#like understandable but also so frustrating

[pixierainbows]

Pixie been trying out new therapist for some months now . who have already have experience with people like Pixie .

This therapist do seem be familiar with cognitive and intellectual disability , and of severe early childhood trauma .

Pixie said want 2 things . the right diagnosis word . And . How to fix them things that happen That Pixie not remember .

Today finally therapist said the diagnosis words and Pixie is ? panicking ? overwhelmed. Not want that word , need something easier to fix … and … Something more simple so Pixie can understand

Is dissociative identity disorder . and . therapist sounded very sure . Guardian Wizard also think same .

Pixie maybe … scared ? or . Some kind of upset . not understanding not remembering . is so hard , scary , angry frustration, something like.

what is Pixie supposed do now ??

[taojjang]

riize in an argument

pairing: bf!riize x reader, genre: angst, warnings: cussing, jealousy, medication, lovebombing, (light) forced affection pink text > reader blue text > riize

♡⸝⸝ getting into petty arguments with your boyfriend

shotaro . . . can't understand why you don't trust him.

the two of you had just gotten home from a dinner date, which shotaro thought had gone well but apparently not. shotaro was confused as to why you were suddenly silent during the drive home. "are you tired, honey? you're not talking much." he figured you were just sleepy since you didn't respond, only quietly resting your head against the window.

after the two of you changed from your date clothes and unwound for the night, shotaro grew concerned. he could tell you were upset about something, but he couldn't tell what. he kept poking at you, reaching to pry at your silence. "did i upset you honey? did i say something wrong?" you took a deep breath and sat on the edge of the bed, finally deciding to come out of your silence. "i don't like how you were talking to the waitress." shotaro tilted his head and stepped closer to you. "what do you mean?" "you know what i mean, shotaro. you saw how she was looking at you. you were even giving in.. you flirted back." shotaro slightly furrowed his eyebrows and lightly held your hand. "what flirting, honey? i was only being nice to her." you began growing frustrated by how innocent he was acting. "you're just so oblivious sometimes, taro. you think i couldn't see the looks you were exchanging with her? she was all over you, you should've known her intentions." shotaro scoffed and let go of your hand. he felt quite hurt that he spent so much effort taking you out for a nice dinner just for you to accuse him of dedicating his time to another woman. "she was just being nice and i was returning her energy. you're just overanalyzing like you always do."

as soon as those words left shotaro's lips, your heart began to sting. taro's eyes softened as he realized what he'd said to you. you nodded and grabbed your pillow, standing up to leave. you kept silent knowing the ache in your throat would soon turn to tears. taro held your hand and tried pleading with you; "i didn't mean it like that honey, i just-" "no, it's fine." you pulled your wrist out of his weak grip and muttered a defeated "goodnight" before leaving to spend the night on the couch. once the door shut behind you, taro sat down on the bed and let out a shaky breath as he realized how much he'd just hurt you.

eunseok . . . can't tolerate your disobedience.

he was cleaning the bathroom when he saw your pill case sitting on the counter. he sighed and snatched the full case off of the counter, walking to the living room to confront you.

you sat confused as your boyfriend held the box of pills in your face. "hm..?" "darling, how many times do i have to tell you to take your medicine?" he sighed and looked down at the 3 days worth of forgotten pills in the tin. "i'm not your doctor, i can't keep reminding you. it's getting tiring." you sighed and threw your head back in frustration. this was a common thing for eunseok to bring up every so often, but it was getting exhausting. "then you don't have to keep reminding me, seok. i'm also tired of it." eunseok scoffed and bit his lip. "tired of what? me looking out for you?" you wanted to roll your eyes at his condescending tone. you always hated how arrogant he gets, thinking he's so much smarter than you and telling you off like you're a misbehaving toddler. "no, seok. i'm just tired of taking these stupid pills all the time. i'll live without them for a few days. i don't like it when you're bossy like this." eunseok bit his lip at your ungrateful tone grating at his ears. he looked down at you with a stern glare, squinting in annoyance. "making sure you're healthy is being bossy? you're being a brat, y/n. i wouldn't have to be 'bossy' if you listened to me and at least tried to get better. you're just lazy." you felt your blood boil as you poked your tongue through your cheek. you were far more than angry at this point. you looked up at him and huffed, "i'm not lazy for being sick of taking pills every day. all i want is for you to chill out and stop shoving pills in my face all the time. i'll be fine." eunseok sighed and nodded, tossing the case on the table in front of you. "alright, then. i'll stop caring so much. fuck, i can't stand you sometimes."

it's not rare for the two of you to get mean during arguments, but it is rare for eunseok to say something that hurts you this much. you didn't expect to feel your heart aching after simply choosing not to take your medication. despite wanting to snap back at him, all you could do was nod, snatching the pills off the counter and swallowing them in one go. even after saying something so blunt, eunseok couldn't help but worry about your sudden silence and compliance. you stood up and put the pill case into the pocket of your hoodie. you swallow back a mixture of frustrated insults and hurt tears as you look up at him with glossy eyes. "i'll leave you alone since you can't stand me so badly." you coldly walk past him to the front door, slamming it behind you. eunseok sighed and walked back to the bathroom, hoping to distract himself from the idea that he'd just crossed the line.

sungchan . . . can't tolerate your mood swings.

as much as he hates to admit it, you're hard to handle. no matter how well he treats you or how much he spoils you, you'll still come home and find a reason to be sad. but he can't understand that sometimes you just need time alone. you had a long day at work and simply wanted to come home and recharge, looking forward to lying down and maybe watching your comfort show. but sungchan had other plans for you. as much as you love him, it gets tiring to be suffocated with cuddles when you just need time alone. today, you couldn't suppress your discomfort. you just didn't expect sungchan to get so angry.

"my fault for wanting to comfort you when you're upset." sungchan let go of your waist and moved to the opposite side of your bed. you sighed and sat up, turning to him. "thank you, sungchan. i'm really not mad at you, i just need time alone sometimes." you tried reassuring him once you heard his pained tone, but to no avail. "you ever think i need comfort, too? i had a horrible day and you can't even hug me for a few minutes?" for a second, you thought he was joking. but once you saw the angered expression on his face, your smile dropped. "baby, are you serious? i had a shitty day, too. all i need is some time alone. why are you taking it so personally?" "because it feels personal, y/n. you're pushing me away when i was just trying to make you feel better." you felt almost sickened by how ridiculous he sounded. you've already had a terrible day and you certainly weren't in the mood to argue. "that's not what i mean, sungchan, and you know it. all i'm asking is to be alone." sungchan seemingly felt the same way, leaving one last message before avoiding the conflict. "fine, didn't know i bothered you so much. don't bother coming to me later."

sungchan stormed out of the room. soon, the echo of his bedroom door slamming shut rang through the house. though you got what you wanted, your bed began feeling empty. you wanted to sleep it off, but the guilt now felt heavier than your fatigue.

wonbin . . . can't fathom the idea of losing.

wonbin is so adorably whiny. so adorable that you like to tease him just to hear him cry "stop it!" you admit to being a little too harsh sometimes when he gets frustrated with you, but you can't help yourself. wonbin is just too cute :( when the two of you play games, he's always whining about losing. if he's winning, he'll be giggling and having the time of his life— but god forbid it's the opposite.

"ah, this is getting annoying!" wonbin whined, moving farther from the table. you laughed and gestured at the pile of cards in front of you. "your turn! come on, at least try to beat me!" wonbin sighed and tossed another card on the table. before he knew it, your cards were almost used up and you were this close to winning the game. "this isn't fun anymore." wonbin groaned, leaning back with a pout on his face. you sighed and joked, "baby, you're always complaining. such a sore loser!" but something about your teasing ticked wonbin off. his sulky demeanor soon turned bitter and he gave you a resentful glare. "i wouldn't have to complain if you didn't get all cocky every time you won. you never give me a chance." wonbin's whiny complaints were beginning to get to you. you felt as if he was blaming you for his losses. "i'm just playing the game. it's not my fault i'm good at it." you immediately regretted your defense when the deck of cards were slammed onto the table in front of you. "gosh, i fucking get it y/n." wonbin stood up and stormed off, mumbling "this is why i can't do anything with you."

you felt your heart tear at his empty-hearted words. with the slam of his bedroom door, your tears began falling down your face. you never thought a simple card game would drive wonbin to this level of annoyance. you stood up and put the cards back into the box while considering whether to apologize or leave him be. you stand in front of his bedroom door, hesitantly muttering through your shaky breath, "i'm gonna go home now." you stood there like an idiot waiting for a reply, but you heard nothing other than the tapping of your tears dripping onto the hardwood floor.

seunghan . . . can't understand why his affection hurts you.

it's rare for the two of you to argue since seunghan travels extra lengths to make sure you're happy. after all, you're his entire world and he'd give up anything to keep you satisfied. but that's why so many problems go unanswered. whenever there's an issue between the two of you, seunghan just tugs you into a hug and tries to take your mind off of your frustration while the problem sits in the dust.

"it's called love bombing," you explain to seunghan, who was staring at you with confused yet hurt eyes. "i know you're just trying to make me happy, but it's bringing up so many more problems than we need, love." seunghan looked down at your hands and furrowed his eyebrows. "well, how? does my affection not fix anything? wouldn't you rather cuddle than argue all night?" you sighed and bit your lip in frustration. seunghan had expected you to agree, but his heart began hurting once you shook your head. "that's the problem, seunghan. making up without resolving anything is only making things worse for us. you need to talk to me, love. i can't keep kissing you to forget how hurt i am." seunghan felt all of his efforts go to waste. he'd truly hoped his affection could mend every rift between you two, but he was mistaken. seunghan picked up his phone from the bed and stood up. "i'm sorry, y/n. i just thought maybe my love would be enough to fix things."

seunghan turned around and made his way to the bedroom door, utilizing every ounce of strength in him to refrain from kissing you goodnight. "i promise i'll work on communicating, just... not yet. i don't know if i can speak to you right now. goodnight." seunghan left feeling shattered and simply exhausted from the confrontation. though you'd finally been able to address a longstanding issue, you felt everything but relief. now, both you and your crushed boyfriend wouldn't sleep a wink.

sohee . . . can't understand the concept of distance.

these past few days, sohee's noticed how different you've been acting. you've been coming to his house less and when he'd visit you, your attention was never completely his. worried, sohee brought up his concern to you, you brushing it off and telling him it's exam season, you've just been super drained from school. it all started to make sense, but that didn't solve any of his concerns. if anything, he was even more worried for your wellbeing, wondering how you could care for yourself if you don't even have the time to sit and talk with him for more than 10 minutes. so he began coming over more often to take care of you and keep your house tidy while you worked hard on your laptop. all of this hard work, yet you wouldn't let him sleep over.

"what..? why can't i?" sohee asked, hand frozen reaching for the pajamas he'd brought. "i'm just so exhausted, baby, i'm sorry. maybe you could sleep over when my exams are all finished..?" sohee was confused. he started to believe you weren't tired of the exams, but him. you noticed the sullen look forming on his face. you place your hand on his cheek and sent him a reassuring yet weak smile. "it's nothing personal, alright? i'm just tired." you'd expected sohee to understand, but his eyes shot up to you with an unfamiliar dark glint in them. "but you're making it personal, y/n. you can't even look at me when i'm beside you, not even for a second. are you tired of your work or me?" your heart rate began rapidly rising as sohee grew more and more frantic. "what makes you think i'm tired of you? i told you, i'm just tired. i want to rest alone, is that so terrible? i'm only-" "you don't have to keep making up excuses. i'll leave if you want me to but i'm not gonna let you lie to my face. stop sugarcoating it and tell me, y/n, you're just tired of me, aren't you?" you wanted to tell him he was wrong; he was the only escape you had from your excruciatingly repetitive schedule, yet he only believed you wanted to get rid of him. you tried to explain your feelings, yet all you could manage to do was scream, "you're not listening to me!" sohee scoffed at your sudden yelling. he bit his lip and picked up his bags, muttering, "there's nothing to listen to. there's no excuse you can make for not wanting anything to do with me."

you panicked as sohee left the room. you wanted to explain to him that he was completely mistaken and he was all you needed, but he wouldn't let you speak. you sighed as the front door slammed shut, the cold air leaking inside and stinging your tear-stained cheeks.

anton . . . can't let go of even the smallest slip-ups.

don't get me wrong— anton is the most forgiving boyfriend in the world. he could still smile and give you a goodnight kiss even if you ate the leftovers he'd been saving for dinner. but small things you do can lead him to make drastic assumptions about your relationship. last night, you were so exhausted that you'd forgotten to say your nightly "i love you" before hanging up on him. of course, you love him to death, but you were simply so tired after the horrible day you'd had that it'd slipped your mind since all you could think about was your bed. while you were knocked out cold, anton was sitting with his knees pressed against his chest, wondering if he'd done something wrong to not deserve an i-love-you. your poor baby is just a chronic overthinker.

"do you still love me..?" anton asked, sitting beside you on your bed while gently holding your hand. you let out a sleepy giggle, slowly nodding. "of course i do, silly. what makes you ask?" anton swallowed back his uncertainty and explained, "i don't know... you just didn't say 'i love you' last night before you hung up. i thought maybe i did something wrong." you let out a long sigh and stroked the back of his hand with your thumb. "that means nothing, dummy. i was just so tired, i'm sorry. i love you, okay?" things should've ended here, but anton just could not brush off his insecurity. "but you didn't say it..! it's such a normal thing now, how could you forget to say it? do you really not love me anymore?" anton was deeply hurt that you forgot such a crucial part of your regular routine with him, but you didn't realize how important this was to him. it only hurt to know all of your efforts to make him happy were blown away by this minuscule mistake. you'd been so busy and stressed with how packed your schedule was. nevertheless, you still tried your hardest to make time for your boyfriend. yet this one mistake lead him to believe you had no love for him. you were beyond frustrated. "i've been trying so hard to make sure you feel loved, anton. i keep in contact with you all day no matter how occupied i am and i still find time to cook dinner for you while i still have shitloads of homework waiting for me. how do i not love you?" anton was taken aback by the intimidating change in tone. your sudden anger only worsened his anxious overthinking. but of course, he remained avoidant. anton let go of your hand and nodded, looking down at his hand. "i'm really sorry, y/n. i didn't mean to make you angry. goodnight, love you."

you didn't realize your anger had scared him off until he left your room with tears in his eyes. regret pooled in your stomach and you began feeling sick. nothing hurt more than seeing that inconsolable look on your baby's face. tears made their way to your eyes as your mind traced the idea that you were the worst girlfriend you could possibly be.

—

(a/n: my first time writing angst..! i hope this was okay... it hurts so much writing angst without a happy ending :( if you're like me and need closure after every angst you read, there's a part two coming! do not fret my sensitive sisters 🙂‍↕️)

[latenightreadingpdf]

Knock on the Door - Spencer Reid

₊‧⁺˖⋆ Masterlist ⋆˖⁺‧₊

Summary: In the midst of an intense investigation, Spencer and Derek bring you into protective custody after a disturbing discovery links you to their case. As you navigate the unexpected situation, Spencer’s calm presence offers reassurance, sparking an unexpected connection amid the chaos.

