss, you felt her tongue and granted her access and she ghosted over your bottom lip.

“Alex…” you whispered pulling apart for air.

“you tell me if you want me to stop…” she said continuing down your neck. Her hand slid onto the small of your back pulling your bodies closer till they were flush against each other. Her lips found your sweet spot pulling a small moan from your lips before she moved down to your chest, pulling a taut nipple between her teeth before sucking on it.

“Baby I need words…” she said in a low sultry tone.

“Shit, Alex I could lose my job…”

“do you want me to stop?” She said her mouth still working on your breasts as her hand snaked down your back running along your butt that she squeezed and then onto your thigh, lifting your leg around her so she could ghost her fingertips over the smooth skin.

“Hell no…” you said a hand coming up to her hair, she lifted her head to pull you into another kiss, but this time you took control, pushing her away and turning the shower off.

“Y/n?” She asked slightly confused but you pulled her down into a breathtaking kiss, “we were getting to the good part.” She teased.

“Almost…” you said pushing her out of the shower, you didn’t bother with towels as you kept your lips locked guiding her towards your bedroom, pushing her inside and slamming the door closed with her body. You pulled her into a bruising kiss, her hands roaming your body as you pulled her closer one hand coming up to run through her hair. She reached down grabbing the back of your thighs and lifted you enough to carry you over and lay you on the bed.

“playing it rough?” You teased, moving back as she crawled towards you.

“who knew the prim and proper detective was such a freak in bed.” She said, bending down to open your legs, she placed small bites along the inside of your thighs. Her hands massaged your thighs before reaching up to play with your boobs, she placed kisses up your thigh teasing you. You looked down making eye contact and watching her as she mischievously grinned, you felt her drag her tongue up the inside of your thigh, you rolled your eyes as her.

Just for that she bent down her breath hot on your pussy, she pulled her tongue through your folds tasting you for the first time before pulling your clit harshly into her mouth, the pleasure jolted your hips against her and she reached a hand down placing it on your lower stomach keeping your hips still. She buried herself in you, her tongue was magic as she explored all of you. You started breathing more heavily, your moans more frequent as your hips tried to buck against her, one hand reached down and brushed Raven hair out of her face only to tangle in it when she looked up through hooded eyes, the other hand ran down her arm that was currently playing with hardened nipples.

“God you feel so good…” you whined.

“And you taste amazing…” she moaned out, pulling your clit in one last time letting out a low moan that vibrated through your core. She helped you ride out your orgasm as you laid there bodies still tangled together. You chuckled trying to steady your breathing as she grinned, wiping her arm in her elbow, your orgasm covering her mouth.

She slowly moved taking in your gorgeous body as it glistened with sweat and water from the shower that had been abandoned. She moved up as if she were going to leave but instead you reached out grabbing her and sitting up, you pulled her close against you, your lips finding each other.

“Y/N?” She sat up in front of you hands on either side of your head playing with your hair.

“I wanna taste you…” you whispered in her ear, running your tongue over the shell of her ear.

“are you sure?”

“just shut up.” You said heated kisses on her lips, you pushed her back until she was laying out in front of you. You placed kisses all along he body some would be seen tomorrow, she watched at first and then tried to reach you, to touch you but instead you grabbed her wrists and held them both above her head.

“Look but don’t touch…” you said bending down to kiss her again. You saw her eyes tracking you so you looked up as you moved down her body, you let your tongue pull a long swipe up between her breasts before pulling a nipple into your mouth, letting your tongue swirl. She bit her lip with a small smirk watching you.

she watched you move to her stomach where you placed more kisses, and licked again making her twitch beneath you. You moved down to right above her mound and placed kisses, moving into place you hovered over her clit, snaking an arm under her leg you pulled well manicured nails over the sensitive skin before lifting it over your shoulder. The smooth milky skin a contrast to your tan, she moved her foot, brushing it over your back.

“you’re teasing…” she whined pretending to be annoyed.

“well you know what they say about payback… she’s a bitch.” You said licking through her folds but stopping before you reached her clit. She went to reach her hands down to tangle in your hair and you pulled away. She moved them back in a defensive motion slightly annoyed that she couldn’t touch you like she wanted to.

“behave…” you said and she locked eyes with you, this time though you latched onto her clit, pulling a gasp from her lips that quickly turned into a moan.

“Mm… you do taste amazing.” You moaned into her sending shockwave to her core, you bent to let your tongue explore her and as you did, your nose pressed deliciously into her clit, her hips jolted against you pushing you closer. You reached up and placed some pressure right above her hips, hitting the spot, your other hands snaked up to grab her nipple but instead met her hand as she let go, she intertwined your fingers as her other hand gripped at your sheets.

you knew she was close as she moaned and her back arched off the bed, you squeezed her hand and applied a little pressure with the one on her lower stomach, going up and working your tongue around her clit, hearing her orgasm come over her, her loud moans turning into soft little pants.

“Shit Y/N…” she laughed.

“better than you thought?” You teased.

“it’s always better when it’s some thing you can’t have.”

“you know we can’t tell anyone, not yet at least…”

“keeping secrets is my specialty.” She said pulling you in for a kiss. You laid in you bed next to her before she wrapped an arm around you pulling you to lay on her chest.

“Do you think we could ever have a future?” She started.

“like together?” you asked.

“Like together, like a life?”

“I’m not sure, I mean technically once your a free woman, you can do whatever you want.”

“but as your informant…”

“It’s dangerous…”

“A risk is be willing to take.” She said and you sat looking into her eyes trying to figure out if she was serious before laying back down and wrapping an arm around her waist. Silence fell as you started to doze off exhausted from your work week, she slowly laughed, that signature laugh filling the room.

“what’s so funny?” You asked sleepily against her.

“I fell for a detective, what I thought was the enemy, I fell in love with you.”

“funny how that works…” you trailed, “love you to…” you sleepily ran a hand over her side to let her know you meant it before falling back asleep.

~it’s funny how bad you want something you can’t have, until you have it~

[sepublic]

So in Willow’s debut, it’s established that Abominations is considered as having better career opportunities than Plants. And in hindsight, it makes sense now; Abominations are valued by the coven regime in the way Blight Industries does them, as industrial Abomatons that can be controlled, as a means of military power and not magitech medicine as Alador shows in the epilogue. Belos buys them from Odalia, he practically assimilates Blight Industries.

This is because Abomatons don’t think for themselves, they’re servants that can replace covenscouts in areas that would challenge morality, and they lack the sapience to be targeted. They’re beings Belos can control without having to learn more of the magic he despises to do so; All of this is in contrast to how Darius or Amity use Abominations as a reflection of their own skill, the individual.

We see how the Abomatons aid the coven regime, and esp see through the Day of Unity; The Abomatons can be programmed, and do nothing without orders; They’re not going to become witches and demons in their own right, they’ll maintain those walls and then do so for the end of time.

They don’t need to be targeted for genocide as victims of the draining spell who would be incapacitated, so they can do their job while that happens. They keep witches corralled because the closer to the ritual, the faster the covenbound die. Of course, those who haven’t collapsed might try and stop the spell by removing the coven heads, which would place them within weakening proximity anyhow…

But that paranoia over covenbound who aren’t yet unconscious is justified; The Abomatons’ own creator rendered their role in the Day of Unity and the regime as a whole obsolete, because he had the strength away from the ritual to help the kids reach the skull, which allowed King to free the Collector and undo everything.

Plus, Belos is loathe to the isles; He depletes its natural resources, he wants all life to die and devastating the ecosystem is another way to do so. Hunter suggests growing Palistrom wood and he’s furious at the idea. So of course Plant magic is devalued, because it’s focused on life, on sustainability, with keeping others alive.

It’s the exact opposite of the cold industrialism that will make the Day of Unity happen and leave the land barren afterwards because the Abomatons themselves are barren in that sense, lacking magic and with little to contribute to the ecosystem, if anything. Plant magic is half of nature, the other being Beastkeeping, I wonder if that is also devalued by the regime?

Makes sense the Demon Hunters have to resort to menial city jobs instead of their traditional livelihood, forced to assimilate into an urban society if their environment has been depleted by colonialism. Adds to Darius and Eberwolf being rebels. And with Terra, it shows how much she’s willing to throw her fellow witches under the bus for utopia.

I remember speculating it since I was a Teenage Abomination; Abominations really is STEM, down to being used for military applications. Given TOH’s critique of the American education system, you can see how this metaphor extends when the work of creating a sustainable society and environment is secondary to destroying enemies and establishing supremacy and capital (As established with CEO Odalia’s motives).

Because it’s fun and easy to destroy, rather than do the banal yet meaningful work of actually building and healing and feeding people, thinking of how society can be sustainable. It’s easy to talk about how you can destroy witches zombies in an apocalypse, instead of how to keep a community of survivors alive; All that talk about how dudes bored with their lives dream about being an action hero at the expense of society’s collapse, without understanding what the world really needs is builders and not destroyers, and that they’d be nothing without the people who do this ‘boring’ work, is so very Belos.

[cleapallea]

master list + More

𐙚 𝗘𝗠𝗣𝗧𝗬 𝗣𝗟𝗔𝗡𝗘𝗧𝗦𐙚

& how you can make income! 🤑

Is empty house means empty wallet?

There are 12 sectors (zodiac sign + house) in astrology that reflect different aspects of your life. At this point, if you have planets in 12 houses, a planet being in that house as well as the rulers means you should have more focus in that area. For example, too many planets (2) in a tenth house with Venus aspects or rulers (Taurus and Libra) signifies that your career might be related to Venus qualities such as modeling, rebranding, or makeup (products, tutorials, etc.). Hence, I know some of you might ask: So what to do if none?

Empty Planet in 1st house

Aries: self image, rebranding and investing

Empty Planet in 2nd house

Taurus: depends on your own efforts. Kinda Similiar to 1st.

Empty Planet in 3rd House

Gemini: Person's activity, and investment (education, training and self development -professional)

Example: Graphic Designer, Artworks related, Freelance writer and etc

Empty Planet in 4th house

Cancer: Anything related to fostering homes, and building connections (social network)

Example: adopting a dog (female), and let them grow after that you can sell her puppies. Or you can build a pets/ poultry suppliers.

Empty Planet in 5th house

Leo: Anything related to pleasure, wholesome stuff, makes you happy and alive, self-expression, recreation, and innovation.

Example: Build a program (school, playground, or be a Yaya for a day) and alike

Empty Planet in 6th house

Virgo: anything related to health, wellness, and daily routines

Example: Be secretary, write a blog about health and wellness, Be a Yoga instructor, or Drugs Cashier in some malls, teacher and more.

Empty Planet in 7th house

Libra: anything related to partnership, business and interest in society as a whole.

Example: Be an event planner, teacher, or social media influencer starts to sell your self in social media.

Empty Planet in 8th house

Scorpio: money houses, long term success or growth career, real state investments and financial portfolios

Example: rentals of your personal collection like shoes, etc.

