#it builds a foundation of who link is and who and what he is trying to save!

[bloodreinasbathwater]

My Sunshine

Jack Hughes X F!Reader

a;n i have been so excited to release this chapter. I really think you guys are gonna enjoy the next chapter of my Sunshine, i rote it when i was sad, so now you guys have to be sad too.

Warnings: pregnancy, arguing, toxic ex-boyfriend, suggestive wording lol, anxiety, fighting

masterlist link / previous chapters

Word Count - 3950

Two weeks later

17:35pm

Jack had just returned home from his snowy mountain vacation with Y/N, feeling lighter than he had in years. As he walked through the front door, the familiar warmth of his family's home enveloped him. His mother, Ellen, came bustling in from the kitchen, a radiant smile on her face.

"Jackie, my darling!" she exclaimed, pulling him into a tight hug. "We've missed you so much. How was your trip?"

Jack chuckled, returning the embrace. "It was amazing, Mom. Y/N and I had such a wonderful time."

Ellen pulled back, her eyes shining. "Y/N, huh? Is she the special someone you've been telling us about?"

Jack felt a blush creep up his neck. "Actually, that's what I wanted to talk to you and Dad about. Is he home?"

As if on cue, Jack's father, Jim, stepped into the entryway, a warm smile on his face. "There's my boy!" he said, clasping Jack's shoulder. "Welcome home. How was the trip?"

"It was great, Dad," Jack replied, glancing between his parents. "Listen, I - I've been thinking a lot about the future, and about building a family of my own. Y/N and I, we're getting really close, and I think I'm ready to take that next step."

Ellen's face lit up, and she clasped her hands together excitedly. "Oh, Jackie, that's wonderful news! When do we get to meet this special young lady?"

Jim chuckled, draping an arm around his wife's shoulders. "Slow down, El. Let the boy speak."

Jack smiled, appreciating his father's steady presence. "Well, that's actually what I wanted to talk to you both about. I was hoping you could come over for dinner sometime soon, so you can get to know Y/N better. I - I think I'm going to ask her to be my girlfriend."

Ellen practically squealed with delight, pulling Jack into another hug. "Oh, my darling boy, I'm so happy for you! Of course, we'd love to meet her. And Jim and I have been hoping for grandchildren, you know." She shot a pointed look at Jack's younger brother, Luke, who had just entered the room.

Luke raised his hands in mock surrender. "Hey, don't look at me. I'm still figuring this whole 'settling down' thing out."

Jim chuckled, giving Luke a playful nudge. "You'll get there, son. But your brother here is taking the plunge. We're proud of you, Jack."

…

20:41pm

Later that night, after his family had finally left, Jack found himself staring at his phone for what felt like the fifth time that day. Still no reply from Y/N. He let out a frustrated sigh, his brow furrowing as he tossed the phone onto the dining table with a little more force than necessary.

What was he doing wrong? Jack wracked his brain, trying to pinpoint where things might have taken a turn. Their trip to the snowy mountains had been absolute bliss - they'd spent their days cuddled up by the fireplace, sipping hot cocoa and talking for hours about their hopes and dreams.

Y/N had seemed so happy, so at peace. He thought for sure that when he got home, he'd be ready to take that next big step and ask her to be his girlfriend.

But now, radio silence. Jack couldn't help the doubts that crept in. Had he come on too strong? Pushed her too hard to commit? His family's eagerness to meet Y/N suddenly felt like too much pressure. Jack grabbed his dinner plate and headed to the sink, scrubbing at the ceramic with more vigor than necessary.

No, he knew in his heart that he hadn't done anything wrong. Their relationship had blossomed so naturally, built on a foundation of mutual trust and respect.

He'd made it abundantly clear that he was pursuing her, that he wanted a future together. So what could possibly be the issue?

Letting out a heavy sigh, Jack shuffled over to his bed, sinking down onto the soft mattress. He stared down at his phone, willing Y/N's name to light up the screen.

Maybe she was just busy - caught up in her writing or dealing with some other personal matter. The rational part of his brain knew he shouldn't jump to conclusions, but the anxious part kept whispering doubts.

Jack flopped back against the pillows, his mind drifting back to their trip. The way Y/N's eyes had sparkled in the soft firelight, the gentle brush of her hand against his as they walked through the snow-covered woods. He'd felt so at peace, so certain that she was the one he wanted to build a life with.

Letting his eyes drift shut, Jack tried to push away the nagging fears. With any luck, he'd wake up to her reply in the morning, and they could figure out whatever was going on.

All he wanted was to have what his parents had - that deep, abiding love and the chance to create a family of his own. But for now, he'd have to wait and see what the future held. Holding onto that hope, Jack felt himself drifting off to sleep, his phone still clutched tightly in his hand.

…

3:34am

Y/N felt the tension coiling in her stomach as she faced off against Jason. The air in her small living room felt thick with his toxic energy, his condescending tone grating on her nerves.

"Come on, Y/N, you know I can be a good father," Jason pressed, his voice dripping with false sincerity as he took a predatory step closer. "Just give me one more chance - I'll prove it to you."

Y/N held her ground, her heart pounding in her chest, her hand instinctively drifting to cover the gentle swell of her belly. Twenty-two weeks pregnant now, a secret she'd been guarding fiercely from the world, still terrified of the reactions she would inevitably face.

The thought of Jason worming his way back into her life, especially now, made her feel nauseous, her insides churning with dread.

"No, Jason. We're done," she said firmly, her voice steady despite the tremble threatening to betray her resolve. "This is my life, my choice. I don't need you in it."

But Jason wasn't one to take rejection lightly. His eyes narrowed into slits, his lips twisting into a cruel smirk that sent shivers down Y/N's spine. "You think you can just shut me out, huh? You're nothing without me, Y/N. Nothing but a scared little girl playing house."

Y/N's jaw clenched, her fists tightening at her sides as she fought to keep her composure. "I'm not scared of you anymore, Jason. I won't let you manipulate me because you’re lonely."

Jason's laughter was like nails on a chalkboard, grating and harsh. “you have no idea what you're getting yourself into. You'll come crawling back to me, begging for my forgiveness, just you wait."

He looked around the living room, his gaze settling on the photo of Y/N and Jack, taken during their blissful mountain getaway. Suddenly, realization dawned on his face.

"Who is that?" he demanded, jabbing a finger toward the image. "Who have you been seeing behind my back?"

Y/N felt her heart pounding in her chest as She stared at the photo, at the way Jack's arm was wrapped protectively around her, the adoration in his gaze, and now the image was tainted by the presence of Jason.

She could feel the familiar nausea bubbling up in her stomach, and she instinctively placed a protective hand over her growing belly. Swallowing hard, she turned back to Jason, trying to maintain her composure.

"That's none of your business, Jason," she replied, hating how her voice wavered. "I don't owe you any explanations."

"The hell it's not my business!" Jason exploded, taking another step forward. "You're carrying my child, Y/N. I have a right to know what's going on in your life."

"This baby is not yours, Jason," she spat, the words dripping with venom. "I'm going to raise it on my own, without you."

Jason's eyes narrowed, and he took a step closer to her. "Yeah, right. Like hell you are. I'm going to fight for my rights as the father, Y/N. You can't keep me from my own kid. Now I know you've been seeing someone else, Y/N, and I'm not going to just sit back and let you take my child away from me."

Y/N felt the walls closing in, the weight of the situation bearing down on her. She needed to get Jason out of her home, to protect herself and her unborn child.

She felt the tears welling up in her eyes, the stress and anxiety of the situation becoming too much to bear. "Jason, please, just go," she pleaded, her voice barely above a whisper. "I can't deal with this right now. I need you to leave, and I need you to leave my baby alone."

Jason opened his mouth to argue further, but the sound of Y/N's phone ringing interrupted him. She glanced down at the screen, her heart leaping as she saw Jack's name. Taking a deep breath, she answered the call, hoping that his soothing presence would be enough to calm the storm that was raging within her.

…

Y/N felt a surge of relief wash over her as she heard Jack's voice on the other end of the line. "Jack, I-I'm so glad you called," she said, her voice quivering with emotion.

"Y/N, sweetheart, are you okay?" Jack's tone was laced with concern. "I just had this feeling that something wasn't right, and I had to check in on you."

Y/N glanced back at Jason, who was pacing the living room, his face twisted in a scowl. "I...I'm not okay, Jack," she admitted, her heart sinking. "My ex-boyfriend, Jason, he's here and he's...he's being so awful."

Jack's response was immediate. "Do you need me to come over? I can be there in no time, just say the word."

Y/N's heart ached at the offer, but she knew she couldn't accept. Not with Jason here and her pregnancy still a secret. "No, no, it's okay," she said quickly. "I just...I needed to hear your voice, that's all."

There was a brief pause, and Y/N could almost feel the concern radiating through the phone. "Y/N, sweetheart, what's going on?" Jack's voice was gentle, soothing. "Please, talk to me."

Y/N took a deep, steadying breath, trying to keep her emotions in check. "It's...it's complicated, Jack. Jason...he's been drinking,” Y/N whispered, her voice barely audible. “He's been yelling, saying things I don't want to repeat." She paused, biting her lip as she glanced down at her growing belly. "There's something else, too, but I...I don't know how to tell you."

"Oh, Y/N..." Jack's voice was laced with sympathy. "Whatever it is, you can tell me. I'm here for you, no matter what."

Y/N opened her mouth to speak, but before she could get the words out, she felt a cold grip on her arm. She gasped, turning to see Jason standing in the hallway, his eyes blazing with anger.

"Who the hell are you talking to? " Jason demanded, his grip tightening painfully on her arm. He glanced at the phone screen and saw Jack's name. "Jack? Who's Jack? You think you can just talk to your little boyfriend behind my back?"

Y/N's heart pounded like a drum in her chest as Jason's grip tightened painfully on her arm. Panic surged through her veins, mingling with a fierce anger. She quickly ended the call, her hands trembling slightly.

"Let go of me, Jason!" she hissed, struggling against his unyielding hold. Her muscles were taut, shoulders hunched defensively.

Jason's eyes narrowed to slits, his face mere inches from hers. His breathing had grown ragged, hot puffs of air hitting Y/N's cheek. "Not until you tell me who this Jack is," Jason hissed.

Y/N's nostrils flared as she glared back at him defiantly. "He's none of your business!" she spat, shoving him away with all her strength. Her chest heaved with each rapid breath. Jason stumbled back a step, but his expression only darkened further.

He stepped back towards her, looming over her petite frame. "You think you can just shut me out, huh?" he hissed, his voice low and dangerous. "You're nothing without me, Y/N. Nothing but a scared little girl."

Fury surged through Y/N, her fists clenching at her sides. She grabbed a pillow from the couch and hurled it at him, the fabric billowing through the air. "Get out! Get out of my life!" she screamed, her voice cracking with barely contained emotion.

Jason dodged the projectile, his eyes flashing with unbridled rage. "You think you can get rid of me that easily?" he growled, lunging towards her. Y/N quickly snatched up another pillow, clutching it defensively as her breaths came in ragged gasps.

In a sudden, calculated move, Jason pushed past Y/N and ran into her bedroom, slamming the door shut behind him. Y/N stumbled back, heart racing, and immediately started pounding on the door, her fists thudding against the wood. "Open the door, Jason! You can't just barricade yourself in there!" she cried, desperation lacing her voice.

The sound of thunder reverberated through her apartment, mirroring the tumult within her own heart. Jason ignored her, the distinct click of a lock echoing from the other side. "I'm not going anywhere until you tell me about jack," he shouted back, voice muffled.

Tears of frustration and fear began to flow freely down Y/N's face as she continued her relentless assault on the door, her fists growing sore from the repeated impacts. "Jason! Open the door and leave! Please just leave," she croaked, the words catching in her throat.

But her pleas fell on deaf ears. Defeated, Y/N slumped to the floor, curling in on herself as the tears streamed down her face. She felt trapped, helpless, and utterly exhausted. Minutes ticked by like hours, the sound of the storm outside mirroring the turmoil inside her.

…

About ten minutes later, a loud knock echoed through the apartment, shattering the oppressive silence. Y/N jolted up from the floor, heart leaping with a glimmer of hope. She rushed to the door and flung it open.

There stood Jack, drenched from head to toe, rain dripping from his hair and clothes. His eyes were wide with worry as he took in the scene before him - Y/N's tear-stained face, the closed bedroom door.

Without a word, he stepped forward and gently gripped her arms, his gaze roving over her features with palpable concern. "Y/N, are you alright? What happened?" he asked, his voice low and soothing, betraying the evident fear in his eyes.

Y/N could only nod mutely, her throat too tight to speak. As Jack's hands moved to tenderly examine her arms, checking for any signs of harm, she found herself at a loss for how to react.

This was the same Jack who had always been there for her, who had cared for her so deeply - and now here he was, standing in the rain, soaked to the bone but unflinching in his concern.

"I heard the yelling, and then you hung up so suddenly," Jack murmured, his gaze searching hers. "I was so worried, Y/N. Please, tell me what's going on. Who's Jason? Did he hurt you?" The questions tumbled out, laced with a palpable fear for her wellbeing.

Y/N swallowed hard, her heart aching at the raw emotion in his voice. "I... I don't know what to say," she whispered, her hands trembling slightly. "Jason, he..." She glanced back at the closed bedroom door, her eyes narrowing in determination. "He's in there.”

Jack's expression hardened, his grip on her arms tightening ever so slightly.

The air crackled with tension as the bedroom door suddenly flew open, revealing a disheveled Jason. His gaze immediately landed on Jack, who had protectively placed himself in front of Y/N. For a moment, Jason simply stood there, eyes narrowed as he took in the scene before him.

The sound of the pounding rain outside filled the oppressive silence, a stark contrast to the volatile energy that radiated off the three of them. Slowly, Jason's expression morphed into one of pure, unbridled rage. His fists clenched at his sides as he stepped out of the bedroom, his gaze burning into Jack.

"Who the hell do you think you are?" he snarled, his voice dripping with venom.

Jack didn't back down, squaring his shoulders as he glared back at Jason. "I'm the one who's going to make sure you leave Y/N alone," he growled, his grip tightening protectively around Y/N's arm as he moved to shield her completely.

Jason's eyes flashed dangerously, and he took a menacing step forward. "You think you can just waltz in here and play the hero?" he hissed. "This is between me and Y/N. Stay out of it."

Sensing the impending confrontation, Y/N tried to interject, her voice trembling. "Jason, please, just go. This doesn't have to-"

But Jason cut her off with a harsh laugh. "Shut up, Y/N. You think you can just replace me with this pathetic excuse for a man?" He turned his attention back to Jack, his lips curling into a sneer. "You have no idea what you're up against."

Jack's jaw clenched, and for a moment, Y/N thought he might lunge at Jason. Instead, he stood his ground, his voice low and dangerous. "I know exactly what I'm up against. And I'm not going anywhere until you leave. This is your last warning."

Jason's eyes narrowed, and he took another step forward, his posture challenging. "Or what? You think you can take me on?"

Jack didn't flinch, his gaze unwavering as he stood his ground. "I don't want to fight you, Jason," he said, his voice low and measured.

Jason let out a harsh laugh, his lips curling into a sneer. "You really think you can protect her? I have every reason to be here.” He took another step closer, his movements predatory.

Without warning, Jason lunged forward, grabbing a vase from a nearby table and hurling it at Jack. Jack ducked just in time, the vase shattering against the wall behind him. Jack reacted quickly, ducking and countering with a well-placed jab to Jason's midsection. The force of the impact caused Jason to stumble back, momentarily winded.

Y/N watched in horror as the two men traded blows, their grunts and the sound of flesh meeting flesh echoing through the apartment. She wanted to intervene, to call for help, but her body was paralyzed with fear.

In a sudden burst of adrenaline, Jack planted his feet, bracing himself, and then surged upwards, slamming his shoulder into Jason's midsection. The momentum caught Jason off guard, and he was thrown backward, crashing into the nearby wall.

Jason recovered quickly, his eyes blazing with fury. He surged forward, tackling Jack to the ground and raining down punches. Seizing the opportunity, Jack lunged forward, grabbing Jason by the collar and slamming him against the wall, his forearm pressing against Jason's throat. "This ends now," he growled, his voice low and dangerous.

Jason's eyes were wild, his chest heaving. "We have a family Jack, we’re supposed to be together. She’s trapped me with for life whether she wants to accept that or not," he hissed, his hands clawing at Jack's arm. "Y/N is mine. She'll always be mine."

"Stop this!" Y/N cried, but her pleas fell on deaf ears.

Jack's grip tightened, his face mere inches from Jason's. "She's not yours, and she never will be again," he spat. "Y/N is stronger than you, and she deserves so much better."

Mustering what little strength he had left, Jason suddenly lashed out, his fist connecting with the side of Jack's head. The impact caused Jack to stumble back, momentarily dazed.

Seizing the opportunity, Jason surged forward, shoving past Jack and heading straight for the open front door as he adjusted his clothing.

…

4:27am

Jack winced as Y/N began carefully dabbing at the cut on his cheekbone, her touch feather-light. "I'm so sorry, Jack," she murmured, her eyes full of concern. "I never meant for you to get caught up in this."

Jack reached up, his fingers gently brushing against her arm. "Hey, it's okay," he said softly. "I'm just glad you're safe." His gaze never left her face, captivated by the way the soft light played across her delicate features.

Y/N bit her lip, focusing intently on the task at hand. As she cleaned the wound, her fingers inadvertently traced the line of his jaw, marveling at the warmth of his skin. Jack's breath hitched at the intimate touch, and he found himself leaning ever so slightly into her hand.

The air between them crackled with unspoken emotion, a charged energy that seemed to hum in the small space. Y/N's heart raced, her eyes darting up to meet Jack's, and for a moment, time seemed to stand still.

Slowly, almost instinctively, Jack reached up and gently cupped Y/N's face, his thumb caressing her cheek. "You don't have to apologize," he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper. "I'd do anything to keep you safe."

Y/N's breath caught in her throat, her hands coming to rest on his chest. She could feel the steady thrum of his heartbeat, a comforting rhythm that seemed to steady her own. "Jack," she breathed, her eyes shining with a newfound vulnerability.

Cautiously, Jack leaned in, his forehead resting against hers. Their noses brushed, and Y/N could feel the warmth of his breath on her lips, sending a shiver down her spine. In that moment, the world outside seemed to fade away, leaving them suspended in a private bubble of tenderness and unspoken affection.

Y/N's fingers curled into the fabric of his shirt, and she closed her eyes, savoring the intimacy of their embrace. She felt safe, cherished – a feeling she hadn't experienced in far too long. And as Jack's arms wrapped around her.

She nestled closer, her head coming to rest against his chest, and let out a soft, contented sigh.

Jack tightened his hold ever so slightly, his chin coming to rest atop her hair. He could feel the tension slowly ebbing from her body, the initial fear and panic giving way to a fragile vulnerability. Gently, he began to trace soothing circles on her back, his touch feather-light.

"I've got you," he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper. "You're safe now, Y/N."

Slowly, she pulled back just enough to gaze up at him, her eyes shining with a tentative trust. "Thank you, Jack," she whispered, her fingers tracing the line of his jaw. "For being here, for... for everything."

Jack's heart swelled at her words, a tender smile playing on his lips. He reached up to tuck a stray lock of hair behind her ear, his fingertips grazing her cheek. "Always, Y/N," he murmured. "I'll always be here for you."

Y/N felt a warmth blossom in her chest, and without thinking, she rose up on her tiptoes, pressing a featherlight kiss to the corner of his mouth.

Jack's breath caught in his throat, his eyes widening in surprise. For a moment, he was frozen, captivated by the warmth of her touch, the intimacy of the gesture. Then, almost instinctively, he cupped her face, his thumb tracing the delicate curve of her cheekbone.

Slowly, reverently, he leaned in, his lips brushing against hers in a tender, unhurried kiss. It was a silent promise, a testament to the depth of his feelings - a promise to always be her anchor, her safe haven, in the storm.

When they finally parted, both were breathless.

"Come to bed with me Jack..."

…

Tag List <3

@fearfam69691, @alwaysclassyeagle, @rebelatbay, @dancerbailey3, @skepvids, @urbanflorals, @hischierswhore, @literatureluster, @voidohanax, @ivy-34, @bunbunbl0gs, @snailss, @ru-kru, @shawnshoney

[inbarfink]

One of the major themes of ‘Ace Attorney’ has always been trust, obviously. Like, this is the most important creed that Mia Fey passed down to Phoenix and from there to anyone he has touched.

As well as just generally being one of Phoenix’s most important positive qualities.

The entire arc of the first game hinges on the idea of the Power of Trust, with it being a core pillar of Phoenix's relationships with both Miles and Maya.

And even the main gameplay themes of ‘turnabout’ and ‘turning your thinking around’ are linked to this theme of Trust. The whole idea around the narrative of a ‘turnabout’ is that the Defendant seems obviously totally guilty, but the defense attorney proves them innocent by Trusting in their innocence. 

And ‘turning your thinking around’ is generally framed as - rather than the general mystery-solver mindset of trying to deduce what has happened from the evidence given - trusting in your client’s innocence and looking for evidence that should be there if they are innocent/that other person is the culprit. Using the Trust in the client as the foundation to build your logic from.

And being such a core theme of the franchise, the games started reiterating on and deconstructing it almost immediately. “Farewell, My Turnabout'' having a Guilty Client feels like the most obvious example, maybe. But actually the game starts casting suspicions on Engarde pretty early on, and most of the emotional turmoil related to him is more of the, like “will Phoenix sacrifice the truth for Maya’s sake” hostage situation stuff. 

I think the more important stuff in that case is more about the Phoenix-Edgeworth drama. How Phoenix’ sense of trust, which seems like such an unwavering and unbreakable virtue in the first game, does actually have limits. Phoenix feels that Miles has betrayed his trust by, y’know, running off to Europe and making him think he was dead - and it takes him time to learn how to regain this sense of trust in him.

