#people hearing this episode for the first time is just

[ssa-danhotchner]

Not alone | Aaron Hotchner x reader

summary: after Hotch recklessly risks his life, reader confronts him, refusing to let him self-destruct.

cw: 5x02, BAU reader, fem!reader, secret relationship, Hotch risking his life, Haley and Jack mentioned,

wc: 1.3k

note: watching these episodes is physically painful

The night was thick with tension, the red and blue lights from the police cruisers casting stark shadows on the pavement. Officers moved around the crime scene, speaking in low voices, their radios crackling with static.

But all you could hear was the ringing in your ears.

Your breath was shallow, your heartbeat erratic as your eyes locked onto Aaron Hotchner—the man who had just walked into a suspect’s house alone with no vest, no backup, no protection. The man who had barely made it out alive.

The BAU had been chasing Darren Call, a spree killer suffering from severe dissociative episodes. The man had snapped in a pharmacy, shooting down multiple people before vanishing into the city. The team had pieced together his traumatic childhood—his abusive father, the trigger that had set him off—but nothing had prepared you for what had just happened.

Hotch had ignored protocol.

Despite barely recovering from Foyet’s brutal attack. Despite the fact that he was still suffering from stab wounds, his body slow to heal. Despite the fact that just days ago, he had lost everything—Haley and Jack disappearing into witness protection, leaving him with nothing but a hollow house and the weight of a shattered life.

He had gone in alone.

And you had been forced to listen to it all over the comms.

The gunshots. The scuffle. The deafening silence.

The fear had nearly broken you.

Now, as he stood among the local officers, giving orders like nothing had happened, something inside you snapped.

Your feet moved before your brain could catch up.

“Hotch.”

Your voice cut through the noise, sharp, trembling with suppressed emotion.

He turned, his expression unreadable—but his eyes flickered with something beneath the surface. Something you recognized.

Weariness.

Pain.

Guilt.

But it wasn’t enough to douse the anger simmering inside you.

“We need to talk,” you ground out, barely keeping your voice steady.

Hotch exhaled through his nose, glancing around. He was hyper-aware of the team nearby—Morgan, Prentiss, and Rossi watching from a distance, concern evident on their faces. You could feel their eyes on you, but you didn’t care.

“Inside the SUV,” he said quietly.

You spun on your heel, stalking toward the black vehicle parked by the curb. The moment the doors shut behind you, the dam broke.

“What the hell were you thinking?”

His jaw tensed. “(Y/N)—”

“No,” you snapped, your voice cracking with barely contained rage. “You don’t get to brush this off. You went in there alone, Hotch. No vest. No backup. You were nearly killed.”

He sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “I had to—”

“You had to?” You let out a humorless laugh, hands shaking. “That’s bullshit. We had a plan. We were supposed to wait for backup. But you—you just walked in like your life doesn’t even matter anymore.”

His silence was deafening.

Your breath hitched as the truth slammed into you. “Oh my God.” You swallowed hard, your eyes stinging. “That’s what this is, isn’t it?”

Hotch finally looked at you, his expression blank. But his eyes—his eyes—told a different story.

“You don’t care if you live or die.”

His flinch was almost imperceptible, but you caught it.

You felt your stomach drop.

“This isn’t just about the case,” you whispered, your voice softer now, laced with something raw. “It’s about Foyet. About Haley and Jack.”

His gaze flickered, his control fracturing for the first time.

Your throat tightened. “They’re gone, and you’re acting like you have nothing left to lose.”

Hotch clenched his jaw, his breathing shallow. “That’s not true.”

“Isn’t it?” You wiped at your cheek, furious to find it damp with tears. “Because that’s sure as hell what it feels like. You’re throwing yourself into danger without thinking. You’re acting like—like your life doesn’t matter.”

His lips parted slightly, but no words came out.

Because you were right.

And it terrified you.

Your voice dropped to a whisper, barely audible above the pounding of your heart. “Do you even realize what it was like to sit there, listening to you risk your life and not being able to do a damn thing about it?”

Something inside him cracked.

Hotch exhaled sharply, running a hand down his face, his exhaustion bleeding through. “I don’t know how else to do this,” he admitted, his voice hoarse.

The confession made your chest tighten.

You reached for his hand before you could stop yourself, your fingers curling around his. His skin was warm, his grip hesitant—but he didn’t pull away.

“You don’t have to do it alone,” you whispered. “I know you lost them. I know it feels like everything is falling apart. But you still have people who care about you. People who need you.” You swallowed hard. “I need you.”

His breath hitched.

You had never said it out loud before.

Not like this.

His fingers tightened around yours, grounding both of you. His shoulders trembled slightly, as if he were barely keeping himself together.

For a moment, neither of you spoke.

Then, barely above a whisper—

“I’m sorry.”

The words were raw, almost broken.

Your eyes stung, but you nodded, squeezing his hand. “Just—be more careful,” you murmured. “Please.”

The moment was fragile, delicate—like a thread stretched too thin, threatening to snap.

Hotch’s fingers were still curled around yours, warm and solid despite the way his whole body seemed to tremble beneath the weight of everything he refused to say.

“I will,” he had promised.

But you knew it wasn’t that simple.

You sighed, your grip on his hand tightening. “Hotch, listen to me,” you said softly, your voice steady despite the storm still raging inside you. “I know you think you have to carry this alone. That it’s all on you. But it’s not.”

He swallowed, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he looked away, his jaw clenched like he was trying to hold himself together.

You shook your head. “You don’t have to be okay right now. You don’t have to pretend. I know you’re hurting—I know that losing Haley and Jack like this is killing you.”

His breath hitched, and his fingers twitched against yours.

“But you still have people who care about you,” you continued, voice unwavering. “You still have me.”

His head turned sharply at that, his dark eyes locking onto yours with an intensity that sent a shiver down your spine.

“I’m not going anywhere,” you whispered, your free hand reaching up, hesitating just for a second before cupping his face gently. Your thumb brushed along the faint bruise near his cheekbone—the one that hadn’t quite faded from Foyet’s attack.

His eyes fluttered shut at the touch, his exhale shaky.

“I don’t care how long it takes, or how hard it gets,” you murmured. “I’m here, Aaron. I’ll be here every step of the way.”

His name—his real name—fell from your lips like a secret, a reminder that despite the walls he built, you saw him. The man beneath the armor. The man who carried the weight of the world but never let anyone carry him.

His hands shifted, one moving to your thigh, the other hesitantly settling over your wrist where you still cupped his face, as if grounding himself.

“I don’t know how to do this,” he admitted, voice rough and raw.

You smiled softly, blinking back the sting of tears. “You don’t have to know how. You just have to let me in.”

For a moment, he said nothing. Just sat there, his thumb absently brushing over your skin as if memorizing the feel of you.

Then, in the smallest, quietest voice—one you weren’t sure you were meant to hear—

“I don’t deserve you.”

The words shattered something in you.

You moved instinctively, closing the space between you, pressing your forehead against his. “Don’t say that,” you whispered fiercely. “Don’t ever say that.”

His breath was warm against your lips, his body still tense, but his grip on you didn’t loosen. If anything, he held you tighter.

“You deserve to be happy, Hotch. You deserve to be loved,” you said, your voice thick with emotion. “And I love you.”

His breath hitched again, his whole body going rigid for a heartbeat.

You felt it before you saw it—the way his walls started to crumble, the way the weight of everything began to settle over him.

He didn’t say it back. Not yet.

But when he finally leaned into you, his forehead pressed against yours, his hands clutching onto you like a lifeline—

It was enough.

For now, it was enough.

And you weren’t going anywhere.