Empty Planet in 9th house

Sagittarius: Travel, higher learning, personal philosophy, exploration and intellect

Example: You may consider writing a story or list of quotes on a known website and look for a small publisher until you get recognized. You can also Teach foreign ppl in diff countries to use other languages.

Empty Planet in 10th house

Capricorn: public image, career aspiration and achievement, and more on ppl oriented.

Example: vlogger, streamer, content creator, YouTuber and alike

Empty Planet in 11th house

Aquarius: humanitarian and personal networks. Anything that may show your passion and interest in specific content.

Example: musician, or be friends with famous people (they can help you a lot), then let them see your talents. I've known a lot of Aquarius placements tend to be very talented. You just have to precise and be stick with good purpose cause double karma occurs if you're not.

Empty Planet in 12th house

Pisces: Mysterious side of humanity, mind, and life

Example: be a tarot reader, practice gambling, or any creative outlets.

✎ There are no such things as empty planets. The empty planets are ruled by the "lord" or "zodiac signs" inside them. Although I don't really believe it's not your main focus but more in IT'S YOUR HIDDEN GOAL AND SUCCESS, I've heard a lot of women who have their second house empty, but years later become rich due to partnerships, investments in education, and such. We have this called "transitting of each sign."

✎ take note that this is not a dynamic and astrology is about multifaceted interpretation. The question of where and what you can do to make money can vary depending on the whole system of your chart (aside from your energy). For me, I need to see the whole birth chart before I give the exact meaning of it. Every chart is different, so I can't provide full, detailed information about it.

✎You have to look for your MC (signs), Jupiter house +signs (power), Saturn (warnings/challenges occur) and Moon placed (for reminder why you started, why you need to work something like that) if you don't like your moon, then look for your south code. Or if you dont know how to start, look for the (Pluto). Find inspiration in everything :) God bless!

Plagiarism is A crime.

[elladreams]

The Perfect Setup (Zandvoort) // LN4

summary: Zandvoort '24. A young engineering prodigy, recruited by McLaren to solve complex F1 challenges, grapples with media scrutiny and an undeniable chemistry with driver Lando Norris. As tensions rise during a crucial race, they must balance professional duty with their growing personal connection.

warnings: she/her reader, smut (18+), unprotected (shower 😳) sex, size kink.

words: 6.9K

The roar of engines filled the air, a symphony of power and precision that reverberated through the paddock. The smell of burning rubber and gasoline mixed with the salty breeze from the nearby coast, creating an intoxicating atmosphere that signaled another race was about to begin. The McLaren garage was a hive of activity—mechanics making last-minute adjustments, engineers poring over data, and drivers mentally preparing for the challenge ahead. Amidst the controlled chaos, you stood, a pillar of calm in a world of speed.

You have always stood out, a prodigy in a field where experience often outweighed talent. But here you were, at the heart of one of the most prestigious teams in Formula 1, your hands and mind guiding the finely-tuned machinery that could make or break a race. At just twenty-two, you were already a respected figure in the paddock, known for your brilliance in engineering and your unyielding dedication to the sport.

Your family had sacrificed so much to help you reach your potential. You were always miles ahead of the other kids. While they were playing with dolls or video games, you were more interested in how those things worked. At six years old, you were already taking apart remote control cars, not to play with them, but to understand the intricate systems that made them move. By the time you were ten, you were building small engines from scratch, fascinated by the power and precision of mechanical systems.

Your parents quickly realized they had a prodigy on their hands. They encouraged your curiosity, enrolling you in expensive science and engineering programs meant for kids much older than you. You thrived in these environments, always eager to learn more, to push the boundaries of what you could create. By the time you were a teenager, you had already won several national engineering competitions, earning a reputation as a young genius in the world of mechanics.

When you first discovered Formula 1, everything changed. The speed, the technology, the sheer complexity of the cars—it captivated you like nothing else. You devoured everything you could find about F1 engineering, learning about aerodynamics, power units, and the delicate balance between speed and control. While other teenage girls were dreaming of prom dresses and much older boyfriends , you were dreaming of being in the garage, fine-tuning the machines that drove the world of motorsport.

Your parents knew that pursuing a career in F1 was a long shot, especially for a young woman, but they supported you every step of the way. They worked multiple jobs and sacrificed their own dreams so that you could chase yours.

Thankfully, your talent didn’t go unnoticed. By the time you were 16, you had caught the attention of several top engineers in the F1 world, earning an internship with Mercedes. You quickly made a name for yourself as a technical genius, capable of understanding and improving complex systems that seasoned engineers struggled with. The paddock buzzed with stories of the young girl who was instrumental in Mercedes' dominance.

With your newfound fame came an onslaught of media attention. Reporters from major news outlets were relentless, hounding you for interviews and prying into every aspect of your life. They asked invasive questions about your personal relationships, sought your opinions on the sport's latest controversies, and even pressed you to address misogynistic rumors linking you romantically with certain drivers. The spotlight, once a place of professional pride, had become a battlefield where your every word was scrutinized, and your achievements were often overshadowed by baseless gossip.

Zak Brown fought tooth and nail to bring you to McLaren, recognizing that you were the missing piece they needed to conquer the new regulations. When it became clear that the team was struggling to master the latest specifications, he knew they needed someone with your unique blend of technical expertise and innovative thinking. Zak saw in you a mind that could bridge the gap between theory and practice, someone who could not only understand the intricacies of the new rules but also translate them into real-world performance on the track.

But today, on the day of Max Verstappen's home race, there was an unmistakable charge in the air—tensions were higher, the stakes more personal. It wasn’t just another race; it was a proving ground, not only for the car but for you, the team, and especially for the driver who had become both your greatest challenge and your fiercest ally: Lando Norris.

Lando, the young, fiercely talented star of McLaren, had a natural charm that made him a media darling, but it was his relentless drive to win that truly defined him. From the moment you joined the team, your relationship with Lando had been anything but smooth. Your strong wills collided over every detail, every decision. He saw you as a nuisance, someone who constantly questioned his instincts and pushed him beyond his comfort zone. To you, Lando was stubborn, even arrogant at times—a driver who needed to understand that perfection on the track wasn't just about raw talent but about achieving the perfect synergy between man and machine. And today, that’s exactly what you were trying to achieve.

Standing in the garage, you reviewed the data on your tablet for what felt like the hundredth time. You had pulled an all-nighter, fine-tuning an experimental setup that you believed could give Lando the edge he needed on this notoriously challenging circuit. But convincing him to trust your untested approach was another matter.

Lando stormed into the garage, the top part of his race suit hanging low on his hips revealing his fire proofs, his expression a mix of frustration and determination. “You’ve got to be kidding me,” he said, glancing at the setup specs displayed on the screen. “This is what you’ve been working on all night?”

“Yes,” you replied, meeting his gaze without flinching. “This setup could give you the downforce you need through the corners without sacrificing speed on the straights. I’ve run the simulations a dozen times—it works.”

“Simulations?” Lando scoffed, running a hand through his curls in agitation. “Simulations aren’t the same as the real thing. We can’t afford to take risks like this, not here, not today.”

“This isn’t a risk, Lando,” you shot back, your voice steady despite the tension. “This is a calculated decision based on hard data. I wouldn’t be recommending it if I didn’t believe it would make a difference.”

He crossed his arms, his jaw set in that stubborn way you’d come to recognize all too well. “You’re asking me to trust a setup we’ve never used in a race, in front of Max’s home crowd, no less. What if it doesn’t work? What if it costs me the race?”

“And what if it wins you the race?” you countered, stepping closer to him. “You know as well as I do that playing it safe isn’t going to cut it against Verstappen on his home turf. We need every advantage we can get, and this setup is that advantage.”

Lando stared at you, his eyes searching yours for any sign of doubt. But you didn’t waver. You believed in this setup, and more importantly, you believed in him.

Finally, he relented, nodding slowly. "Fine. But if this doesn’t work, I swear I will never let you live it down."

“It will” you interrupted, a small tired smile tugging at the corner of your lips. “I’ll be right there with you, making sure it does.”

A ghost of a smirk played on his face, his eyes betraying the glimmer of a sparkle. For a moment, the garage was silent, the two of you standing closer than you realized, caught in the intensity of the moment. The intoxicating blend of his dark, amber-scented perfume mingled with the unmistakable and familiar scent of the paddock, created a heady aroma that threatened to cloud your senses entirely.

Your breath hitched as his gaze dropped to your lips, lingering there for a fraction of a second before flicking back up to your eyes. You could feel your cheeks burning as his gaze caressed you.

Lando cleared his throat, breaking the spell and stepping back.

"Well, let's get this done." he said, his usual light tone returning as he ran a hand through his hair again. "Wouldn't want to keep the adoring crowd waiting." He winked.

You rolled your eyes and smiled, thankful for the change in energy.

You both turned back to the screen to finalize the setup adjustments. As you worked side by side, the air between you felt different—not just charged with the usual tension, but with a deeper, more intimate connection. It was almost as if a switch had been flipped, and you had moved from being teammates to something more.

The race was minutes away, but for the first time, you felt like you were truly part of a team—Lando’s team. And that, more than anything, was what mattered. The moments before the race were a blur of final checks and hurried conversations. You stood by Lando’s car, your heart pounding with adrenaline, not just from the intensity of the race but from something deeper—something you were trying desperately not to acknowledge. As the sun dipped lower in the sky, casting a golden hue over the Zandvoort Circuit, you caught Lando’s eye. He was already in his race suit, helmet in hand, but there was a softness in his gaze, a silent acknowledgment of the connection you’d both been dancing around for months.

The starting grid was tense with anticipation. Lando had secured pole position in a spectacular qualifying session, and the team was buzzing with excitement. But everyone knew this race wouldn’t be easy—not with Verstappen starting right behind him, eager to impress his home crowd.

The lights went out, and the roar of the engines filled the air as the cars launched off the line. Lando got a good start, but so did Verstappen. As they barreled into the first corner, Verstappen made a daring move, diving down the inside and taking the lead. The crowd erupted in cheers, the sea of orange on its feet as their hometown hero took charge.

“Hold steady,” you whispered under your breath, your eyes glued to the screen. Lando had lost the lead, but the race was far from over.

The next few laps were a blur of precision and strategy. Lando stayed close to Verstappen, not letting him get away, but it was clear that the McLaren’s setup was allowing him to conserve his tires while maintaining pace. The tension was palpable, every corner, every straight a testament to the fine-tuning you and the team had worked so hard to perfect.

As the race approached its midpoint, an opportunity presented itself. Verstappen, pushing hard to maintain his lead, began to show signs of tire degradation. You watched the data closely, your fingers gripping the edge of the console.

“This is it, Lando,” you said over the radio, your voice steady but laced with anticipation. “His tires are gone. You’ve got this.”

