#��... yael's talking

[acid-ixx]

Jon accidentally showing Damian a photo of reader, (I LOVE YOUR NEW FICS, IM OBSESSED, YOU'RE A TALENTED WRITER PLEASE LIVE FOREVER)

— related post !

yall hahaha... i got a fever for 2 whole days and just recovered right now hence why i wasnt able to reply to asks since i was in so much pain 💔 but anyways—

OMG 😭 !!! this is so beautiful wth ?? the confused look that damian gives jon, jon literally saying "they've been my parent ever since" like yes !! the fact that jon already sees you as a parental figure the moment clark meets you is such a wonderful implication. you don't need to prove yourself to the kent family to be considered as part of theirs, and i think that's such an opposing symbolism towards the batfamily because after all the times you tried your best to be there for them, all the wasted efforts— just for everything to be nothing. but with the kent family, all you need to do is greet them with a smile then suddenly you're part of their lives forever and ever. and yes, there's times where clark refuses you to go outside but with jon's company, you wouldn't really find a way to complain, right?

tysm for sending this in ! it is so pretty and ofc i love how you drew jon and damian in your artstyle and idk if it's intentional but the slight curl in jon's hair reminds me of superman's curl.

and for everyone, ty all for literally blowing up the fanfic?? i didn't expect it to get so much traction since i didn't have much of a direction for how i want it to go but yes i will write more for the series (hence the "#series" tag)

also... watch out for an upcoming soulmate au because... why not hehe

[perilegs]

chat do we think i have a type

[jewishcissiekj]

Look at my Doctor dawg I'm going to fulfill my Mutant drea- *gunshot* (my Moira ramblings and other stuff under the cut)

it's no secret that I'm fond of evil women but honestly at first I did like Moira for her kind heart (helping found Krakoa<3) and selfless actions (killing her son<3) and for being played by Rose Byrne but her immoral behaviors have captivated my heart and I love her for being her awful self now. And. Obviously the Hickman Moira X retcon does not line up with most everything in her old comics but I do find it fascinating to look at classic Moira through the retcon lens, since it's not like she's a saint to begin with and there's a fun quality to her knowledge and experience and the facade she supposedly puts on. Visually I fell in love with her because of Rose Byrne but likeness is hard to capture so let's pretend I combined Rose Byrne and comic Moira for this drawing lmao (I did work with a pinterest board full of pictures of both so i did technically do that)

also, I took pictures of this drawing at different stages and I think it's cool seeing how it changes

and the full picture of the current drawing before i adjusted it digitally a bit

I also doodled a few Muir Island residents around her and gave them some colors even if I don't really like how they came out

overall I think Moira's an awful woman and I love her for it and she's compelling sometimes which is nice and I think she looks cool and she's invaded my brain and it'll take a while to get her out and I have a few AUs centering her running around in my mind ok that's all (yes I drew her with no eyebrows so just pretend her bangs are covering them)

[143aina]

An acquaintance of mine asked what is my type. I couldn't answer.

Why is that? Because it is personal, and also because they wouldn't understand if I tell them my type is Yael. From @/kleinv01

[docholligay]

The Lions of Al-Rassan

Non-spoilery: A very interesting take on what it means to have something be “fantasy”. It actually kind of worked for me: This is an alt history of the crumbling of Moorish Spain.  There are no dragons or wizards or whatever the fuck. It calls itself fantasy because it renames the Jews and Christians and Muslims and El Cid and all that shit and then does whatever the fuck it wants with the history. I love a good Not!Place, but also...I would have accused this book of presentism VIOLENTLY. But then it calls itself fantasy. The fantasy is that people living in Asharite Spain on the edge of the Reconquista are going to act in ways entirely palatable to a mid 90s Canadian dude. And you know? WEIRDLY I WAS VERY FINE WITH THAT. It felt very truth in advertising. But I can only be pushed so far and boy did it sail on past that.

SPOILERY:

You ever read something, and have a BIG problem with it, and that big problem magnifies all the tiny problems you had with it? This was me and the Lions of Al-Rassan.

If you haven’t read this, you need to know a few offhand terms: Asharite = Muslim, Jaddite = Christian, Kindath = Jewish. This is very unsubtle in the text, so I promise you I am not stretching this when I say that. I’m not saying that in a negative way! Just a truthful one.

The good:

I love fake!Europe shit, like most basic Western bitches, because I know enough to never feel lost, but there’s a lot of flexibility there. I thought it was clever the way Kay has all three religions worshiping different aspects of the same sky in a none-too-subtle tip of the hand to his own thoughts on the matter.

I know I talked about this above, but I LOVED this sort of take on what it means for a book to be “fantasy” to a point. I feel Kay pressed that point til it bled, but I don’t think it always HAS to be that way, if he had backed it off JUST a hair, I think it could have killed. But make no mistake, Rodrigo and Jehane and Ammar act exactly the way you hope they will.

I thought it presented the history really well for people who had no idea. You would not need to know anything about the Iberian peninsula, including like, where it is, in order to enjoy this book.

There are SOME characters that you are allowed to love and hate in equal measure, or not understand. Unfortunately, they are all side characters, but I appreciate it anyway. The various kings of the lands are presented as imperfect beings at best.

