#chapter 17 part 1

[britcision]

SNACKS!

For all y’all freaking about the ghost marriage joke 😉

Also Jason is not pregnant there is no mpreg but this will absolutely not stop him from bursting into fake tears to fuck with Dick if Dick mentions his “parasite”

——————

Well You Did Get Down On One Knee part i

Jason was feeling good, really. Actually a little surprised at how good, considering.

That crunchy little ecto-ice chip had been better than a gallon of coffee, filling him with energy like he’d actually gotten a full night’s sleep.

He hadn’t actually felt this good since the night Danny slept over, which had been the night before last. Didn’t sound all that impressive, except that it had been the best he’d felt in half a decade.

Maybe the full decade. For all Robin made him magic, skipping sleep to fight crime had done a number on him in his teens. If he’d been as willing as Dickie and Tim to slack on his schoolwork, maybe…

Yeah, no, Tim was the poster child for Do Not Emulate This Sleep Schedule.

What mattered was that even after running the docks down with Black Bat for more than half the night and then getting up to get Danny, Jason felt fucking great.

A little more emotionally wrung out, sure, but he felt lighter for… having whatever that had been. Like the stress that had been compacting his chest had finally eased.

He may still want a pillow to scream into for a good six hours, but for him? Still a solid improvement. He felt like his brain was finally working again.

Which… meant he was fully processing that his fucking soul was vibrating in time with Danny’s. And every other ghost could just. Tell.

That was gonna make fight club… actually, Jason had no idea what the fuck it was gonna make fight club. By all accounts Danny being the Ghost King hadn’t made any of them less likely to throw down with him.

If anything, Danny had warned Jason that him being a “young” ghost would make the others more eager to fight. It was a kind of play, bonding and teaching the new baby their powers.

Sounded fucking terrifying by all accounts and Jason was just glad he had Danny to explain it to him, since apparently full ghosts just… knew it wasn’t serious. Even baby ghosts came into existence recognising the game.

Halfas didn’t.

Whiiiich meant that all the “playful” threats of dismemberment had sounded pretty fucking real to Danny, back when he’d been a baby ghost and had half the Zone flocking to “play” with him.

Pitty let out a rumbly little growl, like a sulking dog and Jason hid a snicker. Yeah, he’d also be kicking their asses that little bit harder for that given half a chance.

Actually, if they kept holding fight club, Pitty could take a chunk out of them itself.

That thought got him a contented little purr, which was weird enough that Jason was going to focus back in on Frostbite’s broader explanation. He hadn’t missed anything.

“In the sense that you have tied yourselves together, it may be somewhat like a marriage… however, it is a very different relationship. In a true love-union, your signatures would beat in time,” the yeti explained, gesturing once more to the screen.

Jason’s blob continued to pulse and blur a fraction of a beat behind Danny’s. Definitely not quite in time.

This was a relief. Yup. And Jason’s cheeks definitely weren’t any warmer than they’d been a minute ago, before he knew that, again, his fucking soul was echoing Danny’s.

Frostbite gave his tablet a couple more taps, and a pulsing blue line linked the images on the screen.

“In your case, young knight, your allegiance is marked in both your resonance and in your aura, which now carries a link to your King. His status is what defines your role as a knight, instead of a more casual bond.”

“No one’s king yet,” Danny protested, folding his arms and leaning into Jason’s side. Letting a little more of his weight rest on him.

Jason leaned in too, frowning from the screen to Frostbite.

———————

Tag List:

@welcometosasakiworld @kyrianclawraith @someonebored0100 @stealingyourbones @starkcravingmad @frostedthroughghost @akikkobara @rainbowbunny0159 @littlefeather345 @violet-catsarelife @serasvictoria02 @wolfjackle e @blacksea21090 @secretdestinywerewolf @anime-hipster-the-amazing @undead-essence @skitscratched @blackroserelina @snoodly-boop @trickerdi @mayoota-blog @xysidhe @idkmrpianoman @little-apricot-the-writer @chaoticmistake @the-legal-shipper @bun-fish @aroranorth-west @demon-cat-goes-woof @perfectwastelandcreation @onyxlightdragon @larks-and-katydids @peachesandcreamfemboy @jesus-camp-the-sequel @may-rbi @mothman-the-mothman87 @viyatrix @stargirl1331 @idfk-man10 @thedepressedrobin @skulld3mort-1fan @rootsmudge @ravenshadow17 @cankoking @phantom-dc @mentalcarebear @magic-pincushion @redamancyardor @lyra689 @itsparadoxlacuna @alcorbearson @asphyxia778 @why-must-i-be-like-this @tkiesai @greenpyrowolf @frivolous-pastel l @honeysuckletook k

[saffusthings]

second chances

mob boss! lando norris x reader

part seventeen: dream a little dream of me

word count: 1.6k

warnings: tooth-rotting fluff

sixteen | seventeen | eighteen

The second date should’ve felt more awkward. It didn’t.

Alex had picked a science museum of all places—not exactly romantic on paper, but the look on his face when he pointed out the replica Mars rover was too earnest to judge. He had this habit where his whole face would light up like a lightbulb the moment before he got excited about something, and Y/N had already learned to clock it like a warning siren.

“So, technically,” he was saying, hands jammed in his jacket pockets as they strolled past a massive display on deep-sea robotics, “the algorithms used for this submersible’s sensor mapping were adapted from AI software developed for self-driving cars.”

“Technically,” she echoed, teasing, “you should probably just work here.”

He looked sideways at her with a crooked grin. “I applied when I was sixteen. They didn’t take me.”

“They’re clearly still recovering from that mistake.”

He tried to play it off cool, but she caught the slight flush of his ears.

She liked him more than she expected to. Not in the way you decide to like someone—more like how you step outside one day and realize the air smells like rain and suddenly, you’re soft and open and all the windows are down. He was like that: unexpected and quiet and warm around the edges.

They made their way through the rest of the exhibits in no particular order, weaving between dwindling crowds of families and groups of students on field trips, neither of them in a hurry. He let her take her time at the forensic anthropology section, where she ran her fingers along the raised edges of a reconstructed skull, and she let him lose himself in the physics wing, where he explained, with ridiculous enthusiasm, why the double pendulum was so cool. It was there that the nickname Professor Albon was born.

At some point, he took her hand. It wasn’t a big deal. He just did it naturally, without hesitation, like it had already been a habit, and for a moment, that simple touch made her feel warm all over.

They ended the night sitting cross-legged on the floor of the museum café, long after it closed, surrounded by vending machine snacks and a half-solved crossword puzzle she’d found in her bag. The overhead lights buzzed faintly, casting a dim glow over the abandoned chairs and tables, but neither of them seemed eager to move. They laughed about everything and nothing, the kind of laughing that came from being tired but happy, the kind that made her lean into his shoulder without thinking.

"Okay," Alex said, tapping the eraser end of his pencil against the page. "Eight-letter word for ‘illuminates or clarifies’?"

As she took a moment to think it over, Alex watched in his periphery as she counted off the letters of her word on her fingers. "’Explains’ fits," she mused, popping a purple skittle into her mouth.

"Hmm." He scribbled it in. "Not bad. Maybe I should keep you around."

"Yeah, yeah," she nudged his knee with hers, grinning. "You just like me for my crossword skills."

"Wrong. I like you for your crossword skills and your terrible puns."

“My puns are great, thank you very much.” She rolled her eyes, but she was smiling.

He liked her brain. She liked how funny he was. They made a good pair—two academically overworked people who laughed at obscure engineering memes and played footsie under café tables without meaning to. When they said goodbye that night, he kissed her like he was trying not to smile through it. Like maybe this could really be something.

It felt easy.

And in the days that followed, it stayed easy. He texted her every night.

alex: Made the Mars rover jealous. Can’t stop thinking about you.

Y/N: did you just say that unironically. because I might have to stop seeing you on principle.

alex: Too late, I’ve already added you to my will. You get the Lego Technic collection.