Lando didn’t respond, but you knew he’d heard you. His driving became more aggressive, more precise, as he closed the gap to Verstappen. And then, on lap 47, the moment you’d been waiting for arrived. Lando set himself up perfectly coming out of Turn 9, using the slipstream to his advantage. As they approached the hairpin, he made his move, diving down the inside with the confidence of a driver who knew his car—and his own abilities—were more than a match for the challenge.

He retook the lead, and this time, he wasn’t about to let it go.

“Nicely done, Lando!” you cheered into the radio, unable to keep the excitement out of your voice. The entire team erupted in applause, but your focus remained on the car, on the driver who had just reminded everyone why he was one of the best.

The final laps were a masterclass in control. Lando maintained his lead, keeping Max at bay and managing his tires to perfection, while also building a substantial gap. As he crossed the finish line, taking the checkered flag, the McLaren garage exploded in celebration.

“You did it, Lando! You won!” The words burst out of you, the relief and joy evident in every syllable.

Lando’s voice crackled over the radio, filled with the same emotion. “We did it. The car came alive.” A flush of pride warmed your cheeks. This was your win, too—your idea, your hard work, your dedication to perfection.

As Lando pulled into the pit lane, the world seemed to slow down. He stepped out of the car, removing his helmet to reveal a smile that lit up his entire face. You had joined the team to celebrate alongside Lando. Before you knew it, he was walking toward you, his eyes locked onto yours. The team was cheering, clapping him on the back, but Lando didn’t stop until he was right in front of you. He reached out, taking your hand in his, the contact sending a jolt through you.

“Thank you.” He said simply, the words full of meaning.

Your smile widened as you squeezed his hand, the rush of adrenaline and pride filling you with a new kind of certainty. In this moment, the only thing that mattered was him, and you. You squeezed his hand, your heart racing not from the adrenaline of the race, but from the intensity of the moment between you. “Thank you for trusting me, Lando.”

There was a brief silence, the noise of the celebration fading into the background as the world narrowed to just the two of you. Then, with a quick glance around as if to check that no one was watching too closely, Lando leaned in, pressing a soft kiss to your cheek, his breath warm against your skin.

“Couldn’t have done it without you,” he repeated, a whisper that sent your heart into overdrive.

You smiled, feeling the warmth spread through you. “And we’ll do it again.”

The race had been a victory, but this moment—standing with Lando, the connection between you undeniable—felt like something even more precious. It was the start of something new, something that went beyond the garage and the racetrack. 

—-

The podium celebration had been nothing short of electrifying. The roar of the crowd, the spray of champagne, and the sight of Lando beaming as he hoisted the trophy high above his head was a moment you knew you would never forget. As the McLaren team gathered to celebrate, you found yourself on the podium alongside Lando, representing the team that had worked tirelessly to secure this victory. It was a whirlwind of emotions—pride and undeniable joy.

But as you made your way back to the garage drenched in Ferrari champagne, the adrenaline of the win still pulsing through your veins, you rounded a corner and nearly collided with Chiara, McLaren’s senior PR manager. Her usually composed expression was tense, and you could tell immediately that she had something on her mind.

“Great job out there,” Chiara started, her voice measured but tinged with concern. “The team couldn’t be happier, but we need to talk.” Your stomach sank as a sense of foreboding crept over you. Chiara had been your main point of contact for media communication since joining the team, and you knew that if she was this worried, it must be something serious. You felt a knot form in your stomach. The way she was looking at you told you that this wasn’t just about the race. “What’s on your mind, Chiara?”

She glanced around, making sure no one else was within earshot, then pulled you aside into a quieter corner of the garage. “Look, I don’t want to rain on your parade, but we need to be careful about how things appear. The media and fans are already buzzing about you and Lando, especially after that little moment after the finish.”

Your mind flashed back to the celebration, to the kiss on the cheek Lando had given you, the way his hand had lingered on yours just a bit longer than necessary. It had felt private, special, but of course, nothing was truly private in the world of Formula 1, especially not when the cameras were always rolling.

“You know how it is,” Chiara continued, her tone softening slightly. “Fans are passionate, and the media loves a good story. They’ll spin anything to make headlines. I’m not saying you can’t have…whatever it is you have with Lando, but we need to manage the optics. The last thing we want is for this to distract from the team’s success.”

You nodded, understanding her concerns. The last thing you wanted was to give the press ammunition to turn your hard-earned victory into tabloid fodder. But the idea of keeping your newfound feelings for Lando hidden, of pretending there was nothing between you, felt like a bitter pill to swallow.

“I get it, Chiara,” you said finally, meeting her gaze with determination. “I’m not going to let them turn this into a scandal. Lando and I…we’re professionals first. We’ll handle this.”

Chiara smiled, relieved by your response. “I know you will. Just keep in mind that perception is everything in this sport. And right now, you both have the world’s attention.”

With that, Chiara gave your arm a reassuring squeeze before heading off to her next order of business. You stood there, rooted to the spot for a moment, letting her words sink in. The exhilaration of the victory still buzzed through you, but it was now tinged with the sobering reality of the situation. The weight of her advice pressed down on your shoulders, reminding you that nothing in this world came without its complications.

You sighed, running a hand through your hair, dislodging tiny droplets of champagne that sprayed out like glittering confetti. The sticky remnants of the podium celebration clung to you, a tangible reminder of the night’s highs. What you needed now was a serious shower—something to wash away not just the champagne, but the lingering tension from your conversation with Chiara.

As you made your way toward the team’s private quarters, the hum of activity in the paddock slowly faded, leaving you alone with your thoughts. Chiara’s words echoed in your mind, a reminder of the reality you both lived in—a world where every glance, every gesture, could be dissected and spun into a narrative you had little control over. The media would indeed be relentless, and the fans, always watching, would be insatiable in their curiosity. But how could you distance yourself from something—or someone—that had become so central to your life, to your happiness? The chemestry you shared with Lando was undeniable, and no amount of PR maneuvering could erase what you felt for him.

As you reached the lockers, you turned on the shower, eagerly anticipating the soothing warmth of the water to ease the tension knotted in your muscles. The promise of relief was a welcome thought after the intensity of the day.

You let out a small sigh, beginning to discard your champagne-soaked clothes. The polo that had clung to your skin now felt heavy, both physically and metaphorically, as you peeled it off and tossed it into the laundry bin. The day’s victories and challenges seemed to weigh on you all at once. The exhilaration of the win, the tension with Lando, the quiet moments where everything between you felt so effortless—they all mingled in your mind, creating a cocktail of emotions that left you feeling both intoxicated and exhausted.

You stood there for a moment, stripped down to your underwear, the cool air of the locker room a welcome contrast to the heat of the day. Lost in thought, you hadn’t even noticed Lando entering until you felt his presence, a subtle shift in the air that made the tiny hairs on the back of your neck stand on end. The realization of how exposed you were hit you all at once—half-naked and vulnerable in more ways than one.

Your first instinct was to cover yourself, but something in the way Lando looked at you made you pause. His eyes, darker now with an intensity that was impossible to ignore, roamed over your body, lingering on the curves and lines revealed by your lack of clothing. The heat that flushed your cheeks had nothing to do with embarrassment and everything to do with the way his gaze set your skin ablaze. You couldn't meet his gaze fully, not when you were absolutely sure it would burn you from the inside.

He murmured your name, his voice low, vibrating with a tension that matched the fire in his eyes. The way he said it, the way his gaze traced over you, made it feel like a caress. “Look at me.”

There was a challenge in his tone, and you met it head-on, your breath catching as your eyes locked with his. In the fluorescent lighting of the locker room, his features seemed more defined, his jawline sharper, his lips fuller.

There was no mistaking the desire that simmered just beneath the surface, a reflection of the same need that pulsed through your veins. It was as if the world had narrowed to just the two of you, the space between you crackling with a chemistry that had been building for far too long.

Lando took a step closer, his gaze never leaving yours, and with each inch he closed, the air around you seemed to thicken, heavy with anticipation. He was close enough now that you could feel the warmth radiating from his body, the scent of his skin—champagne and amber with a hint of the adrenaline that still lingered from the race—filling your senses.

The silence stretched between you, and yet, it was as if an entire conversation was taking place, unspoken but understood. Every fiber of your being was attuned to him, the tension between you palpable. "I can practically hear that big brain of yours working overtime." he said, his voice even lower now, almost a rumble. His hand reached out, fingertips brushing lightly against your arm, leaving a trail of electricity in their wake. The touch was gentle, but it was enough to make you shiver, your skin hypersensitive to every point of contact.

The last remnants of your resolve began to crumble, and you could see the same struggle playing out in Lando’s eyes. There was a flicker of hesitation, a silent question hanging in the space between you—whether to cross this line, to take what you both so clearly wanted.

But then he stepped even closer, his hand sliding up your arm to your shoulder, his fingers tracing the curve of your collarbone. The touch was light, almost reverent, but it carried the weight of everything unsaid between you. His eyes followed the path his hand made, and when he looked back up at you, there was no more hesitation, only a hunger that mirrored your own.

“You have no idea what you do to me,” he whispered, his voice rough around the edges, as though he was barely holding himself back.

You could feel the heat pooling between your legs, a familiar ache begging to be satisfied. With every brush of his fingers, you felt your resolve crumbling.

You tilted your chin up, your lips parting in invitation. The look in his eyes was pure need, a reflection of the desire coursing through you. He leaned in, his breath warm on your lips, his scent simply intoxicating now that it was mixed with the sharp fruity champagne.

It was as if time had slowed down, and all you could focus on was the heat of his body, the anticipation of his touch, the promise of everything that would come next. And then, finally, he closed the distance between you, capturing your lips in a kiss that sent a jolt of electricity through your body.

The feel of his lips on yours was electric, sending sparks racing across your skin. His mouth moved against yours, hungry and demanding, his tongue tracing the seam of your lips, seeking entrance. You opened for him, letting him deepen the kiss, savoring the taste of him. It was like nothing you had ever experienced before—the combination of the champagne, the adrenaline, and the sheer relief of finally giving in to the chemistry that had been simmering between you was enough to make your head spin.

As his hands roamed over your bare skin, igniting a trail of heat wherever they touched, you could feel your body responding, the desire building with every passing second. He kissed you like a man starved, and you met his hunger with your own, matching his pace. Your hands found his chest, feeling the rapid beat of his heart under your palms, the heat of his skin drawing you in like a magnet. He was solid and real beneath your touch, and you pressed yourself against him, the sensation of his body against yours igniting something primal and uncontrollable inside you.

Lando’s breath hitched at the contact, his hands splaying across your back, fingers digging in just enough to send a shiver down your spine. His mouth hovered just inches from yours, his breath warm against your lips, and you could feel the tension coiling tighter between you, ready to snap.

“Lando,” you whispered, your voice barely audible, more a plea than anything else.

That was all it took to break the final thread of restraint. There was no gentleness now, only the raw, urgent need that had been simmering between you for what felt like forever.

