#like i think we all know and grant knows that his father really failed him and did not take the opportunities to do the right thing

[holocene-sims]

next // previous

october 1, 2021 4:15 p.m. grant's house

[juhani] hello? grant, can i call you tomorrow? it’s late.

[grant] no, you can’t. i know it’s 11 o’clock where you are right now, and i don’t really care. you answered, so you’ve trapped yourself.

[varpu, faintly] juha, if you don’t talk now, he will never call you back.

[juhani] i want to speak with you, of course i do, it’s just–

[grant] fantastic, because that’s what we’re doing. we’re talking! i have 30 years of stuff to get off my chest, and i'm sure you have your own piece to share. not sure where to start, but.

[juhani] may i ask you a question? what did you overhear at dinner the other night? are you upset i'm moving? is that it?

[grant] i mean, that stung a little after the whole “i’ll be around to build a relationship with you,” thing, but i gave you my express permission to go home, so it’s whatever. we are both adults, so i am not going to fault you for making adult decisions that improve your life. i'm more upset by you claiming you didn’t tell me about your plans or include me in the moving and wedding stuff and whatever because i'm difficult.

[juhani] that’s not what–

[grant] oh, come on. don’t kid yourself. you said it yourself, anything involving me is like pulling teeth. i heard it loud and clear.

[juhani] well, when i tell you things, you never react well. it always goes precisely like this conversation is going.

[grant] really? never? because i remember being pretty positive about your proposal and about you contacting me in the first place and about coming to dinner to acquaint myself with varpu’s kids and about meeting varpu a while back…

[grant] what i react poorly to is you leaving me out, you calling me difficult, you complaining about me in front of impressionable people, etcetera.

[juhani] i don’t want to leave you out.

[grant] that’s what varpu said, too, but i didn’t believe her, so why would i believe you?

[juhani] i have no idea how to interact with you. i've apologized to you, told you i regret the events of your childhood. nothing works.

[grant] do you regret it? because it kind of just feels like you’re doing the same shit again. abandoning me for your own self-interests. oh, and this time you’re replacing me with a brand new family you treat better.

[juhani] i'm not repl–okay, what would you prefer me do when you push me away? you told me i was difficult.

[grant] when did i say that? i mean, that's true, sure, but i would not say that to you. what i probably said that you’re misconstruing is that talking to you is hard because i'm not comfortable around you.

[juhani] and how long will it take you to be comfortable around me? i don’t know what else you want me to do. truly, i don’t, and it is not pleasant to be rejected endlessly.

[grant] well, i'd have to forgive you, but i don’t. if forgiveness was meant to happen, it would not be instant. you’d have to keep trying with me, even if i piss you off, even if i push you away. you’re my fucking father, it’s your job. you show up for your kid even if they’re horrible or annoying. you never turn your back on them. but, you know, you didn’t show up for the first 22 years you were around, so you’d have to try extra hard now to change my mind.

[grant] but honestly, i will never be comfortable around you. i've realized that over the last few days. i did actually think if you just kept trying, i'd relax and be less on edge, but nope. you could become an honest-to-god saint tomorrow, and i'll still be furious because nothing will make me understand why you couldn’t have been a decent person when i was a kid. like, when i needed you.

[grant] and i don’t get why you weren't. i don't. i'm serious. i can’t comprehend it. clearly, you have it in you to be a decent person. you love varpu's kids. you're fatherly towards them. you take them on vacation, you invite them to house and wedding venue tours, you tell them about and include them in your hobbies, you remember details about them, you smile at them without being forced, you go to their weddings and don’t flip out about them being queer even though you were viscerally disgusted with me when you found out–

[juhani] you shouldn’t bring them into this. it isn’t fair. and i've taken you on vacation before, for one.

[grant] i am being petty, but i think it's fair because i'm not shitting on them specifically. and yeah, okay, you took me on vacation once. you took me to finland exactly once, but i never met your family, and i remember nothing other than the plane rides.

[grant] and you shouldn’t do this. we don’t need to split hairs. you don’t need to crawl through that list of grievances and “well, actually” me as many times as you can manage. one vacation changes nothing. that does not erase all the times you sat there like a lame duck and ignored me or mocked me or let my mother abuse me. there is nothing for you to pat yourself on the back about.

[grant] nothing.

[juhani] so, what are you upset about now?

[grant] why?

[juhani] why what?

[grant] why are you like this? why were you a terrible father? why have no heart for me or my sisters? why did you save all your love for someone else’s kids?

[grant] oh, and how about cerise? you sure didn’t care about your bastard kids either, did you?

[grant] shit. i'm sorry. that just kind of came out. that’s not how i wanted to, you know, pepper that into this conversation. i was going to save that for the end.

[juhani] how do you know about her?

[grant] doesn't matter. it's a long story.

[grant] on that note, what is up with the secret daughter? how’d that happen? is she the only one, too, or should i be on the lookout for any other siblings? and hey, you only divorced my mother in the last few years, so you were cheating. how many times did you fuck around on her, and why would you? you wouldn’t divorce her because you were afraid of her, but apparently it's no big deal to cheat.

[juhani] grant, how can i answer you if you don't allow me to talk? cerise’s mother michelle is a doctor. your mother and i were both at a conference in detroit about healthcare outreach, and…

[juhani] i know it seems contradictory, given how long i stayed with your mother, but i was unhappy in the marriage. i met michelle there at the conference, and she was kind and intelligent, and i suppose the rest of the story should be obvious to you.

[grant] goddamn, man. i hate my mother, but that’s bold: sleeping with another woman right in front of her face.

[grant] did she ever find out?

[juhani] eventually. you remember how she was with the finances. she tracked all the money going in and out of the household. you couldn’t have one cent go missing without being accused of something, and she’d always blame it on some incident with her brother and start ranting about him.

[juhani] look, the agreement with michelle was that i'd stay out of her life and send child support, and she wouldn’t interfere with my family either. i used to lie and tell your mother the child support funds were going somewhere important, but she didn't believe me very long. she did finally question me and find out the truth.

[grant] and?

[juhani] in hindsight, her reaction reminds me a lot of the one she had when you lashed out at her during your graduation dinner. very little left her speechless, but that did. initially, i should clarify. she would go on to never let me live cerise’s existence down.

[juhani] and to answer your question, as far as i know, cerise is the only other child.

[grant] as far as you know?

[juhani] i cannot rule out further surprises.

[grant] jesus christ. my grandmother is right, all men are dogs, but you most of all.

[juhani] does it upset you that much?

[grant] again, i don’t like my mother, but if i needed any more proof that you’re more spineless than a sea sponge, this is it. you were so unhappy with my mother that you’d cheat on her, but you’d not divorce her when your kids were vulnerable.

[grant] you disgust me. you slept around and thought with your dick before you spared a single thought for the kids you let my mother abuse. or for yourself! fuck you. if you’re going to be that selfish, at least be selfish enough to prioritize yourself and leave the woman making you that miserable!

[grant] and now i don’t believe you when you say you wouldn’t leave her back then because you were scared of her. do you seriously mean to tell me it’s less terrifying to cheat on her than to just walk out of the house and never come back?

[grant] i did that, you know? when i'd had enough of my mother, i told her as much and then never spoke to her again. and guess what? wouldn’t you be so stunned to find out she’s never tracked me down, never tried to call or email to reel me back in? she left me alone after i told her to go fuck herself!

[grant] and technically, you know it's possible to leave her, too. what did you say about the divorce? that she just rolled over and let you do it and was fine with you just coughing up all the assets and dipping?

[grant] exhibits A, B, and C that she’s a coward, too. she thinks she’s the boss, but if you fight back hard enough, she gives up. you could have left her at any point in time.

[grant] god. oh my god. you stupid, spineless motherfucker. i thought i'd maxed out on anger. apparently not!

[grant] you really could have been a better father. you could have had your whole little life overhaul decades ago, and you could have saved the entire family so much pain. you, me, elizabeth, kelly…

[grant] i should have suspected as much, and i guess i did, but it's shocking to realize over and over just how useless you are as a father. i think it can't get any worse and then it does. you are a complete and utter failure as a parent.

[grant] this is why i can’t forgive you. you didn’t have to mess up so badly. but no. whatever you got out of the relationship was enough to convince you to sit there and watch my mother ruin all of us, and even thought you weren't happy with her, you got by with fucking other women and only regretted staying a billion years later when you noticed you had nothing of substance left in life but my mother. and that’s a pretty depressing way to live, isn’t it?

[juhani] i stayed because i thought we deserved each other.

[grant] with that attitude, maybe you did.

[grant] listen, i'll admit this, no problem. it’s no one’s fault that she is the way that she is. it’s not even yours. she’s abusive, and what she does to other people is her fault and her responsibility. she’s excellent, too, at convincing you to just go along with it and never question her. it's not that hard to get caught in her trap at first, and she will try her very best to break you. but at some point, you have to question anyway. at some point, you have to recognize you deserve better and do something about it.

[grant] but you didn’t. not until it was too late for it to mean anything.

[grant] i would never think i've done everything right, but in the end, i've respected myself enough to make better choices and do something about the situation i was in, and i've had to do that because the adults in my life weren’t responsible or organized enough to fix things before responsibility fell into my hands.

[juhani] you are a braver and a better man than i.

[grant] i'm glad i am, but do you know how exhausting it is to be brave all the time?

[grant] i am because you weren’t. it is entirely because you failed. you weren’t brave enough to give a fuck about yourself or your kids, so i've had to be brave my entire life. brave enough to survive my childhood, then brave enough to leave. and guess what? i don’t want to be brave. i just want to exist. and back then, i just wanted to be a kid.

[grant] just a kid.

[grant] i wanted to come home from school and play with my pokemon cards and hear my mom and my dad say, “hi honey! how was your day? we love you!" i didn’t want to live in fear of what horror would befall me each and every day.

[grant] fuck you. fuck you. fuck you. you stole my childhood. you stole elizabeth’s childhood. you stole kelly’s childhood.

[grant] you and my mother, but you could have done something. you could have given us our childhoods back. you could have done something! you should have done something!

[grant] you didn’t have to do everything right even. parents mess up, i know that, but you could have at least tried. the bar was on the floor. i would have over the moon living in a single parent household with a father who at least showed up to my hockey games if he wasn’t busy at work and gave me a hug every once in a while.

[grant] and you know what, you did more than steal our childhoods. because you couldn’t stand to sacrifice your comfort long enough to take care of your kids, we all have to live in permanent hell. i have to spend the rest of my life freaking out when someone walks up behind me or speaks too loudly or–god forbid–touches me! it took me years to finally learn not to flinch when someone high fives me! and kelly–i don’t know what she deals with, but i know her life can’t be peaceful.

[grant] again, i am not blaming you for what my mother did–i know she was not kind to you either– but i do blame you for not even trying to stop her or get away from her. you were an adult with power, and you didn't use an ounce of it. actually, you did use it, just not for good. you threw me specifically under the bus because it was easier to let my mother use me as a punching bag than you.

[juhani] you’re right.

[juhani] you’re right, grant.

[grant] i have nothing else to say, short of "fuck you" again. i think i'm done yelling at you.

[grant] no, wait, one last thing. what did you even see in my mother in the first place? what was so enticing about her that you’d stay with her so long and ditch your college sweetheart for her?

[juhani] i don’t know. i don’t know anymore.

[grant] i guess it was two people drawn to each other's misery.

[grant] great. well, that’s all, folks.

[grant] good luck with the new family. maybe you can make it right with someone else and enjoy a totally fresh start because you will never make it right with me, and i will never let you forget what you did to me and my sisters. and don’t lose varpu again, by the way. she is, like, far out of your league–so far it's not even funny–and you are lucky to have this second chance with her and to have a good relationship with her kids.

[grant] also, just so it's clear, i don't want to speak to you anymore after this. don't call me, i won't call you either, except in one circumstance. i'll consider it on the day my mother kicks the bucket. we can toast to the end of that chapter of our lives and hope that the haunting ends. because surely you have to feel a little haunted, too, right? i have a sinking suspicion that’s why you reconnected with me. you don’t care about me. you care about that fresh start, about making yourself feel better about wasting your life and fucking up everyone around you.

[cressidagrey]

64.media.tumblr.com

White Horse - Chapter 17: May 2024 - Part 1

Pairing: Max Verstappen x Isabelle Leclerc (Original Character)

Summary:

Max Verstappen is a World Champion. Isabelle Leclerc is invisible.

She watched her family give up everything for Charles’ career—Arthur’s karting, their father’s savings, even her childhood horse. She understood. She never asked for more.

But Max does. He notices the things no one else does, listens when no one else will, and puts her first in ways she never imagined. With him, she isn’t an afterthought—she’s a choice. And for the first time, she realizes she doesn’t have to be invisible.

Warnings and Notes: 

we have now moved on from Charles bashing to bashing his whole family, Discussions of toxic past relationships, talk about loosing a childhood pet, toxic families, mention of the loss of a parent

As always big thanks to @llirawolf , who listens to me ramble

Leclerc Sibling Group Chat

 (Members: Arthur, Isabelle, Charles, and Lorenzo)

Charles: Maman’s birthday next week—what’s the plan?

Arthur: Isabelle? You usually handle it.

Isabelle: Not this year.

Lorenzo: Sorry, what?

Arthur: Lol okay, very funny. What’s the plan?

Isabelle: I’m serious. I’m not doing it this year.

Charles: Wait. What do you mean you’re not doing it?

Isabelle: I mean you three can plan it this time. I’m not the family secretary. Not anymore.

Charles: Since when?

Isabelle: Since I realized I’m the only one who ever does it, and you all expect it like it’s a given. I’m not your personal event planner.

Arthur: Okay, but… you like that stuff.

Isabelle: I like when people contribute. I don’t like being taken for granted.

Charles: Whoa.

Arthur: Is this because I forgot to Venmo you for the gift last year?

Isabelle: That was two years ago, Arthur. And you still haven’t.

Lorenzo: This feels aggressive.

Isabelle: It’s not. It’s a boundary.

Charles: Okay but can’t you set it… after Maman’s birthday?

Arthur: Yeah. This is really inconvenient.

Isabelle: It’s not supposed to be convenient for you.

Charles: I don’t like this version of you.

Belle: I don’t like being the only adult in the room. So I guess we’re even.

Arthur: So you’re really not doing anything?

Isabelle: I am getting flowers from all of us. I am ordering the cake. I am doing my own gift for Maman. If you three want to do a joint gift, you can do that, but I am not planning it. One of you can book the restaurant.   

Lorenzo: This feels like a test.

Isabelle: It’s not. But you’re definitely failing it.

Charles: I feel emotionally manipulated.

Lorenzo: I feel abandoned.

Arthur: I miss the old Isabelle. The one who covered for us.

Isabelle: I don’t. She was a doormat. ***

Leclerc Brothers Group Chat

(Members: Arthur, Charles and Lorenzo)

Arthur: Okay so we still don’t have a gift for Maman and Isabelle is being stubborn.

Charles: She said “boundaries.” Since when does she have boundaries?

Lorenzo: She said she’s not helping. She meant it.

Arthur: This feels personal.

Charles: I feel abandoned. I feel like I’ve been emotionally left on read.

Lorenzo: We should’ve started this earlier.

Arthur: We always start this last-minute and it’s fine because Isabelle does everything.

Charles: She’s so good at it though. She likes organizing things.

Lorenzo: We need to be strategic. What would Isabelle get?

Arthur: Peace. Quiet. 

Charles: So a spa day?

Lorenzo: We’re not sending our mother to the spa again. She’s starting to think we believe she’s stressed.

Arthur: She is stressed. We exist.

Charles: I had an idea last night. What about a puppy?

Lorenzo: Absolutely not.

Arthur: What if we just… get her a necklace? Generic. Safe. Shiny.

Charles: No creativity. She’ll know we panicked.

Lorenzo: We are panicking.

Arthur: You know what would solve this? If Isabelle told us what to do.

Arthur:  I feel like a neglected plant.

Charles: I feel like the plant someone gave Isabelle to water, and now she’s like “it’s not my plant.”

Arthur: Cool cool cool. So we’re getting Maman a plant and pretending we planned it?

Lorenzo: ...We’re hopeless.

***

Text Messages: Isabelle Leclerc & Charles Leclerc

Charles: Okay but hear me out: What about a pottery class for her and her friends?

Isabelle: Charles it’s 2am

Isabelle: Go to sleep.

Isabelle: Maman doesn’t even like pottery. 

Charles: How about a goat?

Isabelle: A what?

Charles: A goat. Like a cute little goat. They’re trendy right now.

Isabelle: She lives in an apartment, Charles.

Charles: A small goat.

Isabelle: No.

Charles: You said I had to contribute. This is me contributing.

Isabelle: This is you spiraling.

Charles: Okay but this looks nice right?? (sends link)

Isabelle: That is a garden gnome wine holder, Charles. 

***

Group Chat: HELP ME

 (Members: Daniel Ricciardo, Lando Norris, Oscar Piastri, Lewis Hamilton, Carlos Sainz Jr., George Russell, Alex Albon and Nico Hulkenberg)

Oscar: HE DID IT

George: HE ACTUALLY DID IT

Carlos: LAAAAAAAAAANDOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

Alex: My BOY MY TWITCH STREAMER MY EMOTIONAL SUPPORT CHAOTIC SUNBEAM

Daniel: I’M CRYING IN PUBLIC WHO LET HIM BE THIS FAST WHO ALLOWED THIS WHO HANDED HIM A TROPHY AND SAID “YEAH, OKAY”

Lando: guys…

Carlos: YOU’RE HERE? GO POP CHAMPAGNE

Oscar: Put your phone down. Go cry. We’re doing it for you.

Nico H: Congrats, man. Seriously. That was a hell of a drive.

Lewis: Five years. FIVE YEARS. You deserve this.

Daniel: Do we throw him a party? Do we kidnap him and fly to Ibiza?

Alex: Yes. Obviously. We ride at dawn.

Carlos: He’s never allowed to say “I’m not good enough” again. I will slap him.

Lando: Okay okay okay 😭😭 I just… can’t believe it happened I thought I was gonna throw up before the last lap

Daniel: I’m gonna rewatch the podium 14 times. You SMILED. Like, real smiled. Oscar was lowkey crying. Don’t let him lie.

Oscar: I WASN’T …shut up

Lewis: See? You’re loved. You’re really loved.

Sebastian: This is what we call earned joy. Enjoy every second, Lando. I’m so, so happy for you 🧡

Daniel: I’m printing out today’s timing sheet and framing it

Alex: We were on Norris Watch for years. YEARS.

Checo: Congrats, man. You’ve waited a long time for this. Really happy for you.

Nico R: You’ve had the pace for a while. Today you had the moment. Bravo.

Oscar: And now he’s won. And he’s still just a slightly dehydrated raccoon in designer sunglasses

Lando: I can’t even be mad

Kimi: Took you long enough.

George: Okay but do we start placing bets on win #2 now?

Carlos: Let him breathe 😭

Lewis: Enjoy it, mate. Every second. You earned this.

Fernando: It was inevitable. That’s all.

George: Do we throw him a party? I vote party.

Mark: He’s in Miami. The party’s coming to him.

Sebastian: Just don’t let Daniel plan the itinerary.

Daniel: I’M A DELIGHTFUL PARTY PLANNER. I’VE MATURED.

Lewis: No you haven’t.

Alex: Absolutely not.

Oscar: Zero evidence of that.

Lando: I love you guys. Thank you. Seriously

George: We’re gonna get so insufferable about this

Lando:I’m gonna go sob in the shower and then drink a really big coconut

***

Text Messages: Isabelle Leclerc & Lando Norris

Isabelle:  You did it. 🧡

Isabelle: You don’t have to say anything. I just wanted you to know… I’m really, really proud of you.

Isabelle: You earned this. Every second. Every race you stayed calm. Every joke you cracked when you were hurting. Every time you smiled for fans even when you didn’t feel like it. You never gave up. And today? It all paid off.

Lando: …you’re gonna make me cry again and I’ve already cried twice.  that’s my limit for the year

Belle: Sorry 😌 I’ll save the long, emotional voice note for later

Lando: Don’t you dare Actually Do it

Isabelle:  I will. After you finish that coconut

Lando: HOW DO YOU KNOW I’M DRINKING A COCONUT

Belle: Because I know you. And you looked like you were already planning it the second you stepped on the podium

Lando: okay fair thank you, Belle really

Belle: Always. Now go celebrate. I’ll be cheering from here.

Lando: From Monaco?

Belle: From the rooftop. With our cats. They’re proud of you too.