⋆˖⁺‧₊☽◯☾₊‧⁺˖⋆

The quiet street was a far cry from the usual high-stakes BAU scene, but the tension in the air made Spencer’s skin prickle with unease. He glanced at Derek, who was already preparing to knock on another door, exuding his usual calm confidence.

"This one could be a lead," Derek muttered, showing a slight glint of hope in his eyes as he raised his hand to knock. The case had been dragging on, and frustration was growing with each unanswered question.

When the door opened, Spencer noted the faint hint of confusion in your expression. Derek immediately flashed his badge, his tone respectful but firm. "Ma’am, I'm Agent Derek Morgan. This is my colleague, Dr. Spencer Reid. We’re with the FBI."

Your eyes darted between the two of them, registering the serious expressions they wore. "The FBI? What's going on?"

"Have you had any strangers come to your door recently trying to sell you something?"

A flicker of recognition passed over your face, and Spencer leaned in, catching the shift. "Actually, yes,” you said, brows furrowing. “A guy came by yesterday… He gave me his card.”

Spencer and Derek shared a look. "Do you still have that card?" Spencer asked, trying to keep the urgency out of his voice.

"Yeah, I think so. Let me grab it." You turned back into the house, leaving the door partially open, and returned a moment later with a card in hand. As Derek took it from you, he confirmed with a nod that it matched the cards left at the other crime scenes.

You looked between them, anxiety creeping into your voice. "What is going on? Who is this guy?"

Spencer’s voice softened, his gaze meeting yours directly. "We believe he's a dangerous criminal who may be responsible for several recent homicides. His method involves gaining entry to homes under false pretenses."

Your face paled as the weight of his words sank in. Derek placed a reassuring hand on your shoulder. "We need to take you back to the station to make sure you’re safe. There are some steps we’d like to take to ensure you’re protected while we gather more information."

"Safe? Is he going to try and kill me?"

Derek’s expression turned serious. "We have reason to believe he might try to come back, and it’s important we get ahead of him."

A sense of dread settled over you as you let their words sink in. You followed them to the car, feeling your stomach twist with a mix of fear and disbelief. As you settled into the backseat, Spencer turned to give you a reassuring nod.

“Just so you know,” he began, his tone gentle, “we’ll have officers posted near your home to ensure he doesn’t have the chance to get in. We’re taking every precaution.”

“Thanks,” you murmured, your voice barely above a whisper. “It’s just… a lot.”

“Understandable,” Spencer said, glancing at you with a sympathetic look. “We’ll also have you meet with a sketch artist and undergo a cognitive interview. It’s standard procedure, and it might help us learn more about him.”

You looked out the window, processing the reality of the situation. The quiet chatter between Derek and Spencer drifted over you as they discussed possible motives, patterns, and theories. But for now, you were too lost in your own thoughts to make out their words.

⋆˖⁺‧₊☽◯☾₊‧⁺˖⋆

When you arrived at the station, Spencer took a moment to walk you through the cognitive interview process. "It’s designed to help you remember specific details," he explained, his voice calm and assuring. "It might feel intense, but I’ll be with you the whole time."

You nodded, glancing around the bustling police station, feeling a strange mix of curiosity and adrenaline. "Okay, so… I just answer questions, and you’ll be able to get a clearer picture of this guy?"

Spencer gave you a small smile. "Pretty much. Think of it as helping us paint a portrait. Every detail, no matter how small, could be useful."

The interview went smoothly; Spencer’s presence was patient and encouraging, never making you feel pressured to remember something you couldn’t. Afterward, he led you to a small break room, offering you a seat at a worn table with a coffee machine humming nearby.

A few minutes later, Spencer returned with two steaming cups, handing one to you. "Here," he said, "it's not gourmet, but it’ll keep us awake."

You took it gratefully, feeling a sense of normalcy settle in. "Thanks, Spencer." You sipped the coffee, savoring the warmth. "I didn’t expect to spend my afternoon in an FBI station, but… it’s definitely more interesting than my usual routine."

Spencer chuckled, seeming surprised by your laid-back attitude. "Most people aren’t as calm in situations like this."

You shrugged, feeling the weight of the situation but refusing to let it get the best of you. "I don’t know. I figure, if I’m in good hands, there’s no point in freaking out."

As you chatted, Spencer filled you in on some of the behavioral profiling techniques they used, giving you a peek into the mind of the BAU. His eyes lit up as he explained the ways they’d been analyzing the unsub’s behavior to find any possible patterns, and you found yourself genuinely interested, asking questions and absorbing his answers.

"Do you ever wonder why people do these things?" you asked thoughtfully, watching him as he considered your question.

"All the time," Spencer replied, his voice softening as he looked down at his coffee. "But there’s rarely a straightforward answer. The best we can do is study the behaviors and try to make sense of them. Hopefully, it helps us stop them."

A sense of respect grew in you as he spoke, and you found yourself admiring the dedication he had for his work. "That sounds exhausting. Important, but exhausting."

"It can be," he admitted, his gaze meeting yours. "But it’s worth it, especially when it means keeping someone safe. Like now."

You smiled, feeling a warmth spread through you at his sincerity. "Well, I guess I’m lucky you guys were around."

The door to the break room opened, and Derek poked his head in, giving Spencer a grin. "You two doing all right in here?"

Spencer nodded, standing up to update Derek on the details you’d given during the interview. As they talked, you finished your coffee, feeling a strange sense of calm despite the unusual circumstances.

When Derek turned his attention to you, his gaze softened. "We’re going to have a team set up around your house tonight, keeping a close eye on things. We’ll catch this guy if he shows up."

You nodded, feeling reassured. "Thanks, Agent Morgan. I know you guys are handling it, so I’ll let you do your thing."

Spencer glanced back at you with a small smile. "If you need anything, or have more questions, just let me know."

As they walked you to the main desk, Spencer looked back, his gaze soft. "We'll keep you safe," he assured you once more, his sincerity unmistakable. "Until then, try not to worry. We’re on it."

A small smile tugged at your lips as you nodded. "I trust you," you replied, giving them one last grateful look before they escorted you to a waiting area. And as you waited, you felt a sense of calm, knowing you weren’t facing this alone.

⋆˖⁺‧₊☽◯☾₊‧⁺˖⋆

[cazort]

I strongly agree with almost everything in this post, but I have one quibble, and this is the use of the term "moderate".

I find this frustrating because I'm trans and nonbinary, and I consider myself a moderate, and I very much dislike how some people use the term.

Being a "moderate" on trans issues does not mean caving to any of the right-wing attempts to roll back trans rights. What it can mean, however, is:

wanting sports leagues or their independent governing bodies to make their own decisions about who can and can't compete on what teams (contrast with the right-wing stance saying they want the government to bar trans people from competing even if sports leagues want to allow trans people to compete, but also contrast with far-left stances saying they want the government to force all independent sports bodies to accept trans people according to some set of criteria that the government sets) Why am I moderate on this issue? Because I don't want trans identities politicized. I don't want politicians to be debating our rights. If it's kept in the realm of the independent sports bodies, it's kept out of the political sphere and I see that as a win.

wanting all trans people to face zero pressure one way or the other when it comes to any sort of medical transition (contrast with the right-wing stance which wants to make medical transition illegal, or at least ban it for minors and make adults have to pay for it out of pocket, but also contrast with the transmedicalist stance which is unfortunately common in left-wing circles, which says that medical transition is the be-all and end-all of transition and trans people need medical transition to be happy, it's necessarily the right choice for all trans people, and you aren't really trans if you haven't medically transitioned) Why am I moderate on this issue? Because I see great pressure to medically transition both from transphobia (not having our genders recognized unless we transition) and from other trans people (glorifying the effects of transition, saying it will solve all our problems, etc.) and from left-wing pro-trans ideology which can get wrapped up in transmedicalism (equating "transition" with medical transition, equating medical transition with transness, etc.) and I hate this pressure. When people don't desire medical transition, it can lead to regret. When people do, it can mess with our motivation because it can be hard for us to sort out which desires or motivations are innate vs. which are imposed on us.

wanting people to be a bit more tolerant of the language people use, especially in the absence of any overt rudeness or explicit proof of bad faith. For example, not berating people or snapping at them for using the wrong pronouns (only politely correcting), not criticizing people or telling them they are "wrong" or "transphobic" for using older terminology (like "FtM", "MtF", "became a (wo)man", etc.) Why am I moderate on this issue? Because I've seen so many people get attacked, sometimes brutally, for using the "wrong" terminology, and this then makes the trans rights movement look unreasonable. Also the single worst stereotype I have to contend with as a nonbinary person is the expectation from others that I will be "demanding" and get angry at them if they use the wrong pronouns or gendered language to refer to me. And this is so frustrating because I'm actually laid back about these things, but I have to contend with these stereotypes in part because a lot of people do react this way.

wanting any pro-trans people to be more understanding of things like how it can be hard mentally and emotionally to adjust to people changing the gender, name, and/or pronouns they are referred to by. Why am I moderate on this issue? Because I prefer they/them pronouns and yet I still find it a bit hard or awkward sometimes, even though I prefer them over he/him and she/her pronouns. And more broadly, even though I'm nonbinary, I find the concept of nonbinary genders highly abstract and a bit confusing and hard to wrap my mind around. So I figure, if it's hard for me, it's probably going to be even harder for a cis person so the least I could do is to have a little bit of patience with them. Also, I don't want people to perceive my gender as an imposition on them so I don't particularly want others to be abrasive or aggressive about enforcing my pronouns or gender.

So yeah, I'm a moderate on trans issues. What this means is that I want to keep government out of gender, and more broadly, keep trans people from being politicized, I want there to be no pressure to medically transition one way or the other, and I am tolerant of people using older and/or nonstandard terminology to refer to trans people, and I'm relatively laid-back about people misgendering me or using non-preferred terminology to refer to me.

It does not mean I want to cave to any of the demands of far-right ideology.

The state of gay rights in the early aughts was not good; criminal penalties for homosexuality were rarely enforced but were on the books in many places, there was no right to marriage, and the morality of homosexuality was hotly contested in public. Big culture war issue. In that environment, where substantive protections were lacking, Democrats could be tepid on gay rights without actively giving anything up—if, like Obama in 2008, you didn’t support gay marriage, you could still be seen (correctly) as advocating for an overall better situation for gay people, or at least one that was no worse, in contrast to your right wing opponents.

Trans rights are not in the same position. Before the big trans rights backlash started, access to gender affirming care was pretty widespread, was everywhere legal, and was a matter for private concern only. Trans people could play in school sports subject to whatever their league’s rules were, and the idea of trying to make it illegal to cross dress in public was absurd. The conservative position since has become one of an explicit rollback of rights: revoke access to gender affirming care, create new criminal sanctions to punish trans people, make it illegal for them to participate in school sports, etc.

In that environment, tacking to the right on trans issues means deciding which elements of trans rights you are willing to concede to this project of actually rolling back trans rights. The only thing comparable from the gay rights fight is maybe state constitutional amendments to ban gay marriage, or DOMA—all of which were, IIRC, passed despite gay marriage not being legal in affected jurisdictions. Their enactment, while deplorable, had no material negative affect; gay people already couldn’t get married.

And that this project of rolling back trans rights is not a particular fetish of the religious right is more worrying. Plenty of liberals and liberal institutions are pretty transphobic. Britain has been working to export its flavor of (Moderate, Sensible, Secular) transphobia to other countries in Europe and the Anglosphere. Transphobes winning these fights isn’t a status quo situation—it’s a sharp increase in repression of trans people.

In light of that, I regard calls to “moderate” on trans issues with at best scorn. I think the party of civil rights condoning the rollback of citizens’ civil rights is really bad for its brand, won’t win it more votes, and may sufficiently alienate members of the base—who are invested in the party specifically because of its historic support for civil rights—that they simply don’t bother to show up in elections.

[passengerprincessblog]

“Breaking Point” ~ Pt 4 Lewis Hamilton x Reader

Warning: SMUT, NSFW, angst, arguments, sleepy oral? Idk.

Summary: When Lewis shows up unannounced at Y/N’s filming location and follows her back to her LA home, unresolved tensions boil over, sparking an intense argument that exposes the growing rift between them. As they clash over misunderstandings and unspoken resentments, Y/N struggles to hold her ground, refusing to melt under Lewis’s charm, even as he tries to bridge the distance in his own stubborn, unrelenting way.

The silence in the car is suffocating, thick with all the words left unsaid between us. We’re heading back to my house in LA, and the tension stretches like an invisible line, taut and fraying. Every time I glance his way, I catch Lewis staring, his gaze heavy, filled with something that feels like disappointment or maybe just frustration.

It’s strange having him here, in my city, in my space. He’s never part of this life—my world where I’m more than his girlfriend, more than a footnote in his racing saga. Today, he got a glimpse of me with my crew, laughing, bantering, a side of myself he barely knows. A side that doesn’t revolve around him. And maybe that’s why this hurts so much. He’s so supportive of everything about me… except this. My career. The one thing that pulls me away from him.

I feel his hand settle on my thigh, his fingers warm against my skin. Instinctively, irritation flares up. I want to shove him off, to shake his hand away, but I don’t. I know it’ll only set him off, and I’m too tired for another argument. Instead, I focus on the passing streets, letting the city lights blur together, pretending not to notice his fingers tracing idle circles. He reaches over, grabbing my hand, playing with the rings on my fingers like I’m his personal stress toy. The sensation is grounding, sure, but also infuriating. Does he even realize how invasive this feels? How much he takes from me without even realizing it?

When we finally arrive at my house, I pull away the second the car stops, sliding out and thanking James, my driver, with a quick “Goodnight.” Lewis lingers, watching me with that unreadable gaze, like he’s studying me. I feel exposed, as if I’m a stranger he’s trying to understand, trying to fit into some mold that doesn’t really exist. It’s clear he’s not used to seeing me here, in LA, in the life that belongs to me.

I walk up the steps to my front door, feeling his presence right behind me. My house is beautiful—sprawling, a mix of modern LA glamour and Spanish-style architecture, spacious and luxurious. It’s mine, yet not entirely mine. After all, it’s Lewis who pays for it. I hadn’t wanted his money in the beginning, fought him on it, but he insisted, saying that rejecting his help felt like rejecting him. So here I am, living in this house he gifted me, a reminder of his presence even when he’s not here.

I unlock the door and step inside, throwing my keys on the table in the foyer. The house is decorated to my taste—soft hues, eclectic art pieces, warm textures that make it feel like home, my sanctuary. I walk into the living room, hearing his footsteps close behind me. He glances around, taking in the space, a look of faint surprise on his face.

“Wow… did you change it?” he asks, looking genuinely intrigued.

I shrug, not bothering to hide my irritation. “Not really… well, kind of.” I don’t give him much more. He hasn’t been here in nearly a year. Of course he wouldn’t remember.

He huffs, following me up the stairs, his footsteps deliberate, like he’s pushing through the tension hanging between us. I can feel the irritation rolling off him, the way he’s holding himself back, and it makes me want to push even harder.

“Are you gonna be like this all night? Y/N?” he says, his tone laced with barely restrained frustration.

I reach the top of the stairs and turn to face him, crossing my arms. “Yes.”

