#Seven years now - I don't know what to do with seven years it feels like a hard to define number haha

[belovedbright]

She found the shrine when she was seven… partially collapsed stone in what had once been a field.

Thea ran her hands gently over the collapsed stones.

“If I rebuilt it, it might be large enough to hide in,” she thought. “Maybe I would be safe from…” but her mind snapped closed before that line of thought could go any further.

Thea began shifting stones, grunting as she cleared the fallen. She worked for hours until, the capstone fell, heavier than she could manage, scattering half a wall, and leaning heavily on another. Thea flopped heavily to the ground, blinking back tears. It was growing late, her hands were scraped, and hunger was making her crabby and easily frustrated.

“I can’t do it,” she said, her voice whining even to her own ears, which left her feeling angry & spiteful.

She pulled a honey cake from her pouch, and broke it in half. She was a clever though lonely child, and knew intent matter as much as anything else. As she ate her half, she considered the stone pile. The capstone lay forming a lean-to with one wall.

She rose and prodded it gently. It seemed solidly wedged, the wall stable. There was a little space beneath it. She knelt & swept away dead leaves. “This is all I have,” she said quietly. “I’m sorry it’s only half. I was really hungry.”

She rose up, wiping dirty hands on her dirty skirts. The shadows were growing longer, too long for a young girl to still be in the woods. “I need to go now. I hope you’re still here.”

Then she ran, fleeing through the woods towards civilization. Behind her two voices sighed. *

At age ten, she was finally strong enough to rebuild the tiny temple using pilfered rope, and tree limbs for levers & ramps. She’d been coming for years at that point, always with the offerings of the kinds of treasures children find. Honeycakes; ripe, stolen grapes; the remains of a bird’s egg, bright blue and smaller than her thumb. Once she smuggled a small chipped cup with a mouthful of beer still inside. (They'll never notice it's gone, she'd said as she slid it into the crevasse of the shrine. She'd been wrong, but wasn't sorry all the same.) Even though no god spoke to her, she talked enough for both of them. Moreover, she felt a contentment and warmth in the shrine's little grove that she felt nowhere else.

"Even if you don't speak, I know you're there," she said as she worked at repairing the shrine. She packed the lower walls between posts and packed earth to help hold them in place. Whenever she found herself wishing she had someone to help, to be an extra pair of hands, she found the wind changed, or the materials finally cooperated. She dug, heaved, lashed, and lifted, until finally the shrine was a real structure once more.

Once again, much like that first day, she was tired and hungry. But today she was undefeated. "We did it," she whispered, as she put the cup back with her offering of ripe raspberries.

"You did it," the god said with a voice like honey and feathers, gentle and sweet. Thea's eyes widened as she fell backwards, sprawling.

"You're here," she said finally, feeling her youth suddenly a disadvantage. "What can a child say to a god?" she thought. She scrambled around, kneeling in the dirt before the shrine.

The god chuckled softly, like the sound of wind through a wheat field. "You have knelt plenty today as you worked child, you do not need to do so again. You know that we are small gods here. Forgotten gods. I have little power to help you."

Another god spoke with a voice like crisp apples, like deep earth, like the first hint of frost, "We have lain here for centuries, with only each other's company. You should go, child, find a greater god to guide you."

Thea said nothing at first, for the shadows were long, and the night coming on too soon. "I see that I have two gods, and perhaps two small gods are better than any mighty one." And then she was off in a flash, racing the sun home once more.

"She didn't even ask our names," the God of Arepo grumbled.

"Hush," Arepo, the god of everlasting friendship replied.

She came back again the next day, of course, with a handkerchief of berries and one tiny copper coin. *

Thea came as often as she could as a child, with her wild offerings and gentle devotion. Once when she was eleven, she brought a candle stub, though she had no way to light it. She sat, leaning lightly against the shrine that day, her cheek covered in a rapidly darkening bruise. "I wish I had a way to light it for you," she said brightly. "I wish I could bring you some of the incense from the bigger shrines, but then I couldn't light that either. Maybe perfume? Do gods like perfume? Or maybe flowers? Flowers smell nice…"

The gods listened to her chatter for some time, answering her questions with amused fondness. Then Arepo said, "Do you need to talk about what happened?"

Her smile vanished as she reached a hand towards her face and pulled her knees to her chest. "Could you do anything if I did?"

"No," the God of Arepo said sadly.

"No then," Thea said quietly. "This is enough." And the three of them sat a while longer on that cool, Autumn day, enjoying the light through the changing leaves, the crispness in the air, the humble, fragile beauties in the world. *

When she was thirteen, she fled to the shrine by night for the first time, under a high gibbous moon. She curled up against the shrine, sobbing and bruised, years of stories pouring out of her. Her gods listened and fretted until the small candle stub lit inside the shrine. Just enough for a little light and warmth in the darkness -- a fragile beauty certainly -- but unexpected. They talked as she slept.

"I thought you could do nothing, old friend," said Arepo to his god.

"So did I," said the god of Arepo, who was beginning to become something more. *

Thea was fourteen when her father died. She did not weep. She stole three cups of beer from the funeral, and fled to the woods. She drank one, leaving the others for her gods. "We didn't do anything," they protested. "We could do nothing."

"Of course you did," Thea said, not realizing she was weeping. "You were here. When I needed a friend, I found you both. You were here." And the god of everlasting friendship felt something changing in himself as well. *

The seasons and years came and went. Thea's mother remarried a kinder, better man. Thea herself married a good man, if not a passionate one. They had six children who lived, a kindness so rarely afforded to anyone. And though Thea did not take them to the shrine, she taught them of her gods in her own way. To pay attention to the fleeting, humble beauty of the world. To be a friend to the friendless. To be kind, even when a situation feels beyond hope. And every year, she returned to her shrine to sweep away the leaves. To bring her candles and berries and even incense. To talk with her oldest, truest friends. *

The last time Thea came to the shrine, her hands were aching, her gait slow, her heart thrumming unsteady in her chest. She struggled to sit down, placing her offering just at the mouth of the shrine, for she could bend no further. "I have another granddaughter," she said softly, her voice coarsened with age. Her gods gathered close to her, warming her with their presence.

"You're dying, Thea," the god of humble, fleeting beauty said, his voice like the the fall of cut wheat. It pained him to realize that, she too was one of those fleeting, beautiful things.

"I know," said the priestess of Arepo and his God. "I am so sorry. I should have done more for you. It was selfish to keep you to myself." And the gods wept together.

"If…" said the god of Arepo. "If we could do some great thing for you, Thea. If we could, what would you want it to be?"

She smiled quietly, her breathing coming shorter. "I think… the world would be a kinder place… if everyone treasured the small, humble, beauty in the world. If everyone felt the surety of unconditional love and friendship. I would want that, for everyone."

"Yes," said Arepo quietly.

"Yes," said the god of humble beauty.

As Thea's soul left her body with her breath, the gods felt something new pass through them, a change in the earth and heavens, powerful as lightning, but gentle as waking. They each kissed her forehead, then looked at each other anew.

"We are still small gods," said the God of Opening Your Heart to Small Beauty.