Meanwhile, Matt Engarde, he considers himself strong because he trusts in no one. In contrast to Adrian, who both he and she herself see as ‘weak’ because of her tendency to blindly trust the person she is dependent on. But at the end, it’s Matt’s distrust in everyone around him that brings on his own downfall. 

And the game after that adds in Dahlia Hawthorne who is, as Mia Fey’s nemesis, a sort of representation of the dangers of trust. A character who uses and manipulates those who put their trust in her.

“Apollo Justice: Ace Attorney” establishes its more cynical and deconstructivist tone compared to the original trilogy in part by always putting some sort of element of distrust between the Lawyer and the Defendant. With Apollo basically unable to really have a decent conversation with any of his clients, many of them being antagonistic towards him or hiding things from him. Phoenix Wright was basically the only defendant Apollo went into court actually 100% putting his trust in him… and we all know how that worked out.

And this moment is especially effective because… if you’re playing this game unspoiled after finishing the Phoenix Wright Trilogy, you probably trust Phoenix as well! The emotions Apollo feels as he sees who Phoenix had become are meant to mirror the emotions the Player probably feels at this very moment. And the hints and questions about what Phoenix did in the trial seven years ago are a challenge to the trust of both Apollo and the Player. Both of them are stuck between what they knew of Phoenix before and the revelation of what Phoenix confessed to in “Turnabout Trump”. Apollo’s uncertainty is the player’s uncertainty as well. 

And even if Apollo’s image of Phoenix is somewhat improved by “Turnabout Successions” and it’s clearly established that, no, Phoenix never knowingly used forged evidence as an attorney… There’s no big reconciliation that fixes everything like with Phoenix and Miles. It’s clear that Apollo’s sense of trust, in Phoenix Wright and in general, never quite recovered from the events of AJAA. Later games do still reiterate that he’s a lot more distrustful than other playable attorneys.

(And that’s also a point where the Player-Player Character Synergy from ‘Turnabout Trump’ kinda diverges, since I think most Players do regain their trust in Phoenix by the end of AA4 at least. Especially as unlike Apollo, we actually got to be inside his head again - that’s not exactly an experience Apollo will ever get to have. )

But, well, maybe it’s because it’s just really fresh in my mind, but I just think what ‘The Great Ace Attorney’ Duology does with this theme is just… really cool!

These games really play on the idea of challenging the trust… not just of the Player Character Ryunosuke, but also of the Player themselves. Because Ryunosuke also gets to have a Guilty Client… as his very-first actual client who is not himself. And since the game doesn’t lay on the suspicion quite as thick as with Matt Engarde, and since there’s no hostage situation of course… This plotline can have emotional synergy between the Player and the Player Character and focus a lot more about the emotional repercussion of putting your trust in someone totally absolutely unworthy of trust. 

And how this betrayal of trust haunts the characters moving forwards. How Ryunosuke now finds himself being held back by his doubts due to the memories of this terrible trial, and... not necessarily a lack of trust in others as much as a lack of trust in himself. How Susato is driven to do something she considers unforgivable - tempering with the Crime Scene behind the police’s back - because that trial had made her lose trust in the entire British Justice System.

The entire climax of the first game is thus a reaffirmation of the power of trust. By unwaveringly defending Gina - a girl they have bonded with, but has also been extremely uncooperative, shady, dishonest and literally involved in what went down in the McGilded Trial, in a very grueling and seemingly unbeatable trial  - Ryunosuke and Susato rediscover their ability to trust their defendant. Because, yeah, trust is a leap of faith - you never know when you’re gonna meet a McGilded or a Dahlia Hawthorne - but it’s also absolutely worth it.

And then with the themes of conspiracy strawn throughout the games and especially ramping up in the second game, that’s really kinda a thing that’s bound to sow seeds of paranoia and distrust in the Players about… all sorts of characters. Like, okay, I am fairly sure that pretty much every player who first walked into the Lord Chief Justice’s office and saw Mael Stronghart was like “Oh look! That’s the Final Boss!”. But with the hints for there being some sort of web of intrigue being hidden in the shadows, there’s plenty of other characters that skirt the line between feeling suspicious and trustworthy. The reveal that Seishiro Jigoku is actually a culprit was one of the best-done reveals in the whole franchise. And on the other hand, there are many reasons to be suspicious of Yujin due to the amount of secrets he clearly keeps, and yet he turns out to be a very straightforwardly heroic character. 

And then there’s Kazuma. And Mael Stronghart might be the Obvious Final Boss to the Conspiracy and Murder Mystery parts of the game, but within this thematic throughline of the challenges of trust, Kazuma is pretty much that part’s Final Boss. 

Initially designed to be someone both the characters and the players intently trust, both in terms of the meta-perspective of how he’s set up to be a kinda Mia-Miles hybrid and any Player with knowledge of the previous games will know that’s a kind of person you can rely on. And in general, even to newcomers, everything he says and does in the first two chapters of the game make him feel like just a very upstanding guy you can trust.

Then, when he comes back in the second games, he comes back with a new attitude that feels colder towards Ryunosuke (and thus the Player) and that’s also coupled with a whole bunch of mysteries about him that were hinted in the previous game, but are now coming to the forefront. 

And as the Trial of Barok Van Zieks progresses, it becomes increasingly clear that Karuma has, theoretically, all the possible motivation to kill Greyson and frame Barok for it, that he was one of the last people to see Gregson before his death and that he literally brandished a sword at him. And despite how cagey and shady he acts, he still insists he never killed anyone.

And the reveal that he has knowingly participated in an assassination plot behind the backs of both Ryunosuke and Susato is bound to cause a feeling of shock, confusion and betrayal not just in these characters - but also in the Player. The Player and Player Characters are in a lot of emotional synergy through this entire Kazuma storyline. These feelings of conflict between wanting to trust Kazuma after seeing him in his best and all the mounting suspicions due to all the revelations about him are really felt by all three of us.

And in the end the challenge for Ryunosuke and Susato is not to abandon Kazuma completely, and it’s not to continue blindly trusting their old idealized view of Kazuma - it’s to face the fact that he has kinda lost his way for single-minded revenge, while also still trusting that he is deep-down the same good not-murdery man they have known him as before.

[elyssialumengard]

Alastor x Reader : Fragile Link ( Part 1 )

______________________________________________

Hello/good night ! This is my first post in the Hazbin Hotel universe, please bear with me. I'm French so if I make a mistake, tell me in a socially acceptable way. ^^

Summary : Alastor and Charlie travel to a mysterious location in Hell to get help against threats to the Hazbin Hotel. They are guided by Alastor and meet Taku, a demon who owes him one. Despite encounters with hostile sinners, they manage to approach “y/n”, an important figure whose help is crucial.

______________________________________________

The cobblestone streets of Hell were lit by a perpetual reddish glow.

Wisps of acrid smoke rose from the cracks in the ground in this corner of the Infernal Pentagram, further obscuring the tumultuous sky, bathed in a vivid red hue, creating a painting of macabre beauty. Among the ruined buildings, their decrepit walls decorated with graffiti, stretched a heavy silence, broken only by the distant echoes of sinners.

In the distance, mountains of debris and carcasses could be seen, where some damned souls were condemned to an eternity of futile toil. Others went about their business, their gazes full of lust, malice and despair.

In this inhospitable setting, two figures made their way, one following the other, their footsteps echoing. They were on their way to a mysterious place, a place where one of them hoped to find help in confronting the threats facing the Hazbin Hotel.

One of the two people was none other than Charlie, who was getting carried away by his own inner torment. The revelation of Vaggie's dissimulation, her love, as to her nature as an exterminating angel, had plunged her into an abyss of betrayal and perplexity. She wondered about the reasons that had pushed Vaggie to silence such a crucial truth, finding it paradoxical that the one she had elected to share her noblest ideals could indulge in such omissions. Tortuous thoughts, like poisonous snakes, coiled around his tormented mind, undermining the very foundations of his certainties.

Amidst this turmoil, a glimmer of panic arose from time to time, fueled by the imminent threat posed by Adam and his legions of exterminating angels.

As for the one who orchestrated this macabre dance, it was Alastor, the guide leading the princess to a place known only to him. Indifferent to Charlie's words, he focused exclusively on their destination, and on the powerful overlord he had not seen in seven long years. He knew that their reunion was going to be complex, marked by the shadows of the past, but he hoped to convince the suzerain to lend Charlie a hand in his fight against the angelic forces.

While he had initially planned to visit his friend Rosie in Cannibal Town, he had deliberately postponed this meeting, preferring to try his luck with the other liege. Because he knew that if their enterprise succeeded, it would constitute a more effective bulwark against Adam and his army.

And he secretly wanted to see her again for his personal pleasure.

As they moved deeper and deeper into one of the abandoned and forgotten corners of the Pentagram, where no sinner dared to dwell, Alastor abruptly interrupted the conversation, announcing that they had arrived. However, in front of them, there was only an oppressive void, devoid of the slightest sign of life or habitation.

- What does that mean ? Charlie wondered, a look of confusion and worry in his eyes.

An enigmatic smile appeared on Alastor's lips, a sparkle of excitement shining in his eyes.

- Patience, my dear Charlie. You will soon understand why we are here. He replied in a calm voice.

With one fluid gesture, he conjured a letter into his hand, which he then burned before letting the ashes fall to the ground. Charlie's eyes followed with fascination the strange spectacle unfolding before his eyes. The ashes of the letter, consumed by Alastor's fire, transformed into dancing shadows, swirling before taking the form of a massive door on the ground. A strange feeling of dizziness came over her as she stared at this mysterious door, the palpable magic emanating from it tickling her senses.

Feeling the pressure of Alastor's shoulder, she stepped back slightly, her eyes still fixed on the fascinating scene unfolding before them. The shadow gate suddenly burst out of the ground, solidifying into a towering structure. Charlie's heart raced in her chest as she realized where they were.

This door evoked the legends she had heard whispered, the one leading to an unknown territory, a place different from the Hell she knew, under the sovereignty of one of the most eminent figures of the underworld. She was stunned to find herself facing this legendary door, wondering what trials and revelations awaited them on the other side.

Before she could voice her thoughts, the door burst open, revealing a demon that emerged from the darkness.

The demon was imposing and slender, with slightly gray skin. Her hair is a deep brown, framing her angular face characterized by sharp, defined features. His dark, almost black eyes shine with a piercing light behind round, black-rimmed glasses. He wore a dark suit highlighting his elegant and professional figure.

Seeing who had summoned the opening, the demon frowned and said in a hostile voice :

-Alastor.

-Taku.

Despite Taku's cold reception, Alastor remained imperturbable, not letting the animosity of his interlocutor destabilize him.

- Tell me, my friend, how have you been since our last meeting ? He questioned, a hint of feigned camaraderie peeking through his words.

Facing him, Taku remained imperturbable, his arms crossed on his chest, his face unchanging despite the mischievous sparkle that sparkled in Alastor's eyes.

- It is none of your business. He replied in an icy voice. I thought you were dead. It would surely be better for everyone if that were the case. Or at least you could have stayed hidden in your hole, alone, if death doesn't suit you.

A cynical laugh escaped Alastor's lips, accentuating the tense atmosphere between them.

-Ah ! But that wasn't the case ! He replied in a mocking tone. My absence was just a little break, a parenthesis to savor life and let sinners worry, wondering when I was going to return with my emission.

He approached Taku, his teasing smile widening.

- But indeed, it would surely have been better for you if I had died. He continued in an almost whispered voice, leaving the shadow of a sinister secret lingering. I have no doubt that you would have greatly appreciated it. After all, that would have meant that I would have taken your sword of Damocles with me to the grave, right ?

A shiver of antagonism ran through the space between them as they eyed each other, their feelings of distrust and disdain barely concealed.

Under the influence of the anger which began to rise, Taku's teeth lengthened, accentuating his expression of displeasure. His fists clenched with increasing force as he stared at Alastor with a penetrating, almost murderous gaze.

-What do you want, Alastor ? He spat through clenched teeth.

- We came to see ( y/n ). He said with an indescribable look. This is a matter of the utmost importance.

Taku sighed in annoyance, shaking his head in disapproval.

- I don't want to hear anything about it. He replied dryly. My Lady has no time to waste on unimportant requests like yours. And especially not with someone like you.

Charlie, feeling anxiety rising within her, was about to intervene, to plead their case to Taku. However, Alastor beat her to it with a calm wave of his hand, telling her to stay back for the moment. With a sly smile he said :

- I think you owe me a favor, Taku. And that's why I was able to summon this door.. He announced quietly.

Taku glared at Alastor, his expression hardening even further.

- A favor ? He repeated suspiciously, his tone oscillating between distrust and curiosity.

- Yes. Alastor replied in a detached tone, but with a glint of determination in his eyes. And that's why we're here, thanks to the letter you gave me in exchange for our deal. To get back what you owe me. He announced, a green glow surrounding them.

Charlie watched the scene helplessly, overwhelmed by the events, but slowly realizing the magnitude of the situation. She could feel the tension between Alastor and Taku rising, their gazes challenging each other in a silent game of wills.

- You're playing a dangerous game, Alastor. You might get burned. He growled.

But Alastor didn't flinch, his teasing smile remaining unchanged.

- Oh, let me doubt it, we both know that you are weaker than me. We need to see ( y/n ). He repeated calmly. And I'm sure you can understand the importance of this meeting. Besides, I will hold my tongue regarding the content of our deal and I will no longer be able to force you to let us in, seeing as I burned the letter to do so. Does this suit you ?

Taku hesitated for a moment, seeming to weigh his options. Finally, with a sigh of resignation, he agreed with a slight nod.

- Alright. He whispered. But I don't owe you anything anymore. And know, miss, he said, addressing Charlie, finally considering her since the beginning of the exchange, you are nothing to us. Your rank is nothing where we are going. We are devoted to our Lady and compared to her, you are futile. And all the more so for a crazy person like you, Alastor. He finished, his teeth returning to normal.

Charlie doesn't respond, stunned. With a wave of his hand, Taku opened the door, revealing the darkness that lay on the other side. Alastor gave a mocking smile, ignoring Taku's jab.

- We expected no less from such hospitality in these infernal lands. He replied lightly, before leading Charlie after him towards the open door.

Once on the other side, the transition was instantaneous, almost magical. The oppressive red-tinged sky of Pentagram City dissipated, giving way to a clear blue celestial expanse, enveloping the landscape in a soft, soothing light. A breath of fresh air came to caress their faces, sweeping away the heaviness of Hell.

Charlie contemplated this astonishing change with a mixture of astonishment and perplexity. She felt transported to another world, a realm where torment and suffering seemed to evaporate. A light laugh escaped Alastor's lips, savoring the stark contrast between the two realities.

- Welcome to this less gloomy corner of Hell, my dear. He whispered to Charlie, his eyes shining with a mischievous glint.

Following Taku who walked in the lead, Alastor and Charlie embarked on the winding paths of this enchanting landscape. Charlie couldn't suppress his amazement at the peaceful beauty around him. Green meadows stretched as far as the eye could see, caressed by the soft light of the sun. In the distance, majestic trees swayed gently in the breeze, their foliage dancing in harmony with the birdsong.

Her heart leaped with excitement as she observed the inhabitants of this strange place, for a moment she could almost forget Vaggie's betrayal. Fishermen smiled happily as they brought in their day's catch. No violence, no murder, no blood. It was a stark contrast to the Hell she had always known. Maybe not as sumptuous as Heaven, but to her, it was a glimmer of light in the darkness.

Approaching Alastor, Charlie felt the urgent need to clarify the mysteries that hovered around their presence here, in this strange and enchanting world.

- Alastor, she began in a voice filled with a mixture of fascination and perplexity, how come that you know ( y/n ) ? And what is this place that seems so... Different ?

Alastor gave her a teasing smile, his eyes sparkling with a mischievous glint.

- Ah, my dear Charlie. He replied in a nonchalant tone. It's a long story, full of twists and turns and mysteries.

He winked at her, knowing he had piqued her curiosity. But before Charlie could ask any more questions, he added :

- As for this place, it's a kind of... Refuge, if you like. A place where time seems to stand still, where the torments of Hell ease a little. But don't let appearances fool you, my dear. Even here, there are secrets and dangers that await us.

Charlie looked at him with admiration mixed with concern. She knew that even in this relative haven of peace, trouble could arise at any moment.

-And why are we here ? She insisted, determined to get a clear answer this time.

Alastor gave him a knowing look, his smile widening slightly.

- Oh, my dear, are we not here to save our dear hotel from the clutches of adversity ? He replied in a cheerful tone, skillfully avoiding directly answering her question.

Charlie rolled her eyes, knowing she probably wouldn't get a more specific answer from Alastor. But despite her exasperation, she couldn't help but feel a spark of excitement at the idea of the adventure that awaited them. As they advanced peacefully, five other armed sinners appeared from the shadows, threatening and ready to do battle.

The leader of this group raised his weapon, pointing contemptuously at Alastor.

- What are you doing here you bastard ? He roared in a deep and menacing voice.

Charlie felt panic rising within her, her gaze turning to Alastor for a solution.

- Alastor, what do we do ?

Alastor smirked, his eyes sparkling with anticipation.

- Well, this looks like it's getting interesting. He replied with a teasing tone, ready to spring into action.

As the sinners stood before them, their weapons brandished in a threatening gesture, Alastor couldn't help but let out a teasing laugh, his gaze shining with a mischievous glint as he approached one of them. 'them.

- My dear friends, is this how you welcome your guests ? He said in a mocking voice, openly defying their hostility.

The sinners stiffened, their expressions mixing bewilderment and anger at the demon's insolent attitude.

- You have guts to come here, Alastor. One of them spat contemptuously, his tone laced with menace. Do you really think you can come in here at will and wreak havoc ?

A smirk tugged at Alastor's lips, a spark of defiance in his gaze.

- Ah, but that’s precisely what I do best, isn’t it ? He replied with a mischievous wink. Bring a little spice to everyday life, shake things up. Besides, if I wanted to hurt anyone here, it would already be done.

His smile widened as red clock faces replaced his pupils, his face twisting into a demonic expression, his smile no longer able to contain his sharp teeth. Deafening, unpleasant sounds of radio whining surrounded the atmosphere, frightening or disconcerting those around them.

After this moment of theatrical intimidation, Alastor suddenly calmed down, letting out a musical laugh that echoed through the air, as if he had just told a particularly funny joke. His facial expression, once distorted by threat, returned to its usual appearance, although his mischievous look remained.

The sinners, meanwhile, stood stunned, looking at Alastor with a mixture of fear and perplexity. They were used to arrogant and hostile demons, but Alastor's combination of imperturbable confidence and playful mischief completely unsettled them.

- I see that you are having trouble following the dance. Alastor stated in a light tone, as if he was talking to confused children. But don't worry, I'm just passing through. No need to bother you further.

Before they can act, Taku abruptly intervenes, his piercing gaze fixed on the sinners.

- Stop your bickering. Stay calm until I give an order. He ordered in a firm voice, keeping them at a distance from any attempted aggression.

The sinners, disoriented, looked at each other, unable to understand why the right arm of their liege stood thus alongside these intruders, and even closer to Alastor, in particular.

- But Taku, they are foreigners. They are not welcome here ! One of them protested, his weapon still aimed at Alastor. Especially a perfidious being like him, whose sole purpose is to sow pain and destruction! It will only revive the suffering in the heart of our Lady !

The disdain in Taku's gaze was palpable, his icy silence echoing in the halo of tension that enveloped the group.

- I know what I'm doing. Don't intervene. He replied in an authoritative tone, putting an abrupt end to any discussion.

Charlie, silent observer of this scene, felt a mixture of relief and incomprehension at Taku's enigmatic attitude. Her grateful gaze rested on him, knowing that he had played a crucial role in calming the situation. Yet, despite this gratitude, she could not help but wonder about the hidden motivations of the mysterious demon, wondering what this pact constituted.

Alastor, although disappointed by the interruption to what could have been an exciting fight, narrowed his eyes warily, bracing himself for any unforeseen events.

- Where is Lady ( y/n ) ? He asked in a calm but firm voice.

The fishermen exchanged uncertain looks before one of them responded in a hesitant voice :

- She is on the top floor, in her tea room, Mr. Taku. She said no one should come and bother her, except you, of course. She is waiting for you.

Nodding, he resumed walking with a determined step, his gaze fixed straight ahead.

- We should continue so that you can leave as soon as possible. He stated in a calm but commanding voice, prompting Alastor and Charlie to follow him.

The five sinners followed closely behind them, their weapons always ready, keeping a watchful eye on the two strangers. Despite their threatening attitude, Alastor, for his part, still wore his eternal smile, taunting the sinners with undisguised amusement.

Meanwhile, Charlie watched the sinners curiously, noticing how happy they seemed in this environment. However, her thoughts were interrupted when she overheard a conversation between two sinners that made her frown.

- You should smile, you know. One of the sinners whispered to the other, his tone laced with a strange mix of gentleness and menace. We don't want to add to Lady's ( y/n ) suffering.

This remark sent chills down Charlie's spine, and he felt a ball of anxiety forming in his stomach.

Taku moved forward without worrying about the tension that reigned around them.

- We should hurry. He declared in a calm but determined voice, prompting the group to pick up their pace.

After walking through the beautiful garden that led them to a secluded building, Taku opened the door and Charlie and Alastor entered with him, leaving the five sinners outside. They advanced through the corridors, following Taku who seemed to know the way by heart.

They finally found themselves in front of an imposing wooden door, whose solid stature seemed to announce the grandeur of the being who resided behind. Taku, with a measured gesture, knocked gently on the wood, thus announcing his presence.

For Charlie, this moment was filled with palpable tension. Her mind repeated the words of her prepared speech, while she mentally prepared herself to face the conundrum that awaited them on the other side. She tried to draw on her determination, ready to defend her beliefs in the face of this mysterious figure.

For his part, Alastor quickly adjusted his outfit and stood up straight, confident, his teasing gaze barely hiding the growing anticipation building within him. He nevertheless approached Charlie, to whisper in his ear with a mixture of seriousness and mischief :

- Be careful of your attitude and your words once inside, my dear. The person we are going to meet is not easily impressed and does not take himself for just anyone.