His jaw clenches, and he lets out a frustrated sigh. “Why can’t you have a normal conversation with me? Why is that so hard?”

I roll my eyes, throwing my hands up. “It’s not a ‘normal’ conversation, Lewis.” I can’t hold back anymore. “I can’t believe you just showed up like that,” I blurt out, the annoyance bubbling over.

His eyes narrow as I open the door to my bedroom, stepping into the softly lit space. My room is intimate, filled with small decorations and touches that feel so personal, so me. It’s like a slap in the face to him, a reminder that he doesn’t see my life like this enough, that he doesn’t really know this part of me.

“Because I love you? Because I wanted to surprise you? And support you?” he scoffs, almost as if my irritation is absurd.

I throw my bag at the end of my bed, barely glancing at him. “Okay… well, thanks. You can go now… I’m so surprised and supported. Mission accomplished.” My tone is dripping with sarcasm. “You can go back to your life.”

He stares at me, his eyes flashing with anger, a dangerous edge simmering beneath the surface. “Don’t talk to me like that. I’m trying.”

“Cool. I’m so impressed… you’re so impressive. Mr. champion, millionaire, stupid playboy. Is that what you want? Me to praise you for your attempt? You’re so fucking amazing, Lewis!” My voice rises, my irritation finally spilling out in sharp, pointed words.

He takes a step toward me, his gaze dark and intense. “You’re really pushing it. You know what I mean… I’m trying to make you feel loved. What’s wrong with you?”

“You’re what’s wrong.” I snap back, feeling the weight of my resentment boiling over. “Just leave now. I know you’re gonna leave in the morning anyway… with your stupid race on Sunday.”

He sighs, exasperated but unwilling to give up. “I don’t have to leave until Wednesday night,” he says, his tone hardening as he steps closer. “I’m staying.”

I roll my eyes, brushing past him into my bathroom. “No. Just leave.”

He follows me, his voice low and demanding as he steps into the room behind me. “I said…” he grabs my arm, pulling me toward him, his hand firm on my chin as he tilts my face to look at him. “I’m staying.”

My stomach flips, a mix of nerves and something else swirling inside me as I meet his intense gaze. His eyes are smoldering, his jaw tight, and I can feel the determination radiating off him, daring me to challenge him.

“Fine,” I say, my voice barely more than a whisper, trying to sound annoyed.

He lets go of my face, his thumb brushing over my cheek in a gentle, almost tender gesture that makes my heart ache. I can tell he wants more, that he’s craving some kind of reassurance, something from me, but I can’t bring myself to give in. Not yet.

He starts to step back, but I turn to the mirror, trying to compose myself, pretending his presence doesn’t affect me as much as it does. But he doesn’t move far; instead, he leans against the counter, his gaze fixed on me.

“Give me a kiss,” he says softly, his tone almost pleading.

I glare at him, refusing to give him the satisfaction.

“Give me a kiss…” he repeats, his voice coaxing, insistent.

I continue to glare, refusing to budge, letting the silence stretch.

“Y/N…” he murmurs, his tone dipping, a hint of something darker beneath it. “I’ll be getting a lot more than a kiss when we get to bed, so you better just give me one now.”

I furrow my brow, stubbornly refusing to indulge him. “You’re not forgiven. You don’t get a kiss… and you don’t get to stay in my room.”

He groans, rubbing his eyebrows in frustration. “Oh my god. You’re such a brat. Why are you like this? I’m trying to fix things.”

“They aren’t fixed. Leave me alone,” I mutter, turning back to the mirror, focusing on brushing my hair, anything to avoid the pull of his gaze.

He steps closer, his expression softening, and he leans down, pressing a gentle kiss to my cheek. “I love you, baby girl. Please… stop being like this.”

I narrow my eyes, knowing exactly what he’s doing. He’s trying to be all soft and sweet, pulling at my heartstrings, hoping I’ll melt and give in. But it’s not going to work. Not this time.

“Goodnight. The guest bedroom is perfect for you,” I say, flashing him a sarcastic smile.

He glares at me, his expression hardening in irritation. With a heavy sigh, he finally turns and leaves, the sound of his footsteps echoing down the hall, leaving me alone with the hollow ache that always seems to linger when he’s gone.

It’s late—sometime in the early hours, I’m sure—and I’ve barely settled into sleep when the faint sound of my bedroom door clicking shut pulls me out of my dreams. I stay still, eyes closed, hoping it’s just my imagination. But then I feel the bed shift, the mattress sinking slightly as a familiar warmth slips in beside me.

A heavy arm drapes over my waist, and I instinctively make a soft, annoyed sound, shifting away, but he just tightens his grip, pulling me back. His presence is warm, enveloping, and for a moment, I consider giving in, letting his touch soothe the tension between us. But I can’t quite shake my irritation, even through the haze of sleep.

“Baby… baby girl… shh…” His voice is soft, a gentle murmur as he leans in, pressing feather-light kisses along my neck and cheek. Each kiss is an apology, a quiet plea, and I can feel his regret seeping into each touch.

I hum in response, somewhere between annoyance and surrender, too drowsy to put up much of a fight. His hand slips under my shirt, his fingers gliding over my skin in slow, soothing circles, as if he’s trying to coax the tension out of me, to ease the edges of my frustration.

“I’m so sorry, baby girl…” he whispers, his breath warm against my skin. “I love you so much… please don’t be mad at me.”

The sincerity in his voice tugs at something deep within me, a part of me that’s been holding onto my anger, but now feels it starting to crumble. I want to hold onto it, to let him know how much he’s hurt me, but his gentle touch, the warmth of his apology, makes it hard to keep the walls up.

I sigh, barely able to form a coherent response, the words slipping out in a quiet murmur. “Lewis…”

His fingers trail lower, caressing the curve of my hip before slipping beneath the waistband of my panties. I squirm at the intimate touch, a shiver running through me despite my lingering irritation. His hand settles between my thighs, and I can't help but part them slightly, allowing him access.

"Let me make it up to you, baby girl," he murmurs, his voice low and soothing. "Let me show you how much I love you."

I'm too sleepy to protest, the warmth of his touch lulling me back towards unconsciousness. My body responds to him, a soft moan escaping my lips as his fingers begin to move, stroking me gently, coaxing me towards arousal.

"That's it, baby," he whispers encouragingly. "Just relax for me. Let me take care of you."

His words wash over me, soothing and seductive, and I feel myself melting into his touch. My hips begin to move of their own accord, squirming against his hand as he works me closer and closer to the edge.

I'm lost in a haze of pleasure, the earlier argument fading away as his skillful fingers bring me to the brink of climax. Just as I'm about to fall over the edge, he withdraws his hand, leaving me frustrated and wanting more.

"Lewis..." I whine, my voice thick with need.

He chuckles softly, the sound rumbling through his chest as he shifts position. "Not yet, baby girl. I'm not done apologizing."

With that, he moves down the bed, settling between my legs. I feel his breath ghosting over my sensitive flesh, and I can't suppress the moan that escapes my lips. He looks up at me, his eyes dark with desire, before he leans in, his tongue sliding over me in one long, slow lick.

I gasp, my fingers tangling in his hair as he begins to work me with his mouth, his tongue delving deep, stroking me in all the right places.

He continues his ministrations, his tongue swirling around my clit, sending jolts of pleasure coursing through my body. I can feel myself getting wetter.

"Fuck, Lewis," I moan, my hips squirming against his face. "Don't stop."

He obliges, doubling down on his efforts, his tongue delving deeper, his lips sucking harder. My fingers tighten in his hair, holding him in place as I grind against his mouth, chasing my release.

"You taste so fucking good, baby girl," he groans, the vibrations of his voice sending shockwaves of pleasure through me. "I could eat this pretty little pussy all night."

His words are filthy, but they only serve to turn me on more, spurring me towards my impending climax. I can feel it building, a coil of tension in my lower belly, winding tighter and tighter with each flick of his tongue.

"Lewis, I'm gonna... I'm gonna," I pant, my body tensing, my thighs quivering around his head.

He doesn't relent, his mouth working me feverishly, his tongue flicking rapidly over my clit, pushing me over the edge. I come with a cry, my back arching off the bed as waves of pleasure crash over me.

He laps it me up eagerly, prolonging my orgasm until I'm a trembling, boneless mess beneath him. Only then does he pull away, crawling back up my body to claim my lips in a deep, passionate kiss, sharing the taste of my own arousal with me.

"I love you, baby girl," he murmurs against my lips, his eyes shining with adoration.

I whimper slightly, the fleeing still lingers. I look at him as I become fully awake. Is he serious? Only Lewis would try this…

“‘Mmm…” I hum in response, not giving him the satisfaction of saying it back. He’s not forgiven, not matter how good he makes me feel.

His eyebrows furrow at me as he looks down at me. He sighs heavily, looking and sounding annoyed. He lays down next to me, cuddling close. I close my eyes… I’ll let him stay the here.

————————————-

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[tossawary]

I'm reviewing episode transcripts from "Merlin" to build up my worldbuilding document (character list, mostly) and, a little ways into S2, I'm kind of feeling like the show is actually quite mean to Arthur as a character sometimes? S1 E14: "To Kill the King" is one of those episodes where I forget how badly it pissed me off until I run into it again.

Like, don't get me wrong, Arthur can be a bully, entitled, hotheaded, and reckless, but he's also at this point risked his own life to save people multiple times. Both individuals whose lives were "worth less" than his own (getting the Mortaeus flower for a poisoned Merlin, smuggling Mordred out of the city, protecting Ealdor from bandits) and also Camelot as a whole (fighting the plague-causing monster in the sewers, fighting the mam-eating griffin, drinking poison to lift the unicorn curse).

Arthur is giving me vibes of being both bored and frustrated (and probably not able to name those feelings or exactly why he has them) because he wants so badly to do good things, but he's not really sure how to go about it because (no one ever tells him anything, he almost NEVER knows what's really going on to make informed choices, and) he's also stuck under the thumb of his tyrannical father, who spends most of their scenes together berating Arthur for being too merciful, for not being dutiful enough, and/or not finding sorcerers for execution fast enough. When Arthur tries to be fair-minded and compassionate, Uther often essentially tells him that he's going to be a weak king with that attitude.

Arthur's pathways to betterment are limited, his parent and role model and boss here is an AWFUL person, but he's trying!

So, it's quite frustrating to get to this one episode where characters like Gaius (extremely biased, admittedly, clearly not an objective individual) are saying things like: "Arthur's not ready. The responsibility would be too great. Brave though he may be, he lacks experience, he lacks judgement."

Like, I don't know, Arthur may be only 21 and kind of a dipshit, but I personally think he'd still do a better job than the guy who tried to kill a kid (Mordred) just for existing a few episodes ago? Maybe? Gwen's father, who wasn't even a sorcerer or knowingly working with one, is dead explicitly because of Uther's awful laws. Did everyone in this episode forget that Uther tried to BURN GWEN ALIVE AT THE STAKE not that long ago (Episode 3)?

ARTHUR: "[Morgana]'s right, Father. You hear the word magic, you no longer listen."

UTHER: "You saw it for yourself. She used enchantments."

ARTHUR: "Yes, maybe. But to save her dying father, that doesn't make [Gwen] guilty of creating a plague. One's the act of, of kindness, of love, the other of evil. I don't believe evil's in this girl's heart."

UTHER: "I have witnessed what witchcraft can do. I have suffered at its hand. I cannot take that chance. If there is the slightest doubt about this girl, she must die or the whole kingdom may perish."

ARTHUR: "I understand that."

UTHER: "One day you may become King. Then you will understand. Such decisions must be made. There are dark forces that threaten this kingdom."

ARTHUR: "I know. Witchcraft is an evil, father. So is injustice. Yes, I am yet to be King, and I don't know what kind of king I will be, but I do have a sense of the kind of Camelot I would wish to live in. It would be where the punishment fits the crime."

UTHER: "I fear you're right. She's played with fire, and sadly she must die by fire."

When the adult druid (Cerdan) accompanying Mordred is killed (Episode 8), Arthur objects afterwards! On his own! While Arthur is sometimes an active participant in Uther's tyranny and otherwise complicit, he's been told all of his life that magic is inherently evil and corrupting, he was raised by the very man spreading this hateful philosophy, he should probably hate magic more than anyone after Uther, and yet he still disagrees with Uther's methods and judgments. Even though Uther is apparently VERY willing to lock both his son (Episode 4) and his ward (Episode 8) in the dungeons for disagreeing with him and disobeying him!

ARTHUR: The Druid was only in Camelot to collect supplies. He meant no harm. Is it necessary to execute him?

UTHER: Absolutely necessary. Those who use magic cannot be tolerated.

ARTHUR: The Druids are a peaceful people.

UTHER: Given the chance, they would return magic to the kingdom. They preach peace, but conspire against me. We cannot appear weak.

ARTHUR: Showing mercy can be a sign of strength.

UTHER: Our enemies will not see it that way. We have a responsibility to protect this kingdom. Executing the Druid will send out a clear message. Find the boy. Search every inch of the city.

Obviously, running a kingdom is complicated! Uther apparently won Camelot by conquest and is in conflict with many of the neighboring kings, including Odin and Cenred, and likely has more of the respect of the local nobility than young Arthur does. Uther's death would create some instability! (Agravaine de Bois hasn't been created yet, but let's assume there are many other potential vultures.)

But the show generally isn't pushing that angle. This isn't really about smooth transitions of power. Personally, concerning Arthur's "lack of judgment", I do find his ready conviction that it is his duty to die for Camelot's honor if necessary (he says as much to Merlin explicitly before fighting Valiant in Episode 2, then again before fighting the Black Knight in Episode 9) more than a little concerning, but that doesn't seem to be angle pushed here either.

The show has characters (Merlin, Gwen, Gaius) suggesting that offing the King, who regularly kills innocent people whether they have magic or not, who has forbidden use of the tool that might have saved innocent people from Nimueh's plague or the wraith of Tristan de Bois, would be wrong! It would be murder and murder is bad! It would make (in the words of a grieving Gwen) her "just as bad" as him.

Even though Merlin has at this point already killed Aulfric and Sophia (Episode 7), as well as Mary Collins (Episode 1) because they were trying to kill Arthur. And arguably got an assist with Valiant (Episode 2). And will kill many more as the show goes on. This conversation with Kilgharrah in S1 E14 is in many ways so, so funny:

KILGHARRAH: Well, young warlock, what is it you come to ask of me?

MERLIN: I need your help.

KILGHARRAH: Of course you do, but this time, will you heed my words?

MERLIN: The sorcerer Tauren is plotting to kill the King. He's made an ally of Morgana. I don't know what to do!

KILGHARRAH: Do… nothing.

MERLIN: What do you mean? If I do nothing, Uther will die.

KILGHARRAH: Don't you want Uther dead? It is Uther that persecutes you and your kind, Merlin. It is Uther that murders the innocent…

MERLIN: But surely that doesn't make it right to kill him.

KILGHARRAH: Only if Uther dies can magic return to the land. Only if Uther dies will you be free, Merlin. Uther's reign is at an end. Let Arthur's reign begin. Fulfil your destiny!

[The dragon flies off.]

MERLIN: Wait! Where does it say my destiny includes murder?