---

[mimikyuno]

things about ave mujica that are making me lose my mind

making a post to gather my thoughts after ep6 bc uhm. 😃

first off, WHERE IS UIKA!!! not only did she not appear ONCE in episode 6, but her angsty narration (which we usually hear throughout each episode) was also missing from episode 6!!! what!!! and the last time we saw her she was hugging saki’s pillow breathing in it and letting 2 mugs of coffee go cold in saki’s room. yearning and pining unstable style. im gonna lose my mind. UIKA COME BACK I NEED TO SEE YOU CRASH OUT SO BAD I NEED TO PICK YOUR BRAIN

I NEED SAKIKO TO BE OKAY ASAP. her situation is giving me palpitations i literally feel sick thinking about the position she is in rn. she lost EVERYTHING - her mom, her dad, her old life, crychic, her freedom, ave mujica, and mutsumi. she is living with a manipulative, controlling grandpa who robbed her of her freedom and treated her creative project she tried to use and get out of poverty and support herself and her dad as just a silly kid’s game that ended up as a mess he fixed for her. she found out her best friend has DID and her alter told her “YOU broke her and made her go dormant. i hate you. she might never be back”. and rn she’s deeply avoidant and dissociated and she feels she cannot/doesnt want to share what happened with her dad or her family so where to fucking start opening up??? and she’s alone and has to go through it alone anyway, so what’s the point? why would she ask for help? so she dissociates and avoids and rejects tomori’s kindness. and now soyo is pissed at her and no one understands what she’s going through and she’s all alone and putting up walls is the only way she’s not falling apart but everyone sees her as a villain with her walls up. im feeling sick im feeling sick im crying on the bus

CAN WE PLEASE ADDRESS HOW NYAMU GOT AN INFERIORITY COMPLEX ABOUT ACTING BC OF MUTSUMI’S “PERFORMANCE”?? WHEN MUTSUMI JUST HAD A MENTAL BREAKDOWN ON STAGE? like this is insane. GIRL SHE WASNT ACTING 😭 pls take up the acting job you wanted!! i feel bad for her she’s so deeply insecure she also needs help. someone help her

fr is umiri on T? her voice keeps getting lower every episode 😭 she’s trying to achieve butch levels never seen before in girls band anime, next episode she’s coming in with short hair and a carabiner ⛓️. jokes aside i need her to stop with the “im too cool to care” act and admit she cares about the members of avemuji and pls help them bc ngl i feel like she’s the most mentally stable of the bunch. tho looking at the opening i might be wrong tbh lmao

makes me insane how mortis is the protector but also she’s clearly a little - an alter who is still a child. i love her so much. but also like mortis and mutsumi need another fucking alter to mediate between them bc they’re giving me anxiety!! ALSO HELLO?? THEY FELL DOWN A FLIGHT OF STAIRS? had a public breakdown that got filmed by people as soyo shielded them??? they were locked in their room for like what, 2 months?? soyo spent 3 days and nights with mortis and mutusmi’s parents did not appear once bro. we saw one maid lead soyo to the room which was a WRECK and soyo was the one who helped tidy up. mutsumi’s family has completely given up on her and mortis, hid them like a dirty secret in their bedroom. it makes me sick i hate them i hate them

raana. that’s it. she makes me insane. aura farming like it’s a full time job

i need these girls to get help rn. please someone get them a group therapist im so fr

[bots-and-cons]

hi! saw requests were open and was wondering if you could do an ask where the human reader gets infected with dark energon but instead of being dangerous it turns them into a sort of herald of unicron, and the reader is constantly going back and forth from being there normal self with the bots to trying to fight off unicrons influence on their mind

A/N: You didn't really clearly mention who you wanted, so I just did who I felt like writing lol. Idk what this is, but it's what you get, I hope it's fine

You got exposed to dark energon, because of Megatron and you started acting strange

It wasn't really even noticeable at first, but it kept getting more intense

Ratchet was the first to notice, because he spends the most time with you, since he doesn't go on missions often and is usually at the base

You started hearing these whispering voices, and they kept getting louder over time

You didnt' even notice you'd started talking back to the voices, before Ratchet asked you about it

It didn't seem like you were just talking to yourself, so he got worried

He of course reported this to Optimus, so he was aware of what was going on with you

Optimus made the decision that you should stay at the base for the time being, until the effects subsided

You would've probably started some sort of cult if they let you around people

Eventually you started speaking about some really weird stuff, like how "Unicron will rise again" and "The end is near"

All kinds of doomsday stuff

Bee was kind of weirded out by all the stuff you were saying, because you really seemed to believe it when you were under Unicron's influence

Of course so was everyone else, but Bee especially for some reason

They were all worried about you, because even though time went by, the effects didn't seem to go away

When you were under the influence of the dark energon you also tried to sometimes sabotage the autobots, though you didn't realize you were doing it

When Ratchet was using different kinds of equipment, sometimes they would be broken or something

He of course knew it was you, but he couldn't really blame you since you were under the influence of Unicron, but it still annoyed him a lot

So someone had to kind of follow you around a lot of the time, to make sure you didn't do anything dangerous or break anything crucial

Bee, Arcee and Bulkhead sort of took turns babysitting you when you were going on about Unicron and wandering around the base

On the other hand, sometimes you're just fully yourself, and you have only little memory of the whole episode

Arcee especially thinks it's unnerving how the situation just changes so quickly and without warning

She keeps a really keen eye on you, because she wants to make sure you're safe and that you don't sabotage anything

[alba1221141]

Mary Janes

.˳·˖✶𓆩𓁺𓆪✶˖·˳.☁︎

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12

(T.W bpd episode towards the end, if that's at all triggering skip Jinx's second POV <3)

Jinx

The bass thrums through the walls, vibrating my bones, and the air reeks of sweat, liquor, and the sharp tang of people pretending they belong here.

Caitlyn Kirammans party.

Fucking fantastic.

I can already feel the chaos simmering, the way the room shifts with every new body that spills in.

I like it here. I thrive on it.

But Y/N? She’s quiet, like she always is. Not her scene, not even close. But she’s here, and that’s all that matters.

She’s standing next to me, like a little wallflower in a sea of jackasses.

We’re close enough that I can feel the tension rolling off her in waves, but neither of us has said a word about it.

We don’t need to.

It’s our thing.

Our secret.

I’m half-focused on Y/N, the way she’s standing there, shoulders pulled in, trying not to get noticed.

She doesn’t belong here, not like this. She’s got a quiet aura, a stark contrast to the noisy, wild energy around us.

But she’s with me, and that’s enough to keep my blood pumping. I can’t let her get lost in the crowd.

Cait and Mel swoop in like vultures, all manicured nails and perfectly placed grins, and before I can stop it, Y/N’s wrist is in Cait’s hand.

She barely has time to glance at me before they’re dragging her away, swallowed by the mass of bodies like she was never even standing next to me in the first place.

I feel my jaw clench, but I don’t move. I could. I could storm after her, could grab her back, could tell Cait to keep her prissy little hands to herself. But I don’t.

Because that’s not how this works.

Instead, I lean back against the wall, tapping my fingers against my thigh. Watching.

Mel says something, and Y/N laughs, but it’s that tight, polite laugh, the one she does when she’s being the good girl everyone expects her to be.

I fucking hate it.

I hate how easy it is for her to put that mask on, to pretend she’s one of them. I wonder if it ever gets exhausting, all that pretending.

Then I hear it.

“Alright, time for a game,” someone calls, and the crowd shifts, bodies pressing in as the living room turns into some kind of makeshift arena.

Great.

I push off the wall, weaving my way closer, close enough to see Y/N standing there, stiff as a damn board, while Cait and Mel laugh like they’ve already won something.

There’s a table in the center, scattered with shot glasses, a deck of cards, a stupid-looking bowl filled with crumpled-up slips of paper.

Truth or dare.

Of course.

I should’ve known Caitlyn and her bougie ass parties wouldn’t settle for anything normal.

I move to the edge of the crowd, close enough that I could step in if I wanted to. But Y/N’s shoulders are squared, her chin lifted just a little.

She’s handling it.

For now.

Mel reaches into the bowl first, plucking a slip and unfolding it like it holds the secrets of the universe. Then she smirks. “Y/N,” she says, her voice silky smooth, like she’s been waiting for this.

Y/N’s fingers twitch at her sides. “Truth.”

The air fucking shifts.

The question hangs, sharp and invasive, like it’s dissecting something private.

Y/N’s breath catches, just for a split second, but it’s enough for me to notice. Her back straightens, and her eyes dart around the room, like she’s looking for an escape.

Like there’s no way out.

I hate the way everyone’s looking at her now, waiting, eager. I hate that I can feel the pressure of their gaze too.

I hate that she’s stuck, caught in this moment where she has to lie or risk her privacy.

She looks at me, just for a breath, and I see it—the panic behind her eyes.

She can’t say it.

She can’t tell them about us.

And I get it.

But that doesn’t mean it doesn’t hurt.

“I… I don’t know,” she says finally, voice too steady, too practiced. “I haven’t really had a romantic moment recently.”

The words hit like a punch to the chest. Her voice is steady, but her eyes flicker—flicker—back to me, and I feel it.

It’s a lie.

A lie so heavy I can’t breathe.

Mel’s smile is wide and expectant, but Y/N can’t bring herself to meet it. Instead, she looks down at the floor, as if she’s trying to disappear into it.

The whole room is dead silent, like they’re waiting for her to elaborate. I can feel the weight of their curiosity, the subtle shift in energy. It’s too much. Too fucking much.