The bad:

I mean, this is more the eh, but it’s hilarious to me that they try and set Rodrigo up as a distinctive choice for Jehane when we know like, from the word go that she’s going to end up with Ammar. I mean, come on. I didn’t care for the love triangle aspect anyhow, but this was just silly.

For fuck’s sake. For, the sake of fuck. The moment I gave up on this book was the moment they had a fucking blind man do brain surgery in the desert and the kid does so fine he grows up to be royal advisor. And this is after me giving the book MULTIPLE leaps in this direction. I waved it off, and waved it off, and when it came to this, a moment that could have actually been about the fucking bill for war, and how it comes to door, and when you live by the sword you die by it, but that’s not the issue, when you live by it, people who admire you choose to live by it as well, and in that, THEY sometimes die by it, and you have to know it was you that brought them there. Then, this brain surgery that doesn’t always work NOW, and certainly not without the risk of lasting damage (SKULL SMASHED IN BY A WAR HAMMER) works perfectly and fine and I was done. I was emotionally fucking done with the book. It could have done almost anything from that point on and could not have saved it, but only because this was a REPEATED offense, and this was the time they expected me to get emotionally involved.

Jehane never fails. Her father never fails. She either says it can’t be done, or she wins the day, but she never tries to save a patient and bitterly fails. This annoyed me, given the arts she was working with.

the ugly:

Eta: I am CLEARLY so much angrier about this next part than I thought I was. You’ve been warned, rant incoming

The 90s were a different time than the time in which I am currently living but Jesus “We killed him once and we’ll do it again” Christ, who do I have to kill for every Kindath not to be a peerless and upstanding moral fortress of loyalty and good? I don’t know if Kay is trying to exorcise something, or if he’s Jewish and trying to make people like Jews, or whatever, but I grew REAL tired of every single Kindath being a saint. It’s one thing to have Jehane lash herself the mast of her oath and refuse to go against it even in the face of the murderers of her own people, even in the face of the slaughterers of children. Great. We love an oath that takes its signature in blood in this house.

It’s quite another to have every single motherfucking Jew standin gracefully take horrific fucking treatment without deeply held resentment or desire for revenge. Her father is literally BLINDED and has his TONGUE CUT OUT for saving the kind’s mistress, and he says he’d do it again because of his oath to Galinus. I think it might have been appropriate for him to maybe not let that one go. Or for Jehane not to let that one go.

Actually--you know, I actually could have not just taken this, but loved this if it ever REALLY cost her something. So early in the novel she says she is going to make the king who did this fucking pay. I love that for her. But the book removes this from her aspect. Not only is she not the one who kills him, she’s not even there when it happens. So you have this moment where she could have been between her anger and her oath, and it could have been really compelling, but you don’t ever actually believe her anger. Because Kay sets the Kindath up as these people constantly fucking apologizing for being murdered.

Even Mazur, the advisor who is probably the closest to being a not-fantastic-all-th-time (but basically though) Kindath, chooses to sacrifice himself to torture and death to save his king. A Kindath who is murdered in the street by an Asharite mob was trying to save an Asharite child. Jehane hears about the destruction of a Jewish town, hears about babies being cut in two by swords for the crime of being born Kindath, and when Rodrigo is like “Oh, I am so sad, for I told you my people were to be trusted, and now they are not :(” Jehane, instead of saying something like, ‘I know what your people are, even if you don’t.” or something appropriately salty, is like, ‘I know it wasn’t you :) I would never judge you by your people:) You’re not like other girls :)” And you know what? Fuck you.

This probably wouldn’t have bothered me if it was JUST Jehane, but all the Kindath have this sort of thing going on. No one is angry. No one is resentful. No one wants to tell the Asharites or Jaddites to go fuck themselves, even in their own homes. It would have been nice to at least have Jehane be human enough to let whether or not Garcia de Rada (For those who haven’t read: A murderer and rapist) got an infection on his fucking cheek be between him and God, whichever that might be. But no, we can’t do that, because we’re a Kindath character, and so we have to tell him to clean up.

I did not actually realize how much this bothered me until I was sitting here writing this, but CLEARLY it did.

Also, I rolled my eyes so heavily when her parents were like, “That’s fine! We’re happy you found someone who doesn’t share our culture or ways of being, whose people have murdered ours whenever things get too hot. As long as you’re happy, honey!” There’s less struggle than Fiddler on the fucking Roof.

For all this, I actually wouldn’t say I hate this book! I just think it’s middling. A solid 5/10, 7/10 once I chill out maybe. I love the POSSIBILITY of it, I love the IDEA of it, but it ends up being more of a romance in many ways than it does a sweeping alt-history. I loved the first oh, 300 pages or so of it, and gave it a pass on the medical nonsense and presentism until it just passed a point for me where I was like “give a bitch a break”. I would not recommend this for people looking for complex Jewish characters. The Kindath don’t get to be complex. They get to be perfect victims.

[yaelibex]

sometimes all u need to do to feel better from the big sad is to moo at your childhood friend

[pokemonranch]

//Woah this one really broke containment. Im... Happy about it? I think??

