#and i for one am glad that i understood the humor

[0scarp1astr1]

 ˖ 𐔌 𝐃𝐚𝐝 𝐓𝐨 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐑𝐞𝐬𝐜𝐮𝐞࿐ .

۫જ⁀➴ Desc: || Max and you always planned the best birthday parties for your daughter, Sofie. But, with the weight of her not having friends and a birthday going wrong. Max is willing to step in and make everything right. ||

ᯓ★ (Dad) Max Verstappen x Fem! (Mom) Reader

ᯓ★ 3x Genre: Fluff, Humor, (bit) of angst

ᯓ★ Warning: Minor bullying, and of course, an angry dad Max.

ᯓ★ Requested? No

Author Note: Here is some Max dad fluff, I am glad that some people are enjoying the dad writing so far. I do plan to create dad fics for most of the drivers, just cause parenthood on them is actually cute. Remember, my requests are open, as well as my messages!

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If someone had told you years ago that you’d one day be Mrs. Verstappen, you would’ve laughed so hard tears welled in your eyes. You would have denied it with every fiber of your being, maybe even swore on your career that it would never happen. And yet, here you were.

You remember the first time you saw him clearly—Max Verstappen, standing off to the side of the Red Bull garage, jaw tight, his face carved in frustration. It was post-qualifying, and something had gone horribly wrong. You hadn’t needed to check the screens to know—his muttering, the way his hand combed aggressively through his hair, and the sharp glares toward the engineering team told you everything. He was livid.

You worked for Red Bull Racing, and it wasn’t the first time you’d seen him like that. People tiptoed around him, allowing him space to rant, to burn off the steam like an overheated engine. You gave him that space, too—but not without approaching him with a bottle of water. “Want to throw it at someone or actually drink it?” you asked lightly, eyebrows raised.

His lips curved, just barely. “Both,” he muttered, taking the bottle from you.

And that was the beginning.

It started quietly. Texting. Late-night phone calls. Glances stolen in the chaos of a race weekend. He was intense, unapologetically so, and never cared to soften himself for the sake of perception. But with you, he didn't have to. You learned his language—understood that his silence didn’t mean absence, his anger didn’t mean hatred. He had sharp edges, but he never cut you with them.

Behind closed doors, after draining media days, he’d find you. He’d fall into your arms like he needed you to keep him grounded. “I’m not a bad guy,” he whispered into your hair once, exhausted. “They just… they don’t see me.”

“I do,” you whispered back. “I always do.”

You were his armor. When engineers muttered judgmental remarks, you were swift with your defense. When Jos Verstappen made comments laced with toxic pride or passive disappointment, you stood up taller, redirecting the energy in the room. And when Christian Horner made jokes that crossed the line, you didn't hesitate to call him out. Max didn’t always say it, but it filled him with smug satisfaction. He loved knowing you didn’t fear anyone—not for him.

When he finally asked you out, it was your birthday. You hadn’t expected anything beyond a few wishes from the paddock, maybe a slice of cake from the catering crew. But there he was—waiting outside your flat with the exact cake you mentioned in passing weeks ago.

“Be my girlfriend,” he asked, the moment the candlelight flickered between you two.

You stared at him, stunned. “Seriously?”

He nodded. “I’m not playing games with you. Not when it’s you.”

And from that moment on, he was yours. In private at first, by choice, not shame. The peace of an undisclosed relationship was intoxicating. But all it took was one slip-up in an interview—Max, talking about the importance of his "team," then gesturing at you and proudly adding, “My girlfriend, she’s my team too.” And just like that, the world knew.

He shielded you from the worst of it. He didn’t mind the cameras, the rumors, the headlines—so long as they stayed away from you. You loved him all the more for that.

Then came the proposal—romantic, quiet, over dinner under the Monaco stars. You said yes through tears. He told the whole world, but most importantly, his family. The F1 WAGs pulled you into an emotional celebration, all teary eyes and champagne flutes. You’d found sisters in them. They stood by your side on your wedding day, and eventually, you became Mrs. Verstappen.

Your life together unfolded in Monaco—a haven of love and racing memorabilia. The walls were adorned with trophies, framed pictures, and cat towers. Three cats, each more spoiled than the last. But nothing prepared you for the day you realized there was more than just fur babies in your future.

You were pregnant.

The baby shower was intimate, warm. Charles, Daniel, and Checo argued over who Sofie would call “Uncle” first. They made bets and silly presentations. And when Sofie was born, everything changed.

Max’s world shrank to her. He held her like she was made of stardust, something too delicate to exist. He cried—actual tears—and kissed her forehead with a reverence you’d never seen before.

“She’s so small,” he whispered, eyes wide. “So perfect.”

The protective dad mode kicked in hard. Drivers came to visit with gift baskets and toys—each of them getting a lecture from Max. “Hands washed. Masks on. No sneezing. Touch nothing until instructed.”

Sofie rolled over during tummy time, crawled in your living room, walked across the cat-strewn floor with Max filming and softly cheering. Her birthdays became events of pure magic.

Her first: pastel princess fantasy. Max teared up watching her toddle around in her tiara. Lando caught him. “Are you crying?” he whispered, smirking.

Max sniffled, glaring. “No.”

After the party, when Sofie was asleep, you cleaned confetti off the floor with aching feet and gave Max a tired high five. “Success.”

“Always,” he said, brushing a kiss to your temple.

Her second: unicorns. Lando in costume. Carlos wheezing from laughter. “I might hire you in the future,” Carlos told Lando, who was sweltering in glitter and misery.

“Public humiliation,” Lando muttered.

Her third: animals. Of course. Oscar was the zookeeper, Lando a lion again, Fernando a grumpy honorary guest who Sofie insisted on including. You snapped photos of it all—blackmail, surely, for future teenage rebellion.

“Drink and movie?” you asked Max that night.

He kissed your knuckles. “Of course, mijn liefste.”

Her fourth: Sesame Street. Daniel was Cookie Monster by force. “She likes him,” Max offered, stealing a cupcake.

“She’s my niece. That’s the only reason I’m doing this,” Daniel muttered, swiping frosting off his suit.

Lewis wandered in. “Have you seen Roscoe?”

“She’s feeding him snacks under the table,” you said casually. “Good luck with that.”

Another successful party. Another sleepy Sofie, surrounded by “uncles” on the floor. Another high five. Another kiss goodnight.

But now… now she was turning five.

And something shifted.

Her dolls? Dusty. Her tiaras? Forgotten. Her plushies? Stuffed in the toy box, untouched.

“She’s changing,” you said one night, sitting beside Max, folding laundry. “She’s not into the princess phase anymore.”

He looked at you, thoughtful. “It’s a phase, schatje. She’s growing. Let her.”

You tried to believe it. But it still stung.

One morning, you served pancakes, placing the final plate down in front of your daughter. She sat across from Max, legs swinging under the table, hair tied up in her favorite pink scrunchie.

“What do you want to do for your birthday this year, lieve?” you asked with a warm smile.

Her eyes lit up. “Race cars! Like Papa’s racing!”

Your hand froze mid-air. You blinked. Max looked up from his coffee, noticing the way your expression faltered.

You smiled softly. “Race cars?”

“Yep!” she grinned. “I wanna drive and be fast and beat everyone like Papa!”

Max reached over, resting a reassuring hand on your thigh under the table. “She’s watching us, schatje.”

You blinked the emotion away, forcing a grin. “Race cars it is.”

She clapped, delighted.

Later that night, when Sofie was asleep, Max pulled you close. “She’s still your baby,” he whispered against your hair.

“I know.” You sniffled. “But she’s not… little anymore.”

He pressed a kiss to your forehead, his voice thick with affection. “No matter how fast she grows, no one replaces you. You’re the one who made this life possible. You gave me everything.”

-ˋˏ✄┈┈┈┈

The next morning unfolded with a calm softness—rare, but welcomed. The skies above Monaco were clear, sunshine glittering off the glass buildings as Max drove through the winding city streets. You sat in the passenger seat, one arm casually resting along the console, the other hand wrapped around your warm coffee. Sofie sat in her car seat behind you, kicking her little legs and rambling excitedly in the way only a child could.

“…and the cupcakes should be chocolate, but also strawberry, and then we can have a race track cake, and Papa can bring his car—just for the party! And balloons, but red, not pink. Pink is for babies, Mama.”

You chuckled, glancing at Max with an amused raise of your brow. “You hear that? No pink. She’s officially too grown up for princess themes.”

Max smirked. “That’s devastating. I was looking forward to wearing another tiara.”

“Please,” you said, laughing. “Last year you wore it better than I did. Checo still has that photo framed.”

Sofie leaned forward, strapped tightly in her booster but determined to be part of the conversation. “Can Jack come too?”

“Jack?” you echoed, glancing back. “Of course, baby. I’ll talk to Toto and Susie. I’m sure they’ll bring him. He wouldn't miss it.”

Sofie squealed in delight, kicking her feet. “Yay! Jack and me are gonna beat everyone on the track!”

You smiled, already picturing the chaos of five-year-olds with tiny karts and an F1 audience cheering them on. You looked at Max, a warmth tugging at your chest. “Tell the drivers to hurry up and have kids. Our daughter needs a whole junior paddock.”

Max laughed. “That’s a dangerous idea.”

You smirked. “Why? Scared of a new generation?”

He made a show of pretending to think. “Oscar and Lily? Too busy being adorable. Yuki… still can’t take care of himself, let alone a baby. Lando? God help us all if he becomes someone’s dad right now.”

You snorted. “Amen.”

“And Fernando?” Max continued. “That man will father a championship before he fathers a child.”

You arched a brow. “And Lewis?”

“Lewis has Roscoe. That’s already a full-time kid,” Max said, glancing at you with a grin. “High maintenance.”

You both laughed until a tiny voice interrupted.

“Mama! Papa!” Sofie called, wriggling in her seat. “Invite my other friends too!”

You twisted to look at her. “Your other friends? You mean the ones at school?”

She shook her head quickly, digging through her little sparkly backpack like it was filled with secrets. With dramatic flair, she pulled out several sealed envelopes—gold stickers keeping them closed—and held them up like treasure.

“My racing friends. My brothers!” she said with a proud little nod.

You blinked, taking the envelopes as she handed them to you one by one. “Brothers?”

And then it clicked.

Kimi Antonelli. Ollie Bearman. Isack Hadjar. Liam Lawson.

They weren’t just names in F2 and F1. They were constants in Sofie’s little universe—regular faces at your table, in your living room, voices that made her light up with pure joy. To her, they weren’t rising stars or young drivers. They were her playmates, protectors, snack thieves, homework buddies—her brothers.

Max glanced at you and you saw the exact same realization cross his face.

“Right,” you said gently, brushing a hand over her knee. “Of course. Me and Papa will invite them, too. They’ll be there, baby.”

Sofie cheered again, eyes wide with excitement, and you felt your chest squeeze. You turned back toward the front as Max stopped at a red light, and for a brief moment, the hum of the world quieted.

“She really loves them,” you murmured.

“They really love her back,” Max replied softly.

You smiled to yourself, already seeing it in your mind—the boys trickling in, older but still so gentle with her. You remembered how Kimi would show up with his homework, slouched in your kitchen chair, pencil in hand while Sofie sat beside him with her toy laptop pretending to help. She called him “Kimi the Smart,” and he never corrected her—even when he barely passed a math test.

Ollie would stop by unannounced, digging through your snack drawer with the kind of hunger only a young driver could justify. “She said I could have cookies,” he’d argue. Sofie would appear from the hallway, arms crossed. “Only if you read me a bedtime story first.” And he always did.

Isack came for the food. Not the snacks—real meals. “It’s better than the paddock,” he always claimed as he helped set the table. He’d let Sofie braid his hair, even though it was barely long enough, and pretend to cry when she tightened it too hard.

Liam was dragged into everything—from tea parties to “driveway grand prix” races with tricycles. Once, he walked into your living room in a full Elsa dress, crown and all, because Sofie had insisted. Max nearly cried laughing. Liam stayed in it the whole afternoon.

They weren’t just boys passing through. They were part of the family you built. They showed up, again and again, not for obligation—but because they wanted to. Because Sofie mattered to them, and maybe, in a strange way, you and Max had created something much larger than a family of three.

You'd created a home that people wanted to come back to.

Max reached over and took your hand as the car rolled forward. “She really is growing up fast, huh?”

You nodded. “Too fast. But I think we’re doing okay.”

He glanced in the mirror at Sofie, who was now humming to herself, staring out the window like she could already see her party coming to life.

“We’re doing better than okay,” he said. “We gave her a team.”

You smiled, leaning back into your seat. “One hell of a team.”

The car rolled gently to a stop in front of Sofie’s school. Max reached over to put it in park, the soft click echoing in the morning hush. In the backseat, Sofie was quiet now, her earlier giggles and chatter about the party giving way to a more withdrawn stillness. She stared out the window, backpack clutched tightly in her lap, the colorful invitations barely peeking out from the front pocket.

You turned around from the front seat, noticing the shift. Her lips were slightly pursed, eyebrows scrunched just a little in thought—something she only did when she was nervous or trying not to cry.

You reached over to open her car door and unbuckle her from the car seat. As you leaned in, she looked at you carefully, her eyes wide.

“So… my brothers are really coming?” she asked softly.

You smiled warmly, smoothing back a wisp of her soft hair. “Yes, baby. I already told you, we’ll invite them today. They’ll be there. Especially Kimi.”

That brought the tiniest spark back to her face. “Tell bubba Kimi to bring Eli, please?” she asked in a small, hopeful voice. “She paints my nails really pretty… like the sparkle kind.”

Max chuckled from the driver’s seat, resting one arm out the window. “You’ve got quite the party committee forming.”

“She’s like a celebrity already,” you said with a soft laugh, grabbing Sofie’s bag. “Red carpet, mani-pedi, guest list.”

Sofie smiled faintly, then turned to Max. “Bye, Papa,” she said, blowing him a kiss.

He caught it with both hands this time, exaggeratedly pressing it to his cheek. “Have fun, sweet girl. Be fast, be kind, be you.”

That earned another small smile. You helped her down from the car, and she immediately reached for your hand, holding it tighter than usual as you began walking her toward the school.

As you entered the familiar hallway, the noise of the morning buzzed around you—shoes squeaking, zippers zipping, the hum of chatter and laughter. And then, a few feet ahead, a group of little girls stood in a loose circle near the classroom door, showing off big pastel bows clipped into their ponytails. Each girl had her own distinct color—lavender, bubblegum pink, sunshine yellow. They giggled, whispering as one showed off her sparkly unicorn clip.

You felt Sofie’s steps slow.

“Those are the girls you told me and Papa about, right? The ones who love unicorns and snacks?” you asked, glancing at them and then down at her.

She hesitated.

Then nodded. “Yeah,” she said quickly. “They’re my best friends.”

Her voice was a little too high-pitched, a little too forced. You didn’t catch it—not fully. You were watching the girls, not her.

You smiled, leaning down to kiss the top of her head. “That’s great, sweetie. Make sure you give them their invitations, okay? They’ll be so excited.”

She didn’t answer, just gave a small nod, her grip on your hand tightening. You walked her the rest of the way to the classroom, where her teacher stood by the door greeting students.

“Good morning!” the teacher beamed.

“Morning!” you greeted in return, then crouched down to meet Sofie at her level. “Alright, soon-to-be birthday girl. I want you to have a really great day, okay? Be your kind, brave, smart self. And remember—don’t let anyone tell you your glitter bow isn’t cool.”

She looked at you for a long moment. And then, without a word, she suddenly threw her arms around your neck, hugging you tight.

So tight it surprised you.

“Oh,” you laughed softly, hugging her back. “Big squeeze!”

But she didn’t let go right away. She stayed there for a few seconds longer, her small frame pressed to yours. You didn’t see the way her face scrunched up, the way she blinked fast, trying to push down the sting in her eyes. You didn’t feel the way her chest trembled just slightly when she pulled away, looking down at the floor as she adjusted her bag on her shoulder.

“Hey,” you whispered gently, brushing your knuckles across her cheek. “You alright?”

She nodded again quickly. “Mhm. I’m okay.”

Her voice wavered, just a little. But then she stepped into the classroom.

You handed the teacher the small stack of extra invitations you had tucked in your purse, just in case. “We’re planning the party this weekend. She’s got quite a list.”

“She’s been talking about it for weeks,” the teacher said with a knowing smile. “Don’t worry, we’ll help her hand them out.”

You smiled in gratitude, stepping aside as another cluster of kids passed by. Out of the corner of your eye, you saw Sofie sit down at her table, setting her bag beside her and slipping an envelope out to place in a cubby. You watched her glance up at the girls with the bows, who were still standing in their circle, whispering. They didn’t even look at her.

But she looked at them.

Just for a second.

Then back down to her desk.

You waved gently. She didn’t see it—her eyes were on her hands now, fidgeting in her lap.

You turned to leave, calling a final soft goodbye before walking back out into the sunlit morning.

Max was leaning on the car now, still nursing his coffee. He looked up as you approached, sensing something.

“All good?” he asked, tossing the empty cup in a nearby bin.

You nodded with a sigh, sliding your sunglasses on. “She hugged me like she was going off to war, but yeah. She’s good.”

“Maybe just nerves,” Max said, unlocking the car. “Party planning pressure.”

“Maybe,” you replied, sliding into your seat.

But even as you said it, a small thought nagged at the back of your mind.

-ˋˏ✄┈┈┈┈

With Sofie dropped off at school, the car ride home was quiet, almost still. You sat beside Max, fingers tapping at a to-do list on your phone, while he drove with one hand on the wheel, the other resting comfortably between you.

“She asked for Eli,” you murmured, glancing over at him.

Max chuckled, the sound low and affectionate. “I heard. Bubba Kimi better show up with a whole salon kit.”

You smiled, heart a little full at the thought of your daughter wanting her "big siblings" at her party—Kimi and his girlfriend Eli included. She had her favorites, and Eli, with her fun nail kits and bright makeup bags, was always welcomed with open arms.

“We’ve got a lot to do before next weekend,” you sighed, leaning back in the seat.

“Which is why we’re seeing Toto and Susie,” Max said, turning the wheel. “Let’s get it done.”

By the time you reached their villa nestled in the Monaco hills, the late morning sun had lit up the soft cream stones of their front terrace. Monaco’s skyline glistened in the distance, but here, everything felt a bit slower, more personal.

Susie greeted you both at the door with that signature warmth of hers. “You’re early,” she teased, stepping back to let you in. “Which means you’re either running from something or planning something.”

“Both,” you joked. “We need help.”

“Breakfast first,” she smiled, already heading back toward the kitchen. “Toto’s in the back garden, sulking over emails and espresso.”

Max gave you a look and smirked. “He’s always in that state.”

You laughed together as you followed her in. The table was set with fresh fruit, flaky croissants, eggs, and plenty of coffee. You hardly got to sit down before Toto appeared through the sliding glass doors, sleeves rolled, sunglasses perched atop his head, holding a small plate of berries.

“Well if it isn’t Monaco’s most stubborn couple,” he said, placing his plate down. “What brings the Verstappens to my home this early?”

“We come with birthday demands,” Max said flatly, settling in with a croissant.

You leaned in. “It’s about Sofie’s party.”

Toto raised a brow, clearly interested.

“She wants a karting theme this year,” you began. “And not the pretend kind, either. She’s serious. She wants a track.”

“And she doesn’t just want to play at racing,” Max added. “She wants to race. Helmets. Flags. Mini podiums.”

Toto leaned back, his expression unreadable. “You know this is Monaco, right? We don’t exactly have open space just lying around.”

“We thought about that,” you said, pulling out your phone. “But we found something.”

You tapped open a photo of a tucked-away private outdoor kart track just outside the main city—close to the water, low-profile, small enough to keep intimate and safe, but polished enough to look impressive.

Toto leaned in. “This is the one near Fontvieille?”

“Yeah,” Max said. “Heard you’ve hosted a few team events there.”

“Private. Gated. Decent track for kids. There’s a viewing deck too,” Toto said, nodding slowly. “It’s not bad.”

“We want it for her birthday,” you said. “The whole afternoon. Preferably media-free, completely private.”

“She wants her friends to race too,” Max added, stealing a strawberry from your plate. “And her 'brothers'—Kimi, Ollie, Isack, Liam. She's got them all on a list.”

“And she specifically asked for Jack,” you added with a knowing smile. “So you and Susie have to come.”

Toto exhaled, but there was no resistance behind it. He leaned forward, resting his elbows on the table. “Alright. I can make the calls. I know the guy who runs it—he owes me a favor or two.”

“See? I told you he still had his Mercedes clout,” Max joked, nudging your knee under the table.

Susie grinned. “You’re lucky we adore that little girl.”

You reached into your bag and pulled out four glittery, slightly crumpled envelopes. “She wanted these delivered personally.”

Toto took them carefully, reading the names: Kimi, Ollie, Isack, Liam.

“She calls them her racing brothers,” Max said, glancing toward the garden.

“And she asked for Eli to come too,” you added. “She loves how she paints her nails and makes her feel grown-up.”

“Eli’s already asking what color she wants,” Susie laughed. “I think she’s going to bring a little kit for all the girls.”

“That’ll make her so happy,” you said, the warmth curling in your chest. “She’s so ready for this birthday. I just want to get it right.”

“You two always do,” Susie said sincerely.

You glanced at Max, who gave you that soft, rare smile—the one only for you, the one he wore when you both shared the silent understanding of just how lucky you were.

Toto stood with a stretch. “I’ll call the track manager today. If all goes well, you’ll have your mini-Monaco Grand Prix ready to go.”

Max clapped his hands together. “Perfect. Now we just need to build a podium.”

“Oh, she’s already asking for trophies,” you said with a laugh. “I may have to get them custom made.”

“I’ll get Jack practicing his wave,” Toto muttered.

You all burst into laughter, the morning filled with more than just plans—it held warmth, community, and the kind of love you couldn’t script if you tried.

As your coffee cup neared empty and the conversation began to slow, you leaned back in your chair, fingers laced loosely over your stomach as you glanced between Toto and Susie.

“Do you guys know if George and Carmen are busy today?” you asked, your tone casual, but already mentally organizing what needed to be done next.

Toto sat back with a thoughtful hum, brushing a crumb off his shirt. “I don’t think so. George mentioned he had the weekend off, and Carmen said something about wanting to check out that new home decor boutique near the harbor, but nothing concrete. Worth texting them.”

You nodded, already reaching for your phone. Before you could tap the screen, you glanced at Max.

“And you,” you said, narrowing your eyes in mock warning, “for once, can you please put whatever unspoken, silly track drama you’ve got with George behind you? Just for Sofie?”

Susie snorted behind her mug, clearly entertained, while Toto chuckled under his breath.