I stand there, frozen, while her words wrap around me like a noose. It’s not the truth. It’s not even close.

But I can’t force her to say it.

I won’t make her.

But God, does it hurt.

And then, without a word, Y/N stands up straighter, pasting that smile of hers back on.

It’s weak, like it’s barely holding together, but it’s there. She’s doing what she does best—pretending.

The game moves on, but it doesn’t matter anymore. I can’t shake the feeling that something has shifted.

I can feel the distance between us growing with every breath. And I can’t help but wonder how much longer we can keep pretending.

But I don’t ask. I don’t need to.

I already know the answer.

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Y/N

The weight of the moment lingers like a heavy fog, suffocating everything around me. The game moves on, people laughing, clinking glasses, like nothing’s wrong.

Like I didn’t just shatter something precious. But I feel it. The crack that just split between me and Jinx. The way her eyes—those eyes—refused to meet mine when I lied. When I denied what we were.

I don’t even realize I’m moving until I’m pushing through the crowd, desperate to catch up to her, desperate to fix whatever this is, before it breaks.

She’s already halfway out the door, her shoulders tense, her back a line of defiance. Like she’s preparing to leave. Like she’s already gone.

“Jinx!” I call, my voice a little too sharp, a little too broken, and the moment she hears me, she stops. But she doesn’t turn. She doesn’t give me the satisfaction of seeing her face, not yet.

I can hear her breath catch, feel the walls she’s putting up between us—cold, rigid, like she’s made of stone.

I take a step closer, and the words tumble out before I can stop them. “Jinx, wait. Please.”

She finally turns, but it’s not the way I want. She faces me with that look, the one that says everything’s messed up. That look that makes my chest tighten and my throat close. Her hands are clenched at her sides, her expression unreadable, like she’s afraid I’ll see too much.

“What do you want, Y/N?” Her voice is quiet, too calm, but I hear the edge underneath it, the tremor she’s hiding, and it's almost like my name tastes foul on her lips, there's no honey laced teasing. Just my name, so hollow and empty.

“Please, just let me explain,” I try again, my words tumbling over each other, desperate, pleading. “I didn’t mean it. You know I didn’t—”

“You didn’t mean it?” Her voice breaks, just a little, and I feel the sting of it deep in my chest. Her eyes narrow, and she steps forward, her gaze sharp, cutting through the distance. “You think I’m just some—some experiment to you?”

The words hit like a slap, and I stagger back, the realization sinking in like a weight I can’t shake.

“I didn’t mean it like that, Jinx, I—”

“Don’t.” She cuts me off, her voice low, deadly. “You don’t get to do that. You don’t get to use me when it’s convenient and then act like it’s nothing when things get real.”

Her words are a punch to the gut.

I open my mouth to argue, but nothing comes out. I can’t form the words. Because deep down, she’s right.

“You think I’m just some fucking game, Y/N? Some person you get to play with until you’re bored?” She’s shaking now, her breath ragged, fists clenched so tight her knuckles are white. “I’m not your fucking experiment. I’m not something you get to try out when it suits you and then throw away when it’s inconvenient.”

The hurt in her voice is a raw, jagged thing. It cuts deeper than any insult, any accusation. I want to reach out, to fix it, but I don’t know how.

“You never even told them the truth,” she continues, her voice trembling with rage and pain. “You lied to everyone. You lied to me. And now you’re telling me you didn’t mean it?”

I open my mouth, but the words stick in my throat. I didn’t mean it. But the truth... the truth feels like a weight I can’t bear to carry.

“I didn’t know how to—”

“Exactly,” she snaps. “You never knew how to. You don’t know what it’s like, Y/N, to be someone’s secret. To feel like you’re not even real.”

The words fall between us like shattered glass. And in that moment, I know she’s right. I’ve been so afraid of everything—of us, of the consequences—that I forgot she was real. That she wasn’t just some thing to hide away, tucked into the corners of my life where no one could see.

But now she’s here, raw and real, and she’s done pretending.

“Jinx, I’m sorry. I... I don’t want to lose you. Not like this.”

Her expression softens, just for a moment, but it’s not enough. Not enough to erase the hurt, the feeling that she’s already slipping through my fingers.

“Then stop making me feel like I’m nothing,” she says, her voice small, broken. “I’m not your fucking secret, Y/N. And I’m not some experiment you can toss aside when it gets too hard.”

I stand there, speechless, the weight of her words pressing down on me. And for the first time, I don’t know how to fix it.

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Jinx

“Pow, please, it’s scary—”

Y/N’s face is all scrunched up, like she can’t decide if she’s going to cry or scream, her little hands clutched together like they’re trying to hold herself together. She’s always been like that, so gentle, so careful.

I don’t understand it then. I don’t understand why she’s scared, why she’s pulling away. All I want is to make her laugh, to make her stop being afraid. I just want to see that soft smile, the one she only gives me.

But it’s not happening.

“Don’t be a baby, Y/N.” My voice comes out harsh, too sharp, the kind of thing that cuts when it’s not meant to. But I don’t see it. I can’t see it.

Her lip trembles, and she takes a step back.

“Pow, I—I don’t like it when you do that.”

I laugh, but it’s bitter. “What? You don’t like it when I make you laugh? When I make you feel something?”

She shakes her head, eyes wide, like she’s suddenly seeing me for the first time. It’s like the ground is shifting beneath me, and I don’t know how to stop it.

“Pow…”

I don’t hear her. I’m already moving, already too far gone in my head to care about her feelings. The world around me is spinning, and I’m trapped in it, my thoughts fraying. I want to push her, make her laugh again, make her stop being scared.

But instead, I see it. I see her, backing away from me, her small hands held up like shields, like I’m the thing she’s afraid of.

“Stop,” she whispers, so softly, so quietly, but it cuts deeper than anything she could’ve yelled at me.

And I freeze.

Because I’ve broken her.

“Y/N…”

“I can’t... be your friend anymore, Powder.”

Her words hit harder than any slap. They feel like they’re carving into me, leaving jagged pieces behind.

I open my mouth, but nothing comes out. Nothing that makes sense. I can’t fix it. I can’t make it better.

And she’s already gone.

I watch her walk away, and I can feel the walls closing in. My heart is pounding in my ears, and all I want is to reach out, to stop her, but my legs won’t move.

She’s gone.

And I never knew how to make her stay.

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The sound of my breathing is jagged—too loud—and I can’t catch it, like I’m suffocating on it.

It’s all I can hear. I’m drowning in it, in every breath that feels too thick, too wrong.

The walls are closing in.

The room is too small.

Too tight.

My chest—fuck—feels like someone’s wrapped their hands around my ribs and is squeezing, squeezing until I can’t take it anymore.

No—

I try to inhale, but my lungs are—they’re full of nothing.

I’m gasping, barely breathing, struggling to get air, struggling to stop my heart from exploding out of my chest.

Stop. Stop. Stop.

The thoughts start coming, jagged, violent, louder and louder, and I can’t escape them.

They’re fucking everywhere, stabbing me in the head like knives, ripping through my mind like a hurricane.

You fucked up. You always fuck up.

She’ll never love you.

I scream—louder, but it’s not enough.

It’s not enough to drown out the voices.

God, it’s not enough.

I can’t think.

I can’t feel anything but this, this overwhelming pressure, this suffocating weight pressing down on me, crushing me, until I’m nothing but a pile of shaking limbs.

I claw at my face, trying to make it stop, but the tears—they won’t stop.

Hot, fast, stinging, falling in streams I can’t control. My skin’s crawling.

I’m so fucking hot, like I’m burning alive, but then I feel cold, too cold, like I’m freezing from the inside out.

I scream again, a primal, ugly sound, and my hands shake so violently that they’re hitting the floor, knocking things over.

I don’t know what’s real anymore.

The walls are spinning. The floor is spinning.

I can’t make it stop.

Why didn’t you say it? Why didn’t you fight for her?

You fucked up.

I’m on my knees now, rocking back and forth, my body jerked with each shudder, each scream, each thought crashing through my skull.

I can’t stop moving. I can’t stop anything.

She doesn’t care.

YOU’RE NOTHING.

I can’t breathe. I clutch my chest, fingers digging into my skin, feeling the panic, the fire, the ice, the suffocating, overwhelming nothing that’s making me fucking disappear.

Why didn’t you just leave her alone?

You don’t matter. You never mattered.

I can’t hold it together. I can’t fix it. I can’t do anything but shake, scream, hurt.

And the voices—they’re fucking louder.

No one loves you!