Hey did you know that running into a bunch of Wooloos at night look EXTREMELY MENACING

[fried-marshmelon]

There isn’t a version of me that could have looked away from you

[cherishedteddie]

Takes a mental health day ( off from work ) to stay home and be mentally ill ( finish the last season of degrassi next class and cry my fucking eyes out )

[acid-ixx]

Okay, how about we call Alfred dad??? Sense he raised us and practically is our dad. Sorry I keep on asking. I just am a thinker

series masterlist

a/n: don't be sorry for asking ! i like answering asks even if i do answer really slowly, so don't be afraid to send in questions ! this is a continuation to this ask.

it would actually be a given that if the reader wasn't too broken to the point that they genuinely could never consider anyone as a father figure, then alfred would be someone they would call their dad.

because at least in their 15 years they had been inside the manor, alfred would always be the one who would stand by their side. even if it's not always, he would be there for you when he could. and that effort alone is enough to consider him worthy as your father.

pre-yandere bruce wouldn't even know of your tight-knit relationship with alfred; calling him dad when you skip through the halls with him, calling him your "actual father" whenever you two would bake together, and even going as far as gifting him a mug with 'no. 1 dad!' painted sloppily into the ceramic. alfred would even teach you how to crochet, so you two would get matching sweaters for winter. although alfred wouldn't wear the sweater for the sake of formality, you would always be aware that he stores them somewhere safe and warm as some sort of treasure.

so, imagine just how heartbroken bruce would be once you are abducted by your family, calling out to your dad in your drugged state on your bed, bruce thinking that it was him that you're calling for help when all of a sudden, you make grabby-hands towards alfred, eyes hazily looking at the butler with such desperation that it feels like alfred is your actual father.

seeing you two act so close, bruce would be so, so conflicted. because at least, in the years of solitude you had spent, you find comfort in the very same man bruce considers as his father figure. but at the same time it should've been him that you call your father, it should've been bruce you look at for help and guidance, it should've been him that lulls you back to sleep, wiping the tears that run down your face.

it breaks his heart even further once he discovers all the little trinkets that you make for alfred, all the inside jokes you two share, the gifts you cherish in your cabinets from the apartment you used to live in; they were all from alfred— bruce wants to kick himself realizing that he never made an effort to gift you anything in your 15 years of living in the manor as a ghost.

bruce swears on his life that he'll make it up to you, that despite him being unable to stay the night frequently with you that he'll make it up during the day. he'll take you to business meetings, to arcades, to malls; literally anywhere to get you to bond with him as much as you did alfred.

he'll schedule holidays where the entire family is required to join and you'll be the center of attention. your birthdays will be extravagant, he would spend millions to make a show that you're his favorite child; that means he'll spoil you with gifts that pertain to your hobbies. and because your family loves you so much, please do expect a minimum of 10 gifts prepared by all your siblings and a credit card with no limit for bruce.

oh? you don't need material things? don't worry, you'll be surprised with just how meticulously your father would plan for vacations. any place you would choose would be taken into heavy consideration, even planning with him would feel like some sort of father-child bonding.

but really, he'll commit all his time and effort for you.

bruce would do everything to make you consider him as your dad.

[acid-ixx]

— masterlist !

this is so... do u know just how much i am willing to sell my soul for u ??? all the drawings perfectly encapsulate all the emotions right 😭 your tags are so true, trans reader ftw !! that would definitely up the angst and ruin their relationship w/ the batfam for the absolute worst ☠️ the amount of effort you have put into this is astounding, im literally just so baffled by every single detail like you making their siblings merely silhouettes with no face means so much because they don't feel or look like family. hell, even the teacher has a face which (for me) means they probably saw their teacher in an even better light and conner omg !! his appearance in the mv is so significant to the plot point, like it is with my one draft about dick with the titans because they're bound to notice them better than their own siblings.

p.s. i saw the poll results and it's official that conner is now a love interest hehe, specifically the 90's vers hehe

@acid-ixx here it is :))

(excluding first three drawings)

first drawing:

dick's excuse would always be "sorry, baby bird! but i promised to spar with damian today. ah, but you can watch from the sidelines!" or he would be too busy saving bludhaven to even acknowledge your presence.

second drawing:

you can't deny the bitterness and the clenching of your teeth whenever you stumble upon a room and see your father and your younger brother watching a movie together.

third drawing:

it was your teachers who would be the one having to walk you up the stage whenever you achieved an award. alfred would be too busy sometimes to attend your school ceremonies because he had to assist bruce with missions.

fourth drawing:

it's ironic, really, for a child to prep and plan for their own celebration just to hope that a single member of their family to even walk by the kitchen and join them in on their already lonesome celebration.

too bad everybody only goes to the kitchen when alfred cooks for them. who would want to taste sadness in a sloppily made birthday cake, right? nobody, not even you would have the appetite to eat your cake with the knowledge that it was you who had to put all the effort to bake it because you didn't want alfred to feel obligated to.

fifth drawing:

your family celebrates holidays together as a whole, but you never once attended after that one time where everybody had forgotten to get you a gift for christmas, save for alfred who gave you a bracelet (one that you cherished deeply).