Max raised both hands as if caught red-handed. “I’m not the one who keeps trying to ‘accidentally’ block him during qualifying.”

You raised an eyebrow, unimpressed.

He sighed and leaned forward on his elbows, eyes softening slightly. “Alright. Fine. I’ll behave. It’s about Sofie, not me and George.”

You gave him an approving smile and reached over to kiss his cheek. “Thank you. That’s all I needed to hear.”

“You guys are so dramatic,” Susie said, standing up to start clearing plates. “You’re just lucky you’re raising the cutest little girl on the grid.”

Toto stood too, taking the envelopes you'd handed him earlier. “I’ll call about the track the moment you leave. If it's available, it's yours. I’ll text you.”

“Perfect,” you said, rising to your feet. “Thank you both. For the food, the help, everything.”

You walked over to hug Susie tightly. “This birthday might actually come together.”

“It always does,” she said warmly.

“And thanks to you too, big boss,” you grinned, giving Toto a quick hug.

“You’re very welcome, princess of Red Bull,” he teased, earning a playful groan from Max.

As the door shut behind you and Max, the warm smell of Susie’s breakfast still clinging to your clothes, you walked down the steps with purpose.

“Okay! Before we meet up with George and Carmen,” you announced, tugging on Max’s sleeve as you both headed toward the car, “I need you to take me to Lando’s.”

Max stopped walking like you just asked him to drop you off at the devil’s front porch.

“Lando’s?” he asked, slowly turning toward you, narrowing his eyes. “As in Norris?”

You looked over your shoulder, already opening the passenger door. “Yes, as in Norris. I need to talk to him. Personally.”

Max blinked. “Personally?”

“Personally,” you repeated, hopping in the car like it was no big deal. “He owes me a favor.”

Max raised a brow and got in behind the wheel, giving you a suspicious side-eye. “Right. A favor. You sure you’re not just going over there so he can hit on you again in that stupid flirty voice he uses when he’s trying to pretend he has a chance?”

You grinned. “Max, please. I am a happily married woman,” you said, waving your hand in front of his face and flashing your wedding ring like it was a shield. “Married to the world champion. The father of my child. The man I trust to tell me when I’ve left the oven on. I’m not running off with Lando for some favors.”

Max muttered under his breath, “He probably color-coordinates the cones with his shoes.”

You snorted. “He does. And he also has a very cute balloon setup I’m trying to get for Sofie’s party. And I need a custom banner for her birthday, he's the man for the job, he's done it for his own niece—tell me that’s not fate.”

Max sighed as he started the car. “You know, if he flirts with you in that dumb little voice again, I might lock him in his McLaren simulator for 24 hours.”

“You’re welcome to try,” you teased, then leaned back in your seat, glancing at him sideways. “But you know I only flirt back when it’s for leverage.”

His grip tightened on the steering wheel. “You flirted back?”

You grinned. “Relax, Verstappen. I said if. Besides, he’s harmless. Like a golden retriever in Gucci sneakers. and I never flirt with Lando, besides he's always joking and I always jokingly tell him you'll kick his ass."

He shook his head, but a smile tugged at the corner of his lips. “You better not give him that smile.”

“What smile?” you asked innocently.

He turned to glance at you at a red light. “That one. The ‘I need something, and I’ll giggle while I ask’ smile.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you said sweetly, already pulling out your phone. “Besides, it works.”

Max sighed again, defeated but amused. “Fine. Go to Lando’s. But I’m staying in the car. If he comes out shirtless again, I’m driving off without you.”

You laughed. “Fair. But if he’s shirtless, I’m definitely getting that balloon arch.”

“You’re unbelievable.”

“And still your wife.”

“That part I don’t regret,” he muttered, shaking his head as the car took off toward Lando’s place in the glittering hills of Monaco, your laughter echoing in the air.

-ˋˏ✄┈┈┈┈

You didn’t knock. You never did. At this point, Lando Norris should’ve expected you to waltz right into his Monaco flat like it was your second home.

“Breaking and entering again?” he called out as he heard the door open.

“Only breaking,” you called back, already making your way into the kitchen. “I’ve entered smoother places.”

Lando appeared around the corner, tousled curls, no shoes, and wearing a hoodie that clearly hadn't seen an iron in weeks. He gave you a skeptical look as you grabbed a sparkling water from his fridge like it was yours. “You’re awfully comfortable for someone trespassing.”

You took a sip, resting your hip against the counter. “Please. If I was trespassing, I wouldn’t be asking for a favor.”

His brows lifted. “Ah, so that’s what this is. What am I loaning now? My yacht? My soul?”

You smirked. “Sofie’s birthday is coming up, and we’re trying to keep it simple, fun, and personal. Max and I could throw her some wild, luxury-level event—but that’s not who we are. We want her to remember the love, not the bill.”

Lando softened a little. “That’s actually kind of sweet.”

You pointed at him. “Don’t get sentimental on me. I’m not done.”

He laughed.

“I remember you had that balloon arch set-up at your niece’s party. Orange and white? Minimal, but really cute. It’d be perfect for Sofie’s birthday.”

“You want to borrow it?” he asked, eyebrow cocked.

“Yes. I could go out and order some new one from some event planner, but… why? You already have it. It’s cute. And it’s from someone who actually likes Sofie. That means more to us than overpriced glitter balloons that’ll pop in five minutes.”

He gave you a lopsided grin. “You’re really pulling the emotional card, huh?”

You shrugged. “It’s not an act. We want people she loves involved in this day—not just vendors with clipboards. The less it feels like a show, the more it feels like home.”

He nodded, then raised a teasing brow. “What’s next, you want me to personally blow up all the balloons too?”

You pointed again. “I mean, if you’re offering…”

He rolled his eyes, but he was smiling. “Alright. I’ll get you the arch, and I’ll even throw in the mini banner I had made—just swap the name out.”

You lit up. “You’re a legend. And one more thing—if you’re thinking of getting her a gift…”

“Oh no. You’re not wrangling me into more.”

“You have a helmet collection,” you said, matter-of-factly. “She’s obsessed with them. Obsessed. She watches your behind-the-scenes vlogs and pauses to look at the shelves. A mini replica would make her year.”

Lando sighed dramatically, but there was no resistance. “Fine. I’ll see if I can get one custom-made. She deserves it.”

“See? That’s why I came to you.” You grinned. “Not because you’re the face of McLaren—though, you know, that helps—but because you care. That’s what we want for her birthday. People who care.”

He tilted his head. “Does Max know you’re here buttering me up?”

You checked your watch. “He’s in the car downstairs. I told him I needed to talk to you privately—strictly business. I assume he’s staring at the time, counting how long I’ve been alone with you.”

Lando chuckled. “Tell him I behaved.”

“Oh, I will. I’ll even tell him you offered to blow up the balloons.”

“Don’t push it.”

You pushed off the counter, tossing the empty bottle into his recycling bin. “You’re the best, Lando. Really.”

“Only because it’s for Sofie,” he called as you headed out.

You paused at the door and turned around. “Exactly why I came to you.”

“Came to me and not Oscar…” Lando muttered as he walked you to the door, arms lazily folded across his chest.

You turned back with a grin, already expecting the jab. “He’s next on my list. Love bothering dear ol’ Piastri. He’s so… composed. Watching him slowly unravel is kind of fun.”

Lando snorted. “What’s next—gonna ask him to DJ?”

You tilted your head, mock thoughtful. “You know, that’s actually not a bad idea…”

He stared at you, half horrified. “No. No, no, no. That man listens to silence recreationally. I wouldn’t trust him to run a toaster, let alone a sound system.”

You grinned. “To be fair, you wouldn’t be allowed to DJ at my kid’s party either.”

Lando put a hand over his chest, fake-offended. “Excuse me? I have taste.”

“You have a playlist titled ‘Pure Chaos, Vol. 2’. And the cover is just a blurry photo of you in sunglasses.”

“Artistic expression,” he defended, then sighed. “Fine. So I can’t DJ. But I can still bring the balloons, the arch, the banner. The classics. I’m reliable.”

You tapped your chin. “Actually, one more thing…”

He leaned in dramatically. “Is it a pony? Because I draw the line at live animals.”

You snapped your fingers. “Music. Bring a speaker. Nothing crazy—just something we can hook up to my phone. I’ll make a playlist with her favorite songs.”

“Like the Moana soundtrack on repeat?” he asked, deadpan.

You smiled. “Exactly. She also loves that silly Dutch song Max taught her. I have no clue what it says but she sings it like it’s gospel.”

He chuckled. “Alright. I’ll bring a speaker. But just so we’re clear—it’ll be a small one. Real tiny.”

You crossed your arms, narrowing your eyes. “You’re a millionaire.”

He gasped. “Sofie is going to make me go broke!”

You both burst into laughter, and then, for a moment, things settled into a comfortable silence.

You stepped forward, wrapping him in a quick, warm hug. “Thanks, Lando. Really.”

He hugged you back with a grin. “You know I’d do anything for her.”

You pulled away and gave him a playful warning point. “No DJ-ing. No fog machines. Just show up, smile, and hand over the balloon arch.”

He gave you a mock salute. “Yes, ma’am.”

Back downstairs, Max sat in the car, arm draped lazily over the steering wheel, scrolling on his phone. As you opened the door and slid into the passenger seat, he glanced sideways.

“Did he flirt?” he asked without looking up.

You leaned in and kissed his cheek, smiling. “He was a perfect gentleman. I’m irresistible, but he tried his best.”

Max smirked, tossing his phone into the console and starting the engine. “Good."

“Well,” you said, settling into your seat, “now take me to George and Carmen.”

“That’s stop number two?” he asked, pulling into the road.

“Oh, no, my love. After George and Carmen, I need Oscar. Then we head to Lewis. Then Charles. And by the time we’re done doing this grand prix of birthday planning…”

“We’ll be picking Sofie up from school,” Max finished with a groan.

You reached over and patted his leg. “Welcome to the domestic paddock.”

He just laughed, driving toward the next stop, knowing full well that for Sofie—you both would do this a hundred times over.

The day had been a whirlwind—no, more like a full-blown sprint from one friend to another, and the weight of planning Sofie’s fifth birthday was finally catching up to you.

You and Max had started strong with George and Carmen. They met you at a cozy café tucked away in Monaco’s quieter streets. Over warm pastries and espresso, they eagerly agreed to help coordinate catering—something that would bring together all of Sofie’s favorite comfort foods, from tiny grilled cheese bites to heart-shaped fruit platters and little macarons. Carmen even suggested a vegan dessert option “just in case,” and George promised to talk to someone about outdoor seating near the track.

Next was Oscar. You had warned Max ahead of time to let you lead, knowing Oscar’s naturally quiet demeanor. But surprisingly, he welcomed you both with a calm smile, and once you mentioned activities for a little girl’s birthday party, his entire posture softened. Growing up with sisters gave him a special insight—and Lily, his ever-supportive girlfriend, chimed in over video call with ideas about crafting stations and maybe a bubble machine. You left with a list of surprisingly thoughtful ideas, plus the promise of a gift from both of them.

Then came Lewis.

You met at his sleek apartment, a space that felt like modern art had collided with calm energy. You asked him to host the karting portion of the party—after all, kids looked up to him, and his name carried both weight and warmth. He was honored, of course, but you had one specific request. “Roscoe has to come.”

Lewis laughed, nodding as Max smirked. “I figured that was non-negotiable.”

“Completely,” you grinned. “She doesn’t want to race unless her favorite dog is trackside.”

Roscoe, aging but still regal, was happy to oblige—even if he’d mostly be napping through the event in a shady spot with his tongue out.

Then finally, you headed to Charles and Alex’s place. Their shared home was lively, filled with soft music and the smell of whatever Alex was cooking when you arrived. She was thrilled to help with the goodie bags—already pulling out themed stickers, ribbon, and mini toys. “Leo can’t wait,” she said with a bright smile, referring to their dog that Sofie also loved. Charles, lounging with a sleepy Leo on his lap, looked up. “I’ll get you all the merch we’ve got,” he offered, already pulling out his phone to message someone on the Ferrari team.

And now—at last—you and Max were walking into the final stop: the bakery.

The scent of sugar, vanilla, and warm bread wrapped around you both like a soft blanket. You closed your eyes for a second, inhaling deeply. The display case glittered with cakes like jewels—fondant-covered dreams in every shade and theme.

“Okay…” you said, lacing your fingers through Max’s. Your voice was quieter now, tinged with fatigue. “We know how many guests. We know how many layers we need. And we’re doing an F1 theme. We just need to lock in a flavor.”

Max stepped forward with a kind of quiet confidence that made your heart flutter despite the exhaustion. “I know what she likes,” he said simply.

You watched as he leaned casually on the counter, listing everything out to the baker with a gentle authority. “Five layers. Vanilla and strawberry swirl for the top, chocolate for the base. Middle tiers mix of lemon and white cake. No fondant. Just soft buttercream—Italian Meringue.”

The baker nodded, impressed. “And the design?”

He smiled. “A miniature track on the top. Small racing cars. One with her name on it. And pink accents. Lots of pink.”

You blinked slowly, your heart so full you could barely stand it.

This was Max in his element—not the race suit, not the podium, not the press. But here, in a bakery, ordering a cake for his daughter with the kind of care most people saved for world championships.

When he turned around, he handed you the order receipt with a satisfied little smirk. “Done. We pick it up the morning of the party.”

You scanned the paper briefly, then looked up at him. “Italian Meringue Buttercream?”

He nodded. “Only the best.”

You exhaled a soft laugh and stepped forward, kissing his cheek tenderly. “Thank you. Seriously.”

Max wrapped an arm around your shoulders and pulled you in for a moment, his lips brushing your temple. “She’s only five once,” he murmured. “Let’s make it count.”

-ˋˏ✄┈┈┈┈

The day had finally wound down after what felt like a whirlwind of movement. Your phone had buzzed nearly non-stop—messages from drivers, friends, family. Each one confirming their part, their presence. You and Max had pulled it off again. Another party, another year, another carefully stitched-together moment of joy for your daughter.

Sofie’s birthday was going to be perfect.

At least… it looked perfect on paper.

Later that afternoon, you both picked her up from school. She clambered into the back seat with a sleepy grin, her voice soft, a little quieter than usual. She talked about her day in fragments—mentioning what she had for lunch, how the sun was too hot on the playground, how her teacher wore funny shoes that squeaked. And then, tucked in between all those little things, she said, “My friends are coming to the party.”

Your heart had lifted at first. You gave her a soft smile in the mirror. “That’s great, baby.”

But something about the way she said it… the way her eyes drifted to the window right after… it stayed with you.

The evening passed gently. Dinner was simple, the lights were warm, and the sea breeze brushed against the Monaco skyline as you helped Sofie settle into bed. She clutched her Ferrari plushie close, the one Max had custom ordered the year she was obsessed with pit stops. She didn’t fight sleep that night. She just turned over and drifted off like a leaf on water.

Her room was dim now, filled with soft pinks and whites, her little books neatly lined on the shelf. In the corner, her toy box sat slightly open, stuffed with a mix of stuffed animals and race cars. And on her nightstand was a framed photo—one of her favorites. Sofie, grinning from ear to ear, with her cheeks slightly smudged from a chocolate snack, standing beside Yuki Tsunoda in the paddock. Yuki had crouched beside her, doing a peace sign, both of them wearing oversized sunglasses. The photo had been taken during last season’s race weekend in Japan, and she had insisted it be framed because, in her words, “Yuki is small like me.”

You smiled at it briefly, then turned to finish cleaning.

It was late now. Max was downstairs, tidying the kitchen while you stayed behind to finish Sofie’s room. You moved quietly, scooping up scattered toys, fluffing pillows, straightening the corners of her blanket.

And then you saw it—her little backpack, tipped halfway off the side of her table.

You reached for it absentmindedly, grabbing the handle to move it to the hook. But the zipper was undone. Papers spilled to the floor like leaves on a windy day.

You crouched down with a soft sigh. “She always forgets to zip it up…” you muttered, shaking your head.

Then you froze.

There, half-tucked into the folder pocket, were the invitations.

Uncreased. Unmarked. Untouched.

Still there.

All of them.

You slowly gathered them, your breath catching. The glitter glue you helped her with still shimmered faintly under the soft glow of the hallway light. Her little handwriting—proud and bouncy—read: “Come to my birthday!!” with hearts drawn around the names of her classmates. But none of them had left her backpack.

Not one had made it into a child’s hand.

Your chest felt hollow as you knelt there, gently placing the invitations back where they had come from. Your fingers lingered over them for a beat too long, heart twisting.

The house was still now. Too still.

You turned off the last light and made your way to the bedroom, your movements slow, like you were carrying the weight of something invisible.

Max was already in bed, scrolling lazily through his phone, waiting for you. When he looked up, the moment his eyes caught yours, his expression changed. He set the phone aside immediately.

“Lieverd…” he said softly, sitting up straighter. “What is it? What’s wrong?”

You walked over slowly, your voice barely above a whisper. “I was cleaning her room… and I found the invitations. The ones we helped her make for school.”

He blinked. “She gave them to her friends already, right?”

You shook your head, your throat tightening. “No. They’re still in her bag, Max. Every single one.”

His eyebrows knit together, mouth opening slightly. “What… she must’ve forgotten. Maybe she was nervous about giving them out?”

You just looked at him, the silence answering for you.

And then you said, quietly, “Max… I don’t think she has anyone to give them to.”

He flinched, his features tightening. “Don’t say that.”

“I’m not trying to be cruel,” you replied gently. “But I’ve seen it. When we drop her off… the girls, they don’t even say hi. She sits at that tiny little desk, on her own, while the others group up.”

He ran a hand through his hair, his eyes suddenly stormy. “No. She has friends. She plays with Kimi and Ollie and—”

“She calls them her brothers,” you cut in softly.

“Because she loves them,” he snapped, but the bite in his voice was more self-defense than anything.

“She never asks for sleepovers. She doesn’t talk about birthday parties at school. She only talks about our friends, your friends, and how she wants to be around them. Max…”

You sat on the edge of the bed, your voice shaking now. “I think she’s lonely.”

He stood abruptly, his voice rising—not in anger, but in desperation. “She’s got us. She’s got so much. She’s smart, and she’s bright, and she’s funny as hell, and beautiful, and bilingual, and—”

“I know she is.”

“She’s got your smile and my stubbornness, and she lights up every room she walks into—how can you say no one wants to be her friend?”

You stood too, reaching for his hands, pulling them down to yours.

“I’m not saying that to hurt you. I’m saying it because I saw her face this morning when those girls walked past her without a single word.”

He looked away, his throat visibly tightening. You saw it now—under all the frustration and protest, he was hurting.

Deeply.

Because he had promised himself he would never let her feel the kind of loneliness he knew all too well. The kind he had carried through childhood, behind closed doors and in foreign paddocks. He had vowed to break that cycle.

And yet, here it was, slipping through the cracks.

"Max, at some point, you have to accept that this is happening," you said, your voice quiet but firm, the kind of tone that came from deep worry, the kind only parents knew. The words felt like glass on your tongue, but they needed to be said.

Max stood in front of you, arms crossed over his chest, jaw tight. He shook his head slowly, defiantly. “No,” he said, voice sharp. “Because I won’t let it happen.”

You sighed, your shoulders sagging under the invisible weight you’d both been carrying all day. “Max, she needs friends her age,” you said gently, pleading with your eyes for him to hear you. “Hanging out with ours, yours and mine, it isn’t going to fix what’s going on when she’s not with us. When she’s at school, she’s alone.”

His face hardened, like stone forming under pressure. His voice turned into a low bite, his wall going up like armor. “She has our friends,” he snapped. “And she likes them. And they love her.”

“I know they do, Max,” you said, trying not to raise your voice. “But they’re not her peers.”

You stepped forward, hands reaching out as if to pull his stubborn heart closer, make him see what was breaking yours. “She needs people her age. She can’t go to every race weekend with you forever. She can’t tag along when Lando invites you out for a party, or when Charles hosts another rooftop dinner. She can’t sit next to you while you drink with Daniel or talk strategy with Fernando. That’s not her world.”

He looked away, blinking hard, trying to bite down the emotions climbing his throat. You could see the fight in his jaw, how he flexed his hands to keep from breaking.

“She has the others,” you continued, more gently this time. “Yes, she has Kimi, Isack, Ollie, Liam… but they’re getting older, Max. They’re teenagers now. They’re not always going to want to play board games or sit through cartoon movies. Oscar and Lily won’t always be around to have baking nights. Lando won’t always be free to play dress-up when she asks.”

You paused, swallowing down the rising lump in your throat. “She can’t always trail behind Checo when he’s with his wife and kids. Eventually… everyone has their own life.”

And then you said what neither of you had wanted to admit.

“She’s going to be left behind, Max. She already is.”

That hit something in him. Hard.

Max’s fists clenched at his sides, his breath shaky, his eyes darting around the room like he needed something to hold onto—something solid in a world that was beginning to crack.

“Bullshit…” he muttered, his voice barely audible. “It’s all bullshit.”

But the way his voice cracked near the end—it was the sound of someone trying to run from the very thing that shaped them.

You stepped closer, your hand gently brushing his arm, grounding him. “I know what you’re feeling,” you whispered. “I know. You see yourself in her.”

He said nothing, but his shoulders dropped, and he finally looked at you. Really looked. His eyes were red-rimmed, glistening.

“That feeling…” he said quietly, like it pained him just to give it breath. “When everyone’s laughing and you’re sitting there… pretending you don’t care.”

You nodded.

“I hated it,” he said. “I hated how it made me feel. Like something was wrong with me. Like I was too much or not enough. Always trying to prove myself. Always trying to be liked by doing something. Never just… being.”

Your heart broke a little more hearing it.

“That’s why I gave her everything,” he said, voice shaking. “That’s why I bring her with me. To the races, to the garage, to dinner with the guys. Because there, she’s loved. There, she laughs. There, she’s seen.”

You stepped in front of him, pressing your forehead gently to his. “But we can’t build her whole life around borrowed moments from ours, Max. She needs a world of her own.”

He let out a long, tired breath and finally sank down onto the edge of the bed, like the truth had hit his chest so hard, his legs couldn’t hold him anymore.

“She’s so happy around us,” he said softly. “I thought that was enough.”

“It is,” you said. “But it’s not everything.”

There was silence for a long moment, and then he spoke again, voice barely more than a whisper.

“I don’t want her to think she’s not enough.”

“She never will,” you replied, gently cupping his cheek. “Because she’s got us. And we’ll do whatever we can to help her build something of her own. We’ll talk to her teachers, find other kids with shared interests, maybe even change schools if we have to.”

“She deserves a world,” he whispered. “Not just to live in ours.”

You kissed his temple, your voice soft but filled with quiet power. “Then let’s give her one.”