"Perhaps two small gods can be better than one mighty one. Or perhaps we will need to work harder " said the God of Unconditional Love. Arepo extended his hand, "One soul at a time?"

And the gods walked, hand-in-hand, out into the world.

CODA [I thought I was done, then took a shower & found the rest.]

Years later, the gods found themselves in a prisoner of war camp. The men lay, head to foot, shivering and dying in the mud, open air above them, and walls around. "What use are small beauties here, in this place? We are still too small, too weak to do anything," cried the God of Opening Your Heart to Small Beauty. And Arepo wept, for he too felt powerless in the face of such cruelty. Even love and friendship could only do so much. They heard, before they saw it, one voice, then another, as the soldiers began to sing. As they looked around, they saw someone crossing the camp, the soldiers voices growing behind her. Until Thea stood, holding a single candle, radiant beyond measure.

"I am the goddess of a candle against infinite darkness, of the whispered voice against despair, of the thinnest slivers of hope." The three small gods embraced, as the voices around them grew steadier, clearer, and brighter.

While other god's shrines are magnificent, yours is a bit too humbling. And yet a little girl visits you every year after stumbling upon it, never missing a year even as she grows old. Deeply moved, you decide to give her a parting gift greater than what any other God would dare to give.

[kingkat12]

neurons (roman godfrey x reader)

WARNINGS: 18+, mentions of sex, foul language, author knows nothing about neurons lol

summary: Roman Godfrey is most certainly not the best study partner to have the night before an important test. what a shocker (not).

word count: 1,106

a/n: kingkat is BACK!! exams are fucking killing me, so when that is over, you best believe I will be back to my usual uploading schedule!! however, I scrapped this together for y'all (and also for myself because pls I need a Roman to get me through this study period). also, WARNING, I don't know anything about chemistry and neurons, I just had to think about anything other than my test rn which is in 6 hours... ENJOY<33 (also the gif is from @godfreysteel if I remember correctly, pls kick my ass if I'm wrong ouf)

"A neuron is an excitable cell that fires electric signals called action potentials across a neural network in the nervous system. They are located in the brain and..." Roman peeked up from the chemistry book with a rather offended look streaking across his face; "You're not listening to me, are you?"

Realizing I was being spoken to, I raised my head from the bed, flaunting a nervous smile. Honestly, I had nearly dozed off. "I am, I am! I swear, I was just!--"

"Listening with your eyes closed?"

Fuck. With a groan, I buried my face in the duvet I was lying on. "Look, Ro, I really appreciate your help, but I'm not going to learn this the night before the test... We should just give up,"

I knew that Roman Godfrey wasn't known for being the best at school-- however, he was the only person in my contacts who was available at midnight, and I was having the biggest case of brain fog known to man. Nothing was sticking. Seven hours and forty-six minutes until I was supposed to be seated in the auditorium at school, taking the dreaded midterm exam in chemistry, this was my only option. This test was supposed to be notoriously hard, so of course I hadn't bothered looking at it before now. Of course. 

Huffing, Roman spun around in my chair, looking both bored and frustrated. "I'm so glad I took this test last year," he muttered, just like every other senior did when this test had been mentioned over the past few weeks. "I'm aware that I can't help you with much, 'cause you didn't exactly call the designated nerd or something. But now that you've dragged my ass all across town to not sleep with me, you could at least listen?" He moved the chair closer to the bed, leaning over to poke my head. "Think of it like you're listening to an audio book, okay? My voice is nice, after all. Deep and warm, like--"

"Honey?" I chimed in, raising myself to look at him. 

Roman blinked. He looked at me like I was the biggest idiot in the world before he plainly answered; "No. Pussy," 

That was it. Having my fuck-friend teach me chemistry certainly didn't make me the brightest girl in the state. This was a bad idea; I groaned, rolling my eyes as I shifted on the bed, sitting up. "Keep going, then," I said, doing my best not to yawn. "A neuron is an... excited cell?"

Smirking, Roman shook his head-- I wondered whether this made him feel smart. He had taken this test last year and passed it, after all. It wasn't looking like I would be passing it, so did that make Roman Godfrey smarter than me...?

That was a mortifying thought.

"The neuron is an excitable cell, whatever the fuck that means," Roman pointed to the paragraph in the book. "Let me continue, maybe it'll make sense to you if I keep going?" He kicked back in the chair again, leaning his legs on my bed before he lowered his voice, getting into a rather caricatured character of a narrator; "They are located in the brain and spinal cord and help to receive and conduct impulses. Neurons communicate with other cells via synapses, which are specialized connections that commonly use minute amounts of chemical--"

I yawned. Loudly. I couldn't take it anymore.

Roman's eyes shot up from the book, wider than ever. I held my breath, ready to be told off once more for not focusing properly, yet the next words that left his lips were ones of charming amusement; "I see that this isn't making you very... excitable," 

I let out a relieved sigh. "I give up. Could we just fuck instead? That thought makes me excitable,"

Slamming the book shut, Roman grinned. "You never disappoint," he murmured. Getting up from the chair, he motioned for me to lay down again; he didn't waste any time making his way between my legs, pressing soft kisses to my thighs. His words were interrupted with every kiss; "If you don't pass the test-- I'll pay someone to-- tweak your scores. Don't-- worry about it."

My breath hitched as I smiled up at the ceiling. "Why didn't you say that-- fuck, earlier?" I squirmed beneath Roman as he pushed the soft pillows of his lips to my clothed sex, humming. Every kiss, every touch, felt electrocuting; I wondered whether the neurons in my body had anything to do with these bodily reactions. Did they? I had no idea, and I realized I wasn't going to know at the end of the night either. 

"Because," Roman said, a hint of a laugh in his voice as he kissed his way up my body, listening to my nervous giggles of pleasure. "I like feeling-- helpful. No one has ever-- asked me to--" His kisses were getting wetter, more eager; "--revise anything-- with them."

My hands went to his hair, tugging at the tips of his soft, brown locks. "Makes sense," Of course. Who in their right mind would call Roman Godfrey to help them practice for a test? I knew that the only thing on his mind was pussy and... pussy. Along with all the other things about the female body that made him excitable, certainly. 

Roman pressed teasing kisses to my neck, wrapping his arms around my tired body. "Are you gonna call me the next time you have a test?" he purred.

"Um... Depends,"

"On what?"

"On whether I'm planning on taking it seriously," I gave Roman's hair another tug, hoping he'd kiss me properly soon. "If it's a life or death thing, you're probably not gonna get involved. However, if it's another chemistry test..." 

Hovering above me now, Roman nudged my nose with his as he smiled against my lips. "I see where you're going with this, I'll take it. But let me redeem myself, okay?"

"Uh... how?" An impossible task.

"I'll teach you the one thing I actually remember," he breathed. Judging by how quickly his smile turned into a smirk, I could almost foresee the next thing coming from his mouth; "The neurons are connected to the nervous system, so they're responsible for making you feel this." 

Roman's lips pressed against mine for the briefest moment-- it was so gentle, so tentative, that for a second, I thought I had simply imagined it. This wasn't usually how he kissed me. This was different. This was gentle, sincere. My breath felt stuck in my chest as my fist in his hair faltered, feeling as though my body was on fire. 