sixth drawing:

the older sibling who he used to threaten with his sword, who he called vile names — a bastard child, he told you one day.

seventh drawing:

you weren't one of his friends, like kon who he would spend weekly video game challenges with; and you probably don't exist as his sibling in his own little world filled with coffee and computers.

eighth drawing:

casual talks are unavoidable, though, when at the dead of the night he would be caught sneaking in to eat some leftovers and you were conveniently awake at the same time as him. he'll recommend you some classic literature he read or 'cafes/restaurants that criminals visit the least' lists, but before it would turn into a full conversation, jason would already be wearing his signature mask again, and with a pat on your head and a "talk to you soon, can't guarantee it'll be tomorrow again though, only here for alfred's meals of course," and he'll be gone. you shouldn't have let your hopes high, you wished you didn't because, duh! he wasn't there to talk to you, specifically. you were just there to bide his time! wiping tears away from your eyes

[warriorfujoshi]

have to stop playing lkyt for today bc im pooped from all that hardcore visual novel gaming™ 😮‍💨 did all of takeru’s “good” ending and yael’s bad end tho!! and… (✧__✧) just know i want yael so bad it makes me look stupid. simply Trust that… he will be dealt with.

[jewishcissiekj]

Asajj and Dooku in The Clone Wars (Novelization) by Karen Traviss

[agendabymooner]

of long lines and names || cl16 fic

charles leclerc x ofc (hearth sister!ofc)

Summary: Aimee Yael and Charles Leclerc are too young to have five kids under six, but those boys became the life and memories that the couple wanted to keep forever. OR a series of scenarios during Aimee’s pregnancies that Charles remembered the most.

Content warning: Pregnancies with twins/five kids, dad!Charles and the grid uncles, based on Charles’ long name, a crying Charles, mentions of Anthoine Hubert, Niki Lauda, Jules Bianchi and the Leclerc dad (nothing too graphic nor personal, mostly based on their names only), loss/grief, Toto being a d-bag for a moment, possible use of explicit language, family-centric/dad!Charles-centric content, mentions of other Hearth sisters children (Lewis Hamilton and Max Verstappen)

Note: This will be a flop but I love these fictional Hearth-Leclerc kids. I love all of their kids! In fact, I have a series of spreadsheets dedicated to the Hearth sisters, and other characters and the names of their babies. Enjoy xx

masterlist

2024 — Hervé Louis Sebastien René Mathieu and Jules Lorenzo Blaise Pascal Timothé Leclerc

Aimee Yael Edmunson (Hearth) had never been stressed before. She had no reason to be. As a woman from a wealthy family — the granddaughter of Scottish billionaires and a daughter of an FIA executive — she had no reason to stress over the little things that were in the area of her control. Like her half-sisters, she had the money and intelligence to handle things well.

All except for the two little things in her womb that were continuously developing as the fourth month of her pregnancy went on. It was hard to hide it from everyone if you were to ask her. She had already spoken to her mother about carrying this amount of children in one go— Amara Louise Edmunson had only given birth to one child, and it was her. Nobody knew the struggle, but her mother had comforted her as much as she could. 

Aimee was calm despite the disaster that happened to be an unplanned pregnancy, her rational mind thinking that she shouldn’t be in some form of distress or discomfort to avoid any complications in her body. 

Her boyfriend, Charles Leclerc, thought otherwise.

When her body hit the ninth-week mark, there was already a tiny bump that someone might have seen as bloated. A natural one, no? But Charles was known to overthink things, and when he somehow got his prediction right, he had never cried so hard about having not only one— but two kids. He cried as if he was the one with the uncontrollable hormones. Aimee watched him cry empathetically, feeling grateful that she didn’t have this much anxiety that could risk her health and her babies. Still, she wondered if the tears he shredded were tears of joy or something else. 

Charles said he was happy, but at the same time, he thought of how their families would react— minus Pascale, Blanche and Amara.

When her body hit the seventeenth-week mark, they couldn’t hide it from their families any longer, hosting a dinner at their home in Monaco where Aimee did all of the cooking. Everything she made were cravings that became stronger as her first few weeks of pregnancy went on—rice, pasta and somehow a good selection of desserts and pastries that Charles ordered before the dinner. 

Welcoming each family member into the house wasn’t the most significant part of the dinner. The maternal figures of Charles and Aimee’s lives — Pascale, Amara and Blanche Ford — were on standby just in case someone decided to act differently towards the two. 

Stevie and Lewis Hamilton were clearly (too obviously) shocked at the protrusion in Aimee’s stomach but hadn’t made any comment on it for a while. They merely spoke about their daughter Lottie, who would cuddle with Roscoe whenever her little crawling body approached him. They were talking about their child, all while their eyes peered down on Aimee’s growing body. 

Sylvie and her fiancé Max Verstappen were surprised. Still, the model had managed to pass off her shock as excitement over the invitation to the couple’s new home before she tried to maneuver through the huge bump in the road— or rather, in Aimee’s body. Max tried asking Pascale and Amara about it by mouthing, “Is she actually?” only to receive a glare from them. Blanche scolded him quietly to keep it shut while she served him a drink. 