Y/N: wait nvm i’m back in

They made time. Even when they both shouldn’t have.

He’d bring her coffee before her class–something with cinnamon and oat milk in it. He’d scrawl dumb physics jokes on the lid just to make her roll her eyes. She started keeping his schedule in her head without meaning to. She knew which nights he had his advanced systems class and which ones he spent buried in the lab. He’d text her when his simulations crashed at 3AM. She’d send him memes about courtroom drama tropes in return.

He had an engineer’s sense of humor—dry, sneaky, often deeply specific. It took a while to catch on, but once she did, it felt like discovering hidden easter eggs in his sentences.

“You know,” he’d murmur as they lay back in the grass near campus, watching clouds roll over like they weren’t chilly out here in the autumn breeze, “you statistically reduce your lifespan by two minutes every time you eat instant ramen.”

“Cool. So I’ll be dying a noble, sodium-rich death then.”

He turned his head toward her, smiling with closed eyes. “Hmm, a martyr.”

“A hero.”

“Buried with your books and MSG packets.”

She shoved his shoulder. He let her.

On Thursdays, she’d sit outside his lab, cross-legged on the cold tile floor with flashcards in her lap, quizzing him on his presentation slides about failure analysis and impact resistance.

“Okay, explain to me like I’m five—what is a stress-strain curve and why should I care?”

“Because,” he’d say, crouching in front of her with a smirk, “it tells you how close something is to breaking.”

“And that’s relevant to your research…?”

He gave her a confused look, until it turned sheepish as he scratched the back of his neck. “I’m… not entirely sure about that bit, actually.”

She started looking forward to the moments in between—the walks across campus, the shared bag of chips while sitting on the hood of her car, the ridiculous voice memos he sent when he was overtired and delirious.

They kissed in stairwells and library corners and once,perhaps ill-advisedly, on a park bench in the middle of a thunderstorm. The rain had soaked through their clothes, cold and unrelenting, but he had just looked at her and said, "I think we should be stupid about this," right before he leaned in. It was impulsive and dramatic and made her laugh until she had to cover her mouth, their faces inches apart. Her hair was soaked, his glasses fogged up, and they almost dropped his backpack in a puddle, but the moment stuck—sharp and golden and untouchable.

They talked about future dates like there’d be dozens of them—bookstores they wanted to browse together, a tiny Thai place he swore by, a stargazing night he promised would be “scientifically optimized for romance” depending on the cloud cover. She rolled her eyes at that one, but her heart still fluttered.

They were still in the sweet spot—the space between maybe and more, where everything felt bright and possible. 

It wasn’t perfect – but it was promising.

The third date was dinner—some hole-in-the-wall Thai place with flickering neon signage and laminated menus stained with old curry thumbprints. He’d gotten lost on the way and sent a flurry of frantic texts.

alex :) : I passed the restaurant. Twice. There’s a cat staring at me through a laundromat window. I think it’s judging me.

Y/N: be strong. you can beat the cat.

alex :) : Negative, Sargeant. It’s very confident.

He’d arrived breathless, slightly damp from a drizzle, and holding a single packet of Skittles “for your efforts,” he’d said solemnly. She called him an idiot. He looked delighted.

That night, they talked about things that didn’t matter—TV shows neither of them had finished, foods they pretended to like for the aesthetic, the sheer horror of Alex’s undergraduate group project from hell (“We had a guy who thought duct tape was a structural solution”). 

And then, slowly, they talked about the things that did matter.

Like how she used to want to be a journalist when she was little, because she thought it meant you got to ask as many questions as you wanted and never had to apologize.

Or how he still wasn’t sure what kind of engineer he wanted to be—just that he wanted to make things that didn’t break when people needed them most.

“You know,” he said, nudging his glass in slow circles across the table, “you’re not what I expected.”

Y/N looked up. “Is that a good thing or, like, a 'you’re secretly a serial killer' kind of a thing?”

He smiled. “It’s a good thing. Really, really good.”

By the fourth week, they had a rhythm. It wasn’t just dates anymore—it was Hey, want to walk home together? and I saved you the last chocolate chip muffin, but only because I like you more than I like muffins. But barely.

It was him reaching for her hand without thinking, her resting her head against his shoulder on the bus when she was too tired to hold it up.

It was a shared Spotify playlist for when studying is ur 13th reason.

It was early Saturday morning sun filtering into her apartment while they quietly read their own books, his socked foot nudging hers on the side of the couch almost every ten minutes.

It was good.

But between the sleepy smiles and the shared muffins and the texts that kept getting longer instead of shorter, the truth was that they both had dreams. Big ones. All-consuming ones.

And no matter how much you wanted something—or someone—there were only so many hours in the day.

a/n: one of my more favorite chapters! an unfortunate lack of lando though :/ what did you think of it?

[abybweisse]

Ch216 (p1); Guest room tally

This chapter has a bit of Vadis and Hall, but it's mostly about gossip and figuring out if the hotel has the rooms required for so many guests.

So, that's the tally.

Mr. Hall treats Mr. Vladis' wounds and asks that he refrain from acting like that again... in front of ordinary guests. Does that mean there's a part of the hotel where such violence is allowed??

I must say, even Mr. Hall is quite a mysterious person. How much does he know about what's really going on there?

Is Modri Vladis crying here, or is he just holding his head in his hands? 🤷🏻‍♀️

Our earl and Sebastian try to figure out how many guest rooms are at the hotel versus how many guests are supposedly staying there.

Sebastian compares the resort to The Savoy Hotel & Restaurant, which had recently opened in London. (It actually did open that summer in the City of Westminster, London.) Yana-san probably looked up the old article from The Times.

They determine how many guest rooms would be needed for nobles and gentry, along with their children and servants, and it must be more than the hotel can hold.

The Langham, London opened in 1865, and I found some pics to compare to the image above, but I'll have to post them separately, due to the image limits.

Sebastian is to go around and count the actual number of guest rooms, and our earl is (by Sebastian's suggestion) to sit in the lounge and eavesdrop on gossip.

So, off Sebastian goes to count doors, and our earl is going to hear something that might prove quite important.

[crystalillumination]

[stunfiskz]

ah fuck the au i’ve made up as a joke has morphed into an au that i’m actually very attached to the idea of now but also feel kind of silly about

[ptts2023]

TM GAME TOURNAMENT MAGAZINE ANNOUNCEMENT 12 PART 07

Written By: Neng Hong Lam Date Written: May 07, 2025

Table of Contents: Introduction Part 01-09 Chapter 01 Chapter 02 Chapter 03 Chapter 04 Step By Step Long Journey To Acceptance And Forgiveness Part 17 Chapter 05 [1.] There Is Still One More Test A. Where Are We At? B. Is This Place Our Home? [2.] Is This the Dream Life We Struggle So Hard For?

There Is Still One More Test

Where Are We At?

The airplane left Vietnam airport and arrived at the Thailand airport. The country of Thailand is in the Asia continent, and it is next to the country of Vietnam and the country of Cambodia.

This mean my family haven't got far away from Vietnam. So, it is still a very long flight until my family reach USA. The country of USA is in the North America continent. North America is continent far away from Asia.

I would argues that the world have seen my family went through very hard trials. So, the world think another trial would be no problem for my family.

Even if I didn't make this argument, then it is fact that my family did went through very hard trials.

The argument is I could try to see if people recognize my following image: I'm the celebrated champion who is leading the children in Sand Be and the most beautiful and beloved baby in Sand Be. If people don't recognize my image, then it is worth a try. Because I no longer in Sand Be Vietnam.

Anyway, I think my family is like me trying to think positive thoughts. Also, me and my family not going to back down without a fight. Because my family did really believe that we were going to immigrated to the USA. Those positive thoughts are my family will going to get to USA.

The airplane flight from Vietnam airport to Thailand airport is about 1-2 hour(s). So, I know we are not in the USA. Because the flight from Vietnam to USA take at least 10 or more hours.