KILGHARRAH: Free this land from tyranny, Merlin! Free us all!

I feel for Kilgharrah here. He was VERY straightforward. I don't know how he could have been clearer about this.

I won't say that Merlin's character writing doesn't make ANY sense here (I do think the character writing in this show is NOT amazingly consistent), because... he IS being influenced by Gaius, who is, unfortunately, a bootlicker and also probably extremely traumatized by all of the death he's seen (big contributor of the bootlicking) (also, apparently Gaius only becomes a "freeman" at the end of Episode 6, so there's that). And Merlin is also being heavily influenced by Arthur, who loves his father, despite everything. For Arthur's sake, if no one else's, Merlin will go out of his way to save Uther. Sure! That tracks!

Merlin spends a lot of time in this show protecting a terrible status quo under some assumption that Camelot will... somehow suddenly become better under Arthur? Instead of perhaps eventually just trusting Arthur and talking to him after their years of knowing each other? There are several, in-world reasons for this and I don't think they're all unrealistic! It's tense! It's thrilling sometimes!

(Though I am ultimately a little annoyed that Merlin's many secrets never really come out and get dealt with by the characters, because that would have been fun drama and some resolution to all the tension, even if the story did still end in death.)

There's some tasty tragedy in this silly show, in many ways. Merlin is confused and conflicted and scared and without clear guidance in many ways. Kilgharrah is mysterious and not at all reassuring. Gaius is complacent and (very reasonably) incredibly secretive. Merlin doesn't get to see many of the moments where Arthur speaks up for magical people and tries to talk Uther down. Morgana and Arthur are both stuck here in a "The hands that cradled you are covered in an unimaginable amount of blood." "But they cradled me, yes?" nightmare scenario. (There's also a sexist element where male characters like Gaius and Merlin won't let Morgana know about her own powers "for her own good" in a gaslight-y way that's fascinating to me in how it creates a villain.)

But, also, the compelling tragic elements here don't make certain episodes any less frustrating to watch in their execution. (I don't think villains being frustrating to watch or read necessarily makes them effective villains, especially when what I really find annoying here is the heroes' reactions to the villain. Uther has killed SO MANY PEOPLE! FOR NO REASON!) Especially when a lot of the overall results of this show often feel more accidental than purposeful. I do understand why the writers keep Uther around! He's a formidable antagonist to have looming all over the place and the actor is fun.

But OOF, I felt that "Do... Nothing".

Merlin! MERLIN! LISTEN TO THE SCARY DRAGON! MERLIN, REMEMBER THAT TIME UTHER TRIED TO BURN GWEN ALIVE??? JUST BECAUSE GWEN IS TOO NICE TO GO AFTER UTHER WITH A KNIFE AND TAKE REVENGE, IT DOESN'T ACTUALLY MEAN KILLING HIM MAKES YOU "JUST AS BAD"!!! MERLIN!!! YOU HAVE ALREADY MURDERED MULTIPLE PEOPLE WHO KILLED WAY LESS PEOPLE THAN UTHER!!!

In Episode 4, Morgana says to Uther: "You can't chain [Arthur] up every time he disagrees with you." This implies to me that Uther has had Arthur thrown in the dungeons before. In Episode 3, Arthur says to Morgana: "Father will slam us both in chains if he knew I'd endangered you," and maybe he wasn't at all joking with that? Arthur is rattling the bars of his cell here, apparently fairly ready to be aimed wherever Merlin points him, bucking against being aimed at innocents by his tyrant of a father.

But nooo, Gaius says Arthur is "not ready yet" because...??? He seems less hotheaded than Uther to me, honestly. Are his tax policies not up to par yet? You can hire a guy for that. Suggesting that Arthur would be in any way worse than His Majesty "Anyone Who Talks To A Sorcerer Gets Executed Even If They Didn't Know They Were A Sorcerer" feels quite mean to Arthur, really. I think he'd do alright, in comparison, Gaius who lies to the King every single day, but I suppose you sometimes want to be a loyal friend to good ol' King "Made Merlin Drink Poison That One Time And Wouldn't Let Anyone Go Get The Cure". Good for you. Bad for everyone else.

Like, I know, I know this show is not very deep. I like that all of the characters are flawed and fumble a lot! I even kind of enjoy that it ultimately ends in death with so many loose emotional threads. It is a weekly burst of fantasy nonsense that is not especially concerned with consistency in worldbuilding or characters from episode to episode. But the executive discrepancies here are, like the ones in "Star Wars", weirdly fascinating with all of the holes and wobbly bits it creates.

This show: "Yes, our hero has once again saved the tyrannical king who kills innocents! Preventing the oblivious prince from assuming the throne and trying to do better as he so clearly wants to do! Good work, Merlin, taking the high road (which involved murdering the rightfully angry people trying to kill the tyrannical king) again!"

Me, every time: "...I am genuinely not sure how the show wants us to interpret this. What did they think they were doing with this? Was this always meant to be a tragedy from the first season? Because personally, I'm getting some kind of tragedy from this."

[deathbxnny]

Our blood will drip from your hands. | Caitlyn x Fem!Reader (feat. Vi)

This is my official contribution to the Arcane Fandom and also my way of asking for requests. I hope you guys enjoy this!!<33

Summary: You befriended Caitlyn shortly after being taken in by an influential family in Piltover as a young child. You always believed that she saw you for who you were and not just for what you were. However, when she dared to appear in your home as your nation's newly appointed dictator, you realised that she was never any different herself.

Content: Heavy season 2 spoilers!!!!, Zaunite Reader, conflicting emotions, undefined relationship, heavy angst, hurt/no comfort, mentions of grief on Caitlyn's side, childhood friends, racism/discrimination against Zaunites, slight Vi x Reader?, sfw

Reader is afab and uses she/her pronouns!

((Not fully proofread))

"Have you... Have you lost your mind, Caitlyn?" You never expected to end up like this with her. Conversations that were once filled with laughs, gentle words, and wide smiles now felt sinister and cold. You shivered slightly under her domineering gaze and yet stood your ground, a defiant flame from your past childhood burning in your heart. The silence that followed your question felt dangerous, that familiar fear sparking in you at the glinting of her pristine uniform under the moonlight in the garden she had trapped you in. It reminded you of the days in which you could feel only terror at the mere sight of it, rightfully so. But perhaps the years of being fed with a silver spoon had you slowly cooking like a frog in a pot, doomed to unknowingly perish from its own blissful ignorance.

And was it too late to jump out now?

When you saw the navy haired woman's jaw clench tightly in a show of brave self-restraint, you realised that, yes, it was way too late for you.

Things went downhill the moment Caitlyn introduced you to Vi, you concluded. There was an instant bond you had with the woman, a bond only two of the same kin and background could have, despite your different upbringing. You remembered the night the three of you sat in these grand gardens of yours, the privilege of the fresh air filling your lungs weighing heavy on your consciousness as she spoke of her past. You recognized the places she mentioned, felt the emotions that ran through her, and shared the silent, familiar fear of the uniformed devil's with ease. You spoke of things the Kirammann could never understand, and you believed that it was alright that she didn't.

Caitlyn didn't say a word while you two spoke, her face betraying no negative emotion as she just simply gripped onto your gloved hand tightly. Foreshadowing, you had missed perhaps in hindsight. You had foolishly hoped that she saw you both as people, regardless of where you hailed from. You realise now that your wishful thinking had made you painfully naive.

The veil had finally been lifted from your eyes now and revealed the truth you've been denying for so long. And why did it take you so much time to realise it anyway? Why did it have to be Caitlyn's disgusted look to shake you awake?

Why didn't you just listen to Vi when she appeared at your doorstep hours earlier, a shell of what she once, as she practically cried in your arms? You never thought you'd see the day in which a fellow Zaunite would willingly degrade themselves so terribly by wearing the uniform of their oppressors. But why did you always make an exception for Caitlyn then, if you hated seeing Vi as one?

She had left shortly after, leaving you crying in frustration and betrayal when she told you how they used the ventilation system against your own people. They had flooded the streets with that toxic smog, hurt people more than they already were, and potentially even killed some for what? And unfortunately... the woman before you was the mastermind of it all.

Grief was a terrible thing. It really was. And yet, there was no excuse for this.

Your mind spun, legs threatening to give out at any moment. You should have run after Vi. You shouldn't have stayed here for a moment longer. But you had deluded yourself into thinking that it was all just a misunderstanding. That you had heard it wrong. Even if you couldn't look away from the devil anymore that you once lovingly called your best friend... or perhaps even more?

Slightly stumbling backward with a faint sigh, Caitlyn was quick to grab onto your hip, yet you flinched out of her grasp quicker than you could process it. It was a relfex on both of your sides. "No, don't you dare touch me after what you've... what you will do." You couldn't stand being near her as the panic set in, and you were desperate to get away. You never thought that you'd come to this point. You never thought that you'd learn to hate her so suddenly. It made you sick.

She reluctantly let her hand fall back to her side, and it unnerved you then that she had yet to say a thing. Did she perhaps feel guilty after all? Was she perhaps reflecting? A glance into her eyes reconfirmed that you were indeed wrong about her once again. You needed to stop dreaming. Your life up here has blinded you too much.

"... You weren't there today." You knew that she meant the councilor meeting with all the other noble houses. Your adoptive parents had gone as well, albeit without you. They were in clear disagreement with the entire situation themselves, and yet social pressure was a curse. Turning away from her, you found the energy to scoff. "And what of it? Do you expect me to stand there and cheer? Support a potential mass killing of innocent people?" "I am keeping us safe. I'm keeping you safe. There is nothing innocent about them." Her voice was raised and sharp, nothing like you had ever heard before. The adrenaline was making your body shake dangerously, and you started becoming aware of how angry you were. You hadn't felt like this in years. And here you thought you were used to their hate, too.

"So you are willing to murder hundreds over Jinx? Because that's what this is all about, isn't it? Revenge?" You got it right. It was all just for that. She was willing to disgrace her own ancestors' life work to fill the void left behind by her mother’s absence. "... I am doing all of this so no one has to get hurt again. We are left with no other choice. They are too dangerous-" "-Then why am I any different? What am I, if you view us as nothing but animals?" Silence. Just as expected, she never thought that far. Or maybe she simply considered you one of the better ones. The one whose blood was saved by the kindness of your parents in Piltover. You weren't tainted anymore. You were perfect because this place allowed you to be.

"... Why can you just not see all I'm doing for us? I... don't make me turn on you, too. You are better than this." You let out a laugh, one that could've sent down a shiver down anyone's spine. Even Caitlyn's, if she wasn't so tense and rigid now. Vi was right. She truly had changed for the worse. And god did it hurt.

"I loved you, Cait. I really did. And I understand the pain you've gone through after the loss of your mother. I stood at your side on the day of the funeral. I felt your agony." What should've been a confession filled with relief and happiness, now simply left a bitter taste in your mouth. "But I refuse to keep standing at your side if it means to see your hands stain with the blood of my people. You are a puppet, Caitlyn. The warlord has taken over your mind. The strings around your neck will tighten until it snuffs out the rest of your soul. And I will not be there to help you out of it this time." You don't care to hear her next words or even look her in the face as a last goodbye. Your Caitlyn died with her mother, buried beneath endless flower petals, safe and far away from the monster that appeared in her stead.

Your calm steps suddenly picked up the pace, and you found yourself running away, your frilly dress bunched up in your arms, chest heaving with the sobs you couldn't hide anymore. You ignored her call for your name, the demanding order pushing you much farther away until all you could hear were your panicked steps over the marble floor and the faint singing of the cicadas coming to a close.

Caitlyn stood there for the longest time, her stern gaze frozen in the direction you had disappeared in before she tipped her hat over her eyes and left.

You'll understand one day, she supposed.

[itsjunear]

Comfort

Note: Hello, loves! I guess I disappeared again 😭 I'm sorry, there's been a lot going on these past few weeks, and I wasn’t feeling very well. This is my way of making it up to you ❤❤ I'm still working on the second part of "Shadows and Whispers", but I got sidetracked, and something totally out of my element came out of it. I’m really sorry if this turns out to be a mess, I’ve never written anything obscene and explicit before, so feel free to tell me if it’s terrible! Remember, English isn’t my first language, so if there are any mistakes, don’t hesitate to let me know! Please take care of yourself! Love you all! 💙💙💙

P.S. I didn’t tag anyone because I wasn’t really sure if you’d want it, especially after disappearing for almost a month. Sorry 😭😭

Words: +1k

Warnings: Obscenity

Summary: Reader goes to comfort Azriel after he's returned from a mission. However, things take a turn, and somehow she finds herself in a sinful situation with the shadowsinger.

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I still didn't understand how the hell I had ended up in this situation.

Or rather, how I had ended up in this position.

My intentions in arriving at Az were completely genuine and innocent. I knew him well enough to know that he was absolutely frustrated with how the mission had ended, just as I also knew that he would try to hide his feelings because that was his way of dealing with everything.

When I arrived at the River House, I found him sitting at the foot of the bed with his elbows resting on his knees and his hands tangled in his dark hair. He was so out of it that he didn't even lift his head when he heard me enter and he didn't bother to pick up his wings either, a strong indicator of his mood.

Seeing him like this made my heart ache, and the urge to comfort him took hold of me, so I didn't even think when my feet carried me directly in front of him. Somehow, I sneaked my hand in and gently placed it on his cheek, forcing him to look up. His shadows were scattered and restless.

I wasn't ready for what I found in his hazel eyes: loneliness and resignation. He didn't even try to hide it from me, and that was what scared me the most. I was prepared to face the big wall he put up when something emotional was involved, but I wasn't ready for the honest vulnerability that hit me like a blow to the cheek.

"Aziel..." I let out with a shaky sigh.

He shook his head and for a second my body went rigid as I felt his arms wrap tightly around my waist and rest his head on my stomach. I reacted and instinctively placed one hand on his back, in the middle of his wings, and the other in his hair, scraping gently with my nails. In response, a shiver ran through him, and I stopped my movements abruptly.

"No" It was the first thing I heard him say since I had entered "Please... Just... continue."

I nodded even though I knew he wasn't looking at me and resumed my movements. He relaxed against me and settled his head higher, right between my breasts. HIS shadows calmed down then, and limited themselves to passing through us occasionally.

"Az..." I tried again.

“Y/n…” he interrupted me, pressing himself tighter against my body. "I need this right now. Just... tell me to stop if you don't want it."

I didn't stop him, and he decided to explore a little more, brushing his nose against the edge of my breasts, making me shiver. One of his hands that was on my waist went down to my ass and squeezed hard, but at the same time slowly, as if he wanted to melt into my skin.

A gasp of surprise escaped my lips when I felt him place soft kisses on my breasts, near the nipples, covered only by an old shirt that was too big for me. He put it in his mouth, wetting the shirt, making my hands fly straight to his hair, tangling and pulling gently. A grunt of approval came from Azriel, and all logical thought vanished from my mind, leaving me completely blank and a prisoner of sensations.

His hands became bolder reaching for one of my perfectly fitting breasts and he squeezed, making me gasp.

"You're so beautiful" he said breathily and pulled my shirt up over my head.