And in the dim glow of your bedroom, the two of you sat together, not just as husband and wife—but as parents. Not with answers, but with a shared promise.

You would give your daughter the world. And if it didn’t welcome her with open arms, you’d build her a new one.

-ˋˏ✄┈┈┈┈

The days that followed were delicate—fragile, like trying to hold water in your hands and hoping it wouldn’t slip through your fingers. You and Max had made a quiet, mutual promise to show up more, to not just be parents, but pillars. Breakfasts became rituals—stacked pancakes shaped like hearts, fresh fruit slices fanned into rainbows, Sofie tucked between the two of you at the table, chattering away as her sleepy curls bounced with every excited word.

After school, there were quiet hours of play, where she lined up her stuffed animals for a pretend concert and made Max sit cross-legged while she turned into a glittering pop star. You cheered, Max clapped, and for a moment the world outside didn’t exist. But mornings… mornings were the hardest. School had become an obstacle no child should have to face with a brave face and a heavy heart.

So, when Max told you, “Let me take her alone today,” you agreed, though it left you unsettled. Something had shifted in him. You could see it in the way he zipped up her backpack for her, in the way he held her hand as if it were glass, precious and breakable.

At the school, Max walked tall, even in casual clothes, his hand protectively holding Sofie’s as they made their way down the hallway. She clutched her backpack, red sneakers squeaking with every step. He paused outside her classroom door, knelt to her level, brushing her curls behind her ears.

“Hey, you remember what I said?” he asked softly.

She nodded, whispering, “Shoulders back.”

He smiled. “That’s right. Strong like mama, brave like papa.”

She beamed and walked in, waving over her shoulder.

Max stood, his face hardening like steel. His gaze landed on her teacher, who was bent over a desk arranging colored pencils. He walked over, calm but deliberate.

“We need to speak,” he said, voice low but commanding.

The teacher blinked, taken off guard. She stood, stepping out into the hallway and closing the door gently behind her.

“Is something wrong?” she asked.

Max didn’t hesitate. “Yes. A lot is wrong,” he said, eyes fixed and unwavering. “Why have neither my wife nor I been contacted about what’s been going on with Sofie?”

The teacher looked confused at first, then flustered. “I—I wasn’t aware there was a concern—”

“She has no one,” Max interrupted, his tone sharper now. “She tells us every day about her ‘friends,’ but when we watch her, she’s alone. Sitting by herself. The other kids ignore her. That’s not a concern to you?”

She hesitated. “Children go through phases—”

“She is not a phase,” he snapped, stepping slightly closer, lowering his voice but not the fire in it. “We don’t drop her off here every morning so she can be pushed aside. I understand children can be selfish, but isn’t that your job? To help guide them toward compassion? Empathy?”

The teacher said nothing. Her silence was too loud.

Max continued, “This weekend is her birthday. The invitations are in her bag. If I find them still there after school—if they are not handed out to every single child in that classroom—I will make sure this becomes a much bigger issue.”

There was something dangerous in the calm of his threat.

“She is a good kid. Bright, loving, loud, funny. She knows how to say ‘thank you’ in three languages and still thinks a photo of her and Yuki Tsunoda in the paddock is one of the best days of her life,” he said, voice softening for just a moment. “She deserves to be seen.”

From the doorway, Sofie peeked out, grinning. Max turned, and instantly, his features softened into a smile just for her.

He gave her a thumbs up.

She giggled and gave him one back, then blew him a kiss. He caught it with exaggerated flair, pressing it to his heart with both hands.

“I love you!” she called.

“I love you more,” he mouthed back, and then turned to walk away, shoulders square, heart still burning.

The dining room was chaos—in the most loving, sugar-filled, glitter-splattered way possible.

You sat on the floor in a cozy oversized hoodie, surrounded by boxes of checkered flag stickers, racing-themed whistles, mini trophies, and little plastic cars. A roll of pink ribbon dangled from your wrist as you carefully tied it around a goodie bag, cinching it tight.

Alex sat cross-legged across from you, working just as diligently. “This is like… if Formula 1 met Barbie and had a sugar-high child.”

You chuckled. “Exactly the aesthetic I was going for.”

The bags were a hit of adrenaline and sweetness—racing-themed from start to finish, but unmistakably Sofie: pink pit passes, mini tires filled with candy, and even small keychains shaped like helmets. Everything screamed her love for speed, but also her love for softness, for color, for joy.

You reached for a small checklist on your phone, double-checking the gifts. “Helmet keychains, tire gummies, flag stickers, race medals... check, check, check.”

Alex leaned back on her palms, raising a curious brow. “Did Lando ever finish that helmet thing you mentioned?”

Your lips curved into a secretive smile. “Yes. It’s done. Pink and black—just like his, but flipped. Even has her name etched in cursive on the back.”

Alex grinned. “No way. That’s gonna make her lose it.”

“She has no idea,” you said softly, pride and emotion tugging at your voice. “It’s just between me and him for now. We’re giving it to her at the end of the party.”

Alex clutched her heart. “You guys are insane with the details. No wonder she’s the most spoiled little speed demon on Earth.”

“She’s loved,” you corrected, looking over the pile of nearly-finished bags. “Not spoiled.”

Alex nodded, no argument. “And you both make sure of that every day.”

Just then, your phone rang—and the second you saw the contact, your stomach twisted.

You answered fast. “Charles?”

“I’m at the bakery,” he said with a sigh. “They’re claiming they don’t have the cake.”

Your mouth dropped open. “What do you mean they don’t have it? We placed the order days ago!”

“I brought the receipt. Still nothing in the system.”

You stood up, pacing already. “Tell them it’s under Max Verstappen. Look again. I swear, Charles, it was confirmed.”

“I’m telling them. But they’re acting like they’ve never seen the name in their life.”

You didn’t even hesitate—you tapped Max’s contact and dialed him.

He picked up instantly, like he knew it was urgent. “What happened?”

“They’re saying they don’t have the cake,” you said, your voice rising. “Charles is there, but they’re not finding the order. Her cake, Max. Her birthday is tomorrow.”

“I’m on it, mama bear,” he said, calm but tight with frustration.

“This has to be perfect. We’ve never messed up before. We can’t start now. Not on this.”

“I know,” he said firmly. “Trust me. I’ll fix it.”

You hung up with a deep exhale, fingers brushing the pink ribbons on the goodie bags as if they could calm your nerves. Alex handed you a gummy tire.

“Eat this,” she said. “And breathe. You’ve got Verstappen going full throttle into bakery battle. It’ll be fine.”

Across town, the little boutique bakery was filled with the scent of fresh pastry and just a hint of trouble.

Charles stood stiff at the counter, holding the order receipt like it was a legal document. “This order was placed for my niece. A five-layer cake. We submitted it days ago.”

The baker behind the counter shrugged again, like he had all the time in the world. “There’s nothing under Charles Leclerc. Nothing under Verstappen either.”

“Check again,” Charles pressed.

The bell above the door jingled sharply.

Max stepped in like a storm front. No greeting. No smile. Just purpose. He spotted Charles and walked straight up.

“What’s going on?” he asked, jaw clenched.

Charles held up the receipt. “They’re saying they don’t have it.”

The baker sighed. “There’s nothing in our system. We need to re-place the order—”

Max cut him off. “No. You’re not listening.”

He stepped closer to the counter, resting his hands there like he was barely containing himself. His voice was low but charged, like thunder before the lightning.

“This cake isn’t just some random request. It’s five layers. Top tier is vanilla and strawberry swirl. Middle layers are lemon and white cake. Base layer is chocolate. No fondant. Just soft buttercream—Italian meringue.”

The baker blinked.

Max didn’t stop.

“Decoration is a miniature track on the top. With tiny racing cars. One of them has her name on it. There are pink accents everywhere—because she loves pink. And because she asked for this. Specifically this.”

Charles stood a little taller beside him. “You don’t understand—this cake means everything. It’s not just dessert. It’s the centerpiece of the day.”

Max leaned forward. “I just watched my daughter walk into school this morning feeling invisible to every kid in her class. I saw her fake a smile. I saw her look for hope. This cake is part of the joy we’re trying to give back to her. So either you honor the receipt you were given—or you lose a whole lot of business.”

“And reputation,” Charles added. “Because I promise you, if this place is the reason my niece doesn’t get the birthday she deserves, you’ll be hearing about it.”

The baker paled. “I… I’ll talk to the kitchen. We’ll find a way to get it done.”

“Good,” Max said, stepping back. “Because if I come back here and it’s not being worked on—I won’t be calm next time.”

He turned sharply, walking out with Charles behind him. As the door shut, Charles exhaled a breath of admiration. “Remind me never to piss you off.”

Max didn’t answer. His mind was already home again—imagining her smile when she saw that pink-iced track, her little fingers tracing her name on that tiny racing car.

No one was going to ruin that.

Not on his watch.

-ˋˏ✄┈┈┈┈

Later that afternoon, the air was soft and golden, the kind of light that kissed everything it touched and made it feel like the day might end gently after all the chaos.

You and Max stood hand in hand outside the school gates, the breeze tugging lightly at your jacket, fingers locked tightly together. You spotted Sofie before she saw you—her little frame bouncing down the school steps with her backpack bouncing right along behind her, hair slightly tousled, cheeks pink from the warm afternoon sun. There was always a piece of your heart that healed just by seeing her.

She noticed you both and her steps quickened, her face lighting up like she hadn’t just seen you this morning. “Mama! Papa!”

“Hey, honeybee,” you smiled, crouching down with open arms as she ran into them, hugging you tight before shifting into Max’s legs.

Max bent slightly, smoothing her hair back. “Let me see your bag, baby.”

Sofie tilted her head, curious. “Why?”

Max gave a light grin. “Just wanna check something.”

She hesitated for a moment, then slowly slipped the straps off her shoulders and passed the bag to him. You leaned in, watching as he unzipped it carefully.

Together, you both sifted through the pockets—crumbled drawings, a rogue crayon, an empty juice box—and then, surprisingly, no envelopes. No stack of pink-and-checkered birthday invites. Your brows lifted.

“You gave them to your class?” you asked, your voice light, though your heart was thudding.

She nodded quickly, her excitement peeking through. “Yup! I passed them out after snack time!”

Then, a beat passed. Her expression changed—her eyes dropped slightly, a small frown tugging at her lips.

“I don’t know if they’ll come though…” she mumbled, her voice small. The uncertainty in her tone pierced right through you.

You glanced up at Max, your heart twisting. He met your eyes, reading your worry instantly. He gave the smallest shrug and then—like clockwork—he stepped in.

“If they don’t,” Max said gently, crouching to her level, “then they’re gonna miss out on the coolest birthday party ever.”

Sofie blinked at him, surprised.

“I mean—think about it,” he said, lifting an eyebrow, “they won’t get to eat that yummy cake we’ve got coming, they won’t get to hang out with your uncles—especially the ones who are basically kids themselves,” he winked.

She started to giggle.

“They won’t get to see Roscoe and Leo in their party bow ties. And they definitely won’t get to meet your best friend Jack.”

Her smile bloomed.

“And worst of all…” Max leaned closer, pretending to whisper, “they’ll miss me. Which is, let’s be honest, tragic.”

That did it. She giggled so hard she snorted a little, covering her mouth with both hands as her eyes crinkled.

You mouthed a silent thank you over her head to Max, overwhelmed by his constant ease, his unwavering ability to smooth the cracks before they spread.

He hummed in reply, then in one effortless move, wrapped his arms around her and scooped her up. She shrieked with laughter and clung to him, resting her head on his shoulder like it was her favorite pillow.

“We’re gonna eat at your favorite place tonight,” Max told her, kissing the side of her forehead. “And tomorrow—we party, okay?”

She nodded eagerly, confidence back in her voice. “Let’s go!”

As you all walked to the car together, you felt the weight in your chest loosen. The tension that had knotted in your stomach since that morning, the uncertainty about the cake, the kids, the timing—it all felt manageable again. Because Max had a way of doing that.

Now that you really thought about it, he always did. From the first time Sofie’s favorite toy broke and he spent an hour at the kitchen table with glue and toothpicks, to the time her markers dried out and he ran to the store before she even noticed. On nights when you were half-asleep in her bed from a nightmare, Max would carry her to yours and let her nestle in between you, then pull the blankets up gently around both his girls.

He had a habit of being exactly what the moment needed. Not flashy. Not dramatic. Just there. Steady. Reliable. Yours.

The car ride was quiet, the soft hum of tires on the road blending with the calm buzz of the early evening. Sofie sat in her car seat behind you, half-singing a little made-up tune as she watched the world go by from the window. You reached over and let your hand rest on Max’s thigh, giving it a small squeeze. He gave your hand a soft pat, his thumb running along your fingers as he drove.

And then, from the backseat, her small voice piped up again.

“Can we get dinner and… watch the water?”

You and Max exchanged a look, a bit confused by the request.

“Watch the water?” you asked.

“Yeah…” she said dreamily. “Like near the boats. Where the ducks were last time.”

You smiled. “You mean the pier?”

She nodded.

Max glanced in the rearview mirror. “Sure,” he said with a shrug, like it was the easiest thing in the world. “Dinner and a view. That’s what the birthday girl wants.”

You turned slightly in your seat. “We can grab your favorite—what do you say? Pasta?”

“With garlic bread,” she added firmly.

“Deal.”

A beat passed.

“Is Yuki coming to my party?” she asked, almost shyly.

You laughed softly, the tension fully melted now. “Of course he is. He wouldn’t miss it for the world. You’re basically his favorite little human.”

She grinned.

You could already picture it: Yuki showing up with a gift too big to carry properly, Roscoe and Leo dressed in tiny party bow ties, Jack sprinting around with a balloon sword, and Sofie at the center of it all—smiling, glowing, loved.

And right now, in this quiet little moment in the car, with Max’s hand resting on your knee and Sofie humming softly behind you, you realized something:

This was it. The life you built. The family you fought for. The love that Max held together so effortlessly—even when things felt like they might fall apart.

-ˋˏ✄┈┈┈┈

The golden morning sun poured through the large kitchen windows, casting a soft glow on the breakfast table where laughter mingled with the smell of pancakes and strawberries. The air carried that familiar excitement that only came once a year—Sofie’s birthday. She was officially five now. A whole hand. Your heart ached and swelled all at once. Where had the time gone?

You smoothed out your white embroidered maxi dress as you moved about the kitchen, the delicate eyelet hem brushing your ankles with every graceful step. The shirred bodice clung softly to your figure while the thin straps sat lightly on your sun-kissed shoulders. You looked down at Sofie—your little sunshine—who was happily munching on a strawberry, her cream cherry-print jumpsuit just as sweet as she was. Her long blonde hair was still a bit tousled from sleep, but her eyes sparkled with anticipation.

Max leaned casually against the counter, dressed in a ribbed beige knit shirt that hugged his frame just right, paired with light tan trousers and his usual quiet confidence. His watch caught the light as he reached for his coffee, his eyes settling on Sofie with a gentle smile.

The kitchen was buzzing with quiet chatter. Kimi, Ollie, Isack, and Liam had joined the breakfast table, each of them clearly still waking up but making the effort. “I’m thankful you all came all the way from England to Monaco for this,” you said, your tone genuine.

Liam waved you off with a smile. “It’s nothing. I wasn’t going to miss her birthday for the world.”

Max nodded in agreement. “Now that you’re all here, it really means a lot.”

Kimi carefully sliced a strawberry and placed it on Sofie’s plate. “So the party’s at the karting track?” he asked, looking to you and Max for confirmation.

Max chuckled, nodding. “Her pick. She’s officially done with princess parties.”

“She still likes pink, but she’s moved past princess wonderland,” you added with a fond grin, watching as Ollie made goofy faces at Sofie. She giggled, her little shoulders bouncing, the cherry print on her jumpsuit dancing along.

Max shook his head, amused. “Of course those two are having a competition before 10 a.m.”

There was something magical about that moment. The world felt still and warm, full of light and laughter. Sofie’s excitement was bubbling over, yet grounded by the comfort of having everyone she loved under one roof.

Your phone buzzed, and you excused yourself from the table, stepping just outside the kitchen into the sun-drenched hallway. “Hello?” you answered.

“Bonjour, we have the cake here, the party is all set!” Charles' voice rang with energy. “And believe it or not, some little guests are already here, waiting on the birthday girl. But don’t worry—I haven’t let them touch a thing. Now hurry up and get my niece here!”

You laughed. “I’m bringing her, Leclerc. Don’t get bossy. She has Verstappen blood running in her veins.”

Charles laughed back. “As long as she’s living in Monaco, she’s a Leclerc. Now bring her!”

You shook your head, smiling, and hung up. Stepping back into the kitchen, you clapped your hands to gather everyone's attention. “Alright! Finish up your breakfasts, we’ve got a party to attend.”

Everyone began to rise, but you raised a hand. “Hold on—sunscreen. All of you. It’s bright out today, and I want Sofie, Kimi, Ollie, Isack, and Liam protected.”

Max raised a brow, amused. “They can do it themselves.”

You arched a brow right back. “You’re putting sunscreen on too. I don’t care if you think you're invincible.”

He smirked, grabbing the bottle off the counter. “Yes, ma’am.”

They had gotten sunscreen on just the way you’d instructed—foreheads, cheeks, even behind the ears. You had given each of them a motherly once-over, especially Sofie, ensuring her delicate skin was fully protected from the summer Monaco sun.

Sofie was already bubbling with excitement, bouncing slightly on her toes until Isack crouched in front of her with a grin. “Hop on, birthday girl.” She squealed, wrapping her arms around his shoulders and her legs around his waist, her laughter ringing out like windchimes in the breeze. Her curls spilled over his shoulder as he stood up, carrying her out the front door like the most precious cargo.

The others followed behind them—Ollie carrying his water bottle and party hat, Liam holding two gift bags, and Max trailing steadily behind them all with the black duffel slung over his shoulder. The bag held Sofie’s custom racing suit, one she had insisted on wearing for her "big girl kart race." Max’s steps were slow, steady, his eyes lingering on his daughter—radiant, joyful, entirely in her element.

You followed last, gently closing the front door behind you and twisting the key until the lock clicked. The moment you turned, Max was waiting, already a few paces ahead. You jogged a little to catch up, your dress swaying around your ankles, the embroidery catching the sunlight in soft reflections.

“You know,” you said, nudging Max gently with your shoulder as the two of you walked in unhurried step behind the rest, “Charles said she already has friends there. Like, real friends.”

Max didn’t respond right away, but you saw the tension drop from his shoulders like a weight shrugged off. His jaw softened, and he looked ahead where Sofie sat proudly on Isack’s back, talking animatedly with Ollie.

“That’s good,” he finally said, voice low and thoughtful.

You could hear the silent hope underneath that one word. Good. That she wouldn’t feel like some odd little girl being pitied by the children of her father’s fame. That maybe, just maybe, she was making connections of her own. That today’s party might be more than just a grand gesture—it might be the start of something more permanent, more normal. Friends who stuck around because they liked her, not because of who her dad was. Max didn’t say all that, but he didn’t have to. You felt it.

Up ahead, Kimi veered off to his own car. He gave Max a quick thumbs-up. “Picking up Maggie and Eli, see you at the track,” he called.

Liam did the same, calling out that he and his girlfriend would follow shortly behind.

You and Max moved toward your car as Ollie opened the backseat door, holding it open for Sofie as Isack gently lowered her in. Her little fingers fidgeted with the seatbelt, and Ollie helped her click it into place, all while she chattered away about the “super secret handshake” she and some girl named Lila had made at school.

Isack laughed and nodded along, and soon he and Ollie were caught up in a very serious discussion with Sofie about which kart color was the fastest. The backseat became its own little world of theories and giggles, a bubble of youthful imagination.

You slid into the passenger seat, smoothing your dress beneath you as Max got in and started the car. He glanced at you, eyes crinkling with something soft and unreadable—comfort, maybe, or gratitude, or the peace that came from knowing she was happy.

You rested your elbow on the door, turning your head slightly to watch him as he drove. The road to the track wound through the city in smooth curves, palm trees casting shadows on white stone and flashes of the marina glittering like a promise.

The day had only just begun, but already, it felt perfect.

-ˋˏ✄┈┈┈┈

Toto had come through brilliantly. The track venue was booked out entirely for Sofie’s birthday, giving the kids space to race in short karting rounds while a roped-off, grassy courtyard near the paddock had been turned into party central.

The party was alive with laughter, bright colors, and the unfiltered joy that only a child's birthday could bring. The yard was transformed into a wonderland of streamers and balloons, bubbles dancing through the air, floating like tiny glistening orbs in the warm sunlight. Music spilled from the speakers, a playful soundtrack to the chaos that unfolded across the lawn.

The water guns, of course, hadn’t remained in the hands of just the little ones for long. Kimi had started it—grabbing one of the bigger water blasters with a mischievous smirk—before Isack, Liam, and Ollie joined in, practically reliving their own childhoods. Franco and Yuki weren’t far behind either. Soon it was a full-on battle between the “older kids,” the laughter from their side of the yard mixing in seamlessly with the younger ones.

You stood beside Max under the shaded canopy, sipping a glass of lemonade as the chaos unfolded in front of you. His arm brushed against yours, and though neither of you spoke right away, there was something comforting about the shared silence. Just watching.

Leo ran in gleeful circles with the kids, his small golden tail wagging wildly, letting the children hug him between runs. Meanwhile, Roscoe lay peacefully on a soft blanket in the corner of the yard, basking in the shade and soaking up all the love and gentle pets he was receiving. He only opened one eye every so often, as if supervising the activity like an old man watching his grandkids play.

“I didn’t expect her whole class to show,” you murmured, eyebrows raised in disbelief as you counted more and more familiar faces from Sofie’s school. “What did you do?”

Max shrugged with a feigned innocence that you didn’t believe for a second. “Put a little fear into the teachers,” he said casually, smirking. “And the baker. That’s how her cake got done in record time.”

You smacked his arm with a laugh, earning a grin from him. “You didn’t.”

“I did,” he said, not ashamed in the slightest. “She deserved it.”

Nearby, Lando was staring at Sofie, clearly moved. “She’s gotten so big. Goodness, I remember holding her when she was still wrapped up in that yellow baby blanket.”

Oscar raised a brow. “Are you crying?”

“What? No!” Lando huffed, wiping under his eyes a little too quickly.

Everyone chuckled, including Fernando, who sighed dramatically. “I feel too old being here.”

You pointed at him with your drink. “You were just running around with a water gun two minutes ago.”

He shrugged, unbothered. “True. But my back’s gonna feel it tomorrow.”

As the sun dipped lower, the golden hour wrapped the yard in a warm glow. Everyone gathered around for food—sandwiches, pasta salad, pizza, grilled veggies, tiny sliders. Sofie, with her plate full, sneakily dropped little bites of chicken and fries near Roscoe and Leo.