Fucking neurons, giving me hope that I could both pass the test and have Roman Godfrey for myself. 

(thank u to Wikipedia LMAOOO I would go on and refer to the article like I've been taught but I'm SALTY so no<3 mwah)

[sassy-radio-hazbin-queen]

Ok I am going to talk about something that's been on my mind recently.

Major warning ⚠️ might get deep.

Also ADHD RAMBLING SORRY IN ADVANCE 😔

Regarding Alastor and the Seven year absence. Ok so I see how In some recent posts people say Alastor must feel forgotten by the Hasbin crew, cause When Sir Pentious and Dazzle died they got a portrait and a statue. While Alastor got nothing. And Charlie thought he had died too.

But while that is true I'm surprised no one talks about how Alastor already felt Forgotten long before the fight. I'm talking about when he finally got home after 7 years disappearance.

My boy didn't get a Welcome home,( although he did get one from Carmilla later on)or a " Hey are you ok". Nothing. What does he get. Pushed around, Judged ( though it's quite understandable it's still wrong) and even told that he basically didn't matter. Remember the scene between Carmilla and Alastor. Alastor was basically asking her " Hey while I was gone, Did you at least think about me"?. And Carmilla response was definitely " Eh Not Really, But welcome back in any case".

Sure he looked pissed but if I was in his place I'd feel very hurt. I kinda noticed how everyone treats Alastor as if he is the worst thing in hell. When there so much worse * cough Valentino cough*

From what I understand he only targeted those that hurt others. Maybe Hell was pissed because in a way he was saving other souls. Taking them from their abusive owners. Which is fucked up but it's hell. What do you expect?

I firmly believe Alastor grew up in a abusive household and definitely witnessed his mother getting abused which definitely affected his psyche. Maybe his father killed his mother and after killing his father he vowed no one will ever go through what he went through.

So he targeted awful people and offed them. When he got to hell. I think he felt his work wasn't done yet and now he is in the land of abusers and monsters. Maybe deep down. He was the one SCARED 😨.

Maybe he killed so he could feel safe in a twisted way. He ended up selling his soul cause he was scared. His owner who i headcanon is like Mother Gothel definitely didn't help. She manipulated him into thinking she is keeping him safe. When In reality she was using him for his powers.

I also headcanon that ( now this is going to sound crazy) His owner forces him to dress and act the way he does. She wants to be the only one who can play with her toy. His owner definitely doesn't share. So she will try to make him look in her eyes unappealing. We all know this doesn't work though. As Vox had fallen in love with him.

Now I don't believe Vox ever hurt Alastor and as much as I love stories where he gets 😳 obsessed. I actually would be happy if they become best friends again and hope it was just a giant misunderstanding just like Fizz and Blitz.

Still something happened That hurt Alastor deeply that he now hates anything to do with television. My Headcanon is cause Vox started to spend more time with Valentino and accidentally leaving Alastor in the dark. Alastor enjoyed spending time with Vox. Going dancing at a club, listening to radio shows. Even cuddling in a blanket watching a movie. But I think the main reason he enjoyed Vox's company is cause, His owner couldn't touch him. She couldn't hurt him in any way.

Kinda like how a person wants there friend over so there abuser doesn't hurt them. The abuser won't cause they rather do their evil deed in secret.

In other words Alastor felt safe around Vox and when he started spending time with Valentino and less with him. His owner would hurt him.

But no one knew this cause Alastor always had a smile on his face. Always seemed sure and confident of himself. This is a perfect representation of " You don't know what happens behind closed doors". I think this was a learned habit from childhood too. Maybe after his father abused him or/and his mother he would threaten to kill them if they told or even showed any signs of abuse.

His owner definitely has that power. If she has the power to give him power then she has the power to erase Alastor from existence. I think she threatened his afterlife multiple times.

Anyway eventually Vox and Alastor have a big fight which pissed the owner off. And she took him away for seven years. Personally I am among those that think she TORTURED him during that time.

I think she let him out and told him to watch the princess and make sure no one gets redeemed. She sews a smile on his face so everyone thinks he is happy and fine. Again reference to what I said earlier.

Alastor goes back home and everything has changed. Probably a culture shock to him. He goes to the hotel and had to pretend everything is ok. Maybe he was all touchy feely with everyone cause he wants to feel safe and secure. Like he is finally home and not hallucinating. When he is pushed away he acts like it doesn't matter but I think it does. I think it hurts him deeply but because of the abuse he endured in childhood and his afterlife he puts up a front as a defense mechanism.

As Alastor told Charlie

" Just because you see a Smile, don't think you know what's going on underneath. A smile is a valuable tool my dear. It inspires your friends, Keeps your enemies Guessing and says no matter what comes your way, Your the one in control".

In a roundabout way he was basically calling for help without saying he needs help. Remember he can't tell her or anyone about what he went through. Of course In a way it means he is still a prisoner. His owner can take him away at any time and this definitely scares him. So he will do anything he can to prevent this from happening. Even making a deal with the princess of hell.

Anyway So while after the battle I think he felt Forgotten, I think he already felt that way. Like he doesn't matter and he wants to matter. His owner and father probably told him that he is worth nothing and no one will miss him while he is gone.

Well he was gone twice and NO ONE missed him.

That's very sad when you think about it and I'm surprised no one had brought it up yet.

Once again I apologize for my rambling thank you for reading

[putschki1969]

Kalafina Anniversary Live 2025 Pamphlet HQ Scans Part 2

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3

Google Drive Link

👉  For PERSONAL USE ONLY 👉  CREDIT me and LINK to my blog if you use/share 👉  SUPPORT Kalafina | BUY the pamphlet

Interview with Wakana

--This will be Kalafina's first live performance in about seven years. How did you feel when you found out that the concert was going to be held?

"On January 23rd, 2018, we held our 10th Anniversary LIVE at Nippon Budokan, and on March 30th we appeared on stage on the opening day of our 'Kalafina 10th Anniversary Film', which ended up being our last public appearance as a trio. Seven years have passed since then so I'm really happy that we can perform live again as Kalafina. Many people worked hard to make this happen, and when the three of us found out about this opportunity, I thought to myself, 'if we're allowed to perform live again, I definitely want to do it!' Turns out the three of us all felt the same way about this."

--How did you feel when the three of you first got together to sing during a live rehearsal?

"The first rehearsal was meant to be a sort of 'voice tuning' where we just sang through the entire setlist. It had been six years since I last sang with the two of them, so I was strangely nervous at first *laughs*. But as soon as we started singing, all my memories came back and I was able to adjust my singing technique right away, knowing exactly what to do and where to change certain parts. The accumulation of our 10 years as Kalafina has remained with me, and I was surprised at how easily we were able to just pick up where we left off, we quickly made up for the time we had spent apart. There was no need to worry about anything."

--What did the three of you talk about at that time?