You're a fucking mess!

I pull at my hair, tears streaming, gasping between sobs, but nothing helps. The world is spinning, and I don’t know what to do. I don’t know how to make it stop.

I scream again, thrashing, but there’s no relief. There’s nothing.

I’m drowning.

I’m drowning.

I close my eyes, wishing I could just stop, wishing I could just disappear. Anything. Anything to make it stop.

But it never does.

It never fucking stops.

.˳·˖✶𓆩𓁺𓆪✶˖·˳.☁︎

authors note: so the honeymoon phase wasn't for long, but there will be a very nice reconciliation

please like and reblog <3

also timebomb fic is out, if you like mary janes so far, it's a similar writing style and setting so go check it out :)

https://archiveofourown.org/works/62833570/chapters/160875787

[plummy-squish]

I just finished the book Cultish: The Language of Fanaticism by Amanda Montell. It’s about the language that cults will use to essentially brain wash their members (not in the typical brainwash way that you think about). It’s “the technical terms, the redefined words, the shorthand, the clichés, the euphemisms, logical distortions, and so on set members apart from and above their pedestrian neighbors, families, and coworkers". Montell does not necessarily view "cultish" – the "language" she identifies as the set of linguistic tricks cult leaders use to coerce and manipulate members – negatively, but she believes that people should at least be able to recognize it.”

Anyways fucked me up! In the past two days I’m seeing it everywhere, in marketing, in the slogans in my job, in popular work out groups, cliche phrases we all say…… and then i watched the latest episode of severance! I don’t think I’ll watch this show, and more specifically Mr Milchick and other unsevered employees the same.

In this last episode i wanna talk about that acronym ORTBO that they introduced because it’s the most obvious tactic that they used.

“Thought terminating clichés squash independent thinking” -Amanda montell

Episode 4 Spoilers ahead:

O- outdoor

R-retreat

T- team

B- building

O- occurrence

Wtf when have you ever heard this weirdly stated acronym? Well the innies do all the time! So this is normal for them to hear, i mean they are from the MDR department! Macrodata refinement, even with that longer version of the word it still doesn’t feel like a full explanation as to what their job does. But to them because they are introduced to it and taught to not question their bosses for fear of punishment and so they just go with it. Which now mdr has become part of their everyday vocabulary they don’t even question the meaning.

Cut to this episode, our innies are unconesntionally ripped out of their regular office space and put into this isolating harsh environment phrased as a reward. They are told they have been good enough to earn this trip and give it a title, the ORTBO, and they are very lucky to be experiencing this.

Later when they have been walking for a lot time, feeling lost and hungry are a considering eating a literal frozen dead seal because this “reward” isn’t feeling like a reward. Dylan reminds them, they are on an ORTBO and he repeats its vague meaning trying to convince them not to doubt the company. Almost trying to convince himself as well. This is the same Dylan that’s been getting fed incentives of seeing his family on the side and have been told he’s extra special. He has more to loose than anyone else right now and by repeating it is trying to stop everyone from doubting. Aka the orbto is working.

“Creating special language to influence people’s behavior and beliefs is so effective in part simply because speech is the first thing we’re willing to change about ourselves . . . and also the last thing we let go” -Amanda montell

Cults will make up words and introduce them in this way to make a group of people feel connected. Like they have been let into this new group of special workers allowed out side and given a term phrased as a reward to squash any train of thought leading to doubt or questioning. The further they go on this team building occurrence they will understand the reward.

They also use this new group language to make the group feel superior and anyone on the outside intrigued into what people are talking about. Making learning the language feel connecting with others and like you are understanding the deeper meaning. They feel superior and anyone on the outside feels like they are missing something.

Cross fit does this well! They have new work out terms like dms (delayed muscle soreness) so if a CrossFit gym bro is talking to a regular gym bro and uses the term DMS, the regular gym bro feels dumb for not knowing what this is and not keeping track of it. And is now curious as to what CrossFit has that he is missing before he knows it he’s sucked in. (I bet you they will bring back this term later if they can to alienate other employees in other departments)

Um hello even in the way they advertised this episode is using this tactic! They didn’t give us the meaning or context they gave us the word and now we wanna know what this new acronym is in the next episode.

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Severance universe has literally created a whole new language to keep certain people in the know and others confused. Watch for it!

It’s not always in acronym form; Sometimes it’s a saying, sometimes it’s just a common word given a double meaning to those in the group and out of the group.

Another day another dollar- something we hear all the time to make us just go to work and endure shit we shouldn’t

Doubt your doubts before you doubt your faith- something we would hear all the time growing up as Mormon to stop people from questioning and like it’s bad to have critical thought

Endowment- to people out side Mormonism it means gift people inside it’s a whole secret ritual that you are sworn to secrecy or off yourself before telling another soul

lol my work calls its self a village

Its everywhere! It’s in our marketing! It’s in our gyms! It’s at work! We don’t even notice because it’s working.

“Words are the medium through which belief systems are manufactured, nurtured, and reinforced, their fanaticism fundamentally could not exist without them.”-Amanda Montell

Anyways this book has fucked me up and has made severance even better for me

[astrobuggy]

After the LAES episode today, if I was Lunar, I'd lowkey leave- 🧍‍♂️

One of the main factors why Lunar even went to use NSP was bc he wanted to protect his family. Might as well commit 🤷

Plus, maybe it'll send a message to that ruin of a family (mostly to moon since I'm still lowkey upset at him for saying everything that the clones were saying to Lunar was true. That he needed to hear those comments. Comments literally telling him why he was even alive in the first place. Saying that, "Maybe he was better off dead." Also, since now, that little experience for Lunar is the main reason why Lunar puts himself down now; Talking about himself in an inferior lighting. And send another message that maybe Lunar wasn't all that selfish? Either way, the choices given to him could be considered selfish in some other way)

But ay! I'm just some petty mf who likes making people swallow their words at times :p Don't take my opinion 🤷‍♂️

[pynkhues]

Another fanfic writer got ran out of the fandom this weekend because of a 'guilty by association' harassment campaign. She wrote fic of Loustat switching and having a very Canonverse relationship, and a teenager started insulting her writing and inciting harassment by others until she quit writing. The allegation was she was mutuals with someone else who was assumed to be racist, which is flimsy enough, but the real reason was obviously that she wrote popular, beloved fics that did not subscribe to the Hypermasculine Daddy Lestat and Hyperfeminine Housewife Louis Fanon.

This fandom is a horrible place and I am so glad you're still with us and haven't let these people bully you into silence, Sophie. It's so awful.

I'm really, really sorry to hear that, anon. Can I ask who the author is? I'd like to have a look and maybe send them a message or a comment if I can. Hopefully they might be a bit like me though and come back after giving themselves some time and buffer.

It's all pretty hideous behaviour though, and mm - - okay, you know. It's been a few weeks since it all went down with me now, and I've had a lot of people reach out very kindly in DMs, and also had to have y'know, I guess I'd say offbeat, haha, and awkward and heavy conversations with people in my real life, both personally and professionally (although I will say it's kind of been a relief, and half my family has already turned it into a running joke. My mum, who was the first person I told, watched Disclaimer after I recommended it to her, and she keeps texting me photos of the Kevin Kline stalker character with 'your erotic fanfiction haters' and asking me if I'm sure I didn't kill somebody's son, lmao), but I've been thinking about it all a lot, and - - yeah.

Look, this is going to sound off topic, but bear with me for a minute, alright? Over the last two weeks, purely by coincidence, I listened to the Behind the Bastards episodes on Rush Limbaugh. I love that podcast in general, and those two episodes are fascinating, and really worth listening to if you're at all interested in the media landscape's pivot to the right in the last few years. They really explore who he is as a person, his ascent in radio, how he managed that ascent, and the space he created in media which would after him be filled by Fox News, Tucker Carlson, Joe Rogan,et al.

One of the ways that he did this was by being loud, but also presenting himself as trustworthy, and really the only person anyone needed to listen to. He was a smart guy, anyway, anyone could hear that, and if people listened to him, they'd be smart too. One of the first majorly successful runs of this was his campaign against the show Murphy Brown, which is about a woman who is a single mother and a lawyer, successful, bright, and who interacts with a lot of gay people in different capacities in her every day life. Murphy Brown is famous for being one of the first shows to normalise both successful single motherhood, and LGBTQI+ people as varied members of our communities.

Now, Limbaugh positioned the show as offensive, and anyone who liked it as morally wrong, but more than that, he positioned his opinion as the only right one, and he would actively tell people not only to not watch the show, but to not engage with anyone who might have an opinion of it that wasn't his own. He did this by telling people they would be stupid, or 'missing something' if they didn't follow his obvious intellect, that they didn't need to think about it themselves, because he would do the thinking for them, Smart Person That He Was.