Charles dreaded inviting his brothers into his new home because they always picked their timing. When Arthur and Lorenzo Leclerc saw Aimee’s bulging figure, they immediately turned away and snorted aloud. Charles wasn’t this anxious about anything as exciting as this, but Arthur’s offhanded comment, “I’ll be attending your funeral when Toto finds out,” definitely had him recoiling. Pascale had to smack both her other children for scaring Charles off. Aimee nearly cried on the spot when Arthur made the joke, to which Charles returned to his composure and glared at his youngest brother for making her feel so shitty. 

The mentioned man and his wife were met at the front by the three maternal figures. Toto Wolff wasn’t typically this intimidated. He was usually level-headed, but how they stared at him while they welcomed the couple left him asking what was happening. Tilly seemed to sense some sort of protectiveness towards whatever it was, and when she had gotten a glimpse of it, her eyes sparkled at the sight of Charles’ hand over her little sister’s stomach. She wordlessly grinned before tugging her husband down on a seat right across the two. 

Toto couldn’t say a word if he were being truthful. The moment his eyes settled on the bulging stomach, his glare toward the Monegasque driver hardened. This was Toto’s nightmare, but it wasn’t as if he could just say that in front of the most overprotective women to have existed. So he threatened Charles wordlessly, passing words back and forth with other people while he glared at the Ferrari driver whenever he piped up. 

“So…” Toto started after finishing what seemed to be his second wine of the night. “Aimee, you’re pregnant. How long?” 

“Uh,” Aimee shifted uncomfortably, scared even to look Toto in the eyes. “Seven- seventeen weeks.”

“She’s seventeen weeks and four days—“ Charles was thrilled. He was. But the stare that Toto gave him immediately had his mouth shut as he looked back and only settled to hold his girlfriend’s hands underneath the table. “Four days,” he murmured to himself. 

“So explain how,” Lorenzo started but had given up halfway through, gesturing at Aimee’s stomach, “how has she grown this much if she’s only that much?”

“Yeah, about that,” Charles’ grin widened continuously as he announced, “We’re having twins.”

Aimee and Charles’ siblings were cheering for the couple as a series of hollering escaped their mouths. Pascale, Blanche and Amara were grinning from ear to ear while Toto… he was a man that was hard to please.

“Two?” Toto uttered, already pouring himself another glass of cabernet sauvignon. “And you two are… getting married?”

“What?” Arthur blurted out with an incredulous look, shooting in Toto’s direction. Sylvie and Stevie looked at each other, asking themselves, ‘what the fuck is he on?’ 

“Uh no,” Charles nervously laughed, but no one seemed to understand the memo when Toto glared at him as the Monegasque muttered, “but I suppose this is a wrong answer to say aloud.” 

“We’re not going to get hitched,” Aimee laughed in confusion, “why do we have to?”

“Because you’re pregnant?”

“Do we have to get married?” Aimee looked at Tilly for some help.

Tilly, sensing the discomfort from the pregnant woman, reached to pinch her husband in his side, eliciting a groan from him as she glared, “No, you don’t have to.” 

“Yeah, you don’t,” Sylvie glared at Toto. “Tils and Toto didn’t get married until Tia came along.” 

“So, you’re just going to be waiting for the fourth child to be out until you marry?” Arthur asked bluntly, leaving him to cower when Stevie, Lorenzo and Sylvie shot him a look of annoyance. “Oh mon dieu, je pose juste une question.” Oh my god, I’m just asking a question. 

Toto wasn’t sold at the thought of his youngest in-law being pregnant with another driver’s children. He’d seen Stevie get married off to his own driver, Lewis, and it still never sat right with him to witness them being married or having a family with some men. Charles could agree on the same thing, because if his hypothetical daughter was to be courted and even have a boyfriend he wasn’t sure how he would act either. 

He didn’t think that he would have the same problem with vice versa until he found out that Aimee was carrying two boys. He wondered how to prevent them from having girlfriends or boyfriends at an early age because he was certain that Aimee would just play mother of the groom on the pretend wedding that the boys would have at a young age. 

But his worries withered away when he held Hervé and Jules for the first time. He could still remember realizing how strong they were from the grip they had on his fingers. He could still remember the sight of Aimee crying after she introduced them to their father— not wanting to see Charles cry again due to the tribute that she had given to Charles’ family that passed years ago.

Perhaps it was a good idea that she did the crying this time; she deserved it after watching him have a breakdown over the little things that he didn’t need to worry about — and Charles needed to have the backbone for thinking himself as a shitty father for his unborn children. 

“What’re their names?” Esteban almost laughed after seeing Charles stare at Pierre mindlessly. It really wasn’t a good idea for Gasly to have Charles repeat the babies’ names all over again especially when the Monegasque was way too tired for his friends’ bullshit.

Mick kicked Pierre lightly with a hush, rocking the baby in his arms as he quietly asked, “Do you not listen or do you just live to piss your best friend off?”

Charles glared at Pierre, whose smile stood out as he giggled. Scoffing quietly, Charles gestured to the boy in his arm, “Jules Lorenzo Blaise Pascal Timothé.”