***

Text Messages: Max Verstappen & Isabelle Leclerc

Max: Going out with Lando for a bit. Post-win celebration. He earned it.

Isabelle: Aww 🧡 That’s sweet of you. Be nice to him.

Max: I am nice. I’m bringing him shots. That’s nice.

Isabelle: That’s dangerous. Try not to start a bar fight.

Max: Promise. Love you. 

[Monday, Much, Much Later]

Max: BELLE

Max: U R SO PRETTY

Max: LIKE. ACTUALLY. PRETTY PRETTY

Max: U should be here u’d hate it but like also u’d look SO HOT in this lighting

Max: lando said i’m soft now bc i said ur voice is my favorite sound so i punched him in the arm

Max: soft???? bro i’m in love what does he want me to do. deny it???

Max: anyway ur eyes r the best part of monaco u can quote me

Max: i miss u

[Much, Much Later]

Isabelle: Good morning, poetic disaster 💋 How’s the head?

Max: 🥲 Loud. Everything is loud. Why does my soul feel hungover.

Isabelle: Probably because you told me my eyes were the best part of Monaco and then threatened to fight Lando for calling you soft.

Max: …Did I actually type that?

Belle: Verbatim. You also called me “pretty pretty” and claimed I’d look “SO HOT in this lighting.” Capitals included.

Max: I hate myself

Isabelle: Don’t. It was very charming. Drunk and feral, but charming.

Isabelle: You did tell me my voice was your favorite sound.

Max: Okay that one stands. I mean it.

Isabelle: I know you do. Still going to make you suffer for the rest though.

Max: I was vulnerable. Weak. In my tequila era.

Isabelle: You were in love and dramatic. It was kind of perfect.

Max: You still love me?

Isabelle: Soft bro, I’m in love. What do you want me to do, deny it?

Max: 😤 Uncalled for.

Isabelle: Call me when you’re functional. 

Max: You’re too good to me.

Isabelle: I know. I’m Monaco’s best feature, after all.

Max: Can confirm. ***

Text Messages: Emilie Abadie & Isabelle Leclerc

Emilie: Okay so… Question

Isabelle: That’s always a dangerous start.

Emilie: Who is this Lando person And why is everyone crying because he won something

Isabelle: Oh my God. You really don’t know anything about F1, do you?

Emilie: Absolutely not. I know Max drives fast, and you’re too pretty to be emotionally stable, that’s it.

Isabelle: Valid.

Emilie: But seriously. My entire timeline is full of sweaty orange hats and people screaming “HE FINALLY DID IT.” What did he do? Did he climb a mountain? Invent a vaccine?

Isabelle: He won his first Formula 1 Grand Prix. He’s been in F1 for five years. Always came close. Never quite made it.Everyone’s been waiting for this.He’s a good guy. Deserved it.

Emilie: Huh. He’s the guy with the curly hair, right?

Isabelle: Yes.

Emilie: And the jawbones?

Isabelle: Yes.

Emilie: And the voice that’s suspiciously hot for someone named Lando?

Isabelle: …Why do you care?

Emilie: I don’t!!

Isabelle: You do. You’ve never asked me about a single driver. Not once. And now you’re googling him like a concerned historian.

Emilie: I’m just… doing research. You know. investigating the cultural phenomenon

Isabelle: Uh-huh. Is this cultural phenomenon wearing a papaya-colored race suit and has curly hair?

Emilie: Fine. He’s cute. He looked happy. The bar is so low.

Isabelle: He is cute. And he should be happy. He’s a good guy.

Emilie: You sound like you’re trying to sell me a family dog.

Isabelle: He’s very sweet! Loyal! Thoughtful! Max calls him chaotic sunshine. I call him emotionally transparent. You’d like him.

Emilie: So a golden retriever.

Isabelle: With slightly better hair.

Emilie: Does he bite?

Isabelle: Only when provoked. Or when Max makes a joke about his height.

Emilie: Hmm.

Isabelle: Oh no.

Emilie: What?

Isabelle: You’re thinking about him.

Emilie: Absolutely not.

Emilie: This is slander.

Isabelle: This is me knowing you better than you know yourself. And I’m telling you: he’s a good one. A little chaotic. But real.

Emilie: He smiled like…like he waited years for this. I noticed that. I hate that I noticed that.

Belle: Yeah. That’s why people cried. It wasn’t just about the win—it was about him. He needed it. And he earned it.

Emilie: …Okay maybe I get the hats now.

Isabelle: Give it three days. You’ll be watching fan edits on TikTok and pretending it’s research. I have been there. 

***

Belle had done what she said she would do—and no more.

She’d ordered the cake. She’d picked up her mother’s favorite flowers that morning: cream roses and blue hydrangeas, wrapped in soft white paper. She’d even arrived early to set them on the table herself, with care, because that was the kind of daughter she was. Or used to be.

Now, she was the kind of daughter who kept her word but stopped letting herself be steamrolled.

Pascale arrived right on time, kissed Belle on both cheeks, and immediately gave the restaurant a once-over.

“This place wasn’t my first choice.”

Belle smiled tightly. “Arthur booked it.”

“Ah. Well.” Her mother’s eyes skimmed the mirrored walls, the packed tables. “At least it’s… clean.”

Belle gestured to the bouquet from all of them, and the beautifully chosen gift bag she had chosen for her gift to her mother. It was a hand painted silk scarf from her mother’s favourite small boutique in Nice.  “Happy birthday, Maman.”

“Oh, thank you, darling.” Pascale barely glanced at them. “How thoughtful. Did you and the boys coordinate?”

“No,” Belle said evenly. “They’re doing their own gifts this year.”

Pascale’s brow twitched. “Oh?”

“I told them weeks ago.”

“Hm.” She lifted the bag without really looking at it. “Just from you?”

“Yes. Just me.”

The rest arrived five to ten minutes late, as if they’d all agreed to stagger themselves and then forgot the timing. Arthur looked panicked, Charles like he was trying too hard not to look panicked, and Lorenzo came with Charlotte in tow, who smiled politely and looked like she already regretted it. Alexandra walked in beside Charles and kissed Pascale on the cheek like a diplomat entering a war zone.

“Happy birthday, Pascale” Alexandra said. “You look wonderful.”

Pascale’s smile returned. “Merci, cherie. You always say the right things.”

“Unlike your sons,” Charlotte muttered under her breath, loud enough for Belle to hear.

Charles sat beside Belle and leaned toward her. “So… I take it the restaurant’s not a hit.”

Belle didn’t even glance at him. “What gave it away? The menu or Maman’s expression?”

As the waiter listed off the specials—every one of them garnished with fennel—Belle watched her mother’s face tighten.

“I thought I said last year I hated fennel,” Pascale said lightly.

Arthur mumbled, “It was the only place with a table.”

Charlotte’s voice was gentle. “It’s a beautiful spot though.”

“Yes,” Pascale said with a tilt of her head. “But not terribly thoughtful. I would’ve preferred a nice picnic at home,” Pascale muttered, opening her menu as though it had personally offended her.

Belle stayed quiet. She wasn’t the one who chose this.

Though the one thing she agreed with: Even the wine tasted horrific in this restaurant. She pushed her white wine glass far away from her, the acidic smell hitting her nose and making her want to scrunch her nose. 

The gifts came next. Or rather, the lack of them.

Arthur had hastily shoved a gift bag onto the table with the receipt still inside. Lorenzo offered wine. 

And Charles? Charles offered nothing but a vague “It’s arriving later, it’s like... experiential.”

“Experiential?” Pascale repeated, arching a brow.

“It’s a class,” Charles added quickly. “Pottery.”

Their mother stared at him like he had sprouted wings. 

“Pottery?!” Pascale asked and Charles swallowed, nodding, looking like he was regretting all his life choices. 

Belle didn’t look up, but Alexandra choked into her water and muttered, “I told you.”

Belle sipped her water.

“Oh,” Pascale continued, “and what’s this?” She picked up the card. “Just from you, Isabelle?”

“Yes,” Belle said simply.

“No group gift this year?”

“I asked everyone to handle their own,” she replied. “I did the flowers and the cake. And the card. That was enough.”

Pascale gave a little hum of amusement. “Well, I suppose you have become very independent lately.”

Belle met her mother’s gaze. “I’m not sure that’s a bad thing.”

“No, no, of course not,” Pascale said, voice breezy. “It’s just… you used to take such pride in pulling everything together. You were always so good at it.”

“That was the problem.”

Arthur cleared his throat. “To be fair, you didn’t exactly help us this year.”

“I told you what I was doing. You just didn’t listen,” Belle said calmly.

“You used to remind us,” Charles mumbled. “You used to care.”

Belle’s jaw twitched. “I still care. I just don’t want to be treated like the family secretary anymore.”

“I think she misses being in control,” Lorenzo muttered, just loud enough to be heard.

Charlotte glanced at him, sharp. “Or maybe she’s just tired of being taken advantage of.”

“Exactly,” Alexandra said. “God forbid she set a boundary.”

Pascale, still smiling, turned to Belle. “Cherie, no one’s saying you have to do everything. It’s just… you’re so capable. When you stop doing it, everything falls apart.”

“Maybe that means everyone else should step up,” Belle replied.

Pascale gave a laugh that sounded delicate and dismissive all at once. “Well, clearly no one stepped up today.”

She said it like a joke. Like a shrug. Like it wasn’t her sons who had forgotten, scrambled, improvised. Like it was somehow Belle’s fault for letting them fail.

Belle felt the burn in her chest—not anger, not really. Just exhaustion.

She’d done her part. More than her part. But it would never be enough, because the moment she stopped doing everything, the blame quietly shifted to her.

“You could’ve reminded them,” Pascale said again, softer now. “You know how your brothers are.”

“Yes,” Belle said. “I do.”

“Well,” she said lightly. “I suppose this is what adulthood looks like. Everyone suddenly too busy to remember their mother.”

“I remembered,” Belle said.

“You always do, darling. It’s just that this year… you remembered differently.”

And there it was.

Not cruelty. Not even anger.

Just the kind of soft-edged disappointment Belle had spent most of her life trying to avoid.

The rest of lunch passed in half-hearted conversation and clumsy attempts at jokes. The cake arrived—beautiful, perfect, and, predictably, unacknowledged.

Belle watched her brothers clap, watched her mother blow out the candles, watched it all carry on like nothing had happened.

Like she hadn’t just been told—kindly, sweetly, carelessly—that she was the glue, and glue isn’t allowed to come undone.

Alexandra leaned closer, her voice low. “You okay?”

Belle forced a smile. “I will be.”

As they all stood to leave, Pascale leaned in and kissed her cheek again.

“Next year, maybe we go back to the usual way. Less… disjointed.”

Belle didn’t answer.

Because she wasn’t sure the old way would ever return.

And maybe, just maybe, that was the point.

***

Text Messages: Isabelle Leclerc & Emilie Abadie

Isabelle: I survived.

Emilie: Emotionally or just physically?

Isabelle: ...Barely both.

Emilie: How bad?

Isabelle: Let’s just say the cake was perfect and no one noticed. Arthur brought a gift bag with the receipt still inside. Charles gave her a pottery class. A POTTERY CLASS. And Lorenzo recycled a bottle of wine she gave him last year.

Emilie: I’m sorry. Did they try to offer her used wrapping paper too?

Isabelle: Honestly wouldn’t have been surprised. She looked at the card—my card—and asked if it was just from me. Then she said everyone was too busy to remember their mother. I reminded her that I remembered. She said: “You always do, darling. It’s just that this year… you remembered differently.”

Emilie: … Wow. Soft weaponized guilt in its final form.

Isabelle: I’m so tired. I did what I said I would. Flowers. Cake. My own gift. I set boundaries. And it still felt like it was my fault everything else fell apart.

Emilie: That’s because it isn’t about the gifts. It’s about control. You stopped doing everything, and instead of realizing they need to grow up, they decided you were the problem.

Isabelle: She said things “fell apart” because I stopped doing it all. Like it was inevitable.

Emilie: Because no one in your family wants to believe they’re part of the problem. It’s easier to blame the glue than to learn how to hold things together.

Isabelle: I didn’t cry. I thought I would. But I didn’t.

Emilie: That’s not because it didn’t hurt. It’s because you’re exhausted from caring so hard for so long. And you knew exactly how today would go.

Isabelle: Yeah.

Emilie: I’m proud of you, by the way.

Isabelle: For what? Ruining lunch?

Emilie: No. For not letting them pull you back in. You didn’t break your boundary. You kept your head high. You even brought the right cake like a damn queen.

Isabelle: I don’t feel like a queen. I feel like… a disappointed intern who can’t quit because the office is run by her family.

Emilie: Then consider this your resignation letter. Effective immediately. From now on, you only show up to enjoy the cake—not to organize the entire damn bakery.

***

The apartment was unusually quiet.

Max pushed the door open slowly, balancing a paper bag in one hand—her favorite pastries from that little place by the port—and shut the door behind him with a soft click.

“Belle?” he called.

No answer.

He kicked off his shoes and padded through the hallway. Her shoes were by the door, her bag hanging from the hook. She was home. But the lights were still off, the curtains half-drawn.

He stepped into the living room, expecting to find her reading or curled up with her laptop.

Instead, he found her asleep on the couch.

Belle never napped. She was the kind of person who filled silence with tasks, who felt guilty if she rested too long. Her idea of downtime usually involved organizing something or researching a new fabric for a client.

But now?

Now she was curled up in the corner of the couch, one arm tucked under her cheek, her breathing slow and steady. She’d kicked off her heels, and one strap of her dress had slipped slightly down her shoulder. Her brow was furrowed, even in sleep.

And all three cats were piled on top of her.

Jimmy was sprawled across her legs, completely dead weight. Lilly was curled protectively against her stomach, one paw gently resting on her arm. And Sassy—who rarely let anyone touch her—was nestled against her neck, purring like a motor.

Max smiled softly.

The cats knew. Of course they did.

He moved quietly, setting the bag of pastries down on the counter and crouching beside the couch. He didn’t wake her. He just watched her for a moment—her lashes dark against her cheeks, the faint smudge of exhaustion still lingering under her eyes. There was something heartbreakingly small about the way she’d folded in on herself. Like she’d tried to make herself take up less space.

He reached out and gently brushed her hair back behind her ear.

Belle stirred, but didn’t wake. Lilly opened one eye, flicked her tail, and went back to purring.

Max exhaled and whispered, “I’m sorry it was shit.”

She didn’t need to tell him. He’d seen the signs before she left: the tight smile, the perfectly chosen scarf, the way she’d stood just a little too straight. He knew Pascale. He knew her brothers. And he knew the weight Belle carried when they made her feel invisible for having a spine.

He reached for the blanket draped over the back of the couch and pulled it over her gently, tucking it in around the cats. Jimmy let out a tiny grunt but didn’t move.

Max kissed her temple. Light. Barely there.

“I’ve got you,” he murmured.

He sat on the floor beside her, leaning against the couch, and let his hand rest on hers, careful not to disturb the cats. She shifted slightly, her fingers curling instinctively into his.

The apartment stayed quiet, but now it felt full. Safe.

Eventually, Belle would wake up. Eventually, she’d downplay it all, say she was fine, say it wasn’t that bad.

But Max would remember the way she napped in the middle of the day like her body had finally crashed, like she’d had to hold herself together for too long.

***

She woke up slowly.

There was warmth on her legs. Something heavy on her chest. A light pressure on her hand.

For a moment, she didn’t move—just let herself feel the quiet. The absence of expectations. The strange relief of not having to speak.

Then she blinked and registered the familiar weight of Jimmy on her thighs, Lilly tucked into her side, and—

Sassy. On her shoulder. Sassy, who hated everyone except Max and her. 

She turned her head slightly and saw Max sitting on the floor beside the couch, head tilted back against the cushion, his fingers still laced with hers. His thumb stroked over her knuckles slowly, rhythmically, like he’d been doing it the whole time she slept.

“How long have you been there?” she whispered.

His eyes opened. “Long enough to be offended none of the cats chose me.”

Belle gave a weak, sleepy laugh. “You didn’t bring treats.”

“I brought toys last week. I feel that earns me some credit.”

She stretched, only a little, careful not to disturb the cats. Her throat tightened unexpectedly. She looked down at their hands. Her voice was quiet when she said, “It was awful.”

Max didn’t respond right away. He waited.

“I knew it would be,” she continued. “I was ready for it. I thought I was. But—” She paused. “It still got to me.”

“Of course it did,” he said gently. “Because you’re not made of stone, no matter how good you are at pretending.”

She swallowed. “She didn’t yell. None of them did. That’s the worst part. Just these… little jabs. Like I ruined things by not doing what I always do.”

He brushed his thumb along the back of her hand again. “Because they don’t want to admit how much they rely on you. It’s easier to pretend you’re being difficult than to admit they’ve taken you for granted.”

“I felt like the villain for saying no.”

“You weren’t,” he said firmly. “You were the only one who showed up the way she deserved.”

“She said I remembered differently.”

“You remembered honestly,” Max said. “And with boundaries. That’s a good thing.”

Belle exhaled slowly. “I hate how tired I am.”

“That’s what happens when you carry everyone else’s expectations for fifteen years.”

She closed her eyes. “I just wanted her to notice. Not the card. Not the scarf. Me.”

Max was silent for a long beat. Then he shifted, stood, and gently sat on the edge of the couch beside her, nudging Jimmy out of the way with minimal protest.

“You know what I noticed?” he asked softly.

Belle looked up at him.

“You walked into that lunch knowing it would suck. You still brought the cake. You still picked out the flowers and got there early and remembered everything that matters. But you also stood your ground. You didn’t shrink. You didn’t apologize for having limits.”

She blinked fast.

Max reached up and brushed a strand of hair from her face.

“You didn’t fail them, Belle. They failed you. And she—she missed the point. But I didn’t.”

She let out a breath that trembled more than she wanted.

Belle reached for him then—slowly, tiredly—and he leaned down so she could rest her forehead against his chest. His arms came around her without hesitation, strong and warm and steady.

And for the first time all day, Belle didn’t feel like she had to hold anything together.

***

Text Messages: Max Verstappen & Emilie Abadie

Max: The horse is here.

Emilie: WAIT WHAT???

Max: She’s perfect. Big eyes. Very soft nose. Looks at me like she knows I have no idea what I’m doing.

Emilie: Oh my god. Congrats! You now own 1.5 sentient drama llamas! I didn’t think you’d pull it off this fast!!

Max: Neither did I. I just nodded and wired the money whenever someone looked at me confused.

Emilie: Bold of you to admit that. How’s Fleur settling in?

Max: Good so far. The stable manager is in love with her. She’s very sweet…very gentle. But listen—can you help me with something?

Emilie: That depends. Do I need a forklift?

Max: No forklifts. But maybe a… horse stylist?

Emilie: ...Max.

Max: I want to get her everything she needs. Feed, brushes, gear, blankets, treats, toys, whatever. But I don’t trust myself not to forget something vital and end up buying her a dog collar by mistake.

Emilie: You think a grooming kit is the same thing as a dog leash???

Max: I bought a horse off emotional impulse, Emilie. Anything’s possible.

Emilie: Fair. Okay. Emergency horse wardrobe coming right up.

Max: You’re a lifesaver.

Emilie: I know. What’s the budget?

Max: No budget.

Emilie: …Max.

Max: Buy her the kind of things you’d buy if you were spoiling a horse for someone you love. Go full chaos. Embroidered halter, custom saddle pads. I don’t care.

Emilie: You just said the words “go full chaos” to me. You realize this is going to spiral.

Max: If the horse ends up with a Swarovski encrusted hoof pick, that’s a risk I’m willing to take.

Emilie: I’m making a list. She needs turnout rugs. Stable rugs. Lightweight blankets. Fly masks. Brushing boots. Halter. Lead rope. Hay net. Saddle pad. Grooming kit. Oh—and a personalized nameplate. Obviously.

Max: I’m overwhelmed.

Emilie: I haven’t even started color coordination yet.

Max: Color coordination???

Emilie: You think I’m putting Belle’s horse in random mismatched gear like some common gelding??

Max: …No?

Emilie: Good answer.

Max: Make her look like she belongs to someone who loves her.

Emilie: That’s easy. She does.

Max: Also... get something for the foal too. It’s still baking, but I want it to have everything once it shows up.

Emilie: You're going to be the most unhinged horse dad in the south of France.

Max: That’s the goal.

Emilie: Okay. I’ll drop everything and build Fleur’s shopping cart of dreams. Expect a delivery van full of horse nonsense by tomorrow.

Max: Thank you. Seriously. I just want everything to be perfect.

Emilie: It will be. She’s going to lose it. In the best way.