My breasts were exposed, and directly at the height of his lips, so he did not hesitate to put them in his mouth. I just arched my back, delighted in the way he made me feel even though I knew this was wrong. Az was very vulnerable right now and it was a miracle that he was showing me this side of him.

That thought hit me like a bucket of cold water and brought my feet back to earth.

"Az," I called after a moment. "We can't..." I gasped as I felt him pull my nipple between his lips. "Listen, I don't think this is a good idea..."

"I need to feel you close. I need to know that you are here with me," he pleaded in a tone of voice I had never heard before, "Making you feel good will make me feel good."

"But I don't want you to think that I'm taking advantage..."

"I need this. I need you" he interrupted me.

That took my breath away and the way he looked like I was his only lifeline made me give in, so I finally nodded.

The shadowsinger rewarded me by leaving a wet kiss on my neck before separating for a moment to unbutton his leathers and reveal all his glory. I didn't hold back and gently touched his skin, trying to convey everything I felt through those caresses, trying to tell him that I was there for him and from the way he tensed where my fingers passed, I assumed he could understand it. I even brushed the edge of one of his wings and he shivered violently, not hiding the low moan that escaped.

His hands moved down to unbutton my shorts without leaving soft kisses combined with licks on my neck. I dug my nails carefully into his back, avoiding the membranes, and he let out a hoarse moan that went deep into my bones. He slowly slid my pants down caressing my legs in the process and then helped me out of them once they hit the carpet beneath my feet.

That's how I was left in nothing but panties in front of Azriel, who was looking at me like I was the only damn person in his life that he had ever wanted. I didn't feel self-conscious under his scrutiny, on the contrary, I had the feeling that he was memorizing me.

“Y/n” he ​​called with rapid breathing “You are beautiful, fucking beautiful.”

His words also had more meaning, I realized. It was the second time he had told me this tonight and somehow, he managed to warm my heart.

The shadowsinger manipulated my body to his liking, so he gave me one last open-mouthed kiss right over my heart before turning me over, leaving me on my back now. I felt him fill my spine with kisses and hook his fingers on my panties, slowly lowering them until he left a kiss on my lower back that made me shudder.

Completely naked, she took me by the waist to place me on his lap. I could feel his hardness beneath me, and he hissed when I ground my hips together.

I was sitting in the middle of his legs, until he hooked one of his hands and put one of my legs over his, so that I was wedged over it, although I still rested my back on his chest.

Then he hugged me, imprisoning me in his arms and hiding his face in my neck. His hands then went down, directly to my center, and he began to touch me with gentle movements, slow caresses on the clitoris that made me gasp. A moan escaped from the back of my throat as I felt his fingers slide into my folds and curve them deliciously.

"That's it honey, let me hear you" he whispered in my ear.

He repeated the movement, and my body went crazy when he added another finger. Everything was slow and felt completely different, it felt more intimate, fuller of feeling. His fingers worked magic inside me while he caressed my clit with his thumb. It was too much, and I figured Az could sense it because he sped up his movements.

Another moan escaped my lips as one movement pushed me over the edge and the orgasm rippled through me making me tremble, sweeping through everything. Azriel did not stop his hands, prolonging the sensation and supporting all my weight, since I had practically collapsed on top of him.

After a few seconds, he did something that left me gasping, partly from the orgasm he just gave me, and partly from the sensual sight. He took his fingers out of me, not caring in the least about the mess, and sucked on them, looking into my eyes before resting his forehead against mine.

"Az" I whispered in between a gasp.

He lunged at my lips and there are no words to describe the way he kissed me. It was messy, a combination of tongue and teeth, but it felt perfect, like once in a lifetime, everything fit together.

I walked away after a moment, to catch my breath, and he grimaced as if it physically hurt him not to be around, to which I responded by standing up and climbing up behind him, only this time who hid his face in his neck. It was me, absolutely enjoying the skin-to-skin contact and the way he held me close to his bare chest and mine.

Az didn't care about the mess I was probably making on his leathers still wearing my fluids. He didn't seem interested in any of that.

"Thank you for staying," he said after a moment, wrapping his wings around us.

"You have nothing to thank me for," I responded, taking his face in my hands. "How are you feeling?"

"Good, now that you're here." He responded and for emphasis, one of his shadows caressed my arm with a cold touch, making me smile.

"Do you want to talk about it?" I asked as I ran a finger over the membrane of his wing again.

A shudder consumed him along with a gasp and he rested his head on my shoulder.

"Not yet"

I nodded and wrapped my arms around his neck. Trying to give him comfort beyond words and show him that she was here with him. Not anywhere else.

[aihoshiino]

putting aside whatever other problems there are or aren't with the OnK ending, I think the one thing that really drives me up the wall is that Aqua never really gets a chance to reconcile or meaningfully make peace with his relationship with Ai... not even necessarily in the sense of like, 'this character tragically died before resolving this issue' way but more like, with the hindsight of how much the Movie Arc was wasting time and panel space, it's frustrating that an arc that SHOULD have been about Aqua and Ruby working through that kind of had four chapters of Ruby, exclusively, making a breakthrough and then never touched on it as an idea again.

Honestly, I don't think you'd need to change much! Even just having Aqua call her 'Mom' or at least properly embracing her as his mother in spirit would have done it, especially since 163 emphasizes Aqua's life being his own, not just the dregs left behind by Gorou's reincarnation. He does refer to her as 'my/our mother' at certain points, but he also calls Kamiki 'my/our father' in contexts that are very clinical and not necessarily positive. So... idk!

Maybe him wanting to call Miyako 'Mom' was supposed to hit on that same sort of beat and I can understand if Aqua simply felt more bonded with and connected to Miyako as his mom since she actually raised him, but if the conclusion of that relationship is just that Aqua never really felt like Ai was his mom, I think that's excessively cruel to Ai and just kind of a letdown. But the way the story kind of dropped the ball on Aqua's posthumous relationship with her was kind of a letdown in general lol, so...

[hellaarknight]

I promised to protect you

⚜️⚜️⚜️⚜️⚜️⚜️⚜️⚜️⚜️⚜️⚜️⚜️⚜️⚜️⚜️⚜️⚜️⚜️⚜️⚜️⚜️⚜️⚜️⚜️⚜️⚜️⚜️

Genre: Angst

Warnings: swearing and mention of physical and psychological abuse, toxic relationship, mentions of bruises and about laying hands on a partner, some of the content may be triggering.

Author note: I would consider this a heavy fic for some. Do not engage if you think it might be triggering.

Images and art from Pinterest if someone knows the original creators let me know so I can tag them properly

⚜️⚜️⚜️⚜️⚜️⚜️⚜️⚜️⚜️⚜️⚜️⚜️⚜️⚜️⚜️⚜️⚜️⚜️⚜️⚜️⚜️⚜️⚜️⚜️⚜️⚜️⚜️

" Well he's not always this bad, he's ok..."

Your weak attempt to defend your shity boyfriend only made Chuuya angrier. Why would you let yourself be in the company of that awful guy, he could never understand. You were bright and nice, powerful and determined and yet you got yourself a... A leech. No, it was worse but he was being generous while describing that abomination of a man... That guy had deemed your light in the past 6 months he's dated you and Chuuya hates himself for allowing you to get with him in the first place.

"Are you even listening to yourself right now?" Chuuya extended towards you a glass of wine.

"Listen Chuuya, I know he's not the man I've dreamed of and doesn't have all the qualities I've wanted my partner to have, but I also have to compromise on some things."

"Not on your dignity."

Your gaze fell on the floor a deep sight leaving your lips. Chuuya ran a hand through his hair, very frustrated. He didn't want to say it like that, but he had enough of seeing you suffer, seeing you renounce your hobbies because that guy deemed them "childish" or seeing you lose your spark when talking about what brought you joy just because your boyfriend found them boring. He knew you were smart, always talked about how you will never lose yourself in a relationship so he didn't really understand why and how you got to this point. Chuuya fell in love with you, but couldn't tell you because of his mafia position and him being away for missions a lot, or work trips how he called them in front of you. Then, when he decided he had to come forward and let you decide if you wanted to give him a chance with all that it would have entailed, he was a month too late. He returned from one long, painful mission and found you in a relationship, one that he despised wholeheartedly, so he chose to remain your trusted friend.

"Listen, I didn't want to say it like that...."

"No, that's not true, you did want to say it exactly like that". Your voice was on the verge of cracking. Something bottled up was about to spill if you weren't careful enough and Chuuya noticed it. The man groaned and took a sip of his wine. Maybe it was time to be honest about it.

" Fine. It's exactly like that. Since you started dating that douchebag you lost yourself. All the things you promised not to compromise on in a relationship happened. You lost your bright personality, you stopped rambling about books, anime and flowers. Hell, you even stopped gardening and that was your therapy. You asked me to stop bringing you flower bulbs from all over the places I go on my work trips and you stopped hanging out with me or your other friends. You stopped wearing your signature perfume and your red lipstick you were so fond of. So I'm sorry, but you're not in a fucking healty relationship! And you're defending that stupid fuck who doesn't do anything with his life and stays at your place, without paying any fucking bill! You left yourself to be a mat for that guy, what is wrong with you!?"

You looked at Chuuya stunned. It seemed that the red head had a lot bottled up as well. For some reason his words stung and made you feel worse. He was right and you fully knew it, but you just couldn't let him know... You could not put him in danger.

Chuuya was deeply unaware of your internal struggles. He only knew what he was seeing and what you were letting him know lately, which wasn't a lot that's for sure. He felt relieved to have finally spoken his mind. At the same time, guilt was eating him alive. This was the first time he raised his voice at you in a serious manner, but he couldn't control it, his anger towards the entire situation had the best on him. You looked frightened to say at least and he could swear that he saw you flinch when he was using his hands to express his thoughts.

Something about your crunched posture, your fidgeting fingers, the way you looked very exhausted made him open his mouth.

"Does he hit you?"

Why didn't it cross his mind sooner? What if you were in an abusive relationship? Your boyfriend's controlling behavior was concerning enough, but if it was worse than he imagined and all this time he blamed you for not keeping your ground? A pit formed in his stomach, he was going to be sick.

"What?? What, no... Is not really like that." You avoided Chuuya's scrutinizing gaze and forced a smile.

He gently reached for your chin and turned your head to face him. His voice was soft, barely a whisper, his gentleness making your heart flutter. Was his calloused hand always this comforting?

"Please, please if anything don't lie to me, especially with things like this. I promised you that I will protect you no matter what, remember?"

"I can't" you shake your head "If I'm telling you everything you're going to act impulsively. He's going to hurt you, he said you'd be the first one to suffer, I'm sorry, I can't..." At this point your cheeks were stained by your tears, your hand cupping his near your face.

Chuuya's heart broke at the sight. It was pitiful, he blamed himself for it. If only he wasn't a coward when it came to feelings. He swore to himself that he'd keep you safe from the mafia world, but that did not mean that in other circumstances he wouldn't be there for you. With his thumb he wiped your tears away.

" I am not going to get hurt, I promise you. There isn't any chance for him to lay hand on me. Don't hide yourself from me anymore, please. You're hurting and it's killing me to see you like this."

Chuuya felt as close to you as ever. Even if you kept your distance from him in the last few months, even if you tried your best to hide the hell you were going to. So you just broke down crying.

Chuuya was quick to pull you towards his chest, wrapping his hand protectively around you. He caressed your back and gave you space to let it all out. He was hurting with you, he hated to see you cry, let alone seeing how broken and hurt you were. He felt like the wall that rose between the two of you had finally collapsed.

" Is ok, is ok, you're going to be okay. I'm here now, you're safe, no one is going to hurt you here, I'll make sure of it. You are safe sweetheart, you're safe." He kept whispering sweet nothings and encouragement words until you got to calm down a bit. He used his gravity manipulation powers to bring closer the tissues and then handed you one.

" You' sure you're ok?" Your nod made him feel at ease, at least for a moment. Then he just grabbed one of your hands and intertwined his fingers with yours, squeezing lightly, silently encouraging you to talk.

" I want you to pinky promise that you won't do anything stupid." Your glossy eyes made Chuuya chuckle.

" You know very well that I can't promise something like that, doll. I'm gn'a promise that I won't get hurt, that I can do."

Your glare only made him raise his shoulder, but that will have to do.

" He... He may or may not have raised his hands at me. I definitely do have some bruises over my body, but they appeared from what he calls accidents. I tripped, or I fell into the chairs from the kitchen but he pushed me..." Chuuya silently listened, his blood boiling in his veins. He was ready to hunt the bastard down and bring him into the Port Mafia's torture chambers.

" ... and I kept all this to myself because he's a member in the mafia and said that he would put you on their killing list if I said anything to anyone so I was scared..."

" WHAT!?" Chuuya couldn't believe what he was hearing, your boyfriend was a what and did what? It was like his worst nightmare came to life but in a very twisted way. That was not plausible, the members in the mafia know very well the consequences of using their status to commit shit like this. Unless it was about some weakling, a newbie who got the hands on a bit of power and now thought nothing would touch him. What the fuck happened?

" I know, I know, it was very dumb of me to stay in the relationship, but I was really scared for you and for my family..."

" No, no, that's not it. Tell me his name and what he told you about being in the Mafia. That motherfucker is about to lose his head."

"Chuuya, you promised that you're not going to do anything stupid!"

"No, doll. I promised that I won't get hurt. But that isn't why I'm saying it. The guy can't use his mafia status however he pleases. There are certain rules even in the Mafia."

You looked at him confused.

" How would you know?"

Chuuya inhaled deeply. It was time to come clean with everything.

" Because I'm an executive in the Mafia and I can guarantee that the motherfucker you're dating isn't going to go about his day and live to tell the tale. I'm sorry, I'm going to explain everything afterwards, I promise. He's at your apartment?"

You were so confused, not really registering what he was saying so you just nodded.

" You stay right here until I come back. Go take a shower, take a bath, go in my office and read a book or you can find some manga collections that I have previously prepared in case you happened to stay here. You can find pajamas for you in the guest room. I'll be back later."

" Where are you going?"

Chuuya smiled and placed a kiss on your forehead.

" I'm going to show that bastard what it actually means to be in the Mafia."

[spaceorphan18]

The other thing I've seen going around today (not here... on other sites) is discussion on when did Colin fall in love and...

Hmmm....

There are a couple of issues I have on this subject.

The first being, why is loving someone as a friend valued less than loving someone in a romantic capacity? It's just a different type of love. And, maybe this is a me thing, but sometimes I get frustrated that friendship is deemed less than romantic love.

(I mean, I could go on a full tangent about Penelope and Eloise, and how their friendship, and their love for each other, was another love story during Season 3 -- and that relationship to Penelope is just as important to her as the one with Colin. As is, Eloise and Colin's familial relationship - which is, again, another form of love.)

anyway, Penelope, we know, had romantic feelings right from the start. but they were childlike, in a way. Colin was a boy (and a person in general) who didn't laugh at her for being awkward. This meant the world to her. It was a childhood crush, that developed and matured into an actual friendship, and developed and matured into romantic love. These are two separate things that happen but are very intertwined for Penelope.

As for Colin - he says to his brothers that his feelings aren't some thunderbolt from the sky, and that they had developed over time. There isn't one point where he was bam! in love. It was always something simmering and taking shape.