Then he nudged his head at Mick’s direction before he introduced the other twin, “and the boy in Mick’s hold is Hervé Louis Sebastien René Mathieu.”

“Sorry, I didn’t listen, Shal can you—“ 

“Oh my fucking god. Shut the fuck up, Pierre.”

“I’m kidding,” Pierre snorted as he quietly cackled. “What do you call them though?” 

2026 — Sacha Niki Pierre Philippe Leclerc

Torger Wolff promised that he wasn’t going to squash Charles Leclerc’s head until it popped once that Hervé and Jules Leclerc were born. 

He loved his nephews after all and spoiled them as much as their Uncle Toto could. He made sure the boys had their bunk beds prepared at the Wolff home in Monaco or England just in case they came for a sleepover with his son Adelmo and his niece Lottie Hamilton — who were just about the same age as the twins. He spoiled them equally. 

But god, was he ever ready to get rid of their Da the moment he received a text from the Monegasque with the words, “She’s pregnant.” 

“Morning, Sainz, is your stupid teammate in the office?” Toto didn’t even listen to the Spanish man’s answer as he continued to make his way to Fred Vasseur’s in-site office at the Scuderia Ferrari area. “Charles Leclerc! I’ve warned you once—“

The Ferrari team principal turned to look at the entryway of his office with a scowl, crossing his arms in annoyance. Toto wasn’t even in his team’s area and he was still acting like he shouldn’t have to knock at the damn door. The man that he was addressing, however, was teary eyed when he turned to look at Toto. 

“Is this your third or fourth?” Toto asked, still glaring at the Monegasque. 

“Third,” Charles wanted to smile but the last thing he wanted to do was die in this damn motorhome. In the hands of Toto Wolff, of all people.

“And no ring?” Toto then found him holding whatever in his hand, peering down as his mouth opened slightly. 

In Charles’ hand was a gold ring, ruby sitting on top of it as he clutched on it tightly. It wasn’t just a gold ring. From what Toto had learned, it was Aimee’s grandmother’s engagement ring. 

“I was— proposing to her—“ Charles sobbed quietly, a smile now resting on his face as he begged himself not to ugly cry in front of the Mercedes team principal. “Then she said Herb and J were going to be big brothers. I was on my knees, Toto! I promise! I want to propose first but she just spewed that— oh god, I have three children now.” It didn’t even dawn on him that he was about to have three under five until he cut himself off. 

Then he was just crying hysterically in the middle of the office with Carlos barging in frantically. “What the hell, Charles?! Are you okay?” 

Toto smiled proudly at the Monegasque driver, clapping him on the back before he shrugged at Carlos Sainz and Fred. “Don’t worry about him,” Toto replied quietly to the other men, “he’s having his third child, that's all.”

Carlos and Fred were confused and scared. They weren’t sure if it was because of Charles’ breakdown on the floor of the Ferrari team principal’s office or if it was because of Toto’s calm demeanour. But regardless, if Toto said not to worry, then so be it. 

Baby Boy Leclerc was written on his little hospital bassinet. But Toto got the first glimpse of his birth certificate. 

Sacha Niki Pierre Philippe Leclerc.

Toto had no reason to be upset. He wasn’t. He was just as equally as annoyed at himself when he realized how overprotective he was when it came to Aimee - who, as of this point, had already given birth to her third baby. He had no reason to be protective especially when she was doing a damn good job at protecting her two children. Now, he had the chance to witness her protect Sacha — the boy that they named after Niki Lauda, who happened to be close to the Hearth sisters before he passed. 

Like Tilly’s second pregnancy, Aimee and Charles welcomed their son to the world with wedding bands in their fingers. Pierre almost had a stroke watching Charles boast about his wife and their third son— but the final nail in the coffin had something to do with Sacha Leclerc having Pierre as a namesake. It wasn’t everyday Pierre got to pass out over such a small thing— but to be a namesake and named the godfather of the child? Yeah, Pierre Gasly would boast about him too. 

Arriving back home was easy. However, according to the Leclerc children’s grid uncles, writing down the boy’s name into the banner (which said, “Welcome Baby Sacha Niki Pierre Phi—(with a gap) lippe”) was quite complicated. They had done a good job with the twins’ welcome banner two years ago, but according to them their handwriting got too sloppy. 

Lando groaned quietly, “Don’t give them such a long name next time. Look at Max! His name is just Max.” 

Max Verstappen reached for a balloon on the floor before hitting Lando with it, “It’s a Leclerc thing to give them six names, of course they have to have the long name.”

“Oi, don’t make fun of my name,” Charles called out from the kitchen, pouring his two boys some glasses of apple juice the toddlers babbled in protest against their Uncle Max’s response. “Even H and J aren’t happy with what you said. You’re not being kind to your own nephews the more you make fun of me.” 

Pierre chuckled, sitting next to Aimee as she fed Sacha. The Frenchman said, “I’m so convinced that those two are Charles’ minis.” 

“They are becoming more like their Da as days go on,” Aimee pulled her tank top’s strap back on and began to burp Sacha. “I’m so outnumbered as of this point.”

“Baby PJ’s going to be like his Oncle Pierre, I can tell you that much,” Pierre smugly said, reaching out to caress Sacha’s cheek as he said, “I’ll be his big mentor and I’ll make sure his Da doesn’t have much influence on him.”