Max: That’s the plan.

***

Text Messages: Max Verstappen & Lando Norris

Max: Hey. You know about horses, right?

Lando: … Why would I know about horses?

Max: Because your sister and your mum ride. That makes you, like… horse adjacent.

Lando: Max. MAX. Being horse adjacent is not the same as being a horse expert.

Max: Do you know how to tell if a pregnant horse is okay?

Lando: MAX WHAT

Max: I got Belle a horse. Actually two. Well, one horse, and she’s pregnant, so technically 1.5 horses.

Lando: I’m sorry back up- You WHAT? YOU BOUGHT A PREGNANT HORSE???

Max: Yes. For her birthday. It’s the foal of her childhood horse. The horse passed away, but the daughter is alive. So I bought her. Fleur. That’s her name.

Lando: Jesus Christ.

Max: She’s perfect. But she’s in foal and due later this summer and now I’m spiraling.

Lando: Okay okay okay. Deep breaths. Why are you spiraling??

Max: Is it normal for her to not eat as much hay? She was eating like crazy when she arrived and now she’s just… slower. Max:  She seems fine. She’s drinking. She let me pet her today. Max:  But what if she’s not fine and I miss something and the foal is in danger and Belle gets attached and then—

Lando: MAX

Max: WHAT IF I’M A BAD HORSE DAD

Lando: Okay first of all: You are very much not a horse dad. You are a stressed boyfriend with access to wire transfers and too much emotional capacity

Max: Unhelpful.

Lando: Second: Flo and my mum both ride. Hang on, I’ll ask.

(Two minutes pass.)

Lando: Okay. Flo says: “Mares get weird when they’re in late pregnancy. Appetite changes, temperament shifts, they get clingy or distant. As long as she’s drinking water and not acting colicky or in pain, she’s probably fine.”

Max: What does colicky mean?

Lando: Horse tummy ache apparently. Signs: pawing at the ground, lying down and getting up a lot, rolling on her side, not passing gas or poop.

Max: She’s not doing any of that.

Lando: Cool. Then Flo says you can stop freaking out and maybe go touch grass.

Max: I would but I’m watching her through the stall window to make sure she blinks evenly.

Lando: You need a hobby.

Max: This is my hobby now. I’m going to be the best horse dad Monaco’s ever seen.

Lando: You’re terrifying. Flo says you should talk to a vet if you’re this stressed. There are equine pregnancy specialists.

Max: I already booked one. They’re coming Thursday. And I bought her a new salt lick. And a bigger water bucket. And more bedding. Just in case she’s nesting.

Lando: Nest??? You think she’s a raccoon now???

Max: SHE’S CARRYING A TINY HORSE INSIDE HER I DON’T KNOW WHAT SHE NEEDS

Lando: Okay wow. This is actually incredible You’re losing your mind and it’s so pure

Max: She’s not just a horse. She’s Belle’s horse. She’s family now. And her foal will be, too

Lando: Max Verstappen, 3x World Champion, is scared of a pregnant horse.

Max: You don’t understand. If anything happens to that horse, Belle will never recover. And I’ll never forgive myself.

Lando: Okay, I’m texting Flo again. You need like. A Horse Dad Hotline. She’s gonna make a guide. Expect a PDF.

Max: Perfect. I’ll print it. And laminate it.

Lando: You’re completely unhinged and I love it. Belle has no idea what she’s in for, does she?

Max: Nope. But I do. And I’m not screwing this up.

***

Group Chat: HELP ME

 (Members: Daniel Ricciardo, Lando Norris, Oscar Piastri, Lewis Hamilton, Carlos Sainz Jr., George Russell, Alex Albon, Nico Hulkenberg, Nico Rosberg, Sebastian Vettel, Mark Webber, David Coulthard, Sergio Pérez, Fernando Alonso and Kimi Räikkönen)

Lando: UPDATE. Max has officially entered his next evolutionary stage: Horse Dad

Carlos: what???

George: what do you mean Horse Dad.

Lando: HE TEXTED ME FOR HORSE ADVICE. Apparently  he bought Belle a horse for her birthday next week…and said horse is pregnant. AND NOW HE’S SPIRALING.

Oscar: he bought her a pregnant horse???

Lewis: This man does not know how to do things at 50%.

Alex: Imagine being an unborn foal and your literal horse granddad is Max Verstappen.

Daniel: What was he panicking about ?

Lando: "Is it normal for her to eat less hay?" "She blinked too slowly." "Am I a bad horse dad." "I think she’s nesting." "I bought her a new salt lick just in case."

Oscar: nesting?? she’s a horse not a squirrel??

Sebastian: This is beautiful. I love this for him. And for the horse.

Checo: Didn’t he just buy this horse last week???

Lando: YEP. And he’s already at the stage of “watching her breathe through the stall window like a Victorian widow.”

David: I’m crying. Verstappen, World Champion, afraid of pregnant mare.

Checo: He deserves this stress. This is what happens when you spend 300k on a pregnant horse with no clue what you’re doing.

Mark: That foal is going to be raised like equine royalty.

Fernando: It will be a champion. I can feel it.

Alex: Do NOT let Max hear that. He’ll start building it a trophy shelf.

George: How did we get here

Lando: Anyway I told Flo and my mum and now they’re making him a Horse Dad PDF Guide

Alex: Max Verstappen: Race car driver, emotionally fragile boyfriend, horse dad with laminated charts.

Nico H: I’ve never been more afraid of him

Oscar: I just want to see Belle’s face when she finds out

Lewis: She's going to cry

 And then thank him And then cry again And then probably cry on the horse

Lando: And Max will cry because she’s crying. And the horse will just blink slowly like “why are the loud mammals leaking”

Oscar: i love love.

Fernando: We are watching the evolution of a man.

Daniel: Max Verstappen used to destroy the grid. Now he panics about hay consumption

Sebastian: This is growth.

Sebastian: Should we all send baby gifts for the foal?

Lewis: You mean we’re not already?

Fernando: I have already arranged a custom halter and embroidered blanket.

***

Text Messages: Lando Norris & Oscar Piastri

Lando: Okay this might be a stupid question

Oscar: Those are your specialty, go on

Lando: Should we get Belle a birthday gift?

Oscar: Like… us? Together??

Lando: Yeah. Like a joint thing. I don’t know. A friend gift. A “we know your family’s exhausting but we like you” gift.

Oscar: Honestly? I like it. She deserves it. Especially after Max went full Horse Dad™

Lando: Right?? Like, I’m not trying to compete with two horses but like… a little gift?

Oscar: Yeah, yeah. Something thoughtful. Wait—hang on. Lily’s reading this over my shoulder now.

Lily (via Oscar): YES. GET HER SOMETHING. I LOVE HER.

Lando: I mean that tracks. Everyone who meets Belle ends up weirdly attached.

Oscar: Max didn’t even stand a chance

Lily (still hijacking): Ask your sister for horse-related gift ideas!!!

Lando: You mean Flo?

Oscar: Yeah, Lily says she’ll know what would be good for a new horse owner or something cute Belle can use at the stable.

Lily (via Oscar):  Or something for the baby horse!!! They imprint, right??? GET THE FOAL TO IMPRINT ON YOU GUYS.

Lando: I don’t think we can plan imprinting, Lily.

Oscar: She says that sounds like quitter energy.

Lando: Okay but seriously I will text Flo.

Oscar: We could do like… a fancy grooming kit?

Lando: Or like a custom halter for the foal? 

Oscar: That’s actually so cute. What if we get it in Max’s helmet colors?

Lando: STOP I’M EMOTIONAL

Oscar: Lily is now googling “tiny horse birthday hats” so things are escalating. 

Lando: Belle gets Max, two horses, and emotional support F1 drivers

Oscar: Our love language is semi-coordinated panic

Lando: Okay. I’ll ask Flo for ideas. Lily can continue the hat research.

Oscar: She’s already measuring things on the screen. I think we’re locked in.

***

Belle closed her laptop with a soft sigh, the click of the hinge sounding louder than it should’ve. The apartment was calm—Max behind her, drying dishes from dinner—but inside her head, everything felt overfull.

She crossed to the counter, reached for a glass, and filled it slowly at the sink. Her shoulders ached. Her chest felt tight. Not in a dramatic way—just… tired. The kind of tired that curled up somewhere inside and stayed, no matter how many hours of sleep she got.

Max’s voice was gentle, behind her. “You okay?”

She nodded before answering. “I ordered something for Mother’s Day.”

He turned from the cupboard, brow raised. “For your mother?”

Belle hesitated, and that was enough for him to catch it.

“Yes,” she said, carefully. “For Maman. From all of us.”

There was a pause. She could feel his eyes on her even as she kept hers on the water glass.

“From you and your brothers?” Max asked quietly.

Belle nodded again. “Yeah.”

Another pause.

When she glanced back, Max was just watching her. Not angry. Not judgmental. Just… knowing.

“You’re still saving them,” he said.

Belle straightened slightly. “I’m not.”

“You are.”

“I’m not,” she repeated, too fast. “I just… I don’t want another disaster. I don’t have the energy for more awkwardness or guilt. I just want it to be done. Clean.”

“You’re the only reason it won’t be a disaster,” Max said softly.

Belle looked down at the water glass. Her hand was trembling slightly. She hadn’t realized.

“I’m just so tired, Max,” she said, and the words came out smaller than she meant them to. Like admitting it made her feel even more fragile.

Max stepped toward her and touched her wrist, grounding her.

“Then why spend what little energy you have on something that only drains you more?”

“Because if I don’t,” she whispered, “Maman will be disappointed. And my brothers will make jokes. And the silence will feel like blame. It’s easier this way.”

“It’s not easier,” Max said. “It’s just more familiar.”

Belle didn’t answer. Her throat felt tight.

Max pulled her gently into his arms, wrapping her in the kind of hug that made everything quiet for a second. Belle leaned into it like someone letting go of something heavy she hadn’t realized she’d been carrying.

“You don’t have to fix everything to be a good daughter,” he murmured into her hair. “Or a good sister.”

She closed her eyes.

“Don’t remind them,” he added, quietly but firmly.

She pulled back slightly to look up at him. “What?”

“Don’t message the group chat. Don’t nudge them. Don’t drop hints. Let them forget. Let them feel what it’s like when you don’t carry it for them.”

She looked up at him, wide-eyed. “They’ll blame me.”

“Then let them,” Max said, brushing her hair back from her face. “You don’t owe them your peace.”

“I don’t know if I can ignore it,” she whispered. “It’ll just sit there in my chest like a rock. The whole day.”

“Then I’ll carry it,” he said. “Let me carry it for you.”

Belle’s eyes burned.

“Maybe next year,” she said softly. “Maybe next year I’ll be strong enough not to do it at all.”

Max didn’t push. He just nodded, kissed her temple, and held her tighter.

She didn’t have to say thank you. He already knew.

***

Text Messages: Max Verstappen & Sophie Kumpen

Max: Happy Mother’s Day, Mama ❤️ Hope you’re relaxing this morning.

Sophie: Thank you, sweetheart 💕 Just had breakfast with Tom & Victoria. Luka made me a card 🥹

Max: He’s a better artist than me already 😂 Your gift should’ve arrived by now. Did it get there?

Sophie: Yes! Just opened it ☺️You didn’t have to get me anything 😌

Max: Yeah, but you deserve it. Spa weekend for you and Vic—Belle helped me pick it. She remembered you mentioned it in passing once.

Sophie: Wait, the place in Provence? With the mineral baths?

Max: That’s the one. Belle remembered the name and everything. She’s… kinda incredible at that.

Sophie: Belle remembered that from months ago?

Max: She remembers everything. She’s scary-good at it.

Sophie:She really is the sweetest. You should’ve booked for three. Belle should come with us.

Max: I suggested it. She said she didn’t want to intrude.

Sophie: She would say that 😤 Tell her I’m demanding she join. It’s non-negotiable.

Max: …You sure? You and Vic don’t want a mother-daughter trip?

Sophie: She is like a daughter to me, Max. And Victoria loves her. You know that.

Max: Okay, okay. I’ll tell her.

Sophie:  I’m adore her. She fits. Like she’s always been here.

Max: Yeah. Feels like that to me too.

Sophie: So bring her over soon. I want to give her a proper hug for this gift. And for looking after you.

Max: I’ll try to drag her away from the horses. 

Sophie: Of course she is. Tell her thank you from me. Truly.

Max: Will do ❤️ Love you.

Sophie: Love you too, Maxie. ***

Text Messages: Charles Leclerc & Alexandra Saint Mleux

Charles: Merde. Is it Mother’s Day today???

Alexandra: Yes.

Charles: No one said anything?! Isabelle didn’t remind us this year. She always reminds us.

Alexandra: She’s not your personal assistant, Charles.

Charles: But she knows I forget stuff like this. She usually sends the group chat the schedule with reminders and emoji codes and—

Alexandra: She shouldn’t have to. You’re almost thirty. You should know when Mother’s Day is without your sister hand-holding you through it.

Charles: Okay, but she always does it. And this year she suddenly decides she’s “setting boundaries” and just lets me walk off a cliff??

Alexandra: You forgot your mother. That’s on you. Don’t you dare try to make it Isabelle’s fault because she finally decided to stop mothering you.

Charles: Wow. Okay. Didn’t realize you were on her side.

Alexandra: I’m not “taking sides.” I’m telling you that blaming your sister for your failure is weak. And unfair.

Charles: I’m stressed, okay? I forgot, I feel like crap, and now you’re yelling at me.

Alexandra: No. I’m calling you out because this isn’t the first time you’ve pulled this. The second something goes wrong, you look for someone else to blame.

Charles: That’s not fair.

Alexandra: Isn’t it? Last month it was your trainer’s fault for not updating your calendar. Before that, it was your PR team for not reminding you about a shoot. Now it’s your sister for not telling you Mother’s Day was coming?

Charles: I just didn’t expect this from you.

Alexandra: You mean honesty? Accountability?

Charles: I don’t need a lecture right now.

Alexandra: Maybe not. But you need to grow up.

Charles: Are you seriously turning this into a moral crisis?

Alexandra: You forgot Mother’s Day. You blamed the one person who used to quietly make sure you didn’t screw it up. And when I told you the truth, you made me the problem too.

Charles: Alex…

Alexandra: I love you, but I’m not going to pretend this version of you isn’t exhausting sometimes. Figure it out, Charles.

Charles: Wait—are you seriously mad enough to—

Alexandra: I’m not leaving. But I’m done coddling you.

Charles: ...Okay.

Alexandra: Start with a phone call to your mother.

Charles: Yeah. Okay.

***

Leclerc Sibling Group Chat

 (Members: Arthur, Isabelle, Charles, and Lorenzo)

Charles: So… today’s Mother’s Day.

Arthur: Yeah. Not that anyone would’ve remembered.

Lorenzo: Would’ve been nice to get a heads-up this year.

Arthur: Right? A little calendar emoji would’ve gone a long way.

Charles: You always used to remind us, Isabelle.

Lorenzo: Kind of your thing.

Isabelle: I’m not doing that anymore.

Charles: We noticed.

Arthur: You could’ve at least said something.

Isabelle: I did. Before Maman’s birthday. I said I wasn’t organizing family events anymore. I meant it.

Lorenzo: Yeah, but Mother’s Day’s different.

Charles: It’s not like we’re asking you to do everything. Just a reminder. One message.

Arthur: Instead we’re all waking up to guilt and no plan.

Isabelle: Then maybe next year, plan ahead. Put it in your phones like everyone else.

Lorenzo: You didn’t even mention it once this week.

Isabelle: Because it’s not my job.

Charles: You used to care about this kind of thing.

Isabelle: I still care. I just care about my own mental health too.

Arthur: So what, we just look like idiots today?

Isabelle: I sent a gift from all of us. Card, flowers, everything.

Charles: Wait… seriously?

Isabelle: Yes.

Lorenzo: You didn’t tell us.

Isabelle: I just did it because I didn’t want her to feel forgotten.

Arthur: That’s kind of manipulative, Belle. Doing it and not telling us.

Isabelle: What’s manipulative is expecting me to do everything, and then blaming me when I don’t.

Charles: You’re really different lately.

Isabelle: I’m tired. So I handled it, one last time. You’re welcome.

Lorenzo: Well. Thanks, I guess.

Arthur: Next year maybe give us a little warning?

***

Leclerc Family Group Chat

(Members: Arthur, Isabelle, Charles, Lorenzo and Pascale)

Pascale: My darlings ❤️ Thank you so much for the beautiful flowers and the card. They arrived this morning and made me cry (in the best way). You always know just what I love. I feel so lucky to have you. 💐✨

Charles: Aw, Maman ❤️ You deserve it!!

Arthur: Glad you liked it 🥹 Happy Mother’s Day!

Lorenzo: Only the best for you, Maman 😘

Pascale: You boys did so well! So thoughtful. And the message in the card… so sweet. Isabelle, you must’ve helped them pick it, didn’t you? It had your touch.

Lorenzo: We definitely had it covered 😌

Charles: Worked as a team.

Arthur: Isabelle deserves the credit though. She’s always the best at that stuff.

Pascale: Well, however you did it—thank you. I feel very loved. The flowers were perfect. Isabelle: Glad you liked them, Maman. Happy Mother’s Day.

Pascale: Love you all. 💕

***

Text Messages: Max Verstappen & Emilie Abadie

Max: She sent the Mother’s Day gift from all of them.

Emilie: Of course she did. Let me guess: they acted surprised and then took credit?

Max: Yep. Pascale sent a thank-you in the group chat. Her brothers responded like they’d done something.

Emilie: I’m going to scream into a pillow.

Max: Belle didn’t say anything. Just said she was glad Pascale liked it.

Emilie: She’s still saving them.

Max: I know. And they still don’t see it.

Emilie: They don’t want to. It’s easier to let her carry it all and pretend that’s normal.

Max: She told them she wasn’t going to be the family secretary anymore. Then she quietly handled everything anyway. Because she knew they’d drop it. And she didn’t want Pascale to feel forgotten.

Emilie: That’s the curse of being the responsible one. You’re punished whether you do it or not.

Max: Exactly. And now they’ll just expect it again next year.

Emilie: She deserves better.

Max: I keep telling her that.

Emilie: It’s not just about hearing it. She has to believe it. And she doesn’t. Not deep down.

Max: Yeah. I know.

Emilie: How is she?

Max: Quiet. Too quiet. She’s not upset, exactly—just… hollow. Like it’s easier to feel nothing than admit she’s hurt.

Emilie: I hate that I know exactly what that looks like on her.

Max: She just sat down after lunch and said, “It’s done now. I don’t want to talk about it.”

Emilie: That’s Belle for “I’m hanging on by a thread but don’t want to be a burden.”

Max: I wanted to say something. Call them out for her. But she just looked so tired.

Emilie: You’re doing more for her by holding her right now than anything they’ve ever done.

Max: I still wish I could do more.

Emilie: You do more just by noticing. By seeing her.

Max: I don’t want her to keep being the one who holds everything together.

Emilie: Then be the one who holds her together. That’s what she needs. Someone who won’t let her feel invisible.

Max: Yeah. That I can do.

Emilie: Good. Because I swear, if I see another “thanks for the flowers, guys!” message in that family group chat, I’m throwing someone into the harbor.

Max: I’ll drive the boat.

***

The water was warm from the sun, the sky a perfect, cloudless blue, and the city below hummed with distant life—Monaco moving through another glittering afternoon like it always did.

Max floated lazily on his back, eyes closed, one hand trailing through the water, while Belle sat on the pool steps, scowling down at the knot of her bikini top.

She tugged at the strap again, muttering, “This thing is definitely tighter than last time.”

“You said that last week too,” Max murmured without opening his eyes.

“Because it keeps getting tighter.” She frowned down at herself. “Did it shrink in the wash?”

Max cracked one eye open. “You sure it’s the bikini and not you?”

She gave him a look. “Subtle.”

“I’m just saying, maybe the girls are staging a growth spurt.”

Belle rolled her eyes, but her fingers paused against the fabric. They were… sore. More than usual. And she’d been bloated for days. And tired.

It was probably hormones. Or stress. Or the five cookies she’d eaten for lunch.

Max swam closer and rested his arms on the edge of the step beside her, his chin propped lazily against them. “If it’s bothering you, just take it off. No one can see up here.”

She arched an eyebrow. “You wish.”

“I absolutely do,” he said cheerfully.

She flicked water at him and leaned back, letting the sun warm her shoulders. The strap still dug in a little, but she tried to ignore it.

Max let his eyes drift closed again. “This is nice. Quiet. Feels like we’re the only people up here.”