And so I'm like, y'know, listening to the podcast on my commute to work, and I just kind of think - - huh. Because it's kind of familiar, right? And I got thinking about how all those people were reblogging my 'vile anti black post' and telling all their followers to block me, thus trying to control their followers ability to see my posts, and presumably the posts of others, since they seem to do that a bit, and then I noticed that those same people trying to ensure everyone blocked me.....didn't block me themselves. And it suddenly just clicked into place.

Fascist rhetoric has come to fandom. Per the Merriam-Webster Dictionary:

In simplest terms, fascism refers to a specific way of organizing a society: under fascism, a government ruled by a dictator controls the lives of the people in that society, and allows no dissent or disagreement. 

Fascism is more than just political, it's a philosphy and a mindset. Rush Limbaugh was a media figure, and he was a fascist, and interestingly - importantly - he did not believe in most of what he said. What he wanted was power, success, control, an audience, and to dictate the rhetoric in the media landscape because that granted him that power, success, control, and audience.

And look, I'm not saying these people attacking others with different opinions in the fandom are fascists, but they're using a fascist playbook. Their criticisms, harassment campaigns, threats to dox, actual doxxing, threats to not only involve but criminally endanger children (which I have since learnt my nephews were not the first target of - someone in this fandom who I won't name reached out to tell me they'd similarly threatened to send things to her children) (also I've seen posts that the people who initially were vocally strawmanning my arguments wouldn't do that, and sure, maybe they wouldn't, but all I can say is that if I knew members of my own corner of the fandom were threatening to find and send porn to any minor, let alone children as young as 7, I would be loudly and outspokenly condemning it), and attempts to suppress anything they don't agree with, is fascist behaviour.

They are allowing no dissent, no disagreement, and actively interfering with people's real lives to achieve that.

I don't think this will make any difference to them, I think some might not know what they're doing, but I think a lot do at this point, and I guess what I want to do in this post is just to share what I personally think that it is, and I guess - - mm, not offer words of advice exactly, but perhaps offer some gentle encouragement. I'd encourage anyone in this fandom - hell, everyone in life right now, given the state of things - to approach anyone who tells you there is only one way to create, only one way to enjoy something, or interpret something, or only a select group of people that you should listen to, with caution at the very least.

Fandom - again, hell, community - has always, to me, been about encouraging others to explore and engage with it on their own terms. Diversity of opinion is good, it's healthy, different takes on characters should be exciting, different iterations in fanart and fanfiction is a celebration of the fact that we bring our own stories to, well, stories, and anyone telling you who you should or shouldn't engage with without having a healthy, equal conversation about why you shouldn't engage with them, should be given respectful, reasonable doubt.

Anyway, I'm sure this'll piss people off again, but y'know, I don't really care about them at this point. I think their behaviour is ugly, antithetical to what fandom has always been about, and frankly, I think it's antisocial. I do care about you guys though, and I don't know. I hope this perhaps sheds a little bit of light for you in the same way that I felt it shed a little bit of light for me, or at least makes you think a little bit more broadly about what this desire to control is a part of, and how to engage (or rather, not) with it. But more than anything, I hope that author's okay, and that they've made friends in this fandom like I have who can offer their support.

[keelt9]

Episode 2

Masterlist / OP-2

The “small” dinner is everything less small, a couple of tables in the fountain garden as strange people along familiar faces walk around with drinks and eating appetizers. 

Ford and I stand in the entrance trying to process the anger, he extends his arm for I can grab it, looking into each other's eyes, we know it, let’s the show begin.

As we walk we say hi to family friends and small investors mom and dad had, all happy to see us.

“The little kids running around here now, two grown up adults.” We heard it said. 

Aunt Gina approaches with a glass on her hand. “Dressed in black.” 

Ford answers with his charming smile. “Going appropriate to the occasion.” People around us giggled as they split leaving aunt Gina and us. 

“Have you…” My question left in the air when we heard the raising voice of our father.

“HERE THEY ARE!” Ford and I grab Aunt Gina's arms with big pleading eyes.

“Please, don’t, don’t make us go there.” Aunt Gina laughs but turns us around, she’s sending us there. 

As we turn around we see mom and dad fancy dress surrounder for an amount of expensive suits smiling and asking us to come with their hands, one more turn around for a last begging but Aunt Gina is already talking with other people. 

We see each other, it’s not the way out. 

As we walk to the fancy people I bet both of us feel our disagreement increase in every step, also as we do it, I recognize a familiar face. 

“Ladies and gentlemans, our lovely twins.” Dad said with the normal proud smile on his face, grabbing mom's hand.

The honey boy.

“We heard a lot about you.” A man said with a drink in his hand, Zak Brown, the director of McLaren. “It’s a pleasure.”

Ford smirks as we shake hands with every person there, even with the honey boy.

“I bet you already know our drivers, we made an effort for them to be here.” The ego in every word, like this will be the hardest task to do; even when they search our father first, it makes Ford blood boil.

“We don’t actually, F1, is very far off our radar.” Ford spits back full straight holding my arm. “After all, you looked for our father first, still we keep wondering, why?”

“We can call it mutual.” Zak replied but he just kept hitting a hard wall, called Ford Esco.

“You can do it.” Ford smiles at me as I wink at him.

“We call it, for what it is.” I replay smiling at them. Mom smirks as dad just shakes his head, he knows the risk of it.

“Either way, it’s a pleasure.” Our political smiles are easily distinguishable from the way our parents look at us.

“I CAN’T BELIEVE IT, THEY HERE!” Mom giggles seeing at our backs. “THE ESCO TWINS!”

Raising his voice with a glass on his hand, Timothe, the only son of aunt Gina appears among the crowd wearing a fancy suit, a black one too. 

“If you excuse us.” Ford said as we turned around with a genuinely smile finding Tim on the way.

Tim hugs tight Ford, patting laud his back, then he tilts his head opening his arms, softly hugs me. “Mom said you need a hand to get out of there.” He whispered to me.

“Our savior.” I said as he nodded and raised his glass.

In our childhood we spent every weekend together, as we grew up and we went to college, our meetings became erratic; until that point, we see each other every Christmas and New Year, still being together is always a balm for the heart.

The rest of the dinner passed really smoothly, we kept far away but enjoyed the company of Tim and aunt Gina, by the time the toast came we thought we were mentally prepared.

With an awful speech about working like a team and all the things you need to say when you’re about to start a new business, set the beginning of the new alliance between McLaren and Altamira Cacao.

We hear and see people clap loudly when we barely can raise our hands, aunt Gina grabs Ford's hands for clapping and Tim grabs mine and does the same.

“I’ll keep an eye on them, don’t worry.” Tim said as we raised our glasses. “Otherwise, grandpas would want to rise from their graves.” 

I can’t agree more with that. 

After all the protocol ends, finally the “party” begins, people start to drink more freely. You can notice the ups and downs of the waitress and the loud laughs and cheerful conversation.

Ford and Tim quickly were pulled away by a couple of girls, after all they had that special charm that made them blush and giggle as fights for acting cool. 

I keep observing everything from the fountain, the school uniforms now are suits and dresses but the scene is the same as years ago.

“Do you mind if I stand here?” The honey boy said with a drink on his hand. 

The fountain is a proper distance from the talkings and the soft music from the violins. 

I shake my head barely looking at him, entertained for the way Ford purely laughs and the girl's face turns red. 

“You’re genuinely almost identical.” He said observing Ford too. “I mean, we heard that you’re identical but I thought it’s just something you say after you know people for so long but you are.”

“That’s why we’re twins.” I narrow my eyes. “Boy.” I point to Ford. “Girl.” I point at me. “But twins.”

The honey boy smirks. “You’re pretty though.” He said in the most random way causing me to scoff and he looked at me. “I mean, please don’t offend but you are.”

“You had a peculiar way of giving compliments.” I smile softly at him. “Am, no, I’m not offended. I would if you said my brother is prettier than me.”

He laughs as his head turns around. 

“I’m Oscar.” He extends his hand. “Oscar Piastri.”

I take his hand shaking it. “Y/N Esco.” 

“I want to introduce myself properly without the tense atmosphere around there.” He said let my hand go. “I think we're not your favorite partnership.”

Taking a sip of my drink I nod. “Long story, nothing against you, I mean, you'll drown here too.” 