What is going on? Where are we at?

My whole family got inside a bus. There are many people inside that bus. But, my family able to find seats to sit down inside the bus. The bus ride is about 60-90 minutes.

Even though, I been telling myself we are still not in the USA. But, what if I accidentally forgot I fell asleep in the airplane? So, I looked outside the bus's window as long as possible to confirm that we are not in the USA.

This is my first time in Thailand. From my observation, I think the high way roads in Thailand have smoother traffic and the roads is more developed than Vietnam's capital city, Ho Chi Minh.

Then, I overheard talks inside the bus that we are in Thailand. When I heard those talks I know for sure we are not in the USA.

The argument is whatever I'm thinking. The adults who know what is going on already thought of it. So, those adults know what I'm thinking and anticipated for me to make my moves.

As for my mother, Sok Nghim Hoi. Yes. It is true those adults have information about my family background. But, what if those adults miscalculated about a family in my family's heritage and my family's connections? Example: Months before the airplane flight, my family visited some relatives' houses. Also, many relatives and friends visited my family.

Our oldest sibling among the siblings is Bun Hong San. She is around 18 years old. So, she able to help our mother with staying on top of the management.

What Nghim and Bun don't need is me and the other siblings complaining/whining about wanting to go back home. I think the complaining/whining would only make our family going through more problems.

I'm 8 years old. Du Hong Lam is 6 years old. Ho Hong Lam is 10 years old. And, Lieng Hong Lam is 12 years old.

The bus stopped at a building complex. The following is the description of that building complex from my memories:

[Building Complex Description Begin]

Main Building: The main building have around 5+ stories. The main building is where the multiple thousands immigrants live. Each family is assigned with approximation of 5 yards by 5 yards of empty space to live.

Administration Office: The Administration Office and the Check-In Office is the same building. It is near the main gate.

Warden Building And Food Court: The Warden Building is connected to the food court. The food court is where the immigrants line up to get their breakfast's meal, lunch's meal, and dinner's meal.

Courtyard: The courtyard is behind the Warden Building. It is the only spot in the building complex where you could have some sunlight from the sun.

Main Gate: The main gate keep the thousands of immigrants inside the building complex. During meal time, the immigrants may go to the main gate to buy food and essential supplies or trade for food and essential supplies. This mean those immigrants have to trade through the metal bars. Example: Should you hand your money over first or should you get your food and essential supplies first? Even though, the trading transaction might seem exciting, but my family depended on those trades. So, I think it is serious and risk taking.

[Building Complex Description End]

The argument is seeing that building complex and hearing stories about that building complex the immigrants would be filled with fears and/or have breakdowns.

Since I was a few years old living in Sand Be (my country-side), I have been haunted by ghosts during the nighttime and have nightmares in my sleeps. I would argues I have been fearful my whole life.

Even though, I have been fearful my whole life. But, the stories about families have been living in that building complex for months of time does shock me.

I would argues it is a struggle between: Wanting to see how those families able to live for months of time inside a building complex. Or, try to think positive thoughts such as my family going to go to USA soon.

While inside the airplane, I asked the flight attendant for blankets to keep me warm. Also, a couple magazines so I have some to look at (I still just barely went to home school at that point of time, so I still learning how to read.). So, the flight attendant got me blankets and magazines. Coincidentally, an English lady offered me 60 cents for 1 of my magazine at the airport. So, I traded with her. I see it as a coincidental trade, because she wanted a magazine to read. I have 2 magazines with me. She did tells me the values of each of the coins she gave me, but I sees it as more a coincidental trade.

I got 2 blankets, 1 magazine, and 60 cents (US currency) from the airplane. So, I was able to bring those 2 blankets, 1 magazine, and 60 cents with me inside of that building complex.

Is This Place Our Home?

When the bus got to that building complex, it is getting close to the evening. After the warden assigned my family the spot to live, it is dinner time. It is approximation 5 yards by 5 yards of empty space. We got all of our luggage and bags that we brought from Vietnam. We keep it inside our spot.

While my family is lining up to get our dinner. 1 family member have to stay behind to watch our luggage and bags.

On the first few days, the following is the meal time: Each immigrant get 1 lunchbox (regular lunchbox that restaurant use on food to go). Inside the lunchbox, there are plain cooked rice. 2 hardboiled eggs. In addition to the lunchbox, you may ask for a side of vegetable soup.

After the first few days, the following is the meal time: Each immigrant get 1 plastic sack of ready to eat food. Inside the plastic sack, there are plain cooked rice and some cooked vegetables. Sometime you get 2 hardboiled eggs instead of cooked vegetables.

At that point of time, even though, that English lady told me the values of each coins, but I'm not familiar with the US currency. So, I didn't know that she gave me 60 cents. 1 Quarter, 2 Dimes, and 3 Nickels.

I told Bun I made a trade with an English lady at the airport. She gave me 60 cents.

During the meal time, me and Bun went to the main gate. Me and her show the seller who is selling barbeque beef kabob a Nickel from the 60 cents. He handed her 2 barbeque beef kabob for that Nickel. Beef kabob is a wooden stick pierced though many pieces of chopped beef.

Our family shared those 2 barbeque beef kabob by each person get a few piece beef to go with their meals. Our family was getting tired of eating plain cooked rice and cooked vegetable or hardboiled eggs everyday.

Bun let me keep the Quarter. As for the 2 Dimes and 3 Nickels, she used to traded for the barbeque beef kabobs. Our family would shared those barbeque beef kabobs.

I kept that Quarter as an airplane souvenir.

The daily recreation activities inside the building complex. Me, our siblings, and the children would play tag, hide and seek, and other recreation activities.

The argument is it is discouraging to explore the building complex. So, during the game of tag and hide and seek. I get a chance to see how big the building complex is.

The US Immigration letter made my family cancel the Cambodia trip and left Cambodia in a hurry. So, I didn't get a chance to says goodbye to that girl I met in Cambodia who was touring with my family during the Cambodia trip.

One day, I saw a girl at a distance. She reminded me of that girl in Cambodia. Are all the children's spirits broken, because being locked inside the building complex? That girl in Cambodia have high spirit. I usually stopped at floor 3. I followed her all the way to floor 5. How many floor is this building go up to?

I decided to use my Quarter and my last magazine to trade for a ball.

With the ball, I gathered some of the children together at the courtyard. Then, I shown those children how to play hide and seek kick ball.

Being in the courtyard for the first time, I finally get a chance to see the sunlight again. Occasionally, me, my 2 brothers, and the children would play hide and seek kick ball in the courtyard. Not long, we would break into 2 teams and play soccer games.

I don't know the whole story. My mother speed up our family US immigration process by spending a few US hundred dollar bills. Also, I heard she got help from a relative who is a high rank officer in that building complex.

Because I didn't wanted to think too much about living in that building complex, so I didn't keep track of the exact number of days living there. I think my family live there for some weeks of time.

Is This the Dream Life We Struggle So Hard For?

First, the 6-8 months of time going through the US Immigration examination.

Second, living in a building complex for some weeks of time in Thailand.

What will happen next?

I'm not use to riding airplane. Also, it is my first time riding airplane. So, after many hours in the flight, I felt dizziness and seasick.

By the time, I arrived in the San Diego airport. San Diego is a city in the USA. I could barely walk, because of the dizziness and seasick.

In the San Diego airport, the officers told Nghim and Bun that no fruits are allow to be brought over to the USA.

What a waste of all those fruits being tossed inside the trash can. If my family knew about it, then we would have ate those fruits inside that building complex in Thailand.

We are so close to the USA, so we didn't wanted to keep some fruits jeopardize the USA immigration. So, Nghim and Bun would tossed all the fruits into the trash can.

By this point, I need to lean on the luggage to keep my balance. Because of my dizziness and seasick.

Nghim told us to look for our aunt, Kim Lao inside the San Diego airport. Aunt Kim is Nghim's younger sister.