"I think that singing helped us connect with each other more than talking. I was in a choir when I was in elementary school, and I started singing gospel in high school, so I've always loved singing with other people. By singing and giving each other tips, we were able to communicate with each other, and thanks to the other two I was able to release my vocal power. It was a lot of fun 'fine-tuning our voices'."

--Please tell us your thoughts on Hikaru and Keiko's vocals.

"It's something I've always felt, but each of us has a completely different vocal quality, but when the three of us sing together, something comes together, and a mysterious harmony is born. When I sang together with Hikaru and Keiko for the first time in a long while, I felt a special feeling that resonated in my heart, like 'ah, yes, this is it. This is something that only Kalafina can do, and no one else can'."

--Kalafina's music has a unique worldview, right?

"Yes, wonderful songs were written for us with a deep understanding of each of our voices, bringing out the best in us, both in melody and harmony. Also, we pushed ourselves to the very limits of our skills at that time, and whenever we sing these songs it makes me feel a sort of loving whip on my back, saying, 'you can go a little further, right?' *laughs*"

--I think the range of your expression definitely expanded throughout the years of your activities.

"With each song we received, my desire to sing more dramatically grew. When Kalafina was first formed, we were often told, 'you don't need to assert yourself or have a unique personality. Just be conscious of singing in a straightforward voice.' There is certainly an appeal to songs that are born from doing so, and I have always tried my best to focus on singing in a way that expresses the world of Kalafina's music in the best possible way, but now I think I am able to incorporate my personal expressions into that without infringing on the unique worldview."

--Kalafina was originally created to sing the theme songs for the anime "Kara no Kyokai," so it's only natural that they would place importance on the worldview of the work.

"That's right. We were aiming for a rather 'inorganic' feel to match the work. But by moving away from 'Kara no Kyoukai' and singing a variety of songs, our concept has changed since the early days. We've become able to incorporate more of our own sensibilities and experiences into our songs, and now that we've each spent years doing solo activities, our range of expression has expanded even more. I really feel that none of our experiences have been in vain, all the time we've spent up until now has benefitted us."

--What are your thoughts about all the fans who have continued to love Kalafina for such a long time?

"First of all, I would like to express my gratitude to everyone who has waited for us until now. What we can do is take in everyone's feelings, draw from them to shape our singing and give back our own feelings of gratitude and joy in the form of music. So for this live performance, I want to sing in a way that will fill the void of seven years in one night. I think it will be a more powerful performance than ever before, so I look forward to seeing you all at the venue."

--Today you had a photo shoot for the pamphlet. Please tell us your impressions of the shoot.

"It was a really fun shoot. During rehearsals we are focused on singing and there isn't much time to chat, but the best thing about a photo shoot like this is that we can be relaxed the whole time. The staff created a wonderful atmosphere, and the three of us being in the same space, chatting for the first time in a long time made me feel like the seven-year hiatus did not even exist. Hearing again how Hikaru and Keiko felt during those seven years and seeing all the photos of the three of us together really made me feel like, 'ah, Kalafina is back’.”

[milla-frenchy]

Get to know your moots

Thanks for the tag @yxtkiwiyxt @itwasntimethatdidit40 @ace-turned-confused @thundermartini @joelmillerisapunk 🙏❤️

what's the origin of your blog title?: Milla Jovovich in the 5th element, and also I wanted people to know why my grammar is awful 😶

favorite fandoms: ppcu

OTP(s) + shipname: Hannibal Lecter and Clarice Starling

favorite color: black 

favorite game: tlou (both games)

song stuck in your head: spite - Omar Apollo. I’m obsessed with it

weirdest habit/trait?: I have a ton, but none of them are weird (to me 😁)

hobbies: video games, tv shows, writing fics, listening to music

if you work, what's your profession? I check whether construction projects comply with the law

if you could have any job you wish what would it be? if I could I wouldn’t work tbh. But I think I’d be happier if I worked in a bookstore or a flower shop

something you're good at: listening, I think. And if I’m invested in something I need it to be perfect, so if someone asks me to do something, it should be nicely done

something you're bad at: I don't always know where my boundaries are until I realize I crossed them, and it's too late. I'm done with the thing or the people that asked too much of me and I disappear (and I didn't even see it coming)

something you love: calm. Being at home, quiet

something you could talk about for hours off the cuff: honestly when I’m comfortable with the person, I can talk about everything

something you hate: a lot of things, I can be super grumpy 🙃 Yesterday I was at the movies. Some people were talking too loudly, others were eating during a silent scene and I just wanted to throw them out. In general I don't like noisy people and I hate rudeness. I’m not comfortable with intrusive people or when people come too close to me physically

something you collect: tickets (plane, activities done while traveling, movies, concerts…) I live in nostalgia, and keeping them is a need for me

something you forget: I have a very weird memory. I can remember some details from 15 years ago, and forget something you told me 2 min ago. I still don’t know how this damn memory works

what's your love language?: acts of service, listening, being there when they need me

favorite movie/show: the silence of the lambs, seven, narcos, friends, luther, the last of us, 6 feet under

favorite food: we have some really good meals with cheese and potatoes in France (raclette, gratin dauphinois, tartiflette…) and I love them. And pasta never disappoints (I love italian food)

favorite animal: I’m a cat person, but I’m fascinated by orcas

what were you like as a child? I was quiet and shy, already anxious af and didn’t want people to know it

favorite subject at school? english, geography, history

least favorite subject? maths and sciences. I feel dumb af when it comes to that

what's your best character trait? I’m a good listener, I think. When I love, I love hard. If my friends are attacked I feel like my heart is ripped in two

what's your worst character trait? I overthink everything. And when I don’t, I don’t give a fuck. Which is very disturbing, even for me 🤯

if you could change any detail of your day right now what would it be? I’d stop working and lie on my couch. But today’s a good day, I work from home, so it’s ok

if you could travel in time who would you like to meet? Honestly if I could travel in time I’d just want to see my mom again

recommend one of your favorite fanfics (spread the love!): raider!joel @toxicanonymity is my roman empire. I said it a million times, and I’ll say it again 😍🖤

I’m working on a list of my all time favorite fics that I will share soon, I hope. I have old lists here

npt: @aurorawritestoescape @iamasaddie @toxicanonymity @604to647 @schnarfer

@sawymredfox @iknowisoundcrazy @baronessvonglitter @bonezone44 @magpiepills

@pascalssbabyy @tateypots and whoever wants to 🙏

[anitalianfrie]

er salto de a quaja nun funziona - snippet

Diggianini, teen parents au, ~600 words

When Diggia goes to get Francesca, there's something weird going on. 

The exchange happens in the parking lot near her school. Him and Enea exchange a few words - they see each other enough as it is, and they wouldn't have much to say in general, but all the Francesca matter in particular gets dealt with in an acrimonious silence, that sticks on the skin. 

Diggia could get Francesca straight from school, but there's something about delegations and names and, moral of the story, he can't. He writes a mental note, destined to disappear from his mind in less than an hour, to talk to Enea about it. 

Francesca’s hand is small in his own, while they walk to the car and then later, home. Small fingers of a child, delicate, and Diggia remember that cold afternoon of January when he cradled her in his arms for the first time, a small small bundle of blankets and tiny limbs that he could barely distinguish from the tears misting up his eyes, Enea exhausted on the bed. 