You kissed him back with equal fervour, your hands sliding up to tangle in his damp curls, pulling him even closer as his hands roamed over your back, your waist, every inch of skin he could reach. The heat of his body, the taste of him on your lips—it was overwhelming in the best possible way, drowning out every thought that wasn’t about him, about this.

Lando’s hands found the clasp of your bra, and with a practiced flick, he had it undone, the fabric slipping away as his hands moved to cup your breasts, his thumbs brushing over your nipples in a way that made you gasp against his mouth. The sound seemed to fuel him, and he deepened the kiss, his tongue sweeping into your mouth as he backed you up against the lockers, the cool metal a sharp contrast to the heat between you.

You could feel the solid press of his body against yours, his arousal evident as he pinned you to the lockers, his hands never ceasing their exploration. Reaching your panties, his fingers slid under the band, tugging them down in one smooth motion, his movements sure and confident, as if he knew exactly what he wanted. The sheer contrast of standing before him completely naked while he remained fully clothed amplified the raw vulnerability of the moment, making it feel intensely intimate and charged with a potent, almost primal, energy.

Your own hands moved lower, sliding down his clothed chest, his hard abs, until you reached the waistband of his pants. The feel of his muscles tensing under your touch sent another wave of desire through you, and you wasted no time in slipping your hand beneath the fabric, finding his impressive length and trying to wrap your fingers around him.

His forehead resting against yours as he sucked in a sharp breath, his eyes closing as the friction elicited a rush of pleasure that had him breaking the kiss to let out a curse. For a moment, he just stood there, his breath ragged, his hands tightening on your hips, as if trying to steady himself.

“You’re driving me crazy,” he muttered, his voice thick with desire, and the raw honesty of it sent a thrill through you.

“Good,” you replied, your own voice husky with need, your hand beginning to move with deliberate strokes that had him groaning, his head dropping to your shoulder as he tried to keep himself in check. He reached for his fireproofs and pulled them off, his movements almost frantic. You helped him, pushing the fabric over his hips, revealing the perfection of his physique.

You couldn't help but stare at him, taking in the lean, sculpted lines of his body, the taut muscles that flexed with each movement. You inhaled a sharp breath as your eyes finally landed on his cock, hard and swollen with desire. You were no stranger to the male anatomy as your hormones and curiosity had gotten the best of you in the past, but you were starting to become nervous about taking his impressive size inside of you.

Before your brain could spiral too far, you felt Lando's hands on you, his touch firm but gentle, his calloused fingertips sending shivers of pleasure through your body as he traced patterns along your skin, as if he was trying to memorize every inch of you. The chemistry between you had ignited into a full-blown inferno, and neither of you had any intention of putting it out. 

In a fluid motion, Lando lifted you, your legs wrapping around his waist as he carried you over to the shower that had been steaming in anticipation. You giggled as the warm water hit your skin, the tension between you melting away as the shower cascaded over you both.

"I've been wanting to do this since the moment I saw you," he said, his voice low and rough, the sound of it sending a shiver of anticipation down to your core.

"Then don't make me wait any longer," you replied, a challenge and a plea, and the heat that flared in his eyes at the words was enough to make you burn for him.

He lowered his mouth to yours, the kiss slow and deep, a delicious contrast to the urgency. His hand reached between your legs, finding the wetness there and stroking with just the right amount of pressure, his thumb circling your clit and making you gasp into his mouth. He seemed to know exactly what you needed, and he used it against you, building you up slowly but surely, the pleasure coiling tighter and tighter with every expert movement of his hand.

You clung to him, your nails digging into the slick skin of his back, a desperate attempt to anchor yourself against the waves of pleasure that threatened to consume you. He entered two of his thick fingers making you whimper at the stretch. His free hand was on the side of your face, tilting it up to capture your lips with his, kissing you with a tenderness that belied the urgency of the situation. You knew he was trying his best to prepare you for his cock, but it was a lot. He was a lot.

"I don't think you're going to fit," you whispered, feeling embarrassed, but he just smiled, his fingers still working their magic.

"Oh, I will," he promised, and you felt a jolt of desire shoot through you at the certainty in his voice.

The words sent a rush of heat through you, and you felt yourself clenching around his fingers, the pleasure intensifying as he stroked your g-spot with precision. Lando swallowed your moans, the feel of his body pressed against yours, the warmth of the water surrounding you, and the expert movements of his hand bringing you closer and closer to the edge. He was relentless, his fingers working you relentlessly until the pleasure became too much, the tension snapping and sending you crashing over the edge.

The orgasm tore through you, leaving you trembling in its wake, and Lando held you close, his hands gentle now as he supported you. You were gasping for air, the feeling so intense it was almost overwhelming. He murmured your name, his voice soft and low, the sound of it making something inside you ache.

You looked up at him, meeting his gaze, the intensity of his eyes almost enough to make you forget how to breathe.

"I've got you," he murmured, his voice full of emotion, and in that moment, you believed him.

Slowly, the haze of pleasure began to clear, and you became aware of the tension coiled in his body, the way his muscles were taut with restraint, the evidence of his own desire pressed against your thigh. He was still rock-hard, and you suddenly wanted nothing more than to feel him inside you, to experience that connection on a deeper level.

"I'm ready," you breathed, your voice laced with a need that you could no longer deny.

He nodded as he turned you around, pressing your face against the cool tile, a sharp contrast to the warmth of the water. Your breath hitched as he lined up his cock with your entrance, the blunt tip already threatening to breach you. He gathered some of your moisture by rubbing his tip against your folds, sending jolts of pleasure through your body.

"I'll go slow," he whispered, as his other hand grabbed your neck, forcing you to arch your back. He took a moment to burn this very image in his mind. He had thought about this moment countless times before, but now that it was happening, it was even better than he could have imagined.

With a slow, deliberate push, he was able to get the head inside. Your eyes shut as you felt the stretch, his girth much more than you were used to. You let out a whimper as you reached for the hand currently holding your neck, seeking his support. You could hear him mutter under his breath, the words too quiet for you to make out. You assumed it was a string of curse words, but you didn't dare look.

With his hand gripping your hip, he pushed deeper, slowly but steadily, inch by inch. You could feel every vein on his perfect cock, the stretch dancing on the edge of pain and pleasure. He kept stopping, pulling back a bit and then pushing deeper again. You could tell he was doing his best to let you adjust to his size, but it was still a struggle.

Once he bottomed out, he groaned as you let out a sound that you've never heard yourself make before. A mixture between a moan and gasp. His hands traveled up your body, finding your breasts and giving them a squeeze, before settling on your shoulders. You could feel the water trickling down your back as the steam created a haze around the two of you. You were both panting, trying to catch your breath. You could feel his hot breath against your ear.

"Are you okay?" he asked, his voice rough, a mixture of desire and concern.

"Yes," you answered, not even recognizing your own voice, "I'm just a little...full."

He chuckled at that, his cock twitching inside you. He slowly started moving his hips, the drag of his cock against your walls lighting up every nerve in your body. You couldn't string two thoughts together as he started creating a torturous rhythm. One of his hands travelled down to your bundle of nerves, pinching it with every thrust.

"Fuck," you cursed, "fuck, fuck, fuck." You couldn't believe how drunk you were on him.

He chuckled as he grabbed you from the now warm tile, resting you flat against his front. The new angle allowed him to reach deeper, making you whimper and whine with every thrust. His hands reached for your jaw, tilting it so he could stare deeply into your eyes. He was watching every reaction, every change in your expression.

"Tell me what you feel." he demanded, his voice hoarse, and you forced yourself to open your eyes, meeting his gaze. The intensity of his stare was almost enough to send you over the edge again, but you clung to the last threads of your self-control, desperate to prolong this moment.

"I feel...I feel everything," you gasped, the words barely more than a whisper. “I’ve never felt like this b—"

He silenced you with a kiss, swallowing the rest of your words. It was a clash of tongues and teeth, a battle for dominance that neither of you could win. The heat between you was unbearable, the need for release consuming every thought. You knew he was close, could feel the tension coiling in his muscles, the way his thrusts were becoming more erratic, less controlled. But you weren't ready to let go, not yet.

You pulled away from the kiss, forcing him to meet your gaze. "Please don't stop," you begged, your voice rough with need, "I need you, Lando."

That was all it took. His eyes darkened, and he let out a growl, his grip on your jaw tightening as he captured your lips again, the kiss almost violent in its intensity. It was as if a switch had been flipped, the raw hunger between you reaching a new level.

He fucked into you with wild abandon, his hips snapping as he chased his release. The pleasure was blinding, the sensation of his cock filling you, stretching you, sending you spiraling toward the edge. You could feel the tension building, the pleasure coiling tighter and tighter until you could no longer hold back.

The orgasm crashed over you like a wave, stealing the air from your lungs as your body shuddered in his arms. Your eyes closed, the white light behind your eyelids pulsing in time with the waves of pleasure washing over you. You couldn't breathe, couldn't think, could only cling to him as you rode out the storm.

Lando buried his face in the crook of your neck, his lips finding the delicate skin there, sucking and nibbling. You could feel the pleasure building again, the combination of his cock inside you, his hands gripping your hips, his lips against your neck sending you hurtling toward another climax.

"I'm close," he panted, his voice rough with need, "so close, fuck."

The words sent a surge of heat through you, and you clenched around him, feeling him shudder as his own release washed over him. You grabbed as his curls, forcing him to look at you, the intensity of his gaze pushing you over the edge again, the pleasure so intense it bordered on pain.

"Fuck, I can feel you," he gasped, his cock twitching inside you as your core milked him, the sensation of his release triggering another wave of pleasure.

You both clung to each other, riding out the waves, the intensity of the moment rendering you speechless. You were both gasping for air, the aftershocks of pleasure coursing through your bodies. Lando buried his face in your neck, his lips ghosting over your skin, the sensation almost too much to bear.

You stood there for what felt like an eternity, wrapped in each other's arms, the only sound the steady beat of the water as it cascaded over you. You couldn't remember the last time you'd felt so sated, so utterly spent.

Finally, Lando pulled back, his eyes searching yours, his expression a mix of emotions—relief, contentment, and a hint of something else, something that sent a thrill through you. He brushed a strand of hair from your face, his touch gentle, almost reverent.

"That was...fuck," he said, his voice rough, a smile tugging at the corner of his lips.

You grinned, the joy and satisfaction evident in every line of your body. You could feel him slowly softening inside you, and you reluctantly unwrapped your legs, letting him slide out of you. You gasped feeling yourself become sore already. He chuckled as he noticed, turning off the water and wrapping you in a towel, gently drying you off before lifting you up in his arms.

"You're gonna kill me," he muttered, a spark of humor in his voice, and you laughed, the sound echoing off the tiles, the sound carefree and light.