And I mean - in Season 1, there was friendly affection there -- they grew up as literal children together. She was always around. They were fixtures in each other's lives, and it probably was a familial caring for her - in the way he cares for Eloise. There there are points in which he shows that she is special to him. He recognizes that she helps him understand himself. And that there's a unique dynamic there - beyond, hey, this girl is my sister's bff.

And then comes Season 2 - and the letters are incredibly important to their development. It starts an intimacy between them that they don't have with other people. It also lets them be open and vulnerable in a way that they aren't able to in person. There's a connection there. And a valuable one at that. And Colin sees her as a friend, and someone important and special in his life. The friendship is very real, and his love for her is there. Even if it is friendship that doesn't mean it's something less than how Penelope feels for him - it's just different.

And then the thing that does separate romantic love from friendship love is sexual desire -- and Colin doesn't really recognize this until they kiss, that he is attracted to her, as well as everything else. It compounds. So, by the time they finish up that carriage ride, there are three types of love going on -- familial, friendship, and romantic love, and Colin understands this enough to be sure in knowing that she's the one for him. (He also knows he has to lock her in, because she could develop all of that with someone else - she almost did - so that's also apart of the proposal, but i digress.)

I guess my long winded point is that it's odd to talk about Colin's love for Penelope in distinct moments, when it's all a spectrum, and overlapping kinds of love. And I mean - I think there's a better conversation to be had about what love is to Colin, how does he define it?

Because I think how we love is different person to person. And letting fictional characters be complex like that is really kind of fascinating (to me).

And I guess - what draws me to Polin (over Saphne and Kanthany) is that it's a love story where the foundation is friendship, and the specialness in that, is absolutely valued first, and romantic love stems from that, instead of vice versa.

But that's just me.

[gothamite-rambler]

The only one Ivy doesn't hate in the batfamily (minus maybe Barbara)

Poison Ivy and Harley Quinn were in a botany sanctuary as Ivy worked on her latest plan to protect her plant family even if it meant death to humans, minus her girlfriend Harley. Ivy was planning to use the plants for something nefarious that she hadn’t disclosed to her girlfriend yet, but Harley didn’t mind helping her one bit.

Harley (curious): So, we just spray this stuff you made on all of them?

Ivy sprayed her favorite flower with an extra spritz of her concocted spray from a few weeks ago while nodding.

Ivy: Mm-hm, that’s all I need you for, babe. After that, I’ll just say I worked alone.

Harley (simpering): You’d really do that for me?

Ivy: You’re my girlfriend. Of course, I’d take the fall for you.

Harley grinned, her heart swelling with delight. That smile, however, quickly turned to tension as she pointed behind Ivy. Ivy sighed, already guessing who had shown up.

Ivy (not turning around): Hey, Batman.

Batman (disappointed): You were expecting me, and yet you’re still doing this? Why?

Ivy: I’m clinically insane and on a mission to protect Mother Gaia! Sorry I care about the planet!

Batman (angry father voice): We’ve been over this!

Ivy (turning around): Do not talk to me like I am a child! Also, hey, Nightwing!

Nightwing, standing behind Batman, smiled brightly, clearly pleased that Ivy noticed him.

Nightwing (waving): Hi, Pam!

Batman: What? Pam?!

Ivy: That’s my name, but only friends can call me that.

Batman (taken aback): Friends?!

Harley: Aww, that’s sweet.

Nightwing: Yeah, we're frenemies.

Ivy (smirking): Exactly. We have different ideas of being a hero and protecting the planet, but he deserves kindness. Plus, look at that handsome face! Definitely not the face of a douche canoe who stole my best friend and made her a boring good guy. I still think she’s lying about your relationship. You have minute man energy if anything.

Nightwing (raising an eyebrow): Damn, she really doesn't like you.

Ivy (crossing her arms): Hey, Nightwing, if you’re fighting with him to defeat me, you’re free to go—but I understand if you have to do his bidding.

Batman growled angrily but he quickly refocused on the mission at hand.

Nightwing sheepishly avoided eye contact from his father, who was glaring daggers at him.

Nightwing: He… he probably wants me to stay and fight.

Batman sighed in exasperation, frustrated with how well Ivy and Nightwing got along. Nightwing chuckled nervously.

Nightwing: I’m not helping her commit crimes! I just agree with a few points in her mission statement, and if there's a way to help her legally, I will talk to her. She even gave me a pamphlet.

Batman (covering his face): Every day… I feel like I’m living in an endless nightmare with you two!

Ivy (snidely): Batman, flattery will get you nowhere.

Batman (to Ivy): How come he gets to call you Pam?

Ivy: I like him! He’s a good kid!

Nightwing beamed, clearly flattered.

Nightwing: Aww, thank you.

Batman: Oh Lord, Nightwing, sit this one out. You don’t want to get hurt by your “friend” who is evil!

Nightwing: All right! Call me if you need me to jump in or talk to Pam.

Batman (irritated): Stop calling her Pam!

Nightwing (mockingly): Nope, it bothers you, so I'm gonna keep doing it.

Nightwing walked over to where Harley was standing, who waved hello to him with her usual unintentionally terrifying grin. He sidestepped a few feet away, making Harley pout.

Ivy: Good kid. Batman, don’t be pissy—I’m on decent terms with him. He gets me. And no, Batman, I didn’t hit him with my pollen or anything. He’s smart, and I respect him. He gets my mission like Harley does… He’s neat. He’s a neat man.

Nightwing smiled happily at the compliment.

Batman: All right, that’s what I call him! Don’t use that on him!

Ivy chuckled, clapping sarcastically.

Ivy: Aww, did I hurt the Man of Steel's feelings because his sidekick is nice? Guess you can't keep your temper in check!

Batman: That’s Superman! I just… I need a freakin’ minute!

Batman walked away, shaking his head and muttering questions about Nightwing being so close with a villain. The sanctuary suddenly felt a lot more chaotic than ever before.

Nightwing: Oddly enough, you're not the only crook who I'm frenemies with.

Ivy (shrugging): I believe you. A couple of Arkham inmates say they like you.

Harley stepped closer to Nightwing, nodding with a surprisingly normal smile for her.

Nightwing: That's nice! I'm glad that I don’t have Batman energy all the time.

Batman (calling back): Don't say that like it's an insult.

Ivy: It kind of is. You can be a headache ninety-nine percent of the time.

Harley: That one percent means she doesn't completely hate you. That's reserved for the Joker.

Nightwing covered his mouth, chuckling, while Batman kept his distance, counting to ten silently in his head to let go of the fact that Ivy saw him as less grating than the Joker.

Batman: I'm going to accept that as a compliment and focus on the mission.

Ivy: Okay, douche canoe.

Batman (whispering to himself): Not going to let her get to me.

[chatonarya]

I love Enciodes's module. It adds so much to his character. It paints such a vivid picture of this lonely, grieving, frustrated, hurting youth, who nevertheless doggedly kept the spark of hope and idealism alive in his heart.

It's called "Snow Realm Fowlcare Kit," and is told from the perspective of Enciodes's perpetual companion: Tenzin. The image depicts an assortment of bird-related paraphernalia which Enciodes used (and perhaps still uses) to take care of Tenzin.

When it awoke, it found itself lying in a warm room. The unfamiliar environment frightened it and it wanted to leave, but it was in so much pain it could not move. The door opened, and through it strode a Feline boy with silver hair and a thick tail. He approached it with liniment and gauze in hand, applying the medicine in the bottle to the wound before bandaging it up. It struggled a little at first, but was too weak to do anything but accept the boy's treatment before falling into a deep slumber.

We open with how the two met: Tenzin awakening in Enciodes's room, afraid and hurt. Tenzin is first introduced to Enciodes with an act of kindness: cleansing and wrapping the bird's injury. We don't know what kind of injury it is, but considering how Tenzin is in pain too overwhelming to even move, I can only presume it's a grievous wound for a young bird, likely one which would lead to the creature's death if left untreated.

So right off the bat, we have the impression that Enciodes is the kind of the person who would come across a severely wounded animal and rescue it in the hopes that he might still be able to save its life. While Enciodes himself draws a distinction between his childhood self and his adult self, not unreasonably, this is something that we can still see the glimmers of--positive and negative--in him later on, not only in the way he saves Degenbrecher but in the way he seeks to save all of Kjerag from ruin.

On the second day, the boy took it back to where it had been found. They wandered through the woods for an entire day until the boy was exhausted and gasping for breath, but in the end found only the remains of two adult fowlbeasts. He built a small grave for them, then turned to it and said: 'Now, both of us are in the same boat.' The boy took it back to his room, and the tiny nest inside became its new home. The boy would come check on it every day. He liked to gently wipe its plumage while chatting with it, unconcerned with whether it could understand him.

Enciodes was so determined to return this baby bird home that he spent the whole day searching to the point of exhaustion to try to find Tenzin's parents. Not only that, but when he found them dead, he took the time to build them a grave. It's so sweet and pure of him to spend his time like this for a mere bird, particularly as we can see by the mention of them being "in the same boat" that this happened not long after the accident that took Olafur and Elizabeth. No doubt, struggling to cope with grief is what sent Enciodes wandering in the woods and finding Tenzin in the first place. And immediately, he finds this to be the point of connection between them: they're both orphans now. I can't help but wonder if Enciodes building a grave for the dead birds was a form of closure for him--Olafur and Elizabeth died in a train accident. Was there anything left of them to bury at all (if the Kjerags bury their dead)? Possibly not. At least he could give the birds a proper send-off.

And with no other choice, he doesn't hesitate to bring Tenzin back home with him, resolved to care for this feeble creature that he rescued, because who else would? They're in the same boat, after all.

It's also clear that caring for Tenzin gave Enciodes a much-needed psychological outlet, a form of healthy distraction from the many burdens on his shoulders and the loss of his parents. Looking after an injured animal even more helpless than himself and wholly dependent on him must have been a form of therapy and comfort for him, especially because it was someone he could talk to and who would listen and not judge him. Every single day, without fail, he wiped Tenzin's feathers and presumably changed the dressing of its wound, talking to it about his troubles--because he had no-one else to talk to.

...... Like that one night, when the boy approached it with a sullen face and said: 'I'm confident I have what it takes to be a strong clan leader or a good brother, but I cannot guarantee I can do both at once.' The boy sighed as he spoke. He contemplated for a long time, before finally running off to return with a box that smelled nice. Inside was his sister's favorite dish.

This one stings, and it wouldn't surprise me if this is foreshadowing for the final reveal of what was the argument between Enya and Enciodes the night before she went on the Saintess's trial. Enciodes, who has been groomed to become the clan's leader since virtually the moment he was born, has come to the painful realization that he has to choose between being a good leader and being a good brother, because he cannot do both at the same time.

This plays into a recurring theme in the Kjerag stories: choosing between family and leadership. We've seen it in the conflicts between the Browntail sisters and how they envy each other's position but most clearly with how Ratatos feel hollow and deprived of her sister's mundane happiness; in the way Arctosz chose to send Tatyana and Rosalind back to Ursus, as even being leader of Paleroches wasn't enough to guarantee their safety after the Silverashes were targeted; in the way Enciodes complains as a child that his own father can't even smile when he's with his family; and of course, in the ongoing conflict between Enciodes and Enya and how they must set aside their blood relation to each other in their leadership roles, and how those leadership roles further divide them from each other and from Ensia.

While for now, as he retrieves Enya's favorite dish, Enciodes is trying to do what he can for his sisters while he still can, we know his choice is a foregone conclusion: he chose to become a strong clan leader over being a good brother. Ultimately, he chose the clan and chose Kjerag as a whole over his relationship with his sisters, no doubt in part because he believes protecting Kjerag from the threats posed by the outside world is the best thing he can do for the country and for them as a whole, and in part because it was always his dream that Kjerag should, could, and would be more, as is seen in Gnosis's oprec. Enciodes has always been dissatisfied with Kjerag's standing in the world, and has always wanted to change this.

But we see here that as I said in my previous essay, he did not make that decision lightly and it was a decision that caused him emotional anguish. This module as a whole, as well as Gnosis's oprec, demonstrates painfully clearly that Enciodes was a normal child. He had his dreams, his quirks, his interests, his struggles--and he did, in fact, care about his family a normal amount. But he was forced to make a choice, and make a choice he did.

...... Like that one afternoon, when the boy approached it with a tinge of melancholy in his voice: 'I want to graciously wish Gnosis success on his new journey, yet I selfishly hope for him to stay.' Perhaps because he had been bottling it in for so long, the boy spent the next half hour explaining to it the situation of the Edelweiss clan, the difficulties facing Gnosis, and his reluctance to part ways with his best friend. In the end, he sighed again and said, 'Alas, you're the only who can hear me out. I'd better think of a farewell gift for him now.'

I talked about this in-depth in another post, so I'll try not to repeat myself. I'm glad to see it explicitly stated that Gnosis is Enciodes's best friend; likely, at this point, still his only friend, too. It breaks my heart how Enciodes is so stressed and has been bottling up his feelings about Gnosis in the wake of the blame being pinned on the Edelweisses that he pours his heart out to Tenzin for half an hour. Tenzin is the only one whom Enciodes can talk to about the Edelweisses and their hardships, which underscores just how bad their situation in Kjerag was and how awkward Enciodes's position must have been as the ostensible victim of theirs. It must have been difficult for Enciodes to even go on seeing Gnosis, much less openly associating with him as the son of his parents' murderers, after everything happened.

Enciodes knows the polite thing to do is bid Gnosis good luck going abroad, but he's unable to do this just yet because he selfishly, desperately, hopes that somehow Gnosis will stay. This is how much Gnosis means to him: even though it's possible that Gnosis's life will be in danger if he remains in Kjerag, his companionship is so important to Enciodes that even knowing all of this, even knowing that the Edelweisses are at the epicenter of all of Kjerag's hatred right now, Enciodes still wishes he could stay. He doesn't want to be alone. He doesn't want to be without Gnosis--his one friend, the one person who shares his dream and the one person who understands him and with whom he shares a deep connection outside of his family.

But alas: there is nothing Enciodes can do. He can't keep Gnosis there. Sooner rather than later, he has to bid Gnosis good-bye, and make him that promise one last time, "I'll come find you," probably fearful deep down that they'll never see each other again.

I wonder, also, what was Enciodes's farewell gift to Gnosis. (I'd be over the moon if Gnosis's second module was about this.) Gnosis probably gave him one of the traditional Edelweiss family knives if he hadn't already, but what could Enciodes give him? Something to remind Gnosis of him, their friendship, their shared dream, their promised future together.

...... And like that day when its wounds healed, and the boy took it out to the snowy plains to practice flying. When it was about to take off, he took out a black silk scarf, tied the fabric around its neck, and asked: 'Will you come with me?' —At that moment, the boy had already decided to set aside the burdens of being a clan leader and depart from the Snow Realm to study abroad. It simply cocked its head and looked at him. Of course, it did not know what the boy was worried about, why he was anxious, or why he was sad. But perhaps, it sensed that the boy, just like it, did not wish to stay confined in a warm room. He wished to soar beneath the blue sky— It spread its wings and leapt forward. Then, to the boy's happy, surprised shouts, it took off with the wind. On that day, it learned to fly once again.