Our cousin, Sandy Lao recognize our family, because of the family photos. Sandy is Aunt Kim's daughter. Vice-versa, Nghim and Bun recognized Sandy, because of the family photos.

Nghim, Bun, and Sandy are so happy to see each, they are in tears and crying.

Aunt Kim is only some yards away from Sandy, so when Aunt Kim show up, Nghim and Aunt Kim hugged each other. And, they couldn't stop crying.

Aunt Kim decided to drive our family to a Vietnamese Pho restaurant first to have something to eat before driving us to her apartment.

I think by this point I probably fell asleep in the car. Or, I would probably tells Nghim that if I could ordered the Pho noodle to go.

I would argues by the time I got to Aunt Kim's apartment, the first thing I would do is to find a place to lie down and sleep.

I got to her apartment at around 5:00 PM. I would sleep for 9 hours. From 5:00 PM until 2:00 AM. I woke up at 2:00 AM, I saw that all the people in her apartment are still asleep. I went into the kitchen to check if Nighim ordered the Pho noodle to go or not.

Anyway, I found an electronic rice cooker. There are some plain cooked rice in it. So, I scooped a bowl of plain cooked rice. Then, I put some dried shrimps in my bowl and poured a little bit of soy sauce over it. After I finish eating it, I went back to sleep.

This is the end of Book 1.

In Book 2, I want to have the events in my life in a more chronological order. So, during each events I would list the year to keep those events in a more chronological order.

The event would start on October 1992. Then, year by year.

Before the USA Immigration, I was the most beautiful and beloved baby in Sand Be (my country-side). My family is a wealthy family with status and a lot of connections.

What will happen to me now after I immigrated to the USA? Would my life be better? Would my life be worse? Or, would my life be ignored such as no one care about my life?

"Step By Step Long Journey To Acceptance And Forgiveness Part 18" continue in TM Game Tournament Magazine Announcement 12 Part 08.

[kyri45]

Can’t believe Nüwa is a Shadowpeach fan

Shadowpeach Bio Parents AU 🧡❤️💜

Set a couple of weeks after the ending of Season 5, this now +1600 panels comic is both a slow burn and a journey through what it means to be a parent, as well what it means to be someone son.

(Available also on Tik Tok)

Translations: Polish - Russian - Portughese

P.1: First Arc

1 - 2 - 3 - 4 - 5 - 6 - 7 - 8 - 9

Extras: A Future Scenario - PIF finds out

P.2: Week 1 and 2

1 - 2 - 3 - 4 - 5 - 6 - 7 - 8 - 9

P.3: Training montage

1 - 2 - 3 - 4 - 5 - 6

Extras: Family dinner

P:4: Un-divorce arc

1 - 2 - 3 - 4 - 5 - 6 - 7 - 8 - 9 - 10

Extras: Spicynoodle bit

P.5: More than a successor

1 - 2 - 3 - 4 - 5 - 6 - 7 - 8 - 9 - 10 - 11

P.6: Training Arc 2, Electric Boogaloo

1 - 2 - 3 - 4 - 5 - 6 - 7 - 8 - 9 - 10 - 11 - 12

P.7: Full Moon Eclipse

1 - 2 - 3 - 4 - 5 - 6 - 7 - 8 - 9 - 10 - 11 - 12 - 13

P.8: A Dark, Long Night

Arc 1: 1 - 2 - 3 - 4 - 5 - 6 - 7 - 8 - 9 - 10 - 11 - 12

Arc 2: 13 - 14 - 15 - 16 - 17 - 18 - 19 - 20 - 21 - 22

So we might have an issue we still have 20+ chapters until the end of the story but Tumblr doesn't allow more than 100 links on one post so CLICK HERE to see the MASTERPOST PART 2 of the AU with also the Part 9

[famousinmyfandom]

Chapters: 1/17 Fandom: Bonanza (TV 1959) Rating: General Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Candy Canaday & Little Joe Cartwright, Candy Canaday/Griff King Characters: Candy Canaday, Griff King, Little Joe Cartwright Additional Tags: Angst, Worry, Grief/Mourning, Everyone misses Hoss, including me, no Alice because that whole plot line was stupid and went nowhere and I hated it Summary:

Candy and Griff find their way to each other.

[radioactive-earthshine]

20 Low effort meaningful comments to leave on fics when you can’t think of anything to say that most authors love and appreciate (and you will too).

1.) Thank you for writing this!

2.) This really helped distract me from the horrors of reality, thank you for writing it!

3.) I really really really loved this.

4.) <3

5.) Literal keyboard mash q3kjt2uh0erjiurjfnejkrgnkejoiiueirnf!!!!

6.) My favorite part was when they ____.

7.) I laughed at ____.

8.) How dare you! /affectionate.

9.) I am very excited to read this story in its entirety!

10.) I really enjoyed the first __ chapters, I cannot wait for more!

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12.) 10/10 fic, thanks for writing!

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15.) This was the best ride I haven taken in a long time, wow! Thank you for writing this.

16.) If I had the ability to bind this as a real book I would, I loved it so much.

17.) I'm not good with words but I just loved this so much.

18.) This is complete perfection.

19.) I am in awe of how you described ____.

20.) This means so much to me that you wrote this. Thank you.

The more you comment, the better you will get at it and the more enjoyment and fulfillment you will received out of saying thank you.

[soaps-mohawk]

Summary: Task Force 141 operates successfully without an omega, at least that’s what Price has been saying since its formation. Two alphas and two betas balance the pack just fine, and they have the numbers to prove it.

It works for a while, until the Omega Initiative is born and the 141 find themselves having to adjust to the sudden addition of an omega to their pack. Fresh out of an institute, you’re hardly fit for their secretive, dangerous world, or so Price thinks. 

As each member of the team gets closer to you, things begin to come to light, not only about you but about the decision to force you into their lives.

Maybe, just maybe, Price was wrong and the 141 does need an omega after all. 

Pairings: Poly 141 x reader, Price x Gaz, Ghost x Soap

Warnings: Alpha/Beta/Omega dynamics, NSFW content, explicit smut, fingering, oral (m and f receiving), knotting, biting, claiming, mating cycles, Alternate Universe, a/b/o typical classism and sexism, age differences, military inaccuracies, canon typical violence, blood, weapons, language, no use of Y/N, brief torture, hurt/comfort, let's be real this is so unrealistic but it's a/b/o you're not here for accuracy.

Chapters containing smut are marked with a *

Join my Patreon for exclusives -> HERE

This fic can also be found on my Ao3 -> HERE

I will no longer be using a taglist for this fic, please follow THIS BLOG and turn on notifications