His child. 

Francesca is uncharacteristically silent the whole way. Diggia doesn't see his daughter enough, and he knows it, but he also knows that Francesca in never silent, and that she talks, and talks, and talks, screams and yells and giggles and calls him a thousand times with her small voice, “papi, papi, papi”. Papi look. Today Francesca looks at the ground instead, and doesn't say a word. 

She gets her shoes off and leaves them in the entryway and he gets her jacket and takes it off, an automatic and practiced gesture. Francesca doesn't move an inch. 

“Amore de papà, what's going on?”

Francesca shakes her head.

“Nothing.”

“It's not nothing, I can see it”

Francesca remains silent for a second, shifting her weight from one foot to the other. 

“Papà?” she asks, and her voice is as small as a cheep. 

“What is it lupè?”

“Are you my real dad? Because Anna has two dad but she says it in school and she makes two gifts [*] and I make only one and I can't say that you're my dad I can just talk about babbo and grandma always talks about mum. But do I have a mum? And so you're not my dad?"

[* in Italy in elementary school kids make little gifts for their parents for mother's and father's day. Francesca is referring to them]

Diggia can feel the ground disappearing from under his feet at his daughter's words, a hard knot that stops in his throat like a nutshell, a bite gone the wrong way. 

Because how do you explain to your seven years old daughter that when you were seventeen you fucked up and that you were scared to death and that you didn't know what to do, and what homophobia is. 

Diggia gets her in his arms, his daughter, his own blood, and he doesn't know what to say. He wishes he could tighten the grip and never let her go. 

“Between me and babbo it's complicated, because everyone knows us right? You know they always stop babbo on the streets. So we don't say it, but you're one hundred percent my daughter.”

“Alright?"

Francesca nods again, but doesn't look him in the eyes, and Diggia knows he hasn't convinced her. But she hugs him tight, and hides her head in the crook of his neck like she did when she was all tiny and small and didn't weight anything and Diggia had to always carry her in her arms to not forget her around. 

“Come on. Now some TV?”

“I should do my homework…” says Francesca, voice still thin. 

“What homework and homework, who tells you these things your dad? Who never studied anything? No, we do homeworks tomorrow. Today, TV”

Francesca hides in his neck again and giggles, and hearing her high-pitched child laugh Diggia thinks that, in the end, he did do something right with her. 

[vargaslovinghours]

And never let you go ♥

Bonus without the overspill lighting:

[eddis-not-eeddis]

.

[anaalnathrakhs]

Heute ich habe gegessen eine Schokolade der Morgen, Mittagessen war mcdonald’s medium Pommes da mein Lehrer ist gegangen dort und ich und meine Mitschülerin geteilt, und das Abendessen war eingefroren Pommes und vegetarier Nuggets, da ich versuche mein Fleisch Verbrauch reduzieren. Ich zudem habe zwei Brot Stücken gegessen und ein Ice Tea getrinken.

[loverboybrightsideghost]

there's a commercial on the local radio station for like at&t or something but it's in collaboration with the wicked movie, so it's a dad basically being like "my whole family is obsessed with wicked, our wifi can barely handle it!" idk it's just. i'm not entirely sure what it is i feel but i just remember how i was obsessed with so many musicals (including wicked) when i was in middle school and it was considered REALLY uncool. like i was a little weirdo for it, and i was always singing and always people were like "ugh shut up already." one time i tried to show my friend "for good" when i graduated eighth grade and her boyfriend (my former friend turned fucking bully asshole) told me "no, don't corrupt her with that!" by showing it to her. which is its own thing but. i don't know it feels weird to hear on the radio someone proudly say their family is obsessed with a musical, even if it is a fake family. it's like ha. in my time i got fucking bullied for that. there is also something strange i feel regarding that specifically as it is an advertisement, which means 1) the point is to advertise the movie (and the wifi) and 2) it's socially acceptable to some level to be obsessed with something that is being hyped up like some big cultural moment.

[esyra]

After the hospital bombing, I finally heard back from my grandmother and confirmed that several of my relatives were murdered by Israeli bombing. Seven of them, to be precise. Three are still going, including her. We've been talking constantly ever since.

Asked if it was possible to head south, and was told they did but were also bombed there. So they decided to go back home, in Zeitoun. Their home was bombed and they were pulled out of the rumble, then driven by ambulances to the al-Ahli Arab Hospital. There were people in every corner. Gazans sheltering, sleeping on the floor. Gazans dying on the floor, waiting for beds.

Four were declared dead on arrival, three were in need of surgery and other three were just bandaged. Then, a bomb was dropped in the parking lot that made parts of the ceiling collapse, like Dr. Ghassan Abu Sittah reported in that horrific conference/interview. Those in need of surgery died.

By the way, just in case you didn't know: the Church of Saint Porphyrius, the third oldest in history, bombed by Israel a few days back, was located near the hospital.

When looking for new shelter, they saw schools with signs hanging outside, "We can't take any more families." They met families, sympathetic but already sheltering too many people. They're now staying in an apartment building they found empty. Sleeping in the corner of the living room. If the family comes back, they'll apologize and leave.

Told me she was saving her phone battery for when the bombing stopped, and she had to ask for help to rebuilt the neighborhood. But she doesn't think it's gonna stop anymore. The ones still with her are mute most of the time, like they're saving energy, but she feels lonely and wanted to talk. There's no internet and to connect to WhatsApp, people are buying "a card from the supermarket, there's a password and username." Not sure what she meant. Still, the internet is inconsistent and won't load neither videos or images nor pages, so she doesn't know what's happening on the outside world.

Told her there were a lot of people protesting to stop the genocide, she replied, "The bombings are getting worse by the day." The bombing yesterday was the worst she ever witnessed. The entire neighborhood is infested with the smell of death, of decomposing bodies. Bodies are piling up in the streets and she's not sure if it's because they ran out of places to store them, but most of them are in bags. The smoke of the bombings hide the blue sky—she hasn't seen the clouds for a while.

Asked if I could share their pictures, names and dreams with people and was told, of which I partly agree, "they're not entertainment." If anyone genuinely cared, they would be alive—I'd argue there are people who do care, but I'm not gonna lecture her pain. And they don't deserve to be used to fulfill someone's sick fantasy. Told me to remember what some Israelis do with pictures of dead Palestinians. And I do.

For those of you who are not familiar, many times before settlers got together to celebrate the murder of Palestinians. For one, in 2015, Israeli settlers set a house in Duma, West Bank on fire. An 18-month old baby, Ali Dawbsheh, was burnt alive. Both parents later died of wounds and only a 5-year-old, Ahmad, survived, although severely injured.

Two celebrations of their murder are widely known, one at a wedding and others outside the court in which two were indicted for the terrorist attack. In the wedding, guests stabbed a photo of the toddler, Ali, while others waved guns, knives and Molotov cocktails. Israel's Minister of National Security, Itamar Ben-Gvir, was present.

That's what happens in an apartheid. Palestinians are so abused by authorities that their "innocent civilians" come to accept the brutality as necessary or are desensitized by our suffering. After all, it's been 75 years—get used to it!