He opened and closed his mouth moving his eyes around the place. “It’s ok, for the way my horse acts around you, I bet you’re a good one…of the few.”

My smile came automatically when he saw me with a soft one, a genuine one.

Our small talk was interrupted by Nanny who said a few of the guests were already leaving and wanted to say goodbye to Ford and I.

“Well, I have to go.” I stand feeling that sharp at my back making me scrunch my nose. “Keep having a good night Oscar.”

He nods with his head tilted but a concerned eyes.

The rest of the night I barely saw him among the crowd; by noon, Tim came with an idea, what about a bonfire like we were kids, runaway for this dinner. Ford and I didn't  need to think for more than one second.

We run away from the dinner and spend the night until the sunrise on the horizon, seeing how the bonfire extinguishes wearing our pjs and eating an insane amount of cookies, marshmallows and chocolate of course.

Around 6 am, we go back to the house; Ford and I right back to our rooms and Tim with aunt Gina, they will come back for dinner when all these people leave and before we do too to college and he to his work.

I woke up to the increasing mumbles outside of the house, with eyes barely open I went down to the kitchen where like usual Nanny is sitting reading a book.

“Morning.” I saw Nanny pointing to the table next to the window. “What?”

I jump, seeing Oscar sit having breakfast, looking at Nanny back. 

“He was left behind.” She said avoiding more questions. “Your parents took the few people that are still here, to downtown, this young boy and you were still sleeping.”

“Where is Ford?” Nanny giggles as she stands for serving my breakfast.

“He came down for water at the wrong time.” I walk slowly to the other side of the table. “Thankfully Mr. Viestro appears at the right time and asks him if he could go with him.”

That means Ford will be out all day. Mr. Viestro, he’s a friend for the family, he grew vanilla; with Ford in his last semesters of Agricultural Engineering he loved to spend the day there, hearing and walking around the place.

“He said if you want to go, call him and he will come to pick you.” Nanny said putting my plate and my juice in front of me.

Oscar seems so immersed in his phone, probably he ignores us all the time, so I actually consider…

“Please don’t worry about me, I’ll be in the living room, reading, if you don’t mind.” He feels our eyes on him but he doesn't lift his.

Nanny raises her shoulders and walks away, just in the moment Kaila enters, running her cap on and her boots too. 

“NANNY! Can you prepare me a huge sandwich?” Kaila didn't notice I’m there. “Dad will let me ride again. I don't want to be hungry and Vanilla must be hungry too.”

I giggle making her turn around. “I’m afraid Rachel won’t let you feed her with a sandwich.” 

Kaila smiles running at me as Nanny starts to prepare a small sandwich. “Why not? It has grains, vegetables, ham, and cheese.” 

I grabbed her face. “That’s good for you.” I wink at her. “A horse needs other things.” 

Kaia clicks her tongue. “Ok, Nanny, please a simple one.” 

Nanny nods, already in the last touch of her sandwich. “Hey! Honey boy.” 

Kaila makes me choke with my juice, as she extends her hand for a high five Oscar. “Y/N called you yesterday like that.”

“Kaila!” I said, trying to breathe again.

She downplayed importance. “I see you find a way to come here.” Oscar high five with her. “I’m Kaila, the pupil of Y/N.”

“Oscar.” He saw me before continuing. “The honey boy.”

I want to go with Ford, so bad.

Nanny saved me. “Ok, little pupil, let’s go. Sandwich ready.” Nanny gives her sandwich as she extends her hand for Kaila grabs it. “I’ll go with you, or else you'll let the big kids go out before Rachel ends her routine.”

Kaila already did it a couple of times, she cheated one of the boys in charge of the horse so he takes one of them to the arena where she keeps observing to the other side of the fence as she tells them about her day.

“Do you need anything else?” Nanny asked, grabbing my shoulder. Suggesting a way to erase the last minutes it’s foolish.

Still I just barely shake my head as my eyes go down to my plate.

“Everything is fine, thanks.” Oscar said standing. “I’ll be in the living room.”

Nanny and Kaila leave as he’s about to, but my mouth speaks before my brain processes my words. 

“Oscar, have you ever ridden a horse?” I hit my forehead mentally, I feel bad for him being locked in a living room with so many things to see around this place.

He turns around, hands in the front pocket of his hoodie. “No.”

“Do you want to?” I lifted my eyes ready to find a mocking expression, instead I found a soft smirk.

An hour later with my head clear due the breakfast and a bath I regret my words as I wait for him in my dad's office, next to the living room, spinning around his chair.

“I could leave him with the boys.” I whisper to myself. “That’s so rude.” I answer myself. 

I hide my face in my hands. “Damn it.”

The soft knock on the door before it opens let me know Oscar is there. I turn around to find him ready to go.

“Ready.” He said with a spark of excitement in his voice, definitely it would be rude to let him go alone.

We walked the same path that Bill guided him, the silence broke as we entered the stables where people are cleaning each one of them.

“It’s huge.” Oscar said as he observed each one of them. “I mean they seem huge but now it's absolutely huge.”

“Well, a horse must be there comfy and free, it must be huge.” I said waving my hand to the people who were cleaning the stables. “Have you ever been with a horse?”

“Of course.” He answers looking back as we walk outside of the stables. “Yesterday.”

I chuckle at the fact that is actually true. “I mean, yeah, but besides yesterday.”

“Oh, no, never.” We passed the arena, and we could start to see the green field. 

He observed carefully the open field surrounded by big trees with people walking around making sure the horses are fine but giving it their space. Next to the big tree, Marcus, James and Rachel are observing, Kaila just sits over Vanilla as she grabs the rein with a big smile on her face.

“Oh my.” Oscar lost the air in every word. “This is…”

“Beautiful.” I said as I stood next to him, he’s observing all around. 

“That is quite short.” He said looking at me with a smile. “Asthonign.” 

I smile at him. “Let’s go, Marcus and James will help you.”

“Wait, you don’t ride one?” I stop feeling my skin crawl but I get myself together without seeing him.

“I… I’m…I…” Oscar laid his hand over my shoulder so I could see him. I bet he noticed how it affects such a simple question.

“You want me to be the focus of the attention, I got it.” The moment my eyes meet his, he winks at me, strangely calming me.

The first one who saw me was Nebula, the oldest of our mare, gray with soft touches of black, 21 years old expressed in how calmly she approaches us with big eyes as she lends her head for me to extend my hand and she can touch it with her mouth.

“Holy!” The first impression didn’t change. Oscar exclaimed, jumping backwards, making me giggle. 

“Oscar met the oldest of all, Nebula.” Oscar mumbles a word of affirmation but he keeps his distance. “You know if you want to ride one, you must be close to one.” 

I grab his hand and extend his palm. “Just stay still.” Nebula carefully smelling him before leaning his mouth on his hand. 

“Hi Nebula.” He relaxes every second, Nebula walks away, letting know all the horses we’re here.

One by one approaches as I introduce them, but Pharaon keeps his distance just walking closer when Azabache comes to us. 

“He didn’t like me at all, huh?” Oscar mentioned after Azabache ran with his father. 

“I guess you must win him, gradually.” Oscar nods like he’s in the middle of a race with a goal to reach. 

“Now I see why there is so much fuss.” James approchs us. “James.” He extends his hand to Oscar. 

“Oscar.” He shook his hand, observing all the horses.

“He comes to ride one.” I keep thinking. “Well, I hope he does.”

James nods with a smile. “Right, I’ll go for…”

I observed around, taking my time with each one of them. Pharaon and Azabache are out of the list for sure, Nebula and Koa seem comfortable around him. 

“You choose between Nebula and Koa.” I said, extending my hand.

“What?” James chuckles, as Oscar observes the two horses. “Any suggestions?”

This time I genuinely laughed. “We just did, anyone you choose, you’ll be fine.”

He took a couple of seconds, then he glup. “Koa.”

For 30 minutes all around there were fighting for not laughing, after Koa was prepared with all he needed, Oscar got up with a slight tremble in his hands grabbing the lead tight for the way his knuckles turned white and his legs grabbed tight the back of Koa. 

Koa keeps sighing but he stays calm. 

“I’ll give him a hand.” I said walking back where Marcus and James are with Oscar trying to calm him down.

“Yes, please, otherwise, Koa will be mad by the end of the day.” Rachel said as Kaila shared her sandwich with her. 

I reached them, Oscar seems to be fighting for his life over Koa. “Can I?” 

James and Marcus nod, giving us a proper distance, Oscar sighs. “That bad, huh?”

I click my tongue patting Koa's head. “To be a guy who drives a car so freaking fast, yeah.” 