As soon as Tenzin's wounds have healed, Enciodes takes it out to practice flying. If Tenzin was just a baby when Enciodes rescued it, it never even had to opportunity to learn to fly from its parents, but Enciodes is clearly resolved to find a way anyway, or maybe believes that Tenzin will somehow be able to do it through instinct. Yet first, he must ask it a question, as he's already made up his mind to continue on the path he'd previously chosen.

I love how he straight-up asks Tenzin if Tenzin will go with him. He's cared for this bird for probably weeks, spoken to and petted it on a daily basis, given it a home because it has no other--for all intents and purposes, it belongs to him now and will never be able to survive in the wild again, and even the scarf he ties around its neck can be taken as a symbol of ownership rather than a token of affection. Yet still, approaching the verge of departing Kjerag, he sees fit to ensure Tenzin can fly and has its own free will to choose whether or not it wants to go with him. Undoubtedly, Tenzin went with him to Victoria, and I'm sure Enciodes was happy to have his beloved pet as company in an unfamiliar country, particularly given how nervous and uncomfortable he is there.

It's beautiful as well how Tenzin is a metaphor for Enciodes himself in this last section. Through their long time together, even if Tenzin doesn't fully understand Enciodes's words or complex problems, it understands his emotions, and shares his joy and his sorrow. And through this bond, Tenzin feels that Enciodes, too, longs for freedom, for more beyond the comfortable isolation and willful ignorance of Kjerag--he, too, wants to fly. And Enciodes's determination, however battered, is inspiration for Tenzin to fly once more. They're one and the same in this last moment: two creatures both wounded albeit in different ways, seeking the earliest opportunity to spread their wings, literal and metaphorical.

(Here I must also note that this bird metaphor and seeking of freedom is a potential callback as well to Gnosis once more, as he also receives similar imagery in his EP and his oprec.)

And as Tenzin takes off, we know that Enciodes will soon take off as well, perhaps inspired in turn: the greatest changes to his character and person, not to mention the beginning of his practical experience and the true real foundation of his great endeavor, began when he departed the "warm room" of Kjerag and went to Victoria. As Tenzin learns to fly once more, Enciodes too will also learn to fly.

Reading the module, it's abundantly clear now why Enciodes is accompanied by Tenzin at almost every turn. Not only does he love Tenzin so much, he's cared for Tenzin since Tenzin was a little chick, and Tenzin chooses to go with him wherever he goes. (Similarly, I think I can say my headcanon of Enciodes lovingly choosing Tenzin's bandanas to match his own outfits is more or less confirmed.) They're inseparable companions.

It's also incredibly sweet how reading this, we can see that much as Enciodes hand-raised Tenzin, Tenzin has also watched Enciodes grow up: from a frustrated child into the powerful adult he is today, listening to his thoughts and secret worries all the while, at many instances being his sole comfort and confidante. I'd like to think that Tenzin harbors just as much affection for Enciodes as he must hold for it...

[yu-huuuu]

How would it be if Genin Sasuke, Naruto, Hinata, Rock Lee, Neji were in love with a deaf reader who is a ninja?

[ 🌸 ] they’re cute tho—

characters: sasuke uchiha; naruto uzumaki; hinata hyuga; rock lee; neji hyuga; +obito uchiha ;

genre: fluff ;;

warnings: none;; deaf reader;; people (kids) in love… idk

- - -

...

..

.

sasuke uchiha

Sasuke is not one to express his emotions openly, but he is very perceptive. Ever since he met you, he has realized that you have something special. Despite his cold and distant demeanor, Sasuke is drawn to your dedication and skills as a ninja. He watches you with an air of protection and admiration, although he rarely shows it outwardly. However, he has a hard time finding the right words, especially since nonverbal communication, like gestures or sign language, is not his strong suit.

Sometimes, you catch him staring at you in silence, unsure of how to express what he feels, and he becomes frustrated by the communication barrier. Often, he resorts to simple gestures or long glances, trying to convey his thoughts or feelings (which can work occasionally), while in his mind, there is a whirlwind of unspoken emotions. If he feels that his usual methods are insufficient, he might write you notes, even though carrying a notebook just to communicate can be bothersome.

When Sasuke finally manages to express something through signs or a language you both understand, it might be something as simple as, “Are you okay?” He’ll ask at random times, after a mission or training session. It takes him a while to open up, but little by little, you become someone important to him.

naruto uzumaki

Naruto, with his outgoing and energetic personality, would be someone who wouldn’t hesitate to make an effort to learn your sign language. He might be a little clumsy when trying to communicate with you at first, but his enthusiasm to include you and make you feel part of the group would be contagious. He would treat you with warmth and sincerity, always striving to make you feel comfortable.

Sometimes, his reactions could be impulsive and somewhat exaggerated, like when he tries to give you a gift but doesn’t know exactly what you would like. However, he would always try to make you laugh, finding ways to communicate through gestures, smiles, or even something as simple as a drawing in your notebook or something he made for you at the last minute.

When he's around you, Naruto tends to be very open, and although he can’t verbalize it as easily as he would like, his emotions are reflected in his attitude: he smiles more often, feels more confident, and is willing to protect you.

hinata hyuga

Hinata would be very shy at first, but her heart is pure and sincere. From the moment she saw you, she began to feel a strong admiration for you—not only for your skills as a ninja, but also for the way you face life with determination. She wouldn't dare express her feelings directly. However, if she doesn't know sign language (which is likely), she would try to communicate with you through written notes or small pieces of paper.

Hinata would approach you subtly, offering a shy smile, and would turn red if she felt close to you. (She would likely have a heart attack if you placed a hand on her shoulder to check if she's okay when she's in that state).

Sometimes, her gestures would speak louder than any words she can said: a touch on the shoulder, a tender look from afar. Without a doubt, her feelings would be quiet but deep, and they would show in the way you treat her.

rock lee

Lee, always full of energy and optimism, would be the most enthusiastic in showing you his affection. He wouldn't mind at all that you were deaf, because his passion for martial arts and his way of seeing the world are not limited by words. If he had to express himself, he would do so with exaggerated gestures, moving dynamically to make sure you could understand his emotions. (P.S. most of the time you don’t, but you don’t want to hurt his feelings, so you just smile, hoping he does will all make sense later.)

He might try to teach you some fighting techniques in a physical way, using his body to guide you, always showing admiration and respect for you as a ninja. Although he can be a bit clumsy at times, his support would be unconditional. If he felt nervous or too excited to be around you, his face would turn red, but he would still smile with joy. Lee would be the kind of person who, even without speaking, would be noticed for his dedication and his exuberant way of showing affection.

neji hyuga

Neji is very serious, but he has a noble heart. His attitude toward your limitations as a deaf person would be one of respect, and he would be interested in learning more about you and your abilities. Initially, he might seem distant or cold, but over time, he would come to recognize your worth as a ninja, which would only increase his admiration for you. At first, it would be difficult for him to express his feelings directly. He is not someone who uses many words, but his actions would always reflect his respect and affection for you.

Neji could be very protective, especially if he sees someone hurting you or underestimating you because of your deafness. He would not hesitate to defend you, even if he doesn’t know how to express himself verbally. When he feels close to you, he could be a little softer and more attentive—traits that are rare for him. If he ever developed deeper feelings, he would probably express them with a direct and firm look, though indirectly: "I don't need words to show that I trust you."

(+) obito uchiha

A Genin Obito in love would be a young man full of energy and enthusiasm, eager to learn and adapt in order to be close to you. He would be clumsy, that's for sure, but his love would be sincere and transparent.

He would try to express his affection both physically and emotionally, though his gestures might be more childish or playful. He would always seek to make you feel comfortable and special.

His passion for life and his desire to protect those he loves would be evident, but in a purer and more direct way, before what happened to him happens and he transforms into the darker Obito that we all know.

[mediocre-shark-tales]

Azerbajian GP Weekend Part 2

Masterlist

The engine hummed beneath me, a steady rhythm that barely masked the tension coiling in my chest. Halfway through the Azerbaijan Grand Prix, I was still holding P10. A solid position, but I couldn’t help the restless fire burning in my veins. The car felt good—responsive, nimble—but it wasn’t enough. Not for me. Not when I had to prove so much more than the others ever expected.

Santino’s words echoed in my mind like an unbearable buzz. I’d barely had a chance to catch my breath from the barrage of rumors swirling around me when his latest attempt to undermine me dropped like a bomb. Santino Ferrucci, a man who had never seen the value in anyone else unless it served him, was now playing his cards to feed the gossip machine. The same ex-teammate who’d made it clear from the moment I stepped into the F2 paddock that he wanted nothing to do with me. The same guy who didn’t even give me the chance to prove myself before deciding I was nothing more than a distraction. Now, somehow, he had the media eating out of his hand, painting me as some kind of problem child, someone who didn’t belong.

I gripped the steering wheel, teeth clenched, my eyes narrowing as I weaved through the unforgiving turns of the Baku City Circuit. The whispers—those rumors—were becoming louder and louder in the background of my mind. The media. The drivers. My ex-teammate. They all thought they could write my story for me, that they could decide my worth before I ever had a chance to prove myself.

But they were wrong.

I could feel the heat rising in me. The pressure to be perfect. To show them all that I was more than just a headline. That I was more than Santino’s petty attempts to tear me down. He didn’t know half of it. Didn’t understand how hard I’d worked, how much I’d sacrificed, or what I had to overcome just to be here. Every inch of my success had been earned, fought for—not given. And I wasn’t about to let a jealous ex-teammate or a handful of shallow opinions take that away from me.

As I entered the DRS zone, I could see the cars ahead of me, their tail lights glowing like targets. I knew I had to stay focused. Keep my head clear. If I was going to finish this race the way I wanted—no, the way I needed to—I couldn’t let their words break me.

With a snap of my fingers on the steering wheel, I activated the DRS. The rush of speed surged through me, and I pulled in on the cars ahead, inching closer to the top six. I didn’t have to look back to know that the battle for the points was heating up behind me, but I could feel the fire inside me intensifying with each lap, fueled by the hatred Santino had tried to spread.

They thought I’d fall. They thought the rumors would hold me back. They thought I couldn’t handle it.

But I was going to prove them wrong.

I floored the throttle, my mind locked in on the finish line. With every corner, every straight, I could feel the anger, the frustration, and the hunger building inside me. I wasn’t just racing against these drivers—I was racing against the world that had already counted me out. By the time I crossed the finish line, they wouldn’t just remember my name. They’d remember how hard I fought to earn my place.

P6.

It wasn’t just a position on the board. It was my victory. My revenge against the whispers, the lies, and the people who underestimated me.

And as the checkered flag waved in the distance, I knew one thing for sure: I would never, ever let anyone define me again.

The celebrations following the end of the race were a blur of cheers, high-fives, and the kind of joy that made all the hard work worth it. A smile finally returned to my face as it sunk in—I had done it. P6. I had crossed that finish line ahead of so many doubters, my heart racing with a mixture of exhaustion and triumph.

It felt surreal. After all the rumors, all the noise, all the moments of doubt—I had pushed through. And not only had I made it to the top ten, but I had also outperformed my own teammate, who had finished just behind me in P7. The pride I felt wasn’t just for the result, but for what it represented. I wasn’t just a placeholder. I wasn’t just surviving in this paddock. I was racing. I was competing. I was proving that I belonged here, every bit as much as anyone else.

Franco caught my eye across the paddock, grinning from ear to ear as he raised his fist in my direction. We’d both pushed so hard, and now, we had something to celebrate. It felt good to finally have something that belonged to me—something I had earned, without anyone’s help or approval.

I glanced over at the screen showing the final race standings, and there it was: P6. The numbers didn’t lie, and neither did my efforts. This race wasn’t just a win on the board—it was a win for everything I had fought against, everything I had pushed through. I had done more than prove myself to my team; I had proven something to myself. And that was worth celebrating.

Yet, when I finally reached the end of media pen, my smile quickly faded. I had barely stepped into the area when I saw who was waiting for me. Of course, it was him—the same interviewer who had tried to tear me down from the very beginning. The one who had asked all the probing, personal questions, pushing me to crack in front of the cameras. It wasn’t just that he had a way of twisting words; it was that he seemed to take pleasure in it.

I could see his smug expression as he adjusted his microphone, ready to ask the same pointed questions he always did. He had even been the one to interview my ex-teammate, Santino Ferrucci—the guy who had never once given me a chance to prove myself in F2, and whose lies about me had been used to fuel the worst rumors that followed me.

The thought of it was enough to make my blood simmer. I had worked my ass off to make it here, to get to this moment, and yet here I was again—staring down someone who was more interested in sensationalism than the hard work behind it all. It felt like a constant uphill battle, one I was tired of fighting, but I knew I couldn’t back down. Not now. Not when I had just shown the world what I was capable of.

I squared my shoulders, trying to push down the frustration rising in my chest. This wasn’t the time to show weakness, not with all that I had fought for hanging in the balance. 

I took a deep breath, trying to maintain my composure as the interviewer’s voice broke through the hum of the paddock.

“So, y/n,” he began, his tone already carrying the sharp edge I knew all too well, “there's still a lot of talk about your time away from racing. Many people are wondering why you left F2 so abruptly. Some say it was just a matter of timing, that you were simply ‘training’ for F1... but others think there’s more to the story.”

I could feel my jaw tighten as he carefully crafted his words. He wasn’t just asking for information—he was fishing, poking at a wound I wasn’t ready to reopen. I could hear the whispers in his voice, the way he implied I was hiding something.

I clenched my fists, but kept my face neutral. “I've already said this before,” I replied, my voice steady despite the rising anger bubbling beneath the surface. “I left to train. I needed to focus on becoming the best version of myself, and I made the choice to step away so I could be ready for the challenges ahead. And honestly, that’s all there is to it.”

His eyes narrowed, not buying it for a second. He pressed on, undeterred. “Right, right. But... you didn’t mention much about what happened during that time. Rumors have been circulating—specifically about your sudden departure and your reasons for being away. You see, many believe you had personal matters going on, things that weren’t exactly... racing-related. Some have even suggested your absence was tied to... other things.” He let the last part hang in the air like a threat.

I could feel the heat rising in my chest, my fists tightening into balls of anger. I could already tell where this was going, and I wasn’t going to let him drag it out. He wasn’t going to paint me as some secretive, unprofessional driver just because of his own assumptions and the garbage people like Santino had been spreading.

I stared him down, my voice cutting through the tense air. “You don’t know what you’re talking about,” I said, my tone unwavering. “You can ask all the questions you want, but the truth is, you’re just speculating. And frankly, I’m tired of answering questions based on rumors. So if you’re looking for some juicy story about me, you’re not going to find it here. I’ve moved on, and so should you.”

The interviewer wasn’t backing down. He smirked, pushing further, almost daring me to break. “You know, some of these rumors have real consequences. People in the paddock have talked about you being too emotional, not cut out for this level of competition. And others... well, they wonder why you’ve clung so tightly to that turtle necklace. Surely that’s a little... odd, don’t you think?”