So I won't risk the image of my loved ones, in fear they are used in these kinds of depravity. I will say, though, the world lost a young footballer. Lost a female writer and an aspiring ballerina. Lost a kind father, who was also a great cook, and a loving mother that enjoyed sewing and other types of handicraft art. Lost a math teacher and a child that wanted to become one.

People think Israel is testing new weapons on them. There's civilians arriving at the hospital with severe burns, which they thought was from white phosphorus, but apparently the pattern is different from the one caused by white phosphorus. It's widely believed Israel tests weapons in Palestinians.

Jeff Halper, author of War Against the People, a book on Israel's arms and surveillance technology industries, said: "Israel has kept the occupation because it's a laboratory for weapons."

They've ran out of drinkable water and the "aid" Biden sent was only for the South of Gaza and no fuel, for hospitals, was allowed in. Many shelves in the supermarket are empty. She said many are convinced that if they don't die from the bombing, they'll die from starvation or dehydration, or whatever disease will develop from the dirty water they're drinking.

Told me all people do now is pray, cry and die. Told me she hopes West Bank is spared. Told her Israel bombed a mosque in West Bank and dozens of Palestinians in West Bank are being murdered by settlers, so she bided me goodbye.

[batmanisagatewaydrug]

So I’m a minor (16 to be specific) and I frequently watch and read stuff with explicit sexual or 18+ content in it. I live in an extremely conservative Christian household and things like explicit fanfic are pretty much the only option I have for learning about sex that isn’t abstinence only. I do feel bad about it, especially when I see adults online say stuff like “oh i watched lots of inappropriate things as a teen that i really shouldn’t have” and it makes me feel like I’m ruining myself in a way that I won’t realize until I’m an adult? Right now I don’t see what the big deal is but i get the feeling that when i’m 24 or something I’ll wake up one day and be ashamed of this for some reason i’m not mature enough to know yet. Should I just stop and wait until I’m 18 to continue or what?

hi anon,

okay. I'm gonna hit you with something:

turning 18 does not actually change the way you feel about porn or sex or anything. the difference between being seventeen and 364 days and being 18 is nonexistent. there's not a magical switch that changes you as a person; that comes from lived experience. if you're 18 and your experience is still that porn and smut and what have you i something that you should feel bad about, it's still going to feel that way and a birthday won't change that.

look, the whole notion of "I saw [x] that I shouldn't have when I was young" is like. okay. so you saw something that was a little mature for you that you didn't quite get? awesome. did you die? no. most people's hangups about sexuality don't come from seeing a rogue titty when they were a teenager, they come from the culture that person was raised in that made seeing a rogue titty feel like something to be ashamed of instead of a completely natural part of life.

story time! when I teach my 4th-6th grade OWL classes (Our Whole Lives, great human development program) I always start by holding a meeting with the kids' parents. I've been doing this for seven years, and every time without fail some of the parents will recall seeing porn for the first time as a kid. these guys were kids when printed porn magazines were still a thing, so they were discovering them in all kinds of places - the bedrooms of their parents or their friends' parents, at bus stops, in the woods, once even stowed in some farm equipment. and they remember it feeling illicit and exciting, sure, and possibly making them confused or even horny for the first time in their young lives, but like... that's it. none of these people are irreparably damaged by seeing porn. in fact, they've grown up to be the kind of people who go out of their way to make sure their young kids are enrolled in a queer-friendly, body-positive, diversity-embracing sex ed class to counter stereotypes and misinformation they might receive elsewhere.

looking at things that arouse you is morally neutral. it can be a great way to help you learn about what turns you on, and even if it's not the best source of factual, realistic depictions of sex, it can still help you discover things - hell, I only figured out what the clitoris was by reading Young Justice fanfic (shout out Snaibsel).

you can't ruin yourself, at any age, with the media you like to consume. what makes you uncomfortable and anxious is the attitude you've been taught to have about that media, which is something that has to be actively unlearned, because it's certainly not going to just disappear on its own when you become a legal adult.

tl;dr obviously no one is making you watch porn and you shouldn't if it makes you uncomfortable, but if you drop it right now and come back when you're 18 don't expect to feel any different if you haven't done any more unpacking re: the conservative Christianity of it all.

[harrysfolklore]

christ-max -mv1

summary: you invite your boyfriend max to spend christmas with you for the first time, however, your family doesn't quite believe you're dating a formula 1 world champion. wc: 5.8k

folkie radio: HAPPY CHRISTMAS TO ALL OF YOUUUU! i hope you're having the best day ever with your loves ones. this fic ended up being longer than i intended but i hope you like it!

MASTERLIST | MY PATREON

You're nestled into Max's side on his couch, wrapped in the soft throw blanket he keeps specifically for these quiet moments together. The afternoon light filters through the floor-to-ceiling windows of his Monaco apartment, casting a glow across the room. Your feet are tucked under you, and you can smell the lingering scent of the coffee you both made earlier.

The Netflix show you'd put on - some random documentary about deep-sea creatures - has become mere background noise. Max's fingers are threading through your hair in that gentle way that always makes you melt, occasionally stopping to massage your scalp. .

"I can't believe the season's actually over," you murmur, tracing lazy patterns on his arm. "Feels weird not having to plan around race weekends anymore."

Max chuckles, the sound rumbling through his chest where your head rests. "Yeah, but now we have to plan around all the end-of-year events instead. Did you see how many galas and ceremonies are coming up?"

"At least those don't involve you flying halfway across the world," you tease, tilting your head to look up at him. His hair is slightly messy, free from its usual styling, and you resist the urge to reach up and run your fingers through it.

"True," he agrees, then glances at his phone on the coffee table. "Speaking of events, I can't believe it's already December. Christmas is going to be here before we know it. Guess time flies when you're busy winning championships."

Your heart skips a beat. This is the opening you've been waiting for. You've been thinking about this for weeks, planning how to bring it up. "Actually… I wanted to ask you something about Christmas," you start, sitting up slightly to face him better.

Max's blue eyes meet yours, curious. "What's on your mind?"

"Well…" you bite your lip, suddenly feeling nervous despite knowing there's no reason to be. "I was wondering if you'd want to spend Christmas with me and my family this year? I know we've kept things private, but I really want them to meet you, and-"

"Wait, really?" Max interrupts, his whole face lighting up with that boyish excitement that made you fall for him in the first place. "You want me to meet your family?"

You can't help but smile at his enthusiasm. "Of course I do. We've been together almost a year now, and they keep asking why I'm always smiling at my phone." You playfully poke his side. "Which is your fault, by the way."

He catches your hand, intertwining your fingers. "My fault? I'm just being my naturally charming self," he grins, then his expression turns slightly more serious. "But are you sure? I mean, won't they be surprised when you show up with, well…"

"With a four-time World Champion?" you finish for him, laughing. "Actually, my dad might pass out. He's been watching F1 since before I was born. He has no idea I've been dating his favorite driver."

Max's eyebrows shoot up. "I'm his favorite driver?"