Belle sighed. “We kinda are. You made sure of it, remember? ‘Private rooftop pool, non-negotiable.’”

“Worth every euro.”

She reached out and laced her fingers with his underwater. He gave her hand a gentle squeeze.

After a moment, she said, “You know my birthday’s on Monaco GP weekend this year?”

He groaned softly. “That’s criminal scheduling.”

She smiled faintly. “Right? Sunday. Race day.”

He looked at her. “Do you want to celebrate after the race? I could try to arrange something small—”

“No,” she interrupted, shaking her head. “No pressure. Let’s just do something the day after. Quiet. Just us.”

Max tilted his head. “You sure?”

“Yeah.” She kicked her legs slowly in the water. “Honestly, I don’t care about parties. I just want to sleep in, eat something sweet, and maybe hang out with the horses.”

He grinned. “You want a Belle Day.”

“Exactly.”

“I can deliver a Belle Day,” he said. “I will make an itinerary. I’ll laminate it.”

She laughed, and he leaned forward to kiss the tip of her nose.

“Day after Monaco,” he said. “It’s yours.”

***

Meanwhile on Twitter: 

@/OscarPiastri: Searching my family tree to find any trace of Monégasque roots

@/Charles_Leclerc: I can adopt you if needed. 

@/OscarPiastri: No need, mate — your sister already agreed to!

@/Charles_Leclerc: what

@/F1fanatic91: I’m sorry. WHAT.

@/girlsonpole: charles's WHAT????

@/chaoticprancinghorse: Isabelle Leclerc SAID SHE WOULD ADOPT OSCAR??? excuse me??????

@OscarPiastri (replying to himself a few minutes later): for context: Belle showed me around monaco when i first moved. Gave me the full tour. Taught me where to find the best bakery, the best dry cleaners, and which shortcuts avoid tourists. Basically made it feel like home. honorary monegasque confirmed. (Also later adopted my girlfriend, who I am quite sure, she likes more than me.) 

@/raceweekendchaos: charles offering to adopt oscar like a good pal only for oscar to casually reveal he’s already been adopted by belle leclerc is SENDING me

@/tifositalks: charles: i can adopt you oscar: too late mate your sister said yes charles: error 404 charles.exe has stopped working

@/piastriblues: i have been alive for 21 years and never felt this much secondhand embarrassment for charles leclerc

@/f1fluff:  this is so accidentally wholesome it hurts

@/gridgossip: ISABELLE GAVE OSCAR A WELCOME TO MONACO TOUR??? ARE YOU KIDDING THAT'S SO CUTE

@monacominis:  oscar piastri having isabelle leclerc as a big sister figure is EXACTLY the kind of off-track crossover i live for

@chillycharles: charles was offering adoption papers but isabelle already issued a citizenship through pastries and dry cleaning recs. elite move.

@/Charles_Leclerc (finally replying):  I see I am no longer needed. (Enjoy the bakery recommendations, they are very good.)

@/OscarPiastri: Thanks, mate. You're a great backup option.

@/scuderiawifey: ok but this is actually adorable??? like belle really just took oscar under her wing????

@/wheelnutsanon: also charles reacting like he just learned he has a secret second sibling is killing me

@/gridgossip: BREAKING: Oscar Piastri has been unofficially adopted into the Leclerc family. Charles found out through Twitter.

***

Leclerc Sibling Group Chat

 (Members: Arthur, Isabelle, Charles, and Lorenzo)

Charles: What is this about you “adopting” Oscar??

Isabelle: Hello to you too, Charles.

Charles: Seriously, Isabelle. Twitter thinks you’ve absorbed him into the family. You couldn’t mention that?

Isabelle: He asked me where to get pastries when he moved here. I answered. That’s not exactly international news.

Lorenzo: So you adopted him through croissants and Google Maps. Makes sense.

Charles: And the internet’s obsessed with it. Again. This is exactly how the Lando rumors started.

Isabelle: Charles.

Charles: No—don’t “Charles” me. You’re always like this. You do some tiny thing in public, the fans lose their minds, and I get blindsided before quali.

Charles: This is not a joke. It’s race weekend. At home. I don’t need distractions right now.

Isabelle: Then maybe stop scrolling Twitter two hours before FP?

Charles: I wouldn’t have to if you weren’t always causing speculation.

Lorenzo: Are we back on the “Belle is dating Lando” thing?

Charles: YES. Because people think she adopted Oscar and is soft-launching into the Norris family.

Isabelle: I’m not dating Lando. Or Oscar. Or anyone in orange.

Charles: Can you just be low-profile until Sunday? 

Charles: I want to win at home without the press asking if my sister is secretly engaged to my teammate’s former teammate. Is that too much to ask?

Isabelle: Don’t worry, Charles. I’ll keep a low profile.

***

Belle exhaled slowly, settling onto a high stool of McLaren’s hospitality.

“This is so much calmer than Ferrari,” she murmured.

Lily tilted her head. “Too much espresso and shouting over there?”

“Too much everything. Ferrari feels like performance art fueled by adrenaline and barely restrained stress. The walls are tense. Even the coffee judges you.”

Lily laughed. “Well, you’ve come to the right place. Our chaos is cozy. Loud, but cozy.”

They sipped their drinks in silence for a moment, letting the hum of track activity drift over them.

They sat in companionable silence for a while. Then, casually—too casually—Belle said, “So… do you happen to know if Lando is single?”

Lily blinked, turned her head very slowly. “I beg your what?”

Belle smiled innocently behind her sunglasses. “Just curious.”

“Is this like... a casual curiosity or a capital-C Conspiracy curiosity?”

“It’s for a friend,” Belle said sweetly.

“Oh my god.” Lily’s grin widened. “Your Emilie?! The one with the arched eyebrow and emotional X-ray vision?!”

“The very same. She asked about him after Miami and then insult-complimented him. Which means she’s intrigued.”

Lily gasped. “That’s basically a declaration of intent.”

“I thought so too,” Belle said smugly.

“She’d eat him alive.”

“He’d love it.”

Lily clutched her chest. “This is my favorite subplot of the season. And yes, as far as I know… Lando is tragically, gloriously single.”

Belle grinned. “Perfect. I’m just collecting data. Like a responsible friend.”

“You’re terrifying.”

“You say that like it’s a bad thing.”

Belle finished the last sip of her iced coffee and stood, stretching slightly before reaching for her sunglasses case.

“I should head back,” she said, a little regret in her voice. “If I’m gone too long, someone at Ferrari will think I’ve defected.”

Lily grinned. “You’d be welcome. Just saying.”

Belle gave her a wink. “Good to know.”

They hugged briefly, and Belle made her way down the narrow stairs of the McLaren motorhome, back toward the paddock’s center. The roar of engines was slightly muffled here—just enough to hear the hum of conversation, the clicking of photographers resetting lenses, the low static of radios. She moved easily, weaving between teams and team staff.

She’d just passed the Pirelli tent when she spotted him, unmistakable despite the sunglasses and cap—Jos Verstappen, chatting with a Red Bull staffer, nodding at something on a clipboard. He looked up as she approached, pausing mid-sentence.

He was not an easy man—everyone knew it.

She’d seen the way people stiffened when he walked past. Heard the stories. Max never sugarcoated them. His childhood hadn’t been easy; Jos was hard, demanding, relentless. Too much, sometimes.

And yet, Max still loved him.

Not blindly. Not without scars. But intentionally.

Max called him after every race. He texted him when things went wrong

Max loved him.

That was the part Belle always circled back to. Not in blind forgiveness—but in this fierce, complicated loyalty that had shaped who he was. Max could talk about his father’s mistakes and still want to protect him in the same breath.

And Belle, Belle who had lost her own father earlier than she should have…she understood that. The absence still ached. Quietly. Persistently.

Belle had never been on the receiving end of Jos’s temper. Never once. He’d been gruff, sure—especially the first time they met. But not unkind. Not to her.

She suspected that made her an exception.

The paddock thought Jos was all bark, all judgment. But Belle had sat beside him during lunch more than once, sipping coffee while he quizzed Max on fuel mapping like it was a Sunday crossword. She’d seen the sharpness soften when Max smiled, heard the pride he buried under complaints about tire strategy.

It was strange, maybe, but she liked him. Not in a warm, fuzzy way—but in the way you respect a hurricane for what it is and appreciate it when it spares your house.

There was a rare kind of steadiness in people who didn’t lie to themselves about who they were. And Jos knew exactly who he was.

He’d been brutal with Max at times. Too harsh, too strict. But Belle had watched Max pour all that pressure into discipline, pour all that history into determination—and then let her be the place where he could rest.

And Jos saw that. Maybe that’s why he liked her.

He looked up as she approached, the stern line of his mouth twitching into something just short of a smile. For him, it might as well have been a beam of sunshine.

“Belle,” Jos said, his voice rough but warm. “There you are.”

“Hello, Jos,” she greeted, easy and open.

He stepped toward her with the kind of casual nod that could almost pass for affection. “Thought you were with Ferrari.”

“I was. Took a detour.”

Jos huffed. “McLaren has better lighting. Can’t blame you.”

They stepped to the side, out of the path of two mechanics wheeling a cart. Belle found herself watching him for a moment—his weathered face, the tightness still in his shoulders. 

She knew what people said about him, knew what he’d been like with Max as a child. Strict to the point of brutal. All pressure, all fire.

But Max still called him Papa sometimes, when he was tired or fond.

Still lit up when Jos showed up on a race weekend, even if he didn’t say it.

Love could look strange from the outside. And still be real.

She never pretended to understand it. But she respected it.

“You look good,” Jos said, nodding to her. “Max said Monaco’s treating you both well. ”

Belle smiled slightly, brushing a wind-blown strand of hair behind her ear. “It has been.”

Jos made a noise that might’ve been agreement—or amusement. “How’s Lilly settling in?”

“Still a menace,” Belle replied, smirking. “She shredded one of Max’s Red Bull shirts last week. Looked very pleased with herself afterward.”

He studied her then, for a long moment. Not judging—just weighing. Jos never said anything he didn’t mean. Which made what he said next hit harder than it had any right to.

“I know I wasn’t an easy father,” Jos said, eyes fixed ahead, as if the admission would be easier without eye contact. “I pushed too hard. Got too angry. Expected too much.”

Belle didn’t speak. She knew better than to fill silence when someone like Jos offered it willingly.

“But Max…” Jos exhaled. “He still calls. Still wants me at races. Still makes space.”

“He loves you,” Belle said quietly.

Jos nodded once, jaw tight. “He tells me things now,” he said quietly. “Little things. What you made for dinner. What you said when he had a bad sim race. How the cats sleep on your side of the bed.”

Belle felt her chest tighten—but not in a bad way. Just in that quiet, overwhelming way that meant this mattered.

“I used to worry,” Jos went on. “That he’d burn out. Too much, too soon. Like I pushed him past something soft he was supposed to keep. But with you...”

He trailed off. Didn’t finish the sentence. Jos didn’t need to.

Belle understood anyway.

With her, Max had something soft again. Something to rest in. Something to hold.

“I don’t want to be the only soft thing in his life,” Belle said gently. “But I’ll be there, if he needs it.”

Jos nodded. “He does.”

A pause. He looked at her again. “I’m glad it’s you.”

Belle’s throat tightened. “Thank you.”

“He’s steadier with you,” Jos added. “Not softer. But anchored. Like he knows where to land.”

Belle blinked away the sudden sting in her eyes. “He does the same for me.”

Jos’s mouth curved, just a little. “That’s how it should be.”

They stood like that for another few seconds, in the shifting quiet of the paddock—engines humming, people passing, a thousand things moving around them. But it felt still.

Then, as if remembering who he was, Jos cleared his throat and stepped back. “Go on, before someone accuses you of defecting to Red Bull.”

“I’ll deny everything,” Belle promised.

Jos nodded once, a final farewell. “Tell Max to call this evening. He never remembers.”

“He does,” Belle said, turning away with a small smile. “He just likes when you remind him.”

***

Meanwhile on Twitter: 

@/MonacoMadness:

Someone zoom in on this pic. She’s laughing at something Lily said.

THE EYE CONTACT.

WAKE UP SHEEPLE.

@/GarageGhouls: Me: they’re just friends. Also me: builds color-coded map of Belle’s appearances near Lando over 18 months

@/SprinkleTheory:

REMEMBER THE SPRINKLE CONVERSATION???

Don’t act like y’all forgot the sprinkles.

Lando and Belle. Ice cream. Eye contact. ENDGAME.

@/CharlesStan97:

Charles could be on fire and no one would notice because y’all are too busy shipping his sister with Lando.

@/OscarPSpyCam:

Meanwhile Oscar is just thrilled his girlfriend and Lando’s or Max’s maybe-girlfriend are bonding over iced coffee and judging everyone.

@/LandoNation94: She was with Lily later too??? Like fully laughing at something together like besties??? What do they know

@/BelleWatch2025: Everyone: She’s dating Max. Me, seeing her chat and giggle with Lily: 👀👀👀

@/MonacoMadness: Belle is either: a) secretly dating Lando b) adopting the entire McLaren team as her emotional support family c) both

@/RedFlaggedRomance: I’m telling you. Belle being with Oscar’s girlfriend all before qualifying?? That’s some soft launch energy

@/OpenYourEyesF1: She’s in the papaya now. The soft colors. The oat milk lattes. The laughing. Ferrari could never.

@/PapayaTheory: So what you’re saying is: Isabelle is now friends with Lily AND STILL INSISTS SHE’S “JUST A FRIEND” Right.

@/gridgossip: DID I JUST SEE ISABELLE LECLERC CHATTING WITH JOS VERSTAPPEN??? and like… smiling??? And he WAS TOO???

@/chaoticprancinghorse: That man growled at a cameraman last year and now he’s out here looking friendly because Belle showed up??? What kind of soft power diplomacy is this???

@/f1girldetective: Belle. Babe. What spell did you cast on Jos Verstappen and is it available in serum form??

@/paddockcryptid: you’re telling me jos verstappen—the same man who looks like he’s planning a coup 80% of the time—was out here smiling??? Because of isabelle leclerc??? i’m ascending

@/maxsmiletracker: First the wallpaper, now they are chatting in the paddock?!?

@/wheelnutsanon: BREAKING: Jos Verstappen spotted having a pleasant conversation with Isabelle Leclerc. Charles Leclerc reportedly still screaming into a pillow somewhere

***

Belle had barely stepped through the glass doors of Ferrari hospitality when Charles turned on her like a heat-seeking missile.

“Why were you talking to Jos Verstappen?”

She blinked. “Hi, Charles. I’m fine. Thanks for asking.”

He stalked toward her, cap slightly askew, eyes wild in that very specific way he only got during Monaco weekend meltdown mode™.

“No, seriously. I just saw you outside. With Jos. Why?”

Belle exhaled slowly. “Because we ran into each other. We exchanged words. As people sometimes do.”

Charles narrowed his eyes. “It looked longer than words. You were smiling.”

She dropped her bag onto one of the hospitality chairs with more force than necessary. “What exactly do you think is happening here, Charles? Spell it out. Because first it was GP, then Lando, and now—now—you think I’m flirting with Max’s father?!”

“You smiled at him, Belle!”

“I also smile at dogs, coffee, and your PR assistant. That doesn’t mean I’m planning a romantic future with any of them.”

Charles scowled. “You don’t understand. The whole paddock watches you. They speculate. And it distracts me.”

“Oh, I’m so sorry my existence is personally offensive to your championship hopes,” Belle said flatly. “Do you want me to start wearing a paper bag over my head?”

Charles blinked. “That’s not—”

“You’re stressed. I get that. Monaco is important to you. But I’m not the enemy here, Charles. I’m not out there giving interviews or calling press conferences. I was walking back from McLaren. I ran into Jos. We talked. That’s it.”

“He’s Max’s dad,” Charles said, like it was the punchline to a joke she didn’t get.

“And Max is a person I know,” Belle replied, tone tight. “Not that it’s any of your business.”

Charles narrowed his eyes. “What does that mean?”

Belle gave him a long, unimpressed look. “Nothing. Because I’m not doing this with you.”

“Belle—”

“No, Charles.” Her voice dropped, low and firm. “You’re rude. You’re exhausted. And instead of admitting that, you’re picking a fight with me.”

Charles faltered. “I didn’t mean—”

“You did. But it’s fine. You’ll be insufferable until Sunday and then pretend none of this happened.”

She walked past him, brushing lightly against his shoulder. “Next time, just say you’re scared of losing and stop dragging my coffee chats into it.”

Charles stood frozen, holding his espresso cup like it had betrayed him.

Belle didn’t look back.

[endlessdreamworld]

Baptism by Fire

the sequel to a short AU fic featuring secret priest! Sunday of a small village x baker! gn reader. part one here.

The familiar jingle of the bell above the front door signaled the arrival of a customer in the tailor’s shop. “Coming!” Sunday called, putting a pause to the present project. It was a simple hem for the blacksmith, though it did require some special care given how thick the heat resistant fabric was.

There you were, dripping on the polished wooden floorboards of the tailor’s shop with all of the charm of a pathetic wet cat. And it wasn’t just that. Your uniform had frayed threads that were burned loose from what seems to be a fire. It left you looking like you were covered in wet spiderwebs, the clothing in total ruins. Poor thing’s shaking, Sunday hurried towards you. “How in the world did you manage to both drown and burn your pretty uniform?” He knew you weren’t the type to be wasteful, so this current predicament put him on edge. I need to do something before my sweet dove catches a cold. 

Sunday took your hand, being mindful to brush as much of his skin against yours as he could. It was a test just for you, to see if his favorite lamb could resist the temptation of flesh. He didn’t fail to notice the small twitch of your lonely fingers just before he let go and sat on you on a stool, towel already in hand.

“There was an accident at work. A corner caught fire and I had to throw myself in the river or risk hurting myself,” was your out of character confession. It was unlike you to be this careless. “I’m sorry Mr. Oak, but I wasn’t able to save you any of today’s specials because I had to run right over here.” The implication of missed payment went unspoken between you.

Sunday retrieved the towel, and replaced it with some undergarments. “Think nothing of it, or maybe like a gift for being a loyal customer for such a long time. Now we need to get your measurements, don’t we?” He took your hand and led you to the back of the shop where there was a curtain to grant you privacy. You changed into the garments and readied yourself for the impending proximity. He pulled back the curtain, measuring tape already in hand.

The next – eternity. It was nothing short of an eternity of torture. It felt like you were dying every second Sunday’s fingers roamed your body. The brush of measuring tape and the tender pads of his fingers seemed to be relishing in your suffering. God was testing you, you justified. It was up to you to endure this for you and Mr. Oak.

Sunday worked in complete silence, leaving you with only the pounding of your heart and the scratch of ink against paper as he wrote down the shape of your form one number at a time. Just before you went crazy, and opened your mouth to vomit out your sinful feelings, it was over. You passed.

With a spare set of clothes, and a pat on the back, Sunday sent you on your way. It must be hard to make an entire set of clothing from scratch, and it would give you an excuse to come back every few days just to ask about the progress. There was nothing wrong with wanting to know about the status of something that important, right? But deep down you knew you were lying to yourself, and so you had to confess to all of the filth you have buried deep in your heart.

“Forgive me father, for I have sinned.”

It was you. Sunday was hoping you’d stop by and tell him the story of what really happened earlier that day.

“Speak freely child, God forgives all who sin.” He tried to keep his voice steady, but you were just as much of a test of faith for him as he was for you.

It took you a moment to find your voice but he couldn’t blame you. It wasn’t easy to confess your shortcomings especially if they weighed as heavy. “Today I lied to the person I cared most about.” He wasn’t surprised to hear this. Sunday knew the moment you spoke to him earlier that morning that you were lying about the circumstances of your garb.

“Confess to me the truth of your lie and all shall be forgiven,” Sunday kept his voice level, maintaining that unusual drawl of his to mask his identity.

“Perhaps it’s more of a fib, but my intentions were to deceive. Today I told him I had a workplace accident, but it was a bit more than that. The baker’s son has been more and more forward with his intentions and he’s become more shameless with his... touch,” the words tasted bitter leaving your mouth and you couldn’t hide the shaking in your voice even if your life depended on it. “I’m afraid to speak out for fear of losing my home.”

A foul serpent in our midst, one that needs dealing with. The viper will be extricated from our hallowed garden by the week’s end.

“Today, he got closer and closer, and I prayed to God to save me. As if by divine intervention my uniform caught fire from a stray ember that escaped the oven. No one thought ill of me when I elbowed past them on my dash to the river. That’s what truly happened. I just wanted to spare him the worry.”