Charlie nodded silently, appreciating Alastor's caution and advice. Although she felt nervous, she found some comfort in his presence, knowing that he was there to support her in this crucial meeting.

Crossing her fingers that she succeeds.

____________________________________________

Author's note : Here's the first part ! I had to split it in two because otherwise it would have been too long for you, exceeding 7,000 words. Tell me what you think in the comments, see you next time.

[schumachersricciardo]

Shiver

Chapter Four - Fathers Be Good to Your Daughters

♡ Mick Schumacher x Reader, Best friend!Danny Ricc x reader

♡ TW: PLEASE READ BEFORE PROCEEDING!

This chapter contains descriptions of physical, emotional, AND mental abuse by a parent to their child. It contains descriptions of the aftermath of the physical abuse. It also contains scenarios where reader is verbally abused by a parent. If this is triggering for you, there will be a TLDR at the very end of the chapter. Please scroll down to the end of this page if you want to know what this chapter is about, but not read it in its entirety.

♡ TW: Swearing, inaccurate timeline of F1/F2/F3, badly translated German using Google, not proofread, anxiety and panic, crying, alcohol consumption, a mention of throwing up (but not graphically or anything), allusions to a smutty situation, mentions of female anatomy, making out (??), angst, hurt/comfort, physical/mental/emotional/verbal abuse - read above.

♡ She/Her pronouns are used, nothing descriptive about reader except that her hair is long enough to pull back into a ponytail or braid, no reader insert, timeline skips. ALSO: WARNING!!!! I will barely be mentioning Michael Schumacher. I do not presume to know what he is thinking, or would say in these fictional scenarios. I am trying to be respectful of their privacy and not make any assumptions!!!!!! He will be mentioned here and there, but I do not believe any dialogue will be associated with him. If you do not like that, then do not read it. :) 

♡ About 12.3k words, lmao. Oops

♡ A/N: For one, this chapter was so emotional and personal for me to write. I'm very happy with the way that it turned out, as it took me about two days to complete it! It's quite a long chapter, so please take breaks if you need to. Thanks again for being so nice to me, and I hope you enjoy it.

Also, this chapter is not in chronological order of events. I based the sections on what lyrics are put and what I thought would go well with them.

I AM NOT RESPONSIBLE FOR WHAT YOU DECIDE TO READ OR NOT READ!

If you or anyone you know is a victim of abuse, please do not hesitate to call the provided numbers after clicking any of the links at the bottom of this page.

♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡

based on the song lover of the light by mumford and sons 

“Stretch out my life and pick the seams out

Take what you like, but close my ears and eyes

Watch me stumble over and over” 

Mick knew from a very early age that having solid friendships was something very important to have in order to build a strong foundation in life. He saw that modeled so dearly by his father, and all the friendships he had made over the years. His older sister had great friends who treated Mick with nothing but respect… And some pranks. And his mother (besides the envied relationship she had with his father, her husband) always stressed that having good, pure of heart friendships would take you further in life than anything else. 

And for the first time in his life, Mick felt that warmth and joy with you just weeks after you had moved to Germany. Your friendship bloomed quickly and tightly, as you two seemingly became inseparable. It was a rare sight seeing one of you, without the other at school. Everyone could notice the shift in momentum when you were absent and Mick was left confused as to what to get to lunch that day. And vice versa, when he’d be gone - you’d be often found wandering around the school’s library not actually picking out a book, at every recess you had. 

But Mick as bad at math as he was, was more acutely aware of any signs of emotional or mental change in you than one would believe. He could see it in your expressions and body language if you were going through something at home. Your nose would scrunch more and you’d have more difficulty doing simply math problems than usual. You made it a point to never chew on your pencils or straws, but if you were particularly stressed… You could easily bite through the stick of lead or plastic. Mick knew this and he recognized it more as your friendship grew. Most of the time, you’d reassure him with the exact smile he fell in love with and most of the time he’d take your word for it. 

Except the day he didn’t and refused to let up when he could tell it was more than just stress. 

“It’s fine, Mickey, just drop it.” 

“I will not drop this, Smidge!” Mick was now chasing his best friend down as she stormed out of his room. 

“Leave it alone, ugh!” You spat back, as you opened the back door and tried to create some space between you and the blond boy. You took your hair out its ponytail holder in frustration, trying to make that antsy feeling going away by running furious hands through your hair. 

“Smidge, I swear, if you do not tell me what is going on right now-“ 

“Oh, you swear?” You turned on your heel in anger and gestured towards whatever imaginary thing you were gesturing as you huffed. “You swear you’re going to do something about it? Huh? Fuck off, Mick!” 

Mick let out a scoff, which kind of turned into a laugh? He was laughing now? You rolled your eyes and turn your back on him once again. You had plopped yourself on the lawn, looking out at the vast city line in front of you. You began to pick at the grass below you, your hands needing something to fiddled with to try and center your anxiety. You took a deep breath. Mick could see from behind the way your shoulders rose, and shakily fell. He knew you were trying not to cry. And of course he never wanted to see you cry, but part of him wishes you did. He knew it would probably make you feel better… But to be honest, the last time he could remember you crying in front of him was when you fell off your scooter just a few meters from the very house you were constantly visiting. Mick tried to shake that happy thought out of his mind, because he didn’t want to ruin it. 

“Smidge… Please, I know there is something bothering you, and I promise I will not tell anybody else… But you know I hate it when I cannot help you.” Mick spoke softly as he took a seat beside you. You avoided eye contact. 

Mick was trying to decipher what your facial expression was like, but your hair had fallen and was covering the view. He took a deep breath and reached his hand over to yours. Grabbing your fingers delicately, while also trying to get you to stop pulling out the grass, he gave your hand a squeeze. You squeezed back gently and still without making eye contact, you scooted closer to him. You leaned against him, your head on his shoulder. He adjusted as needed, his right arm placed behind him so he could support the both of you.

You always found comfort and safety tucked underneath him. And you knew that you two would be sharing a blanket and watching a movie in no time. But that fleeting thought only gave you a second of relief. The two of you remained in silence as you listened to the rustling of the wind as it danced with the leaves and branches. You could hear birds chirping in the distance and you could practically cut the calmness of the world around you with a knife. This is where you wanted to be. You never wanted to leave this spot, but life was never that kind and soon enough, reality pulled you back in as Mick’s humming brought you and your daydreaming to a halt. 

“I didn’t do well on my last math exam.” You stated. 

Mick stopped humming. He was trying to figure out why that of all things had you so upset. He didn’t comment though

“I got a B- or something…” You sighed. “I studied and I studied… But I only got a B-… It was humiliating.” 

“I am sorry about that, Smidge. I know how much you value getting good grades.” Mick finally responded. His tone was… trying to be supportive, but he really didn’t understand why getting a B- in math was so devastating. He would LOVE to get that grade on a math exam, even after studying. 

“I don’t care about getting good grades, Mickey.” You retorted quicker than you probably should have. You stiffened your posture and moved away from him. Your heart rate was picking up and you were getting nervous. Mick noticed. He noticed everything when it came to you. 

The blue eyed boy wasn’t sure what came over him next, but as you sat now sort of in front of him, he guided his hand up to your face and moved your hair out of the way. He tucked in what he could behind your ear, a few pieces falling still. You looked up at him and he could finally see… and feel just how distraught you were. 

“He cares that I get good grades.” You finally croaked out. 

Mick’s facial expressions now were the confusing ones. At first he was relieved you told him. The next second he was confused as to why that was the reason you were upset…. And the third was panic. And he’d never admit this to you, but if it were because of some guy at your school making fun of you for something like that… Oh he’d have some words with that person. 

“Oh… Ehmmm… Oh…” Mick pressed his lips together in confusion. You could see the gears moving in his head as he tried to figure out who you were talking about. 

“My dad.” You finally cut him off. He looked as though he was about to give himself an aneurysm if you didn't stop him from thinking so hard. 

“Oh.” 

Now, Mick has always had his suspicions about your home life. For instance, when you didn’t come to class one day when you two were younger, the teacher had made a comment about if he knew about your home life or not. He then went to his father and asked advice. He let it go for the time being, because you really weren’t absent a lot, but he made sure make a mental note for later. Seemingly, you had a pretty decent home life. You got along with your older brother, and you always said your mom was one of your best friends. Albeit, you never spoke much about your father. He was in the military and pretty high up in command. His job was very ‘hush hush,’ so even you, his daughter had limited if information on what he actually did as well. You always spoke about him with respect though, and never making it seem like there was anything going on at your house. 

But Mick… Mick was sorely mistaken. You were wearing a zip up jacket which wasn’t uncommon, but Mick did think it was a bit warm for it. He never would dream on commenting on what you were wearing though. Slowly, you peeled the jacket off of you and as slowly as you did, was as slowly as he could process what was in front of him.  

Your arms were littered with bruises. Not just bruises, fingerprints. Someone was pressing into your skin, your precious beautiful skin so hard that they left their fingerprints. Mick blinked quickly, trying to see if his brain was playing tricks on him. Soon enough, you took off your shirt as well. Mick didn’t even care to notice you in your sports bra. But there were even more bruises on your skin that you had been covering for some time now. Based on the yellowing on the biggest one near your ribs on your left side… You had gotten hurt a while ago. Yet, there were bruises on your back and your chest that indicated they were fairly new. Mick felt like his heart was going to explode and his brain was going to go with it. 

You allowed him to look at you - to process the information presented. You thought that showing instead of telling would be more effective, anyway. Moments later, you put your shirt back on and sighed. And if you weren’t sat in the middle of Mick’s backyard, you’d shed your leggings too to show the damage there.

Mick shakily breathed out your name, which he never called you. He always called you Smidge or Liebling - never your real name. He himself felt tears brimming in his eyes as he watched you put your shirt back on and throw your hair back into a ponytail. It was as though the visual he was getting was completely different from the mental images he was receiving. He couldn’t catch up and he just did not know what to do. 

“How long?”

Mick finally gained composure and demanded to know more. His tone was serious, short. He was never this… Cold with you? You could tell he was absolutely fuming too. The tips of his ears were turning red as his jaw pulsated with every clench of it. Now he was the one unconsciously grabbing clumps of grass and ripping them to shreds. 

“What???” You tilted your head. 

“How. Long. Has. He. Been. Beating. You.” The angrier he got the more German he got too. His accent was quite thick as he stood to his feet and began pacing. It was never a good sign when he would pace. His fists were wound up in tight balls, knuckles pale white with tension, as he thought of every scenario in which he could kill your father, and get away with it. 

“Mickey-“ 

“No, don’t you dare ‘Mickey’ me right now! How long has he been beating you up?” Mick cut you off and rushed towards you. He was just inches from you now. 

You knew he was angry, irate even. And you knew he’d never hurt you, and that this anger was not directed towards you. But on instinct, you backed up as your breath caught in your chest. 

Mick shook his head, running his hands through his hair. He knew his parents would be home soon and he knew if they saw how angry he was… They’d have questions, and he could never lie to them… Which means they’d figure out exactly what was going on with you… Which meant… Well, war. 

You took another deep breath and bravely closed the gap between you. You had never felt anything like you had before Mick. You had never had a boyfriend, nor any friends that even came close to the security you felt with him. You reached up and caressed his cheek, his face leaning into the palm of your hand. You almost never initiated physical touch besides leaning on him. But he always welcomed it no matter how limited it would be. He closed his eyes and grabbed your hand in his, the both of them interlocking as he nuzzled into your hand farther. 

“I…I can’t remember how long, Mickey. I can’t remember how long it’s been since it started.” 

♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡

“I have done wrong, you build your tower

But call me home and I will build a throne

And wash my eyes out never again”

There were rare occasions that you and Mick were not together, but he was handsome and simply because of his surname, was like catnip to ladies. While you were still in Formula Three, Mick had graduated to Formula Two. Even so, having his last name meant he was probably getting more invites than the average person. 

But come on, no one is average in Monaco. 

“It’s so nice to finally meet you!” 

“Yeah, you too!” 

Women’s bathrooms at parties and clubs were something else. There was no caste system in place and if you needed to cry about your ex or needed to puke your brains out before Gasolina came on (but who wouldn’t), a women’s bathroom at a club felt like the safest place to do those things. 

“You’re with Shoemaker, right?” The very clearly drunk girl beside you yells in your face. Sure, you were also drunk… But why was she yelling? 

“Schumacher.” You corrected. 

“Yeah!! He has blond hair and is super hot? Yeah, dude, my friend was hardcore hitting on him and getting the vibe from him…” The girl beside you held in a burp… Or maybe she just was just not trying to puke in her mouth. 

“Sure, he’s handsome.” You finally answered. You just wanted to get some water. 

“Oooookay, well I th-think my girl is going to try and make a move on your friend,” The drunk girl slurred as she was trying to get the cap of her lipgloss separated from the tube of the glossy pink liquid. “I just wanted to make sure there wasn’t anything between you guys!” 

The girl began applying her lipstick as you tried to process what she was saying through your own drunken state. Finally, it all came together and you turned your head to face her. 

“You hunted me down just to ask me if your friend has permission to sleep with Mick?” You tried to sound as sober as possible. 

The girl shrugged her shoulders and shot a quick smile to you as she gathered her purse. 

“W-Well, you guys are always together! She just wanted to make s-sure you weren’t a thing.” You nodded as she finished speaking and primping her hair. 

And maybe it was because you were drunk, the emotion of jealousy arose in you. Luckily, your cheeks were already flush from the shots of tequila you consumed earlier. You were sure Mick always had girls trying to hit on him and maybe they were successful in doing so. Mick was an adult and as long as they were consenting adults too, what’s the harm in him having a little bit of fun? 

What’s the harm, right? 

“No, Mickey and I are not a thing. So, uh, tell your friend to not worry about - not to worry about me.” You finally responded as you blotted a cold and wet paper towel on your face. The girl grinned and blew a kiss in your general direction, soon then stumbling out of the bathroom just as clumsily as she had stumbled into it.

You took a few deep breaths and looked down at your phone screen. The letters were moving on the screen as you tried to focus your eyes long enough to reach the Uber app. You didn’t know why you wanted to leave all of a sudden. Consciously, you knew Mick had his pick of women and probably picked from them when he wanted to. Yet again the giant green monster clung to your chest as if it was part of your beating heart. Sloppily typing your location into Uber, you managed to click ‘Order.’ 

Your driver is 13 minutes away. 

You took one last look at the bathroom sink making sure that at the very least you had your wallet and hotel key card. Nodding to yourself, you made your way out of the bathroom and back into the sea of sweaty bodies and blasting music. The exit sign was aglow about 50 yards in front of you??? No - that can’t be right. 50 feet? 50… Dancing bodies? And as you did your best to toddle over to the exit, you finally managed to get out the door. 

The crisp, cool air was a refreshing touch after being in a crowded club for hours now. Frankly, you didn’t like going out to clubs, but Mick did and any chance to score some free tequila was always a win in your book. You leaned up against the wall beside the club closing your eyes. 

“Smidge? Was machst du hier draußen (What are you doing out here)?” A familiar voice, a very hoarse one at that brought you out of your drunken mini nap as you pried your dry eyes open to see who that was.

“Sie sollten nicht alleine draußen sein (You should not be outside by yourself).” 

Mick’s usual perfectly coiffed hair was messily atop his head as his porcelain cheeks were red with the heat of the club and many shots of jäger he did. He wore a simple dark blue button up and black jeans. His shirt sleeves were rolled up to his elbows lazily matching the state of his hair. You smiled at the boy in front of you and eyed his hair up and down. 

“I’m going home, Mickey. Well, not home-home.” You shrugged shoving your phone in his face. He backed up and his eyes squinted at the screen. 

Your driver is 8 minutes away. 

“Alright, Smidge.” Mick took a lean against the same wall just next to you. 

Your shoulders were barely touching when you could feel his fingers try and find yours as your arms were at your side. Your heartbeat began to pick up as your hand finally found his. And it wasn’t a full hand hold… Yet this felt much more intimate. Barely interlocking fingertips, he hummed softly to himself as he looked up at the night sky. 

“How did you even know I was out here? I thought you were getting hot and heavy with some chick somewhere.” 

Mick let out a breathy laugh. He shook his head in disbelief and smiled widely. 

“Hot and heavy?” He repeated in jest. 

“Shut up.” 

You rolled your eyes and tried your best not to look at him. You knew he was staring at you with those eyes and you also know you turn into a puddle when you look into them… especially when drunk. 

“But no, I was not getting hot and heavy with that chick somewhere.” Mick finally spoke. “I’ll always find you, Smidge. Ihre Sicherheit steht für mich an erster Stelle (Your safety is my number one concern).” 

“Ich bin erwachsen (I’m an adult).” You groaned looking at your phone screen. 

Your driver is 4 minutes away. 

The two of you stood again in silence as you still waited for your driver to arrive. Mick hummed to himself and suddenly, was kneeling on the ground. You looked down in utter confusion as he began to undo the clasps to your heels. He didn’t say a word as he managed to effortlessly undo both shoes of yours… And you were honestly impressed because you thought he was way more drunk than you. Taking something out of his own crossbody bag, he opened a tiny case and handed you some flats. You had told him a while ago about these ballet flats you saw on the internet that easily folded up for ease of access. You didn’t think he was paying attention, but there he was as he slipped the flats onto your feet and grabbed your heels. 

You were frozen in stance. He was acting so casually as he looked down the road for the driver. Your heels were in his one hand while the other reached behind him for your hand. Hesitantly, you placed your hand in his and walked over to the curb. 

“I think I see our driver.” 

“Our driver?” 

Your best friend and you exchanged equally as confused expressions. Mick’s expression was that of offense and disbelief, while yours was of perplexity and unsureness. 

“Well, yeah. I am not about to send you back to your hotel room in the middle of the night in Monaco - alone.” Mick stressed and stretched out the last word as if it were supposed to be something completely obvious to you. 

“Again though, I am an adult, Schumacher.” 

Soon enough, the Uber driver pulled up to the curb and rolled down his driver’s window. The driver asked you for your name and as you recited your first and last name for some odd fucking reason, Mick opened the back door for you and ushered for you to get into the car. You eyed him carefully trying to decode his actions. Sliding into the car and putting your seat belt on, you were surprised when Mick also slid into the car. 

“Can I change the address of the Uber? I will pay whatever you need to do so.” Mick chirped as he leaned towards the driver. 

Your best friend and the driver exchanged the how’s of it all, and finally the car began to drive away from the still busy club scene. 

“Why did you give him your address?” You whispered. You could feel the alcohol still inside yourself, swimming in your veins. 

“Alone. Hotel room. Alone. Monaco. Alone-“

It was as though Mick was reciting the Winter Soldier’s trigger words. He spewed off the reasons and tried to also go through the whole ‘Concern for your safety,’ lecture one more time, this time with more emphasis. And truly, you didn’t know what came over you - or maybe you did and maybe those tequila shots were in fact a terrible idea - but as he was ranting and raving about the streets of Monaco and how (and this was very true) unsafe it was to be a woman alone at this time of night, you leaned over and cut him off with a press of your lips to his. 

Mick’s hands found your waist as you had your hands on either side of his face. You had to remind yourself that you were still in the back of the Uber. Pulling away, you could see how glassy his eyes were, yet still filled with the same affectionate expression he always had towards you. Cuddling and tucking yourself into his side, you could hear him humming as he draped a hand over you. 

“Thanks, and sorry for the confusion earlier.” Mick gave the driver an extra cash tip before the two of you made it to his condominium. 

Mick drunkenly fumbled with his keys with one hand while holding yours with his other hand. You tried to pry your hand from his so he could have an easier way of unlocking his front door, but the grip he had on you said otherwise. 

“If I can have a super license… I can open the door with one hand, Smidge.” The front door finally swung open after what felt like an eternity.  

The two of you shed your shoes and as he plopped your heels down on the counter and washed his hands, you managed to find some food in his fridge. 

“I’m drunker than I thought…” Mick mumbled as he came up behind you, his arms wrapping around you. You ever so slight leaned your head back so your the sides of your heads were touching. 

And as you both looked at the inside of the fridge, not wanting to move, you could only turn around to face the boy. You put your arms around his neck and placed a kiss on his forehead. The intimate act was not lost on Mick, either. And this time his hum sounded differently than usual as he closed his eyes, holding you tightly to his body. 

Finally as you two peeled apart, you grabbed a few beers and some leftover pizza, turning on your heel. Mick followed you as you navigated your way into his room. Well, he’d also just follow you anywhere, but as you entered his room, he could swear he was dreaming. 

Mick helped you put the food and beer down and told you he was just going to changed into sweats as he disappeared into his bathroom. At the same time, you rummaged through his closet and drawers to find clothes. You dawned one of his old Ferrari shirts and some shorts you found that actually fit you.

After you both had changed, you got comfortable and sat on his bed criss cross waiting for him to come back. Mick was in his bathroom, his sweats already on, but his mind racing a mile a minute. 

You both were way too drunk (even if it didn’t seem like it) to take things anything further, but for some reason tonight the ambience was much different - more intimate. It was the feeling he so desperately longed for you to feel as well. He’d never force you or guilt you into feeling the way he always has for you, but he was just happy to be able to be there for you when you reciprocated. 

Even if it was just for one night… Mick kept repeating in his head as he splashed his face with water. 

Mick exited the bathroom and smiled softly at the sight in front of him. You were absolutely glowing and the fact that you were wearing his clothes was even better. This was the life he wanted with you, and he knew he’d wait an eternity to earn it. And in any lifetime, he would want to find you, he knew that much to be true. 

♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡

“Skin too tight and eyes like marbles

You spin me high, so watch me as I glide

Before I tumble homeward, homeward”

Mick was absolutely dominating Formula Two, just as he did in Formula Three. So there you were visiting Mick the day before free practice was going to start in Silverstone. 

He knew that your mother had just been diagnosed with cancer and that your time was vastly being taken up by transporting her from place to place when you could. Mick would always offer to help, but you didn’t want him to get involved in your family drama… Well, with your father. 

“I think you’re going to do great things tomorrow, Mickey.” You smiled widely as you went to reach for something in the cupboard above you. The two of you were at his hotel room as he relaxed after a hard day of training and sim driving. 