**This fic is currently in progress**

NAVIGATION PAGE

CRCB DIRECTORY

Part 1 - The Omega

Chapter 1 - The Introduction

Chapter 2 - Adjustments

Chapter 3 - Speak Their Language

Chapter 4 - You Can Be Useful

Chapter 5 - What I Want *

Part 2 - The Bond

Chapter 6 - One Step Closer *

Chapter 7 - Sweet Strawberry

Chapter 8 - The Thing About Ghost

Chapter 9 - Save Me

Chapter 10 - Treat Me Gently*

Part 3 - The First Heat

Chapter 11 - It's Coming

Chapter 12 - Fire In My Veins*

Chapter 13 - Piece Me Back Together*

Chapter 14 - The Aftermath*

Part 4 - The New Normal

Chapter 15: Bonnie*

Chapter 16: Big Brown Eyes *

Chapter 17: Alone

Chapter 18: Don't Let Me Go

Chapter 19: Daddy Issues

Chapter 20: The New Normal *

Chapter 21: Crime and Punishment *

Chapter 22: I Won't Be Gentle

Part 5 - A Pack of Five

Chapter 23: Regrets

Chapter 24: The Last First Time *

Chapter 25: Animals *

Chapter 26: Fuck *

Chapter 27: Drown In It *

Chapter 28: Two Is Company, Three Is A Party *

Chapter 29: There's Something Wrong With My Omega

Part 6 - The Tragedy

Chapter 30: Butterfly's Wings

Chapter 31: Forced Proximity

Chapter 32: The Tragedy

Chapter 33: Ghosts of the Past

Chapter 34: The Whole Truth

Part 7 - The Aftermath

Chapter 35: Threads

Chapter 36: To The Sea

Chapter 37: The Silence

Chapter 38: Shattered

Chapter 39: Life

Part 8 - The Next Chapter

Chapter 40: Where Do We Go From Here

Chapter 41: Revenge

Chapter 42: Comfort and Joy

Chapter 43: Lies

Chapter 44: Little Shit

Chapter 45: Heat of the Moment *

Chapter 46: My Girl *

Chapter 47: The Reunion

Chapter 48: Wild Times *

Chapter 49: Reforming Bonds *

Chapter 50: Flashback *

Part 9 - Finding Home

Chapter 51: Back To The Start

Chapter 52: The Rucking Princess

Chapter 53: Meeting the Family

Chapter 54: The Farm

Title card made by the beautiful @141wh0re

Chapter 55: Finding Home *

Chapter 56: Making Home *

[mydearzero]

The Babysitter | Robert 'Bob' Reynolds x fem!Reader | Chapter 1 - Sitters NYC

Summary: You didn’t have any superpowers, nor were you even qualified for the position, yet somehow a mishap between Alexei and Yelena ends up in getting you a new job. Bob-sitter. 

Contents: No Y/N, fem!reader, college student!reader, no warnings apply for this chapter.

A/N: A multipart series?? From me?? who would've thought. We'll have to see where this goes and whether I'll keep it up lmao. Let me know what you think!

Read it on AO3 Chapter 2

1.9K words

“You said babysitter, I get a babysitter, problem solved!” Alexei exclaimed. The girl pinched the skin between her eyebrows, taking a few breaths before turning back to Alexei. 

“I didn’t mean an actual babysitter! I meant a trained professional! Or at least someone with a background check.”

This had been going on for about 5 minutes, ever since you’d arrived at the penthouse of the rebranded Avenger’s Tower. 

“Look, there’s clearly been a misunderstanding here. I can just, you know, leave,” you shrugged to the elevator, slowly picking your bag back up to leave. 

“No, no! You don’t leave. Just wait here,” Alexei insisted. You put your bag back on the floor, unsure of what to do next. 

You should’ve known as soon as the man contacted you through the Sitters NYC app that it was a bust. Who even has kids that need sitting in a place like this? You could still go back to Mrs. Lowinski, go back to cat-sitting the woman’s 17 Sphynx cats. But the lingering cat smell… Not to mention the fact that naked cats get their skin oils everywhere... No— this was a safe bet. 

The duo argued some more before the girl, Lena?, turned to you with a sympathetic smile. “I’m sure you’re very nice and that my father offered you good money, but we had a bit of miscommunication about how to solve a problem. I’m really sorry.” 

“It’s okay, really. Thanks for the generous offer, anyway, Alexei,” you thanked the man with a thin smile, once again picking up your damn bag and heading for the elevator. 

Alexei yelled after you again to wait, but it was clear the man wouldn’t get his way, unfortunately for you. You gave him a sad wave and pressed the button for the elevator. As the doors opened, someone was about to step out when you were about to step inside. You did the awkward side-shuffle to get out of each other's way before he laughed and let you go first. You turned to stand facing the doors and caught a last glimpse of the man’s unruly brown hair before they closed.

✶

“Who was that?” Bob asked as the doors closed. 

“Your babysitter, if it was up to Alexei. We’re trying to find a reliable person who can stay here with you when we go out on missions, but Alexei took it upon himself to get an actual babysitter. For kids. Or cats. Or birds, apparently,” Yelena sighed. 

“You ask for trained professional with background check. We don’t even pass background check!” Alexei shouted. He did have a point, there. 

Bob was about to argue he didn’t need a babysitter, but he probably actually did. He couldn’t be left alone with his thoughts for too long, or he’d spiral real fast. Not good. 

“I mean, besides the company I really don’t think I need someone with much experience or training,” he shrugged. 

“See! Bob agrees. Sitter is sitter,” Alexei grumbled. 

“We’ll talk about this over dinner with the rest of the team,” Yelena spoke, and it was the final word. 

✶

You walked out of the grocery store enlightened. That’s where you’d seen the father-daughter duo before. The Wheaties box. They were part of the so-called ‘New Avengers’. It had been a few months since The Blackout, but you remembered it well. One second you’d been filling the 17 food bowls in Mrs. Lowinski’s kitchen, the next you were back in your childhood home.

You unlocked the front door and loaded your groceries in the cabinets and fridge. You sighed as you sat down on the couch, ready to call Mrs. Lowinski for your job back and to get back on Sitters NYC for more part-time work you could combine with your online classes.

Manhattan - Full-time 3 Children, aged 4, 6 & 9

Brooklyn - Part-time  4 Dogs

Queens - Au Pair 2 Children, aged 5 & 7 1 Cat

Manhattan - Part-time 3 Birds 1 Dog

Manhattan - Part-time 1 Child, age UNDISCLOSED

Ah, Alexei hadn’t taken the ad down yet. He’d been so nice, too. From what he’d described, you figured it was an older child, possibly a teenager, even, who needed someone to spend some time with every now and then. Not allowed to go out by themselves too much, irregular schedule, possible overnight stays. Nothing you couldn’t handle. Too bad it had been a misunderstanding. 

You walked into the kitchen and got ready to prepare dinner for one, again. One day you might put yourself out there. ‘Find someone real nice to take care of you,’ as Mrs. Lowinski had insisted. God, you had really spent too much time with the elderly woman. 

✶

“It really doesn’t sound like a bad idea,” Ava spoke as she munched on some broccoli. 

“It’s not a bad idea, per se, it’s more that there’s factors we need to account for that Alexei overlooked. Like the fact that Bob is essentially a weapon that could be taken advantage of by the wrong person if we let them get too close,” Yelena had a point. 

“I’m not that naive…” Bob chimed in, but everybody knew he was easily influenced. Not to mention he couldn’t control The Void, and where The Sentry was, The Void followed. They couldn’t risk it. 

“I ran a background check, she’s just a college student. We can try it out with the next mission and see if Bob likes her. That’s the most important part, after all,” John argued. He grabbed the pot of potatoes and loaded a pile onto his plate, never satiated. 

“Bob, be like John, eat loads of potatoes. Good for strength,” Alexei’s mouth was full as he spoke. Bob gave him a small smile in acknowledgement, raising his fork which had a potato on it. 

“What does Bucky think?” Ava asked. The man rarely joined them for dinner, usually ‘too busy.’ 

“Haven’t spoken with him about it yet. I’ll call him after dinner to discuss. We need something if we’re gonna be as busy as Valentina is implying we’ll be,” Yelena sighed, stuffing her mouth with chicken. 

“Bob, can you pass me the salt?” She asked, mouth full. The apple doesn’t fall far from the tree. 

They finished dinner and Bob went to clean up as usual while Yelena called Bucky on speakerphone, still at the dining table. 

“I mean if she passed a background check I see no issue with at least trying it out. It’s not like we have many other options. He doesn’t need an actual caretaker. At least she’s somewhat his age, right? Maybe a little younger?” Bucky’s voice boomed from the phone and filled the room. The man was so up to date with technology, yet was still convinced he needed to talk louder if he was on speaker. 

“I guess. I’ll have Alexei call her back. But it’s NOT my fault if this all goes wrong!” Yelena made it very clear. She was not about to be blamed if this ended in disaster. Best possible outcome; the girl did fine, blended in and spent time with Bob. Worst possible outcome? Who knows. 

✶

”Are you really sure this time?” You asked Alexei over the phone. You’d been down this road with him before. 