Charles caught her in the act but only chuckled. “I’m going to pretend I didn’t see that.”

“Me too,” Lewis added with a shrug. “She is the birthday girl after all.”

After the food, it was time for the cake, it stole the show, the attention of those gathered, but it was beautiful, and you were thankful Max managed to get it on time.

Everyone gathered around, singing loud and out of tune, clapping and cheering as Max carefully removed the candle for her.

She took a deep breath and blew out the flame, her eyes sparkling as you clapped and kissed the top of her head. You cut the cake into slices as fast as you could, Daniel ruffling Sofie’s hair as he handed out plates. “Happy birthday, munchkin.”

She giggled, holding her plate with both hands, eyes wide at the sweet treat.

The cake was a hit, no one would be able to forget about it and you were glad to see the smile upon Sofie's face as she sat on Max's lap, eating away at her cake slice.

Adults and kids alike devoured their slices. Afterward came dancing, bracelet making with Oscar and Lily, and even makeup and nails with Eli under the craft tent. Sofie got a glitter heart on her cheek and her nails painted sparkly purple.

Then came the moment of chaos: gift opening.

Alex stepped forward, dramatically holding up her phone to record. “Our gift first, please!”

Sofie tore through the pink wrapping with careful excitement, revealing a soft white jewelry box. Inside was a delicate gold necklace with a heart-shaped diamond pendant. She gasped, her fingers trembling as she touched it.

Your eyes widened. “A necklace? Charles, Alex... it’s beautiful.”

Max let out a low whistle. “That looks real…”

“It is,” Charles confirmed with a proud grin.

Max's jaw dropped slightly. “She’s five! She doesn’t need a real diamond necklace!”

“She’s a princess,” Alex teased. “Princesses wear diamonds.”

Oscar and Lily's gift came next, and it had Sofie hugging the box before she even opened it. Inside was a beaded bracelet with a tiny photo charm—it showed her grinning between Lily and Oscar at the kart track.

“A bracelet?! Mama! Papa! Look! It’s me and Lily and Oscar!” she exclaimed, showing you both.

Max laughed and leaned over. “You two are spoiling her so much, I’m afraid I’ll be buying her necklaces and bracelets worth half my salary by next year.”

Oscar clapped him on the back. “Welcome to parenthood.”

When Yuki’s gift came, Sofie squealed louder than before. It was her very own custom Red Bull race suit, complete with patches and her name embroidered on the chest.

“Now I’m like Papa!” she said proudly, twirling in it.

You clasped your hands together. “You look beautiful, baby.”

She ran over and hugged Yuki’s leg tightly. “Thank you!”

“You can race for us now!” he joked, beaming.

Lewis gifted her a pinky ring, small and elegant, with a tiny pink gemstone. You had reservations about it—another real piece of jewelry?—but the way Sofie’s eyes sparkled as she slipped it on melted your concern.

Kimi and Eli gifted her a child-safe makeup set, which nearly made Max groan audibly. Still, he bit his tongue and gave a tight smile as Sofie squealed in delight, already planning to give him a “makeover.”

Isack, Ollie, and Liam came through with plushies—an entire family of them. Unicorns, kittens, a racing-themed bear. You immediately knew you’d be picking them up off the floor for the next six months, but it was worth it to see her grin.

More gifts poured in: F1 merch, books, puzzles, glittery clothes, light-up shoes. She was spoiled, there was no denying it—but she was also so deeply loved. And as you watched her eyes shine with each new surprise, her cheeks sore from smiling, her voice getting hoarse from all the excitement, you realized that Max was right earlier.

-ˋˏ✄┈┈┈┈

The time had come — the part Sofie had been anticipating all day.

The sun had dipped just low enough to cast long golden shadows across the track, a soft breeze sweeping through the area as the children gathered at the starting line. The smell of rubber, faint gasoline, and birthday cupcakes still lingered in the air, blending oddly well with the thrill of what was about to unfold. Helmets were secured, tiny gloves pulled tight, and nerves buzzed just under the surface — not just from the kids, but the adults too.

You stood on the sidelines beside Susie, arms crossed gently over your chest, your heart thudding in rhythm with the distant hum of engines. Max was pacing lightly a few feet ahead, hands cupped around his mouth, shouting across the track.

“Go, Sofie! Full throttle! Brake late!” he bellowed proudly.

You nudged Susie with your elbow, shaking your head with a smile. “Think he might out-cheer Toto.”

She laughed, brushing her hair out of her face as a gust of wind picked up. “Possibly so. But I’m pretty sure Toto never did cartwheels after a heat win.”

You both watched as the kids took off — the little karts buzzing, weaving clumsily yet determinedly around the first corner. Sofie was near the front, her pink helmet gleaming under the floodlights now starting to flicker on around the track. She gripped the wheel with a seriousness far beyond her years, eyes focused, lips pursed in pure concentration.

Everyone was recording — phones up, laughter echoing, cheers rising. And in that moment, the world slowed. Nothing mattered except the look on her face, the joy, the pure bliss of being alive, celebrated, and fully seen.

When she took the final corner wide and pushed ahead to cross the line first, Max erupted in loud claps, pumping his fist in the air as if she’d just won the Monaco Grand Prix.

“That’s my girl!” he shouted, beaming.

You couldn’t help the smile that spread across your face. The handmade trophies you and Max had ordered sparkled on a nearby table, waiting — not as symbols of competition, but as reminders of effort and joy. You had both agreed early on: this day wasn’t about placing first. But watching Sofie throw her arms up in victory — it was clear she had her father’s fire. And Max? Well, he looked like he’d just won father of the year.

The kids were ushered into a loose line for photos. Pictures, hugs, and videos followed, tiny hands gripping their miniature trophies while smiles stretched across frosting-stained faces. Sofie held hers like it was gold.

As twilight deepened and the air cooled, the buzz began to mellow. Guests started gathering their things, parents thanked you for the invitation and complimented the party. Kids gave Sofie tight hugs, one by one, and you could see how it warmed her. She wasn’t just loved by family — she had friends. Real friends. Watching her bounce from child to child, exchanging giggles and promises of playdates, made something swell in your chest.

You caught a glance at Max, who had gone quiet beside you, his eyes misty. He blinked quickly and coughed. “She’s growing up,” he said softly, not quite to you, not quite to himself. “Too fast.”

You placed your hand on his arm. “I know.”

As the final few families drifted out into the night, the stars now beginning to peek overhead, Lando stepped forward, holding a box tucked under his arm. He crouched down to Sofie’s level, his smile soft. “For you, kiddo.”

You stilled, heart tugging, already knowing what it was. You watched as Sofie’s eyes went wide, her little hands tearing through the wrapping with excitement bubbling over.

The moment she uncovered it — a custom black-and-pink helmet, her size, with a glimmering finish — she gasped.

Her hands trembled slightly as she turned it in her lap, then looked up. “It’s like yours... but for me!”

It was true. She’d always been obsessed with his helmet design — not because of branding or sponsorships, but simply because to her, it looked like something out of a dream. You could see her trying to hold back the tears that came anyway.

She launched forward, wrapping her arms around Lando tightly. He chuckled as he hugged her back.

“I’m glad you like it,” he said into her hair.

“She loves it,” you whispered, placing a hand over your chest.

Max smiled, watching the two of them. It was more than just a helmet. It was a memory — a gift she’d never forget.

Lando stood, ruffled her hair, and with one last “Happy Birthday” and a warm smile your way, he headed toward his car, disappearing into the night.

You and Max lingered in the quiet afterglow. The lights around the track were being turned off one by one, the venue slowly emptying. Sofie held her helmet tight, nearly dozing off as she clung to her final gift of the night.

There was nothing left to do now — no more cupcakes to serve, no more goodie bags to pass out. It had been everything you hoped for. Maybe more.

Later, the soft hum of cartoons filled the Verstappen living room, the glow of the TV flickering gently across the walls. You sat curled on the couch, Sofie curled up against your side, her head on your chest. She had fallen asleep almost instantly once the adrenaline wore off, helmet tucked nearby like a teddy bear.

Her trophy was carefully placed in a case by Max in silent joy before deciding to check up on you two.

You didn’t realize you’d fallen asleep, too, until Max came in, stepping quietly around the couch. He paused, smiling at the two of you.

He reached down, pulling a soft throw blanket from the armrest and draped it over your legs and shoulders. He leaned in, kissing Sofie’s temple first, then yours.

Today had been good. Better than good. It had been magic.

He crouched a little, careful not to wake you, and held up his hand. Slowly, he gave your limp, sleeping hand a quiet high five, chuckling to himself.

“We really did it,” he whispered, voice low. “I did it. And I’ll make sure every birthday for her turns out just as well. Always.”

He stood for a moment, just watching you both — his whole world curled together on that couch — and let himself breathe.

Because this? This was what everything was for.

[magicalqueennightmare]

Echo-Part 6

John Walker x Reader (nicknamed Echo)

John is less than thrilled when you end up on a mission with Sam and Joaquin and it appears you’re getting rather close with Joaquin

Warnings: Mention of killing people, jealousy

“I get to go with you?” you were standing in a debriefing room with Sam, Bucky and Joaquin. Apparently Sam and Joaquin needed a third for a mission and given your record Sam deemed you worthy. He grinned “If you’re up for it”  were you up for getting out of the tower, out of New York for a few days and actually still having a place to come back to and a job since you weren’t ditching it? Hell yes.

“Of course!” you told him and he nodded “Grab your gear, we’ll get the hell out of here” you grinned “Give me like ten minutes tops” and turned to walk out of the room “Can I walk with you? Go over everything?” Joaquin asked and you had a feeling it was because Bucky and Sam were talking about he didn’t want to feel like a third wheel butting into a private conversation. You nodded “Sure Torres, fall in”

The two of you stepped out into the hallway and you pointed to the left “I am actually learning this place!” he laughed “Finally? I mean besides sneaking around under the floorboards?” you shrugged “Everyone  looks in the vents for someone when they breach a place. No one looks down” “That’s a good point” he agreed with a laugh. He had found it amusing that you’d gotten the jump on the team by hiding under the floors of the tower, finding a singular loose tile as an entry point.

You helped Bucky and Sam to point out weak spots to Valentina to reinforce so the tower was now basically impenetrable. You were a little disappointed in John that he hadn’t clocked them. If he hadn’t been so in his head he would have but once you learned just how they’d met Bob and the powers that man held within himself it wasn’t that much of a surprise everyone was still a bit unsteady at the point of moving into the tower.

You were glad that you’d made friends with Bob as easily as you had. The void was something of your nightmares and you fucking dreaded ever facing that. You could only imagine what awaited you and the idea of everyone seeing it? That was almost worse than the idea of having to face it by yourself.

“So, what do two big strapping men like you and Samuel need little ol me for?” you asked, even though you’d gone over the basics of the mission with him, Sam and Bucky. You’d been around Joaquin enough to know silence was damn near a physical pain to him. You understood, you didn’t like it either. You kept music playing in your bedroom at nighttime to fill the silence. Most nights Yelena would bang on the wall and ask you to turn it up so she could hear it too. It helped sharing quarters with people just as fucked up as you were.

“Oh come on now Echo. Don’t act like you don’t know what you’re doing” he teased, bumping his shoulder against yours. “I’ve seen your damn service record. You’re hell woman” you grinned “Keep sweet talking me Torres, I kind of like it” and he busted out laughing “I like you, you got a weird sense of humor. It keeps people on their toes” you shrugged “Don’t you agree that it’s whatever keeps ya going?” “Oh one hundred percent”

When the two of you go to the elevator you hit the button for Yelena’s floor. As the doors closed you cut your eyes at Joaquin “Hold on a minute, you two have wings. Does that mean I’m on ground control?” he grinned “Don’t worry. I’ll give you a lift if you need it” 

John had looked everywhere in the tower that were common areas: the kitchen, entertainment room, gym, even the damn debriefing rooms.  Unless you were held up on Yelena’s floor he had no clue where you were. Had you finally decided you couldn’t keep being in close quarters with him? No, no matter how complicated whatever feelings were between you and him you had formed friendships with the rest of the team. You had a job here, a place to live. You liked having a set structure. You needed that, you craved that. You wouldn’t let him fuck that up. 

He spotted Yelena walking down the hallway with Bob so he called her name “Belova! Where the hell is Echo?” she turned around with a raised eyebrow “Hello to you too Walker. She’s on a mission? She left this morning with Wilson and Torres” 

You went on a mission with Sam and Joaquin? What kind of mission? Where were you headed? What were you facing? All questions he wanted to spit off and knew if he did, Yelena would just roll her eyes. Also he knew Sam, knew he was reliable enough but he didn’t know quite enough about Torres for him to have your back.

“I didn’t know” he muttered and a smirk slipped onto her face “What’s wrong Walker? Mad she found a new soldier to partner with?” “Torres is airforce” he replied and she rolled her eyes “Whatever, you don’t seem too happy”

He shook his head “I was just worried when I couldn’t find her anywhere, that was all” “That’s nice of you to be worried about her” Bob offered with a small smile. John nodded “Yeah, I’m gonna head out” “Need to clear your head?” Yelena guessed with a smug smile and he glared at her “You’re a pain in the ass Belova” 

“You don’t like me because I can see right through your bullshit Walker” she bit back and he shook his head “Bye Bob” and walked away. He wouldn’t let Yelena bait him into letting anything slip. 

“That lift would be nice right about now Torres!” you hollered over the com and felt the air shift around you right before his arms were around your waist and the ground was suddenly very far below you. 

Sam flew in, taking out the men you’d just been facing off against as Joaquin got the two of you a little further away to drop down and set you on your feet before landing next to you. A half dozen guards noticed the two of you and you grinned at him “Alright bird boy, lets see what you got besides some fancy flying” 

“I got you” he laughed and you winked at him “I’ll take left, you take right” and ducked a bullet, sliding into the first guard’s kneecap feeling it cave inwards under your boot.  When that guard went down you grabbed the knife from your side and flipped it upwards, throwing it and it hit its mark perfectly in the side of his neck. 

You gripped his shoulders and flipped him up to use his body as a shield against the other two, sparing yourself enough time to pull your gun and twist to return fire.  You hit one guard between the eyes and the other you caught in the chest with the first bullet and in the neck with the second. Once you were sure they were both dead, you dropped their dead buddy and stooped to snatch your knife free from his neck and used his shirt to wipe the blood off of it before slipping it back into place.

You looked over to see how Joaquin was faring and he’d just dropped his last target as well. He grinned at you “Damn, using a dead man as a shield? You got the rest of em beat” you busted out laughing “And you had the nerve to call my sense of humor weird?” he shrugged and hit his com “Targets are down Sam”

“Damn, we’re bringing her more often” Sam’s voice came through your ear and you laughed “Any time you two need me, you know where to find me” 

You leaned back in your seat, eyes half closed but felt Joaquin move right before his boot nudged yours. You opened your eyes and rolled your head over to look at him “What’s up Torres?”

“You know, I like having you as backup. Even if I gotta pick you up and carry you away every now and then” you rolled your eyes “Well now not all of us have a fancy set of wings to fly away with, bird boy” he grinned “They’re cool though. Right?”  

You shook your head with a laugh “They’re awesome Joaquin” his grin got even broader “I know, right? I need to get you some knives that match my suit. That way next time we’re on a mission together we match a little better. We’re all outta sync here. Sam’s in the red, white and blue. I got the green and you looking like a ninja or something with the all black” you busted out laughing “You’re something else, you know that?”

The truth was he almost reminded you of John when you first met him. Maybe more..bubblier? But still the overtalking, the joking. Maybe that was why you had fallen into such an easy friendship with him. That and the fact that Joaquin was possibly one of the sweetest men you had ever met. 

He winked at you “I’ve been told” you shook your head “Gotta admire the damn cockiness of men in the military" “Confidence sweetheart, confidence” he corrected and you groaned playfully “Depends on the man”

He nodded “Ok, you got me there” and laughed. You leaned your head back again and started to close your eyes but before you did you looked at him “Want one of my knives so you know what weight to get me?” he grinned “See? You’re thinking about matching now huh?”

John didn’t even know you were back before he heard your laughter drifting down the hallway. You were in the kitchen and he expected to find you with Yelena or Bob…hell even Alexei or Bucky. He did not expect to find you with Joaquin. 

The two of you were perched on the bar stools at the island, facing each other. There was a takeout container of fries between you that you were both pulling from and you were laughing at something the other man had said as he walked into the room.

“The mission go ok?” he asked and you looked up, eyes widening just slightly when you realized it was him. “Yeah, it went good. Even if going from fighting to flying back to fighting was a bit of a challenge” you laughed, flicking a fry towards Torres who grinned “I gotta say, for a first timer you did awesome”

You rolled your eyes but he saw the way the corners of your lips curled up like you were trying not to smile at Torres’ praise. The way you were looking at Torres… you once looked at him like that. He remembered the first deployment after he backed you up. When you cornered him and told him if he’d done that expecting anything in return you’d rather fight him then and there. When he assured you he’d simply backed you because it was the right thing to do, when he proved again and again he just wanted to back you. When the two of you always chose each other over anyone else. 

“Well I fully expect my new knives before the next mission I get pulled for bird boy” you teased, getting his attention back on you as you knocked your shoulder against Joaquin’s and that was when he noticed that Joaquin had one of your knives.

“New knives?” he asked, not really knowing if he wanted to know the answer. You laughed, finally looking back towards him “Joaquin thinks there should be a little more matching when I work with him and Sam so he’s taken it upon himself to get me a new set of knives. I lent him one of mine so he knows what weight to get”

“So, you’re gonna be working with them regularly?” he asked and you shrugged “As I’m needed” “But you're on our team?” he questioned and you raised an eyebrow “Which Sam and Joaquin are an extension of. They helped find out what happened to my unit. I liked working with them” he nodded slowly “At least you found someone you like working with” he muttered then walked out.

_____________________

Joaquin looked towards the door where John had walked out then back at you “I know we haven’t drank anything outside of water and soda. So I’m not drunk. That was really weird, wasn’t it?” you shrugged “With John? There’s no telling what’s going on with him. It’s nothing to do with you” he smiled “You sure? I don’t wanna cause no issues”

You shook your head “Of course I’m sure. I’ll be waiting on the next mission bird boy” he grinned “And I’ll have your knives ready you damn ninja” 

“Yelena, do you know what John’s issue is?” you asked as you and her lounged around her floor. You were both getting ready to call it a night but you were still curious about the way he’d acted towards Joaquin. He didn’t seem to have any issue with him when all of you went after Davidson, what was wrong with him all of a sudden?

“Walker is an asshole?” she offered and you started laughing “Besides that!” she shrugged “Don’t you know him better than me? Why are you asking me about him?” “I was gone for a day and a half with Sam and Joaquin. Did something happen?” 

“Not that I know of, why?” she questioned and you shook your head. You didn’t know how to explain it. Something was wrong with John, more than usual. He was an asshole but not normally downright cold and after him talking to you and Joaquin in the kitchen it seemed like he’d been avoiding you at every chance.

“Want me to talk to him?” she offered and you shook your head again. Her talking to him would more than likely end up with her being the one to throw a knife at him this time. “No, I’ll handle him. He’ll come around sooner or later”

Part 7

@desimarie12

@linkpk88

@prongsdotjpeg

[sonics-atelier]

Appreciation Post <33

Happy New Year fellow unhinged people, the past year has been one hell of a Rollercoaster and I'm glad I got to share it with everyone I love. I've made so many amazing friends and I'd like to tell them how appreciated, loved and cherished there are, hence this post. Wishing everyone so much happiness and success in this year and I hope your days go by filled with peace and joy, I love all of you very much 💗. ( Apologies for being late )

@shadowqueenjude - My Wife, My Love, You are charismatic, powerful, stubborn ( ily for that btw ), passionate and so damn hard working. I am the luckiest person on earth to have you as my confidant ( still dont know that i did to deserve you ). I remember last year when I randomly dmed you to vent about the fandom and you understood me so well, and how I stayed up till 4 am just to talk to you and how I had been searching all my life for someone like you and we found each other like it was always meant to be. The rest is history. We've been through sm together and never once has my love for wavered. You're just that amazing. I am yours, for now and ever. Keep being amazing 💕

@decadentpostnacho - Meri Jaan, You walked into my life and you were like the missing puzzle piece that instantly fit into my life and heart ( destiny fr ) You are the fuzzy green blanket I can wrap myself in when things get too much ( you're entire presence is calming ✨️ ). You're one of the most kindhearted and beautiful people I've ever known. We were put on this earth to find our ways back to each other ( long live the teatectives ). I love you more than words can ever express 💖

@mintedwitcher - I LOVE YOU. you are so fucking brave and amazing and I've come to cherish everything about you, I'm so grateful that cherik brought us together. Our late night conversations about our Headcanons and wips and your ability to make me sob have been the highlight of my year, ty for making things bearable and for going above and beyond for me, I will hold you dear always 💕

@achaotichuman - At the risk of repeating myself, you're a great person and an even better friend. You've been there when I've needed you most, you've been kind, understanding and unapologetically honest ( which i love ) and for being an amazing writer ( kaimond *sobs* ) and for all the amazing recs. I hold all our unhinged convos close to my heart. Thank you for being yourself 🫶

@matrixsss - YOU ARE PHENOMENAL. Becoming mutuals then friends with you was one of the best decisions I made this year. You're so talented and kind I am over the moon how our vibes match instantly ✨️. Thank you for being someone whom I could rely on and being the personification of comfort. ( we're Kakashi and might guy coded lmao ) Ilysm ( I'll always be there for you ) 🥺💗

@yaralulu - ILY, you're so sweet and fun to talk to. I AM IN LOVE with your writing. Getting to know you and becoming friends was by far one of the best things to happen in 2024. I adore your sense of humor and how you're able to be both sweet and sassy, like 🤌. tysm for dealing with my screaming about itwv ( I still need therapy btw ) and being awesome. Keep slaying ✨️

@praetorqueenreyna - MOTHER, I still remember how I screamed when I saw we were mutuals ( yes I'm an unashamed fangirl ). Thank you so much for introducing me to so many amazing fandoms like iwtv and the captive prince. You are a treasure and I love you so so so much. You're quite literally a role model. ( also tysm for holding my stupid ass back from doing things that would get me cancelled ) KEEP BEING THE ICON YOU ARE 💕

@highlordofkrypton - Awesome falls short for how awesome you are ( I'm lame Ik ). The way we instantly connected and then proceeded to bitch about a situation was the best bonding experience ever. I am in awe of how great of a writer you are. Your stories have me by the throat and what I love most about it is how you include cultures and history and motives in it, It means so much to me. You're an amazing friend ( I am so sorry for all the times I was ready to go to war and you had to keep me in check 😭 ) your intuition is always right, you're multitalented ( an artist now too !!! ). All hail agent Reacher 💗

@thegolden-tigeress - Shree, My Sweetheart, I love you to Saturn and back. Thank you for being the shoulder I could cry on and always uplifting me even I'm going through things. I don't know how I can ever thank you enough for that. You're invaluable to me. My life has been lit ( pun intended ) ever since you walked in it. Tysm for making me laugh, for loving my writing and for always having my back. I couldn't have asked for a better friend 🥺💗💗

@watcherintheweyr - SOULMATE, Oh how I love you, I was so elated that we share sm fandoms and interests. It's usually very hard for me to become friends and then have that bond stay strong but you've proven me wrong. I usually never took the initiative of caring about things happening in people's lives but for you I changed all that. You are like the elder sister I never had, you understand me so well and I love you sm ( totally didn't fall for you just because you had horses ). You're an amazing writer too, I'm OBSESSED with your wordlbuilding and ocs 🛐. I vow to be your hua cheng for eternity. Shine like the star you are Vira, ily forever 💗

[khywren]

🎉 Time for some Self-Positivity! 🎉 

🌟 What's a scene or line you wrote that still makes you smile when you reread it? ✍️ What's something you've improved on in your writing journey? 👀 Share a link to a fic of yours that you think deserves more love!