“You always say that, Smidge.” Mick peered over his shoulder to you, his eyes half focused on the video game’s loading screen in front of him. 

The sound of dishes breaking quickly pulled him out of his half trance. He was on his feet and over to you as fast as Edward stopped that van crashing into Bella. 

Your hand had been cut by the falling and breaking glass, the blood slowly beginning to pour out of the wound. You were praying you didn’t have to get stitches. 

Mick responded hastily, grabbing the nearest dish towel and wrapping your hand with it. Pressure. Pressure. Pressure. He repeated in the back of his head as he pressed gently to your palm. 

“I could have helped you, Smidge.” Mick broke the silence as you winced at his touch. As he helped you to your feet, he guided your hand under the now streaming water. 

“I’m a big girl, Mickey.” You retorted, clearly aware that you were contradicting yourself as he washed your wound of any passing infections. 

He just hummed in response as he shut the water off and examined your hand. He repeated that he thinks you didn’t need stitches, and that he would return shortly the first aid kit. True to his word, he gestured for you to take a seat on the couch. It was as if he knew exactly what you were thinking too, the way his touch was almost nonexistent because it was so soft as he bandaged your hand. Oddly though, you cowered in pain as he moved your arm to the side. It was an unseemly way of moving it, too as Mick tried to see if the bandage was tight enough on the side of the hand he couldn’t see. 

Mick cocked his head to the side and stared at you with one look: That better not have been because of what I fucking think it is. 

You hesitated being the one to break the looming silence between you two now, but you thought if you didn’t he’d say it aloud - and to have someone else say it aloud was sometimes worse than you admitting it. 

“It’s not what you-“ 

“Show me.” Mick cut you off, his deepening blue eyes piercing the air with every hyperbole you could think of. 

“Mickey, it’s really nothing. You just moved my arm a weird way, I’m okay.” 

“Show. Me. Now.” 

And as you always do what you’re told, you lifted your shirt slightly and before you could even take it off, Mick was stood on his feet and typing something into his phone. He didn’t utter a word to you for the next several minutes, he was just typing furiously on his phone. You had put your shirt back on and remained silent and sat on the hotel’s couch. You knew there was no stopping whatever he was doing. 

“I have to finalize it, but you are to have security now. One guard, or eighteen, I do not care - You are no longer going to be alone.” 

“Mick, I can’t have a security guard. I don’t even want one.” You took a deep breath and exhaled. 

“I do not fucking care! I don’t! I really do not fucking care.” Mick had slammed his phone down on the counter making you flinch. 

Fuck. And as he watched you carefully, you began to sob for only the third time in your entire friendship. Mick cursed himself in all the languages he knew as he approached you with trepidation. Sitting beside you, he began to mutter apology after apology, also in every language he could muster up in that moment. Mumbling again to himself, he grabbed the blanket off of the back of the couch  and wrapped you both in it. You were still crying as you tucked yourself safely into his side. You felt badly for staining his shirt. 

“Ich weiß nicht, was ich tun soll (I don’t know what to do).” You spoke in a whisper as you gripped onto his shirt with dear life. 

And frankly, maybe his way was a bit extreme, but he only had one train of thought as he hummed between the two of you, his arm tightening around you. 

Take you far away from him and bring her home to you, Schumacher. 

♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡

“I know I tried, I was not stable

Flawed by pride, I miss my sanguine eyes

So hold my hands up, breathe in and breathe out”

As school children, it seemed like the two of you were inseparable. There were weekends where you didn’t see him, of course, but you’d always get to talk on the phone after his karting events. You truly appreciated the way his family opened up their home and arms to you, as well. You really didn’t know how much they knew about your own home life, but it was something to be said that they never invaded your privacy. 

Mick had finished second in his karting race, which wasn’t the result he obviously was vying for, but it was amazing nonetheless. As his family made their way back to the hotel room, he got cleaned up and made his way over to the tiny kitchen. 

“Has she called yet?” Mick’s small voice interrupted his mother’s train of thought. 

“No, baby. But I will let you know when she does; I always do.” Mick’s mother reassured him as he frowned and walked towards the tv area of the hotel room. 

Mick’s mother sighed and watched her son sulk on over to the couch. She knew how much he cared for you, and even as young as he was, she also knew he loved you. He might have not known it was love at the time, but she knew all the signs of it and he exhibited every single one of them. She put away whatever she was working on, and made her way over to the couch. She sat beside her son and grabbed his hand reassuringly. 

“Is there something wrong, Sohn (son)?” 

“She never is this late to call me, Mama…” He quietly uttered. “I think there is something wrong.” 

While his mother pressed for more information he truly didn’t have, he tried his best to vocalize all the things he noticed about you that were not typical. His mother began piecing the tiny bits of information he was giving to her together and all she could was sigh. She couldn’t have fathomed what you were going through at home and maybe Mick didn’t realize the signs as he listed them off for her, but she sure did. Part of her wanted to do something about too, right then and there… But it wasn’t totally her place either. She didn’t know the severity of the situation or if Mick was retelling things as correctly as a young boy could. All she could do was put it in the back of her head and make note of it. 

A few hours later, Mick’s mother entered the room where Mick was relaxing on the full sized bed. He was playing some game on his Gameboy, his tongue slightly hanging out in pure concentration. She cleared her throat and handed him her phone. It took him a second to register what was happening, but as soon as it clicked he put his Gameboy down and grabbed the phone excitedly. Mick’s mother couldn’t help but smile as she left her son to his own devices. 

“Smidge! Finally, you call. I have been waiting all afternoon for you to call!” Mick was energized now as he set up on his bed. He could hear you shuffling around, presumably trying to find a place to sit. 

“I’m sorry I’m late.” 

Now, Mick was around a lot of loud karts and when he’d go to his dad’s races, those were even louder. Was his hearing as bad as it was at his age or were you being abnormally quiet? 

“Smidge? I can barely hear you! You have got to learn to speak up on the phone.” 

Again, you said something but he could barely understand it. He tried to push you to speak louder as he pressed the phone to his ear as closely as he humanely could. 

“Es tut mir… Leid. Ich… verstecke… mich und muss… flüstern… (I’m sorry. I’m hiding and I have to whisper).” You finally sputtered out in broken German. 

Mick’s eyes widened as he finally understood what you were telling him. He didn’t care if you spoke an entirely different language, he would do anything he could to understand you. 

“Vor wem versteckst du dich (Who are you hiding from)?” Mick was fully sat up, his legs dangling off the side of the bed now as he was on alert. It took you another few moments to gain enough bravery to speak. 

“I’m hiding from-“ 

Suddenly, you were cut off by a booming voice. The voice was deep and loud enough that Mick could hear it over the phone. He pulled the phone away from his ear as he tried not to be afraid. The voice on the other line was muddled, but Mick picked up a few things here and there. 

“WHAT DID I TELL YOU ABOUT THE PHONE?” 

“NO, YOU LISTEN TO ME, GIRL!” 

“I’m sorry, dad! I’m sorry, please!” Your voice was frantic as you defended yourself to the best of your ability. 

Mick was rushing now to where his mom sat on that same couch. He gestured for her to put it on speaker and listen too. Mick’s mother’s expression fell as she listened to absolute abuse you were going through and she knew right then and there, it would be something she would have to do something about. 

“Shut up! Shut the fuck up, you stupid little girl!” 

“Daddy, please-“ 

And then the line went dead, with the sound of your phone being crushed - stepped on in brute force. 

Your voice was so tiny as you shrunk into yourself. You had no intention of allowing the Schumacher’s to hear that part of your life. You were deeply worried that they were going to try and intervene now and make matters… worse? You had a million thoughts going a million miles a minute. 

But just as fast as those thoughts raced through your mind, was just as fast as your father stepped the phone. Mick knew you would deny everything, or at least tell him that your father was just exceptionally upset that day. He knew you’d come up with any and every excuse to protect the very man who was supposed to be protecting you. Mick couldn’t comprehend any of it. But he knew he would be there for you to make sure when you were ready, and you let your guilt be washed away… That he would make certain you never hurt again. 

♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡

“And in the middle of the night, I may watch you go

There'll be no value in the strength of walls that I have grown

There'll be no comfort in the shade of the shadows thrown

You may not trust the promises of the change I'll show

But I'd be yours if you'd be mine”

Mick and the rest of his family were on a short summer break in Australia. He offered for you to join him as he always wants you by his side, but due to your mother’s declining health you had to refuse. Of course he understood, but he was still disappointed. He remembered distinctly you telling him that Australia was one of your favorite places and that you wish you could move there one day. 

And it being summer in Australia, the sun was sweltering and Mick was trying not to get sunburnt as he sat under the tree near the lake where his family was staying. There was an old bench swing attached to the large branches above it. Mick debated the stability of the swing and the branches, but eventually gave in and sat on it. Gently swinging back and forth, he took in the scenery and the sight of the beautiful vast lake in front of him. 

He missed you. And sure he missed all his other friends, but you weren’t just anybody else. He missed you. He pulled his cellphone out of his pocket and searched for your name. Opening up the text message thread between you two, he began to type. 

Smidgen ❤️: Smiiiiiiiidge, i misssssssss you!! 

You were at your mother’s house, trying to spend as much time with her as you could. She was taking a nap in the recliner beside you when you heard your phone ding. 

You: Mickey, you sound drunk. Are you drunk? You know you’re not supposed to text people when you’re inebriated 😅

Mickey 🐭:  Never! But I am not drunk, I just miss you. 

You: Mick, you always miss me. How is Aussie? 

Mickey 🐭: Boring without you.

You: As are most things. I’m sorry I couldn’t join you this year. 

On the other side of the world, Mick sighed as you two continued to text. He loved his family and he loved his off time, but a deep seated part of him that had been growing and growing over so many years worried about you being by yourself. What if something were to happen and he was three continents away from you? What if he couldn’t protect you? You had always tried to reassure him that you could take care of yourself when he would be away, and that typically when you were at your mother’s house, you in fact were left undisturbed. 

He knew this. But he didn’t care for it nonetheless. 

Another two weeks went by on his vacation and as he tried to keep busy with various adventurous activities, the image of your smile and the sound of laughter filled his brain as if it they were always meant to be there, resting neatly in the crevices of his mind. 

There was only about a week and a half left before he got to go back home to Germany. Mick was sprawled out on his bed, listening to some music. Soon, the sound of the doorbell ringing caught his attention. He was the only one currently home, so he annoyingly turned his music off and got up to go see what the fuss was about. Upon opening the door he was stopped in his tracks. He practically had to scoop his jaw off of the floor. 

“Smidge? Do my eyes deceive me?” You shook your head with a grin. 

Mick engulfed you in a tight hug, lifting you off the ground and peppering your face with kisses. He was always very affectionate with you. He brought you inside and gathered his breath back into his lungs. You had a duffel bag and a backpack with you that you managed to set down finally after the long awaited reunion was over. Looking around the house that was clearly lived in, you turned back to your best friend. He was grinning one of the biggest grins you had ever seen on his face while he grabbed two water bottles. Opening yours for you, he handed you the bottle and waited for you to sip it. 

“I cannot believe you are here! I think this is the happiest I have ever been.” 

“I can see that!” You laughed along with him as you took a few more sips of water. You sighed happily as you put the cap back on the bottle. “Is there a place I can put my stuff?” 

Mick nodded with elation as he grabbed your two bags. Gesturing with his head, he motioned for you to go towards his room. You opened the door and saw that the bed was made and it was fairly clean. It was almost as if he knew you would come here. Mick set down the bags and awaited for you to finish your scan of the room. You turned around and didn’t realize how closely he was standing behind you, as you collided with his body. He used his hands to steady you and definitely took the opportunity to bring you into another hug. The smell of his cologne was familiar; safe. You nuzzled into his chest as his arm found solace wrapped around your body. 

He didn’t know why you were here, and he really didn’t care, but he also knew that there was probably a good reason. It had to have been a good reason if you left your mother with her home care nurse, instead of… 

Suddenly, Mick braced for the worst. 

“Mick… Mick, you’re squeezing me too tightly.” You croaked out trying to unravel yourself from him. Immediately, he loosened his grip on you and smiled slightly. 

“Sorry, Smidge. I just missed you a lot.” The two of you made your way to his bed and laid down on it together. 

You easily found your way to the side of him and nestled in comfortably while he rested his head on top of yours. 

“As glad as I am that you are here… Is your mother…?” Mick awkwardly tried to start a conversation. He needed to know one way or the other. 

“She’s alive, Mick. She’s alive.” 

The blond boy sighed a sigh of relief, pulling you even closer to him. He could feel his body relax and his body temperature increase when you would cuddle him. He didn’t respond to you, only hummed in consolation. 

It had happened before in Monaco, the overwhelming feeling that you needed more from him. He didn’t pry further as to why you were there, and maybe that was a big reason as to why you were feeling pulled to him. For once, he didn’t press you to explain yourself or question why you bought a plane ticket all the way to Australia when your mother was as sick as she was. He simply was there to be there, and that meant more to you than anything at that moment. 

You climbed on top of him, your bodies finding their ways around each other. Your legs were on either side of him as you sat on his torso. His hands found your hips, his eyes finding yours. And as glanced down at the boy below you, you wondered to yourself if this was always how it was supposed to be between the two of you. Leaning down and closing the gap between you, you again pressed your lips against his. 

It was more fervent this time though. The catastrophic and carnal need to feel his hands roam your body and his lips claim yours as his overwhelmed your senses as your body melted into his. He was vigilant as he explored your body with his hands, making sure he wasn’t hurting you. You had to take a breath between the multiple shows of endearments between the two of you. His eyes were glued to you as you sat back up on his torso. Peeling your shirt off, you tossed it somewhere. Mick just watched in adoration as you removed your bra as well. He looked at your body on top of his as though you were sculpted by DaVinci himself. And by all accounts, you were.  

You blushed at the attention he was giving you, only to remove yourself from sitting on top of him. He frowned and wondered if he did anything wrong. But before he could begin mentally listing things he could have done wrong, you tugged on his own shirt. He sat up and reached his hands back behind his head. 

“Can I?” You interjected quickly your eyes filled with curiosity.

Mick just smiled and nodded. He let his shirt fall again and waited for you to approach him. You scooted closer to him and took a deep breath in and released. Sure, you had seen him shirtless countless amounts of times, but this was much, much different. You didn’t mind it. 

Your fingers found the hem of his shirt and with a trying motion, you began to pull the shirt over his head. He assisted you a bit, his broad shoulders getting in the way of you being able to pull the shirt completely over his head. Your fingers began to dance down his chest, the circles and trails they were leaving behind was a feeling Mick would never forget. Still sitting up, you climb into his lap and had your legs on either side of him. You wrapped your arms around his neck and gently tugged at the hair on the nape of it. Again, with a hunger and desperation you had never felt before your lips crashed into his and his hands found your hair in a hurried attempt to get as close to you as possible. 

He never wanted to let go of you and the feeling that came with this. He had loved you for so long. And to have you here, in his bed, making it known that maybe… just maybe you loved him too… He didn’t want to wake up tomorrow morning. He didn’t want it to be a dream. 

“Bist du sicher (Are you sure?)” Mick finally breathed out in between sloppy kisses. You gleamed at him, your lips swollen with fervor. Biting your bottom lip, you nodded. “I need words, schätzen. I need you to say-“ 

“Yes. I’m sure, Schumacher.” 

Mick pulled you in again, his lips finding your neck as he peppered it with kisses, sucking ever so prudently as he made his way up and down the soft skin of your neck. 

You didn’t know what would come after this, after everything was said and done… But for now and just for now, you wanted to be his just as much as he wanted to be yours. 

♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡

current day 

“So love the one you hold

And I will be your goal

To have and to hold

A lover of the light” 

It had to remain to be seen how long Hamilton was going be out of the season. He was going through some personal issues and while you knew Silverstone was going to be your first race, you didn’t expect to have to race before that. And of fucking course your first race is Monaco. You were busy training and preparing for the course, trying your best to keep a strong head on your shoulders. There was so much pressure with you being the first female driver and Monaco being your first official race, that you began to feel nauseous. Finding the nearest bin, you excreted the contents of your stomach into it, grimacing at the bitter taste that came afterwards. 

“Kiddo? Are you right?” Daniel’s thick accent interrupted you washing of your hands. 

“Yeah, fine. I’m just nervous.” You washed your mouth out with the sink water and wiped it on the nearest towel. 

“I get that…” Daniel looked around the paddock as you followed him with your eyes. “Hey, do ya think we can go somewhere private, to chat?” 

You cautiously nodded and led him to your driver’s room, shutting the door behind you. 

“What’s this about, Dan?” 

Daniel awkwardly sat down on the chair and ran a hand through his curls. Making a few tiny popping sounds with his mouth he finally looked at you. 

“Is there, uh, something goin’ on with you and Mick?” 

“What do you mean?” 

Sure, you two weren’t talking as much anymore. And you didn’t think it was that obvious, but you remained stoic trying to gauge where this conversation was headed to. 

“He’s been like, really, weird.” Daniel struggled to get the words out as he scrunched up his face. 

“Uh… I’m sorry that’s he’s been acting funnily, but maybe he’s going through something on his own.” You shrugged your shoulders. 

“Well… I mean… He’s acting like, more, sulky than usual?” Nodding along as the Aussie driver continued to list off reasons as to why and how he was more sulky, you finally stopped him before he said anything else. 

“I’ll talk to him, don’t worry, Dan. I’m sure it’s nothing.” You shot him a smile and waited for him to respond. 

“He loves you, you know. Like, a lot. Like more than the average man has the capacity for love.” You sighed and pinched the bridge of your nose. 

The last time you two had really spoken in person was when you ended up fighting. You knew he loved you. You knew he was in love with you… But he also knew that you try so hard to not allow yourself to be vulnerable like that. And maybe the relationship was physically reciprocated, Mick struggled with the fact that it was not emotionally reciprocated more than anything. You loved him, sure. He was your best friend… But the voice inside your head knew that for your own protection, you shouldn’t be allowed to love anyone… Especially Mick. You didn’t deserve him and he didn’t deserve someone who has made him wait this long for something he so desperately craved. All you could do was reiterate that you’d talk to him and try to get him to be less-sulky. 

The Australian soon left the room and you were alone. Pulling out your phone, you quickly dialed Mick. 

“Schätzen, is that you? Are you okay?” Mick’s tone was immediately serious as he answered the phone. You two were barely talking and now you were calling him. 

“I’m fine, Mickey. I just wanted to know if you wanted to get dinner tonight.” 

“Tonight?” Mick was fumbling with something on the other end. It was odd too that he didn’t immediately accept your dinner invitation. 

“Is tonight not a good night for you?” 

Soon, your heart dropped once again and as it lay wafting in the pit of your stomach, you could feel whatever contents were left in there if any, slowly creeping their way back up your throat. 

“Who is that?” It was a woman’s voice. She was giggling. “Ugh, Mickeyyyy, hang up!!!” 

Mickey. 

No one else called him that except for you, in fact he made it a point to not allow it. That name was reserved for you… So you thought. 

Mick mumbled something to her in French, his hand covering the microphone. 

“Yeah, I could make tonight-“ 

“Nevermind, you’re busy and I don’t want you to give up your evening just for me.” Your tone as surprising as it was to you, was actually quite genuine. You never wanted him to feel like he couldn’t have fun. 

“Smidge, I can-“ 

“No, seriously it’s okay. I’ll see you tomorrow?” Mick continued to move around where he was, the thick accent of her Monegasque-ness peeking through the phone call.  

If your German was terrible, your French was even worse. You sighed to yourself and decided to hang up the phone. He wasn’t paying attention to the conversation and you didn’t want to pay attention anymore. Rubbing your eyes, you grabbed your backpack and headed out of the paddock to your car. 

There was something that had changed so quickly about your surroundings. As you reached for your keys it was if the wind was knocked out from your lungs. You slowly turned around, keys still in your hand. 

How the fuck did he find you here of all places? 

“Hello, daughter. Shall we have it out at your place of… work… Or is there somewhere I can knock some fucking sense into you?” 

You looked around at the parking lot and by every strand of bad luck, it was seemingly empty and you two were the only ones there. You had every intention of shutting it down, right then and there, but you stood frozen in front of the man who was supposed to love you, but instead you spent your entire life picking up the pieces of the mess he made. Some of the pieces were even lost in the trauma of trying to keep your composure long enough to get where you were. Mick was always the one to lend you the broken parts that seemed to fit perfectly, just so you could have the wherewithal to start over again… And again, and again, and again… 

“Did you suddenly go mute? Answer me.” You flinched in response, your back hitting your car behind you. You could just hear him calling you pathetic. You knew he was thinking it. 

“I can drive us to my hotel room. Just… Just don’t make a scene, okay?” 

Your father rolled his eyes as he snatched the car keys from you. With your head hung like you were a little girl in trouble again, you trudged over to the passenger’s side. You placed your backpack in the back seat and waited for your father to drive off and take you hopefully to your hotel room. 

What seemed like a century later, you two were up in your hotel room. You stood on opposite ends of the living space provided. 

“This is quite fancy. How can you afford it?” 

“Formula One pays well, but I know you’re not here to talk about my job.” You were short with him, trying to keep your emotional and mental distance. “Why are you here, dad? I’m very busy and-“ 

He hastily closed the distance between you, grabbing the back of your head, clumps of hair intertwining with his knuckles. Forcing you to look up at him, his glaring and empty eyes matched his unwavering stoicism. He squinted at you, smirking. 

“Pathetic. You’ve always been fucking pathetic.” Releasing your hair, your father smacked you in the face, causing you to be  tossed to the ground, by brute force. He was now circling you like a vulture does a dead zebra. You didn’t dare look up at him. You remained submissive on the floor, making certain that you didn’t shed a tear. 

“Where’s your boyfriend now, huh? Not coming to your fucking rescue this time?” You didn’t answer. 

With a swift kick to your side you fell over on the cold floor and held your ribs in pain. Still, you did not cry.  

“Answer me! I asked you a goddamn question!” 