You kissed him, slow and deep, the kiss full of promises and possibilities. This was only the beginning, and you both knew it. You pulled back, gazing at him with a mixture of awe and admiration, your heart full of the realization of what you'd found, the connection between you now undeniable.

"Get that perfect ass to media duty before they start sending out a search party," you teased, a chuckle escaping as you watched the realization of his looming responsibilities flicker across his face.

"Yes, ma'am," he replied, giving you a quick peck on the lips before setting you down, "but just know, this was the best shower I've ever taken."

You smirked, unable to hide the blush creeping across your cheeks. "I'll keep that in mind."

As he left, a sense of calm washed over you, the satisfaction of the moment lingering in the air like a sweet perfume. The memory of his touch, the weight of his body against yours, the deliciously filthy sounds he had coaxed from you, would stay with you forever, a private treasure. You sighed, reveling in the warmth and comfort that seemed to envelop you, the afterglow of your tryst still humming through your veins.

[persuasivetfs]

A Concerned Friend

Funny thing about churches, for all their talk about faith and trust in their fellow man, they always locked their backdoors, at least all of the different churches Carlos used to attend with his parents did. The back door of Our Lady of Sacred Contentment church seemed to be an exception to the rule. Not only was their backdoor unlocked, but unmonitored by the barest of security systems. It was almost as if they were daring someone to break in. Thankfully Carlos wasn’t there for anything malicious, he just wanted information.

The lanky youth still struggled with the door though. It was heavy, made of a thick wood that required his whole weight to push open. Once inside though he was alone. Carlos made sure to pick a time when, according to the bank’s outward facing security cameras across the street, there was little movement in and around the church.

Slinking through the carpeted back rooms and hallways of the church, Jeremey stealthily made his way into the back office. Closing the door quietly behind him, he then drew the blinds, before sitting down at the office computer. While Carlos would have been ill-prepared to deal with a locked door due to his low physical strength, he was more than ready to tear into the church’s firewall. He had arrived with his flash drive, connective cables, his laptop, and years of experience hacking into the security system of his old high school. Except, like the back door of the church, the computer was left practically wide open to infiltration. Private files, including that of financial records and the personal notes of pastors were all helpfully labeled and the computer didn’t even require a password to access. Only a slight movement against the mouse.

Shaking his head with disappointment, Carlos nonetheless began pouring through documents. At first, he started with a broad scan of words including “testosterone”, “hormones”, and “steroids” but came up empty. So he broadened his search to include “body-building”, “strength”, and “masculinity” which brought in new results but not the kind he hoped. What he was expecting to find was a miracle drug, not articles encouraging “sportsmanship” in church league basketball and notes for sermons around “healthy masculinity” based on the life of Jesus. So, desperate, he broke the one rule he set aside for himself. He looked for information on Dwayne.

Before the church, Dwayne had been his best-friend since high school. Two nerdy non-white boys in a sea of white faces that ruled over AP courses like their own exclusive club. Carlos had even been excited that they were staying in town together, even if Dwayne himself didn’t have plans beyond high school. He always hoped that as soon as his programming career took off, that he would convince Dwayne to join in on the gold mine with him. Then the two of them could move to Silicon Valley and live comfortably, maybe even together, Carlos had hoped together. Then Dwayne suddenly joined the Church and everything changed.

It was like his whole personality changed. Everything was about Jesus, and when it wasn’t about Jesus it was about basketball, and when it wasn’t about basketball it was about Keyon.

Keyon said this, Keyon said that. As if Keyon hadn’t stopped hanging out with them the second he realized he could get more respect playing sports than he ever could on the mathletics team. Dwayne, too, had become a stranger. An extremely attractive stranger, but one who wouldn’t even look at Carlos anymore. It frustrated him to no end.

All this time Carlos had assumed it would be him and Dwayne against the world, but now he didn’t need him anymore. He had Keyon and his girlfriend and his sports, and Carlos had what? His computer? His ability to peer into any security camera system he wanted? The hope of a well-paying career in the face of climate collapse?

At that point, Carlos had even floated thinking of joining the church outright. Homophobic or not, he had seen the church’s results on his former friend and all the bizarrely muscular and attractive Christian men in town, and God did he want that same body for himself. At least if he was in the Church, he could likely fuck all the hot sexually repressed men he wanted, but then he thought, why give them the satisfaction? At least by taking the information directly, he might find a way to look that good and not have to join a cult.

As he searched for any information on Dwayne, he was surprised to find not only detailed notes on his former friend, but many other active members of the Church. Hidden in a file labeled “mental evaluations” Carlos found scores of information detailing people’s personal lives.

Under Dwayne he found notes like, “Subject remains content and blissful in the Lord’s love, but his attachment towards Keyon may require further conditioning. Seems to have no recollection of his former life. Pastor Carter is supervising his continued development but requests advice from a more experienced pastor.” This by itself suggested a level of emotional manipulation and control that Carlos feared but partially expected from Christianity, but there was also a list of all of Dwayne’s personal relationships including those he had before he joined the church, but none of those names were his own. Carlos scoured the list. Identities included second and third cousins and that time Dwayne signed up in a robotics competition with that girl from their AP British Literature course, but not Carlos.

There was a polite knock at the door.

His heart dropped. The door opened and Carlos threw himself to the carpeted floor, facedown. Hoping out of a bizarre strain of luck that the stranger would see the darkened office and then leave. He struggled not to breathe.

“Find what you’re looking for?” a male voice asked from above him.

Spitting out carpet fibers, Carlos raised his head to find one of the pastors looking down on him. A white guy. Fuck.

Instinctively he smiled.

“No hablo inglés,” Carlos tried sheepishly. He went to gather his things while keeping his head down. If the pastors were as trusting as they were with their building’s security, maybe they wouldn’t suspect him if he pretended not to speak English. The pastor cocked his head to the side and smiled warmly.

“Saludos mi amigo de habla Hispana? ¿Qué estás haciendo aquí?“

Fuck. Carlos stopped gathering his things.

“I’m about to be arrested, aren’t I?” Carlos asked, his voice tipped with dread.

“No, but I would like to have a chat. So if you wouldn’t mind, let's take this conversation to the sacristy. Away from the computer,” the pastor said with barely concealed snark.

He stood in the doorway like a teacher as Carlos walked past, the older man following him with his eyes as the pastor shut the door behind him. He led them to the brightly lit room that Carlos had first entered on breaking into the church, then bade him to take a seat in one of two uncomfortable looking purple chairs. Carlos took the one on the left, closest to the office. There was no real chance of escape with his laptop that held all his personal information in the next room. The pastor took the second chair, stretching his limbs like a sleepy cat before he sat down. He crossed his legs like a girl, then leaned forward, his smile wide and unnerving.

“I’m not undocumented,” Carlos blurted out.

“That’s good to know, but if you or anyone you know are, we have many services focused on supporting immigrant communities. I know I have some pamphlets somewhere,” the pastor said, searching his jacket pockets.

“I’m fine. Thank you. If anything I’m just surprised, considering your church’s conservative politics,” Carlos said, eyeing him suspiciously.

“Our Church is a place of God and we welcome all people. Part of our church’s mission in worldwide evangelization is a world free of borders and man-made oppression,” the pastor informed him, cheerfully.

“Right, the only acceptable oppression is the kind ordained by God,” Carlos said, sarcastically.

“Correct,” the pastor answered without a trace of irony.

“Okay, cool,” Carlos said, sinking into the back of his seat.

“So let’s talk about why you broke into the church’s private office today, but first an introduction. My name is Pastor Agosti, and you are…” the pastor trailed off.

Carlos wanted to tell him a fake name. Something cool like Big Papi or Axel Steel. Instead he said, “I know about your church’s mind control program!” He slammed a hand to his lips before he could say anything else asinine.

The pastor blinked.

“How much did you…” he trailed on and at that Carlos immediately cracked. He told Pastor Agosti everything he knew. The secret personal files, the surveillance of church members, the church’s terrible security, the blatant attempts to control people’s personal relationships, the obviousness in which the Church was changing men’s bodies and minds to be more pliable for the church. By the time he finished, Carlos was exasperated. To his surprise, despite the pastor not having left his spot and there being no one else in the church Carlos found a glass of water next to him on a coffee table. Not thinking too much about it, he drank quickly, grateful it was there. As he spoke the Pastor had merely listened attentively, staying quiet and nodding his head every once in a while.

“What do you want, Mr. Rodriquez?” the pastor asked, dropping into a thick Italian-American accent that hadn’t been so prominent as when Carlos began rattling off what he discovered.

“Money? Your friend back? Please, blurt it out at your nearest convenience,” the pastor mocked, leaning back into his chair, folding his hands across his chest like he was a Sicillian mob boss. Carlos gulped.

“I want to be hot,” Carlos admitted to the floor, unable to meet the pastor’s eyes. He felt so stupid speaking it aloud to someone.

“Excuse me?”

“I want whatever you did to Dwayne, minus the Christianity. The beautiful face, the muscular, well-toned body, the confidence. Every man walks out of here looking like a sports model and I want that. Desperately. To be honest, I’ll even take the exact same route you had for Dwayne. Put me on the church intramural basketball team, I don’t care. Hell, I’ll even sit through whatever Church service you want if it means I’ll have a body every gay man drools over. Please, that’s all I want, please just help me,” Carlos practically begged. Just the thought of Dwayne or Mr. Khan or that Bulgarian preacher with the swimmer’s body was getting him hard.

“You know, maybe you’re right, Carlos. Maybe our church has been playing fast and loose with its security. I suppose, us pastors have been so convinced of the Lord’s protecting grace that we foolishly believed we didn’t need to lock our doors or hide the personal changes we’ve brought to some of our followers. Maybe we need to adjust our tactics because if a boy fresh out of high school can soak up so much information behind our backs, we may be in danger,” Pastor Agosti said, nodding his head in thought. Then his gaze fell back upon Carlos who shivered.

“But then again, Mr. Rodriquez, you haven’t been that boy for some time,” Pastor Agosti said and Carlos could only watch as his body began to inflate from underneath him. His fingers, once long and nimble, perfect for fast-paced computer work became short and stubby, more accustomed to holding a pen than they were to typing on a computer. His t-shirt, baggy on his wiry frame, started to strain and tear apart as Carlos’s stomach and pecs pushed outward. His bony ass and narrow hips that had been so easily contained to the cushioned chair, soon became restrained by them as his ass cheeks sagged outward from under the plastic handrests.

“This isn’t what I wanted!” Carlos yelled, breathing heavily. “I wanted to be muscular and athletic!”

“Oh there’s definitely muscle under there, Mr. Rodriquez, just atrophied. Age will do that to a man,” Pastor Agosti said with fiendish delight.

Carlos in a panic felt his hair and sure enough it began to recede under his touch. His hair, once covering his eyes, was shrinking away, his hairline moving back across his skull inch by inch until it nearly disappeared entirely. By the time it was done, only a small pool of hair was left at the very top of his head, and even that was starting to thin out. Yet as his head hair receded, his nose twitched as facial hair grew out over his chin and under his nose.