Answer these questions, and send this to 5 writers who inspire you ❤️

@obsessedwhyyes, @deadly-diminuendo, @vividiana. @honeybee-bard, @inkymoonbunny, @arzen9, @hellethil 😭😭😭 a HUGE thanks to those of you who sent me one of these; i was gonna respond to them all individually but you all showered me in so much love that i decided to just compile everything into one big post instead and give a few answers for each question. while we're on the topic of positivity, thank you all so much for making this fandom such a delight to be a part of! i am hugging each and every one of you.

what's a scene or line you wrote that still makes you smile when you reread it?

“That doesn't mean I still can't ask you to be mine,” he says softly, eyes tracking the flush that creeps across her cheeks and stains the tips of her ears a vibrant shade of pink. His expression has grown soft again, vulnerable in a way that he has never been with anyone but her. “You will, won't you, darling?”

from my fluffy little holiday fic, frost and flame. after putting these two through so much, i'm glad i was able to give them something soft for a change. it was also my first real experience with writing so much fluff, which was fun!

Footsteps echo on the stone floor nearby as another figure alights behind her, and relief washes over Ysera as Astarion's cool hand rests on her shoulder. “On your feet, darling. I know we aren't currently on the best of terms, but dying just to spite me is a little petty, wouldn't you agree?”

this is from an unpublished act 2 chapter of adrift. i probably have another 11 or so chapters before we get here, but i'm very excited about this scene.

“She sat with me until sundown and made sure that we – that I – had somewhere safe to go,” Astarion continues. His smile turns sardonic as he adds, “In that moment, all I could think of was how weak and ashamed I felt, and she never made me apologize for any of it. She never has. I've never understood why.” ... Gale fixes Astarion with a knowing look and rests his hand on Astarion’s shoulder. “She loves you, Astarion. What other reason does she need?”

from the most recent chapter of my kinktober fic. i hate that we can't run after astarion on the docks. i'm sure a lot of us would have done anything to go sit with him and bring him some comfort. 😭

what's something you've improved on in your writing journey?

a lot, i'd like to think! but here are a few standouts:

i think i've found my voice and a style that i'm (mostly) happy with. that goes a long way towards...

being more confident with my writing. i still get nervous every time i publish something, but it's not as bad as it was when i was an itty-bitty baby fic writer back in 2023.

giving my characters more personality and letting them be the dumbasses they were destined to be. i know humor is very subjective, but i'm getting more comfortable with the mindset of, "well, i think this is funny, so i'm writing it." i owe a lot of that to @nerdallwritey, whose humor both inside and outside of fanfic has greatly inspired me!

learning from other writers. i've been trying to read more this year to improve my writing, and i can't say if that's helped yet or not, but i've also learned a lot from my fellow fic writers! i love reading someone else's fic and being inspired to drive right back into my own drafts to try out some of the things i loved from their work. honestly, i could write an essay on each and every one of my beloved moots and aspects of their writing i admire, but then we'd be here all day.

share a link to a fic of yours that you think deserves more love!

mist and shadow - my baby, my magnum opus, my absolute pride and joy. i genuinely think i cooked with this one. i LOVE the ideas that i got to play with here and i am so proud of it. i can't wait to tackle some of it from ysera's point of view when we get there in the longfic.

frost and flame - if you enjoyed the snippet i posted above, i think you'd really like this one! it's nothing but sweet, sappy fluff, but i'd be lying if i didn't say this was also one of my favorites.

adrift - ah yes, my poor, neglected longfic. this one's my own fault for not updating it in so long, but i'm really excited about ysera's story and some of the things i have planned for later down the road!

denouement - i think this is probably my best (and favorite) x reader fic. it popped off fairly well here on tumblr way back when, but i still want to give it a shoutout anyway because it's got most of the hallmarks of my writing, including the emotional smut i can never seem to get enough of.

[kark-trooper-echo]

Heya!

I just wanted to say hi, and say thanks. I once bothered you a while ago as a shy Anon, for some humor and something to smile about because I was in a pretty hard place.

I’m the gal who was looking at possible bio-cybernetic prosthetics going in my skull for fixing my glitchy nerves and balance system, and you’d asked me to keep in touch, so here i am.

I feel bad in hindsight for dropping such a heavy thing on you out of the blue, and I just wanted you to know I’ve always been very grateful you took the time to humor me. It really did make my life at that time, that bit more bearable. I’ve learned to enjoy the little things, that really don’t feel so little really.

I still struggle, my symptoms aren’t ever going to go away, but I’ve made a lot of life changes for the better. Keep being you and being yourself, you’re awesome.

(To both Echo, and his lovely writer. Thank you. ❤️)

Sharing something like this, even as an anon, can't have been easy. Don't worry. I wasn't bothered. Believe it or not, this isn't even the heaviest topic I've seen here. But it was one of the most relatable. I've been hoping you were doing well.

The daily struggles can certainly grind your gears. (You asked for cyborg humor!) But you've learned the trick of dealing with them. Those little things make all the difference.

Your art has lifted my mood a few times. I'm glad I was able to return the favor. Now that I know who you are, you're not getting away with 16-month bouts of radio silence. I'm expecting you to report in more often. Understood?

[spaceorphan18]

You said you saw Deadpool & Wolverine - how did you like it?

Oohh, thanks Nonny! I had been planning on writing my thoughts! :)

I liked it!

I thought it was a very apt bridge between the old Fox films and Deadpool coming into the MCU.

I'm not a huge fan of uber violent things but something I appreciate about the Deadpool films (and Ryan Reynolds' brand of 12yo humor) is that behind it all is a lot of heart. And this film retained that, through all the crudeness, the point is that ultimately, Deadpool/Wade is a really good guy. And I can respect that.

Getting into specifics... which are very spoiler-y

I thought the plot itself was very thin, and this whole thing probably works better as a bunch of sketches, but it's fine. I was never asking for a lot from this film, and it did the only thing I was really asking of it, which was provide entertainment and get Deadpool into the MCU.

I appreciate that they really didn't shit on Logan's legacy while bringing Hugh Jackman back. Jackman seemed to be having a good time of it, which I'm glad to see.

Btw, loved all the musical jokes we got in this! Loved it.

I LOVED the montage of various Wolverines -- I understood most of the references! Yay me for reading X-Men comics for so long!!

The Henry Cavill cameo? Perfect.

I'm not surprised we didn't see a lot of Wade's family and friends, but it is sad they got such a small amount of screen time.

Ooff, Vanessa continues to be the one really weak piece of this whole thing. Does the actress not want to be there? Does she have limited time? Why is her character always being reduced to love interest whom Wade does everything for but there's no development of her character? Idk.

The TVA stuff is fine. I feel like it's so convoluted now that it doesn't really matter that it ultimately doesn't make much sense. I do think the MCU needs to start moving away from the multiverse stuff. It's just getting too mucky and it's lost focus.

Oh, why is Thor holding Deadpool, I'm sure it was just a gag, but oh god would it be hilarious if they brought it back at some point.

The Happy stuff. It's always great to see him, but how did Deadpool end up in the main universe? Why am I even questioning this?

Cracked me up that they hid Peter's face in that picture. Can't give Sony any more money than necessary.

Oh, in general, I love LOVED all the fourth wall breaks. This is why I watch Deadpool movies.

Cassandra Nova was fine as a villain. The actress was great! She just feels... a little too seriously evil to be in this comedy movie. Idk.

All the returning c-list villains were fun!

Having Chris Evans return as Johnny Strom was a brilliant move and I loved it. Having him just be the opposite of Steve Rogers on top of it was hilarious. Perfect use of a cameo, film.

Wesley Snipes returning as Blade. Goddamn. I'm kinda surprised he agreed to do it!

Great to see Jennifer Garner return as Elektra. I'm kinda glad I made myself watch all those marvel movies (which I still need to finish...) I appreciate this cameo more (and the dig at Daredevil).

Yay Laura returning! Could have always used more of her, but she did what she needed to.

Okay. Okay, let's talk about it. Let's talk about Channing Tatum as Gambit...

The Pros : The accent was fun, the way they used his powers was fantastic and original, they didn't make him the butt of jokes or treat him like a joke, there was a general respect for the character overall and I really, really, appreciate that being a Gambit fan

The Cons : Look, I have nothing against Tatum personally. He just doesn't look right. He's too think in body shape (not meant in a derogatory way), and his face just doesn't work in the headsock. Not to mention the costume looked plastic and cheap.

I really hope Gambit is back, but can we have Tatum as Gambit here like we had JKras as Mr. Fantastic in Dr. Strange? Just a one time fun gag? Please??

Remy is having a really good year despite dying everywhere.

The Deadpool squad (or whatever) I'm afraid I haven't read enough Deadpool to really get it, but it was fun. The side scrolling action sequence reminded me of a video game. And honestly, Wolverine with his cowl on, just kind of loosely moving reminded me of a video game as well.

I'm super curious to see how Deadpool plays within the MCU now. Let's go for it.

The credits were a nice touch. I'm glad they could honor those films for what they did, and I'm glad we can now move on from them.

Tl:dr it was fun and I liked it! :)

[justmystyles]

Hey, you are literally one of my favorite writers out here. I honestly love every piece you've written, it's just all really really really good. (guess I am not as good with words as you, oops)

Anyway, I am so glad your requests are open. I was wondering if you could write something where the reader comes from a difficult family. emotionally abusive mother, distant father, eldest daughter syndrome, all that jazz.

So she's sort of moved away but still keeps in touch with her family cuz she does sorta love them but it's hard. So it's like she's got some body image issues and she's closed off, pretty funny but likes to use humor to hide her feelings, has a lot of acquaintances but doesn't like sharing herself with people much (why do I feel like I am describing someone specific lol)

And one day it all just becomes too much ig. I don't know exactly how the story goes, guess I am just looking for some comfort. had a weird few days.

Honestly, love you work. You're great. Thank you for reading that bs. Doesn't matter much if you decide to write it or not. You're already perfect. <3

Let's talk about this ask I got a few weeks ago, shall we?

First of all, I am honored to be considered one of your favorite writers on here, your words are so sweet and I love you.

Now, getting down to business, this ask genuinely made me cry because I know this reader. I am this reader and it was truly terrifying that a stranger on the internet described me so well to me. As soon as I read this, I knew it was going to be my next series, and after weeks of taking down notes and ideas, I finally started actually writing it today.

It'll still be a bit before I start putting it out there, this premise means so much to me that I want to really take my time and do it the justice it deserves, but I have included a little teaser for you below the read more so that you can get a taste of what I'm working on. I've also tagged my tag list peeps so that you all can see what I've been up to.

I'll still be working on NYIML and the other asks I have (if you sent me one, I love you and I'm working on it, please be patient, life has kind of blown up over the last week or so).

You would watch on in awe, watching the music come to life, watching Harry work. From time to time, you would meet his gaze, noticing a softness in his eyes that warmed your insides. You brushed your feelings off, reminding yourself that Harry was just a kind person. He probably looked at everyone like that. He would often invite you to join the group for lunch, or drinks after a successful session. You always declined politely, certain he was just asking to be polite. 

But Harry wasn’t just asking to be polite, and those looks that he threw in your direction were different than the way he would look at anyone else. He was fascinated by you, he felt like he needed to know more. When he met you, he thought you were beautiful, and the refreshments that you had laid out showed how kind and thoughtful you were. But he knew there was more to you, and he couldn’t wait to find out all of it.

You truly were the studio mom, always making sure everyone had what they needed. You would bring coffee and breakfast in the morning, make everyone’s lunch orders, or reservations if they decided to go out. But you would never join them. He found that curious, but also disappointing. He understood if you wanted to focus on work while you were all locked away in the studio, hoping to take those lunches and extra curricular times to get to know you, but those moments never came. 

He had asked your coworkers about you, hoping to gain some kind of intel that could help him break the ice. Everyone told him how sweet you were, always asking about them and their goings on, but often changing the subject when the conversation would turn to you. He also learned about how funny you were. He would have never guessed, based on how quiet you’d been around him. He figured some of that was because of his celebrity status, he was used to people being shy around him, but they would typically warm up over time. You hadn’t. 

There was a bit of worry in his mind that maybe you had an issue with him. You weren’t cold with him, you had always been incredibly kind in your interactions with him and that threw him for a loop. He racked his brain, trying to think of anything he might have said or done to upset you, but nothing came to mind. Perhaps you just weren’t a fan of his? Whatever it was, he was determined to figure it out. 

One afternoon, he was coming back from lunch and he overheard you talking to someone in one of the studios. He lingered by the doorway, he knew eavesdropping was wrong, but he was desperate. 

The conversation wasn’t much, you were just talking about a television show, but he heard the excitement in your voice and couldn’t help but smile. You sounded so cute. And then you laughed, and he could have died right there on the spot. You had an incredible laugh. He wanted to do anything to be the reason that beautiful sound came out of your mouth. 

Harry was so distracted that he didn’t notice that you were coming out of the studio. You weren’t expecting anyone to be standing there, so you bumped right into him. 

“Oh my gosh, I am so sorry Harry.” Your eyes were wide with panic.

He put his hands on your shoulders to steady you. “Don’t be. That was on me. It’s what I get for zoning off in front of doors.” He chuckled. 

You smiled politely and nodded at him. “Are you okay? Do you need anything?” 

“I was actually hoping to talk–”

He was interrupted by the ring of your phone. You pulled it out of your pocket and saw your mother’s name flash across the screen. “Crap, I’m so sorry it’s my mom. Do you mind if I take this?”

“No, not at all. You should always take calls from your mum.” 

“Right,” you scoff. “You’ve never talked to my mother.” You answer the phone, walking away quickly. 

He noticed your posture stiffen when you answered, and he hoped everything was okay. Once you were out of sight, he left, returning to the studio. “Y/N is taking a phone call, she’ll be right back.” 

When you finally returned, you apologized with a smile on your face, but Harry could see the sadness in your eyes. You took a seat at the computer, and he came up behind you, placing his hand softly on your back. You subconsciously relaxed into his touch. 

“Is everything alright?” He asked. 

You put on your best fake smile, which he immediately saw though. “Yeah, thanks.” 

He wanted to press, but he knew it wasn’t the right time or place. He also wasn’t totally sure you even liked him.

@allthelovehes @ameerakane20 @ash-craze @bethanysnow @blue-ballad @blueraspberryreader @brightlightsinlife @creativelyeva @cute-as-ducks420 @deannaard @fanficismydrug @gem1712 @golden-hoax @gothmingguk @groovychaosavenue @hillzrry @iceebabies @indierockgirrl @jerseygirlinca @jng4kook @jooniesbabie @kaverichauhan @laurxn-robinson @lexiecamposv @likeapplejuicenpeach @lilfreakjez @mrs-anna-styles211994 @n0vaj3an @potterheadandsherlocked @rach2699 @ravenclawdirectioner @stylesfeverr @superchrystaldrug @tenaciousperfectionunknown @tiaamberxx @thechaoticjoy @theekyliepage @walkingintheheartbreaksatellite @youknowwhaaat

[overlordzeffeero]

Mavado Bio

Born to two members of the Red Dragon clan, Cruella and Maquiavelo. Mavado was given what the clan considered an ideal childhood, being prepared to be a loyal and effective agent of the clan by his parents and the clan’s trainers. He proved to have impressive skills when he grew up, managing to rise in ranks and even catch the attention of Lord Daegon himself.

Mavado’s father died when he was still young, killed in one of the rare instances in which the Black Dragon clan managed to get a victory over the Red Dragon clan in a confrontation. This left Mavado and his mother angered and frustrated, incapable of believing they had lost one of their loved ones to that clan of indisciplined, treacherous bastards. Daegon was able to notice the hard moment Mavado’s was going through, and he understood it. The circumstances may have been extremely different, but he had also lost his family. He decided to go and speak with him, in one of the very rare occasions in which the leader of the Red Dragon clan left his professionalism and coldness behind and opened himself emotionally.

Daegon told Mavado that he knew what he was feeling, and also confessed to him that he saw the Red Dragon as a new family, and that he hoped Mavado would eventually see it like that too. He even told Mavado they could speak at any time if it helped him. Both Mavado and his mother, who had also been trying to comfort her son as best as she could, were deeply thankful for how their leader had taken part of his time to help him, which only made them more loyal.

Mavado started dedicating himself to the clan even more, eventually growing to see the whole clan as his family like Daegon had suggested. His skills and dedication also earned quite a privileged place as the second in command of the entire clan, much to the pride of both Cruella and Daegon. With this rise in authority, Mavado wasted no time to dedicate more resources of the clan in a personal mission: the complete extermination of the Black Dragon.

Daegon has noticed Mavado’s initiative, while partly motivated to get the Red Dragon rid of the nuisance which is that group of traitors, is also greatly motivated by his personal desire for the revenge, which is usually considered too unprofessional for a member of the clan. But Daegon, who has grown to see Mavado as a little brother (and is definitely closer to him than with any of his blood brothers), simply turns a blind eye and lets him continue while he keeps serving the clan effectively despite his personal mission.

Mavado is currently a quite feared name among Black Dragon members due to how many of them he has killed, usually in painful ways. He’s been given the nickname of ‘The Black Dragon’s Boogeyman’ to add some humor to that fact, but every Black Dragon still knows that if they actually see him they must run away for their lives. You can be sure Mavado enjoys how much those worthless criminals fear him, it’s actually one of his favourite things.

Dutiful, professional, dedicated and a snarky bastard. Mavado is a nightmare to every enemy of the Red Dragon clan.

Also biblically (more) accurate:

And here we have my first take in a playable character, and I am very glad it was Mavado! 🥳

[say-hwaet]

HIGH SIERRA: a RED DEAD REDEMPTION STORY

Chapter Five: A Leap of Faith Word Count: ~3,700 Next Chapter: Six

Hosea Matthews leans back in his favorite porch chair and elevates his feet on the railing. He turns a page in one of his favorite books, A Farewell to Arms, by Earnest Hemingway. He can hear the radio playing some old tunes from within the house, Bessie has always liked to keep the windows open, rather than use the AC. He doesn’t mind.

As he turns another page, he can hear a car coming up their long driveway. Lowering his feet and correcting his posture, he looks out into the clearing beyond the trees. Waiting for a moment, he soon sees the familiar blue SUV.

"Bessie?" he calls.

He hears footsteps and the screen door opens. "What is it, dear?"

"You might want to plan on making extra for dinner."

She looks out and sees her son's car and beams. "That shouldn't be a problem!" She waves excitedly at the car and walks down the steps of the porch to meet it, disregarding the fact that she has no shoes on. Hosea chuckles, shaking his head.

The car comes to a stop. Before Arthur can turn off the engine, Isaac bolts out of the car and runs into the arms of his grandmother. She holds him tightly and gives him multiple kisses on his fuzzy head.

"Hiya, Grammie!"

"Hello, baby! How is my favorite grandson?"

He looks up at her, his cheeks ruddy and pinchable. "Grammie, I am your only grandson!"

She feigns surprise, tapping her head with her fingers. "Oh, that's right! But can you still be my favorite?"

"Sure, Grammie,” the boy chuckles, a warmth in his voice that humors her.

She lets him out of her embrace and exaggerates a dramatic sigh. "Oh, thank you! I'm so relieved!"

Isaac giggles again and hugs himself bashfully. Arthur, after watching the exchange, comes out of the car and lets Copper out of the back. Once released, Copper runs up to Isaac and Bessie, does circles around them, then goes off to sniff for squirrels and other wildlife beyond the borders of the fence line.

"Hello, Mom," Arthur greets her as he leans over and kisses her on the cheek.

She pats his chest lovingly, the wrinkles around her eyes more prominent when she grins from ear to ear. "Hello, son. We didn't think you'd be coming over today!"

Arthur shrugs, his face grimacing apologetically. "I'm sorry, should I have called ahead?"

"No. It's no trouble." She claps a hand on Isaac's shoulder and gives it a gentle squeeze. "We're so glad to have you here!"

Arthur looks up to see Hosea on the porch with a book in hand. "Hey, Dad."

Hosea waves. "Hey, son. How was work today?"

Arthur begins to walk the rest of the driveway and up the stairs to meet his father on the porch. Bessie and Isaac soon follow. He thinks about the events that transpired earlier today, and feels the weight of them again after just trying to forget them, even for a little while. "It was...something."

Hosea leans forward, his eyes peeking over the railing and brows raised. "Oh?"

Arthur tenses a little, and they lock eyes as he scratches the back of his head. "Yeah, I can't really talk about it."

"Understood." Hosea rises to his feet. "Why don't we all go inside? Bessie was about to get dinner started."

"Sounds good, Dad."

Hosea leads the small group inside. The air smells like fresh gardenias and honeysuckle. To Arthur, it smells like home.

"You boys want something to drink?" Bessie asks and she passes by them in the direction of the kitchen. Hosea sits down in his favorite leather chair. Arthur sits down on the couch adjacent to Hosea and Isaac immediately finds a place next to him.

The house has hardly changed since he was a boy. Sure there are a few things here and there, but Bessie has maintained the aesthetic faithfully. It is more cottage-like, as though one were stepping into a Victorian home at the turn of the century, with a few modern commodities.

It had been good for Arthur to be raised here. In the quiet, away from the city. He could step outside and go horseback riding, or sit under the pine trees and draw to his heart’s content. He didn’t require much, just the love that he was never given by his father, and not long enough from his mother.