You opened your eyes to find your father towering over you still, sure as hell ready to deliver another kick to your side. 

“He’s out with friends! Out with friends!” You repeated in complete fear. You could hear your father scoff and walk away from where you were. 

You thought that would be the last of it, and as you began to get up there was another kick to your side. This time it was a little lower as you felt the pain radiating up and down your leg. He must’ve hit your thigh or something. 

You were breathing heavily, doing all you could not to cry. After he got a good look at you, he threw your phone down at your feet. He surely shattered your screen. And fuck if it if he didn’t know what he was doing, because he did in fact kick in places you could cover up. And even so, you the blow to your face wasn’t hard enough to leave a lasting mark. Just one for the time being. Fuck. 

Soon enough, you could hear the hotel room slam. You were sure you were going to get complaints from other hotel goers, because it ended up shaking the walls. With every bit of strength you had, you reached for your phone. The screen was indeed cracked, but still usable. You knew that Mick was out and occupied… Your heart cried hoping that where he was, he’d hear you and come… But you also didn’t want to bother him… You leaned up against the wall, your breathing shallow. Looking at the phone screen you dialed the only other person you could think of. 

On the third ring, they answered and you resented how happy they sounded. 

“Oi! Can’t get enough of me, huh?” Daniel’s accent poked through the phone as you tried to gain enough composure. 

You were afraid of him seeing you like this, because you were one hundred percent sure he had no idea what abuse you’ve gone through your entire life. It was strictly need to know between you and the Schumacher’s. Releasing the pent up air in your lungs finally, you stuttered out his name. 

“Wait, wait, what happened?” Daniel’s tone of voice suddenly changed as you repeated as best as you could the turn of events. You could hear him grabbing his car keys and leaving his apartment. 

“I’m sorry, Dan. I’m so sorry… I’m sorry…” You were incessantly repeating, your sobbing growing louder and louder. He was trying his best to reassure you through the phone. He instructed through his own panic to stay on the phone with him until he got to you. 

You obeyed as you always did. 

You weren’t sure how much time had passed, but you heard a knock on the hotel door that scared you half to death. Maybe it was your father coming back to finish what he started. 

“Hey, it’s Dan. Can you let me in or are you…” Daniel’s voice trailed off into hopelessness. He didn’t want to imagine to you were so hurt you couldn’t even answer the door. 

Groaning loudly, holding your side trying to support every weary step you took towards the door, finally you managed to turn the handle enough where Daniel could just push it open. You stumbled backwards as you had to find somewhere to lean up against. 

Daniel’s brown eyes were immediately scanning every inch of your body, trying to decode your physical state. You were keeled over the tiny kitchen counter provided. Your shoulders rose and fell far too slowly for anybody’s liking. He saw how swollen and red your cheek had become and there was an emotion begin to bubble in his stomach and protrude through his chest that he rarely ever felt. His kind hand reached out to rub your back, being so careful that he didn’t hurt you. Daniel helped you over to the couch and sat you down. He didn’t dare say words but he knew you would tell him when you were ready. 

“He found me at the track… Took my keys and made me tell him where my hotel was…” 

Daniel nodded cautiously along, his eyes painstakingly wide as he did his best to take in the information. 

“I didn’t have a choice… I didn’t want… Fuck…” 

“Hey, it’s… Take your time.” Daniel wanted to say that it was okay, but clearly… it was definitely not. You took another deep breath. 

“He just came out of nowhere and grabbed me by my hair, and started yelling at me…. Then slapped me or something… And i fell to the ground…” 

Daniel gulped in absolute horror as he did his best to try and keep composure, clenching his jaw so hard he thought he might break a tooth. 

“He kicked me in my ribs and in my right leg… I think… I can’t even… Remember…. Then he threw my phone at my feet and left…” 

The Aussie boy next to you licked his lips in anxiety and you could see out of the corner of your eye how hard he was gripping the sofa beneath him. A familiar sight to you, as he white knuckled the cloth. Now, it was his turn to take a deep breath. 

“Listen, this not your fault and I don’t want you to ever think that it is, alright?” You nodded to his words, unable to make eye contact out of shame and guilt. “I’m going to get some ice, right? It’s just down the hallway. I’m going to take the room key so you can stay here with the door locked.” 

Daniel did one more visual pass over you as you slumped to the side of the couch. You were exhausted on all fronts. You knew though you couldn’t fall asleep, in case you had a concussion too. He left the room shortly and as he ventured down to where the ice machine was he was furiously dialing Mick. But to no avail, he wasn’t answering his phone. 

DannyRic to MickSchu: Mick!!! Mate!!! Pick up the phone or like, come to the hotel!! She’s in a bad way, mate. And fuck, there’s only so much I can do. 

DannyRic to MickSchu: I’m going to murder you mate, please pick up the phone! 

Daniel shot off a few more panicked texts after those before he reached the ice machine. He figured you wouldn’t want him texting any other person either. All he could do was wait. He filled the ice bucket and practically sprinted back to your hotel room. Opening the door with the key, he announced himself so as not to scare or startle. You lifted your head and watched him get a towel to wrap the ice in so it wouldn’t burn your skin. Your eyelids felt heavy and your body broken. 

If you died tonight, that would be better than anything to follow. 

Daniel stuck around for a few more hours, keeping you company as he made sure you got something to eat and drank water as best as you could. He tried to also convince you to tell Toto that you couldn’t race tomorrow in free practice… But that was immediately shut down by you. Daniel didn’t want to fight that battle when there were other matters to attend to. 

You could see that it was now dark out, and you had to go to sleep at some point. Sighing to yourself, you turned towards the very tired Aussie. 

“I need to shower, Dan… Could you maybe, help me get, in there?” 

The Australian’s brown eyes widened so much they encompassed his entire face. 

“I, uh… Yeah, I can, uh, do that for you.” Daniel stuttered out as he rose to his feet. 

Reaching out a hand towards you, he helped you up and over to the bathroom. He was going to kill Mick for not answering his phone. And Mick was going to kill Daniel for seeing you naked. But what other choices were there? The two of you made it into the bathroom and he motioned for you to sit on the toilet seat. 

“Can you raise your arms up at all? I don’t want to have to cut your shirt.” Daniel chuckled nervously. You only nodded with a smile, lifting your arms as far as you could. 

“Fuck… I forgot… Fuck…” You cowered in pain as you held your left side. “Okay, I can do it. Just, uh, if you need to stretch out the shirt to get it over my head. I don’t mind.” 

He complied with his famous smile and soon your shirt was off and to the side. He could see the forming bruise on your rib cage and couldn’t imagine how much pain you were in internally. He kept his thoughts to himself as he helped you step out of your jeans. Down to your underwear and bra, the tall Aussie just stood there. 

“Take a picture, it’ll last longer.” You joked. throwing a wink at him. You might as well break the tension with a joke. “But, I really think I got it from here. Thank you so much, Dan.” You placed a kiss on his cheek and as he made his way out of the bathroom, he could hear you singing to yourself before the sound of the water escaping the shower head covered your voice. 

He once again took his phone out and finally saw that he had a lot of missed messages from Mick. 

(14) Missed Calls from: Mick Schumacher 

(29) Text Messages from: Mick Schumacher 

Daniel looked through all the texts as fast as he could, but the only watch catching his eye that his friend would be over soon… And that was… About twenty minutes ago… Which means… 

“Smidge! Smidge! Let me in, it’s Mick! Let me in, or I swear-“ 

Daniel opened the hotel door and immediately was greeted by a very distraught man. He let Mick in, and let Mick scour the hotel space like a bloodhound looking for a missing person. Mick stopped short of the shut bathroom door, as he could hear the water running. 

“What happed, Daniel? Fuck! I should’ve been here, fuck, fuck, fucking fuck!” Mick didn’t allow enough time for Daniel to answer before he was practically foaming at the mouth with rage. If it weren’t a hotel room - your hotel room, Daniel was 99% Mick would’ve started to punch the walls. 

“Mate, mate, calm down. I can’t talk to you when you’re like, all mad.” 

“She even asked me to come out to dinner tonight, and if I just had fucking said yes - God fucking dammit!” Mick didn’t know what to do with his body with the amount of pure, unadulterated fury riddled his body. “I’m so fucking stupid! Ich bin so ein Idiot (I’m such an idiot)!”

 

Mick continued to yell in German. Daniel could barely speak proper English, so he had no idea what he was saying. The rant was cut off though by the sound of the shower turning off in the distance. Mick took one deep breath and breathed out through his nose. 

“Thank you, Daniel… For being there for her.” 

Daniel put a supportive hand on his shoulder. Giving it a good squeeze, the two boys said goodbye to each other. Mick made Daniel promised not to tell a soul. And for the first time in his life, Daniel knew he was going to take this promise to the grave. 

Mick gained some more self control and pushed the bedroom door open slightly. Giving it a small knock, his voice immediately made you perk up where you were. 

“Kann ich den Raum betreten (Can I enter the room)?” 

Still wrapped in a towel, you slowly made your way to the ajar door. 

“Bist du anständig (Are you decent)?”

“No, but come in anyway, please.” 

Mick opened the door further and saw that you were sat on the edge of the bed. The towel hugged you tightly, but he noticed you were gripping it as if it were going to fly away from your body. He rushed to your side and took you into his arms. He could tell you had been crying despite the shower. He didn’t even notice the tiny bruise forming on your face before immersing you into his embrace. Shortly after some time spent in his arms, you peeled away and finally made eye contact. 

Mick’s hand went to your bruised cheek, his thumb just above hovering the swelled skin. Your dad had never hit you in your face before, he always was so careful. Mick couldn’t help but stifle back some tears, his previous selfishness clouding his racing thoughts. 

“I need help getting dressed for bed, Mick.” 

He knew what that meant. He knew exactly what that meant, in fact. But without another word, he kissed your forehead and got up to go over to your suitcase. He took out some underwear and a t shirt. Carefully, he helped you step into your underwear, looking away when you needed to adjust the elastic. The air caught in your chest again as you tried to calm yourself. Mick hummed comfortingly and allowed you to take all the time you needed. Your hand was shaking as you began to take off the towel. You didn’t care about him seeing your chest, no. He’s already seen it. You were not wanting him to see how bruised your torso was and how big of a bruise there was on your thigh. But you had to, and so you did. 

Mick couldn’t find the words. He looked down at your bruising body, his lips beginning to tremble. He was shaking his head unable to believe that because of his own stupidity, your body was again bruised and broken. 

He helped you put a short on and helped you climb into bed. You just wanted to sleep and dream about a better day tomorrow. Mick made sure you were comfortable before going to turn off all the lights and making sure the hotel door was locked and dead-bolted. He made his way back to you and crawled into the bed with you. Your body was too sore to move around much, so Mick just went where you needed him to be. Soon after you tucked underneath his arm, he could hear you steadily breathing, the warmth and security of his body making you for the first time today feel human again. 

“I’m so sorry, Schätzen. I’m so sorry that I wasn’t here…” Mick whispered into the air, not knowing if you were asleep or not. He knew he wasn’t going to get much sleep either. He wanted to stay awake as long as possible just in case your father decided to come back. 

“It’s fine, Mickey… Let’s just… Go to sleep…” Your voice was filled with fatigue as you began to doze off into unconsciousness. Mick pulled you closer into his body. 

The emotionally sapped German boy who you adored so much was laid there contemplating whether or not he deserved to be there beside you. If anything, Daniel would be the one that deserves this spot. He was there… He came when you called… He was everything Mick promised to be for you, but in failing to do so, Mick just stared at the ceiling frozen in regret. He could feel some tears falling down his face, wiping them quickly with his free hand. Mick took a deep breath once more and suddenly, his mind was made up. He had one goal in life now. He didn’t care about race car driving, or sponsorships… Hell, he didn’t even care about anything else at this point. Mick Schumacher vowed to himself that he would never allow anything else to happen to you from then on and out until the day he died. He knew it, you probably knew it even as you slept on his chest… There was one goal he had now. 

Mick Schumacher was going to find your father and make him pay. 

♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡

TL;DR: This chapter depicts phases of reader's life as she navigates hiding the abuse she suffers from her best friend. He finds out and he vows to never allow her to be hurt again. There are emotional and romantic boundaries crossed in this chapter too, but nothing too explicit - Just the allusion to reader and Mick having sex. The last part is written for the current day. Reader's abusive father finds her after training and again physically abuses her. Daniel Ricciardo comes to her rescue as they both await Mick to arrive.

♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡

https://www.helpguide.org/find-help

https://nomoredirectory.org/

https://victimconnect.org/resources/national-hotlines/

https://www.domesticshelters.org/resources/national-global-organizations/international-organizations

https://www.therapyroute.com/article/helplines-suicide-hotlines-and-crisis-lines-from-around-the-world

These are some helpful links I found while searching the internet. Please do not hesitate to reach out for help for yourself or anyone you may know is involved in a violent and abusive situation.

[the-au-collector]

Epic: The Musical and Linked Universe

So I’m sure someone else noticed this already but Epic: The Musical gives off Linked Universe vibes. So I’m honor of the Circe Saga releasing next week, I thought I’d put in my 2 cents about what songs I associate with each Link (+some non-canon LU Links). There’s a bit of another LU-Links-reunite AU building up in my head but there’s no real direction yet so have this brain vomit instead:

- The Horse and The Infant - Warriors. So this goes into my headcanon that Warriors is the hero of 10,000 years ago. No I have no foundation for that theory. It just IS. Anyways he’s fighting the Yiga with an army of Gerudo and Hylians. He has to kill the Yiga leader’s son, who’s the new incarnation of Ganondorf. The kid is an infant. I don’t think I need to explain more but yeah.

- Just A Man - Hyrule. This song is the ultimate Hyrule song for me. It explains his character in my Relinked AU too. It’s just… it’s Hyrule’s song. As for the story based off of Epic: The Musical itself, I think he’s running from some sort of war in his Hyrule (either a civil war or a war with Calatia). The details aren’t that clear yet, other than he kills someone and feels bad about it.

- Full Speed Ahead - Wind. Need I say more?

- Warrior of the Mind - our first non-canon Link: First! I Imagine First and Hylia kicking ass together during this song

- Polyphemus - Okay, we’re getting into true AU territory with this one, but this is Twilight’s song. He’s trying to piece together the Mirror of Twilight again and accidentally angers a Hinox or other large monster. With him is Dusk, Rusl (or maybe Colin), and Dusk is stabbed at the end. That’s all I’ve got for this one.

- Survive - Time. And this one has a Story. Ganondorf attacks Time’s castle town with an army of Gerudo and monsters. Time and the Sages fight him off but at the last second he breaks free and slaughters everyone, including Time. However, just as the song ends (the point where Polyphemus falls asleep), Zelda rewinds time and sacrifices herself to seal Ganondorf into the Mirror of Twilight. This is the moment the Downfall Timeline is created too.

- Remember Me - Our second non-canon Link, Shadow! He, Four, Dot, and others are fighting this monster. The Four Sword shatters, Shadow takes charge but in the end wants to do the noble thing. Oh and he gives his name as “Link” and not Shadow (or Shade, as Four’s beginning to call him in my headcanon)

- My Goodbye - Legend and Fable have a falling out. Legend’s sick of feeling used because he’s the hero, so he decides he’s had enough.

- Storm - Our third non-canon Link, Age! Basically a Tears of the Kingdom scenario except Age and his Zelda (Fauna) never went down below the castle. He never loses his arm and Fauna never goes to the past, but they have to evacuate Hyrule to the sky with the help of the Light Dragon who clears the way.

- Luck Runs Out - Sky and Groose. Idk what went down in Sky’s Hyrule but they’re having a disagreement about how Sky’s handling it.

- Keep Your Friends Close - Our last non-canon Link, Spirit! This one also has some story behind it to make the song fit. Idk why, but he and his Zelda (Phantom) have gone to speak to their Wind God, Zephos (the same from Wind Waker) who gives them a challenge. They fail and Spirit gets separated from the group. I imagine it might have something to do with Ganondorf who’s still stuck under the receding Great Sea.

- Ruthlessness - This absolute bop goes to Four. It’s also a follow-up to Remember Me, so that means the monster Shadow refused to kill is Special. Related in some way to Fierce Deity special. So the story here is after the encounter with the monster, Four, Shadow, and others (I’m debating giving Vaati a redemption arc?) decide to try to get help from the god Fierce Deity. Except Deity is pissed because he thinks Four is a weakling when it was actually Shadow who took the blame for what happened to the monster. Fierce slaughters all of Four and Shadow’s men, Four seals himself into the Four Sword to distract/hurt Fierce, and Shadow escapes but feels really guilty.

That’s all I’ve got for now. I’ll add the Circe Saga when it comes out.

[religion-is-a-mental-illness]

By: Robert Lynch

Published: April 7, 2023

In my first year of graduate school at Rutgers, I attended a colloquium designed to forge connections between the cultural and biological wings of the anthropology department. It was the early 2000s, and anthropology departments across the country were splitting across disciplinary lines. These lectures would be a last, and ultimately futile, attempt to build interdisciplinary links between these increasingly hostile factions at Rutgers; it was like trying to establish common research goals for the math and art departments.

This time, it was the turn of the biological anthropologists, and the primatologist Ryne Palombit was giving a lecture for which he was uniquely qualified — infanticide in Chacma baboons. Much of the talk was devoted to sex differences in baboon behavior and when it was time for questions the hand of the chair of the department, a cultural anthropologist, shot up and demanded to know “What exactly do you mean by these so-called males and females?” I didn’t know it at the time but looking back I see that this was the beginning of a broad anti-science movement that has enveloped nearly all the social sciences and distorted public understanding of basic biology. The assumption that sex is an arbitrary category is no longer confined to the backwaters of cultural anthropology departments, and the willful ignorance of what sex is has permeated both academia and public discussion of the topic.

Male and female are not capricious categories imposed by scientists on the natural world, but rather refer to fundamental distinctions deeply rooted in evolution. The biological definition of males and females rests on the size of the sex cells, termed gametes, that they produce. Males produce large numbers of small gametes, while females produce fewer, larger ones. In animals, this means that males produce lots of tiny sperm (between 200 and 500 million sperm in humans) while females produce far fewer, but much larger, eggs called ova (women have a lifetime supply of around 400). Whenever scientists discover a new sexually reproducing species, gamete size is what they use to distinguish between the males and the females.

Although this asymmetry in gamete size may not seem that significant, it is. And it leads to a cascade of evolutionary effects that often results in fundamentally different developmental (and even behavioral) trajectories for the two respective sexes. Whether you call the two groups A and B, Big and Little, or Male and Female, this foundational cell-sized difference in gamete size has profound effects on evolution, morphology, and behavior. Sexual reproduction that involves the union of gametes of different sizes is termed anisogamy, and it sets the stage for characteristic, and frequently stereotypical, differences between males and females.

My PhD advisor, the evolutionary biologist Robert Trivers, was at that doomed colloquium at Rutgers. It was Trivers, who four decades earlier as a graduate student at Harvard, laid down the basic evolutionary argument in one of the most cited papers in biology. Throwing down the gauntlet and explaining something that had puzzled biologists since Darwin, he wrote, “What governs the operation of sexual selection is the relative parental investment of the sexes in their offspring.” In a single legendary stroke of insight, which he later described in biblical terms (“the scales fell from my eyes”), he revolutionized the field and provided a broad framework for understanding the emergence of sex differences across all sexually reproducing species.

Because males produce millions of sperm cells quickly and cheaply, the main factor limiting their evolutionary success lies in their ability to attract females. Meanwhile, the primary bottleneck for females, who, in humans, spend an additional nine months carrying the baby, is access to resources. The most successful males, such as Genghis Khan who is likely to have had more than 16 million direct male descendants, can invest relatively little and let the chips fall where they may, while the most successful women are restricted by the length of their pregnancy. Trivers’ genius, however, was in extracting the more general argument from these observations.

By replacing “female” with “the sex that invests more in its offspring,” he made one of the most falsifiable predictions in evolution — the sex that invests more in its offspring will be more selective when choosing a mate while the sex that invests less will compete over access to mates. That insight not only explains the rule, but it also explains the exceptions to it. Because of the initial disparity in investment (i.e., gamete size) females will usually be more selective in choosing mates. However, that trajectory can be reversed under certain conditions, and sometimes the male of a species will invest more in offspring and so be choosier.

When these so-called sex role reversals occur, such as in seahorses where the males “get pregnant” by having the female transfer her fertilized eggs into a structure termed the male’s brood pouch and hence becoming more invested in their offspring, it is the females who are larger and compete over mates, while the males are more selective. Find a species where the sex that invests less in offspring is choosier, and the theory will be disproven.

The assertion that male and female are arbitrary classifications is false on every level. Not only does it confuse primary sexual characteristics (i.e., the reproductive organs) which are unambiguously male or female at birth 99.8 percent of the time with secondary sexual characteristics (e.g., more hair on the faces of men or larger breasts in women), it ignores the very definition of biological sex — men produce many small sex cells termed sperm while women produce fewer large sex cells termed eggs. Although much is sometimes made of the fact that sex differences in body size, hormonal profiles, behavior, and lots of other traits vary across species, that these differences are minimal or non-existent in some species, or that a small percentage of individuals, due to disorders of development, possess an anomalous mix of female and male traits, that does not undermine this basic distinction. There is no third sex. Sex is, by definition, binary.

In the 50 years since Trivers’ epiphany, much has tried to obscure his crucial insight. As biology enters a golden age, with daily advances in genotyping transforming our understanding of evolution and medicine, the social sciences have taken a vastly different direction. Many are now openly hostile to findings outside their narrow field, walling off their respective disciplines from biological knowledge. Why bother learning about new findings in genetics or incorporating discoveries from other fields, if you can assert that all such findings are, by definition, sexist?