“Yes, Yelena asked me to call you herself. You come by tonight to meet the team and meet Bob. Will be fun!” 

“Alright, I’ll be there by 9,” you confirmed. Who named their child Bob in this day and age? 

“See you at 9!” Alexei boasted. The man hung up and you stared at your phone bewildered. He better be right. You better not be going back there for nothing again.

If you wanted to be on time, you’d have to leave soon. You put your shoes back on, grabbed your headphones and bag and ran back out the door. You locked it behind you and sped down the stairs of your building. 

You walked to the subway station and put your earbuds in. Luckily the tower was only a few stops away, or this whole ordeal might’ve been more of a nuisance. The lights flickered irregularly as the metrocar shook through the underground. It seemed as though it was having more trouble than usual, but your trip was short, it didn’t matter as long as you got to your destination. 

The car shook some more as you got off, but it was no longer of any worry. You ran up the stairs of the station and were once again met directly with the entrance to the tower, the second time today. 

You walked back in and pressed the button for the elevator to come down. You sighed and got on, pressing the button for the penthouse and waited for the doors to close. The last thing you saw before they closed was the glass entrance of the tower being shattered. You flinched on instinct, but the elevator was already taking you up and away from the danger. Your heart thrummed in your chest. Was it just an accident, or was something bigger going on? 

Your question was soon answered by an announcement over the intercom. Everybody below the top twenty floors had to evacuate the building. Not you, then. Still, you were worried. 

The elevator came to a halt at the penthouse, doors sliding open agonizingly slow. You were met with a ruckus of people walking around yelling at each other. 

“Babysitter is here!” Alexei yelled as he tugged a red mask over his face. 

“Well that’s great timing, I guess,” Yelena spoke as she sheathed a few knives. She turned to look at you. 

“Bob is in the kitchen. You just need to keep him company for now while we go deal with whatever is going on on the street. We’ll explain everything when we get back. Whatever you do, try to keep him happy, distracted and away from danger. If anything happens to him, your funeral.” The instructions (and threat) were clear. 

Several people with an assortment of weapons bustled around you as you found your way to the kitchen. You looked around for a child, but there didn’t seem to be one in here. The only person you found was the guy you saw getting off the elevator earlier today, with the comfy outfit and tousled hair. He was seated at the breakfast island, watching as the others got ready for what you assumed would be quite the fight. 

“Uh, hi?” It came out as a question unintentionally. He turned to you, your first time catching a good look at his face. 

“Oh! Hi, uhm, you must be the, uh, sitter?” He rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly. You nodded, putting your bag on the counter and looking him over. You looked around again, no child or teen in sight. 

“Aren’t you supposed to be, like, getting ready for battle?” You mimicked a fighting pose. He chuckled and shook his head. 

“No, it’s usually best to keep me as far away from those kinds of situations as possible…” He looked away, obviously not proud of the fact.

You sought out eye contact and reached out your hand. He looked at it before looking back to your eyes, tentatively reaching out. You introduced yourself and stretched your hand out further, encouraging him to take it. He was like a skittish kitten.

“I’m Bob,” was all you heard before your vision was delved in black and you returned to a memory from a past life left behind.

CHAPTER 2

[abybweisse]

Ch214 (p1); Hospitality part 1

Why does this look a bit like Sebastian with a man bun? 👇

One of the first elevators. This really is a state of the art building.

[cressidagrey]

64.media.tumblr.com

White Horse - Chapter 17: May 2024 - Part 1

Pairing: Max Verstappen x Isabelle Leclerc (Original Character)

Summary:

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

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

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

Warnings and Notes: 

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

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

Leclerc Sibling Group Chat

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

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

Arthur: Isabelle? You usually handle it.

Isabelle: Not this year.

Lorenzo: Sorry, what?

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

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

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

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

Charles: Since when?

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

Arthur: Okay, but… you like that stuff.

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

Charles: Whoa.

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

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

Lorenzo: This feels aggressive.

Isabelle: It’s not. It’s a boundary.

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

Arthur: Yeah. This is really inconvenient.

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

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

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

Arthur: So you’re really not doing anything?

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

Lorenzo: This feels like a test.

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

Charles: I feel emotionally manipulated.

Lorenzo: I feel abandoned.

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

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

Leclerc Brothers Group Chat

(Members: Arthur, Charles and Lorenzo)

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

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

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

Arthur: This feels personal.

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

Lorenzo: We should’ve started this earlier.

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

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

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

Arthur: Peace. Quiet. 

Charles: So a spa day?

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

Arthur: She is stressed. We exist.

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

Lorenzo: Absolutely not.

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

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

Lorenzo: We are panicking.

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

Arthur:  I feel like a neglected plant.

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

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

Lorenzo: ...We’re hopeless.

***

Text Messages: Isabelle Leclerc & Charles Leclerc

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

Isabelle: Charles it’s 2am

Isabelle: Go to sleep.

Isabelle: Maman doesn’t even like pottery. 

Charles: How about a goat?

Isabelle: A what?

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

Isabelle: She lives in an apartment, Charles.

Charles: A small goat.

Isabelle: No.

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

Isabelle: This is you spiraling.

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

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

***

Group Chat: HELP ME

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

Oscar: HE DID IT

George: HE ACTUALLY DID IT

Carlos: LAAAAAAAAAANDOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

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

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

Lando: guys…

Carlos: YOU’RE HERE? GO POP CHAMPAGNE

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

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

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

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

Alex: Yes. Obviously. We ride at dawn.

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

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

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

Oscar: I WASN’T …shut up

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Lando: I can’t even be mad

Kimi: Took you long enough.

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

Carlos: Let him breathe 😭

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

Fernando: It was inevitable. That’s all.

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

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

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

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

Lewis: No you haven’t.

Alex: Absolutely not.

Oscar: Zero evidence of that.

Lando: I love you guys. Thank you. Seriously

George: We’re gonna get so insufferable about this

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

***

Text Messages: Isabelle Leclerc & Lando Norris

Isabelle:  You did it. 🧡

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

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

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

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

Lando: Don’t you dare Actually Do it

Isabelle:  I will. After you finish that coconut

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

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

Lando: okay fair thank you, Belle really

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

Lando: From Monaco?

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

***

Text Messages: Max Verstappen & Isabelle Leclerc

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

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

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

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

Max: Promise. Love you. 

[Monday, Much, Much Later]

Max: BELLE

Max: U R SO PRETTY

Max: LIKE. ACTUALLY. PRETTY PRETTY

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

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

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

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

Max: i miss u

[Much, Much Later]

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

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

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

Max: …Did I actually type that?

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

Max: I hate myself

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

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

Max: Okay that one stands. I mean it.

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

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

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

Max: You still love me?

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

Max: 😤 Uncalled for.

Isabelle: Call me when you’re functional. 

Max: You’re too good to me.

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

Max: Can confirm. ***

Text Messages: Emilie Abadie & Isabelle Leclerc

Emilie: Okay so… Question

Isabelle: That’s always a dangerous start.

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

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

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

Isabelle: Valid.

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

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

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

Isabelle: Yes.

Emilie: And the jawbones?

Isabelle: Yes.

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

Isabelle: …Why do you care?

Emilie: I don’t!!

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Emilie: So a golden retriever.

Isabelle: With slightly better hair.

Emilie: Does he bite?

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

Emilie: Hmm.

Isabelle: Oh no.

Emilie: What?

Isabelle: You’re thinking about him.

Emilie: Absolutely not.

Emilie: This is slander.

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

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

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

Emilie: …Okay maybe I get the hats now.

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

***

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

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

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

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

“This place wasn’t my first choice.”

Belle smiled tightly. “Arthur booked it.”

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

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

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

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

Pascale’s brow twitched. “Oh?”

“I told them weeks ago.”

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

“Yes. Just me.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Experiential?” Pascale repeated, arching a brow.

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

Their mother stared at him like he had sprouted wings. 

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

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

Belle sipped her water.

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

“Yes,” Belle said simply.