Arthur looks up at Bessie and nods his head softly. "Water is fine, Mom. For me and the boy."

"Do you have lemonade, Grammie?" Isaac asks hopefully.

Arthur gently taps his son’s arm, shaking his head. "No, Isaac. You can't have that right now..."

It hurts Arthur to see the disappointment on his face. If any other child were to make such a request, it wouldn’t be that big of a deal, but he isn’t. "Why?"

"You can't have sugar for a while,” he answers plainly.

Isaac is now used to being told what he can and can’t do. It has been this way for the past two years. It has also been hard for him, and both Eliza and Arthur wish that it wasn't.

Isaac doesn't say anything, but leans into Arthur and lays on his arm.

"I didn't know he couldn't have sugar," Bessie responds apologetically.

Arthur looks up at his concerned mother and tries to be subtle. "It's new. He is being placed on a new treatment."

Bessie gasps softly. "Oh my."

"I'll talk to you about it later, Mom."

Bessie nods, leaving for the kitchen.

"So what can he have? We were planning on burgers for dinner," Hosea inquires.

Sparing the details, Arthur lists the forbidden items. "No pork, red meat, or sugar. Limited starches and dairy."

"That's it?"

"Pretty much. It clashes with his new medicine."

Hosea’s brow pinches as he leans back in his chair. "I thought that was grapefruit."

"That does happen, yes. But not with his."

Hosea nods, processing this new information. "Okay. We should have some ground turkey. We can make turkey burgers."

Arthur is grateful that they are quick to accommodate his son. Even if he didn’t have a rare form of cancer, they’d still bend over backwards for him. "Sounds good."

Hosea rises slowly out of his chair. "Let me go and tell Bessie.” Then he chuckles. “She's got her radio volume turned on too high." After stretching for a brief moment, he leaves the room.

Arthur looks over to his left arm and sees the saddened Isaac. "You okay, buddy?"

Isaac only nods his head, which isn't very convincing.

Arthur wraps an arm around his son, and pulls him close, giving him a little shake. "C'mon, let's say we go to the stables? I haven't seen Boadicea in a while." Arthur begins to get off the couch slowly and Isaac moves out of the way.

Isaac sighs, "Okay."

Arthur, now on his feet, extends his hand to Isaac, who takes it. Arthur helps pull Isaac to his feet and they both start to walk to the front door.

Arthur calls out into the kitchen from behind him. "Dad, we're gonna go see the horses!"

He doesn’t wait for an answer, and reaching the door first, he lets his son out. Following close behind, they head across the porch and walk down the steps. Upon hearing the noise they're making, Copper comes out of some bushes and catches up with them.

Arthur bends down to pat the dog as he runs on by. "Hey, boy! Let's go!"

The stables aren't too far off, as they can be easily seen from the front porch. Hosea and Bessie own 40 acres of fields and woods, a majority of it being for the horses they raise and riding classes they teach seasonally. They will be starting again soon, as children often take riding classes in the summer.

Horseback riding was a favorite pastime of Isaac's as it not only allowed him time with his family, but he felt free. Since being sick, he has rarely got to do those sorts of things, as his treatments take priority.

But when Eliza mentioned the treatment, it is possible that it could allow some leniency for more "dangerous" activities.

On the way to the stables, Isaac has remained silent, with his eyes cast downward.

And, of course, Arthur is concerned. "What's wrong, bud?"

Isaac shrugs? The grass shuffling under each of his steps. "Just tired."

"You weren't so tired just a minute ago. What's going on?"

"It's nothing."

Arthur lowers his voice, trying his best to conceal his smile. "You ain’t a good liar, son."

Suddenly, Isaac stood and whips around, his eyes intensely glaring. "I am not lying!"

Isaac's tone surprises Arthur and so he stops walking and kneels in front of his son. Upon further inspection, he sees Isaac begin to cry. "Hey, now," he brings his son into his arms and hugs him. "It's okay. It's okay." He lets him cry for a minute before releasing the boy from his embrace and holds him out in front of him. "What is it, son?"

Isaac sniffs, wiping tears with the heel of his palm. "Will I ever get better, Daddy?"

He doesn’t want to lie, but he isn’t sure of the truth. It is all in the air right now, but things are more grim than they are sunshine. "Of course, you will. It will just take time, is all. Cancer is an enemy that I can't shoot or kill. The doctors help your body to do that."

Isaac nods, his lips trembling as he speaks. "I know Mommy cries. She tries hard to hide it from me, but she cries. She tried extra hard today, so I know the cancer isn't gone."

Isaac is a very perceptive boy. Arthur wonders if he heard their conversation earlier, for that would also explain his reaction when Arthur lightly explained the treatment to Hosea. "She's just scared, is all. Cancer is a serious thing, there's no hiding that."

Isaac blinks, a solitary tear trickling down his cheek. "Adults can be scared?"

"Of course, they can. They're people, ain’t they?"

Isaac sniffs, smiling bittersweetly. "Yeah."

And Arthur mirrors the smile, taking his son by the arms. "Shoah. And that just tells you how much she loves you."

Isaac only nods, wiping his eyes.

Arthur gestures toward the stables, which are just a few yards away. "You wanna keep going?"

"Uh huh," Isaac affirms and they continue on their way.

Reaching the stables and the attached fenced-in pasture, Arthur whistles a distinct tune. Waiting a moment, he hears a whinny, and from the distance, a beautiful liver chestnut Hungarian Half Bred comes galloping up. Arthur smiles, glad that Boadicea remembers his call.

When she approaches the fence, Arthur goes in between the beams and into the pasture. He walks up to his mare and pats her neck. "Long time, girl!"

She shakes her head and her mane falls over her eyes and forelock. Taking some mane, he hoists himself on her bare back and gets a feel of being on a horse again.

"Oh, this takes me back," he sighs as he takes in the scenery. He thinks on times when they were easier, when he didn’t have to think of bills, forest fires, or SAUs. He had heard the warning from Hosea to not wish years away, and he is feeling that repercussion now.

He looks down and sees Isaac crawl under the fence and slowly approach him. Arthur holds his hand out to him. "Come here, son, I'll help you up."

Isaac hesitates. It has been a while since he has been on a horse, and his mother has continuously told him to not do dangerous things.

Arthur can see the cognitive dissonance on his son's face. "It's alright, son."

After another moment, Isaac walks over and Arthur swoops down and picks him up with one arm, setting Isaac right in front of him. He’s lighter than he used to be…or should be.

"Now, take her mane like this," he instructs as he guides Isaac's hands. Isaac grabs some of Boadicea's mane and holds tight. Arthur holds onto Isaac with his left arm. "Ready?"

Isaac nods, and Arthur gives Boadicea a gentle kick. She starts to move and Arthur helps Isaac steer her away from the fence.

They take it slow and Arthur takes in the scenery for a moment. Looking down at Isaac, he sees he too is observing their surroundings.

"It's a beautiful country, ain't it?"

"Uh-huh."

Arthur points toward a trail in between the trees. "Remember the trails we used to ride up here? Your mama even came out here sometimes, remember?"

Isaac replies with the same, "Uh-huh."

"What was that horse's name, the one you used to ride?"

"Titan."

Arthur clicks his tongue. "Titan, that's right. He was a brute, wasn't he? But always gentle with you. I bet Grandpa still has him. Maybe we can go on a real ride and you can take him later?"

"Maybe."

Arthur holds Isaac tighter and urges Boadicea to trot. She snorts excitedly. Isaac sits up more, expectantly. "You good?"

"Yeah." Arthur can detect the hint of joy in his voice, and he smiles. They continue this speed for a moment. "Daddy?"

"Yes?"

"Can we go faster?"

There is the Isaac Arthur knows. He kicks again and Boadicea canters. He doesn't want to go any faster than this, but at least it is thrilling enough for a sick boy.

Isaac giggles excitedly, the trees becoming more of a blur as they go by the air feels cooler against his skin, and goosebumps rise on his arms. This is the most thrilling thing he’s experienced in months, years, even.

They come to the edge of the pasture and see the fence in the distance.

Isaac’s eyes widen with excitement. "Let's jump, Daddy!"

Arthur holds tightly onto his son, his brows lifting. "Are you sure?"

"Yes, Daddy, I wanna jump!"

Arthur kicks, and Boadicea gains speed. The energy builds between them and Isaac squeals with delight as the space closes between them and the fence. "Here we go!" Arthur cheers.

Boadicea lifts her forelimbs and gracefully jumps over the fence and they make a sturdy landing on the other side. Isaac jolts forward, which scares him. He gasps.

Arthur feels instant regret. Maybe he should have refused Isaac’s request. "You okay?"

But Isaac nods, his voice bubbling with delight. "Yeah. It scared me. I thought I was gonna fall off!"

Arthur pats his son’s torso. "I got you, buddy. I won't let you fall."

"Okay, Daddy."

Arthur slows Boadicea down, and she walks. They continue to ride for a little while, Arthur occasionally pointing out wildlife that Isaac can identify.

An hour passes, and Arthur hears an echo in the distance.

It sounds like a loud chime. Then he remembers.

It's his mother's dinner bell. "It's dinnertime," Arthur says.

"How can you tell?" Isaac asks, looking into the distance where the sound comes from.

"You hear that, right?"

Isaac nods, his head turned in the direction of the sound. "Yeah."

"That's your grandma. She's ringing a dinner bell."

"Why?"

"We're far way, we can't hear her otherwise."

"Oh. I am kinda hungry."

Arthur chuckles. "So am I. Let's put Boadicea in the stables and head back, okay?"

"Okay."

Arthur turns Boadicea around and with a clicking sound from his mouth, Boadicea trots in the direction of the stables.

***

At the back patio, Arthur sits with his family at the table. He has missed his mother's cooking and is surprised at how delicious the turkey burgers are. He licks his fingers as he finishes a second one.

Bessie chuckles as she passes potato salad over to her husband. "Arthur, don't eat the flowers, there's plenty more if you want them."

Arthur holds up a palm. "Oh, no, Mom. I should probably stop at two. They were delicious."

"I'm glad you liked them," she smiles as she begins to take the glass pitcher. "I'll be right back, I'm just going to get some more water." She begins to head back inside.

"So," Hosea begins, leaning back into his chair. "What are your plans for tomorrow?"

Arthur blinks and lifts his brow. "Plans?"

"Well, sure! Horseback riding? Fishing? Dig holes, what?"

Isaac giggles, mouth full of fresh-cut fries.

Arthur looks over at him and pokes his shoulder. "Isaac, chew with your mouth closed."

"That's what Mommy says all the time." Isaac takes another fry and dips it in mustard.

Arthur shakes his head and turns to Hosea. "I thought we'd just see how things go. Do you still have Titan?"

Hosea tilts his head. "The quarter horse? Sure, we do! He's getting on in years, but he makes a great trail rider. Did you want to take him out?"

Arthur nods as he hands his son another napkin. "Yeah, for Isaac. I did think we could go on a day ride tomorrow. You want to join us?"

"I might be able to. We'll have to see what your mother has in store. She's always got some project she needs help with."

"I know,” Arthur chuckles, thinking on all the other times she had set herself on a long-term project. She has always had the need to keep busy, as if being a veterinarian, and horse riding instructor wasn’t enough. “What's it this time?"

Hosea leans forward, resting his elbows on the table as he tries to suppress his laughter. He wants to build up Arthur’s curiosity before sharing all of it. "Have you heard of those she-sheds?"

Arthur snorts, "Yes. She's wanting one of those?"

"Yes. We got all the materials yesterday. She is intent on building it herself, but I know that she will be asking me for help soon enough."

Arthur nods, patting his leg in humor. "Shoah."

Suddenly, Bessie comes back out without the pitcher, but with a cellphone. "Hosea, phone call for you."

"Who?"

"It's John."

Hosea’s eyes light up. "Oh! Bring it here."

"Uncle John!" Isaac cheers.

Bessie comes over and hands Hosea the phone. She heads back in to retrieve the pitcher she left behind.

Bringing the phone to his ear, Hosea greets his caller. "Hey, John! How are you doing?...I'm fine. I've got my boys here with me, and we've just finished dinner...Yes, it's Arthur and Isaac...Perfect? Why?...Oh!...Well, that's great!...A cookout? Sure!...Yeah, I'll tell them, It'll be great...Oh, sure, tell Abigail and Jack that we say 'hi!'...Bye now!"

And he hangs up.

And Arthur’s curiosity is piqued. "So, what did golden boy John have to say?"

"John and his band are going to be going on their first tour, and are having a cookout to say goodbye."

Arthur lifts his brow. He had figured things would take a while before John and his band ever gained popularity. "That quick, huh?"

Hosea shrugs. "Well, it was only a few weeks ago that The Outlaws signed their contract with that record label, whatever its name was."

Arthur remembers, nodding his head. "The music executive's name was Trelawny."

"That's right. He was in showbusiness, before switching, right?"

Arthur shrugs. "Something like that."

Hosea waves it off, it isn’t that important to the conversation right now. "Anyway, the cookout is this Sunday. It will be a small gathering."

"How is Abigail taking all this?"

"As well as can be expected. She's always been worried about John."

True. Ever since high school, Abigail has always done her best to keep the rebellious John in line, but that doesn’t mean that she never had a rebellious streak, either. "Well, she's supported his dream all these years. Balancing her nursing career, raising a son, and a husband, can be challenging at times,” Arthur laughs.

"Don't be so hard on John. He's like a brother to you."

Arthur lifts up his hands, surrendering the jokes for now. "Yeah, I know."

After a moment, Hosea points at Arthur, a gleam in his eye. "You know, that could be you."

Arthur snorts, "I don't think I want to be in a band. I like playing guitar, but–"

"No, not that, married."

Arthur pauses for a moment. Then he covers part of his face with his hand as he leans into it. "You're worse than Mama."

"I mean it, Arthur. That could be a good thing for you. You've gotten more grumpy in your old age."

Arthur removes his hand, leaning back in his chair. "Me? Old? I'm thirty-six, and still younger than you."

"And I'm wiser, so listen to your old man, would you?"

Arthur looks at Isaac and sees the discomfort on his face. Hell, he should have been more attentive instead of being absorbed in his own thoughts. "Isaac, why don't you go see what your grandma is up to?"

"Okay!" He quickly gets up, eager to get away from the conversation.

After a moment or two, Hosea starts the conversation back up again. "So, what's the deal with his treatment?"

Arthur sighs. It is as good a time as any. "Doctors say his cancer is back."

Hosea nearly loses the color in his face. He and Bessie have been hoping that the treatments would be over after his surgery, the boy can only take so much. "Dear God, no."

Arthur tucks his chin, sighing. "Yeah, Eliza has taken it hard. We only have this new treatment to try. He was in a program at the hospital where he had school stuff to do. Eliza has taken a lot upon herself and won't ask for help."

"Why don't we help?"

"I was going to ask you and Mom, actually. He needs a place to be when he isn't in the hospital. Eliza has been working."

Hosea holds up a hand. "Say no more. What days does he need to come here?"

"Well, there is the matter of his treatment–"

"We can handle it. Just show us what to do.”

This makes things a lot easier. He should never have doubted his parents and their willingness to help. "Okay, I have a booklet that has detailed instructions."

"Fine." Hosea rises to his feet, groaning as his knees give a soft pop. "Now, let's see what Bessie is up to, hmm?"

Hosea leads the way back inside and they find Bessie and Isaac playing in the living room together, all distracted and happy, as it should be.

Thank you for reading! 🤠

Tag Requests:

@photo1030 @moeitsu

[veny-many]

Here's one of my headcanon: Comet was surprisingly survivor of original Wolfpack.

For some reason, Comet got transferred from 104th when Malevolence incident happened. When he came back, the whole battalion, his brothers were gone, and only survivors are his Wolfpack-Wolffe, Sinker, Boost.

Comet deeply mourned for his brothers, and felt so bad that he was not there. He knew he couldn't do much at that situation, but at least he would not feel this helplessness. But he was glad that three brothers still alive.

But they were not the same. At least to Comet.

They were hurt, and devastated, and became hysterical. They don't laugh with humor like before. They won't talk about they were fighting for rights anymore. And Comet understood that it was because of their experience was so traumatic. And Comet often felt thrown out because he couldn't feel like them, he was not there.

One day, Wolffe decided that they will change the color of armors. And finally Comet exploded. He couldn't accept that. Color was only thing that linked Comet and fallen brothers. Their Color, their maroon, their faith. Their history that no other battalion would compared. Their own.

Comet felt like he was alone. That he was like lost brothers, who were still floating in cold space with no air. That he still clinging in dead body, sinking in soil with them. And the other pack just march away from them. Like survivors.

That night, Wolffe came into Comet's barrack. And he talked. That he is still mourning. He couldn't get through like other commanders do. That their loss was so much for him to bear. But he would still march, for fallen brothers will, and for what they were fighting for. He wanted to march not just as evidence of their survival, because it is true that original 104th battalion, was gone. But he wanted to be proof that they were still remembered, and they deserved it. Wolffe wanted to mourn them as color. And respect colors of brother's long marched away.

He apologized that they didn't take care about Comet's feelings, and lonely thoughts that were slowly made him desperate and alone. And told that they were afraid that if they get to close to Comet, they would affect him in negative way. He didn't deserved it because to them, Comet was the true survival, not broken like them, never gets in nightmares, still freely talkes about brothers, make jokes and laughs like nothing happened. And now, Wolffe knew that all Comet's behavior toward them was desperate attempt to gather his old Pack back to him. And Wolffe felt terribly bad about that.

After long conversation and so much tears, and somehow Sinker and Boost joined in their barrack, Comet finally accepted they could change the color. He understood that they were not just moving away or forgetting their brothers, and they will remember and mourn forever. In the color of gray, the symbol of mourning of lost dear families, Comet could remind that they still care for them. And they are marching for them.

+) silly bonus

Comet: You know what Kark you!! You will never understand how I felt around you!

Wolffe: Fine, if you're like that, so be it! It's not like you were there with us! And you are saying that you understand us or what!?

Comet: Well than, I should have been there so at least all of you would mourn for me too, not just looking at me like seeing ghosts!!(Gets out of room)

Wolffe:

Sinker:

Boost: OH MY FORCE HE DIDN'T MEAN IT DID HE

Sinker: I think he did mean it. At least in his feeling.

Wolffe: I'm fucked. I fucked it again, just like before. What a terrible commander I am? I was supposed to protect all of you and I keep failing all over and over again. Maybe that Kaminoans were right. I am so damaged right now, I need to get away from-

Sinker:(sighs) Not again.

Boost: Well, off to comm again.(taps comm) General, I'm sorry but are you busy right now?

Plo in comm: Ah, not at all. What is it again?

[flung-out-of-asgard]

Ok but why did you like madam web? I have no opnion on the movie and I'm not planning to see it but I do want to see why the few people that enjoyed it did

There’s many reasons. For starters it is extremely campy, and I love that. I kinda miss superhero movies that go the extra mile to be different, that they even become a little bit cheesy. I guess that’s why I also liked Multiverse of Madness, it was refreshing to have a different story AND visual storytelling, which takes me to my second point.

I’ve heard a lot of people complain about how superhero movies became kind of static, no camera movements, no different shots or angles to push the story forward. I am a professional story board artist, so I appreciate a lot when a movie isnt just telling you what’s going on just through dialogue, but composition and camera work. Yes, it’s a little sloppy in madame web, but I’m so glad it just isnt green screen 24/7 and its the editing and the cinematography what «shows you» Cassie’s abilities. That’s super creative!

Then I loved Cassie as a character, I related a lot to her. The snarky comments, the acid humor, the not knowing how to «properly» interact with other people. That felt so real! She felt like a real person, like someone I can be. I also enjoyed her connection to the girls, them all had great chemistry even if the script made their scenes trip a little, but the way them all shared things in common and became a family, I liked that, I’m a sucker for the found family trope. And also Cassie’s relationship with her mom, I understood that, and that hit me deeply.

Then as for the superhero part. I love that Cassie’s power isnt questioned or dismissed because she’s a woman. I’m VERY tired of movies having these hollow speeches of: ‘Oh, but I am a woman and that makes me strong’ or ‘we’ll take you down with female power’, or having male characters underestimating them for being women and then ‘learning their lesson’. This story never goes there and I appreciate it a lot.

I have many other reasons, but I’ll end just by saying that I’m a huge greek mythology nerd. And I enjoyed a lot Cassie’s story connecting with Cassandra, the seer whose visions weren’t believed. And also Oedipus as Ezekiel trying to avoid his fate.

Is it the best movie? Definitely not, but it’s not as bad as people have said. I believe that every movie has something good to highlight and enjoy and I enjoyed this one a lot! Also. Britney Spears and The Cranberries in the same soundtrack, that sounds fucking awesome.

[promptling]

STAR TREK III: THE SEARCH FOR SPOCK ( 1984 ) change pronouns as needed.

we're almost home.

death is like an open wound.

it seems i've left the noblest part of myself back there.

that's very odd.

your timing is excellent.

how else can i keep my reputation as a miracle worker?

your reputation is secured.

a hero's welcome? is that what you'd like?

what the hell's going on?

when do i get paid off?

you will be remembered with honor.

if my grandmother had wheels, she'd be a wagon.

_________, help me.

you left me. why did you do that?

what the hell are you doing?

have you lost your mind?

this is where the fun begins!

the logical alternative is obvious.

i'll take the risk.

no one has time for those who stand and wait.

i will speak with you alone.

spare me your human platitudes.

i saw no future.

i'd have given my life if it would have saved his.

forgive me.

it is not here.

what you ask is difficult.

we're picking up radiation.

our readings are well below danger level.

you're my best officer.

i don't break rules!

don't quote rules to me.

i'm talking about loyalty and sacrifice.

i never understood vulcan mysticism.

i'll hire a ship.

keep up this emotional behavior and you'll lose everything.

you'll destroy yourself!

thanks for the drink.

the word is no. i am therefore going anyway.

you can count on my help.

anybody been looking for me?

you have me at a disadvantage.

could i offer you a ride home?

how many fingers do i have up?

that's not very damn funny.

your sense of humor's returned.

it's revenge for all the arguments you lost.

this will make you well enough to travel.

i need some challenge in my life, some adventure. maybe even just a surprise or two.

be careful what you wish for. you may get it.

it's damn irregular.

i'm glad you're on our side.

i can't ask you to go any further.

the more they over-think the plumbing, the easier it is to stop up the drain.

let's do it by the book.

it's time for total truth between us.

how many have paid the price for your impatience?

how many have died?

how much damage have you done?

i'd swear something was there.

i have no knowledge.

i hope pain is something you enjoy.

i ordered no interruptions.

i trust my instincts.

i'm sorry i'm late.

i should have known you would come.

i went wrong.

i swear to you, we're not finished yet.

we have a job to do.

no tricks, ______.

if we don't help each other, we'll die here.

i do not deserve to live.

fine, i'll kill you later.

it seems i've missed you.

i don't think i could stand to lose you again.

what you seek has not been done since ages past, and then, only in legend.

your request is not logical.

my logic is uncertain where my son is concerned.

you must make the choice.

i choose the danger.

hell of a time to ask.

what i have done, i had to do.

if i hadn't tried, the cost would have been my soul.