He sighed, “A kind lie but a lie nonetheless. You are forgiven.” That wretch will pay most dearly for making you feel such desperation. 

“Father,” you called out, the wood of the confession booth felt claustrophobic. “Do you think this is a sign from God that my feelings are pure? I cried out to Him and he granted me the blessing of sanctuary, an opportunity to spend time with the one I hold most dear.”

You leaned up against the screen of the booth and shut your eyes, recounting the memory. “I feel I was tested today. I didn’t notice how soft Mr. Oak’s hands were until today when he traced them down every part of me. I fear I’ll be haunted by the memory of it until the end of my days.”

Sunday’s mouth went dry at the thought of your confession. “The book speaks of baptisms of fire. God has given you a sign from above that you’ll find salvation in your beloved. You should accept it for what it is.”

“Thank you, Father.” You bid your farewell, your heart much lighter and your head clearer. Yes, he was right, this surely is a sign from above. And so when you returned back to the bakery, you snuck around like a thief in your own home. You grabbed what you needed, the tool of your salvation, and climbed up the ladder to your room in the attic.

This is God’s will. You were told as such. But was the way your heart was racing, and the filthy thoughts that plagued your mind God’s will too? You didn’t know. What you did know is that you were desperate to be delivered from the fate you were given -- indulging the baker’s son or risking homelessness. You find the borrowed clothing you had gotten from Sunday earlier that day on the bed where you left it.

The object you had in your hand that you’ve used countless times felt much heavier, as if consecrated by the weight of what you were about to do. This is necessary, this is God’s will. This is so we can be together, so I can be saved. Your breathing sped up in anticipation and your hands shook. The shrill groan of metal grinding against metal as you opened the object echoed through your mind as you began to wildly cut at the fabric.

Who knew a simple pair of scissors could feel so holy?

Sorry for taking so long! I hope it met your expectations. Tagging everyone who requested a sequel or to be tagged: @yae-yu127 @hersweetsstrawberry @666xist @killergee @anzuwrld @xeltxt @thypplover @mehkers

[alexthebordercollie]

Ford's autism

K so I don't think I need to defend the interpretation Ford is on the spectrum. People make jokes about him being autistic all the time. We all see it. What I want to do here is sort of connect together some character details and examine them through the lense of my own autistic experiences.

I wanna start with his hands. It's an observation I've seen from multiple people that Ford is insecure about his hands and often hides them behind his back or in his pockets. And yeah, he is obviously insecure about them. He even mentions his six fingers at times when they aren't really relevant to anything. It just showcases the space this physical deviation of his takes up in his mind. And yes, it makes sense that he's insecure about them because he was bullied for them growing up. I want to add to this observation.

Ford would have been bullied regardless.

The problem was never really his hands. When you're on the spectrum people around you can tell that you're weird. Uncanny. Something is different and feels wrong about you to NT people, especially kids. They will pick any shallow superficial thing they can find as an excuse to bully you and justify the sense of revulsion they feel around you but can't articulate. If Ford had been born with normal hands they just would have made fun of him for something else, it would have been his glasses, or the movies he liked, or hell maybe some good old-fashioned antisemitism. Literally, any excuse they could find.

I know growing up I tried for years to change the things about me that I was made fun of for and it never made things any better. The bullying never stopped. "Fixing" things about myself didn't work because the thing that was actually "broken" was something fundamental to who I am. That realization as a kid was soul-crushing. That there was nothing I could do that would ever make me "normal", that would ever make people like me. I felt like an alien born on the wrong planet.

Ford continues to latch onto his hands as a sore spot because they're something simple and obvious he can point to as an excuse for why he's so outcast. He probably knows by this point that the hands aren't actually the problem. I'd argue this journal entry and his comment about "another failed social interaction" shows that he's aware his hands aren't actually the problem. But, it is a lot easier to fixate on those than to dwell directly on that sinking feeling that at the core of you're being you are fundamentally weird, wrong, unlovable. Ford's a genius. If his polydactyly bothered him that much he could have removed the extra digits. The hands aren't the problem, they're a symbol of a more fundamental kind of pain.

Looking at it through this context also makes the gloves Fiddleford gives him an extra sweet gift given what they represent. A kind of wholehearted acceptance of who Ford is and even a willingness to adapt to his unique needs just to show him love and affection. I think something that hurts me so much about their relationship is that Ford had someone who very clearly loved him as is and would have never wanted him to be someone or something else, and Ford was too stubborn to fully appreciate that.

The same is true of Stanely by the by. He never had a problem with his brother being weird. Another relationship with someone who loved Ford as is but who Ford took for granted. He needs these kinds of relationships in his life. People who embrace and accept him for the weirdo he is. He needs them desperately, which gets me to my next point.

Ford's ego. So it's also a common observation that Ford has a massive ego. He's kind of an ass, to put it mildly. But I have had someone in conversation frame it like the pressure to prove themselves was just on Stanley and Ford just spent his whole life being hyped up and told he was hot shit. This isn't true, or at least it's a flattening of his experiences.

Ford was praised for his genius. This is true. But his own father only gave a shit when said genius showed signs of netting material gains for the family. It only mattered cause Ford could be useful. Furthermore, this genius never netted him social acceptance from his peers growing up. He was still a bullied, weirdo, loser most of his childhood. Add that seeing Stanley kicked out would have drilled into Ford's head that if he couldn't make something out of himself his family wouldn't want him either. Stan was an unspoken threat of what this family does to failures.

Gonna bring up my own personal experiences again. Having set the stage for how it feels growing up on the spectrum. That feeling of alienness that you can't really explain. I loved to write and draw from a very young age. Moreover, as I got older I realized that when I drew, people were nice to me. The only time I got social acceptance was when people were admiring or praising me for my art. So I did it more and more, I devoted myself feverishly to my art. I loved it anyway and would have hyper-fixated on it regardless but the positive reinforcement turned art from something I loved to a need. I NEEDED to be an artist. I needed to be the best at my school. I needed all eyes on my work because it was the only way I could make friends. The only way I could prove that I had value. That I deserved a place in society.

I see that in Ford. I see his ego not as shallow narcissism but as an overwhelming need to prove his value as a person. To be loved and accepted and believing that no one will want him if he isn't brilliant. If he doesn't change the world. If he isn't useful. This is also why he couldn't bring himself to destroy his research even knowing it was the safest and most responsible option. Burning down everything he worked for would mean finally giving up on the fantasy of ever being accepted or valuable.

The sad thing is he's so single-mindedly fixated on this personal goal of proving his worth to the world that when people do come along that love him unconditionally he takes them for granted. These people are statistical anomalies in his life. Nice to have around, but not enough to fix the bigger problem. They aren't reflective of society at large. They aren't enough to prove that he, personally, is loveable. Just that on occasion he meets another weirdo. For a while it's nice. Like a campfire in a barren tundra. But he has to keep moving, he can't stay. Warmer lands are ahead if he can just get to them. If he can just keep moving.

This also is why Ford was so susceptible to Bill. Bill told Ford what he wanted to hear. That he was destined for greatness. That, the fundamental wrongness he felt all his life was something incredible other people just couldn't see. Bill promised Ford exactly what he wanted, but not what he actually needed. Ford never needed the world at large to accept him. He just needed a few good people.

I also think his chemistry with Bill was connected to his autistic experiences as well. Bill is literally an alien. There's no pressure to mask around him. To try and "act normal". Ford can just be himself with Bill and not have to think about it. And sure, he could be himself around Fiddleford, but Fidds is still human. The anxieties of human social expectations are still present. Like when Fidds get him a gift for the holidays and Ford feels a bit guilty that it didn't even occur to him to do the same. He doesn't have to think about these social nuances with Bill.

That said I'm sure Bill isn't what his world would have considered neurotypical anyway. Not that Ford would know that. But Bill was also a strange freak in his own society. Just as outcast, possibly more so. I think Bill sees a bit of his own experiences reflected in Ford. I think he relates to him on a level. Not that he would ever admit it outright due to his own ego. I think Bill's fixation on him after the breakup also stems from Ford rejecting the path that Bill chose for himself. Bill still lives with some sort of deeply repressed guilt for what he did. Imagine how validating it would have been to see someone else like him burn their own world to the ground for the same reasons Bill did. But no, Ford's a better man than him, and Bill can't stand it.

Ok, I don't know how to end this long-ass monologue so I'm gonna call it here I guess. I just wanted to spill some thoughts of mine about Ford as a character. If anyone else wants to add to this with other examinations of Ford's character through this lense go right ahead. I'm just saying as an autistic person myself I understand every choice Ford made. I could relate to why he did the things he did even if I know those were mistakes and even acknowledging that he's kind of an asshole. Ford is a strange man who makes an eerie amount of sense to me.

[0ccuria]

Wanted to do Halsin as a young cub coming into his Druidry, with a familiar friend to wish him well. (not to worry, the face tat is just paint here)

also wrote a little blurb (791 words) to accompany it under the cut!

“Alright. You can do this – relentless studies do not fail me now.” A young Halsin told himself, alone within a small grotto. It was time for him to prove his knowledge to his elder peers. He had been preparing for months, nights after long nights of arduous studying of old tomes and hours long meditations. His hands buzzed with a cocktail of anxiety and excitement as he quietly rehearsed his teachings.

He pressed a loosely closed fist to his chest and bowed his head, “Oak Father, grant me courage to excel through the trials this Circle has bestowed upon me. I trust no other counsel but yours.”

A moment passed as he reflected on his prayer, but was soon interrupted by a magical disturbance in the air. A faint golden light flashed behind Halsin that grabbed his attention. Suddenly, an apparition of a young boy with a familiar pair of horns materialized before him.

“No other’s, hm?” It said, hands on its hips.

Halsin’s eyes widened at the sight, “...Thaniel?!” He shouted in shock.

His best and only friend to ever grace his company stood there in front of his very eyes. When was the last time he had been so lucky? The teachings and training of the Circle had regrettably pulled Halsin away from seeking out Thaniel’s connection for some time. Immediately, Halsin set his hands upon the boy’s shoulders, lightly gripping them.

“It’s really you! Why are you...” he shook his head, “I’m so sorry, I have neglected you for too long. I hope you can forgive me.” He pleaded.

“But, why?” Thaniel replied, perplexed. “Don’t apologize for following the path that nature has set before you.” An assuring smile stretched his cheeks.

Halsin bit his lower lip to quell his heart from welling up over the sudden mixture of emotions. He then nodded and retrieved his hands. “Yes, you’re right.” He sighed, “I only wish I could have you at my side, always. It has become rather lonely on walks without your little shadow trailing behind me.”

Thaniel skipped over to a moss covered slab and sat upon it, crossing his legs and holding onto his ankles. He swayed back and forth, unable to keep still. “As do I, but we all must fall into the whirlwind of change at some point in our lives, and like the branch of a tree, there will be many more paths that you will have to decide to take for yourself. Nature is not-”

“Stationary.” Finished Halsin.

The two smiled at each other before sharing a giggle, still able to finish each other’s sentences. The young Druid then joined Thaniel for a seat, leaning forward with his hands clasped between his knees. Thaniel then set his head against Halsin’s shoulder, which had certainly grew in size the last he had seen him.

“Don’t fret, Hal, I have been trailing behind – I always will be. Wherever there is a breeze in the air, you will be content to know that it’s me checking in on you.” The boy said. “I know you will become a great Druid – I could see no other better to protect nature. You got this.”

Halsin’s lip quivered, breaking loose to the tears that rolled down his cheeks. He sniffled and wiped his eyes as he let the wave pass through, “Heh. Oh, how I have missed your kind words, thank you, truly. I will take that to heart as long as I live.”

He wrapped his arm around the boy, pulling him into a tighter hug before releasing him. “...Will you sit with me for a moment longer before I have to go? I think there is still time.” He asked.

With a sudden puff of glittery mist that startled Halsin, Thaniel teleported to the other side of the grotto that lead outside and stood there with his arms crossed, “I have a better idea…” a smirk crossed his lips.

Halsin knew of what he spoke of; a game of chase they had always enjoyed. “Are you sure?” He daringly asked. “I’ve become quite fast these days!” He continued, accepting the challenge. He then got up into a half crouched stance, holding his hands out beside him to pull nature's blessing from the soil below to conjure himself into the wildshape of a wolf. Once on all fours, he vigorously shook as if he were wet in order to acclimate himself to the form. Thaniel stood ready to run, awaiting Halsin to come after him.

“Let me be the judge of that!” The boy shouted, tauntingly.

With an elated howl, Halsin charged towards Thaniel, who swiftly darted away as the unmistakable shrill of a child’s laughter and the clacking of claws on stone faded into the distance.

[zahri-melitor]

I want to go on more about The Boy Wonder #3, because it’s just really on top of aspects of the Tim and Damian problem without taking sides or getting aggressive.

Damian’s failing in it is that he is so ready to misread Tim’s intentions that he doesn’t stop to think that Tim is equally undercover like he is and overlooks what he knows about Tim’s skillset. (Someone here is jamming your signal, Damian? What a mystery who that could be)

Tim’s failing in it is that he doesn’t bother to explain the plan to Damian, doesn’t expect Damian to listen to him and follow his lead, and he doesn’t trust that Damian won’t betray him, so he plans around him.

BOTH of their plans don’t consider the other as active participants, but Tim’s is able to adapt on the fly to take into account Damian’s actions, while Damian with a lot less experience in team environments cannot.

I can tell you feel bad about killing that guy. But do you feel bad because you hurt someone...or because you were punished for it? Do you only feel bad because you got found out?

And yeah, that’s the thing with early Damian.

Tim’s mistrust is completely understandable. Even as he grants Damian grace - “I know you feel guilty about it” - he points out he doesn’t know the reason for the guilt and that also has meaning to Tim, because he doesn’t know if the growth associated with the regret has happened.

Damian's actions that Tim sees do fall into this valley of 'why are you guilty'. Whereas Dick and Bruce both see Damian's growth and attempts to make amends, Damian's prickly enough that Tim largely does NOT see that and instead gets Damian who doesn't trust him, who reads the worst intentions into Tim's actions...and so Tim does the same.

They even out! You can see it on page in places! But 'doing the right thing because someone else wants you to' and 'doing the right thing because YOU want to' are two different steps, and we watch Damian go through both, and early on he is definitely not yet at appreciable self motivation.

And when Damian does demonstrate this growth for Tim in the story:

You stuck with doing what was right, even when it was hard. I appreciate it.

He acknowledges it and takes it into account!

And look part of the misunderstanding here is definitely that Tim doesn't slow down and explain his plans to Damian. He's used to working with Bruce or Dick where he wouldn't need to, he's also had bad responses when he's explained to Damian before, so he treats him as an obstacle or a spoiler in the mix that he plans around and uses as a distraction but doesn't bother to explain his actions to.

(Also Damian is just. so young. in this. He can't tell that Tim's playing along to let people tell him the information he wants)

Just an hour ago, the prince had seen this same brother abuse his gifts for personal gain...hadn't he? And yet here he was, setting that aside to join the prince in doing what was right. A reminder you could indeed start wrong and course-correct. It's never too late to act better.

If he had inspired his brother toward such a change, maybe he could live up to his father's expectations after all.

Ahahahahaha Damian. Baby. Tim was schmoozing Oswald Cobblepot and Lex Luthor and Veronica Cale for a purpose! Tim does not think they are good people to work with! He was trying to get information out of them! He needs to know what they're up to for the family company! Tim is not going to trust Luthor or Cale!!!

And yet baby Damian here is still telling himself a parable that he saw growth in Tim so he can also live up to that growth. He 'inspired' Tim.

Character centred storytelling at its most hilarious. But also quite sweet - because it's just another level of 'the problem between Tim and Damian is they misread each other and exist in the other's blindspots', so the resolution STILL having Damian with that giant blindspot but working it through in his head to put Tim into a slightly better light is actually a creative and interesting way to approach the growth.

Also funny. SO funny.

[aeraspais]

There’s been talk about how the vertigo arc is meant to “punish” Eddie since the very start this past spring, and I’ve never understood why fans ever reached this conclusion when the storyline was written with such love, care and compassion for the character. You can really feel Eddie's pain if you actually engaged the storyline in good faith. Like, Ryan Guzman gave us his best performance and “we” as a fanbase only paid him back with complaints and dismissals that it was too fantastical, stupid and had no true narrative relevance. When Tim Minear wished he had more episodes to explore the storyline, he wasn’t admitting that he failed. He was telling us, the audience, that there was even more to explore through this particular lens. And instead of analyzing what was said and how it was vocalized during the Kim’s forced roleplaying scene, this fandom have gotten stuck in a never-ending battle in a rush to litigate who was at fault when that doesn’t particularly matter to the characters or even the show itself. It was always supposed to be a physical manifestation of Eddie’s internal struggles, that of his sexuality (again, as we all should know by now, this man’s a flaming homosexual) and the role Shannon played in his self-denial and repression.

To cope with his perceived failures, he heavily romanticize his marriage and relationship with Shannon because he’d be cast as a dutiful husband, father and provider from childhood. Shannon asked him for a divorce after she spent an entire year making him jump through hoops to prove he was “worthy” enough of her attention, of her love, even though it was she who ran in the cloak of darkness never to contact him or their son again. It was Eddie who’d brought her back into their lives, as she was content with being away until her vanity was satisfied from being needed by way of being the deciding factor in Christopher’s school placement. So, although I don’t know if Shannon was ever truly “happy” in Los Angeles, during this period, she still got a chance to “self-actualize” without the “burdens” (responsibility) of being a parent for two to three years before died in front of Eddie, who’d never been granted this same opportunity. Instead, this crystalized him as a father first, husband second, first responder third with Eddie Díaz the person coming in at a long distance fourth. All this is something Eddie doesn’t know how to turn off since his life has never been calm enough to simply be. He's a performer through and through so, to me, his heightened silliness is his mask, not necessarily the mustache. I think that maybe that’s his test, that maybe we are going to learn that he already has had his thoughts that maybe he’s gay and his mustache was him feeling things out. But who knows what to expect with 9-1-1. While I’m opened to being surprised, I fear that many aren’t.

[lakesbian]

okay basically i think the list of various failures in alec and taylor's potential friendship is like this

immediately upon meeting alec is disaffected and socially backgrounded + indirect in a way that makes it less likely for him to connect with taylor (bullying victim who assumes she's being cringed at unless very clearly proven otherwise). she doesn't dislike him & she considers him to be one of her New Friends, but she does not know him very well, and she has a few moments of thinking things like..."is he making fun of me here"/"am i being dumb and lame" while she's interacting with him, bc she's incompatible with his style of irony and detachment. he doesnt make her feel Unwelcome, and hes in fact trying pretty hard to be welcoming, but they just dont click in the same way as taylor and brian or taylor and lisa, and hes not as good at dissuading her social anxieties as e.g. brians niceness.

they just incidentally don't spend a lot of time together (e.g. being split up on the abb raid), and when they do, their personalities usually continue to bounce off each other in a way that prevents longer conversations. like when alec asks if taylor made a pun on purpose and shes like ?? and hes like lol nvm. hes just not trying hard enough when his initial forays fail.

when alec first talks about who his father is, taylor is just like. very much a Normal Kid about it. she doesn't Get It. she doesnt parse heartbreaker's kids as being in the category of 'victims,' and when alec talks casually about being forced to commit murders, his alarmingly cool reaction is what she processes--the whole part where he says "i convinced myself i didn't care" goes in one ear and out the other. she walks away from the convo not really having processed or analyzed that alec is obviously Really Fucked Up over it & consequently doesn't hold much sympathy or grace for him & his odd behaviors

on a similar note, prior to this, they do talk past each other in the fugly bobs convo, with neither really being capable of understanding where the other is coming from morally or mentally

his fate as the one taylor judges for being immoral is pretty sealed when he doesn't give a fuck about dinah...while taylor does feel betrayed by all of the other undersiders choosing to stick with coil, we see how brian at least has more coherent and sympathetic moral reasoning--he Needs this for his sister. alec is just like "yeah so i dont really care im used to this." combined with her previous qualms about his past, her inability to notice that Dudes Got Fucking Problems, and her general lack of bonding with him/lack of seeing sympathetic traits in him, this kind of permanently puts her off on him, even when she rejoins the team later. and she also just does not spend a lot of time sitting around thinking about alec, so one specific perception of him is largely cemented. and that perception is only strengthened later by, like, the whole kidnapping/enslaving victor(nazi not lavere) + shatterbird thing. by the time alec is obliviously talking about his trauma over breakfast, the least generous possible reading is her default one

Also. another thing regarding morality im always harping on with them is. alec is actually quite similar with taylor in some ways. when it comes to being a villain as a way of taking eye-for-an-eye rage out on the nearest justifiable target, or being really good at alarming cold anger, or being horribly casual about horrible violence...they can come off as externally quite similar. i think that part of her refusal to grant him interiority is eventually because, like. if she has to admit that alec has sympathetic/understandable reasons for being the way he is despite how horrifying he can be, then she may also have to process that, despite her sympathetic/understandable reasons for what she does, she can still be horrifying.

and i do think they're Narrative Foils where taylor morally decays as alec improves. but her perception of his morality is still fixed, and it becomes inaccurate at a certain point in his development. so it leads to really funny scenes where shes literally being Worse than him but is still talking in her head about how evil he is and how she needs to stop him from being evil. we love you taylor.

im not sure where exactly you could intervene in this process & change something to make them get along better...what i was trying to convey yesterday is my opinion that even if they never had interactions that raised her moral qualms, i still don't think they would end up close, just because their personalities don't really lend themselves to super emotionally or intellectually intimate interactions. and i also just don't think they come off as very compatible for hanging out, like i don't know if they would Have Fun on a friend date.

i feel like the most likely circumstance for making their relationship closer is like...if taylor doesn't find out about the shit that would give her moral pause until much later, and they're also forced into some kind of circumstance where they need to rely on each other and just spend some time talking. i do feel like alec having a moment of real emotional vulnerability would help a lot, but i just don't think he does those in a way taylor would parse as being vulnerable!! like, his defense mechanism is to pretend he Doesnt Give A Fuck, and i think taylor just falls for that. like hes not like rachel where she decks taylor but shes also visibly suffering really hard on a regular basis. he always tries to act like hes just chilling. ok thats my textwall i hope everyone likes it

[vktrsnclr]

TEACHER'S PET (R18+)

MINORS GTFO

pairing: miguel o'hara x f reader

summary: you're a college freshman in biochemistry and miguel is your professor in biochemical engineering, a major subject that you're about to fail.

warning: I'm a feminist and I'm concerned.

word count: 1.9k+

contents: humiliation, degradation, age gap, height difference, fingering, oral sex, p in v, hair pulling, public groping.