“No group gift this year?”

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

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

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

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

“That was the problem.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yes,” Belle said. “I do.”

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

“I remembered,” Belle said.

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

And there it was.

Not cruelty. Not even anger.

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

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

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

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

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

Belle forced a smile. “I will be.”

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

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

Belle didn’t answer.

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

And maybe, just maybe, that was the point.

***

Text Messages: Isabelle Leclerc & Emilie Abadie

Isabelle: I survived.

Emilie: Emotionally or just physically?

Isabelle: ...Barely both.

Emilie: How bad?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Isabelle: Yeah.

Emilie: I’m proud of you, by the way.

Isabelle: For what? Ruining lunch?

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

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

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

***

The apartment was unusually quiet.

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

“Belle?” he called.

No answer.

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

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

Instead, he found her asleep on the couch.

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

But now?

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

And all three cats were piled on top of her.

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

Max smiled softly.

The cats knew. Of course they did.

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

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

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

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

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

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

Max kissed her temple. Light. Barely there.

“I’ve got you,” he murmured.

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

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

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

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

***

She woke up slowly.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Max didn’t respond right away. He waited.

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

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

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

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

“I felt like the villain for saying no.”

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

“She said I remembered differently.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

Belle looked up at him.

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

She blinked fast.

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

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

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

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

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

***

Text Messages: Max Verstappen & Emilie Abadie

Max: The horse is here.

Emilie: WAIT WHAT???

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

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

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

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

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

Emilie: That depends. Do I need a forklift?

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

Emilie: ...Max.

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

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

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

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

Max: You’re a lifesaver.

Emilie: I know. What’s the budget?

Max: No budget.

Emilie: …Max.

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

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

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

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

Max: I’m overwhelmed.

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

Max: Color coordination???

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

Max: …No?

Emilie: Good answer.

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

Emilie: That’s easy. She does.

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

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

Max: That’s the goal.

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

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

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

Max: That’s the plan.

***

Text Messages: Max Verstappen & Lando Norris

Max: Hey. You know about horses, right?

Lando: … Why would I know about horses?

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

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

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

Lando: MAX WHAT

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

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

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

Lando: Jesus Christ.

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

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

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

Lando: MAX

Max: WHAT IF I’M A BAD HORSE DAD

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

Max: Unhelpful.

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

(Two minutes pass.)

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

Max: What does colicky mean?

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

Max: She’s not doing any of that.

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

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

Lando: You need a hobby.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

***

Group Chat: HELP ME

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

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

Carlos: what???

George: what do you mean Horse Dad.

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

Oscar: he bought her a pregnant horse???

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

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

Daniel: What was he panicking about ?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

George: How did we get here

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

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

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

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

Lewis: She's going to cry

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

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

Oscar: i love love.

Fernando: We are watching the evolution of a man.

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

Sebastian: This is growth.

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

Lewis: You mean we’re not already?

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

***

Text Messages: Lando Norris & Oscar Piastri

Lando: Okay this might be a stupid question

Oscar: Those are your specialty, go on

Lando: Should we get Belle a birthday gift?

Oscar: Like… us? Together??

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

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

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

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

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

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

Oscar: Max didn’t even stand a chance

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

Lando: You mean Flo?

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

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

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

Oscar: She says that sounds like quitter energy.

Lando: Okay but seriously I will text Flo.

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

Lando: Or like a custom halter for the foal? 

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

Lando: STOP I’M EMOTIONAL

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

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

Oscar: Our love language is semi-coordinated panic

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

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

***

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Belle nodded again. “Yeah.”

Another pause.

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

“You’re still saving them,” he said.

Belle straightened slightly. “I’m not.”

“You are.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Belle didn’t answer. Her throat felt tight.

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

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

She closed her eyes.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Belle’s eyes burned.

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

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

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

***

Text Messages: Max Verstappen & Sophie Kumpen

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Sophie: Belle remembered that from months ago?

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

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

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

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

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

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

Max: Okay, okay. I’ll tell her.

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

Max: Yeah. Feels like that to me too.

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

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

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

Max: Will do ❤️ Love you.

Sophie: Love you too, Maxie. ***

Text Messages: Charles Leclerc & Alexandra Saint Mleux

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

Alexandra: Yes.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Charles: That’s not fair.

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

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

Alexandra: You mean honesty? Accountability?

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

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

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

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

Charles: Alex…

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

Charles: Wait—are you seriously mad enough to—

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

Charles: ...Okay.

Alexandra: Start with a phone call to your mother.

Charles: Yeah. Okay.

***

Leclerc Sibling Group Chat

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

Charles: So… today’s Mother’s Day.

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

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

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

Charles: You always used to remind us, Isabelle.

Lorenzo: Kind of your thing.

Isabelle: I’m not doing that anymore.

Charles: We noticed.

Arthur: You could’ve at least said something.

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

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

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

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

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

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

Isabelle: Because it’s not my job.

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

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

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

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

Charles: Wait… seriously?

Isabelle: Yes.

Lorenzo: You didn’t tell us.

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

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

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

Charles: You’re really different lately.

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

Lorenzo: Well. Thanks, I guess.

Arthur: Next year maybe give us a little warning?

***

Leclerc Family Group Chat

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

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

Charles: Aw, Maman ❤️ You deserve it!!

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

Lorenzo: Only the best for you, Maman 😘

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

Lorenzo: We definitely had it covered 😌

Charles: Worked as a team.

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

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

Pascale: Love you all. 💕

***

Text Messages: Max Verstappen & Emilie Abadie

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

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

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

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

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

Emilie: She’s still saving them.

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

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

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

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

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

Emilie: She deserves better.

Max: I keep telling her that.

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

Max: Yeah. I know.

Emilie: How is she?

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

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

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

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

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

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

Max: I still wish I could do more.

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

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

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

Max: Yeah. That I can do.

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

Max: I’ll drive the boat.

***

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

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

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

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

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

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

She gave him a look. “Subtle.”

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

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

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

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

She arched an eyebrow. “You wish.”

“I absolutely do,” he said cheerfully.

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

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

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

“Worth every euro.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

Max tilted his head. “You sure?”

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

He grinned. “You want a Belle Day.”

“Exactly.”

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

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

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

***

Meanwhile on Twitter: 

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

@/Charles_Leclerc: I can adopt you if needed. 

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

@/Charles_Leclerc: what

@/F1fanatic91: I’m sorry. WHAT.

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

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

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

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

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

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

@/f1fluff:  this is so accidentally wholesome it hurts

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

***

Leclerc Sibling Group Chat

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

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

Isabelle: Hello to you too, Charles.

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

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

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

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

Isabelle: Charles.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

***

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I thought so too,” Belle said smugly.

“She’d eat him alive.”

“He’d love it.”

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

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

“You’re terrifying.”

“You say that like it’s a bad thing.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

He was not an easy man—everyone knew it.

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

And yet, Max still loved him.

Not blindly. Not without scars. But intentionally.

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

Max loved him.

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

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

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

She suspected that made her an exception.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I was. Took a detour.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“He loves you,” Belle said quietly.

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

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

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

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

Belle understood anyway.

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

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

Jos nodded. “He does.”

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

Belle’s throat tightened. “Thank you.”

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

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

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

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

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

“I’ll deny everything,” Belle promised.

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

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

***

Meanwhile on Twitter: 

@/MonacoMadness:

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

THE EYE CONTACT.

WAKE UP SHEEPLE.

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

@/SprinkleTheory:

REMEMBER THE SPRINKLE CONVERSATION???

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

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

@/CharlesStan97:

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

@/OscarPSpyCam:

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

***

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

“Why were you talking to Jos Verstappen?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You smiled at him, Belle!”

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

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

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

Charles blinked. “That’s not—”

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

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

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

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

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

“Belle—”

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

Charles faltered. “I didn’t mean—”

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

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

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

Belle didn’t look back.