Carlos wanted to scream again, to thrash and throw the chair at the foul creature that had done this to him, but seeping into his brain came a strange and debilitating calm. He tried to fight it, he tried to resist, but his own body was betraying him, relaxing him, easing him into the changes. He released a deep breath against his own wishes and sighed with relief, his thoughts slowing down. With his increased age and bulk, Carlos was feeling tired, worn down when he should have felt energized and full of fear.

“You no longer have the body you once did, old man. Accept it,” came a thought and on great urging from his body, he did. Maybe when he was younger, Carlos had the luxury to be so wound up and full of nervous energy. It was how he did so well as a wide receiver back in high school and college, but in his middle-age, he no longer had the energy to get too worried about things. Still, as tired as he was, this chair was so uncomfortable.

It was nothing like his own office chair. His office chair was double wide and properly cushioned, allowing Carlos to sit for hours without complaint. Not that he didn’t have much time for sitting during the day. Carlos was far more used to striding across the air conditioned interior of his private car dealership, shaking hands and smiling at prospective clients as they came looking for good prices on new and used cars.

He tried to shake himself out of those thoughts, to focus on what he loved about computer programming and hacking and all the nerdy things he loved all his life, but that sounded just so needlessly difficult. Carlos worked at a car dealership because he was born with a silver tongue so it was easy, he loved sports because everyone else he knew loved sports, he joined the Church because everyone he knew loved Jesus, he hated homosexuality because-

At this his thoughts stopped, confused. He looked down at the shreds of his former life, evidenced by his frayed shirt and tattered shorts.

“What am I even doing here?” Carlos asked himself in a daze. From his straining boxer briefs, his dick was hard at full mast, his balls significantly larger and pressing up against the fabric. It left him tremendously horny, deisiring men, but why would he be doing that if he hated homosexuality?

Upon noticing his confusion at his current state, Agosti willed it so Carlos’s clothes began to shift as his body had done. His torn apart graphic t-shirt depicting a Japanese cartoon, blurred until it became a white collared shirt. His cargo shorts lengthened and widened as they became a pair of black slacks, fastened by a leather belt. His dirty sneakers shifted into a pair of brown loafers while a scarlet tie slithered and tightened around his throat. Meanwhile, his underwear, once the freest piece of clothing on his changed body became its tightest, shifting into a pair of ball clenching white briefs that kept him hard and pent up throughout the day. Then to finish his outfit change, a black Apple watch materialized on his wrist, full of message notifications from his employees at the dealership. He smirked. They were helpless without him.

“Mr. Rodriquez?” Pastor Agosti asked. The heavy set man blinked.

“Right, I forgot. We were talking about faggots weren’t we, pastor?” Carlos asked, his newly deepened voice unsteady.

“I believe we were, yes. You had an observation about them I believe,” Pastor Agosti said, curiously, watching him like a cat playing with a ball of string. Carlos, not picking up on this, smiled at the pastor confidently.

“Yes,” Carlos said, voice rumbling. “I find that the sin of homosexuality stems from a lack of stable Christian parenting, yet even this can be corrected with the right instruction and guidance. It's unfortunate that so many could grow up so confused. A secretary of mine, unmarried, has a son she suspected of such confusion, a man I see like one of my own sons, but after a man to man conversation with the boy I found that all he needed was a slap on the ass for him to return to the path of the straight and narrow.”

“That’s a beautiful story, Mr. Rodriquez. I’m sure it must be difficult with such feminine temptations at work with your own wife working in another state.”

Carlos reflected on the gold ring on his finger, and the precious 16 year marriage he shared.

“Don’t you worry about that pastor. She’s spreading the word of God just as you do. Besides, we find ways to reaffirm our love to one another, even if at a distance,” Carlos said smugly and the pastor nodded.

“I’m glad to hear that, though I have to admit that neither I or to my knowledge any of my fellow pastors, have any need for a new or used vehicle. Your input however is greatly appreciated,” Pastor Agosti said formally, his accent pulling away like a 2008 Jeep Cheroke.

Blinking again, Carlos came to accept the pastor’s words as true. It would make sense that he would corner the priest in private where there would be no one and no pressing responsibilities to take him from Carlos’s pitch. He was a shark, he never gave up on a sale. It would be like fumbling the ball inches from the touchdown line.

“I understand your point of view, Pastor, and I respect it, but as a fellow Christian I feel it would be dishonorable for me not to tell you what I’ve heard from others in town about your choice in vehicle. Some erroneous negative opinions, but if you don’t want to hear it I’ll just leave,” Carlos said, getting up from the chair. He took a few steps and entered the church’s private office. There he gathered his open briefcase full of car listings, and his old laptop, an aged device he barely used anymore and went to leave.

“What possibly could people in town be saying about me? What could you possibly know about it?” Pastor Agosti asked, incredulously. Carlos smiled but wiped it away before the priest could see it.

“Talk is that you're a repressed homosexual yourself, pastor,” Carlos said, quietly.

“What did you say to me?” Pastor Agosti fumed, his left eye twitching.

“Now you didn’t hear it from me, but some people here think that with your rundown sissy Lexus-“

”Rundown Lexus? It's called humility. It’s a good thing, I don’t buy a brand new car every year. So what if it's a Lexus? People won’t think that makes me gay, does it? Does it?” Pastor Agosti asked, displaying an anxiety Carlos didn’t know the normally in control priest had.

”Now, I defended you, truly, swear on the Bible, honest to God, said you were a good Christian and that you practice what you preach, but your choice in vehicle certainly made it… difficult,” Carlos said expressing his unease. His memories were loose in his head, but he could at least piece together a narrative about the priest that he could exploit even if it wasn’t true.

“Then what am I supposed to do? I don’t want the congregation to believe I’m spending their donations to the church on materialistic frivolity,” Pastor Agosti opposed, shaking his head and wiping away sweat. Carlos put a firm, confident hand on the man’s shoulder.

“Pastor, come down to my car dealership whenever you get the chance. I’ll see you in the best used modestly priced car that will finally put those sissy rumors to bed. Here’s my card,” Carlos said with a carnivorous smile, handing him a business card that appeared just as he reached for it. The pastor nodded and took it, eyeing him nervously.

Another alert on Carlos’s Apple watch came up.

“I hate these newfangled things. I need one of my sons just to use my Ipad,” Carlos said with a sigh. He patted the priest’s back.

“Well, I should be off. They can’t do anything without me down there,” Carlos said with a chuckle. He headed for the door.

“Wait, Carlos- Mr.Rodriquez-“ he corrected, “what do you know of Dwayne Taylor?”

Carlos frowned, scratching his head. His life was mostly solidified but there was that last loose end that left him untethered. A vague sense of wanting the two to work together in California of all places but then it hit him.

“Why, he’s a brilliant young man on and off the court. I’m hoping he considers my offer to sell cars for me. He might rival my eldest in terms of natural charisma, though neither of them come close to me,” Carlos said with another proud chuckle, his wide stomach jiggling.

“It's good to hear, Mr. Rodriquez. I was just working on a hunch. I’ll see you down at your dealership real soon. Promise,” Pastor Agosti said, his smile not faltering until he watched Mr.Rodriquez leave the church, step outside, and drive off in his sleek luxury car.

Panicking, Pastor Agosti immediately called Lawrence on his private phone.

“Yes?”

“We have a problem. Multiple ones in fact, but first I need to know. Does driving a Lexus make me look gay?”

Carlos didn’t go to the office. At least not right away. He had some husbandly duties he needed to handle first.

At home, at midday he had the house to himself. There he shed his recently acquired clothes and took a series of nude pictures for his wife. His dick ached at the thought of filling her up with another one of his seed. He hoped it would be a boy, their fourth. Thinking of a world full of big, burly Christian men got Carlos hard in a way that could compel him to rip out the bathroom sink.

“Tell me how much you want to fulfill God’s plan?” Carlos asked in text along with the pictures. After he sent them, he leaned against his office desk and moaned in desperate want. A world full of big men, that’s what he wanted the world to be. Muscular, fat, both, he didn’t care.

All he had to do was keep the faith and surround himself with like-minded men like Dwayne. Then maybe, just maybe, Carlos could see the Lord’s vision fulfilled.

[bumbled-bees]

Lily's "Leftist" Language

WARNING: This post contains frequent use of the word "retard", though only for the sake of context, and it will be uncensored. If that makes you uncomfortable, you may want to skip this post.

Lily has backed herself into a unique and hilarious problem. She has spent years performatively calling out others for saying "retard," positioning herself as a morally superior, leftist figure who is above such language. And because her audience is made up of hyper-online progressives who will instantly turn on her if she steps even slightly out of line, she cannot—under any circumstances—risk saying it herself.

But here's the problem: she really, really wants to.

Lily’s entire persona is built on being cruel, dismissive, and condescending to anyone who disagrees with her. Insulting people is the foundation of her content. And she doesn’t just want to call people stupid—she wants to call them mentally deficient in the most derogatory way possible. But since her fanbase would eviscerate her if she said "retard" outright, she has had to come up with workarounds.

Instead of just not being an awful person, Lily has spent years finding alternative ways to insult people in ways that still invoke ableism without directly using the word. And in the process, she has managed to be even more offensive by spreading the insults across a variety of marginalized groups.

The "Go Kill Yourself" Alternatives

Because she knows she can’t say "kill yourself" outright without risking backlash, she has developed an arsenal of creative ways to tell people to kill themselves without getting caught. These include:

"Go play in traffic"

"Go to the edge of a tall building"

"Jump into a freezing pond"

"Get hit by a truck"

"Choke on your own spit"

"Ride the euthanasia coaster"

"Get run over by an SUV"

"Take God’s favorite rope swing"

Lily’s approach here is transparent—she isn’t actually hiding what she means. She just knows that if she technically doesn’t say "kill yourself," then she can maintain plausible deniability. But it’s blatantly obvious what she intends, and her audience knows it too. They just pretend not to notice because she is their creator, and criticizing her would mean admitting she’s far worse than the people she constantly moralizes against.

The "Retard" Alternatives

Lily's need to insult people’s intelligence without saying "retard" has led her to develop a horrific habit of insulting specific medical conditions, disabilities, and marginalized identities instead. Her workarounds have led her to mock:

People with Fetal Alcohol Syndrome

People with Down’s syndrome

People with birth defects from thalidomide exposure

Mentally handicapped children

People with drug addiction

People with alcoholism

People with speech impediments

People with mental health disorders

People who have sustained brain injuries

People who are illiterate

People who went to special education programs

People who have been institutionalized

People with brain damage

And, of course, her favorite workaround: "tardigrades." Because we all know what that sounds like.