MASTERLIST

It's your first year in college studying biochemistry, the exam results for the first semester's finals are supposed to be distributed today.

Your professor in biochemical engineering, Mr. O'hara discusses the grading system for the second semester but you're losing out of focus. You're staring at his thick voluptuous thighs, thick veiny hands and imagined how he would choke you with it.

You took a gulp at the thought of it. He then started the distribution of the report cards. Your stare followed him as he sat on the table, individually calling out your names and distributing the cards.

"Parker, good job. Reyes, do better next time. Stacy, impressive. Stark..... dios mio." His voice was hoarse. The way he says your last name followed by a spanish term you don't understand sounded like a moan but truly, a term of disappointment.

"Ms. Stark... Are you seriously daydreaming right now?" He asks with a stern voice.

"Oh um, no sir. W-What is it?" Your classmates tried to hold their laugh, you can hear them giggling.

"Get your ass over here." He orders. You stood and walked up to him, hands behind your back, signing 'fuck you' to all of your classmates.

"What are we gonna do with this?" He points at your grade in bio-engineering which is his subject and a major too. You looked at it by bending your torso down, slightly bowing cause you have an eyesight of a dying man. Your cleavage flashes in front of him unintentionally. He tries to look away and focus your report card.

"2.0 (C/73-76%). This is bad." Everyone in your school knows that you're a daughter of a billionaire genius and this is what you got.

Deep inside, you know that the reason you failed is because you've been partying too hard. Just like your father, you're a party animal.

"What can I do?" You asked worriedly.

"Meet me at my office at 6. Class dismissed." He stood up, towering over you at 6'9 ft. He walked out of the room with your classmates.

Your friend, Gwen Stacy clinged on your arm on the way to the cafeteria. You sat with her and his boyfriend, Peter Parker. You can't really understand what they're saying cause your mind is split between your daddy getting disappointed and your disappointed professor being such a daddy.

Four hours later, it's time to go home but you still have to go to Mr. O'Hara regarding your first semester results. You walked into an empty faculty, the other teachers already went home. You walked by Miguel's office window and saw him looking at his watch with what seems to be an irritated brow. You proceeded to walk inside his office, it's smells good and is neatly organized.

"Good evening Mr. Ohara."

"Miss Stark. You're 10 minutes late. Seems like you're not being very committed to your studies." He clenched his jaw and his pair of brow furrowed.

"I'm sorry I was j-"

"Was just expecting 'daddy' to fix it with his money?" He stood up and mocks, pertaining to your father offering a grant to your school.

"No... sir, I just ran into my friends." You opposed, looking down at the floor.

"Are they gone?"

"Yes sir."

"Good. Sit down." He sighs.

In a heartbeat, you sat down in a reclining chair right next to the table. He walks up to you, taking his crotch inches away from your face.

"Good girl." He takes your chin to look up at him. The view made your heart race and your cunt twitch.

"You think I'm not aware of your lustful eyes, hermosa?" He looks directly into your eyes with his hands still on your chin. Your eyes gawks and your face slowly turns red, not knowing what to say.

"Mr- Sir, I uh, I'm here for extra credits." You stuttered.

"Uh huh, what else?" He leans down, not breaking an eye contact.

"Uhhh... um m-my dad can pay you!" You blurted out of nowhere. You didn't know what to say since your mind is occupated by dirty thoughts but now you just seemed like a brat.

"Daddy's money hmm?"

"I'm your daddy here." He whispered roughly onto your ear, his hands shifted from your chin into your neck, gently gripping under your jaws.

"Daddy?" You spoke weakly.

"That's right, bitch." He replied with smirk.

You kind of expected this as a cliché porn category but you had no idea that you're gonna experience this in real life.

"You want credits? You little slut?" He cups the side of your cheeks and leans back to watch your face near his pants again.

"Yes! Yes, I want it." You nodded in agreement.

"Then earn it." He grabs a fistful of your hair and rubs it softly in his black pants with a huge bulge on it. You can smell his essence leaking from the fabric. This is all you ever dreamed of since the first day of school, you didn't think it would happen but it DID. All of your fantasies, clothed in black, sliding across your face.

You unbuttoned his pants in a hurry, dropping his undergarments down then finally busting his dick in front of you.

"Good girl." He slapped your face and you loved it. You proceeded to wet your lips to seduce him. He gripped on your hair tighter as you lick the tip of his 8-inch fat cock.

"Fuck." He groans, his voice deep and hoarse. You licked his length, wetting it together with his pre-cum leaking from the tip then swirled your tongue in its head while jerking him off.

"Holy shit you're good." The corner of his lip curling upwards.

He started throat fucking you, his head thrown back, moaning in pleasure. His cock reached your throat but you continued to take it until your eyes water. Miguel likes the way you look, internally choked by his massive cock.

He drags you up and makes you open your mouth as you spread your tongue that still has his pre-cum.

"Swallow." He ordered and you followed. You showed him an empty tongue to prove it.

"I'm gonna fucking destroy you." He places his hand on your chin to squeeze your face and starts kissing you roughly, like you've taken something from him. This is exactly how you want it. It's wet, sloppy and aggressive.

His kisses trailed down on your neck, you let him take off your clothes, even tear it up. He threw your designer clothes in the air like it was nothing. You would let this man do anything to you.

He began to roam his hands all over your body, from pumping your breasts down to your vagina, already dripping. He circles his middle finger on your clit sensually.

"You want this?" Miguel asks between the kisses.

"Uh huh." Your mouth can't form a proper word but a moan. He slaps you again, wanting you to say it clearly.

"You want this, you whore?!" He dips his hand on your hole, teasing you.

"Yes daddy, do it!" A high pitch pornographic whine came out of your mouth.

He then crooks his head onto your neck, leaving marks as he rams his finger up in your hole, sounds of wet squelching, moans and ass slaps filled the corners of his office. He reaches for the back of your clit inside your tight cunt and it drove you crazy. Your eyes roll at the back of your head. Unlike your other sexual partners, Miguel knows all about human anatomy.

"I'm gonna fuck the shit out of you." He takes your hands from his cock to your back, pulls his belt out of his pants and then ties your wrists.

"Yes please, I've been dreaming of this." You replied while he bends you over on the desk.

"Oh I bet you do you fucking slut." Miguel teases the tip of his cock on your clit, both wet from foreplay.

"Please fuck... fuck me."

Without any reply, Miguel rams his long and fat dick inside you, filling your walls with euphoria.

You groaned in pain after he put his full length in.

"Daddy it hurts."

"Nah, you can take it cariño." He reassures then pins your head on the desk while thrusting deep on your leaking hole.

"You... You've been spending a lot of time with that Parker boy huh? You like him?" He asks curiously, grabbing your hair.

"No, please he's with Gwen." You explained.

"You guys fuckin? Huh?" He ignores your answer while pounding at your pussy, making you scream in pain and pleasure.

"No daddy, Pleaaase.... I only want you. I want youuu." He grabs your tits from the back, holding it for support as his pace goes slower, making it comfortable for you.

"That's my girl. Now I'm gonna make you mine." His last words before sucking the skin off of your neck, leaving love marks that is visible to everyone.

"Ironman's daughter, pumping on my dick with her drenched punani. What's he gonna do? Save you?" He laughs devilishly. At this point you didn't care about your reputation. Your body wants him, even your cunt pulses everytime you peak behind your back to see him using you.

"You're my daddy, please fuckin destroy me." You surrendered. Miguel removes his belt on your wrists and puts it back as he pins it over your head in missionary position. Now, he can see your face while he fucks you, your lips smeared in red lipstick, smiling psychotically. Becoming undone by the stroke of his dick, his hands playing with your nipples and the other holding your wrists.

Your smile made him excited. His thrusts go faster and faster as you scream his name. "Mr. O'hara I'm cumming." You whined. It made him chuckle, you using honorifics despite your pussy currently being destroyed. He bit his lips, carried you by the hips, using you as his fucktoy. He pumps his dick in your tight little hole in a doggy position. Your feet doesn't even touch the floor because of your height difference. You simply just hang in the air with your pussy continously getting pounded.

"Shit shit shit I'm cumming." He whimpers.

"Cum inside daddy." It's the first time you had sex without protection and now you want him to cum inside you.

"That's right, princesa."

He continued plunging his sword into your uterus ramming even harder, seconds later, he busts his load. Your pussy's leaking with his thick cum all the way to your thighs. He lets go of your hips and places you on the table, back arched, pussy flowing.

He puts your panties back without cleaning your pussy, only the sides and the extra cum dripped on your legs and thighs.

"You did great, mija" He kisses your forehead.

"I did?"

"Yes you did." He smiles softly, saying it like he's a proud mentor.

After that encounter, he kept you as his pet, your friends noticed the hickeys on your neck every now and then and your alibi is always getting burnt by the hair curler. Flash Thompson even joked that the hair curler you're talking about is Mr. O'Hara.

Even if you denied it and threatened him with a lawsuit, It's obvious. Your lustful stares in the classroom, the special treatment you get in class above all the other students.

At times when the corridor is empty, he would grope your ass, spank it and squeeze it until you reach the classroom, walking in together at the same time. Your friends would always ignore the same smell coming out of you and Mr. O'hara. Fucking in every empty room, any chance that you get. You've certainly become the teacher's pet.

[lacunammmm]

Hi,I loved your post about dabi and while I do think he is the better one in LoV in terms of writing (especially in regards his backstory, I'm sorry but the whole "the entire Shimuras died and no one mentions ever" is so...bizarre and bad written to me) and while yes, I have respond on the post. I want to do a more in depth thing.

1) I think LoV are a bunch of hypocrite idiots. I'm not saying this as a hater but as an objective point of view. Shig is a stupid leader and has failed 2 times and one of those times, the mission was to kidnap a person to join his ragtags of losers...without any prior knowledge of said person.

2) Dabi was doing what once he was free from the creepy hospital? Bc that is a plot hole for me. Could he have survived on his own? I mean, maybe not impossible but he WAS a rich kid so...I find a bit hard that Mr. Rich kid suddenly gets street knowledge to know how to survive

3) ok say someone took dabi in and said person vanish for whatever reason. What dabi was doing then? If his plain is homicide -suicide, why he needs LoV? Make the statement you are Toya, and kill your father with a bang. I'm sorry I just can't see any reason for dabi to be in LoV or for why Shig puts up with him (Dabi, Mr. Iconic, calls him ugly to his face and tried to kill him granted shig tried too)

4) LoV's goals make no sense. Say they genuinely want to expose bad heroes, ok. Why join a group lead by a man that says "I will destroy everything"? Shig invaded a school. Not asking for the LoV to be cinnamon rolls but like ...they should think at least twice about that. "They are villains, they don't care about kids" ok, fair enough. Then they should care about how Shig let his teammates eat dust TWO TIMES

5) Shig has no feasible plan for "destroy all" which is fucking ironic (and show how he is stupid) bc he has decay. No,.srsly. if his goal was destroy everything...the way is to use his damn quirk. "Decay has a long range" ok, let's go with that, let's pretend decay couldn't have decay UA with, let's pretend shig in the first seasons couldn't decay UA in seconds...why he couldn't train? (I've noticed this a lot but many people in that universe take their quirks for granted and are so uninterested in learning more. "Oh I can fly x speed, ok no further asks")

6) "he was traumatized" if shig was so traumatized bc of his quirk...he wouldn't be able to use the quirk on overhaul. Which as much fandom hates him...overhaul is still human and Shig decay a part of his body...that should have trigger him, but it didn't. In fact, he never mentioned that.

7) Toga is not a innocent kid and I'm tired the fandom giving her excuses. "Her parents are evil abusers" i don't think they were just unequipped to handle toga who shows dangerous tendencies, killing an animal and drinking it's blood. "She needs blood or else she would die" if that was the case, she would need to have in her a blood bag, but she doesn't. She would attack LoV to drink their blood...she doesn't. Toga either killed or canalized the boy from her school. And I do like her ambiguity. I don't like her being cuddle (hate togaocha) she is hypocrite, she wants to live in a world where she faces no consequences (again, why the fuck she is following a man who wants to destroy all? She likes cute stuff right? Well, shig for sure have destroyed shops that sells cute stuff "bit shig promised he wouldn't destroy things his allies like" and are we really meant to believe in shig? If so, he already destroy a huge chunk of the city and the mall)

8) Spinner sucks, people can rewrite him and such but I hate him. Blaming Izu who sacrifice everything to save shig's ungrateful ass? Get out here. Also when spinner became so "wow shig is so cool"? I think, in my humble opinion, the shift became thanks to MVA. Where shig got a quirk awakening and looks cool. Spinner who has no identity and can only cosplay as others, found that cool. And sorry, I'm not sold on the friendship. There a panel where Shig looks so annoyed at the spinner where Spinner is yapping about god knows what.

9) afo. Ok yeah I don't think he ever want shig to replace him, that is obvious. But his plan was to get on Shig's body? But at the same time, it feels he gives no fucks about Shig. I genuinely think he gave LoV as a means for Shig to fail. To me, afo is the mean girl who laughs and bullies you, in this case, shig.

10) the nomus. I'm shocked no one in the heroes side is ever worried about those monstrosities. They exist, they defeated and move on...like, how you hide those things? No one makes questions. Naomasa found nothing on shig (i get as the name is fake) but it gave the impression everyone gave a shody work "let's Google his name" and that's it.

Hori doesn't like his villains, he doesn't like most of the heroes either. Its BK or endy.

Izu?

Hori: ewww Izu.

(the same goes for dabi bc love or hate him, this character is born to suffer. His backstory is so tragic, so awful and...he accomplished nothing. Just a piece to make his abuser looking good)

Shigaraki was always a joke. The story just gaslit you into thinking he was growing. In truth, his "growth" is actually just him gaining the level of intelligence almost the same as the average person. This absolute loser was handed a 76 man villain army, a nomu with the power of All Might, and Kurogiri, a man able to warp you anywhere you want as long as you've got some coordinates.

And he failed completely and utterly against a bunch of 15-16 year olds. In fact, his men were so pathetic not a single one of them could actually defeat any of these children. Only the nomu was dangerous, and of course it loses to All Might and Shigaraki proceeds to completely waste it by not even bothering to try and retrieve it.

The Symbol Of Anti Peace, ladies and gentlemen. Millions of dollars likely went into forming this dude. We know he took YEARS to be ready because he's seen in Vigilantes. And Shigaraki uses him in one fight and can't even be bothered to TRY to retrieve him. You know, the cops had this guy. He wasn't being kept in tartarus. All it would have taken was Shigaraki fighting his way to the intercom of the police station and then ordering Nomu to level the place. Once he hears Tomura, he'd activate and go on a murderous rampage.

But no, this loser just…let's the cops keep him and the USJ nomu is never seen again.

With respect to his quirk, Shigaraki could conceivably have done a terror attack every single day. His Decay quirk, at the time, just required he place five fingers on something and it would be destroyed.

So, at odd hours of the morning, he could have had Kurogiri open portals just big enough for his hands to fit through, and then he'd touch government buildings, the walls of police stations, and so on. Even if he doesn't destroy all of a building, he could still inflict millions, if not billions of dollars in damages on a daily basis with very little chances of being caught.

But Tomura is braindead and pathetic because he exists to scale to the hero kids. The author had to give them an opponent who wouldn't hurt them too badly since the main characters are his darlings and he can't bear the idea of real stakes or consequences. He squanders his advantages time and time again. Anyone reading this could be a better villain than Tomura.

Just to iron in how screwed the hero kids logically should have been at the USJ:

Kurogiri revealed that they had plotted to have the Nomu hold All Might still, so Kurogiri could open and close a portal on All Might's body and kill him. So, essentially what he's saying is that he could shred to pieces or cut apart anyone who enters one of his portals. So, Kurogiri's quirk is a one hit kill if he decides it is.

What was stopping him from just shredding all of the children apart instead of ineffectually scattering them across the USJ so the bumbling idiots they brought with them could fail to score a single fatality? Kurogiri had everyone's lives in his hands.

And two, at any point Tomura could have just ordered the Nomu to kill everyone, and All Might would have arrived to just the corpses of his comrades. Literally all he had to do was say three words. "Nomu, kill them." And we don't have a main cast. The story becomes about All Might, Aoyama and Endeavor from then on after the student massacre.

In retrospect, all of the elements of the final war arc was present from the beginning. The villains who should logically be overpowered but don't apply themselves. The hero plot armor. The author's refusal to seriously harm or kill anyone the audience could ever dream of giving a fuck about. It's a shame we just couldn't see it.

I call this the "Toga Problem."

I ask you: How did Toga, a schoolgirl who had no combat training, zero apparent muscle mass, who has never been in a fight, and whose quirk offers doesn't actually offer benefits in terms of boosting her physical stats, gain the strength and skill to be an experienced serial killer and also do things like reverse Aizawa's binding cloth and stab him to escape from him? How did she defeat Rock Lock in single combat? Even with an ambush, that's still not an easy feat.

Who trained her? What was her life like? Did she live on the streets? Did she couch hop? Did she date various people, fall deeply in love with them, live with them, then eventually kill them and drink their blood before moving on to another victim?

We know the timeline. She snapped from being deprived blood and had an accident with a kid….????….and then we come across her as a fully realized serial killer who has zero shame, guilt or remorse for anything she does.

Dabi has the same issue. What happened to Touya after he ran away from the Todoroki household that led to him becoming Dabi?

The author had zero interest in explaining any of it. It, personally, was one of my most anticipated mysteries, Toga's connective tissue as you will. But we're not gonna learn that, so oh well.

If the League didn't have Dabi acting as the albatross around their necks, they might actually succeed for once. The author couldn't have had that. Dabi is another means the author uses to nerf the League. As for what he was planning to do? Nothing.

It's my agenda that Dabi is a bum who can't do anything right, but it's canonically true, which is why it's funny. We're to believe that without all of these things falling into his lap, Dabi probably wouldn't have ever done anything.

The dude had no criminal record and he only listed burning those random guys as his crime. If he'd been a murderer or a villain before then, he'd have certainly listed all of that to make his street cred greater for the Touya reveal. But he didn't say anything about that.

So I guess Dabi had a job at 7-11 stocking shelves and unloading boxes from the truck. He was content with his life until he sensed his calling was near: he had to go find a group to be a failure with.

It was luck that he happened to have Skeptic so he could film his video and release it.

Not that the narrative even LET Dabi have a win there. It turns out no one in this society gives a shit about buying women to breed them for their quirks, domestic abuse, or running a eugenics program.