Prior to 1955, gender was almost exclusively used to refer to grammatical categories (e.g., masculine and feminine nouns in French). A major shift occurred in the 1960s when the word gender has been applied to distinguish social/cultural differences from biological differences (sex). Harvard Biologist, David Haig documented that from 1988 to 1999 the ratio of the use of “sex” versus “gender” in scientific journals shrank from 10 to 1 to less than 2 to 1, and that after 1988 gender outnumbered sex in all social science journals. The last twenty years have seen a rapid acceleration in this trend, and today this distinction is rarely observed. Indeed, the biological concept of sex in reference to humans has become largely taboo outside of journals that focus on evolution. Many, however, are not content with limiting the gender concept to humans and a new policy instituted by all Nature journals requires that manuscripts include a discussion of how gender was considered in all studies with human participants, on other vertebrates, or on cell lines. When would including gender be appropriate in a genetic study of fruit flies?

This change is not merely stylistic. Rather, it is part of a much larger cultural and political movement that denies or attempts to explain away the effects of biology and evolution in humans altogether. The prevailing dominant view in the social sciences is that human sex differences are entirely socially constructed. In that interpretation, all differential outcomes between men and women are the result of unequal social, economic, and political conditions, and so we do all we can to eliminate them, particularly by changing our expectations and encouraging gender-neutral play in children. This received wisdom and policies based upon it, however, are unlikely to produce the results proponents long for. Why is that?

Because sex differences in behavior are among the strongest effect sizes in social, and what might be better termed, behavioral sciences. Humans are notoriously inept at understanding differences between continuous variables, so it is first useful to define precisely what “statistical differences between men and women” does and does not mean. Although gamete size and the reproductive organs in humans are either male or female at birth in over 99 percent of cases, many secondary sexual characteristics such as differences in upper body strength and differences in behavior are not so differentially distributed. Rather, there is considerable overlap between men and women. Life scientists often use something called the effect size as a way to determine if any observed differences are large (and therefore consequential) or so small as to be ignored for almost all practical purposes.

Conceptually, the effect size is a statistical method for comparing any two groups to see how substantially different they are. Graphically, it can be thought of as the distance between the peaks of the two distributions divided by the width of those distributions. For example, men are on average about 6 inches taller than women in the United States (mean height for American women is 5 feet 3 inches and the mean height for American men is approximately 5 feet 9 inches). The spread of the height distributions for men and women, also known as the standard deviations, are also somewhat different, and this is slightly higher for men at 2.9 inches vs 2.8 inches for women. For traits such as height that are normally distributed (that is, they fit the familiar bell curve shape), one standard deviation on either side of the mean encompasses about 68 percent of the distribution, while two standard deviations on either side of the mean encompass 95 percent of the total distribution. In other words, 68 percent of women will be between 60.2 inches and 65.8 inches tall, and 95 percent will be between 57.5 to 68.6 inches. So, in a random sample of 1000 adult women in the U.S., approximately 50 of them will be taller than the average man (see figure above).

A large effect size, or the standardized mean difference, is anything over 0.8 and is usually seen as an effect that most people would notice without using a calculator. The effect size for sex differences in height is approximately 1.9. This is considered to be a pretty big effect size. But it is certainly not binary, and there are lots of taller-than-average women who are taller than lots of shorter-than-average men (see overlap area in figure). Therefore, when determining whether an effect is small or large, it is important to remember that the cutoffs are always to some degree arbitrary and that what might seem like small differences between the means can become magnified when comparing the number of cases that fall in the extremes of (the tails of their respective distributions) of each group.

In other words, men and women may, on average, be quite similar on a given trait but will be quite different in the number who fall at the extreme (low and high) ends of their respective distributions. This is particularly true of sex differences because natural selection acts more strongly on men, and males have had higher reproductive variance than females over our evolutionary history. That is to say that a greater number of men than women have left no descendants, while a very few men have left far more. Both the maximum number of eggs that a woman produces over the course of her reproductive life versus the number of sperm a man produces and the length of pregnancy, during which another reproduction cannot occur, place an upper limit on the number of offspring women can have. What this means is that males often have wider distributions for a trait (i.e., more at the low end and more at the high end) so that sex differences can be magnified at the tail ends of the distribution. In practical terms, this means that when comparing men and women, it is also important to look at the tails of their respective distributions (e.g., the extremes in mental ability).

The strongest effect sizes where men tend to have the advantage are in physical abilities such as throwing distance or speed, spatial relations tasks, and some social behaviors such as assertiveness. Women, meanwhile, tend to have an edge in verbal ability, social cognition, and in being more extroverted, trusting, and nurturing. Some of the largest sex differences, however, are in human mate choice and behaviors that emerge out of the evolutionary logic of Trivers’ parental investment theory. In study after study, women are found to give more weight to traits in partners that signal an ability to acquire resources, such as socioeconomic status and ambition, while men tend to give more weight to traits that signal fertility, such as youth and attractiveness.

Indeed these attitudes are also revealed in behavior such as age at marriage (men are on average older than women in every country on earth), frequency of masturbation, indulging in pornography, and paying for sex. Although these results are often dismissed, largely on ideological grounds, the science is rarely challenged, and the data suggest some biological difference (which may be amplified, indeed enshrined, by social practices).

The evidence that many sex differences in behavior have a biological origin is powerful. There are three primary ways that scientists use to determine whether a trait is rooted in biology or not. The first is if the same pattern is seen across cultures. This is because the likelihood that a particular characteristic, such as husbands being older than their wives, is culturally determined declines every time the same pattern is seen in another society — somewhat like the odds of getting heads 200 times in a row. The second indication that a trait has a biological origin is if it is seen in young children who have not yet been fully exposed to a given culture. For example, if boy babies are more aggressive than girl babies, which they generally are, it suggests that the behavior may have a biological basis. Finally, if the same pattern, such as males being more aggressive than females, is observed in closely related species, it also suggests an evolutionary basis. While some gender role “theories” can attempt to account for culturally universal sex differences, they cannot explain sex differences that are found in infants who haven’t yet learned to speak, as well as in the young of other related species.

Many human sex differences satisfy all three conditions — they are culturally universal, are observable in newborns, and a similar pattern is seen in apes and other mammals. The largest sex differences found with striking cross-cultural similarity are in mate preferences, but other differences arise across societies and among young children before the age of three as boys and girls tend to self-segregate into different groups with distinct and stereotypical styles. These patterns, which include more play fighting in males, are observable in other apes and mammal species, which, like humans, follow the logic of Trivers’ theory of parental investment and have higher variance in male reproduction, and therefore more intense competition among males as compared to females.

If so, why then has the opposite message — that these differences are either non-existent or solely the result of social construction — been so vehemently argued? The reason, I submit, is essentially political. The idea that any consequential differences between men and women have no foundation in biology has wide appeal because it fosters the illusion of control. If gender role “theories” are correct, then all we need to do to eliminate them is to modify the social environment (e.g., give kids gender-neutral toys, and the problem is solved). If, however, sex differences are hardwired into human nature, they will be more difficult to change.

Acknowledging the role of biology also opens the door to conceding the possibility that the existence of statistically unequal outcomes for men and women are not just something to be expected but may even be…desirable. Consider the so-called gender equality paradox whereby sex differences in personality and occupation are higher in countries with greater opportunities for women. Countries with the highest gender equality,24 such as Finland, have the lowest proportion of women who graduate college with degrees in stereotypically masculine STEM fields, while the least gender equal countries such as Saudi Arabia, have the highest. Similarly, the female-to-male sex ratio in stereotypically female occupations such nursing is 40 to 1 in Scandinavia, but only 2 to 1 in countries like Morocco.

The above numbers are consistent with cross-cultural research that indicates that women are, on average, more attracted to professions focused on people such as medicine and biology, while men are, again, on average, more attracted to professions focused on things such as mathematics and engineering. These findings are not a matter of dispute, but they are inconvenient for gender role theorists because they suggest that women and men have different preferences upon which they act when given the choice. Indeed, it is only a “paradox” if one assumes that sex is entirely socially constructed. As opportunities for women opened up in Europe and the United States in the sixties and seventies, employment outcomes changed rapidly. However, the proportions of men and women in various fields stabilized sometime around the early 1990s and have barely moved in the last thirty years. These findings imply that there is a limited capacity for outside interventions imposed from the top down to alter these behaviors.

In the cold logic of evolution, neither sex is, or can be, better or worse. Although this may not be the kind of equality some might want, we need to move beyond simplistic ideas of hierarchy.

It is understandable, however, for some to fear that any concession to nature will be used to justify and perpetuate bias and discrimination. Although arguments for why women should be prohibited from certain types of employment or why they should not be allowed to vote were ideological, sex differences have been used to justify a number of historical injustices. Still, is the fear of abuse so great that denying any biological sex differences is the only alternative?

The rhetorical contortions and inscrutable jargon required to assert that gender and sex are nothing more than chosen identities and deny what every parent knows require increasingly complex and incoherent arguments. This not only subverts the public’s rapidly waning confidence in science, but it also leads to extreme exaggerations designed to silence those who don’t agree, such as the claim that discussing biological differences is violence. The lengths to which many previously trusted institutions, such as the American Medical Association, go to deny the impact that hormones have on development are extraordinary. These efforts are also likely to backfire politically when gender-neutral terms are mandated by elites, such as the term “Latinx,” which is opposed by 98 percent of Hispanic Americans.

Acknowledging the existence of a biological basis for sex differences does not mean that we should accept unequal opportunities for men and women. Indeed, the crux of the problem lies in conflating equality with statistical identity and in our failure to respect and value difference. These differences should not be ranked in terms of inferior or superior, nor do they have any bearing on the worth or dignity of men and women as a group. They cannot be categorized as being either good or bad because it depends on which traits you want to optimize. This is real diversity that we should acknowledge and even celebrate.

Ever since the origin of sexual reproduction approximately two billion years ago, sexual selection, governed by an initial disparity in the size of the sex cells, has driven a cascade of differences, a few absolute, many more statistical, between males and females. As a result, men and women have been experiencing distinct evolutionary pressures. At the same time, however, this process has ruthlessly enforced an equality between the sexes, ensured by the fact that it takes one male and one female to reproduce, which guarantees the equal average reproduction of men and women. The production of sons and daughters, who inherit a near equal split of their parents’ genetic material, also demands that mothers and fathers contribute equally to their same- and their opposite-sex children. In the cold logic of evolution, neither sex is, or can be, better or worse. Although this may not be the kind of equality some might want, we need to move beyond simplistic ideas of hierarchy, naively confusing difference with claims of inferiority/superiority, or confusing dominance with power. In the currency of evolution, better just means more copies, dominance only matters if it leads to more offspring, and there are many paths to power.

The assertion that children are born without sex and are molded into gender roles by their parents is wildly implausible. It undermines what little public trust in science remains and delegitimizes other scientific claims. If we can’t be honest about something every parent knows, what else might we be lying about? Confusion about this issue leads to inane propositions, such as a pro-choice doctor testifying to Congress asserting that men can give birth. When people are shamed into silence about the obvious male advantages in almost all sports (but note women do as well or better in small bore rifle competition, and no man can match the flexibility of female gymnasts) and when transgender women compete in women’s sports, it endangers the vulnerable. When children are taught that all sex differences are entirely grounded in mere identity (whether self-chosen or culturally-imposed) and are in no way the result of biology, more “masculine” girls and more “feminine” boys may become confused about their sex, or sexual orientation, and harmful stereotypes can take over. The sudden rapid rise in the number of young girls diagnosed with gender dysphoria is a warning sign of how dangerously disoriented our culture can become.

Pathologizing gender nonconforming behavior often does the opposite of what proponents intend by creating stereotypes where none existed. Boys are told that if they like dolls, they are really girls trapped with male organs, while girls who display interests in sports or science are told they are boys trapped with female organs and born in the wrong body. Feminine boys, who might end up being homosexual, are encouraged to start down the road towards irreversible medical interventions, hormone blockers, and infertility. Like gay conversion therapy before, such practices can shame individuals for feeling misaligned with their birth sex and encourage them to resort to hormone “therapy” and/or surgery to change their bodies to reflect this new identity. Can that be truly seen as progressive and liberating?

The push for a biologically sexless society is an arrogant utopian vision that cuts us off from our evolutionary history, promotes the delusion that humans are not animals, and undercuts respecting each individual for their unique individuality. Sex is neither simply a matter of socialization, nor a personal choice. Making such assertions without understanding the profound role that an initial biological asymmetry in gamete size plays in sexual selection is neither scientific nor sensible. 

-

Robert Lynch is an evolutionary anthropologist at Penn State who specializes in how biology, the environment, and culture transact to shape life outcomes. His scientific research includes the effect of religious beliefs on social mobility, sex differences in social relationships, the impact of immigration on social capital, how social isolation can promote populism, and the evolutionary function of laughter.

==

I've said before that I learned more about evolution as a result of combatting evolution denial from the religious than I ever did at school. It's similarly true that I've learned more about sex, biology, chromosomes, genes and hormones as a result of the sex-denialism and anti-science attitudes of the gender cult.

[the-peak-tmnt]

HI PEAK! I got some questions for you!

Firstly, is there going to be a POV change at all in the future? As in, someone asides from takes over as the main story teller, or will it say as Raph?

Secondly and a much more technical one, how do you go about pacing your scenes/ and or do you have any tips for writing scenes?

Hey! Thank you for the ask!

Firstly, is there going to be a POV change at all in the future? As in, someone asides from takes over as the main story teller, or will it say as Raph?

Reciprocity will always be primarily from Raph's third-person limited POV. The brief Leo POV at the end of Chapter 14 was kind of a special circumstance. I wanted give readers a little peek at just how dire things are for Leo, especially after what he did to Raph in Chapter 13.

That being said...there will be some unusual things happening with the POV in Reciprocity because of the ability that links the brothers together.

We've already seen Leo's thoughts, feelings, and even skills leaking through the mind meld in a couple instances without Raph understanding that's what's happening.

Very soon, things are going to take a turn for Raph. Once he finally confronts one of the biggest issues holding him back, his own control over the link will begin to develop.

...and then things are going to get very leaky.

Secondly and a much more technical one, how do you go about pacing your scenes/ and or do you have any tips for writing scenes?

Okay, this part is much harder to answer!

I have a BA in film, so the only writing I really know is screenwriting. I'm also pretty dyslexic and am a very slow reader, so most of my inspiration and style comes from film and television. When I write, I'm usually thinking of each chapter from a cinematic standpoint. I try to envision how I would both shoot and edit the scene if it were being filmed.

For example if I'm at a part in a scene where it would cut to a closeup of a character, I instead write a line describing the character's expression. If I would use a medium shot or cowboy shot, that's when I focus on describing body language. If a shot would linger, I add add a line about awkwardness or tension. If there's action and things are happening very quickly, then sentences become short, clipped, and direct.

I am fully aware that this is useless advice if you're not into film much, so I'm really sorry 😅 But if you are, then my advice is to try thinking about a scene from a movie similar to the scene you're trying to write. After all, the entire history of cinema is just filmmakers borrowing from the ones who came before them. Even the No Diggity fight montage in Mutant Mayhem is inspired by the hallway fight scene from Oldboy!

The other thing I'm trying to do is to lay foundations for future scenes and plot points. Some details that just seem like fun little pieces of world building will come back to be important much later. It's taking every once of willpower I have to not point some of them out right now, but it makes it all the more satisfying for both you and your readers when the characters finally trip the land mine you laid x number of chapters ago!

[nomsfaultau]

I recognize exactly zero people follow me for this type of content, but this is the kind of nerd I am. The following post is an exploration of Tommy’s anomalous ability (Red) on bacteria, specifically on gut microbiota systems, as well as the implications. Link to the research paper that finally convinced me to write this post, though I’d deffo been toying with thoughts for a while. 

The main question is this:

Some important details that have been established: 

Red causes individuals to attack indiscriminately (excluding Tommy)

Red effects germs

Red does not cause the cells in multicellular organisms to attack one another (else the effects would include some symptom of that, such as white blood cells attacking the body. Allergy attacks, the like, I haven’t researched this vein as it isn’t what occurs)

The main idea that I started with was that Tommy’s gut bacteria would be fascinating as a result of the fact he often consumes Red due to not having a fork. Tommy’s main concern is that it makes his meals slimier and taste Red-er, but theoretically there’d be massive disruptions to the stability of his bacteria system. Specifically in the fact he’d be constantly sending it into overdrive competition, likely decimating colonies of helpful bacteria. Instability builds resilience and all that but the constant waves of self destruction would leave decimated diversity and have severely reduced redundancy. He’d almost constantly be in an undesirable stable state and likely unhealthy. Go far enough and you get the question of if he can properly produce all the enzymes needed for digestion. Unless he was getting probiotics pretty constantly, his microbiota would be incredibly unstable and fluctuating wildly. Major health problems would arise. 

This is not seen to occur, so it leads me to the question of how Red interacts on the microbiology level. I can see two directions that this can be taken in: Possibility 1. Stomach acid denatures Red—and other processes to render Red useless. 

Red is classified as a biohazard by the SCP Foundation, though it is not entirely clear what that entails. If it’s treated as something biological, its effects could be disrupted by the acidity. Ergo wouldn’t effect digestion. Hurray, Tommy can still eat stuff. (Could possibly still be used for toothpaste? I would have to research mouth bacteria.)

For someone who isn’t Tommy: Good news! All the bacteria in body isn’t now single mindedly trying to kill them. Also wouldn’t be permanently affected by Red should it become integrated into their body via digestion. 

This further rises the question of what can be done to eliminate Red’s affects. It is noted to not cause reactions after it has dried. I am assuming there is some type of denaturing from temperature. Furthermore it does not appear to retain effect merely for staying wet. The evidence for this is two fold: 

There have not been uncontrolled outbreaks of zombie-like mindless violence from contaminated water.

Presumably Tommy has showered at least once in the last x years. He is canonically mentioned to have showered inside the SCP Foundation, who could be decontaminating all water he uses. However, there is a period of a few months between the appearance of Red and his capture and Mother Innit would NOT allow him to get that stanky.

Ergo Red can be made into a safe state that can come into contact with people both externally and internally without problems. Especially given British/American water sanitation procedures tend to involve bacteria. Because Tommy did not cause a water safety crisis of disastrous proportions, I’m going to assume temperature/UV (possibly) at minimum effect it. Could be internal body heat destroys it. Other possibilities: Acidity naturally, dilution of the substance (minimum dose necessary?), or time since disconnected from Tommy.

Possibility 2. Red only affects super organisms. 

Now it’s a strenuous definition, but I think it makes a lot of things easier. The gut bacteria would be considered part of the person. Because frankly if we went all the way and individual cells started fighting each other inside a multicellular being…it would drastically conflict with what’s depicted. So Tommy wouldn’t be destroying his digestive system and probably a lot of other things.

A question would then be ‘what constitutes a super organism?’. Possible solution: 

Souls. They are an integral aspect of the Fault magic system. However, based off my components of a soul (memory, emotion, true name/agency, bonds) it rises the question of if the bacteria in question have souls. Which I kinda don’t think they do. Then again they are single cell organisms so that wouldn’t be a concern on their own save when they’re contributing to the whole. A body integrates their gut microbiota into their soul, likely through the bonds aspect Red recognizes via the individual soul. Bacteria then count as individuals unless they’re contributing to a multicellular organism, in which case they’d not fall into infighting. This is viable because Red is shown to affect bodiless souls such as voidlings. Therefore it has some recognition of the soul for the purpose of constructing super organisms. 

Now, if it’s effecting exclusively souls that’s a problem, because I’m still unconvinced germs have a soul by Fault’s definition of one. I think Red transcends both soul and being, which ever is necessary in order to cause conflict. I’d go into that but this is already lengthy and it would involved insanely massive spoilers. 

One problem: Tubbo is a super organism by classic definition. However, Tommy’s Red does not affect the whole of Tubbos’ hive mind, instead individual bees. Though the personality known as Tubbo is an amalgamation of many souls, so I think that can function as explanation since it is shown the bees technically have their own thoughts/emotions even if they’re very small bee feelings. Bees have their own definition as super organisms due to their own digestive bacteria. Turtles all the way down. But notably, not all the way up, or we could involve macro cohesive units such as, say, entire countries going to war. 

Plants though. Very different forms of sentience. And if we take into account mycorrhizal networks and consider them as creating super organisms (not of the same species, but as earlier established between humans and gut bacteria this isn’t a pre-requisite of classification according to Red) what happens once contaminated by Red? Is an entire community of plants going to attack? What would that even look like?

So the biggest question of all: What happens when Tommy touches grass?

[chibimui]

The Apothecary Diaries LN2 Thoughts - Part 1 (Prologue-ch5)

Alright, I've started Light Novel 2 and boy, I have so much to say. As I said in my thoughts for LN1, that felt very much like an introductory book, but LN2 we finally start getting a bit more details about different characters, and we start seeing mysteries in the story that start linking together to form larger plots.

So, let's just jump in to it.

(Warning: These thoughts may contain spoilers from later light novels all the way up until LN15.)

I think a lot of the things I'm going to be highlighting are all the hints, clues and bits of foreshadowing we get to future events, and information about characters. LN2 is centered more around Maomao's backstory, but it does also set the foundation for the major plot/mystery that occurs throughout the next few novels.

Right away in the prologue we start off with conversation between Jinshi and the Emperor. I found the descriptions of Jinshi and his inner thoughts as he talks to the Emperor really interesting because there is a certain level of comfort, but also a guarded aspect in how Jinshi acts around him. I guess that makes sense because regardless of whether this man is Jinshi's "older brother", he is still talking to the Emperorof China of Li.

We also get our first mention of a "wager" Jinshi has with the Emperor. This conversation definitely adds to the bag of evidence that Jinshi has some suspiciously deep connections to royalty. Not anyone can just make a bet with the Emperor and get away with it.

We also get more evidence of how Jinshi sees himself, and it's always just so sad to me. He describes himself as "average" and he reiterates his belief that it's only his looks that give him any advantage in life. The unfortunate thing is, it makes perfect sense he sees himself this way based on other things we learn about him. Jinshi was raised in a super sheltered environment, he rarely ever got to go out and rarely got to interact with others. Once he was allowed to interact with others, it's also easy to assume that most people probably focused more on his looks than anything else because he's just that attractive AND because of his status as a member of the royal family.