Oscar laughs, relaxing the grip over the lead. “The car isn't alive, he is.”

“And you’re making him give up.” I put my hand over his and guide to the side of the Koa’s neck.

Koa’s heartbeat calmly as he breathes in slowly, Oscar wide open his eyes, feeling the heartbeat. 

“Close your eyes.” He does as I keep talking. “And take a deep breath with him.” He does. “See, he trusts you, now, it’s your turn to trust him.”

Oscar keeps like that for a couple of seconds, until he opens his eyes, sits properly and nods to me. His body relaxes, knuckles back to his normal color, and his legs relax at both sides of Koa.

I pat the back of Koa twice so he starts to walk with a trembling but calm driver over his back.

We spend a full day with the horses as Oscar asks questions about all he can; we answer each one of them calmly, kind of surprised that he’s so interested in them. When lunch time reaches us, Nanny sends us a small picnic so we eat it under one of the small tents next to the open field, with the horses just perking from time to time and see if we are still there. 

As the sun came down, it’s time for the horses to go back to getting ready to rest. One by one Oscar waves his hand and says goodbye with their names. 

Pharaon didn’t turn around; he just kept pushing Azabache as he continued walking; Koa was another story. He waits until Oscar extends his hand for he leans his mouth over his. 

“Sorry big boy.” Oscar apologizes, Koa sighs as he keeps walking. “THANK YOU!” 

He turns around with a big smile. “And thanks to you.” He breath in. “Thanks to you too, I have an amazing day.”

I nod, even though it's 6 pm, the weather starts to get cold, the temperature drops and the fact I just barely sit, makes my back hurt, as I shiver. 

Oscar takes his hoodie and puts it over my shoulders, taking me by a surprise. “Sorry, you must be tired and I kept you…”

“It’s not you.” The breeze brings the strong smell of the cacao. “I had an accident a couple of years ago.”

I don’t know if it’s because of my tiredness or the strange warmth I feel but I feel a need to speak with someone who doesn’t look at me with sadness.

I need to let it out.

A couple of years ago, mom found a horse along the road, it seemed tired, sick and in really bad conditions, due Rachel's rejection that he stay, mom insisted that she wouldn’t let it alone. 

Rachel didn't mean that, she meant to make sure someone who specializes in this kind of cases will come for him that night, but mom insisted that who better than hers. 

Around that time I was in a pretty good moment; a few months ago I just won my second championship with Obsidian; Cocoa just got pregnant so she was out of any kind of plans for equestrian.

For months we keep an eye on that horse, at the beginning he seems reluctant to anyone approach him but with time he starts to trust on us; as I keep training with Obsidian he begins to get related with the oher horses, so we believed he was actually making progress with us. Rachel, James and Pharaon didn’t believe the same.

With the beginning of another championship, I was pretty excited, the kind of emotions that clouds any rational thought. 

One day as I saw Nebula keep calm around the new horse, an irrational idea crossed my mind. I wanted to train the new boy.

He was never riding for someone, it was a stupidly thought and everyone warned me that but I think like mom, if she gave him a chance why would I not.

Apparently he waited for us to put all over him as I prepared myself watching him into his eyes, any warning signs were visible. 

James, Bill and Walther, my coach, keep by our side as I get over him, and we wait.

I asked them to please keep their distance, we were on the open field so he would remain calm.

Until he didn't.

By the time they all took their distance he walked away and then started to jump even though I tried to calm him down he was so scared and freaked out that he refused to listen. I tried to grab the reins tight but slowly I started to get scared too.

When Cocoa noticed what was happening, she ran to me but that was the only thing I needed to get distracted.

She was in her last month of pregnancy, forcing her could bring bad consequences.

Without realising I loosen my grip, the horse stands on two legs and I fall backwards.

“The only thing I remember was seeing Cocoa getting between me and the horse standing on two legs.” We walk until the small hill where we sit, Oscar observing me carefully. “I woke up 5 days later with …a massive pain all over my body.” I wipe a tear. “I just want to know one thing.”

“About Cocoa.” He complet my phrase as I nodded.

“She had premature labour, even Rachel and James did everything they could, Cocoa has the appearance of only being tired…” Oscar grabs my hand tight. “While I was stuck in a fucking hospital bed, she was fighting for keep another day alive.”

I gripped his hand trying to gain strength. “She died 10 days later.” I let the tears run. “As I was in the middle of surgery.”

I take my time, unable to stop the words coming out.

“I really really tried to stand up, physically and mentally, but when I finally thought and rode a horse, a strong and constant pain appeared on my ribs.” I lift the Oscars hoodie, and my clothes so he can see the bump magenta scar at the side of my ribs.

“8 months ago I underwent another surgery.” Oscar helps me to set my clothes back again. “This time the doctors decided to keep my diagnosis as a be anyone's call.”

“And?” He looks hopeful for the way he grips right and moves his eyes around my face.

“I don't know.” I take my hand. “Monthly I received a letter with the diagnosis but I never dare to open it.” 

“Why?!” He sat facing me. “I mean, why? You love this, I can clearly see if, why…why?”

“I'm scared.” I put my hands on the pocket of the hoodie. “I lost Cocoa, I loved her till the end of the world.”

I sigh. “I fool myself, pretending I can still have a hope of being up on a horse one more time.”

“What if you actually could?!” Oscar stands walking around me. “I mean what if the letter has the words you need.”

“What if it doesn't?” He probably won't realise it but we started to walk back to the house as he kept thinking and saying things that could help me.

“I probably me…why did you tell me this?” Making me smirk.

“Why not?” I open the door of the kitchen. “You listen and look at me with hope. I'm thankful for that besides I haven't anything to lose.”

Oscar holds the door as I get in. “You're a formula one driver, until yesterday someone we didn’t know each other existed, probably you would forget this in 3-4 days, and it's ok, I'm ok with that.”

Oscar blinked a couple of times but he didn't have time to answer because one of the people who came with them found us in the hallway of the living room.

“Oscar, leaving in 20.”

I took the hoodie and gave it to him. “Thanks Oscar, thank you so much.”

[nightmare-of-homophobes]

THIS, EXACTLY THIS!!!

Donna's compassion is such a beautiful and very unique thing about her that is truly disrespectful to try to describe her with anything that doesn't involve this word. Planet of the Ood is one of my favourite episodes of season 4 precisely because I think it is where we get to see Donna's compassion in its "whole" extension.

I know we see her more than ready to blow herself with the Doctor in Pompeii just an episode before, but here is kinda different. She just went through an almost death experience and finds herself in a completely strange planet (her first outside Earth). She gets caught in the whole situation with the Oods and yet she doesn't back up or tries to convince the Doctor to not get involved, she actually IS (again) the one who guides the Doctor's morale by asking the right questions.

And this desire to help is simply amazing to watch, especially when she asks to hear the Ood's song because we get to see this woman, who has known this alien species for such a short time, so willing to help that she cries out of empathy, care and incapacity by hearing their lament.

But the cruelty of the situation doesn't hold her back, if something then it only adds fuel for her to fight for them with double effort.

Another great point you made was how Donna accepts the Doctor's previous companions. Donna is always so ready to take them aboard the TARDIS and share with other people what is supposed to be her journey of adventures with the Doctor - and while I know this is something supported by the fact that canon tendonna is (queer)platonic, I still can't imagine a scenario where, for example, Rose would be willing to share the Doctor's attention with another woman or where Donna would try to impose to the Doctor something as if she owns him (which happened with other companions).

Donna Noble is literally the best person for the Doctor to be and this is the hill I'll ever die on (dude literally lost his mind after losing her and tried defying time, if this isn't something then I should dig my grave immediately).

a really long rant about why this comment is wrong

i have talked about this time and time again, but the way the doctor who fandom treats donna is so weird.

“[donna] and her character are both arrogant and unpleasant.”

first of all, let’s discuss the “arrogant” portion of this statement.

donna noble has a hard exterior. she has been so put down in her life that her shell is the only thing that she feels will protect her from anymore heartbreak and disappointment! she acts aloof and above others because she feels the exact OPPOSITE. it is proven time and time again that donna feels deeply for others and has even put herself in actual life threatening situations because she CARES that much about others. it also makes no sense to call her arrogant when half of her lines are her demeaning herself and her arc is literally her acceptance of the fact that she IS special and she CAN BE worth something to someone.

second of all, unpleasant? what i’ve found is that donna haters say unpleasant to mean “not complacent in every idiotic idea the doctor has.” its misogyny at its finest. they want donna to be head over heels and awed by everything the doctor does. when she treats him as an equal, they hate it because they’re so used to the women in doctor who thinking the doctor is all knowing and amazing. donna saw him for how he really was before she got his persona.

the thing about donna and the doctor is they are two sides of the same coin. one knows he’s supposed to be important and has a hard time coping with that, and one is convinced she can never be seen as anything but a failure to other people. they both put on a mask of false confidence, but they both understand that neither is okay.