None of our supposed good guy characters even discussed the elephant in the room of everyone still working with, rooting for, and supporting this monster, Enji.

Well, Enji is the author's darling, so he can't be criticized too badly. So our characters we're supposed to like basically condone his awful behavior because they say nothing against it.

I'd have even accepted it if they all shunned him entirely with the exception of using his power for the war. That's at least something. As would be Naomasa cuffing the dude after the war is over.

But even in the future, Endeavor is remembered as one of the greatest heroes of all time. But in the same breath, Shoto had to work hard for years to step outside of the shadow of Endeavor's history and controversy.

So which is it? The author has his cake and eats it too. Why do people applaud this man who would go out and arrest hundreds of people so he could make loads of money, fame, and rise in the hero rankings, and then come home and terrorize his family?

L. O. L. Dabi stays losing. The author must really hate this dude.

Apparently consequences just don't exist for heroes. If you're a hero and you do a crime, the hero team will ignore it because you said sorry. And those pesky criminal charges? Nah. Don't worry about them.

You wanna know something hilarious? Nagant has probably killed more heroes than both Dabi and Tomura combined, but Deku beat Tomura to death and told him he'd never forgive him.

The LOV members ceased to be actual characters after the arc they were introduced in. They're mainly Tomura's accessories except when the author wants them to do something. You know that "Tsundere aura" Bakugo's got that has everyone ignore his monstrous behavior and cruel actions, even when they'd normally have an issue with it if another character did it? Tomura's got a weaker version of that to keep his crew together, despite the fact that these people really ought to have abandoned him.

There was no plan. He just had a vague idea that he'd destroy society…and then he lucks into everything that would enable him to do it. Think about it. What happens with the League if they don't meet Overhaul, something Garaki and AFO didn't plan for? What happens if the MLA didn't care about them? Then they just spend a while fighting Gigantomachia to try and "tame" him and then…Garaki decides Tomura has proven himself enough to be upgraded to get the AFO quirk.

Beating Overhaul and forming the PLF were things that dropped into Tomura's lap as a result of people either seeking him out or attacking him first. Overhaul murdered Magne, so he wanted some revenge. The MLA kidnapped Giran, so Twice wanted to save the dude and Shigaraki is a ride or die homie, so he went too. And I'll go on a side tangent here.

The author added a trans character just to have her be the first character to die outside of a flashback? Really? Magne gets brutally murdered, misgendered, and is used as motivation for the League only for no one to give a single fuck about her or mention her again after that arc? Jeez, Midnight's fate was practically foretold to us here.

And then you know, the MLA decided to make a really smooth brained plan of messing with the League instead of doing a stealth takeover with their organization that gathered 100,000 meta liberation warriors in complete secrecy.

You know, that's more people than the Taliban has ever had in its existence. There's real life nations that are smaller than that. This is such an insane number that it's no wonder the author decided to nerf the fuck out of Tomura by taking all those minions away from him. This number of people all being willing to kill and die for their beliefs is implicit proof that hero society is rotten and broken beyond belief.

You don't have a terror group this large form for anything other than grievous issues. We get absolutely no closure with what happened to all those MLA people, by the way. THOUSANDS of these MFERS were taken down in the first and second wars, and they scored ONE known kill: Midnight, who was already weakened and had just survived a huge fall. Hey, remember when Enji fell from a distance greater than a skyscraper and got back up with just a cool scar to show for it? But Midnight gets killed by randoms. What a joke.

Why didn't ANY of the villains train? Quirks can do whatever the plot demands they do. We have examples of people like Shinso who can just train off a quirk's weaknesses or limitations, in that he explicitly was not capable of making people talk before while brainwashed, but just…trained really hard off screen and could do that.

And we've got people like Tetsutetsu who, while he didn't start off resistant to temperatures, just gained that ability from training.

Quirks don't really seem to have hard limits beyond the creativity of the user, and if the author likes you, he'll give you a quirk evolution to make you even more powerful. Just look at what Bakugo can do after his boosts!

I want to point out that Enji didn't realize he could use his quirk to fly until he watched Bakugo do it, meaning Hellflame likely has immense potential and numerous new techniques that the guy just didn't think to try. Despite believing he couldn't ever improve enough to beat All Might on his own and that he'd hit a wall of how strong he could be.

The villains are all equally untapped potential.

Shigaraki's upgrade was because the author wrote him into a dangerous situation and this would be how he'd get out of it. And it would also increase Shigaraki's threat rating in the face of Deku's upgrades. Then the author makes the decision to give him the AFO quirk instead of Tomura using his quirk that, without fail, can destroy anything that isn't air or water and the effect spreads to anything the Decay wave touches, and stuff touched by the Decay wave. The guy could have just driven to UA, unleashed the wave, and then drove back to his base the MLA provided and been fine.

You've talked about this before: he didn't need the AFO quirk. And he really, really didn't. The heroes didn't even know about his new power, so he could have wiped cities off the map at will.

Then the author writes this guy as if he forgot he could do this entirely unless the plot says he can. Think of how many of his later fight scenes he could have ended things entirely in if he'd just bothered to decay his victims. Endeavor and Deku being the most glaring examples. Hey, Tomura. Rather than pose on top of the guy and Ryuku (who entirely disappeared like a ghost after that. She didn't die, so where'd she go, Horikoshi?) how about you turn him to dust like you love to threaten people?

How about instead of turning Gran Torino into a donut (and of course he survives), you disintegrate him?

Rather than steal Danger Sense from him, he just taps Deku's forehead and spreads Decay during their final battle. Done. The hero is dead. The only person who realistically has any chance of opposing you is gone forever, and his quirk is gone with him. Shigaraki instead decides to be a moron and chase after the death curse quirk that his master JUST died pursuing. Which, of course, gets him killed. One For All is never worth chasing and All For One would have been better off had he just tracked down Bruce one day and gunned him down with a rifle, then left the body where it was after making sure he bled out.

Toga is a case of the author wanting to create a sometimes naked vampire yandere schoolgirl serial killer fetish character but then he decided to add nuance to her later. All the cracks you see in her character? It's because he added shit on later. And it shows. Toga expresses zero real regret. Zero remorse. And no hesitation in hurting people. The Toga we see for most of the series is an unrepentant monster.

Hero plot armor prevents her from killing more people when she really should have, but again it makes you question her supposed lack of restraint. Instead of killing Cammy and drinking her dry when she stole her looks to infiltrate the exam, Toga left her alive. She also held Tsuyu and Uraraka's lives in the palm of her hand but decided not to kill them at the summer camp.

With MHA you have to accept that people are simply able to do whatever the plot demands they need to do, and they behave however the plot wants them to.

With respect to Toga's backstory, it was a tried and tested method of getting sympathy for a character by giving them abusive and neglectful parents. The author used this multiple times, Hawks being a mention from the previous arc.

But all this did was raise more questions than it answers.

And boy are the answers to those questions uncomfortable!

Okay. So, according to the Toga backstory, urges like Toga's are a natural part of having a strong quirk. And, systematically, society teaches people to be "normal" via repression.

Wow. So the previous arc had Muscular present himself as irredeemable and that he likes to kill for Fun. Deku decides to give up on the guy after barely talking to him and takes him down.

Is Muscular one of these people? Does he kill people because his quirk makes him do it? What about Moonfish? We assumed he was just a crazy guy with an obsession for cannibalism. Is that forced upon him by his quirk? This concept was introduced way too late into the manga and it was pointless anyways since the author just killed Toga off.

Why bother trying to make us care about her if the end result is that she just kills herself so she doesn't go to jail?

But back to her parents, they're not even characters. They don't even get names or faces. I assume this was done to make it seem as if they're the generic MHA citizen. So, Toga's parents are how typical people would react to a kid like Toga. You'll notice Hawks' parents both got names and faces. I assume this is what the author was going for.

It's too bad we don't actually have much of a civilian point of view in this story, and Toga was the only example of this phenomenon we follow, so we don't get to see if this was her parents terribly overreacting or if this really is something any of these people would do.

If Spinner hadn't done it, then Izuku wouldn't have gotten any real criticism for failing to save Shigarki. Because he didn't even have the courage to admit he wanted to do that out loud, and he took the first out he was given when Gran Torino told him that killing is another way to save people. No one knew what Izuku was thinking besides the remnants in his quirk. By meeting a friend of Tomura's and delivering his final words, Izuku faces some recrimination.

I like Spinner for the fact that's a radicalized young man who faced discrimination and decided to lash out. He, Toga, and Dabi really show that this society created its own monsters here.

It's just that Spinner is such a nothing character who barely does anything that he falls by the wayside. What fights does this dude get? It's a battle manga and MHA's fights are garbage to begin with, but the fact that his quirk also sucks doesn't help much. He certainly doesn't train himself to be anywhere near as powerful as Stain is. He doesn't do any killing of false heroes or enforcing Stain's will.

He ends as a follower who only survived because the author needed someone to speak to Deku because the author backtracked on letting the villains live.

I want to say that I've NEVER seen a shonen MC who is both as privileged and treated as terribly as Izuku is. The guy gets infinite free handouts, loads of plot armor, and all of his victories are spoon fed to him. He didn't even have to come up with the plan that killed Shigaraki and All For One, his ghosts did it for him.

But the narrative also treats him like a piece of shit, most of the people in his story don't like him, don't acknowledge him, and he barely has any close relationships to the point where Deku vs 1-A was more like a couple of his friends and a bunch of his acquaintances yelling platitudes at him. And then he fails at the goal he set out to do. It would be like if Naruto killed Sasuke and went back on his word after making the fact that he doesn't break promises or go back on his word his entire character.

Some people say that the lesson Deku was meant to learn was that you can't save everyone. What an utterly cynical way to end your manga where everyone has plot armor and can literally will their desires into being. Deku, Eri, Bakugo, and All Might can defy fate, and avoid their destined demises, but apparently saving the bad guy he said he was gonna save was too much.

All For One is a completely incomprehensible character and I don't even pretend to understand him. The big reveal that Decay was just a modified version of Overhaul, because apparently you can just DO THAT (no, the author will NOT elaborate further) means this MFER was sitting on the Overhaul quirk this whole time. Or at the very least had a copy of it ever since he plotted to turn Tenko to he dark side, after arranging the kid's conception.

So he just decides not to use the quirk that would let him effortlessly fix his body. Or even if he somehow couldn't, he could just merge himself with other people who have healthy organs and steal their shit. Apparently the Overhaul quirk enables you to turn yourself into a chimera of you and another person or more, as well as merge yourself into inorganic things and control them, with no chance of rejection. He wouldn't even need to steal One For All using All For One. He could just blow Izuku/All Might up into molecules, then rearrange their bodies into large, fleshy orbs that have no mouths, eyes, or limbs.

He could then graft this orb into his own body and keep it alive by connecting it to his nervous system and then use their quirk for himself.

If the plan was always for Tomura to be possessed by All For One, why even wait to give him the AFO quirk? He could have done that back at the time Izuku received OFA. The process would require Tomura to use All For One's quirk so the remnant inside of the AFO quirk could get a foothold and then possess him.

Alright, so far so good. But, this process would be completed if All For One put his quirk factor into Shigaraki. So, why wait?

Obviously, we don't have a show if AFO skips sending Tomura to the USJ and instead he just tells Shigaraki that he's going to upgrade him so he can level up and become the boss he always dreamed of being.

Izuku would have a pleasant school year and months of zero League activity, not even knowing they were a threat, before getting jumped, his quirk jacked, and then killed by "Tomura Shigaraki."

There's no point in having Tomura "learn lessons." If he exists so you can steal his body. If he was raised and groomed for the purposes of his strong will, and his endless hatred, he possessed ALL of that from when we first saw him! Everything that happened with Tomura acting as his own person was totally pointless for the purposes of AFO's plans.

But again, I don't even pretend to understand this loser.

If he wanted OFA so badly, why the hell did he let All Might escape? He killed Nana Shimura and he knew Toshinori fled with Torino. But, Toshinori didn't even change his name, and we know AFO has "friends" across the globe. What was stopping him from just showing up in America at Toshinori's apartment? He'd still be a weak 17 year old. Nothing compared to who he'd be later. AFO even showed, with the whole Tenko situation, that he's got quirks that can completely alter how he looks. Toshinori could talk to the guy daily and not even know he's really AFO.

Naturally, the answer is "so we have a TV show to watch." It's not satisfying.

The All For One we get after the Kamino arc is an absolute garbage character.

This is part of the issue with The League going from being a bunch of people with different goals and mindsets, to being Shigaraki's squad who don't really question anything and go along with his goals.

The nature of Nomu is absolutely horrific, but the League members complaining would complicate the story, so they don't. They just don't care.

Each of these required the deaths of at least two people. 1 to act as the base body, and more if there's quirks stuffed in it. AFO isn't exactly known for his mercy, so he likely has been murdering people for years, disposing of them, and then moving on with stolen quirks. Why else would he need powers to erase his presence and also alter his blood type to make him undetectable and trackable?

So the League has access to a bunch of zombie quirk soldiers and…it's nothing to them.

The time to humanize these characters was early on, rather than later. The time to give them some degree of morality or something resembling a code or sense of honor was early. The author waited too late to do it so it fell flat.

[mr-leach]

Thinking about how Ulder Ravenguard was so dead set on hating his son for not being a perfect replica of himself that he refused to listen to a single thing he said. He will not even consider listening unless you, a complete fucking stranger, step in to advocate for him, and even then it's an uphill battle. No amount of love or respect Wyll has for his father is enough to grant him any sort of grace; choosing his own path was so much of a slight in Ulder's eyes that Wyll might as well not even be his own son. The only surefire way to get him to understand is to literally break into his mind and show him what happened, and once he finally sees reason what does he do?

He immediately decides on what Wyll should do with his future now that he's back in daddy's good graces. Even sends him to go and finish a quest he himself started to prove his worth. Sure, when Wyll "fails" he acts forgiving, but his attitude is still that Wyll is just a younger version on himself and should act accordingly. Well now that you've earned forgiveness, son, you can get back to business as usual, clearly... regardless of whether that's what Wyll wants for himself or not.

Like. I have a lot of thoughts about this. For one, I have to wonder if Wyll hadn't made a pact with Mizora, or had made a pact with a divine or neutral patron rather than a devil...how long would Wyll and Ulder have actually maintained a good relationship after that night? Like, Wyll has this habit of talking about his childhood and adolescence in that...barely-fond manner. You know, where the person telling stories feels like they're sharing a sweet or funny anecdote, but to everyone else it sounds... miserable. There were parts of his upbringing that he surely enjoyed, but it is deeply overshadowed by a cloud of resentment that Wyll himself barely recognizes. He loves his father, and truly respects and looks up to him, but it's evident from the stories he shares that Ulder treated him more like a student than a son. Wyll was his protege more than his progeny, it sounds like.

And the way it affects how Wyll talks about himself is heartbreaking. He puts himself down all the time, makes self deprecating jokes, or makes unhealthy predictions of what others might think of him. The only time he doesn't...is when he talks about the Blade of Frontiers. He loves the work that he does so much, he is so passionate about being right on the front lines protecting innocents and doing away with evil, and he even takes pride in his decision to make his pact with Mizora because it's that power that he uses to help people. Like gosh, even when fretting over how others might perceive his devilish form, he concludes that, if people see him as a monster, then they'll get to watch a monster fight evil and save people's lives. It sounds cheezy as fuck but oh my god. Like talk about feeling inadequate and unloved but choosing a path for yourself that you can be proud of in spite of all that.

And then, just thinking of that reuniting exchange in and of itself, and just. You can tell just how used to being shot down Wyll is, even though he really, truly wants his father to understand him. And it takes actually forcing Ravengard to witness what happened to make any progress. Many of us wish we could project exactly what we mean or feel or experience directly into the mind of someone we're trying to get through to. And still it's like he can't see past his own selfish perception of Wyll as an extension of himself. Wyll seems satisfied in the moment, but it's apparent that he's still been misunderstood despite being forgiven by his father. It sucks.

[arcticwolfpaws]

Chapter 22: Dean’s way

Faraj’s P.O.V

I woke up dazed I felt like I’d slept in a warm bath slowly I sat up yawning the room was still dark and I had to look around the room making sure it was actually day time, light leaked in around the edge of the curtains and it looked like a sunny day I internally whined but got up none the less I got up and grabbed a change of cloths heading to take a quick shower.

As I stepped out I smelled food I paused I hadn’t actually been expecting that, I followed the scent to the main room finding the hole place dark, I paused and looked over to dick.

“Hey buddy.” he chirped smiling at me, “I figured since the weather decided to be bright, I thought It’d be better if you could actually be comfortable.” I paused Alfred would have left my room dark but all the other windows would have been.

“This… feels unnecessary” I muttered and he moved away from the stove and put a hand on my head and ruffling my hair, he was partly covered in flour.

“Maybe, so however. I want you to be comfortable, I know Slade and I know how he deals with things.” He stated bluntly, I frowned at him but he kept talking. “And I can’t imagine he did much more then make sure you didn’t burn.” I took a breath as he moved back to the stove to flip the pancake.

“He wasn’t that bad.” I told him and he froze for a moment before glancing back at me, He opened his mouth to say something but I kept going, “The worst part about it was the occasional time when he picked up something new for me to learn, but hats and sun screen were mandatory.” I told him, he pulled the pancake off the pan, “ and the whole glasses thing… yeah I fully admit that’s likely my own fault I was using my echo location to navigate.” I stated Dick was quiet for a long moment and I could tell he was thinking before he spoke, he shifted for a long moment.

“Faraj, can you be completely honest with me?” He asked and I hummed tilting my head as I kept my eyes one him. “Do you know your mother?” I was confused by the question granted… I had told Bruce I didn’t know who she was.

“Yes… and no, when I told father I didn’t know who she was I lied but I am aware she is an assassin it wasn’t something that Slade hid from me, I think word for word what he had said was, ‘your mother side of the family is very dangerous, so first you need to know how to hide and if that fails, to fight.’” I quoted and he shifted looking over at me a small frown on his face,

“Well he isn’t wrong.” He muttered before shaking his head softly and sighed before running a hand through his hair, “So you can fight….” He muttered then paused again, “Wait if you can fight what happened with those boys who threw you into the sewers?” He questioned I chuckled nervously,

“I umm well no one was supposed to know I could fight and it was bad enough that I could break someones nose… and arm.” I muttered, sheepishly but to my surprised he chuckled.

“Fair enough smart though, You have Bruce convinced that there’s no way you and white bat are one in the same.” He stated giving me a smile, I chuckled as well feeling safe to do so but his expression sharpened, “That being said, I need kept informed, I want to know what cases you’re working one who you are talking to.” He stated watching me he then made a face. “And I have a way to do it but first I’m taking you to the nest and you’re showing me just what you can do.” he told me, The nest? That was a bird joke wasn’t it… I internally sighed.

“I understand,” I told him, and he smilled ruffling my hair as he set a small stack of pancakes in front of me.

“Good, then eat up we have time before night fall and I have some investigations to do.” he said I grunted softly but didn’t say anything.

🦇 🦇 🦇 🦇 🦇

It was later that I was in a hoodie with sunglasses getting spoken to by some collage girl, as she tried to tell me that I should dye my hair, Dick was no were to be seen and I was getting sick of this.

“I mean come on I bet you’re hair would take dye really well.” she said her eyes sparkling I stepped back away from her and bumped into some one causing them to take a deep breath, I looked up and saw a tall scrawny teen with walking aids, he looked a bit like a raccoon with the way he was dressed his cloths were dirty and tattered and he had a brace on one leg, as I observed him I moved away,

“Oh sorry sir.” I muttered, hoping that he wasn’t going to snap at me but he looked around with a frown as he spoke,

“Where the hell are your parents?” He asked he sounded alarmed and I struggled to find my words, I really didn’t like that dick had walked off. “Are you homeless?” He questioned stepping closer the click of his crunch meeting my ears, gods it was to loud here between the endless sounds of chatter the crutch man and this girl.

“Oh he’s with Dick grayson.” She stated her tone defensive the teen blinked loose strands of blonde hair fell in his face as he looked between us.

“You’re a Wayne? There’s another Wayne? What the hell did I miss?” He questioned sounding surprised and stunned. She scoffed and tugged at my jacket causing my hood to fall, I grumbled and jerked away from her.

“Leave him alone,” she stated and scoffed, “Freak.” The comment was a quiet one and I wasn’t sure he heard it but I didn’t like it and stepped farther away from her.