The words hit me like a slap in the face. He was baiting me, trying to get me to say something that would let him twist it into another story. But this time, I wasn’t going to let him get away with it. The anger that had been simmering in my gut finally boiled over.

I leaned forward, my eyes narrowing as I locked onto his smug expression. “You want to know why I wear this necklace?” I said, my voice low and dangerous. “You want to know what it means?” I didn’t wait for him to answer. “It’s because of my mother. She passed away while I was away. I had to leave everything behind because she was dying. And now she’s gone. So if you want to keep throwing insults and rumors at me, go ahead. But you don’t know what it’s like to lose someone like that. You don’t know what I went through.”

The words hung in the air like a punch to the gut. The interviewer fell silent, his expression faltering as my words sank in. The entire paddock seemed to freeze, the tension hanging thick. I didn’t care about the cameras, the microphones, or the rumors anymore. This was the truth. My truth.

I took a steadying breath, still seething with anger, and stood up. “And as for the turtles,” I continued, my voice still shaking with emotion, “they’re a reminder of her. Not because I think I’m slow, but because she loved them. Because they remind me of her strength. She was a fighter. And I’m going to keep fighting for her. So you can keep spinning your stories, but I’m done talking to you.”

With that, I turned on my heel and walked away, leaving the stunned silence in my wake. I could feel every pair of eyes on me, but I didn’t care. The interview had turned into something else entirely—a moment of truth I wasn’t about to take back.

I didn’t know if I had silenced the interviewer or just made everything worse, but I didn’t care. For the first time in a long time, I felt like I had taken control. And if that meant walking away from this media circus, so be it. I had nothing to prove to them anymore.

I marched into my driver’s room, desperate for some space to breathe and escape from the chaos swirling around me. The weight of everything—rumors, lies, the pain of the day—settled deep in my chest, threatening to choke me. Tears burned behind my eyes, but I refused to let them fall. Not now. Not here.

I paced the room, my fists clenched, trying to keep the floodgates closed. But then, just a minute or two later, I heard a knock at the door. My heart skipped a beat, and I forced myself to take a deep breath before walking over to answer it.

When I cracked the door open, I was met with the sight of Franco, flanked by Lewis and, for some reason, Charles. I hesitated, unsure if I wanted to deal with anyone right now.

Franco noticed my reluctance and offered me a softer, sad smile. It was enough to break through the anger clouding my mind.

“Please, Hermosa,” he said gently, his tone filled with concern. “Let us chat in private. Just a few minutes. Please.”

I glanced over at Lewis and Charles, who were standing behind Franco, their expressions unreadable but soft enough that I could tell they weren’t here to make things harder for me. With a sigh, I pushed the door open a little wider, stepping aside to let them in.

The moment they entered, the tension in the room seemed to lighten slightly, but it didn’t take away the knot that had formed in my stomach. I wanted nothing more than to curl up and be left alone, but I knew they were here to help—whether I liked it or not.

Charles’s voice cut through the silence in the room, surprising me. He wasn’t usually the first to speak up, but the sincerity in his words caught me off guard.

“First, I want to apologize,” he began, his expression softening. “For allowing myself to believe the rumors, even for a second. I should have known better, especially after all these years. And I’m sorry. I know I can’t fully understand what you’ve been going through, but I can relate to losing a parent before they truly got to see you succeed. It’s one of the worst feelings in the world. I may not know what it’s like to hide behind rumors to protect your pain, but I know the grief of losing someone close to you.”

His words hit harder than I expected, and I could feel the weight of his empathy in his tone. Charles smiled at me, a smile that held more vulnerability than I’d ever seen from him before.

“I want to offer you my help. I want to be someone you can turn to, someone who will listen without judgment,” he continued. “It’s definitely owed to you, after everything... after ignoring you just because of some baseless rumors.”

I didn’t know how to respond at first. My heart felt heavy with the realization that someone who had once been indifferent—if not cold—toward me, was now standing here, offering support when I needed it most. I blinked, trying to gather my thoughts before I spoke, but the sincerity of his apology left me momentarily speechless.

Franco stepped forward then, placing a reassuring hand on my shoulder. "Hermosa, you don't have to say anything right now. Just know that we're here for you, whenever you're ready."

For the first time in what felt like ages, I allowed myself to relax—if only for a moment. I was still angry. I was still hurt. But, perhaps, things were starting to change.

Lewis’s voice broke the moment of silence, his tone lighter than before. “You don’t have to worry about that interviewer anymore, by the way,” he said, his words catching me off guard.

I raised an eyebrow, confused. "What do you mean?"

Lewis smirked, leaning back slightly with a look of satisfaction in his eyes. “Well, as much as I would have loved to be the one to hand his ass back to him on a silver platter, Max beat me to it.” He chuckled, clearly amused by the turn of events. “At least we found something else to agree on.”

I couldn’t help but let out a small, surprised laugh at his casual tone. It was good to hear that Max had stood up for me again. Franco’s smile widened, clearly relieved by the lighter shift in the conversation. “Good. That man deserved it,” he muttered under his breath, more to himself than anyone else.

I nodded slowly, taking in what they had said. Despite the chaos of the day, it was comforting to know that not everyone believed the rumors or enjoyed feeding into the drama. I appreciated their support, even if it was difficult for me to fully let go of the anger still simmering inside.

"Thanks, Lewis," I said, finally finding my voice again. Lewis shrugged nonchalantly, his grin still there. "We’ve all been there at some point. It’s about time some of the nonsense gets put to bed, don’t you think?"

I nodded, feeling a small weight lift from my chest. Suddenly, Franco let out a soft laugh and, without warning, shoved his phone into my hands. "You’ve got to see this," he said, his voice full of amusement.

I looked at him, confused for a moment, before I glanced down at the phone. Franco had already queued up a video, and my eyes went wide as I saw Max’s familiar figure step into the frame right after I had stormed off.

Max stood at the media pen, his jaw clenched and eyes narrowed as he stared directly at the interviewer who had just tried to tear me down. His voice cut through the air, sharper than I had ever heard it.

“If you want to keep making up lies about someone who’s just here to race, you can keep doing that,” Max started, his tone filled with frustration. “But don’t you ever come at her like that again. It’s one thing to talk trash, but you’ve crossed a line.”

The interviewer shifted uncomfortably, but Max wasn’t done. He stepped closer, his voice growing louder with each word, making sure everyone in the vicinity could hear him.

“You’ve been digging so deep, trying to unearth some dirty little secret, but all you’ve managed to do is expose yourself for what you really are—a pathetic excuse for a journalist," Max continued, his eyes burning with anger. "You think you know the full story, but you don’t know anything about what’s going on behind the scenes. You want to judge her? Let’s talk about your pathetic need to pry into people’s lives for a cheap headline."

He paused, letting the words hang in the air for a moment, giving the interviewer no room to respond.

"She's been protecting her family, dealing with a loss that most people would never understand. Her mother’s been gone for weeks now, and she’s been putting all of her energy into racing. All you’ve managed to do is twist that into something ugly. So next time you want to attack someone, maybe you should take a good look in the mirror and figure out who the real asshole is here.”

Max’s words hung in the air, silencing the crowd around him. The interviewer had no comeback, his face going pale. Max’s fierce defense had not only shut him down but had made it clear: he wasn’t going to let anyone continue to harass me without facing the consequences.

I stood there, a little in awe, feeling an unexpected warmth in my chest. Max had always been a competitor, but seeing him stand up for me like this... it was something else.

Franco let out a chuckle as I stared at the screen. "Max doesn't usually get involved in stuff like that, but... you’ve got to admit, it's nice to see him standing up for you."

I was almost speechless. Seeing Max, of all people, not just defend me but make such a statement to the media made me feel something I hadn’t expected—gratitude. I looked up at Franco, who was still grinning like a proud big brother.

“I... wow,” I muttered, still processing the video. “That’s... that’s really something.”

Franco smiled, his eyes softening as he watched me. “Told you. People are starting to see the truth.”

It was a small victory, but it felt like a step in the right direction. It was a reminder that, even in the midst of all the chaos, not everyone believed the rumors or was content to let them fly.

I exhaled slowly, trying to shake off the mix of emotions swirling inside me. "I guess maybe there's still hope for some of them, huh?"

"Absolutely," Franco said, his grin widening. "And you’ve got us. Always."

[milliesfishes]

hiiiiiiiiiiii millie mouse!!!!! hope you’re doing good bb :) i’m craving some billy fluff :( could you write up a lil something about billy babying reader a lil, maybes she upset about something? i just need some good old millie’s billy :(

-🧸🎀

ofc lovey! also oh millie's billy made me smile <3 <3

౨ৎ꣑ৎbilly babying you౨ৎ꣑ৎ fem reader x billy the kid

Shutting the door behind you and dropping your bag, you fled into the bedroom, flopping down face first atop the sheets you’d painstakingly straightened this morning. You could hear Billy in the other room, likely just coming in from a day outside, but you didn’t make a move. After today, you wanted but a few moments of peace before having to explain yourself.

It was always something when you went into town. Some apparent wrong move or gesture or word that stemmed from you, all criticized no matter what. You tried to be kind. All you ever wanted to be was kind. But it never seemed to be enough. You’d observed the other townspeople and tried to mimic them. After all, you weren’t born and raised here like so many of the other women, so maybe it was that you didn’t understand the dynamics yet.

But still nothing worked. You were shunned, even spoken cruelly to. Today, when you’d been purchasing a spool of yarn, you had complimented the dress of the woman ringing you up, and had been met with a frosty glare, a snipped one word answer.

All the way home you’d held it together, gripping the reins of your horse and trying not to cry over something so stupid. It wasn’t their fault- maybe you needed to be nicer, do some of the same activities they did. Still, tears poked at your eyes, and you didn’t let yourself cry until you were inside, even though there weren’t any neighbors for miles.

There was a wet spot in the bed where your tears had soaked in, and you burnt with shame over it. Covering it with your arms, you buried your face into them, back trembling as you let out everything suppressed from the second you stepped into the store. You hated that you were upset over this when you were the one who’d done something wrong. The only problem was that you couldn’t figure out what it was, and the frustration only made you cry more.

The bedroom door was opened, and you tried to slow down your crying to no avail. There was one set of footsteps, along with the pitter-patter of four paws on the floor. A weight was deposited on the bed, soft fur rubbing against your head as a throaty purr started up. When you felt a second tail brush against your back, you realized Billy must have carried one cat in while the other followed.

When his big, warm palm settled on your back, you sniffled, another bout of tears welling up. He gathered your hair, smoothing it carefully and pushing it to the side so he could rub your back. All the while, the two cats purred and nuzzled at your head, causing you to look up, lips twitching when you saw Willow’s pretty face and sleepy eyes. She must have been the one Billy carried in. Fish only teamed up with him when you were in distress, and even then that courtesy did not extend to picking-up privileges.

Billy continued his stroking as you sat up, leaning into him and wrapping your arms around his neck. The material of his shirt was worn from years of use, but you found comfort in familiarity. His hair was a mess from being under his hat, and one set of your fingers found the soft curls at the nape of his neck. He held you gently, starting to rock back and forth. It was a go-to when you were upset, and for a reason. Your tears began to slow down, softened by his love.

“Thought the cats might help,” he murmured into your hair, and a little laugh escaped you.

“They did,” you said, muffled by his chest. “You all did.”

Pulling back, you looked up into his eyes, seeing them brimming with worry the way you knew they would. He caught a stray tear with his thumb, smoothing over your cheekbone. “Are you hurt?”

“No,” you promised, and he visibly relaxed, just a little. Reaching up to hold his wrist, you could feel it all at the tip of your tongue, about to spill over. He had that effect on you, where you wanted to tell him everything. Billy softened the protective walls you’d built, found a key to your locked doors and asked if he could use it. But you found yourself letting him in anyways every time.

“I want them to like me,” you whispered, cheeks going rosy as you looked down. It was such a silly thing to cry over, but he didn’t act as though he thought so. “The people in town. I don’t know what I did wrong-“

“Nothing.” Billy cut you off, cupping your cheek as Fish rubbed at your side, prompting you to give him a scratch under the chin. “Baby you couldn’ta done anything wrong. Look at you.” He lifted his other hand, giving it a home at the other side of your face. “My perfect girl…couldn’t do bad if you tried.”

A weak smile lifted your lips. “I must have.”

His expression grew somber, and he exhaled softly, searching your eyes. “Honey…ain’t nothin’ you did, alright? If I know you I know you’ve been sweet as can be.” Billy brushed a strand of hair behind your ear, returning his hand to your cheek. “But some folks don’t like that I’m around.”

The pang in your heart stilled you for a moment. Just by the look in his eyes you knew he was telling the truth, but it wasn’t one you wanted to hear. He was trying to tell you it wasn’t your fault, but now you wanted it to be. It would be so much easier if it was something you could fix.

Reminders that not everybody loved him the way you did came often from all directions, and you avoided them at every turn. Refused to believe people could be so cruel, so critical of someone they hadn’t even met, who hadn’t done any wrong by the law for several years now. But it caught up everywhere you went, driving you to move around wherever the wind blew, hoping this would be the town where nobody had heard of him.

He’d promised this place would be special. That this was a place for staying. You’d settled in happily, believing him the way you always did. Billy avoided town as much as he could, so you had been positive that there wasn’t any reason to be cruel towards him. But now you’d been proved wrong. Even sparingly, they would always find a way.

Seeing the realization in your eyes, Billy pulled you in again, holding you tight to his chest. He dropped his lips to the top of your head, nose buried in your hair. “It’s not you, darlin’. Never you. They can’t get to me so they figure you’re the next best thing. It ain’t right, I’m so sorry, sweetheart.”

Your tears fell silently as a rush of shame washed over you. He was guilty because you hadn’t been able to handle yourself over one person’s unkindness. Slumping against his chest, you let him pull you onto his lap as he settled on the bed, the telltale thump of his boots hitting the floor as he nudged them off. Billy scooted back against the headboard, hauling you up under your arms and setting you back on his thighs, face hidden in his shoulder.

“You shouldn’t be punished for lovin’ someone,” he breathed, fingers bunching up and down over the space between your shoulders. “For seein’ good in every damn person. That’s just who you are and you should be praised for it. Not shunned. I’m sorry, baby, I’m so sorry.”

Shaking your head, you clung to his collar, nuzzling against his neck. “It’s not your fault.”

“Shh,” Billy soothed, laying another kiss to your hair. “It’s okay, sweet girl. It’s okay.” His thumb rubbed a relaxing path over your shoulder as you melted into him, calming as you became consumed by his presence.

The problem surrounded your bubble like a storm cloud, but you ignored it, choosing to revel in what you had. The man you loved, comforting you, letting you lean on him when you were upset. And it was bothering him too, you could feel the tension in his body, swept under the rug in favor of keeping you relaxed.

Fish and Willow curled up around you both, their sleepy purring only helping you further calm down. Billy kept you laying against his chest, his voice dropping to a whisper with the last of your tears and sniffling. “I know baby, I know.” He shifted slowly so that you were lying down on top of him, body between his lazily spread legs. “Shh, it’s okay.”

And it was. It all melted away as you snuggled into his chest, everything the world thought of you and him suddenly nothing.

There was only him and you and your cats, safely stowed away where nobody could touch you.