“constant bad behavior and insults are [donna’s] idea of fun.”

yeah, and so is ten’s. that’s why they work so well together. he loved every conversation and argument they had. he held her in such high regard and their banter was a part of what he loved so much about her. it set her apart from other companions. it kept him in check, it made him reevaluate his ego and decisions. not to mention that “bad behavior” and those insults stopped him from literally offing himself.

in conclusion:

the doctor would hate this person, the doctor would hate a lot of the people in this fandom who mistreat and mischaracterize donna. a lot of you are way to comfortable perpetuating misogyny. this isn’t the first time i’ve seen comments like this made about her. i’ve even seen whovians on here be awful about her and disgustingly mischaracterize both her AND the doctor’s feelings about her. i’m tired of seeing it!

[turtleblogatlast]

Something I like about Leo is that he’s honestly really chill? It’s easy to remember the moments where he’s being obnoxious or excitable but I feel like most of the time he’s incredibly “go with the flow” and has an overall affable demeanor.

[incorrectsibunaquotes]

the season 1 finale of het huis anubis is actually so insane LMFAO

[2-the-moon-and-2-saturn]

i hear what you’re saying and i agree that they tried, but the way i see it, they wrote too much story with too little time to tell it. the result is that there was a lot of stuff just up in the air for fans to either grab or remain unaware of. the biggest issue, in my opinion, was one of prioritization. at the end of the day, i feel like at times they just made the wrong decisions regarding which storylines would end up getting screentime.

for example, i really like billy’s character, i’m not a hater by any means, but somehow it feels like his episode cleared up more about his origins than agatha’s did about hers. and that’s ludicrous when you consider that this is literally her show. how did we come out of it after nine episodes still knowing so little about her?

and obviously this kind of information (that she and rio were married, that they wanted nicholas to look like rio) is important in order to understand agatha, because jac is trying to let us know about them now. i mean, it amps everything up so much!

agatha harkness, who had recently been near-murdered by her own coven trusted someone enough to marry them sometime in the fifty odd-years between that and her child’s birth. that’s remarkable, considering a witch’s regular lifespan and the trust issues we know agatha has. and it illustrates how devastated, how betrayed she must have felt when her wife killed their child so much better than the way the show put it.

it’s not even about shipping agathario or wanting to get more of a lesbian couple (though i do and i do), it’s that there are still so many questions about agatha left unanswered and we will likely never get to revisit them. this is it. this is about as deeply as we’ll ever know agatha harkness (because she will definitely be a supporting character from now on if there’s no season two). that just makes me so sad.

anyways, jac is obviously an incredibly talented individual and did a beautiful job both with wandavision and with aaa. there was some incredible writing in there and the way she handles grief is just stunningly heartbreaking. however, i do feel like she fumbled when it comes to certain aspects of the way she told agatha’s story.

i’m glad she’s made it so clear that they worked on agatha’s backstory a lot behind the scenes – it seems to have been important for her, and is probably how she managed to get anything across with so little screentime (that, and damn good actors) – but it just didn’t translate into the series as much as it should have (at least, that’s the way i see it). from a storytelling pov, it shouldn’t be necessary for her to still clear up details so long after it ended, you know?

idk, i just feel like either you leave the audience to reach their own conclusions or you make it so that the series says everything you want it to say, but when you reveal so much in interviews after the fact, it just seems like you should have done a better job getting the message across on the screen.

this is only my opinion, of course, and i agree we need more people like jac writing for the mcu, not less. i don’t think that first post made it abundantly clear, because honestly i was just peeved and wanted to get it out somewhere, but i admire jac shaefer’s work a lot, and i love agatha all along. episode seven specifically is one of the best episodes of anything i have ever watched in my life. i still think it’s important to acknowledge its flaws, though.

imo it did seem very obvious that the energy agathario were giving off was that of an estranged married couple, but goddamnit, jac, you should have devoted more time to this. it’s not fair to show as little as you did and then fill in the blanks in interviews over time. it’s been this way since the series came out and we deserve better. it’s poor storytelling and it just looks like fanservice

[musical-chick-13]

Like. The last thing I'm going to say is that I see a lot of comments about how "Well Americans probably deserve whatever is coming to them" because [some variation of how we are all equally violent and stupid and of course we elected this guy] and I will be the FIRST one to go, "Fuck America for real, I hate it here" but. There are in fact millions of people who did not want this. Who actively fought against it and will continue to do so.

BELIEVE ME, I understand the impulse to go, "Well with all the shit America has done to the rest of the world, why should I feel bad for them." I understand that compassion fatigue is real. And I DEFINITELY don't think it's the rest of the world's job to fight my battles for me or prioritize my feelings above anyone else's.

But if people are worried for their safety. If they're scared. If they're wondering how they and the people they love are going to survive the next few years. If people are feeling despair and despondence over the fact that they are stuck in an absolutely hellish landscape they did not ask for. Just...please let them have that. You don't have to tell them that you think they deserve it.

[seaweedstarshine]

Late to the game as I’ve kinda been kinda non-here for a minute but I scrolled through the Dot and Bubble tag, and thought I wanted to write this post into existence.

There's this part in Doctor Who Unleashed where RTD says this:

“What we can’t tell is how many people will have worked that out before the ending. Because they’ve seen white person after white person after white person, and television these days is very diverse. I wonder, will you be ten minutes into it, will you be fifteen, will you be twenty, before you start to think, everyone in this community is white. And if you don’t think that — why didn’t you? So, that’s gonna be interesting. I hope it’s one of those pieces of television you see, and always remember.”

And I'm like. Yeah. But the reason this works even as well as it does is largely thanks to the work of the previous showrunner with the previous creative team, which was notably the first era to have any writers of color (amongst other firsts in terms of inclusivity in directors, composer, actors). While Chibnall fumbled whenever he tried to write about race himself, he did have the self-awareness to have Black and South Asian writers writing the episodes where race is the focus (and a female writer for the episode where sexism is a focus; my point is, he seemed to know his shortcomings).

I wonder what the current creative team looks like? (not really, but I wasn't 100% sure for all of them)

To quote RTD:

“...before you start to think, everyone in this community is white.”

This is pretty non-self-aware, right? It's pretty “It is said, and I understand this, there was a history of racism with the original Toymaker, the Celestial Toymaker, who had ‘celestial,’ and I did not know this, but ‘celestial’ can mean of Chinese origin, but in a derogatory way,” right? (from The Giggle Unleashed) It's pretty “and I had problems with that, and a lot of us on the production team had problems with that: associating disability with evil,” right? (from Destination Skaro Unleashed)

—none of which are issues that should be overlooked, but think how much exponentially better they might’ve been addressed if he’d consulted with Chinese writers and wheelchair-using writers before going straight to giving the Toymaker weird fake accents and making Davros walk?

How many Black or non-white people do we think saw the Dot and Bubble script before it landed in Ncuti’s hands?

And this just keeps happening.

And like, from some of the shocked responses I've seen from white viewers to the ending of Dot and Bubble, maybe the episode's unsubtlety was needed? From the way RTD talks about it in Unleashed, the episode was written with a white audience in mind, Baby's First Microaggressions (where of course the microaggressions come from people who are pretty self-admittedly white supremacists). Ricky September, a more seemingly normal depiction of someone in the racist bubble of Finetime, seemed like an interesting element, up until the way he died.

The ending worked for me, because I do think the Doctor's reaction is true to how the Doctor would react. I just keep thinking of how much better the core themes could've been handled by someone with actual lived experience on the subject matter.

[monstrousproductions]

got another one, lads (gender neutral)!

Monstrous Agonies episode 69

[royaltea000]

oooh are we making suggestions now?? (casually drops ninjago in front of you and acts like its an accident)

seriously tho its kinda rough at first but if you give it a chance to cook oooh my god its so good. big cast thats one happy family, so many seasons so its perfect to just have on in the background, and since theyre crappy little legos its awesome for drawing and making ur own designs juuust saying

Dude I’ve seen sooo much good ninjago fanart it looks really fun but the biggest hurdle is that I’m not the biggest fan of the Lego style 😭 like monkey kid was an exception for me cuz it was beautifully animated but maybe I’ll give it another try one day… the characters do seem really cool tho