This is where Lily’s hypocrisy becomes even more glaring. She regularly calls out other people for using "retard," scolding them for their ableism and positioning herself as the morally superior voice of reason. But in her attempt to avoid saying the word, she has created a system of insults that is arguably worse. Instead of just saying a slur (which would at least be consistent), she has instead chosen to insult an entire spectrum of disabilities, medical conditions, and marginalized identities.

Why She Can't Afford to Slip Up

Lily has made a career out of tearing others down, calling them bigots, and acting as if she is the final authority on progressive values. Her audience consists of hyper-online, highly reactionary people who will turn on her in an instant if she ever violates the standards she sets for others.

And Lily knows this.

She is constantly walking a tightrope—desperately trying to keep up the facade of a morally righteous, leftist figure while also being an unhinged, spiteful, abusive person who wants to say the things she publicly condemns. The longer this goes on, the more absurd her workarounds become. And every time she invents a new way to say "kill yourself" or "retard" without saying it outright, she just makes it more obvious that she is struggling to suppress what she actually wants to say.

Her audience willfully ignores these contradictions for now. But the moment she slips up—if she ever outright says the words she’s been avoiding—they will turn on her instantly. And she knows it. That’s why she’s so careful. That’s why she deletes things, edits streams, and rewrites history. Because if she ever gets caught being the person she actually is, her entire fanbase will cannibalize her.

[annieqattheperipheral]

HER STORY IS INCREDIBLE EVERYONE SIT DOWN AND LEARN FROM THIS QUEEN ⤵️

Kiana Scott, who played minor hockey system for 11 seasons, including four seasons on boys teams, gravitated to scouting from watching her brother’s games and critiquing his strengths and weaknesses.

Unaware of jobs available in hockey, she enrolled in makeup artistry college after high school, but knew her heart was in the sport.

She eventually enrolled in an online hockey general manager scouting course.

Scott joined the International Scouting Service Hockey mentorship program in 2018 and scouted for the service for two years while holding down two jobs.

“I love scouting future prospects, and the evaluation process,” she said. “I think that's kind of where my passion lies. It's just the evaluation process. And it's exciting, building a team.”

Scott spent two seasons as a full-time scout for Erie before she took a bold step and left the organization to move to Calgary and became an independent scout in June 2022.

“I just kept practicing my craft and kind of paid my own way, like, throughout the whole year,” she said. “All of the tickets to every game, all of my travel expenses, everything. I just put all my money into scouting and trying to evolve and then I ended up getting my (Avalanche) internship the next year.”

Scott had some financial help from her family for the move and she supplemented her income by working as a bartender at a Calgary casino, a job with hours that allowed her to scout games.

If all that wasn’t enough, she also enrolled in the University of Florida’s online sports management program.

“I've always had the mindset to just keep betting on myself and working hard and evolving,” she said. “I think I've taken a lot of risks to get to where I am, but I wouldn't try to change the journey for anything.”

Scott said she hopes women, women of color and people who don’t come from a so-called “traditional” hockey background will follow her on the journey.

“I grew up playing hockey, but I didn’t play professional hockey, I didn’t go to college or university for hockey,” she said. “I just had a passion for it. I love scouting. I worked at it, and I continue working at my craft.

“People that don’t necessarily come from the traditional background, I hope they see themselves in me and believe that they can put their minds to it and get it done.”

-----

The 2024 NHL Draft was as eventful for Kiana Scott as it was for the players who were selected in the seven-round event at Sphere in Las Vegas last month.

The 25-year-old Barrie, Ontario, native signed with the Colorado Avalanche at the draft to become a full-time amateur scout, fulfilling a goal she has had since she was a teenager.

“This is something that I've worked really hard for my whole career to be able to sign my first NHL contract,” Scott said. “I was elated. The Avs have been really good for me the past year, and I’m excited to keep building with them.”

Scott joined the Avalanche after working as an intern for the organization.

Colorado general manager Chris MacFarland said he and executive director of hockey operations Suzanne Borchert “were impressed with her work ethic and her passion."

MacFarland said: “Kiana was on our radar when she was scouting in major junior circuits ... and it worked that a few years ago we had an internship opportunity for her.

“She did a good job in that role and was an integral part of our amateur scouting department. We’re excited to see her contributions moving forward in her full-time role as an amateur scout.”

-----

Scott made history when she became the first woman scout in the Ontario Hockey League with Erie in March 2020.

She was among the initial of a wave of women who were hired in recent years as scouts at all levels of hockey, including Cammi Granato (Seattle Kraken), Blake Bolden (Los Angeles Kings), Krissy Wendell-Pohl (Pittsburgh Penguins), Meghan Hunter (Chicago Blackhawks), Gabriella Switaj (Anaheim Ducks) and Brigette Lacquette (Chicago Blackhawks).

Granato moved on from Seattle to become an assistant general manager for the Vancouver Canucks on Feb. 10, 2022, and Hunter was promoted to assistant GM by the Blackhawks on June 22, 2022.

“When I first started scouting, I didn’t know of any women in the industry already,” she said. “Cammi Granato got her job with the NHL a year after I started scouting. That’s when I kind of knew it was possible. But I never had anyone to look up to. I just had this dream and the passion for hockey. I knew that I had to the talent and skill to do it, and to try to keep building on them.

"That’s what I’ve always gone off on -- keep evolving, never give up on what you love.”

[eretzyisrael]

Good News From Israel

In the 2nd Mar 25 edition of Israel’s good news, the highlights include:

A week of contrasts – Buses & Bibas.

An innovative, less-invasive, Israeli device to minimize the chance of a stroke.

Israel had a friendly visit by a Pakistani Moslem leader.

See what Israel uses to prevent wildfires.

An Israeli startup is vastly extending the life of electric car batteries.

Fiji promises to be the next country to open an embassy in Jerusalem.

Read More: Good news From Israel

Israel's news last week was dominated by the heart-wrenching scenes of the coffins of the Bibas children and their young mother. But there were also many positive "Young at Heart" news stories, as can be seen in this newsletter. The Jewish Agency's "Youth Futures" program has been vastly expanded to help young Israeli families adversely impacted by the war. Simcha Layeled (Joy for the Child) entertained some 400 disabled children at their winter camp in Eilat. A new initiative allows the over-50s (young at heart) to volunteer for a year of service to Israeli communities. And watch Israeli NGO Innovation: Africa bring more clean drinking water to rural Ugandan children. A new innovative Israeli medical system unblocks arteries from the heart to the brain. And Europe is funding an Israeli professor's innovative treatments for atrial fibrillation of the heart.  Another new Israeli medical tool helps detect a mutant gene linked to autism and cancer in children. And three new Israeli medical schools have already enrolled nearly 200 future young Israeli doctors. Israel is also building a future of hi-tech engineers at Tel Aviv's Afeka College. Meanwhile, Israel's Tech It Forward is giving young college graduate immigrants tours to help them choose future careers in Israeli hi-tech. Prospective professional Israeli immigrants can now apply for their license to practice in Israel before making Aliyah. And a $25 million donation from Charles Bronfman will ensure Birthright Israel will continue to bring young Jews to Israel. Finally, you must watch the video of a class of Israeli kindergarten children visiting the Knesset (Israel's Parliament). As a platoon of visiting IDF soldiers strolls past them, the children loudly chant the Prayer for Protection of the Israeli Army.  It really pulls at the heartstrings!

The photo (TY Sharon) is of a new children's playground in Jerusalem, built next to a new Memorial to the Fallen

[nyxtickled]

I kind of can't get over you studying freakin' *robotics engineering.* Now I'm picturing you as the cool engineer on some sci-fi show. Whaddaya think? Star Trek? Something with giant robots? Maybe something grittier and more cyberpunk?

Maybe this is making too light of what you're working so hard for. Follow-up and/or substitute question: what's one of your dream projects or goals? What kind of robot(s) does Nyx most want to create, or work on?

🥹🤭 awww jeez don’t make me all fricken bashful on main i’m supposed to be tough !!!! CYBERPUNK PLEASE AAAAH

ok ok but to answer seriously, so far in my academic career i’ve worked on autonomous cars (1/10 scale autonomous racecars built essentially from scratch, a full size autonomous EV gokart, and i’ve even been fortunate enough to work on a fully autonomous indy 500 car…essentially the most advanced autonomous vehicle in the world. shit was one of the most mind blowing things i’ve ever been a part of), i’ve worked on some cool solar stuff (solar water heater for an orphanage in Tijuana, solar carport concept design for a nonprofit who wants to propose the idea of charging EV cars while they’re parked outside at work all day and distributing leftover power to the building), and my personal favorite was this project i did for a class i took where i designed an autonomous campus rideshare prototype on one of the 1/10 scale cars that was able to use facial recognition to identify the student who requested the ride and would essentially drive itself to the drop off location!

the last one was the most fun for me bc it was the first time i really got into the programming side of robotics. the car would have a starting location where it waited for ride requests, then when you submitted one it would drive itself to the location using LiDAR for collision avoidance and GPS path training. but the real doozy was the pickup stage bc i had to develop the facial recognition code to be able to scan the student’s face upon arrival with computer vision in live time with a camera that was attached to the car, and then match it to a photo of the student that was stored in a database, and then try to match the name of that student to the name of the student who requested the ride! if it matched, the screen would be like “rider verified! hop in!” and proceed to the next stage of driving itself to the drop off point. if it didn’t, the screen would read “sorry, we couldn’t verify your identity with the ride request” and drive itself back to the parking spot where it would wait for the next ride request! and the database of faces would basically come from your student ID picture, cuz the rideshare service would be around campus for students only!

god it was so fucking challenging but i had so much fun with it. so uhhhh to avoid writing 18 more paragraphs about all the cool robotics shit that i’m obsessed with, i would say my dream project is definitely something that combines machine learning software, robotics operating systems programming, and mechanical design all in one. something that could take the technological advancements that we have made and turn it into something useful for everyone. fuck i’m such a nerd i’m sorry i did NOT mean to go on like this ahahahahaha

[dreamingofu4]

I’m doing MHA reimagined because I’m bored. It’s a Dark Academia Univeristy setting during senior year. No quirks. All human forms.

Previously, Shoto Todoroki

Next, Katsuki Bakugo

Katsuki Bakugo has blond-dyed spiky hair, dark brown eyes, and a muscular build. He’s confident, passionate, and introspective. While he’s far more composed and respectful than in his younger years, his fiery personality still flares up when faced with ignorance, inefficiency, and incompetence. Bakugo would major in Criminal Justice. He wouldn’t just be studying law enforcement—he’d be diving deep into forensic psychology, criminal profiling, and tactical operations. His intensity, intelligence, and strategic mind would make him one of the most formidable students in the program, destined for a high-stakes career in law enforcement, criminal investigation, or counterterrorism. I see him becoming an FBI agent, this path gives him the action and justice-seeking purpose he thrives on. Later in life, as he becomes more strategic and philosophical he may transition into law or policy, using his experience to fix flaws in the justice system. Bakugo wouldn’t want to just fight crime—he’d want to change the way it’s handled over time.