“Is he your kid? Were you asked to watch him? If not I think I’ll ask his opinion not yours, because while he’s a kid and… well has everything that comes with that. He has a mind of his own.” He stated and I perked up, Oh I think I like this guy. I mean the comment was mildly insulting but I couldn’t blame him for that he then turned back to me and spoke again. “If you want, I can take you to admin.” At that I slowly and he started walking I was quick to follow him ignoring how the girl looked pissed at us, I sighed softly. “So Uhh why are you here?” He asked me and I sighed softly not thinking that I could get away with not saying anything this time and so as small as I sounded I spoke,

“My brother brought me… not sure why.” A half truth should work, he glanced at me giving a look that told me I didn’t fully believe me.

“Were is he?” He questioned and all I could do was shrug to be honest due to all the noise I don’t think I could have found him if I wanted to, “Yeahhh, you definitely need to see the dean.” He stated then his voice dropped lower, “And here I thought he was suppose to be nightwing,” at the mumbled we stepped into the office and I sighed relived the moment the door closed and the sound was muffled.

I looked around the room seeing only an empty desk and a heavy sigh came from my strange friend, as he say the empty desk.

“Well stay here. I’ll be back in a minute.” Like that was happening but I’d let him think what every he wanted, I waited for him to leave and walked over to the window hoping to just be able to slip home but the other door in the room opened and a man stepped out I turned and faced him startled and he looked just as surprised as I felt.

“Oh… Hello young man you look… a bit young to be here alone.” He said choosing his words carfully.

“I lost my big brother.” I mumbled dropping my head and looking up to him his features softened and he dropped to one knee, I stepped back honestly just not wanting him to touch me.

“It’s alright son, Who’s your brother?” He asked gently, I shifted a little, damn this isn’t how I wanted this to go. “It’s alright son,” He said softly, Oh this was about to be interesting wasn’t it?

“Dick grayson.” I muttered and he paused for a moment before pausing and clearing his throat,

“Alright, Give me one moment to pull up his file and I can call him.” He stated and I nodded letting him do what he needed.

I sat in a chair waiting for Dick it felt demeaning to be handed crayons and paper, but here I was waiting for my older bother… I swear if this man starts small talk…

“So, are you adopted or..?” He questioned I sighed internally, Dick you better get her soon. I thought to myself as I looked up to the strange man, it was only a moment later that the door opened, I turned and saw Dick thank gods.

“Hey!” He rushed over grabbing the sides of my face, this seemed dramatic didn’t it? “Are you okay? What happened I thought you were behind me.” He asked he was speaking quickly I think trying to make sure I couldn’t respond before he turned to the dean and thanked him practically dragging me from the room before he sighed running a hand through his hair and speaking far more calmly, “Are you alright?” He asked gently and it was my turn to run my hand through my hair pulling on it lightly as I nodded.

“Physically yes, Mentally I want you to throw me down a well for the next two days.” I muttered and he chuckled,

“Oh come on I doubt it was that bad,” He stated and I shot him a dirty look and sighed,

“He treated me like a child.” I pointed out but I caught the amused look on Dicks face and I sighed he didn’t need to say it to remind me that I was a child but still I hated it. “I mean like a dumb child, come on I could probably do your chemistry homework if I wanted.” I told him and he gave me a look that said he doubted me. I paused, Should I tell him that? Was that something safe to share? I didn’t know but he said himself that I needed to trust him. “Look I know you doubt me but… I actually probably could, I make all my own reactions when it come my tools.” I told him and he put his hands up.

“I don’t doubt it actually.” he said keeping his voice low allowing it to get lost in the noises around us, “But I do think you need to be careful with that,” He paused a moment then added, “And even if I did doubt it aren’t you in a.p chem?” He asked and I paused and nodded slowly I had forgotten about that. He smiled softly, and ruffled my hair again.

[allpiesforourown]

Hey, so sorry to be using your inbox like a fuckin confessional, but getting that dream thing off my chest literally cleared my skin and I've just got this itch that needs to be addressed so I'm taking it out on you again. Reflecting on this thought the second after I had it made me think, "Oh, I get what Shen Yuan was on about now," and so here I am, typing this shit out ig. fucking embarrassing, anyway.

So, like. I watch those gacha react videos on youtube. Like a concerning amount of those gacha react videos, man. I fuckin love them so much, even if I wouldn't admit to it under pain of death to anyone I know or love. I have a seperate youtube channel I made under a fake email that I made specifically to watch them. It's bad. I remember back when it was just me and the FF.net filter system before they added the 'Without' section at the bottom and trying to find crossover content in the LoZ tag between games. 10th circle of hell; my 13th reason. Gacha react videos in concept are heavensent for my inner child, and on the rare occasion I find one of those 'fandom react' series that are active or complete and well done, it grants me joy on par with nigh nothing else.

This being said, I understand that the main demographic for this content tends to be a handful of years younger than me. I've seen community posts on some channels mentioning their time in college, but these are few and far between in my experience. I appreciate these teen's artistry in putting these all together, because god knows I'm not, but like,,, --and I know I sound like an ass right now but bare with me-- it feels like with the conclusion of Arcane came a flood of reaction videos with no real substance. I've watched upward of what feels like thirty seperate videos --at least,-- on the show and its the same ten to twenty edits I've seen on repeat and I'm watching them by pressing the skip key and catching half the dialouge only to come out the other side tired and a little miffed. Then I feel bad, because they created something and all I did was mindlessly consume and feel entitled to complain. Ugh.

Now, Because I've been cycling through these almost cookie cutter videos for ages --I used Arcane vids as an example before because its recent and relevant, but I do have this take for a whole slew of the fandoms I watch react videos on, and I picked this addiction up in 2021 so it's been a minute-- I've begun predicting the dialouge before it's come up and projecting what I hope the author will say. If I see a video with, for example, Giyuu from kny seeing Sabito in a video, I hope to see shock, yes, but also to see him comment or think about how he hasn't seen his face in so long, you know? Just... things that aren't just "OMG!!" or making the characters eyes widen. I've found now that I seek out these videos for the slim chance that they'll provide me with the satisfaction I get from these moments of true understanding with the presented characters.

Yes, I know that there really isn't any "true" way to understand a character, and that while we are all entitled to our own interpretations of media, the insistence that mine alone is more "right" or "correct" is bullshit, but I'm not saying that my preference has to be law, only that I get a rush of happiness whenever something I like happens to pop up in a video that I was already checking out of because it failed to really,,,,wow me. This is my bias speaking, of course, but its also the reality of my situation borne from overconsumption of this genre.

But anyway, onto the main point of how this relates to svsss. I was watching a video just a minute ago --an Arcane video, big shocker I know-- where there was a line from the creator's Vander character about how he wasn't ready to see Vi so grown up, because to him she's still his little girl. I thought, "Yes!!! This!! He's a father! He's showing realistic reactions to seeing your child suddenly grown up, and while he's proud of the woman she became, he still loves her as she is in the moment!!" ....I then watched the rest of the reaction, and was left cold and disappointed in the end. I'd clicked for Viktor, got three videos of him in a twenty minute reaction when the rest was the same four edits of jinx on repeat. Love you Jinx, but holy fuck. I thought then, "God, what a waste of potential." The creator of the video had insightful dialouge, clearly a decent grasp on character interaction, and the drive to create the video in the first place, but settled for pumping out another copy of the same video they've released three times previous on the same channel.

Then I thought, "Oh, like PIDW."

I need to get a life, Tumblr user allpiesforourown. If your blog wasn't so damn entertaining, I might even go out and touch grass one day. Take responsibility, damn.

(ty for reading my rant, if you did. have a good day regardless.)

I think you watching gacha react videos for characterization might be the one and only thing more baffling than Shen Yuan reading porn for plot. Hope you find gacha videos of Vander teaching his daughter how to ride a bike

[burningcheese-merchant]

ok, so as someone who also tends to use strength over smarts like Matar Paneer Cookie, I tend to think that maybe it’d be better if I preferred books to fights. When I try to read books for assignments though, I develop a headache that will ruin the rest of my day and sometimes blurs my vision. I don’t expect Matar Paneer to have something like this (cause I cannot torture her like that) but maybe a more watered down version. Yknow, for the mandatory ’my older sibling’s better than me’ thing that every little sibling has at least once.

just a though tho, love your work!

Thank you ❤️ I'm always glad to hear that my nonsense brings some measure of joy to someone haha. Thank you also for sharing your thoughts, I enjoy having discussions like this with people! Understanding and learning from others is a gift we all take for granted (and I always welcome an excuse to vomit word salad lmaooooo)

I think I understand what you mean. Matar Paneer isn't stupid, far from it (same with her father. I always imagined Burning Spice to be quite intelligent, if not outright wise, at least to some degree. He can't NOT be, not when he was the Herald of Change/History, you know? Buff does not automatically mean dumb). It's not even really that she dislikes reading or anything more cerebral like that (she actually really likes being told stories haha. As a child, she often asks Pepper Jack to read her something before bed (and him above either of their parents or anyone else, because she likes the way he reads things the most). Not because she doesn't like to read, but because she likes how others might approach reading/telling her things). She just has her own way of doing things, you know? She's energetic and rather reckless at times. Those often tend to naturally nudge someone away from "calmer" activities, but that doesn't mean they can't do them at all. Strength over smarts is not some great moral failing, nor vice versa. Different people do things differently. The key is learning to find balance when possible. (It's not that Jack shuns strength, either. He is a very tough and capable warrior, even while so young. He carries a dangerous weapon everywhere he goes lol. He'd just rather solve something with his wits if he can. Just how he does things, nothing more nothing less)

As for the "my older sibling is better than me" thing, Paneer actually does wrestle with that to some degree, and it's arguably worse because she adores Jack so much. Jack is her hero. It's not Golden Cheese that she looks up to the most, it's not Burning Spice, it's not Mozzarella or Nutmeg Tiger or Hollyberry or anyone else. It's him. It's her brother. Everyone thinks so highly of the kid, Paneer included (perhaps most of all). Jack is smart, Jack is strong, Jack is disciplined, Jack is this, Jack is that. And Paneer does not begrudge him any of these things; no one cheers for Jack harder than her. It's just... compared to him, who is she? Who is Matar Paneer? What can SHE do? She loves him, but she doesn't love feeling like she's in his shadow all the time. She doesn't resent him at all for this, she doesn't hold anything against him (that's not really how she is tbh), she only holds it against herself. She's mad at herself for feeling inferior. She wants to be cool and strong, too; she wants to be up on that pedestal right next to her brother, not knock him off and take it for herself. She just doesn't know how to do it. Both children hold themselves to very high standards and hurt themselves in similar ways by doing so. They will eventually come into their own and develop the self-confidence they both need, but it will take time and several important life events for them to get there. Paneer will also eventually understand that it's not healthy to put someone on a pedestal like that (it isn't fair to her OR to Jack), and she is just as great as he is and always has been. But again. It will take time and character growth.

She'll get kickstarted on that journey for real after what happens to Jack when they're older. Poor kids, both of them. He loses something important, she watches her hero fall for the first time ever (and when she never imagined it would even be possible. Pepper Jack is great, but he is not a god. She fully realizes and understands this the hard way)...

[winterlogysblog]

Overanalyzing King's POV

Part 2

Link to Part 1

Let's talk about Adoption

So Kiane adopted Mertyl and it's pretty obvious that it's a kept secret and that only a few people know the truth. Which is fine, in adoption parents tend to keep it a secret until the child is ready and prepared to know the truth.

And here's the deal, if King and Diane were just a normal Fairy and Giant couple that's all they have to worry about, but that's not the case here. King is the well the King and Diane is the Queen, they're royals and I don't think the fairies would be too pleased to know that their first prince is actually a human oh and not just any human. The human that was switched with their actual fairy prince.

Realistically, if Kiane we're to have told Mertyl that he's adopted. He'll still be in same situation, probably even worse. Fairies are already on his case, questioning his relation to Kiane. "Are you really their kid?" "You don't look like them at all!" Just imagine if Mertyl being their adopted kid is common knowledge. Their quips would be worse and would hurt Mertyl more. Kiane is trying to protect Mertyl from this, that's why they kept it from everybody.

At least now, yes they say these things to Mertyl but they acknowledge him as their prince because that's what they've been told and that's how he acts. They're actually really cool with Mertyl it's just to them, Mertyl is weird looking. So, even if the truth were to come out it wouldn't matter to them cause yes Mertyl is human but he's still Mertyl he's still their prince.

Now, why didn't Kiane tell Mertyl anything even though it's been 18 years. Cause Mertyl isn't ready yet, I mean based on Diane's expressions she knows that this secret is long overdue but in a way they can't do it cause it'll only break Mertyl.

Mertyl has always been insecure about himself and Kiane is trying to make him feel secure, shower him with love and affection in the best ways they could so that even if the truth would come out Mertyl knows that his parents loves him literally no matter what.

And they've done this, as shown in Mertyl's flashback but Mertyl still feels the way he does.

In a world where Mertyl is secure in his place, that he knows the love that his parents, siblings and everyone has for him. There will be no conflict between him and Nasiens. In this world Mertyl would actually feel happy that Nasiens is at their doorstep and would actually help and guide Nasiens into learning about their true identity.

Unfortunately, that's not the case here.

Mertyl saw King gave the Drug of Yore to Nasiens. Now this scene is just filled to the brim with misunderstangs that my only hope is for Sixtus to use his brain and talk it out with his pops.

Mertyl felt betrayed at this moment. This is his worst nightmare came to life.

There's this medicine that in his mind can cure him, can help him and Sixtus reassured him saying that their father is a kinder King than anyone out there and he'll give it to him.

Notice the phrasing here, they know their father's responsibilities as King, they can differentiate between his two roles. Yes, he's their father and he'll do anything for them but he's also the Fairy King, a being that has immense responsibilities and power. They're aware that there are some things that he can't do for them because he's the Fairy King.

But there he saw, his father giving the very thing he came there to ask for to Nasiens just like that. This is the ultimatum for him, so he ran off. Without knowing the full truth behind his father's actions.

Then, we have Nasiens, I love you but baby you kinda messed up on this one. He just jumped to his assumption here.

When King gave the drug, Nasiens refused and claimed that he's rather cruel for letting him run around and make medicine for Percy and fail everytime for the past 2 years only to give this to him now and argued that he should have given it to Mertyl.

Granted, Nasiens doesn't know that Mertyl is human so I guess good on you for having Mertyl's back. But Nasiens you can't just assume these things without knowing the full story, let the man explain. Regardless of King's reasons (I already made a post about it check it out if you wanna know my thoughts) in my eyes he made the thoughest decision a father could ever make here.

At this very moment, King is letting Nasiens go.

King knows what Nasiens is here for and he knows that the moment Percy wakes up they'll leave. King and Diane have suspected and confirmed to themselves that Nasiens is their kid. But Nasiens doesn't really need them, he's fine, he has friends that cares for him, he has hopes and aspirations, he grew up to be such a great person. To King, seeing Nasiens the way they are now and being able to take care of him for 2 years and help him with his goal, that is more than enough. King is letting Nasiens go because he knows that Mertyl needs them the most.

And here's the thing, I have a huge feeling that King decided on this a long time ago, that's why he didn't explicitly tell Nasiens anything for 2 years. And look at King's face here, he seems content, happy even.

King is willing to let Nasiens go without even saying that he's their father, without saying that they're family, without a hug, without a good heart to heart, not even a chance to hear the word Father from them, without any closure. None of that. Because King chose Mertyl

King chose Mertyl cause that's his son

King chose Mertyl despite the fact that he has finally found his firstborn

This is a sacrifice he's willing to make because that's how much King loves Mertyl

[co-mixed]

Who will rid us of Moon Knight? 

It’s the 1980s and Moon Knight is just a one-time adversary-turned-ally in a Werewolf by Night comic book. He got some solo stories but he’s still mostly a question Marc (oh yes, I did). So what could go right if he got a solo book? 

Moon Knight was introduced as a mysterious mercenary hired by a group of rich baddies to capture Jack Russel (the title Werewolf). They gave him the signature costume and insisted that he call himself Moon Knight — something that Marc himself didn’t quite appreciate. But this origin didn’t stick around for too long and when the time had come for Moon Knight to swing into the pages of his own title, his story changed as well. The retcon even tried to honor that early story, turning the whole thing into Moon Knight’s operation. Instead of a sudden change of heart, he now died and came back to life with the help of a certain deity. Back then, Khonshu was a silent statue that may or may not have had any extra powers. But it was enough to birth Marc’s identity crisis that later was turned into DID. 

The new look

So Marc is gliding through the streets of New York, looking for trouble. Despite the city being infested with superheroes of all kinds, trouble he still finds.

When he gives up his merc ways, he adopts the persona of a rich boy Steven Grant who occasionally drives around in a cab and calls himself Jake Lockley. 

There is a strong early Batman vibe during these years, only Marc is struggling with more identities. His main one is Steven but he is way more comfortable with Jake. That’s not something he admits, it’s taken out of the creator’s notes. And a part of why he refuses to confront or even consider that fact is Marlene. 

Marlene is Steven’s girlfriend, and when I say Steven’s I mean just his. Jake calls her “lady”, and with Marc, it’s even more complicated. He was one of the mercenaries who killed her father, he was also the one who saved her from the same fate and we never learn how, but they do end up together. Marlene is the 1980s version of a badass – she fights, she’s not helpless, and while she does occasionally try on the flowery hat of a damsel in distress, that doesn’t happen often. 

In the beginning, she mostly waits for him by the bathtub (and I’m not joking, Steven has a bath in his bedroom and that bath serves as a secret entrance for Moon Knight). As the story progresses, though, we learn more about her but we’ll get to that. 

We mostly don’t interact with Marc - he is the one side MK is running away from and considers to be dead. Truth is, he replaced Marc with both Jake and Moon Knight. One satisfies the thirst for violence and the other is a simple down-to-earth guy, just like Marc was. Marc himself, he died in that tomb next to the statue of Khonshu. 

Marc’s lifestyle is what’s put a rift between him and his family, it got pretty bad too but what I like is that he doesn’t get that beautiful reunion. He doesn’t get anything — he can’t make peace with his brother or his father. Marc has to live with his mistakes lingering around him and that’s another reason he’s so eager to become someone else. If it was up to Marlene, he’d stay as Steven and give up Moon Knight. But we know better, he can’t do that (the Moon will haunt him). The only part of Marc MK is not getting rid of is ironically the baddies from his past.

Backup dancers 

Moon Knight is trying to help everyone else and fails quite often at that. I think that’s what I like about him. He can compromise, he operates in the grey area where he can let a murderer go if the murder is justified. His justice is never black-and-white. Like the Moon, it has spots. 

But he has a backup team to keep him balanced. To help all three personas survive and function. 

Marc has his old friend Frenchie. Frenchie hangs around the helicopter waiting to pick up MK from wherever and the only thing we really know about him is that he had the love of his life and he lost her. 

Steven has Marlene.

But Jake is the most outgoing of all. He hangs out at Gena’s diner, where he orders food and never eats it. He comes to Crawley (a street dweller) for information, and he even knows a cop (although that’s Moon Knight). 

It’s a big cast of characters and all of them get their own moments in the center of the story. Those moments though, are often tragic.  

Crosses 

While other comics of the time are careful with death, this one never shies away from it. Almost every character has a loss to face and each story is quite brutal. Redemption is never a given, certainly not for everyone, and that’s the leitmotif of the whole run. The good fight never truly stops not for Moon Knight, not for anyone. There probably isn’t enough good for Marc to do to erase his past. 

MK’s early stories have a similar vibe to Ann Nocenti’s Daredevil run. It’s always something socially relevant, from nazi sympathizers to crime on the streets as a result of poor economy. Moon Knight is a hero of the people, and his baddies are either unfriendly neighborhood criminals or some overseas crime lords. 

As the run finds its rhythm though, the genre changes. It now borders on mysticism and touches upon horror without crossing the lines of realism. It maintains this grounded approach, the possibility that it all could actually happen. In the world of Khonshu, Moon Knight is still very skeptical when it comes to magic, so his team-up with Strange feels like a door to the bigger universe of superheroes, not just street vigilantes. 

Brushes

There is no talking about Moon Knight without his significant look. For half of the run Bill Sienkiewicz serves as the lead artist, and that’s reason no.1 why this run is a must-read. If nothing else (and there is definitely something else), then check it for the stunning art. You can see how with every issue the visual style matures and changes, finding the perfect tone and balancing between impressionism and pop art. There is magic in these panels, and it makes more sense to see them than to talk about them. 

Stunning covers are present too. 

Early Moon Knight is not Moon Knight as we know him today. It’s a different book and it’s a product of the 80’s. It’s a special vibe and something you have to be ready to submerge into. If you are, you’re gonna have a hell of a great time.