“His name is Sacha, Pierre,” Aimee rolled her eyes. Pierre, from the moment he was told of Sacha’s full name, had decided that the baby’s nickname was PJ — or Pierre Junior. He hadn’t even held the baby yet when he walked in the room but he had already staked his claim and declared Sacha as a Mini Pierre. “And you said the same thing to Herb and Jules when you met them, look how they turned out. They’re so much like Charles.”

“We all have our trials and errors,” Pierre mumbled, “and you know what they say— third times a charm. Maybe PJ will be the same.”

2029 — Anthoine Charles Elio Perceval and Alain Marc Léonard Arthur Leclerc

“You have quite some swimmers,” Pierre cackled hysterically, slapping Charles in the chest as he tried to get his shit together instead of laughing at the fact that his best friend has five children under seven. He really couldn’t when he had to remind himself that Aimee had given birth to another set of twins just a day ago. 

Charles began to curse at him in French, already exasperated after the long night that Aimee had. She had a labour that lasted longer than the previous pregnancies that she went through and it annoyed her more than it made things painful. Charles’ five year olds and his three year old son were fussing about not being around their mother for longer than two minutes and were already on the way to the hospital with their Mamé Pascale and Mamma Blanche, eager to meet their little brothers. 

Pierre, Max, Lewis, and Mick were all standing in front of the glass window of the hospital nursery with Charles, eyes all trained on the twin boys that slept peacefully alongside other infants. Charles never wondered, but he was always surprised that Aimee was this strong to even give birth to five of their children— fuck that, she had given birth to five of his boys. He couldn’t even find himself to swear to his best friend when he was too busy loving the shit out of his newborn sons. His boys. 

On the men’s left was Anthoine Charles Elio Perceval, whose personality was already showing by the way his resting face wrinkles to a scowl. Pierre couldn’t afford to cry over the tribute to their friend who passed years ago that all he did was laugh at his best friend’s experiences in fatherhood. He could just cry later on, the Frenchman told himself while he continued to pester Charles about his five sons. 

Next to Anthoine’s bassinet was Alain Marc Léonard Arthur, whose soft smile had the men outside the nursery melting as he cooed softly and shifted around. Charles and the others could tell that out of the two of them, Alain would be the one to stop the Ferrari driver from ripping his hair out.

Anthoine would most likely give Charles a run for his money and raise hell with Hervé and Jules. 

Alain would be the one to be as angelic as PJ — whose nickname stuck after Pierre continued to visit the boys every other week — and his mother Aimee, whose youthful glow remained despite entering her motherhood five years ago. Aimee wasn’t that outnumbered after all.

Max scoffed next to Pierre, “You wouldn’t be saying that if you hadn’t known anything about protection.”

“I’ve had practices,” Pierre winked at Max, making the Dutchman grimace. “Just no luck yet. It’s not as if I’m shaming Charles for it.”

“Five kids are better than none,” Lewis shrugged, still looking at the twins on the other side of the window. “How you’ve done it— fuckin’ beats me— but I sure as hell am jealous.”

“Never hurts to try for one more,” Charles chuckled. “You really think Lottie and Leland would be satisfied to have each other? It doesn’t really make a good playhouse squad.”

Lewis huffed, “They’ve already got your boys, Adelmo and Max’s Millie. I don’t think Steve would appreciate having to push out one more.”

“What about you, Max?” Mick joked before nudging the Dutchman with a smirk. “Opting for one more?” 

“I’ve got a girl,” Max deadpanned, “and I’ve another one on the way. I’m not the kind to be greedy but I think Millia and Lila would make good big sisters to a little brother, don’t you think?”

“Are you two settling for the little girl’s name then?” Pierre asked. “Lila?” 

“Poor Sylvie doesn’t even have a child named after her,” Mick laughed. 

“She named our daughter Emilia,” Max defended himself, “I didn’t ask her to name the girl Emilia. She just said it’s too damn pretty.”

“Besides, Max isn’t really known for giving things good names,” Lewis teased. “Last I checked he wanted to call Emilia ‘Jane’.” 

“Fuck off, Sylvie loves Jane Austen,” Max scoffed, shoving Lewis slightly when the British man laughed. “Besides, her name would have been Blue or something.”

“All jokes aside,” Lewis paused before clapping Charles on the back. “I’m pumped to see your bunch hanging out with their cousins. It’s been a while, hasn’t it?”

“Four months,” Max murmured. “It’s been four months for all of us.”

“I know,” Charles rolled his eyes. “H and Jules are looking forward to the Australian GP— they’ve been wanting to wreak havoc in the paddock since Abu Dhabi.”

“Those kids of yours need to lose that energy,” Pierre chuckled. “Have you ever taken them for a walk?” 

“I always take them out for a walk,” Charles muttered. They just have a bad habit of running away from their Da. All the freaking time.

Speaking of.

“Da!” 

“Look at those little devils go,” Pierre and the other men turned to the direction of the sound of running feet, hoisting little PJ up in his arms while the eldest Leclerc children ran towards their father, who had immediately lifted them up and pressed a kiss on their cheeks. 