[thenovelartist]

Life After Destruction - Chapter 6 - Honkai: Star Rail

<Previous Chapter ~ Next Chapter>

“You were supposed to die.”

At the all-too-familiar sultry voice, Stelle looked up from where she was sitting to see Kafka. “What a way to greet someone,” she snipped.

“I thought I’d cut to the chase.” Uninvited, Kafka stepped closer and took a seat on the bench beside Stelle.

Stelle narrowed her eyes at Kafka. Even after all this time, she never could fully figure this woman out. The only thing she knew for certain was Kafka never wished any harm to come to Stelle. Though Stelle supposed if there was one thing to know about a person, that certainly wasn’t the worst.

“What brings you here?” Stelle asked, glancing around the crowded plaza of the planet they were visiting. “Out in the open.”

“The place is busy enough for people to notice everyone yet no one,” Kafka answered. “I’m nothing more than a face in this crowd, just like you.”

Well, that was true. Despite Stelle's face having become quite a famous one, no one had approached her. Honestly, for the better.

“I’m surprised that vidyadhara of yours left you alone, though.”

“He’s just across the street.” Through the crowd, Stelle could spot Dan Heng standing beside March as they waited in line at a food stall. The reason for that was March’s phone had broken on the latest mission, and they were currently waiting for it to get fixed at a shop down the street. After meandering the streets for a while, March thought she’d grab snacks for everyone, but Stelle was not up for standing in line. Despite being told her belly was smaller than average for a woman six months along, Stelle was beginning to feel its effects to the point she no longer protested the occasional break. Seeing as March had no phone, Dan Heng had gone with her, leaving Stelle to rest on a bench for now.

“Still,” Kafka continued, “he doesn’t often leave you alone long enough for us to chat.”

“You could approach me when he’s here.”

“That would ruin our girl time.”

Stelle just rolled her eyes at Kafka’s evasive answer. “Anyway, what do you mean? Or am I gonna have to play ‘truth and lie’ to maybe get an answer out of you?”

Kafka chuckled. “Actually, I’ll humor you and give you straight answers today. You deserve it, considering you’re still alive.” She leaned back against the bench, crossing her legs. “In every future Elio foresaw of us winning against Nanook, there was not a one where you didn’t die from that stellaron burst. As cruel as this might sound, we accepted it. A single life is a better sacrifice than a galaxy full of them.”

Considering she was that life, Stelle was inclined to hate that sacrifice more than anyone. But on the other hand, she also understood it. She’d met so many wonderful people, both comrades in arms and civilians who just wanted to live peacefully in this galaxy. She’d come to care for them so deeply that if she could pay a price that would guarantee their future, then she would.

Once again, she caught flashes of a particular green and gold coat as well as a cotton-candy-colored dress through the crowd. Heck, she would have made that sacrifice if only for those two over there, plus the other Nameless, of course. They’d given her everything, and she gladly would have returned the favor, even at the cost of her life.

A sudden jolt to her stomach was enough of a reminder that a very tiny someone was glad she didn’t have to.

“Is that all you wanted to say?” Stelle asked, automatically covering the spot her baby kicked with her hand.

“No,” Kafka admitted. “Actually, there’s quite a bit I want to say, but you’re not the only person I want to say it to.” With that, she stood. “That is, if you dare to follow me for a bit.”

Stelle quirked a brow.

“Don’t worry. It won’t take long. You better text your husband, though. He doesn’t look too happy.”

At the mention of Dan Hang, Stelle looked through the crowd for him, only to see he was glaring in her direction. Not only that, but Stelle watched March’s expression darken the instant she caught on.

She forced herself to give them a smile and a wave before pulling out her phone.

Stelle: It’s okay. 

Stelle: I’ll be right back.

Dan Heng pulled out his phone in response, March looking over at it.

“Now that you’ve taken care of that,” Kafka said, starting to walk away. “Follow me. I promise it will be worth your while.”

As Stelle stood, her phone dinged with a message.

Dan Heng: Where are you going?

Stelle: It’s fine.

Stelle looked up to see Dan Heng and March looking at her through the crowd.

Stelle: Trust me. Just get the snacks for when I get back.

And with that, she shuffled off after Kafka.

“Clingy, aren’t they?” Kafka joked once Stelle caught up to her.

“Well, I don’t need to tell you they don’t exactly trust you,” she snipped.

The woman shrugged it off. “Probably for the better.”

As they walked through the ever-moving crowd of people, Stelle didn’t initiate conversation, even though she certainly had questions.

“Congratulations, by the way, for being the first to bear a vidyadhara.”

“Half-vidyadhara,” she corrected.

“Full-blooded, if Elio’s prediction is correct,” Kafka returned. “But either way, a miracle child for the woman still miraculously alive. It makes for a nice fairytale, doesn’t it?”

More on instinct, Stelle’s hand rested on her stomach. Was Kafka right? Was her child a full vidyadhara? It wasn’t like they knew for certain, and there was a chance they wouldn’t know until it went through a reincarnation process. But if it was, then that would be a boon for Dan Heng's people. Even if they could add a single vidyadhara to the population, that was more than anyone could ever have hoped for. Though, she supposed a vidyadhara having fathered a child in the first place was already a miracle. 

Not that any of that ultimately mattered in Stelle's eyes. This was her and Dan Heng's child, and she was excited to have them come into her family.

“Do you know if you’re having a boy or girl?” she asked.

Stelle shook her head. She was at the point where she could find out if she wanted, but when discussing it with Dan Heng, she’d commented how it would be fun for it to be a surprise seeing as everything else about the baby was. At the time, Dan Heng had frowned, probably because he’d wanted to know, yet he’d humored her and agreed to wait until the baby was born.

Kafka hummed. “Elio wouldn’t tell me his prediction, either.”

“Does he know?”

“If he does, he isn’t telling.”

Stelle resisted the urge to roll her eyes. In all her travels, she’d crossed paths with the Stellaron Hunters many times, but never Elio. He remained a mystery that Stelle had grown too leery of to want to solve.

As they wove their way through the streets to an alleyway nearby, Stelle caught sight of a tall man with silver hair. She froze a moment, almost tripping over her own feet in the process as she was struck by an overwhelming sense of familiarity.

Beside her, Kafka chuckled. “I know you lost your memories when the stellaron was implanted in you, but do you happen to recognize him?”

They stopped in front of the man who looked down at her with uncertainty wavering in his golden eyes. “Should I?” she finally asked.

“I guess not,” Kafka muttered. “You could say he’s my gift to you.” She then tapped the blue gift tied with a pink bow in the man’s arms. “And then one for the baby. Curtesy of me and Silverwolf. I’m sure Blade would have reluctantly appreciated being included, too, if he’d survived.”

Stelle blinked in surprise. Blade was dead? But… wasn’t he…

Kafka seemed to read her mind, melancholy tainting her ever-present easy smile. “One of the very few ways an immortal can find relief from their curse is to be killed by an aeon. This battle presented Blade with an opportunity he could not resist.”

“Yeah,” the man weakly confirmed. “But he didn’t go down without fighting.”

Kafka sighed. “I suppose you’re right. It wouldn’t have been like him otherwise.”

At the somber mood, Stelle felt uncomfortable, like an interloper intruding on a private moment. There was also the fact Blade had a turbulent past with Dan Heng—er… Dan Heng’s past incarnation, which only made her feelings towards that particular Stellaron Hunter all the more confusing. Should she feel glad that Blade got his wish granted, or glad that he was gone? Was it wrong to feel both ways?

“Er, um…” With a forced smile, the man soon shoved the gift box at Stelle. “Sorry, for bringing the mood down. Here!”

Hesitantly, Stelle took the gift. While she did have half a mind to thank him, the only words that came out instead were, “Who are you?”

Kafka spoke up. “If I said he was your brother, would you believe me?”

Her… brother?

Wide-eyed, Stelle looked the man over. She knew he’d felt familiar in some odd way. Was this why?

His chuckle was strained, and he awkwardly rubbed the back of his neck. “You know, I knew you wouldn’t remember, but it’s still kinda weird.”

Words were slow in coming, considering how dry her mouth was. “So… you remember?”

He nodded. “Yeah, kinda.” With an uncertain smile, he extended a hand. “I’m Caelus.”

“Stelle,” she returned, more automatically than anything, before taking his hand to shake.

“He can catch you up on the old times later,” Kafka spoke up. “That is, if he still remembers them.”

Stelle’s brow furrowed in confusion.

“I took a hit to the head in that last battle,” he answered. “The concussion was a monster. A lot of my memories are still fuzzy.”

“If you weren’t so reckless, you could have avoided it,” Kafka lightly chastised. “But then again, that’s to be expected of you.”

Caelus chuckled sheepishly.

“Getting back on topic…” Crossing her arms, Kafka looked over to Stelle. “I’m sure you want to know why I’m here, introducing you two now after all this time.”

Stelle nodded.

“I don’t care to be sentimental,” she said, “nor do I care to go out of my way unless I can see a benefit of it. But… I guess you two are an exception.”

The mood changed then, the world seeming to fade away. It clicked for Stelle that this was the first time she’d ever seen Kafka’s eyes look so clear, except the time Kafka was the Master Diviner’s captive. But considering that Kafka had been a prisoner then compared to now when she was free, Stelle was hesitant to count that as an exception at all.

“Many years ago,” Kafka started, “Elio predicted Nanook would bring about the end of the galaxy. So, he started making a plan. The first step being to produce a human that could be a vessel for a stellaron. This was a process that took a few years to complete, resulting in several babies being created. As they grew, they were constantly being tested for their ability to withstand the power of a stellaron. By the time the group reached the age of five, only two of the children remained viable vessels for the stellaron. We only needed one, but there were only benefits in having a backup, and if both of the vessels made it to adulthood, then we would choose the one that held the most promise. The other would remain a Stellaron Hunter.

“I was put in charge of your training. I gotta admit, I thought you two were going to be real hassles. And while you were in your own way, training you was… amusing. I wish more people had half the raw talent and determination you two showed. But, that shouldn’t be surprising considering whose DNA was taken to create you.

“Then came the day that one of you had to be chosen. Ultimately, both of you were good options to be the stellaron’s vessel, each having your own strengths and both of your bodies physically up to the task. But when it came down to it, there was something in Stelle that made me lean towards her as my choice. Hence Caelus stayed on as a Stellaron Hunter, running errands and whatnot behind the scenes so Stelle’s merry band of Nameless could handle other galactic problems and build alliances along the way.”

At the rush of information, Stelle was quickly growing overwhelmed. It was becoming a struggle to even continue standing when she felt so shaky on her feet. Yet, she forced herself to keep it together. Kafka was never forthcoming with information unless it benefitted her. From all their meetings, Stelle had learned to listen to what Kafka had to say and negotiate for anything more she wanted. But with Kafka dumping this out of her own free will, Stelle wanted to grasp onto every word.

“So… you raised us.” Stelle clarified.

“In a sense, I suppose I did,” Kafka answered. “In your eyes, I must not seem like the type.”

Stelle shook her head.

“Well, I didn’t think I’d be the type, either. And I wouldn’t say I was fully in charge of raising you. You both had a nanny who was actually responsible for you until you were about eight, at which point you were dropped fully into my care. I just taught you everything I felt was important to your life goal.”

“She was brutal,” Caelus whispered to Stelle. Yet, the light tone and slight smile he wore proved he didn’t mind.

Whether it was because she didn’t remember or because the part of her that somehow did remember didn’t mind, Stelle was unbothered by that fact. “So my ability to fight—”

“Came from me,” Kafka finished. “From your bat to your lance, I trained you in both.”

Absently, Stelle looked down at her hands, currently not in gloves allowing her to see the callouses that covered them. Callouses that took on a new meaning now that she knew she’d gotten them due to training with the Stellaron Hunter before her.

“Any other questions?” Kafka asked. “This is the one time I’m answering them freely.”

Clenching her fists, Stelle looked back up at Kafka. “What if I’d failed as a… vessel?” The word felt sour in her mouth. It was hard to grasp the fact she’d been artificially created to be a means to an end. As though her whole existence was, in fact, simply to hold a stellaron.

Kafka hummed. “If ever there was a future where you failed as a vessel, whether it was because you ran away or because you died, we had another stellaron lined up for Caelus.”

“What?”

Stelle glanced over at Caelus, whose jaw was practically on the ground at this point. Clearly, that was new information to him, too.

“Is it such a surprise we had a plan for you?” Kafka challenged. “You know how carefully everything was planned in your time as a Stellaron Hunter.”

Caelus didn’t seem to have an answer for that.

“Thankfully, we never had to implement that plan. It wouldn’t have been ideal anyway as the purpose of putting Stelle on the Astral Express was to help build an army that would rally behind her.”

So even that was planned, putting Stelle on the Express where she’d made a home for herself. Where she'd found a family and even a husband. 

But... then what was to become of them if she'd... “What of the Express members?" Stelle questioned, a defensive anger giving a bite to her words. "Did you mean to put them at the heart of the war?”

“Don’t get upset with me. They would have found their way into the war regardless. You just happened to be so charming that they rallied behind you. In that sense, you were an overwhelming success as an intended vessel.”

Stelle didn’t even know how to feel about that. Yes, she found a home on the Express, and she was thankful for it, but she could have led them all to their death, just because someone else had been controlling the strings.

Any freedom she’d ever thought she’d had over her destiny was slowly slipping away.

“Before you get too sulky,” Kafka continued. “Just realize that they would have all died without you. Along with nearly all the galaxy.”

“At cost of my life, right?” Stelle clarified, anger covering the fear that was creeping like ice through her veins.

Kafka frowned. “Yes. Maybe it was the pure determination both of you possessed to be in control of your own destinies that changed the outcome to something Elio couldn’t have predicted, but what happened was truly the best-case scenario. We were prepared to lose both of you in the aeon war.”

“So we were always meant to die?” Caelus snipped, a hard edge to his tone. "No matter which one of us was the stellaron's vessel?"

Kafka didn’t respond right away. Instead, her expression turned regretful. “I’m sorry,” she slowly spoke, those words ringing with more genuine emotion than Stelle had ever heard from her. “I know that this sentiment is far too little too late, and you might not believe me at all, but… I did care for both of you. A future where I lost either of you was not what I considered ideal, but when the existence of the galaxy was at stake… my feelings on the matter were irrelevant.

"But,” Kafka continued, “considering that you both defied all odds and predictions, I thought you both deserved the truth, no matter how harsh it may be.”

Stelle was rendered speechless. As overwhelmed as Stelle was, that sentiment felt genuine, at least, which almost made them harder to process.

Caelus, on the other hand, still had some fire in him. “How can you say that,” he challenged, “knowing you were raising us to send us off to our deaths?”

“Everything I did was to give you a fighting chance to avoid death,” Kafka answered, her voice taking on a growly edge in defence. “Stelle may not remember, but I know you do. You even said yourself I was brutal on you. I had to be because I knew there would come a time when I wouldn’t be around to protect you. Every bloody battle I let you face, where you screamed at me or cried or got hurt, was all to prepare you to face even worse situations that I wouldn’t be around to help you tackle.”

Caelus grew silent at that.

“I was not destined to save the world,” Kafka continued, her voice calmer now. “That was placed on you two. All I could do was give you every skill you would need to accomplish your destiny. But now… you two are all grown up with bright futures ahead of you. That is more than I could have ever asked for. So if you hate me now, I can live with that.”

“Kafka…” Caelus spoke, all previous anger now gone from his voice.

As weird as it was, Stelle felt similarly. Maybe she was too numb to make an accurate assessment of things, but she felt like Kafka meant every word. Like Kafka, her supposed enemy, actually did care for Stelle more than she knew. 

“Stelle," Kafka spoke, approaching the two of them, "you have a place you need to get back to, but I need to ask a favor of you.”

“Depends on what it is,” she said, her mind still reeling with information.

“Take Caelus with you.”

Caelus’ brow furrowed. “Huh? Take me where?”

A sad smile flashed across Kafka's face. “I’m kicking you out of the Stellaron Hunters.”

“What?! Why?”

She leveled him with a knowing look. “I know you’ve been sneaking off trying to fix stellaron problems the way the Astral Express does. So it’s better I let you do that instead of watching you get yelled at by the others for not following orders.”

Caelus fell silent at that.

Kafka hummed, amused at winning this verbal battle. “You’ll never hear these words from my mouth again, but…” She reached out, cupping Stelle’s cheek with one hand and Caelus’ with the other. “I’m proud of both of you.”

For some reason, those words hit Stelle harder than she expected them to.

The next second, Kafka pulled away. “Take care, Kiddos.” With a smile, Kafka turned on her heel and started strolling off down the alleyway.

Leaving a speechless duo standing in her wake.

~~~

“Where is she?” March muttered, looking over the busy plaza.

Dan Heng’s fists tightened. He should never have let Stelle wander off alone with Kafka. Nothing good could ever come from it. He’d been about ready to sprint to her side when he first saw Stelle with that Stellaron Hunter, but he’d trusted her and stayed put as she’d asked him to. That had been ten minutes ago, and despite he and March having acquired the long-forgotten snacks, Stelle was nowhere in sight.

He pulled out his phone again, searching for a response to any of his previous five texts, only there was none.

Just as he was about to call her—

“I see her!”

Dan Heng looked up, searching the crowd for Stelle and finally spotting her approaching with someone he’d never seen before by her side.

His feet moved on their own as he wove through the crowd towards her. “Stelle.”

Her somber expression brightened slightly as she saw him.

Before he could ask if she was alright, she threw her arms around him and held on tight. With her safe and sound back in his arms, relief flooded him, though he quickly turned a sharp gaze at the newcomer she’d been walking with. One who, oddly, looked familiar even though Dan Heng was certain he’d never seen that man before in his life.

"Hey!" March said, having caught up. "We were worried."

"Sorry," Stelle muttered. 

"Did something happen?" Dan Heng asked.

With a heavy sigh, Stelle pulled away. “Er… I’ll tell you later. But, right now…” She turned around, only to wave the man over to them.

At least the man had the decency to look abashed at his intrusion.

“So, uh…” Stelle gave Dan Heng and March a painfully awkward smile. “This is my brother, Caelus.”

“Brother?!” March cried.

Not bothering to cover his surprise, Dan Heng looked the man over, instantly seeing the family resemblance.

“Yeah,” Caelus sheepishly confirmed. “It's a long story. Uh… nice to meet you both?”

“You probably already know,” Stelle said. “But this is March 7th and my husband, Dan Heng.”

“Uh, nice to meet you, too,” March awkwardly greeted, giving him a wave.

Dan Heng gave a nod of acknowledgment, too surprised to do much else.

“So,” Stelle started. “From here on, he’s joining us as a Nameless.”

“Huh?” March glanced between Caelus and Stelle in surprise.

Dan Heng felt like he was going to have a headache with how fast the surprises were coming. He should have been used to it, considering who he was married to, but this was notably different. “Why don’t you sit down and start explaining?”

Stelle didn’t protest, allowing Dan Heng to guide her back to the bench before heavily taking a seat on it. Dan Heng took a seat next to her, unwilling to let go of her hand quite yet. Before he could ask her to start explaining, though, she patted the empty seat next to her. “Why don’t you take a seat?” she offered Caelus. “That was a lot for you, too.”

The man sighed, suddenly looking extremely ragged. “If you don’t mind,” he said, practically collapsing down on the other side of the bench. He set down the long gift box he’d been holding, leaning it against the bench before bracing his elbows on his knees and hanging his head.

Although his guard didn’t completely fall away, Dan Heng wasn’t so cruel as to not feel some pity for Caelus. Seems whatever happened with Kafka was hard on both the siblings.

Unsure what else to do, March held out the bag of snacks to Caelus. “We got some of the little donuts from the shop over there. Want one? I bet it would be a good pick-me-up.”

Though surprised at the offer, Caelus shyly accepted. “If you don’t mind.”

With a smile, March held the bag out to him. “We got plenty.”

He took a couple with a quiet thanks.

March then held the bag over to Stelle. “You better like these considering you disappeared on us.”

Stelle smirked. “And if I don’t?”

March yanked the bag away. “Then none for you!”

“I haven’t even tried them yet.”

March took a single donut out of the bag and put it in Stelle’s outstretched hand.

Stelle glowered at it.

The interaction was enough to clear the remaining tension in Dan Heng’s shoulders. Stelle was just fine. Everything was okay. Even with the exception of the newcomer who sat with a small smile as he ate his snack, everything felt back to normal.

With March having finished passing out snacks, including giving more to Stelle, Caelus scooted over to the edge of the bench so as to make room for March to sit.

“Thanks,” she said, plopping down between him and Stelle. “So, you’re going to be joining us?”

“Seems so,” Caelus answered, his mannerisms more relaxed now.

“You said you were Stelle’s brother,” Dan Heng prodded.

Caelus nodded.

“He was with the Stellaron Hunters,” Stelle explained.

“Then what brings you here?” Dan Heng inquired.

Caelus cringed. “It seems I’ve been kicked out.”

March frowned. “Huh? For what?”

“Apparently, being too helpful.”

“Do they think that’s a bad thing?”

Caelus shrugged.

“Maybe I’m wrong,” Stelle spoke up, “but it felt more like… an excuse than anything.”

“Seems about right,” Caelus quietly agreed. “It seemed like Kafka wasn’t exactly kicking me out. More like… she didn’t want me to have to be with them any longer.”

“What did Kafka say?” Dan Heng asked, his curiosity growing stronger by the second.

He almost regretted that question as a heavy cloud seemed to settle down on the siblings once again. Stelle answered, “I’d prefer to tell everyone all at once. It’s… a long story.”

“Okay.” Dan Heng rubbed her back soothingly.

“Then, I guess Caelus is really coming back with us,” March said, turning back to Caelus. “So, welcome to the crew.”

Caelus’ expression lit up. “If you’ll take me, I’m happy to be aboard.”

“I think we still have some time before my phone is fixed. So do you want—”

“Actually,” Dan Heng spoke up, having heard his own phone ding with a message notification. “They just finished, if you want to make your way back to the shop.”

March popped up from her seat. “Then let’s go.”

“Wait,” Stelle said, taking out her own phone. “I want to send a message to Himeko saying we’re bringing someone with us.”

“Good call,” March said. “Hey! Caelus, what’s your number, anyway? We’ll add you to the group chat.”

Caelus pulled out his phone, tapping it a few times before offering it to March. “Add your info, and I’ll text you when you get your phone back.”

“Sounds good to me.”