Katsuki Bakugo 💥

Let me know who to credit or remove !! ❤️

[spacetimewithstuartgary]

New SpaceTime out Friday

SpaceTime 20241227 Series 27 Episode 156

The threat of superflares from the Sun could be as high one per century

New observations suggest the Sun may be far more violent than previously thought and capable of erupting massive superflares capable of irradiating the Earth.

First ever binary star found near our galaxy’s supermassive black hole

Astronomers have detected a binary star system orbiting close to Sagittarius A*, the supermassive black hole at the centre of our galaxy.

NASA's Lucy spacecraft swoops past the Earth

NASA's Lucy spacecraft has successfully undertaken its second close flyby of the Earth as it continues to build up speed for its journey to study Jupiter’s trojan asteroids.

The Science Report

Sea-ice levels in the oceans surrounding Antarctica reach new lows.

Men with enlarged breast tissue at heightened risk of dying before the age of 75.

More evidence that drinking a small or moderate amount of wine could help ward off heart disease.

Skeptics guide to becoming less stressed.

SpaceTime covers the latest news in astronomy & space sciences.

The show is available every Monday, Wednesday and Friday through Apple Podcasts (itunes), Stitcher, Google Podcast, Pocketcasts, SoundCloud, Bitez.com, YouTube, your favourite podcast download provider, and from www.spacetimewithstuartgary.com

SpaceTime is also broadcast through the National Science Foundation on Science Zone Radio and on both i-heart Radio and Tune-In Radio.

SpaceTime daily news blog: http://spacetimewithstuartgary.tumblr.com/

SpaceTime facebook: www.facebook.com/spacetimewithstuartgary

SpaceTime Instagram @spacetimewithstuartgary

SpaceTime twitter feed @stuartgary

SpaceTime YouTube: @SpaceTimewithStuartGary

SpaceTime -- A brief history

SpaceTime is Australia’s most popular and respected astronomy and space science news program – averaging over two million downloads every year. We’re also number five in the United States.  The show reports on the latest stories and discoveries making news in astronomy, space flight, and science.  SpaceTime features weekly interviews with leading Australian scientists about their research.  The show began life in 1995 as ‘StarStuff’ on the Australian Broadcasting Corporation’s (ABC) NewsRadio network.  Award winning investigative reporter Stuart Gary created the program during more than fifteen years as NewsRadio’s evening anchor and Science Editor.  Gary’s always loved science. He studied astronomy at university and was invited to undertake a PHD in astrophysics, but instead focused on his career in journalism and radio broadcasting. Gary’s radio career stretches back some 34 years including 26 at the ABC. He worked as an announcer and music DJ in commercial radio, before becoming a journalist and eventually joining ABC News and Current Affairs. He was part of the team that set up ABC NewsRadio and became one of its first on air presenters. When asked to put his science background to use, Gary developed StarStuff which he wrote, produced and hosted, consistently achieving 9 per cent of the national Australian radio audience based on the ABC’s Nielsen ratings survey figures for the five major Australian metro markets: Sydney, Melbourne, Brisbane, Adelaide, and Perth.  The StarStuff podcast was published on line by ABC Science -- achieving over 1.3 million downloads annually.  However, after some 20 years, the show finally wrapped up in December 2015 following ABC funding cuts, and a redirection of available finances to increase sports and horse racing coverage.  Rather than continue with the ABC, Gary resigned so that he could keep the show going independently.  StarStuff was rebranded as “SpaceTime”, with the first episode being broadcast in February 2016.  Over the years, SpaceTime has grown, more than doubling its former ABC audience numbers and expanding to include new segments such as the Science Report -- which provides a wrap of general science news, weekly skeptical science features, special reports looking at the latest computer and technology news, and Skywatch – which provides a monthly guide to the night skies. The show is published three times weekly (every Monday, Wednesday and Friday) and available from the United States National Science Foundation on Science Zone Radio, and through both i-heart Radio and Tune-In Radio.

[marshmcore]

Pondering Sniper with his Emotional Support Scout (AU)

Modern+College AU speeding bullet

Both in their early transitional age (Scout is 19, Sniper is 22), they’ve already spent a handful of years, supposedly taking the steps to build their futures, but are they where they want to be? Are they going to where they want to be? Where is it anyways?

I just had the idea for a more grounded side to their story, slice-of-life in a coming-of-age setting, with themes of existentialism. I aged them down to make it work… Under cut for info dumps about these goobers 8)

Scout took a break right after high school, working for his family business (an unsuccessful one, ran by one of his oldest brothers). This used to be a summer job, a way to get extra money as a kid, but now he’s been a full time worker for 2.5 years, familial obligations exploiting him to stay, while being undermined by his narcissistic brother. He eventually gets out of it, but has to face the hurt from being used, and also the fact that he had to grow up so quickly as a kid (especially when he has to deal with the fallout caused by his Mom’s and Spy’s affairs. He and his Mom are in good terms, it’s just his Mom isn’t a good support system atm). Left to face the real world by himself, he tries to find a way to stabilize by himself, while trying to face his trauma (trauma from a missing father figure, and being treated as the black sheep of his family) as he finds a way to be more himself and be happy. He’s optimistic and responsible when the world calls for it, otherwise he’s most likely to test this new freedom (for better or worse). Eventually Spy comes around to try to reconnect with Scout, there’s no telling how Scout will cope with it when he’s in the midst his new-found freedom.

Sniper went straight to university, never once took a break from the school work, because he thinks that’s the only way to go about in life. He took up a program and career plan that was not right for him, but struggled his way through by retaking course’s countless of times, pulling off impossible all-nighters, etc. At some point he gave up, began to drop classes every semester, and finally quit the program. However, he started working somewhere in the industry he had been studying years for. He thought this could bring him forward, but it kept digging him a deeper grave. He’s a workaholic, impulsive, but lost. At a very young age, he was a subject of a tough custody battle between his neglectful biological parents (Lar-nah and Bill-bel), and his grandparents (who are Mr and Mrs Mundee in this AU). From that, his guardians want him to be better than his parents, and in return he strived for that. However, after giving up, he feels like a failure and is currently going through a period of depression. However, with the money he earned from his job, he wonders if he should take that road-trip he used to fantasize. He told himself doing this will help him find himself, but a part of him wonders if its just him trying to run away from something. Either way, he’s got a deal for a junk RV and he wants to renovate it!

After all that, Scout and Sniper meet, their lives are in the cross roads, and their relationship is a turning point as well. It feels like the world is moving faster than they can cope with, but can they find some respite in this new relationship together? DUN DUN DUUUN

Phew this was really fun to write! I really like their dynamic, romantic or not (idc). Them being the same age range inspired me to write this, because I know myself and some friends have gone through this similar experience aswell, and I just think its fun/interesting to explore that with they have in cannon.

A lot of this projection tho lmao with a loose base derived from cannon, and some embellishments to make this AU work.

[mariacallous]

Palantir, the software company cofounded by Peter Thiel, is part of an effort by Elon Musk’s so-called Department of Government Efficiency (DOGE) to build a new “mega API” for accessing Internal Revenue Service records, IRS sources tell WIRED.

For the past three days, DOGE and a handful of Palantir representatives, along with dozens of career IRS engineers, have been collaborating to build a single API layer above all IRS databases at an event previously characterized to WIRED as a “hackathon,” sources tell WIRED. Palantir representatives have been onsite at the event this week, a source with direct knowledge tells WIRED.

APIs are application programming interfaces, which enable different applications to exchange data and could be used to move IRS data to the cloud and access it there. DOGE has expressed an interest in the API project possibly touching all IRS data, which includes taxpayer names, addresses, social security numbers, tax returns, and employment data. The IRS API layer could also allow someone to compare IRS data against interoperable datasets from other agencies.

Should this project move forward to completion, DOGE wants Palantir’s Foundry software to become the “read center of all IRS systems,” a source with direct knowledge tells WIRED, meaning anyone with access could view and have the ability to possibly alter all IRS data in one place. It’s not currently clear who would have access to this system.

Foundry is a Palantir platform that can organize, build apps, or run AI models on the underlying data. Once the data is organized and structured, Foundry’s “ontology” layer can generate APIs for faster connections and machine learning models. This would allow users to quickly query the software using artificial intelligence to sort through agency data, which would require the AI system to have access to this sensitive information.

Engineers tasked with finishing the API project are confident they can complete it in 30 days, a source with direct knowledge tells WIRED.

Palantir has made billions in government contracts. The company develops and maintains a variety of software tools for enterprise businesses and government, including Foundry and Gotham, a data-analytics tool primarily used in defense and intelligence. Palantir CEO Alex Karp recently referenced the “disruption” of DOGE’s cost-cutting initiatives and said, “Whatever is good for America will be good for Americans and very good for Palantir.” Former Palantir workers have also taken over key government IT and DOGE roles in recent months.

WIRED was the first to report that the IRS’s DOGE team was staging a “hackathon” in Washington, DC, this week to kick off the API project. The event started Tuesday morning and ended Thursday afternoon. A source in the room this week explained that the event was “very unstructured.” On Tuesday, engineers wandered around the room discussing how to accomplish DOGE’s goal.

A Treasury Department spokesperson, when asked about Palantir's involvement in the project, said “there is no contract signed yet and many vendors are being considered, Palantir being one of them.”

“The Treasury Department is pleased to have gathered a team of long-time IRS engineers who have been identified as the most talented technical personnel. Through this coalition, they will streamline IRS systems to create the most efficient service for the American taxpayer," a Treasury spokesperson tells WIRED. "This week, the team participated in the IRS Roadmapping Kickoff, a seminar of various strategy sessions, as they work diligently to create efficient systems. This new leadership and direction will maximize their capabilities and serve as the tech-enabled force multiplier that the IRS has needed for decades.”

The project is being led by Sam Corcos, a health-tech CEO and a former SpaceX engineer, with the goal of making IRS systems more “efficient,” IRS sources say. In meetings with IRS employees over the past few weeks, Corcos has discussed pausing all engineering work and canceling current contracts to modernize the agency’s computer systems, sources with direct knowledge tell WIRED. Corcos has also spoken about some aspects of these cuts publicly: “We've so far stopped work and cut about $1.5 billion from the modernization budget. Mostly projects that were going to continue to put us down the death spiral of complexity in our code base,” Corcos told Laura Ingraham on Fox News in March. Corcos is also a special adviser to Treasury Secretary Scott Bessent.

Palantir and Corcos did not immediately respond to requests for comment

The consolidation effort aligns with a recent executive order from President Donald Trump directing government agencies to eliminate “information silos.” Purportedly, the order’s goal is to fight fraud and waste, but it could also put sensitive personal data at risk by centralizing it in one place. The Government Accountability Office is currently probing DOGE’s handling of sensitive data at the Treasury, as well as the Departments of Labor, Education, Homeland Security, and Health and Human Services, WIRED reported Wednesday.