"Don't let it go to your head," you warn playfully. "But yeah, he's got your merchandise and everything. It's actually kind of embarrassing how much he talks about you during race weekends."

Max throws his head back laughing, and you can't help but join in. "Oh God, this is going to be interesting," he says, wiping at his eyes. "What about the rest of your family?"

"Well, Mom will probably try to feed you until you burst - she's like that with everyone. And my little sister Ruby, she's seven and she's going to have so many questions. She's in that phase where she wants to know everything about everything."

"I can handle questions," Max says confidently, then hesitates. "What kind of questions are we talking about?"

You pretend to think about it. "Oh, you know, probably things like 'How fast have you ever driven?' 'Have you ever crashed?' 'Do you want to marry my sister?'"

Max nearly chokes on air at the last one, his cheeks turning slightly pink. "You're joking, right?"

"About Ruby? Nope, she has absolutely no filter," you laugh, then soften your voice. "But seriously, they're going to love you. Just be yourself - the you I know, not the racing driver everyone else sees."

He pulls you closer, pressing a kiss to your temple. "I'd love to spend Christmas with your family. I can't wait to meet them." He pauses, a mischievous glint in his eye. "Should I wear my race suit when I meet your dad?"

You swat his arm, laughing. "Don't you dare! He'll actually faint." You settle back against his chest, feeling warm and content. "Thank you for saying yes. It means a lot to me."

"Thank you for asking me," he murmurs into your hair. "I love you."

"I love you too," you respond, smiling as his arms tighten around you. The documentary continues playing, forgotten again as you both start planning for Christmas, trading ideas and jokes about how to break the news to your family.

You're sitting cross-legged on Max's bed while he's in the shower, your phone propped up against a pillow as you FaceTime your family. Your mom's face fills most of the screen, with your dad peering over her shoulder and little Ruby bouncing around trying to get a better view.

"Honey, we can barely see you. The lighting is terrible," your mom critiques, and you adjust your position slightly.

"Better?"

"Much better! Now, what's this important thing you wanted to tell us about Christmas?" Your mom asks, while Ruby shouts "Is it presents?" in the background.

You take a deep breath, trying to contain your smile. "Well, I wanted to let you know that I'm bringing someone with me this year… my boyfriend."

There's an immediate explosion of excitement. Ruby starts jumping up and down, your mom gasps dramatically, and your dad's eyebrows shoot up with interest.

"Finally!" your mom exclaims. "We've been wondering when you'd introduce him. You've been so secretive about this boyfriend of yours."

"What's his name?" Ruby pipes up, her face suddenly taking up half the screen as she pushes closer to the camera. "Is he nice? Does he like Disney movies?"

You laugh, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. "Yes, Rubes, he's very nice. And his name is…" you pause, knowing what's coming. "Max. Max Verstappen."

There's a moment of silence before your dad bursts out laughing. "Good one, sweetheart. Now, what's his real name?"

"I'm serious, Dad. I'm dating Max Verstappen."

Your mom is trying to hold back her laughter now too. "Honey, isn't that the racing driver you and your father are always watching? The one your dad has all those caps and shirts of?"

"Yes, and I'm actually dating him," you insist, feeling your cheeks heat up.

Ruby's face scrunches up in confusion. "The fast car man? From TV?"

"The very same one, Rubes."

Your dad wipes tears from his eyes. "Come on now, what's next? Are you going to tell us you're best friends with Lewis Hamilton too?"

"Dad!" you groan, running a hand over your face. "I'm being serious! We've been dating for almost a year. I'm literally at his place right now!"

"In Monaco?" your dad asks skeptically. "Prove it."

You swing your phone around to show the familiar view of Monaco through the windows, but your dad just shakes his head. "Could be any apartment in Monaco."

"You're impossible!" you huff. "Fine, don't believe me. You'll see at Christmas."

Ruby presses her face closer to the screen again. "Will he bring his race car?"

"No, Rubes, he can't bring the race car," you say, softening your tone for your little sister. "But I promise you'll love him."

After a few more minutes of your family teasing you about your "imaginary Formula 1 driver boyfriend," you end the call with a mix of frustration and amusement. Just as you flop back onto the bed, you hear the bathroom door open and Max walks out, his hair still damp from the shower.

"How'd it go?" he asks, noticing your expression.

You let out a laugh. "They think I'm making you up. They literally don't believe I'm dating you."

Max raises his eyebrows, looking amused as he sits next to you on the bed. "Really?"

"Really. Dad laughed so hard he nearly cried. And Ruby, my little sister, just wants to know if you're bringing your race car for Christmas."

"Sorry to disappoint Ruby," he grins, then looks thoughtful. "You know, maybe we should've waited to tell them in person. The looks on their faces would've been priceless."

"Oh, don't worry," you sit up, wrapping your arms around his neck. "They'll still be priceless. Dad's going to lose it when he realizes all those times he was rambling about you during races, he was actually talking about his daughter's boyfriend."

Max laughs, pulling you closer. "What else should I know before meeting them?"

"Well, Ruby's seven and obsessed with Frozen. She'll definitely make you watch it and probably sing along too."

"I can handle that," he says confidently.

"And recite all the lines?"

"…Maybe not that."

"And act out the scenes with her?"

Max's eyes widen slightly. "What have I gotten myself into?"

You kiss his cheek. "Too late to back out now, Verstappen. You're stuck with us."

"Wouldn't have it any other way," he murmurs, pulling you in for a proper kiss. "Even if it means playing Olaf the snowman."

"Oh no, you'll definitely be playing Elsa. Ruby's very particular about casting."

The look of horror on his face makes you burst out laughing, and soon he's joining in too. As your laughter dies down, you can't help but think about how perfect this feels - being here with him, planning to spend Christmas with your family, even if they don't believe you yet. You can't wait to see their faces when you show up at their door with Max Verstappen himself.

"Hey," Max says softly, breaking into your thoughts. "What are you smiling about?"

"Just thinking about how Christmas is going to be interesting this year."

"Interesting is one way to put it," he grins. "Should I wear my race suit when we arrive?"

"Don't you dare! Dad will actually faint."

"That's kind of the point," he winks, and you grab a pillow to hit him with, both of you dissolving into laughter again.

"Let me guess, another text from 'Max Verstappen'?" your dad teases from his spot at the kitchen counter, making air quotes with his fingers. He's wearing one of his many Red Bull Racing shirts, completely oblivious to the irony.

"Actually, yes," you reply, rolling your eyes. "He'll be here soon."

Your mom chuckles while peeling potatoes. "Honey, you can just tell us who your boyfriend really is. We won't judge, even if he's not a Formula 1 champion."

"Mom, I've told you a million times-"

"LOOK!" Ruby crashes into the kitchen, pointing at the TV in the living room where they're showing highlights from the last race. "It's YN's boyfriend!" She dissolves into giggles, clearly in on what she thinks is a funny joke.

"Very funny, Rubes," you mutter, but check your phone again when it buzzes.

Max: "Just turned onto your street. Nice neighborhood 😉"

Your heart starts beating faster. "He's here," you announce, heading toward the front door.