Given all of this, it still really stands out to me how truly childish Jinshi really is. And I don't even mean in a bratty way, I mean... he genuinely kind of seems like a lost little kid sometimes who is still learning how to build connections to people in a normal way and not in a political way.

Anyway, moving on - the prologue jumps to Maomao leaving the Verdigris House because she's been bought by Jinshi (he paid off her debt that she owed for the nights Lihaku spent with Pairin). Here, we get another hint of foreshadowing!!

I am going to assume, with later knowledge, that his face darkening was due to Luomen thinking about who he had worked for the inner palace and realizing Maomao is working a bit too closely with those same people.

Can I also just stress again, I love Maomao's relationship with Luomen. Even though he's not present in this novel, Maomao thinks about him a lot and his presence is felt by the way she frequently refers customers to him, and uses his reminders/lessons to her as a guiding compass for how she should act and approach things.

Now with Maomao working for Jinshi we also get way more interactions between them and so much more room for the absolute hilarity that occurs because they are still learning how to read and understand each other (of course they both suck at it, but Jinshi is trying so hard. Maomao is trying much less, but she puzzles about him way more often than when she first met him, so... progress!!).

Seriously these two are a whole freakin' circus act. We have Maomao who just straight up just doesn't listen to 90% of what Jinshi says because it's unimportant to her, and Jinshi just barging along thinking he's done the best thing ever and patting himself on the back. Meanwhile, Gaoshun continues to suffer.

Back to some more foreshadowing!

I was really surprised to see that right away, before we even meet Lakan through Jinshi, that we already get hints that there is something about going near the military barracks that Maomao does not want to do.

Chapter 2 is when we finally get our first mystery for the book--the storehouse blowing up. We are also re-introduced to Lihaku. We get an observation from Maomao that Jinshi has asked her to keep her freckles, which Maomao doesn't understand, but I think comes from Jinshi wanting to protect her. Maomao is truly missing all the signs that Jinshi is actually personally interested in her well-being, but honestly? Fair, it's not in her best interest to begin assuming that someone of Jinshi's status would be personally interested in her, especially since he's currently her direct employer.

Also in the novel it makes it more clear that all the rumors about a courtesan being bought out from the Verdigris House are about Maomao.

I like this early team up of Maomao and Lihaku. I think it shows that Lihaku is a pretty practical guy who isn't really caught on social standing too much because he just lets Maomao do her thing which is actually pretty abnormal. Regardless of the *ahem*, "gift" she gave him last book, Maomao is not an officer, she isn't even a court lady. She's just an attendant, a servant--and a female servant at that. She is basically bottom of the food pile. Lihaku would have had every right to tell her to screw off, and another person might have, but he doesn't. Truly, what a stand up guy. He has another great moment in this book later that also shows what a truly decent guy he is.

As we continue along with the novel, I continue to enjoy all the juicy little bits of detail we get from both Jinshi and Maomao as she works under him, like this:

First of all, the highlighted line just made me laugh.

The rest of the passage also caught my interest too though because this very much shows a Jinshi who is still trying to understand how he can get close to Maomao, but still hasn't realized how to do so in a way that isn't just "buying her out". He geninely wants Maomao to like him back and knows this can only work if he respects Maomao's boundaries, but this boy is stumped. To be fair, his method of connecting with people through favours and transations is probably all he knows growing up in the palace. Unfortunately, Maomao is absolutely the last person who would respond positively to such a method.

Even just their banter is so much more funny in this book though. I'm not even sure if Maomao herself realizes that she's become way too comfortable getting sassy with him.

Maomao's lesson, chapter 3, is one of my most favourite moments in the anime, again, just for pure humor. It was so funny. The anime captured the novel's description of curious puppy Jinshi so well. He wants to know what she's doing so badly. I'm sure Jinshi is aware of what sex is and how it works, but I imagine currently he very much sees it as a means to an end to have a baby and nothing more. The more pleasurable side of sex is probably something he doesn't think too much about, likely due to suppressing his testosterone. I feel like his curiosity is very much coming from an innocent place - I think he genuinely cannot fathom what on earth Maomao could be teaching that isn't basically a medical lecture.

Hilarity aside though, this is the first time we get introduced to the new concubine, Loulan! Her description is so telling and drops so many hints about her real character, but I love how we don't get the pay off for any of this until LN4.

Right away, from the very first description of her, we get the detail that it's impossible to tell what her eyes really looked like due to all the make up she wears. The hints were there the whole time! Such great pacing. Such great placement of details that make it rewarding for a reader to go back to and read again.

I'm going to be jumping ahead again as we go through another mystery in chapter 4, this time the man who has been knocked out from some severe food poisoning. This is also our first introduction to Basen (without knowing it's him)!

Ya'll, I love Basen. He's my precious boy in this series okay. I will protect him with my life. He's just... he's just a little guy trying to do his best. I love how serious he is, but also how that makes him so awkward. I love how he's learning to become more comfortable around women. I love how he's a duck dad. I loooove his romance with Lishu and I desperately hope we get a happy end to that soon. I will talk more about all of these things when we get there - but for now, we actually don't even know who Basen is. We just know he's the help Gaoshun found for Maomao.

Currently Basen just seems like a dude with a major stick up his ass. Knowing what we know about Basen later, I do wonder why he's so grumpy around her. Part of it can be chalked up to his natural awkwardness around woman, but I feel like his coldness is beyond that. It makes me wonder how much he knows about Maomao when he first meets her--if he's only heard about her through Gaoshun and so only sees her as someone who adds stress to her dad's life by way of Jinshi, or if he knows about her through Jinshi and is just kinda wary because honestly - Jinshi probably describes Maomao in the weirdest way.

Jinshi: Basen, Maomao glared at me like a bug, it was amazing! Basen: HOW COULD SOMEONE TREAT YOU THAT WAY >:(

Anyway - we will have many more opportunities to talk about my baby. Random passages I highlighted from ch4.

Maomao thinking about Luomen and using him as her guiding compass to remaining ethical and moral.

LONGAN REPRESENT. I am going to take this time to make a PSA and say that lychee's are mid. They're fine as a flavour for drinks, desserts etc. but on their own, longans are 10000% better, and so are rambutans. I said it. I am someone who is very grumpy that everyone loves lychee's.

Jinshi forcing Maomao to vomit was hilarous in the anime. I love the way his VA was just like "HA-KE!!!!" Top notch voice acting.

Another A+++ scene from the anime. Sorry I know this isn't an anime review but like, THIS SCENE WAS SO FUNNY YA'LL.

(I just want to add I never once said my thoughts reading the light novels were ever going to be intelligent or deep).

Okay, but chapter 4 actually has some pretty serious stuff regarding Lakan as this is the first time Jinshi mentions him to Maomao and once again, Maomao has a very suspicious thought that implies she knows much more than she's letting on:

I feel like the anime was also pretty good about drip-feeding the fact Lakan and Maomao are connected, but I feel like actually reading the words on paper and not just hearing it as an after-thought from Maomao makes it so much more obvious that Maomao knows Lakan. I know this specific thought from Maomao was also in the anime, but I still feel like in the anime the viewer picks up much more quickly that Lakan knows Maomao and is probably her dad, but not necessarily that Maomao knows who he is unless you were a very astute watcher (which I was not, I'll admit). The novel makes it pretty hard to ignore the fact that Maomao has some serious beef with someone in the military.

The novel I think also makes it much more clear that part of why Lakan is antagonizing Jinshi so much is because he thinks Jinshi bought Maomao for to be in a relationship with her. The anime genuinely makes Lakan out to seem pretty creepy, vile and gross before they spill his backstory, but in the novel -- while he certainly comes off as antagonistic, it doesn't seem as extreme. He just comes off as someone who has a bone to pick with Jinshi specifically.

The hilarious bit about this portion when Lakan is describing Fengxian, Maomao's mother and a former-courtesan at the Verdigris House, is that at first you think you're only supposed to think of Maomao and how Jinshi also reacts the same to her.

But... given what we later learn about Gaoshun and his wife, this kind of also applies to him too. Gaoshun's reaction isn't just in relation to Jinshi, but I think he's also realizing that this applies to himself. LOL.

Chapter 5 is another mystery - the Lead mystery with the family of three brothers who were left with a mysterious will. I really liked this mystery, it was clever and I like how it felt more like a puzzle. Passages I want to highlight from this chapter:

Noooo Maomao, Jinshi is trying - really, he is! But again, highlighting how much Maomao is actively just not noticing what Jinshi is trying to do despite his best efforts. He's trying guys, HE'S TRYING.

And this passage that finally directly introduces Basen. I am wondering if Basen's disdain here is legitimate of if it's just what Maomao is assuming. At the same time though, Jinshi aside, Maomao is typically really good at reading people so, once again, I do wonder why Basen seemed so grumpy around her.

Anyway, the chapter ends with Maomao solving the mystery and once again, trying to give her dad some more business by referring people to him if they're feeling unwell.

This isn't an original thought, but I was watching some YT reactors who pointed out that Maomao constantly thinking of Luomen juxtaposes how much disdain she has for Lakan and it was an observation I really liked. I did find it interesting how often this novel specifically had Maomao referring people to Luomen, and there were more than few times where she refers back to Luomen when thinking of what to do (or what not to do). I didn't know why these details stood out to me, but I like the direction the YT reactors went given that this entire book is basically about Maomao's parentage and family - but throughout it all, we get to see who she really thinks of as her family, which is Luomen and her sisters + granny at the Verdigris House.

Anyway, I am ending my thoughts here because the next few chapters pack a lot of punch and would make this post way too long. I think given where I'm stopping now, we can assume this novel will be broken up into 4 parts, if not 5. We'll see how many thoughts I have!

Hope you enjoyed the first part and part 2 will be coming soon!

[sky-is-the-limit]

Hi! I'm here with some quotes and links of interviews Ryan did.

Me personally I find this one the most interesting, the usage of "partner" and "themselves" is a big contrast to the way he was talking about Eddie even just a few weeks ago when he was using the word "hetero" several times in a sentence.

"Coming into Season 8, I would love to have Eddie explore more of what he just started in this deconstruction of what love is and find a little bit more self-love for himself, to understand that I got to move past what I thought Shannon and I were going to be, and I got to fall in love with who I am right now, and soon as I do that, then the partner that's meant for me will find themselves and find me at the same time."

Link: https://collider.com/9-1-1-season-7-finale-ryan-guzman/

Another quote from this same article:

"I think the self-love realm is something interesting for me, giving him, maybe in Season 8, the opportunity to really understand himself better and fall in love with himself and, not in a selfish way, but understand his qualities of value. That way, maybe in Season 9, he's able to really live a fulfilled life and showcase a new version of himself that Christopher can actually lean on in a safer and healthier way. I think that that entails a lot of destroying Eddie. Because, again, you can't build on a shaky foundation, so you have to destroy that foundation and rebuild, and that's a painful process in itself. If you've never been the one to really engage in that area, it's not going to be fun. And for Eddie, it's going to be… I know how to lean on certain individuals in the 118, but now Cap's not here, and Buck can't really help me with the situation. How do I handle this myself? What have I learned, and how can I apply this?"

Then from this article I have a pretty long quote: https://remezcla.com/features/film/interview-9-1-1-ryan-guzman-talks-eddies-heartbreaking-loss-whats-coming-for-him-in-season-8/

"For Eddie, though, this is in no way permanent. He wants Christopher back with his family, which includes the whole of the 118. And perhaps, at this point, Eddie is finally done with trying to fill the hole Shannon left. “I mean, the title of mom was already given to Shannon and there’s nobody that can take that title from her. Eddie in previous relationships was trying to fill in the title of mom. And then he realized that that title had already been taken. So now he’s looking for something brand new and it’s more for himself.

When it comes to his relationship with his best friend, Buck, and the role he takes in the finale helping Eddie when things get rough, Guzman shared that “they’ve leaned on each other so well and they’ve showcased what I believe is an incredible opportunity for a lot of people in the world, especially men, to lean on someone and be vulnerable.” “A man’s struggle of harnessing his emotions and having to just kind of push past them, that is very specific to us men. So, it would be advantageous for all of us to understand that. And with Buck being a relatively new entity in Eddie’s life starting six years ago, he’s been able to understand what it would have felt like if he’d had this person who’s always been there for him no matter what and loves his kid just as much as he does. "

“It is just family. So, I’m glad it gives everybody that sense of familyhood. But now I see that Eddie has leaned on Buck so much that people are like… well, I mean, whatever they create is what they create.” We don’t mention the Buddie-shaped elephant in the room, because this is an Eddie Diaz interview. But Guzman acknowledges it with a smile after this comment. He understands it’s a living and breathing thing."

Both of these are from after the finale, you're free to interpret what is said however you want

Bless you, love!! This is what I asked for 😭

To my understanding (maybe I'm wrong, correct me.) This is a professional, compassionate actor who wants the best for his character and wants to leave the details to the writers (as it is not up to him to decide how the story will develop.)

He cannot spoil or predict what will eventually happen, so he is commenting on what his character is currently going through *which is what I think some people misinterpret as him denying any possibilities of said ship becoming canon*

(I say this because they don't provide any sources for their claims that Ryan said this and that etc)

I'll study this more in depth cause I'm really interested in what the actors think. Thank you for providing actual information, I appreciate you <3

[writeblrgarden]

PLANT GROWERS - MEET THE WINNERS - TARI

Meet Tari, who got third place in our grow a plant event in november! Tari goes by she/her, and you can find her at @mxxnlightwriting. She wrote her first story when she was six, and has been writing with the goal of publishing since 2020. She writes romance and fantasy, along with dabbling in a few other genres.

Tell us about the WIP you'd like to talk about today.

The WIP is "A Spark of Magic" a YA Urban Fantasy novel (the first in a series!) Isaac has turned into a merfolk and that puts everything in his life in jeopardy. To try and fix this predicament he asks Alice for help, someone he believes to be a witch based on a rumour he heard. He's right that she's a witch, but what he doesn't know is that she can't summon her magic. What starts as an unlikely partnership turns into something more as every answer they seek seems out of reach and the secrets they encounter make it hard for them to trust anyone, including each other.

Describe your writing process. Do you like to plan everything or are you more spontaneous?

I am more spontaneous, but my process changes depending on my writing project. Sometimes, I have a scene, a couple of characters, a small playlist for vibes and I just go for it. In those cases, I discover my story along the way, and through subsequent drafts, I work to make it cohesive and the best it can be. Some require more planning, and in those cases, I tend to outline the vast majority of the story, but there's always something that even I, as the writer, don't know from the start.

What have you found to be the most challenging and/or rewarding about writing?

I think writing can be a lonely endeavor, especially when you don't have writer friends to help you keep motivated. It's also challenging because more often than not, only you know your story and its characters and world, and translating that from your mind to the page can be hard, especially when you're a perfectionist. On the flip side, there's nothing better than finishing a WIP. Writing "The End" on a draft is always incredible. No matter how many times I do it, it always feels like the first time. It's the culmination of so many hours of work, of meeting characters and watching their journey from start to finish, of writing their story. It that feeling of "You've done it", you know? And no one can ever take that achievement from you.

Below the read more is more of our conversation with Tari, along with a link to pre-order her novel now!

What inspires you to write?

People. Loneliness. I want to write stories to keep people company, to be there for them when they feel like no one is. Mostly, I write stories because it's the only way I know how to live. They've been an integral part of my life for so long that I would be incomplete without it.

Share some advice for other writers.

Just keep writing! Never look down at your own work, always look at it from an inquisitive lense. Look at how far you've come, at how much you have improved. Be fascinated by your previous work and know that it's the foundation for the writer you are today. You will always be improving, so celebrate that, even when it's hard. On that same note, never put down your work when sharing it with others. That will have them create expectations of your work before they get to enjoy it. Present it as a blank canvas and let people create their opinions of it, good or bad, but always remember that it is your story. Make it the best it can be for you, not for others.

What do consider your writing strength?

I'd say dialogue is my strength as well as character building! With dialogue is great to go over everyone's speech patterns and see what kind of words they would use and how they would chat with others (and notice how that changes depending on the character they're interacting with), which also influences character building.

What has been the nicest compliment you've received or what has been the toughest criticism you've received?

Whenever people say they were moved by my writing that always feels like the greatest compliment. As for the toughest criticism, as a perfectionist, I am my toughest critic.

What do you love the most about writing?

The entire process of falling in love with a new idea and making it the best it can possibly be. Nothing will ever make me as happy as when I have a random idea that consumes my entire existence and demands to be brought to life. Sometimes, it's not you who chooses the story. Sometimes, it's the story that chooses you.

✨ Tari's novel, A Spark of Magic, is available for pre-order now! Check out the information on her post here.

[hurremsultanns]

To robbery, slaughter, plunder, they give the lying name of empire; they make a solitude and call it peace. (Tacitus' Agricola. Trans. Alfred John Church and William Jackson Brodribb)

The fundamental issue that I have with the take that 'Süleyman is the whole system' is the implication inherent to that statement that a new Sultan or a new person in charge would change the system in the ways that caused the conflict of the show to begin with (inequality, oppression, systemic abuse in the harem, slavery, and even the fratricide law) is simply not the case.

It is incredibly unlikely after all that Mustafa would have been able to meaningfully do anything about the fratricide law. Especially considering the influence that the Divan, the janissaries and his mother would have had. As the Divan and the janissaries are unlikely to have agreed to a reform that got rid of a law that had existed to ensure the stability of the succession. Meanwhile Mahidevran is very unlikely to have accepted something that put her sons reign in any kind of jeopardy, which from her perspective keeping Mustafa's brothers alive absolutely would have done. And he didn't really challenge the structures of the system in any other way either. As much as playing up the idea of a happy ending does serve to emphasise the tragedy of what happens, it is also important to acknowledge that that happy ending would have almost certainly not happened. And not only that but the idea that the şehzade whose closest ally is Barbarossa, who fights for the empire and kidnaps and trafficks women, stands against the system in any meaningful way shows such a narrow perspective on what the system actually is. Especially considering that Barbarossa is the one character who could be said to link the conquests of empire to the abuses in the harem if you try to apply a deeper framing than the one that the show actually provides. He more than anyone else shows that this whole system is build on trauma and tragedy. And this man is Mustafa's closest ally and father in law. And through him there is a continuation between the abuses within the harem and the abuses without. Although I acknowledge that I am putting a lot more thought into this than the MC writers did, who just made Barbarossa an uncomplicated hero.

I would argue that Logan Roy is fairly comparable in terms of his relationship to the system that he represents to Süleyman. Both men are essentially monarchs of powerful empires. Süleyman's is a territorial empire (the Ottoman empire) and Logan's is a business and media empire (Waystar Royco). And both are emblematic of those systems in many ways. Süleyman after all is by far the most powerful person in the Ottoman empire and is the one with the most defining input on the outcome of the succession struggle. As various characters point out, particularly throughout season 4. So much more depends on him than on any other character. And Logan's toxicity is the foundation of the toxicity of Waystar. He spreads that toxicity into his family, his empire and to the world at large. As Kendall notes in his denunciation of him at the end of season 2 and as Ewan reflects in his eulogy at Logan's funeral. This can be compared to the analysis I made in the previous paragraph of how the toxic system that Süleyman represents can be seen in the harem but also extends so much further encompassing the empire as a whole. However, as individuals they are not the system. Logan's death doesn't make Waystar any better and none of Süleyman's sons would have meaningfully made the system they had been trying to survive better. After all, Kendall as CEO doesn't make anything better. Rather he follows in Logan's footsteps for all the criticisms he made of his father and all of his claims in the first 3 seasons of being better than him. And a continuation of that generational trauma as 'the poison drips through' feels unfortunately far more realistic (as to be fair Succession is a prestige drama series where Magnificent Century is a soap) than the idealised happy ending of Mustafa taking power and solving everything. Especially within the universe of MC where the Damocles' sword of the fratricide law is hanging over every single şehzade and whoever took power would have had very few options besides 'letting the poison drip through'. Which is particularly noteworthy for the şehzade whose closest ally was a war criminal who trafficked women.

Fundamentally Succession as a prestige drama has a far more deep and nuanced take on its modern version of a court political drama than a soap like Magnificent Century can be expected to. So can we just acknowledge that the politics of MC are flawed and not that deep? And above all the fact that a good person cannot run Waystar Royco.

[ihni]

Bookmark recs (part 2), tagging game!

Second part of a jumbled-together tagging game. The last part was all Stranger Things fics, this one is gonna be NON-Stranger Things fics.

Rules (more like guidelines really): Pick (at least) ten fics from your AO3 bookmarks, and post them with links and a note of why you like them or why you picked them (alt. your bookmark comment). Then, as tradition goes, tag ten people. Or something, whatever, I'm not your boss.

Here goes!

A Nice Young Man by RobinLorin (6,9K, The Musketeers, Aramis & Constance Bonacieux) My notes: The one with the fake-date. The one with the deadbeat fake boyfriend from a Craigslist ad.

Bits and Pieces by Asidian (8K, Rise of the Guardians, Jack Frost etc) My notes: The one where Jack doesn't eat and there is a misunderstanding and guilt, and prettily written.

War and Peace In Mind by Jaune_Chat (@jaune-chat) (334K, Sky High, Warren/OC) My notes: The Sky High one. THE one.

This, You Protect by owlet (64K, Marvel, Bucky & Steve) My notes: The one where Bucky's regaining SELF and his mission is to PROTECT ROGERS. The one with the Olds. The one with Building as the most awesome mission assist ever.

Petey and Wade and other being punched in the face things by isaDanCurtisproduction (@isadancurtisproduction) (262K, series, Marvel, Spider-Man/Deadpool) My notes (for the third installment only, but I really can't recommend the whole series enough!): The one where Peter Parker is with Deadpool, but Spiderman is trying to ruin it. What?? The one with the gorgeous misunderstandings.

Sideways and Slantways and Longways and Backways by hologramophone (7,7K, Teen Wolf, Derek/Stiles) My notes: The one where Derek's the boss and Stiles doesn't know it. The one in the elevator! :D

Prince Among Wolves by Wrenegade (101K, Teen Wolf, Derek/Stiles) My notes: The one with Ollie and Andy and Stiles taking care of them when Derek doesn't know how to. The kid-fic that makes my heart melt.