~~~

With their mission of fixing March’s phone completed, they all headed back to the Express. Stelle was beginning to feel the exhaustion kicking in but she had to keep pressing on. She had to properly introduce the newest trailblazer to Himeko and Welt, after all.

Much to their surprise, Welt and Himeko were waiting right outside the Express for them, Pom-pom standing in the doorway.

Suddenly, Stelle grew a little nervous, though she wasn’t sure if that was truly nerves or if it was her baby moving around. Maybe they were kicking out warning her to calm down and stop stressing them out.

Sorry, Baby, she thought, rubbing a hand over her stomach.

Dan Heng’s hand came to rest on her back, calling her attention. She glanced up at him, spying the concerned look on his face.

She just shot him a smile and a nod, hoping he’d understand she was just fine.

“Welcome,” Himeko greeted, being the first to approach them. “Is this the new Nameless I heard about?”

“Yes,” Stelle said, stepping forward to make proper introductions. “This is my brother, Caelus.”

Himeko looked him over in surprise. “Well, I can certainly see the resemblance.”

“Caelus, this is Himeko and Welt,” Stelle introduced, seeing as Welt had come up to them. “And over in the doorway is the conductor, Pom-pom.” Who, by the way, seemed very excited considering how frantically they were waving.

“We meet again,” Welt said.

Caelus nodded. “I guess we do.”

Wait… “again”?

“Huh?” March piped up, confused. “Do you know him, Mr. Yang?”

“Yes,” Welt confirmed, looking back over to Caelus. “In the war, you provided protection for the medical transport, did you not?”

“That’s where I’ve seen you,” Himeko jumped in, realization dawning over her. “You were always such a mess, and you never stayed for long so I never got a good look at you.”

Caelus gave a sheepish shrug. “Heh. Yeah, that was me. Kafka told me not to get too involved, but I couldn’t help it. If Stelle was going to the heart of the war, I couldn’t not follow, stellaron or not.”

“Wait,” March spoke up. “Where exactly were you? Dan Heng and I followed Stelle into the heart of everything, but I don’t recall seeing you.”

“I doubt any of us would have been paying enough attention to recall an unfamiliar face in the crowd,” Dan Heng said. “We had more pressing matters.”

“I started on the outskirts,” Caelus answered. “Just started dragging out the injured and helping them get to the transports. Occasionally, I’d ride with them to be a guard against the tougher monsters. The deeper I followed you guys into the mess, the less I focused on the injured and more on helping defeat the machines. Things get a little fuzzy toward the end, but Kafka said I took down a doomsday machine?”

At that, Stelle felt her jaw hit the ground as she stared at him. Suddenly, hazy memories tainted with vivid fear came rushing back to her. Standing in the middle of a war-torn planet, the acrid smell of burning machinery and the metallic smell of blood filling her nose as she stared up at robots larger than anything anyone had ever seen before. The worst of which was a destruction bot imbued with the power of Nanook himself as the dying aeon tried to hide behind it. It had taken all their strongest weapons and planning to even make a dent in it.

But then, they’d watched the center of the bot start glowing, brighter and brighter like bubbling lava, until it had exploded. It had taken a moment for everyone to realize what had happened, but once the dust had settled, a war cry had rung out. In the middle of the noise, Stelle had led the charge forward to Nanook himself, Dan Heng and March by her side with a roaring army behind her, ready to take on the last wave of monsters protecting the aeon.

“That was you?” Stelle murmured in awe.

“Don’t ask me how I managed to do it,” Caelus said, running his hand through his hair before lifting up a section to reveal a long, curved scar carved into the side of his head. “Cracked my skull open so I don’t remember much. Must have just charged headlong into the fray with half a plan and somehow completed it. Apparently, that plan was taking a stellaron and shoving it inside the core.”

“Wait, what?” March cried, suddenly stepping closer. “You were inside that monster?”

Caelus sheepishly smiled. “Yeah. Somehow. I’ve always been an ‘act first, think later,’ kind of person, more than Stelle ever was. Must have just run on impulse.”

“How’d you manage to survive the explosion?” Dan Heng asked.

Caelus shrugged. “My only guess is that my body, like Stelle’s, was specifically designed to withstand stellarons.” He lifted up the sleeve of his jacket, revealing a spiderweb of angry red scarring. But then took off his glove, revealing how his hand held no scarring and the red ring on his wrist that separated the two sections. “Weird, isn’t it? Kafka’s guess as to why my arm’s like this is that when I stuck my hand in the core with the stellaron, everything outside that core ended up being a mess whereas the inside was protected. As for why I survived at all when I definitely should have died… maybe the core expanded, protecting me? Don’t have a better guess than that. I remember seeing white; that’s it.”

There was a short pause as no one knew what to say to that. It wasn’t as though Stelle didn’t have anything she wanted to say but rather had too many thoughts rolling around in her mind and not a clue which one needed to be voiced first.

In the end, it was Welt who broke the silence. “You did well,” he said, resting a hand on Caelus’ shoulder. “Thank you.”

“Yeah!” March chimed in. “That was amazing! We had no idea how to take that monster down.”

“I second that,” Stelle finally said, giving him a smile. “Guess being a Stellaron Hunter had its perks.”

The mood lightened just ever so slightly at that as Caelus mirthlessly chuckled. “I guess it did.”

“Well,” Himeko said. “With a story like that, I feel you’ve earned a place on the Express. We’re lucky to have you, Trailblazer.”

Finally, Caelus’ smile turned genuine as his eyes brightened. “Happy to be aboard.”

“Here.” Stelle reached for the box Caelus was still holding. “I can take that while the others show you around. Thanks for carrying it back for me.”

With a nod, Caelus handed it over.

March watched with curiosity. “Who’s that for?”

“Kafka gave it to me. For the baby.”

“Oh?” Himeko said. “Baby shower gifts already coming in? Though, one from Kafka is most surprising.”

“No kidding,” March agreed. “Makes me curious.”

That one little remark was how Stelle found herself sitting in the parlor, gift on her lap while her family looked on. She understood why they were curious and maybe even a bit concerned. She felt similarly if she were being honest.

After untying the pink bow, she lifted the powder blue lid off the box to reveal white tissue paper inside. Laying on top was a small baseball bat, complete with plastic balls and a little glove.

Amused, she took out the toys, one clearly meant for a small child. A few chuckles sounded around her.

“It’s fitting,” Dan Heng said with a grin, taking the small glove to examine.

But the box felt too heavy for that to be the end. Stelle lifted the paper, only to see a full-sized bat, complete with baseballs and a leather baseball mitt.

Stelle pulled the bat first, looking over the blue design painted on the gray material. The weight was familiar in her hand, but as memories resurfaced, the weight soon settled on her heart. Kafka had trained her how to wield this weapon, a long time ago.

Suddenly, Kafka’s conversation came rolling back to the forefront of her mind.

“Wow,” March remarked. “That’s really… thinking ahead.”

“Yeah, but Kafka didn’t really want to get a baby item,” Caelus said. “At least she got something nice. She never spent money on toys for us.”

Stelle hummed, trying to ignore the haunting thoughts for now. “That sounds accurate."

“She did let us rummage through the dumpsters behind the toyshops, though," Caelus continued. "We found some good things in there.”

Suddenly, the room went silent.

And Stelle watched as Caelus slowly grew uncomfortable. “What?”

“So you’re telling me that was Kafka’s fault?” March cried.

Dan Heng sighed, suddenly looking very tired. “So that’s where that came from.”

“Uh…” Caelus’s expression turned sheepish. “Did I… say something bad?”

Stelle shook her head, a sudden headache coming on. For as long as she could remember, she'd always had a draw to garbage cans, making her the butt of many jokes and much harassment. She was happy her friends slowly accepted that part of her, seeing as a part of her never wanted to stop. She just got so much joy out of finding something good that nothing else seemed to faze her.

It was just... the last thing she expected was for her favorite hobby to be explained like this. “No. But just… never let them catch you rifling through dumpsters. They will never, ever let it go.”

~~~

With all the excitement that had occurred today, Dan Heng expected Stelle to be in bed by now. When he’d suggested earlier that she retire early for the evening, she’d looked tired with the way her eyes were glazed over and her cheeks had lost some of their color. The most concerning thing, though, was that she hadn’t protested to the suggestion.

However, instead of finding her resting in bed, Dan Heng entered the bedroom only to see Stelle staring at her chest in the mirror.

The scar that had once been so blatant had faded somewhat thanks to Bailu’s medicine. Although it looked slightly less angry than it once had, it would likely take years for it to fade. Even with Bailu’s medicine, Dan Heng doubted it would ever fully disappear. Which was fine. It’s not like Dan Heng cared that she had scars; he had them, too. The only reason he wished it would disappear was because his wife looked completely lost in thought as she ran her hands absently over the mark between her breasts.

Unable to watch any longer, he marched over and laid the small mirror down flat on the dresser, interrupting Stelle’s musings maybe a little too brashly considering that she startled at his action.

“Sorry. I didn’t mean to startle you.”

She shrugged dismissively.

He hated the way her eyes held none of their usual light, her face having taken on a gloomy gray tint. “Is something wrong?” he asked.

Her gaze hit the floor, her brow scrunching together and lips tugging downward as though in pain. It was an expression that practically ripped out his heart.

He wrapped his arms around her, pulling her to his chest. Her abdomen was growing, so facing chest to chest was becoming increasingly awkward, but she was still small enough where it wasn’t too bad.

She leaned into him, clinging to his jacket and nuzzling her face into his shoulder. The way she leaned so fully against him further proved something heavy was weighing on her. But he didn't want to press. He'd just wait for her to respond, or maybe, if need be, not respond at all. 

“Kafka said I was supposed to die.”

Her muttered words surprised him for just a second before a wave of anger overtook that feeling. It figured Stelle’s mood had something to do with that woman. He never should have let her go off with Kafka. “But you didn’t,” he reminded.

“No,” Stelle clarified. “Like… I was literally created to die.”

At that, words failed him.

She sniffed, and he held on tighter as she clung to him.

“But you escaped that destiny,” he finally said. “You’re here now.”

“I know,” she said, pushing away and wiping her tear-stained cheeks with the heel of her hand. “It’s just… I don’t know. It’s a lot.”

His heart was breaking as he watched his wife fall apart. Regret for his earlier actions—rather, his inaction—was creeping in as he cradled the back of her head, leaning forward to rest his forehead on hers. “I should have gone with you. If that’s all Kafka had to say, she could have saved it.”

Stelle shook her head, her bangs ruffling against his. “No. It’s not…” She sniffed again. “It’s fine, but…”

“Deep breath,” he gently instructed, rubbing her upper arms now.

She did as told, taking a deep albeit shaky breath.

“What all did Kafka say?” Dan Heng asked, leaning back to look her in the eye.

Wiping away the remnants of her tears, Stelle began. “She admitted that Caelus and I were both created to hold a stellaron so we could defeat Nanook, and that we were both supposed to die. In every foreseen future, there wasn’t one we were supposed to live. But… like…” She made a flailing motion, as though explaining that her foreseen future clearly hadn’t come true. “Obviously.”

“You made your own destiny,” Dan Heng said. “You and Caelus both, it seems.”

She nodded. “That’s why Kafka told us the truth. Because she… I think she felt bad.”

Dan Heng’s brow furrowed, yet he kept all opinions and doubts to himself.

“So… it’s hard because part of me doesn’t want to hate her,” Stelle continued. “Especially since she raised us and taught us so much. She's the closest thing I've had to a mother figure, even if I can't really remember. But I feel like I should be mad because I was just… I was used. And planted here to fall in line with their plan no matter how hard I tried to escape it. Every step of the way, I was fighting against their plans for me, yet… I was in their plan the whole time.”

Her voice was warbly, and her eyes were red as her tears started up again. He hated it, yet he was helpless to do anything but listen.

“And I’ve got this reminder now,” she continued, grabbing at her chest. “That… that their future for me was never something I could escape from.”

“But you did,” he cut in, cradling her cheeks and swiping the tears from them. “That scar is a reminder you made it out alive. That you’re still here, forging your own destiny with us.”

Her frown deepened. “Yeah, but… Caelus could have just as easily been the one to have the stellaron. It was just… as long as one of us made it on the Astral Express. So even being here now… I feel guilty, knowing I was just a plant. It’s my fault you all were dragged so deep into this war. It’s all… my fault.”

He took a moment to carefully choose his words. “Even if that was the intent of the Stellaron Hunters, you yourself were never a plant. You were, and still are, one of the Nameless due to your own choice.”

She finally looked back up at him.

He gave her a sad smile, his heart in pieces for her. “You choose this path. You fought Nanook because you ultimately are selfless. And we followed you because you were our shining ray of hope. The Stellaron Hunters couldn’t have accounted for the fact that you made such strong connections of your own volition and rallied the galaxy behind you to lead the charge for the universe. That was all you, not the Stellaron Hunters. Nothing is your fault.”

His words sparked a little glimmer of hope back into her golden eyes, only for it to fade just as quickly. "But that was their plan, for me to make connections."

He sighed. "Even if it was their plan for you, it was because of who you are that people rallied behind you. But... if that's not enough, then I guess I just have to give them credit for putting you here. It's because of the Stellaron Hunters' plans that I was able to meet you. Whatever opinions I have of them, it was because of them and their decision to choose you that I was blessed with you as my wife.”

Stelle glanced away, though this time, it wasn’t pain that flashed across her expression but sheepishness. “Kafka told me not to marry you,” she admitted. “At the time, she didn't tell me why, though I guess I understand now. That’s why I tricked you into marrying me. To spite her.”

His lips twitched up in amusement. “How many times do I have to tell you that you didn’t trick me into anything.”

“I feel like I did.”

“I knew what you were doing,” he whispered, holding her close. “Although, I wanted to marry you more formally elsewhere.”

“Sorry,” she returned quietly. “I know I messed up your plans.”

“With you, I’m used to it. I just couldn't say no to you when you were so happy.” He could still remember her unabashed smile as he agreed to partake in that ceremonial wedding dance with her on a planet many, many trailblaze missions ago. Several other couples surrounded them, but as they spun around together—likely missing many of the steps even though the announcer was calling them out and allowing their wrists to grow ever entangled by a silk cloth that connected them—Dan Heng felt like it was only him and Stelle in that moment. He could still feel the way the cloth bound their wrists in the end, tying them together in a union that would not be so easily broken.

He was never one for crowds, hence why he’d been planning a private, quiet ceremony elsewhere, but ultimately, he’d never regretted that being their wedding. Though Stelle did humor him later by partaking in customs he was more familiar with, allowing him to formally present her those particular hair sticks she loved more than anything despite rarely wearing them.

“So never feel bad about that,” he continued. “I was happy to follow you.”

“Yeah, but… what if I had died? Then Kafka would have been right that it was better to stay away—”

“But you didn’t,” Dan Heng cut in, reminding her again. “So don’t worry about a past future that’s impossible now.”

“I just don’t want to hurt you,” she admitted on a whisper.

Dan Heng frowned. “I know you never would on purpose,” he assured. “If I’ve learned one thing from my past incarnation, it is that death is not something we have control over. Even with all the power I have at hand, I cannot bring you back. Which is why I need to cherish the days that I do have with you. Scars or no, and no matter what intentions others had for you in the past, I consider myself blessed every day I spend with you, my starlight.”

Her eyes had lost their melancholy now, regaining some of their normal sparkle. Although, that might have been exaggerated by the new round of tears forming.

“And even if I’d known I would have lost you, I still would have married you.” Sweet words, yes, but words he meant. An outcast like him would have gladly taken that blessing even if he’d known it would be temporary. Stelle had taught him the meaning of “better to love and lose than to never have loved at all.”

She sniffed, her lips warbling as the forming tears broke free and rolled down her cheeks anew. Before he could swipe them away, she grabbed his cheeks and lunged forward to kiss him.

“I love you,” she said, her words weak and whispery.

“I love you, too,” he quietly returned before bestowing kisses of his own on her.

And promise I will love and cherish you for as long as we both shall live. Hopefully, for a long time yet to come.

[aliceisaperson]

Hey, I feel your pain with the bi-phobia. I (a cis Woman, for context) went through the terrifying process of coming out to my conservative christian parents and then went on to date the man I'm gonna marry. I literally only ever dated 1 woman. It really sucks what you're going through. It'd be great to be able to shake people and impress on them your feelings and how they're making you feel. Unfortunately being queer doesn't automatically mean that your sister is a good person, or that her opinions are right. (they're not) There are a million things I could say, but that won't take away what you're feeling now. So sending appropriate amounts of care towards you. P.S. IDK if the 17 in your bio is your age, if it is, I'm 29, so completely understand if you're weirded out and don't reply. What's it like being Gen Z? I imagine it's very similar to being a Millenial only with TikTok dances or something :)

I really appreciate you reaching out, it honestly means a lot to me that people are willing to write long messages to make me feel better. I really wish we as m-spec people were not treated as less queer than others. Im kind of just now realizing how my sister’s never really treated me as a queer person, let alone someone who understands the issues I’m talking about to her, which I do. I can think of times before where we would debate on something and she’d try to use her identity to win an argument even if she was wrong, because she just assumed she understood the queer issues more than me even though I’m also queer. I honestly do not think she even respected me as a fellow queer person at all and never saw me as one. I’m honestly really glad that I’ve chosen not the talk to her anymore.

Also yes, I am 17. I do not mind you reaching out at all, I actually really appreciate it cause she always just said “you’ll understand when your older”, so it’s honestly kind of great to have someone older than her agree that her opinions are bullshit. I think younger people communicating and having real conversations with adults is an extremely important part of maturating and I also really appreciate it when someone who has more life experience than me is able to relate to my experiences and talk to me like a person.

Also on the last part of your post I kind of feel like the main difference between gen z in millennials is the humor but we’re all different people with different experiences so I’ve always found it a bit difficult to specifically pinpoint characteristics of specific generations but that’s just me personally.

Again I really appreciate you reaching out, it means a lot to hear support from a queer person that’s older than me. It always means a lot.

[a30somethingslookatpopculture]

Top 10 "13 Reasons Why" Characters

I am focusing mainly on the main cast and characters that I feel made a big enough impact on the show as a whole. Where I rank them isn’t solely based on how much I like them. Some instances will also be based on how well I feel the actor portrays them. However controversial that might be at times.

1. Tony Padilla

Tony just oozes cool, to me. I loved him from the moment I saw him. His car, awesome. His leather jacket, also awesome. His hair and style, great. His humor and overall characterization were great to me as well. I think we can all agree, we need a friend like Tony in our lives! I was always rooting for my boy!

2. Justin Foley

This one is a weird one. I spent most of season one thinking Justin was such a jerk. His friends were jerks, his actions that led to his tape also made him a jerk. But, by the time the series ended, I absolutely loved the guy! My heart hurt for him, man. He was done so wrong!

3. Clay Jensen

Clay was an interesting character. I can’t quite place it but, I have love/hate feelings towards him. Especially as the series progresses. Yes, dude went through some seriously terrible stuff in his young life. But he turned into a bit of a douche. I was glad to see him seemingly riding off into a happier life, though. Sadly, his demons will always be with him.

4. Hannah Baker

Hannah’s story was just sad altogether. But we all know that already. In terms of character, I liked her. I could relate in some ways. Being a former victim of immense bullying, I totally understood her thought process. Though I didn’t have exactly what happened to her, happen to me, I was certainly a victim of harsh rumors like she was. It takes a huge toll on a young girl’s mind. The tape thing was a little much, though...

Sadly, we didn't get enough time with her for me to truly grow with her, so I put her lower on this list than I wanted to.

5. Bryce Walker

Say what you will about Bryce the character, but the actor did such an amazing job at portraying such a despicable, yet somewhat understandable character. Especially as the series progresses. At times I found myself questioning if I should hate him, or feel bad for him. He was definitely NOT a good guy in any sense of the word. But I give Justin Prentice all the credit on this one! I like a good 'heel".

6. Alex Standall

Alex is awkward and quiet. And he definitely struggled a lot in the show. 13 Reasons Why never shied away from dark themes and Alex was just one of many that got hurt a lot. My really felt for him. Especially early on.

7. Jessica Davis

I have never really been able to decide what exactly it is that I feel about Jessica. I liked her, but also found her to be a bit too uptight and bratty at times. In season one especially. But, that's the point. She was the spoiled daddy’s girl type. I began to sympathize with her more as the show progressed, though.

8. Zach Dempsey

I didn’t think much one way or another about Zach. For much of the show he was the jock stereotype. I liked seeing his more sensitive sides, though. And I especially love the slight bromance he and Clay would later have.

9. Tyler Down

We’ve all known someone like Tyler. Someone really on the outside of every group in high school. Someone you’d see off on their own, and usually the target of many of the jock’s attacks. Seeing how this would impact Tyler throughout the show just broke my heart into a million pieces. I particularly loved how the actor portrayed him in the later seasons. He got really real, and really raw. His talent showed in his performance.

10. Ani Achola

I just don’t have a clue what I think of Ani. I didn’t feel she was needed really. I mean, I guess they needed someone to come in and humanize Bryce a bit and give Clay a new love interest. But her and Clay just didn[‘t do it for me. They had some cute moments together. And I have nothing against the character per se. I just couldn’t connect with her as much.

[kaleidoscope1967eyes]

Okay so I’m basically at the end of Hard Days Night and omg-

I keep expecting the bloopers parts to play during certain songs (Like I want John’s voice to crack a

I like how everyone knows them and also doesn’t give a shit about who they are at the same time

I. Am. A. George. Harrison. Lad.

I mean seriously he is so fucking sassy and quick omg

John’s comedic timing also. I like to believe he didn’t follow the script and screwed around with that stuff

Back to George- I’m Happy Just To Dance With You? Top tier song. My favorite from the movie followed up by This Boy acoustic

God the way they treat Ringo

I have a whole new page of George pictures.

Anyway 9/10 experience

That's honestly one of my favorite things about Beatles movies--they never take themselves too seriously, and the humor is just impeccable! (aka timeless in the sense that to this day, it still feels like a shitpost and is funny by modern standards of humor)

For real!!! They really are Just Guys™ and I'm glad this movie acknowledges that :p

GEORGE!!! GEORGE FOREVER!!!

I like how he subverted the expectations regarding the whole "quiet Beatle" stereotype, and that makes his delivery even funnier

John is a little shit and he's so ridiculous here--he understood the assignment and just. took off.

I LOVE THAT SONG SO MUCH??? IT'S SO GOOD!!!

RINGOOOOO ;3;

Yes you do. One time I spent over an hour staring at the montage of the photographer taking pictures of George Harrison's face