“Where are they? Where are they?” Hervé and Jules tried to keep their voices down, as they were told by their Mamé before they entered the hospital— begging their dad to show them the newborn babies as he pointed through the window.

“Oncle P,” Sacha reached for his godfather’s scruffy face as he murmured, “où est Maman?” Where’s mom? 

“Elle dort comme un bébé,” She’s sleeping like a baby. Pierre whispered to the boy, now pointing to the babies as he continued, “Like your little brothers.”

“Mm? Mais il ne dort pas,” But he’s not sleeping. Sacha pointed at the baby to the right. “He’s no sleeping?”

“He looks like you, Da. Look,” Jules pointed and said in awe while grinned at his father. “And he does too!” 

“He’s like me and Jules!” Hervé exclaimed in amusement. “They look the same, Da!” 

“Yes they do,” Charles grinned, “because they’re like you two. Twins!” 

“How come I don’t have twin?” Sacha asked, slumping against his Oncle Pierre. Max and Lewis turned to the boy and offered him a soft smile. 

Mick then reached out, “It’s better that you don’t,” he joked, “you’re one of a kind, little PJ.” 

“But he won’t have any driving partner for Ferrari?” Hervé protested in annoyance. Charles laughed at this. His sons were born to be Ferrari drivers, said once by Sebastian Vettel. They were born to a Ferrari driving father and a mother who worked for McLaren. Even the amount of papaya outfit never stopped the Leclerc children from aspiring to become the Prancing Horse’s next generation of drivers. 

All but one. Sacha turned to look at his eldest brothers and said, “Me and L’land are driving for Mercedes!” 

“No! You’re driving for ‘Rari, ‘member, PJ?” 

“Mummy said I can drive for anyone,” Sacha pulled himself away from Pierre’s chest for a second to cross his arms, pouting at his eldest brothers. “I wan’ drive for ‘Cedes!” 

Lewis looked at Charles with approval all over his face, obviously cocky at the statement made by the three year old.

“You don’t want to drive for Alpine like your Oncle P?” Pierre asked, goading his godson into joining his team.

“Hm, maybe! But I wanna be like Uncle Lew and Da!” 

“Mon chou, you are like Da,” Charles grinned widely. “You and your brothers are mini Charles.” 

Seeing his sons now — the two that he held in his arms, the toddler that Pierre had on his own pair and the other two that were just born yesterday — had him thinking about the importance of their names and their existence. Charles didn’t seem to think of himself as someone so sentimental, but his life with Aimee seemed to change his viewpoint. He valued his family more than he did before. 

He didn’t care much about carrying the family name as long as he could remember where his sons’ names came from. 

If his eldest asked, he was more than willing to tell them a story about how Hervé and Jules got their names from their late grandpa and uncle. If PJ asked, then Charles and Aimee would sit him down to tell the boy about Aimee’s Uncle Niki and great grandfather Philip Hearth. And someday when his youngest grew curious, he’d tell them all about Charles’ good friend Anthoine and a French driving legend named Alain Prost. 

He’d sit them all down to let them know about the people that he and Aimee loved and how they loved to keep their memories alive through the boys. 

But for now, Charles Leclerc was quite content with nurturing his boys with his wife. He was only looking forward to caring for Aimee Leclerc and their children. Then maybe someday, the Leclerc bunch would grow to care for their mother too.

[acid-ixx]

it's the way that the traveler brags about how compared to others who have to constantly beg to even catch a glimpse of your attention— the traveler doesn't even need to ask because you're literally inside them, mind and soul interconnected with theirs; and it's beyond any connection anyone could ever have with you. they could talk to you all they want but can they be with you at every fleeting moment? no, the traveler shares the same memories with you, and does everything with you. they're not just connected with you by some silly red string of fate! you literally use their body as a vessel of your own, that in itself is the deepest form of devotion they would never share with anyone but you and everyone can seethe with jealousy all they want but they can never deny that by the end of the day, it's you who shares a body with them, nobody will ever have that same level of pleasure they could ever feel.

very random idea but some flavour of sagau where you end up in the game but sharing the traveler's body rather than having your own. the truth eventually comes out and now everyone and their dog is desperately trying to spend time with the traveler in the hopes of catching your attention, while the traveler is like =_= because suddenly it's like they don't exist anymore. every time someone approaches them it's always them trying to ask about you (how are you? what types of things (and people) do you like? do you want anything? are they to your liking?). you feel bad so you try to take a back seat and only come out when you're alone with the traveler and paimon, but this just makes everyone else even more desperate and determined to catch even a glimpse of you. alternatively the traveler could revel in this twofold—the others claim to be devoted to you, but it's always been them who you experience the world through. and there's something very, very special about their very existence being so intrinsically tied with yours that they hardly exist outside of being used by you now. and hopefully forever.

[yaelibex]

sometims ibispaint on phone just makes me feel lazy in loading the ads for extra and cooler brushes 乁⁠(⁠ ⁠.⁠ ⁠ര⁠ ⁠ʖ̯⁠ ⁠ര⁠ ⁠.⁠ ⁠)⁠ㄏ ive been using the default ones