Grievance by PeaceHeather (92K, Marvel, Loki etc) My notes: The one where Tyr takes Loki in and gives him a safe haven. The one with the lips sewn shut and the deception. The hopeful one.

The Criminal Keeper, an Origin Story by town_without_heart (11K, The Flash, Barry/Mick/Leonard) My notes: The one where Barry works for the Wishing Well Foundation and someone wants to meet Captain Cold. The one where he becomes the Criminal Keeper. The one with the tiny apartment and boyfriends? and where Mick wants his cuddles damnit.

Always Glad You Came by aloneintherain (13K, Marvel, Peter Parker/Johnny Storm) My notes: The one where Flame-Brain likes Spidey, and Spidey likes him, but The Four don't like it because they think Spidey's an adult. Which he isn't. The one with the misunderstandings and the necklace of bruises at breakfast. The one where they are SO GODDAMN CUTE.

Mountains and Badgermolehills by Glass_Onion (142K, Avatar: The Last Airbender, Sokka & Zuko) My notes: The one where Zuko and Sokka are both captIves and don't know who the other is, but make kinda friends, and then escapes together.

Salvage by MuffinLance (127K, Avatar: The Last Airbender, Zuko & Water Tribe People) My notes: The one where Zuko falls overboard and is saved (or captured) by Chief Hakoda's crew. The one where they slowly learn to like him, where he slowly learns to trust them, and where he's slowly adopted into a new family.

Tagging: ... I suck at tagging, so feel free to NOT do this but @elysiumwaits (I SAW YOU LIKE THAT OTHER POST XD), @jaune-chat, @platypanthewriter, @peaceheather, @maun3t, @artzeppo, @king-steeb, @dream-about-dancing, @adelacreations and as usual, anyone who wants to do it! I just picked random people from my notifications honestly :p (Also this is totally low-key and voluntary and just for fun, so feel free to ignore it!)

[sapphireginger]

You Left Me

Summary:

A house needed a foundation to build on and so did their pack but by the time Stiles got the pack to listen, they all blamed him. He didn’t understand why but during one pack meeting they pointed out how all of their problems somehow connected to Stiles. Stiles panicked because in truth he was the one who saved them time and time again. So how was he at fault?

AO3 Link

Stiles didn’t know where he was going as he ran through the forest. All he knew was he couldn’t go back. Home wasn’t home anymore as evidenced by the way his friends couldn’t stand to look at him. He thought he could stay and ignore how they avoided him, but he gave up after a week. The final straw, the reason behind him running through the forest, was a fight with Scott. He felt tears stream down his cheeks as he thought back on the conversation they had less than an hour ago.

✠ 🐾 ✠

“I don’t know what more you want from me Scott!” he shouted.

“I don't want anything from you. I don’t want you around,” Scott shouted back.

Stiles froze and his eyes narrowed. “Seriously? I haven’t done anything wrong. I defended myself. You know that, and I’ve already resigned myself to being ignored by all of you. I don’t know what else you want me to do.”

“You can leave. You can stop filling the halls with the scent of sadness and hurt. You brought this on yourself. You’re not allowed to walk the halls trying to make us feel bad for wanting nothing to do with you. This is all your fault. You can’t blame us for defending ourselves from you. I mean we know what happened to Allison and then Donovan. Who’s to say Lydia’s not next? Or Isaac? Or Danny? Or Jackson? It’s like the Nogitsune never left!” Scott yelled with a growl.

“Allison wasn’t my fault, Scott. That was all him. I fought—”

Scott snarled. “Don’t lie, Stiles. You killed her and you loved it. Stop using him as an excuse for how fucked up you are! Leave! If I see you again after tonight, I will kill you,” he spat.

Stiles felt his heart shatter. When he looked up again and saw that Scott was serious, he turned and ran.

✠ 🐾 ✠

The blood pounding in his ears snapped him back to the present. His shirt was soaked through from the downpour. It was late into the night and he didn’t know where to go or what to do. Why should he keep going? His dad intercepted a robber while he was off duty one night and was killed. His dad was dead and he had nothing and no one left.

Beacon Hills had been Stiles’s only home since he was born. It was eighteen, almost nineteen, years later and that was still the case. Through all the clashes with various supernatural beings over the years their small pack stayed strong but it was also fractured. Stiles did his best to mend the cracks in the foundation but it was almost impossible when they didn’t have one to begin with.

A house needed a foundation to build on and so did their pack but by the time Stiles got the pack to listen, they all blamed him. He didn’t understand why but during one pack meeting they pointed out how all of their problems somehow connected to Stiles. Stiles panicked because in truth he was the one who saved them time and time again. So how was he at fault?

Everyone had ignored him for some fault they found in him. Stiles knew their reasons were meritless, but it hurt so bad. He stopped caring. When he tripped on a root and crashed to the ground he didn’t bother even getting up. He just laid on the ground letting the tears stream down his face. He was so tired. He was tired of being alone, ignored, blamed, and a part of him was tired of living. It was a downhill slide from then on. Stiles closed his eyes, curled up into a ball on the forest floor and drifted off.

⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂⠂⠄⠄⠂

He woke with a start, his eyes wide as he tried to get his bearings. He wasn’t outside anymore and he looked down to see himself in dry clothes. He wondered how that happened as he looked around the space he found himself in. It seemed like a small cabin but he didn’t remember any cabins in the forest, and he would remember if there had been one because he’d grown up exploring every inch of it. He rubbed his eyes and blinked several times but the scenery didn’t change.

He looked at his hands and counted. 1, 2, 3…all the way up to 10 to prove to himself that he was indeed awake. He was cold and pulled the blanket closer around him. Wait! He looked at the blanket and then took a deep breath in through his nose. When the scent filled his nostrils it threw him into a pile of memories.

✠ 🐾 ✠

“Mischief!” a boy called out to him.

Stiles beamed and hurried over. “Hi, Theodorable!” he said giggling.

✠ 🐾 ✠

“Mischief? Did you ask your mom?”

Stiles nodded and held up a sleeping bag. “She said we can sleep in the tree house!”

✠ 🐾 ✠

“Happy Birthday dear Mischiefffffff! Happy Birthday to you!” Theo laughed and handed Stiles his gift.

Stiles gasped and squealed. “How’d you get his autograph?!” He threw himself at Theo and beamed.

✠ 🐾 ✠

“Don’t worry, Theo! I brought all your favorites. Movie night is on!” Stiles cheered

Theo curled up under the blanket. “You’re the best, Mischief.”

✠ 🐾 ✠

“Hello?” Stiles said quietly as he entered the house. He looked around at the now empty building. His breath caught and he teared up. “No! Where’d you go?” he cried out before searching the entire house, finding no one and nothing. He went outside and collapsed on the porch steps sniffling. “Theo.”

✠ 🐾 ✠

Stiles’s eyes snapped open and he looked around again. “Theo?” he whispered.

“Hey, Mischief,” a voice to his right said quietly.

Stiles whipped his head in the direction of the voice and came face to face with a guy his age. He was gorgeous and Stiles blushed lightly taking in the blonde hair, blue eyes, chiseled jawline (unlike Scott’s crooked one), and the smile. “H-Hi,” he replied quietly. He was struggling to hold back tears when he heard his childhood nickname spoken for the first time in years. Only his mother and Theo had been allowed to call him Mischief. Stiles didn’t realize how much he missed hearing that name.

Theo gestured to the couch. “May I sit?”

Stiles nodded and went to move his feet but Theo simply lifted them, sat down, and let them rest on his lap.

“You had me worried.” Stiles quirked an eyebrow and Theo continued. “I found you. Your lips were blue and when I touched you, you were so cold. I did my best to warm you up but I was scared I’d lost you,” he whispered and started rubbing small circles on Stiles‘s ankle with his thumb.

Stiles melted at the touch and looked down. “I’m sorry,” he said quietly. “I just had to leave. I guess if dying was truly my goal, I could’ve just stayed and let him kill me.”

Theo growled low at that but with a bemused look from Stiles, he cleared his throat. “Who?”

“Scott,” Stiles replied in barely a whisper.

Theo didn’t stop his growl this time. “He threatened you?”

Stiles nodded.

“Why?”

Stiles shook his head. “It doesn’t matter. Let’s just say I can’t go home anymore. Once I’m warmed up, I’ll get out of your hair too.”

Theo frowned and shook his head. “No. You’re not bothering me and I wouldn’t have brought you here if I wanted you to disappear.”

“But you disappearing is just fine?” Stiles asked, meeting Theo’s gaze.

“I—” Theo started but sighed. He swallowed thickly, struggling to speak with the lump of emotion lodged in his throat. “I didn’t want to leave. I was forced to. They threatened you. So, I left, but I kept an eye on you as best I could. Once I was old enough to deal with them myself, I did so.”

“Really?”

Theo nodded. “There was nothing that would ever stop me from coming back to you. I can back to you, came back for you, Bambi. I’m here.”

“Now you’re here?”

Theo nodded and met Stiles’s gaze with utmost sincerity. “I’m here.”

Stiles tilted his head, his fingers fidgeting with the edge of the blanket. “For how long?”

“As long as you want me here.”

“So, forever?”

“Is that what you want?”

Stiles swallowed and nodded before averting his gaze. “Yeah,” he admitted in barely a whisper.

Theo moved closer, his hand sliding up to grip Stiles’s thigh, the touch grounding them both. “Then I’ll never leave you again.”

“Never?”

“Never ever.”

“Promise?” Stiles inquired, leaning closer, unaware he was doing so but not pulling back nonetheless.

Theo shook his head, stopping just short of kissing the amber eyed man. “I promise.”

Stiles closed the remaining distance between their lips and sighed into the kiss, finally finding what had been missing all these years and vowing to never let go of Theo, to never let go of his happiness, ever again.

[saintmeghanmarkle]

A tale of two brands: Beckham vs Sussex by u/Mickleborough

A tale of two brands: Beckham vs Sussex It seems to be open season on the Sussexes. And unlike normal hunting season, there’s no end date.The Telegraph has a piece about what the Sussexes can learn from the Beckhams, in terms of establishing themselves successfully in the US: archived / unarchived.Basically both are (cough) young couples (David‘s 48; Victoria‘s 49; Harry’s a baby at 38; Meghan’s a comparative spring chicken at 41). Both left the U.K. to establish themselves in the US. And where are they now?The Beckhams live in a $23m penthouse in Miami. The football / soccer team that David co-owns is now worth $600m, after starting out 3 years ago. Both are seen as having goals in life: David to build up his Inter Miami team; Victoria her fashion and beauty lines. People who’ve known them said that both have determination: consequently their growth has been ‘organic, natural, and above all, authentic’.Compare that with the Sussexes. They lost the Spotify contract after just 1 season, in the most public and humiliating way (being called grifters and talentless - by 2 separate powers in the business - isn’t a positive). No one‘s holding their breath about what they’ll do for Netflix. The article states that the success of Spare proves that the public are interested in their royal connections - not in themselves.The Beckhams have been working on their businesses for decades. The Sussexes have yet to find their USP (unique selling point) - which currently seems to be ‘a finite story that appears to be running out of road for their American audience’.A PR guru observes that the Beckhams use their platform ‘for good and not in a virtue-signalling way’. Compare this to the Sussexes, who ‘haven’t actually earned their stripes; what have they actually done? What have they brought into the US economy?’Another observes that the Sussexes lack the ‘humility’ of the Beckhams: ‘David is a goodwill ambassador for UNICEF and has used his star power to do good work. But he never tried to eclipse that charity, whereas by contrast, the Archewell Foundation feels a bit of a personal flex as much as it’s a fundraiser. ‘The Beckhams, despite their wealth, are often pictured leading relatively normal lives, David buys his lunch from a popular, affordable Miami eatery and queues for coffee at neighbourhood joints. He also stood in line for 13 hours to pay his respects to the late Queen. The Sussexes, on the other hand, are closeted in Montecito (allegedly) and ask for lifts on Air Force One - not at all relatable.Another says that the Beckhams embody the American dream. ‘The Beckhams combine clear talent and prodigious hard work. In contracts the Sussexes exude entitlement in a very un-American way. That’s the ironic thing, because one of them is American!’Good humour goes a long way. Victoria has a good sense of humour and uses it to her advantage, cf ‘People like Meghan, who try to control the narrative and only present themselves in a perfect light, tend to forget that the public warms to a humour and the ability to show a flaw.’There’s the issue of family values. The Beckhams have been pictured with their children and extended family ‘while Harry, as we know, exposed a lot of family secrets. They’re now estranged from most relatives on both sides and this doesn’t play well.’To end: ’The Beckhams certainly live well, which Americans expect and admire, but they also spend their own money, and that is key. They’re not scrounges and they never have been.’ post link: https://ift.tt/Z9b1dwf author: Mickleborough submitted: July 30, 2023 at 08:09PM via SaintMeghanMarkle on Reddit

[r-2-peepoo]

Obviously for Codywan: 6 and its cousin 17 🥹

These ones were more challenging than the last ones but still a lot of fun to think about

(Link to the OTP Relationship Asks)

6. When did they realize they loved each other?

I wish I was familiar enough with all the arcs in Clone Wars to be exact but here is my best answer.

I will say Cody needed much longer to figure it out but I think he would’ve first opened up to the possibility of something deeper when he got his scar. This is obviously a complete headcanon, but I believe Obi Wan would’ve checked up on him to make sure he was okay after he received medical attention. I don’t believe there’s a canon explanation for his scar (maybe there’s something in Legends) but it had to be early in the war. Head wounds bleed a lot and Cody’s scar is pretty big, meaning something really bad would’ve had to happen. It really throws Obi Wan off, way more than he expects it to. When he saw the injury, even though he could still feel Cody in the force, he thought he was close to death because there was so much blood. Since he doesn’t have much time for friends who aren’t Jedi (and the ones he has he barely gets to see), Cody represents something very unique and important in his life because he speaks to him nearly every day. He goes to see Cody and they have a genuine, off-duty conversation and Obi Wan is visibly shaken, which catches Cody's attention even with all the painkillers he's on. If this was a video game, this would be the time when Obi Wan levels up and unlocks the path toward real friendship (and maybe something deeper) with Cody. The genuine care he has shown him, not just for him as a soldier but as a person causes Cody to reevaluate some things. He already genuinely liked Obi Wan. The Jedi has more than earned his trust. But now he’s like “Okay, this guy took time out of his day to come and see if I was alright because he wanted to. It wasn’t a matter of duty. He, personally, was worried so to soothe that worry, he went out of his way to come and check on me.” Cody figures out he really means something to Obi Wan and that’s a weird sort of feeling since he has only ever had his brothers to look out for him. He sees the man behind the titles and that man looks way more vulnerable than he expected him to and it really makes Cody begin to feel something new for him. It's a feeling he doesn't quite understand yet though.

As for when Cody actually realises, I think it would be after an arc like the Battle of Umbara. A moment in the war where there are a lot of clone casualties. Cody comes off as a very serious, stoic person but it doesn’t mean he actually is. That’s just how he presents himself. But even if he was, one person can only take so much. He would take all the casualties much harder than normal. It would’ve been building up for a while and then this latest tragedy in a long line would finally cause him to snap (of course Cody snapping is vastly different from most people because he still largely has his shit together).

Of course, Obi Wan is no stranger to loss. He doesn’t want to risk comparing their experiences, but he does come to see Cody. They don’t talk immediately. He just sits with him so he isn’t alone. 

After a while, Cody tells him he’s not sure how much more of it he can take. Obi Wan has no idea how he manages it. Losing Qui Gon was bad enough for him. He can’t imagine what it would be like for him to lose more of the Jedi. Don’t worry dude you’ll find out pretty soon.

Instead, he starts to tell Cody about what the Jedi believe about loss. It isn’t a lesson. He isn’t preaching at him. He’s just trying to share part of his life with a man he deeply cares about. Cody knows that. Obi Wan tells him that from the very beginning of their training, the Jedi masters reiterate over and over that the force flows through everything. It’s the foundation of the entire Jedi religion. The force is the only constant in the universe. To the Jedi, there is no death. You can’t ever really die, you just become one with the force. Cody asks him if he really believes that, or if it actually makes him feel better. Obi Wan answers that he knows it’s the truth. If he closes his eyes and focuses hard enough, sometimes he thinks he can still feel Qui Gon’s presence in the force. He’s not entirely sure how much of it is real and how much of it’s in his head though. On bad days, it doesn’t make him feel better. It still hurts that he’s gone, but when he’s able to think more rationally, it can be quite reassuring. He just tries to live his life in a way that he hopes honours Qui Gon and he tells Cody that’s what he does every day. There’s a reason why his brothers look up to him so much. There’s a reason why he was made commander so quickly. They listen to him and they trust him to look out for them, so just by being himself, he honours their memory. He also says he knows Cody can’t feel the force, but when he first came to Kamino, he was struck by just how brightly he and all his brothers shine in the force. It’s proof they’re alive, no matter what anyone in the senate says, and the force has a place for them too. They aren’t an exception and they won’t be left behind. 

I know Mando’a is used a lot in fics, but realistically I don’t think Jango would’ve cared to spend enough time with the clones for them to pick up some of his language. I love the fics that do it, but going with the idea that they don’t understand Mando’a, I think Obi Wan would go on to talk about what he knows about Mandalorian culture because he truly believes its relevant to the clones and that they should be allowed to have some sort of connection to it because they came from a Mandalorian. Over the years, he’s learned a lot and has picked up different pieces of the language but there’s one phrase that stuck with him. It’s a phrase you’ve probably seen used in fanfiction before. 

"Nu kyr'adyc, shi taab'echaaj'la "

"Not gone, merely marching far away"

He tells Cody he secretly likes this idea more than the idea of becoming one with the force, although he definitely shouldn’t. It feels somewhat like a betrayal of his ideals but the idea that all the people they lost aren’t gone forever, but are just marching ahead of them, brings him a lot more comfort. Maybe they can catch up with them eventually. He also points out that these two concepts are different but both go with the idea that death isn’t the end. With so many different cultures and religions across the Galaxy sharing this idea of there being something more than just this one life, they can’t all be wrong. It stands to reason that, one day, maybe they’ll meet again. 

Cody can read between the lines. Obi Wan isn’t saying this to convince him to get over his grief, he’s sharing the weight of it with him. He’s letting him know that even Jedi struggle with this and that he isn’t alone. That to grieve is to be alive and that in order to feel grief, you have to have felt love first.

He also knows his Jedi well enough to see a little undercurrent of anger in Obi Wan’s words. Cody know what Obi Wan thinks of the clones and how they're treated. He knows he’s angry because the clones aren’t given the time or the resources to mourn their brothers. The Jedi have elaborate funerals and the clones gets nothing. Obi Wan needs Cody to know he’s not alone because he recognises that the rest of the galaxy is trying to make him feel like he is. He wishes he could give Cody some kind of justice. Cody knows he can’t and he doesn’t blame him. The Jedi had almost as little choice in being part of the war as the clones did.

It’s during this conversation that Cody realises he loves him. How could he not? It’s sort of his “fuck it” moment where he stops suppressing the feelings he obviously has because Obi Wan is trying so hard to be there for him. It’s a little overwhelming, if he’s being honest, because people do not take the time to say things like this to him. Obi Wan isn’t saying the things he’s saying to do anything other than reach out to him and hold onto him so he doesn’t get lost in his feelings (something that very nearly happened to him when he lost Qui Gon) and Cody loves him. After that point, there’s nothing he can do to avoid thinking about it. He loves him so much and he’s never loved anyone like this before in his entire life and he isn’t sure what to do with all that love. He loves Obi Wan because he earned his love so many times. Cody just hopes the Jedi can't feel how strong his feelings are. (Spoiler alert: he can.)

As for when Obi Wan realises, it would be something so small. Something really trivial that would make him realise. 

Cody and Obi Wan get into an habit of doing paperwork together. They don’t need to talk to each other, it’s just to have the company. At one point, probably quite late at night, Cody started grumbling about how illegible Rex’s reports from the latest mission they were on together are. Rex is a fantastic soldier but his ability at filling in forms is catastrophic. Obi Wan just watches him get more and more frustrated and that’s when he realises that he could fill out boring paperwork with this man forever. In fact, he hopes he gets to, even after the war is over. Doing dull things with him is the part of his day he looks forward to the most. It’s grounding. Cody balances him out perfectly. They are just similar enough and just different enough that, when they have time together where they aren’t being shot at by droids or attacked by Separatists, Obi Wan feels so calm. He rarely gets to feel like that in his life. Cody is the only one who can evoke the feeling. The beauty of their relationship is in the little moments and that's when he knows.

17. Who fell in love first?

Definitely Obi Wan. I think Cody had feelings way earlier than most people think he did, but he needed longer to figure out what it was he was feeling. Obi Wan knew almost immediately though because it’s not the first time he’s felt this way. I will never ever downplay Satine’s importance in Obi Wan’s life and what Obi felt for her and what he feels for Cody are equally important but very different. Satine was his first love and so it was very strong feelings combined with a lot of guilt. He was still coming to terms with his identity and his place in the Jedi order. With Cody, he’s had time to grow up and learn to process these things better and also not be so hard on himself. There’s something quieter about their love too. It's just as strong, but there’s simultaneously something much calmer about it. I also wholeheartedly believe this man is a hopeless romantic, he just can’t act on his feelings because he’s a Jedi so they’re like stories in his head he can use to escape from reality for a while if he needs to. It’s like his happy place. He imagines all the things he’d do with Cody if there wasn’t a stupid war in the way and he didn’t have any responsibilities. And they aren’t impossible fantasies or anything. The feelings between them are mutual. There’s a chance one day when the war is over, maybe just maybe they could find a way to make it work. If anyone could do it, it would be them. It's an idea Obi Wan holds very close to his heart when he feels run down or lost. The hope there is for the future, a future that Cody definitely has a place in if it's what he wants. The war has changed the Jedi order permanently anyway. Obi Wan wonders what else could change and what possibilities it could lead to.