[thetreetopinn]

Sources for Somerton's Plagiarism from Hbomberguy's Video (as much as I could get)

I went back through Harry's video, focused entirely on the sources James Somerton pulled from in the hopes of creating as much of a comprehensive list as I could--though my Google-Fu is not very strong. I did however find something I thought was forever lost and that made me very happy--specifically the magazine Midlands Zone containing the column by Steven Spinks that Harry poignantly used as an illustration of gay erasure... while Somerton uses it to sound like HE is waxing remorseful about the very subject.

This is not a complete list, I'm sure. For one thing, I was only able to attempt to pull sources that Harry himself mentioned in the video. Surely there's so very much more out there. I expect there to be a great deal more internet archeology to unearth just how much writing and culture Somerton has stolen like he's the British Museum of Natural History but for gay people.

- - - - -

Harry's list of mentioned youtubers:

Alexander Avila - https://www.youtube.com/@alexander_avila Matt Baume - https://www.youtube.com/@MattBaume Khadija Mbowe - https://www.youtube.com/@KhadijaMbowe Lady Emily - https://www.youtube.com/@LadyEmilyPresents Shanspeare - https://www.youtube.com/@Shanspeare RickiHirsch - https://www.youtube.com/@RickiHirsch VerilyBitchie - https://www.youtube.com/@verilybitchie

Harry created a convenient playlist of videos by these and other people he wants to bring to everyone's attention.

Please give them your support.

- - - - -

Midlands Zone Magazine - Column by Steven Spinks

After a great deal of searching, I found an archive of the "Midlands Zone" magazine, where you can read through past issues dating all the way back to February 2014. I have also found the issue from which Somerton took Spinks' poignant discussion of gay erasure: Overall archive Specific Issue - Pages 16-17

It will not allow you to download it, but you can read it exactly as it appeared in print form.

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My best effort to find the exact book or article Somerton lifted from to be able to get attention to the original writers

Tinker Bells and Evil Queens By Sean Griffin

The Celluloid Closet By Vito Russo Wikipedia article about the book Wikipedia article about the documentary My weak google-fu could not find where you can access the book or documentary. Check your local municipal or university library for book or documentary, or if you know a good source for one or both, please reblog with it added

Camp and the Gay Sensibility By Jack Babuscio

The Groundbreaking Queerness of Disney's Mulan By Jes Tom Personal site with links to social media accounts

Why Rebel Without a Cause was a milestone for gay rights By Peter Howell

Why "The Craft" is still the best Halloween coming out movie By Andrew Park

Opinion: From facehuggers to phallic tails, is 'Alien' one of the queerest films ever? By Dani Leever

Women and Queerness in Horror: Jennifer's Body By Zoe Fortier

[Pride 2019] We Have Such Sights to Show You: Hellraiser and the Spectrum of Queerness By Alejandra Gonzalez

Revealing the Hellbound Heart of Clive Barker's 'Hellraiser' By Colin Arason

Queering James Cameron's Aliens (1986) By Bart Bishop

Demeter and Persephone in space: transformation, femininity, and myth in the 'Alien' films By David Greven

Fears of a millennial masculinity: Scream's queer killers By David Greven (Scholarly site, unable to access original work, offers a way to request a full copy of the text in PDF)

Queer Subtext in Stephen King's It - Part 1: 'Reddie' Character Analysis By Rachel Brands Rachel is the very unfortunate lady who found out she was being stolen from because she supported Somerton through Patreon and saw one of his videos early with her writing--lacking any form of citation or credit

How 'It: Chapter Two' Leaves Richie Tozier Behind By Joelle Monique

When Horror Becomes Strength: Queer Armor in Stephen King's 'IT' By Alex London

Why Queer People Love Witchcraft By Amanda Kohr

'The Favourite' Queers The Past And The Present By Giorgi Plys-Garzotto

(Wuko) Crush (Mako x Wu) By MoonFlower on YouTube

5 Terrible Movies With Awesome Hidden Meanings By J.F. Sargent

The Radicalization of Sexuality: The Queer Casae of Jeffrey Dahmer By Ian Barnard

Netflix's 'Dahmer' backlash highlights ethical issues in the platform's obsession with true crime By Shivani Dubey

The Possible Disturbing Dissonance Between Hajime Isayama's Beliefs and Attack on Titan's Themes Original Article by "Seldom Musings" (Author has made all posts not related to Attack On Titan private and has retired from the blog)

Everyone Loves Attack on Titan. So Why Does Everyone Hate Attack on Titan? By Gita Jackson

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The following people are otherwise named in the video. There are no direct citations of articles or books by them in said video. I am unable to guarantee that I have identified the correct individual.

Darren Elliott-Smith Michaela Barton David Church Claire Sisco King Amanda Howell Jessica Roy

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Telos announced and cancelled a film likely based on this book: The Final Girl Support Group - By Grady Hendrix

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I refrained from including certain sources.

First off only focusing on Somerton's work.

Secondly not including anything that might be visible enough to not require amplifying their voice (I cannot speak for all of those I have found links to, but journalism is frequently a thankless job).

Thirdly any source that is of a nature that is antithetical to the very existence of the queer community, such as the right-leaning source that didn't make it into Somerton's video, but Harry was able to identify as a source he had considered using.

If you feel I have missed a mentioned source--or you know of a source from material that was not covered in Harry's video--please do not hesitate to reblog with added details.

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Please share this information far and wide, and please add to it if you find more material that can be positively identified and linked to the creator/writer.

[cursedartistnelari]

Part 1 / Part 2

Ok, so someone really loved the comic i made a few months ago and paid me to do a second part. You guys surprise me for the better HAHAHA i love you all <3

This comic is based on chapter 17 from "you snuck your way right into my heart". I had to change a few things since this is the graphic version of @larsforevermore 's story ❤ but I LOVE THE FINAL RESULT

[kyri45]

And when the day kisses the night you know that, even after the dark, the light will shine on a new sunrise.

AT LONG LAST.

AT LONG.

LAST.

THE BITCHES. FINALLY. KISSED!!!!!!!

SHADOWPEACH IS OFFICIALLY CANON!!1!1!1 (in the au)

Shadowpeach Bio Parent AU (PREV/ FIRST / NEXT )

Next part is coming on February 8th, 1PM ET

You can bet your ass they kept making out on the way to heaven.

More rambling and Horizontal and vertical versions of the kiss under the cut!

Well, what can I say. It's been a long journey, but the Shadowpeach Bio Parents AU can finally be officially a "Shadowpeach-canon" AU ahah. Hopefully the slow-burn wasn't too painful. I put my heart on my sleeve when I say that I swore to myself that as soon as the two bitches completely, fully forgive each other, then, and only then, they could have their moment.

Then, something something-having your true form while doing an act/saying something means showing the honesty of what you are saying/doing-something something

I laughed my ass off so many times while drawing panel 7 bc like- Mac is just "omg this idiot is so stupid, he's my idiot, I love him so much"

lastly, finally, FINALLY, I don't have to hold back anymore! Prepare yourself, Im gonna go full blast with these bitches. If you thought whatever they were doing before was gay, BOY DO I HAVE NEWS FOR YOU. this story might as well turn intp a FWP (plot? what plot? fluff without plot)

hehe mac in panel 17 is like "oh NO U DON'T! PUT YOUR MOUTH WHERE IT BELONGS

Maybe this is not as epic or as a boom as the spicynoodle kiss. But that's kind of the point. They are the doomned toxic yaoi who healed in the past 6 months. They have always been together kind of. A kiss is just one of the hundreds other actions and words they shared during all the other parts of the story. They loved each other well before this chapter. So a kiss is just a natural course of them re-discovering each other and their intimacy. They sleep together (literally sleeping together, not sex yet) they comfort each other at their lowest, they saw each other inner selfs, they call each other nicknames, they call each other beautiful. I mean this was less of a "Slow Burn" and more a "put it in the microwave cause it got cold so that it slowly get warm again, but the food was already cooked"