"Oh, we're still doing this?" your dad calls after you, amused. "Should I get my Max Verstappen cap for him to sign?"

"Actually, Dad, yes, you should," you shout back, slipping on your boots.

"Sweetie," your mom starts in that gentle voice she uses when she thinks you're being ridiculous, "you don't have to-"

The sound of a car pulling up interrupts her. You open the front door and step out onto the porch, watching as Max's car comes to a stop in your driveway. Your family has crowded behind you in the doorway, probably expecting to catch you in your "lie."

Max steps out of the car, looking unfairly handsome in his dark winter coat and scarf. His face lights up when he sees you, and you don't hesitate to run down the steps toward him.

"Hi," he grins, catching you in a tight hug and lifting you slightly off your feet. "Missed you."

You hear a loud gasp behind you, followed by what sounds like your dad choking on air.

"Missed you too," you murmur against his chest before turning to face your family, keeping one arm wrapped around his waist.

The scene on your front porch is priceless. Your dad's mouth is hanging open, his face pale except for two bright red spots on his cheeks. Your mom has both hands pressed to her face in shock. Ruby is the only one moving, bouncing up and down with excitement.

"IT REALLY IS THE FAST CAR MAN!" she shrieks, breaking the silence as she barrels down the steps toward you both.

Max laughs, crouching down to her level. "Hi Ruby. Nice to finally meet you. Your sister has told me a lot about you."

"You're real!" she exclaims, poking his arm as if to make sure.

"Very real," he confirms, looking thoroughly amused.

"I… you… but…" your dad stammers, still frozen in the doorway.

"Hi, Mr. and Mrs. LN," Max says, standing back up and guiding you and Ruby toward the porch. "Thank you for having me for Christmas."

Your mom seems to snap out of her shock first. "Oh my goodness, please come in! It's freezing out here. I… oh dear… the potatoes… I should… more food… I need to…"

"Mom, breathe," you laugh, as Max follows you inside.

Your dad hasn't moved an inch, still staring at Max like he's seeing a ghost. "You're… you're actually… the Brazil overtake…"

"Dad, no F1 talk yet!" you warn. "Let him at least get his coat off first."

"Right! Yes! Coat!" your dad says frantically. "I'll take your coat! And then maybe… could you… would you mind signing my…"

"Collection?" you finish for him, smirking. "The one you thought I was making up?"

Max raises his eyebrows at you, remembering your conversation about your dad's merchandise collection.

Ruby tugs on Max's hand. "Do you want to see my Frozen dolls? And can we watch the movie? Sissy said you've never seen it!"

"Ruby, let him settle in first," your mom calls from the kitchen, where she appears to be panic-cooking. "Oh God, is the food good enough? Do Formula 1 drivers have special diets? Should I-"

"Mom, the food will be perfect," you assure her, then turn to Max. "See? I told you they'd be cool about it."

Max tries to suppress his laugh as your dad continues to stare at him in awe, your mom stress-cooks enough food to feed an army, and Ruby continues pulling on his hand.

"Very cool," he agrees, pressing a kiss to your temple. "Though I think your dad might need to sit down."

"I'm fine!" your dad squeaks, then immediately sits down heavily on the nearest chair. "Just… just give me a minute to process that my daughter is actually dating Max Verstappen and I've been accidentally talking about my future son-in-law during every race and-"

"DAD!" you exclaim, feeling your face heat up while Max chuckles beside you.

"What? I'm just saying… all those times I said 'that Verstappen boy would make someone a good husband someday' and it turns out-"

"Okay!" you interrupt loudly. "Who wants coffee? Max, come help me with coffee!"

As you drag a laughing Max toward the kitchen, you hear Ruby start explaining the entire plot of Frozen to him, your mom muttering about needing to buy more food, and your dad still talking to himself about racing statistics.

"Still think this was a good idea?" you whisper to Max.

He pulls you closer, grinning. "The best. Though you might want to tell your dad to breathe before he passes out."

"Can we build a snowman after coffee?" Ruby calls out.

"Only if Max gets to be Elsa!" you shout back, earning you a playful glare from your boyfriend.

Looking around at your slightly chaotic but loving family, and seeing how naturally Max fits into it all, you can't help but smile. This is definitely going to be a Christmas to remember.

The initial chaos has settled into a cozy scene in your living room. You're curled up on the couch next to Max, who has Ruby practically attached to his side. She hasn't stopped talking since everyone sat down, and Max, to his credit, is giving her his complete attention.

"And then Elsa makes this huge ice castle," Ruby explains, using elaborate hand gestures. "Can you drive as fast as Elsa runs up the mountain?"

"Probably faster," Max answers with a grin, making Ruby's eyes widen.

"Even in the snow?"

"Even in the snow."

Your dad, who's finally regained his ability to form complete sentences, sits in his armchair trying very hard not to bombard Max with racing questions. He keeps opening his mouth, then closing it again when you give him a warning look.

"It's okay, Dad," you laugh. "You can ask him one race question. Just one."

Your dad looks like he might cry from happiness. "The overtake in Brazil-"

"Which one?" Max asks with a playful smirk, and your dad launches into an enthusiastic discussion about racing lines and grip levels.

Your mom returns from the kitchen with a tray of hot chocolate and cookies, having finally accepted that she doesn't need to cook enough food for an entire F1 paddock. "Here we go. I hope it's okay, Max. YN mentioned you like hot chocolate."

"It's perfect, thank you," Max says warmly, accepting a mug.

Ruby immediately reaches for a cookie, then pauses. "Do race car drivers eat cookies?"

"Only the fast ones," Max whispers conspiratorially, making her giggle.

"Ruby, give Max some space to breathe," your mom says gently, noticing how your sister is practically in his lap.

"It's fine," Max assures her. "I have nephews. I'm used to it."

Ruby beams at this information. "Really? Do they like Frozen too?"

"I don't know, but I'm sure they'd love to hear your explanation of it," he says, and Ruby launches into another detailed plot summary.

You catch your mom watching the interaction with soft eyes, all her earlier panic forgotten. She meets your gaze and mouths 'He's wonderful' when Ruby isn't looking.

Your dad has moved on from Brazil to discussing tire strategies, but stops himself mid-sentence. "Sorry, I'm probably boring you. You live this stuff."

"Not at all," Max says sincerely. "It's nice talking about it with someone who understands racing. YN usually just tells me to stop being a nerd when I talk about tire compounds."

"Because you spent two hours explaining the difference between C3 and C4 compounds!" you defend yourself.

"It's fascinating stuff," your dad says eagerly, and Max nods in agreement.

"Oh no, there's two of them now," you mutter to your mom, who laughs.

Ruby tugs on Max's sleeve. "Can we watch Frozen now? Please? You promised!"

"Ruby, let Max rest a bit," your mom starts, but Max shakes his head.

"A promise is a promise," he says solemnly to Ruby. "Should we watch it now?"

Ruby squeals with delight, jumping up to get the remote. Your dad looks slightly disappointed that his racing talk is being cut short, but you can see him hiding a smile at Ruby's excitement.

"Fair warning," you whisper to Max as Ruby sets up the movie, "she knows every word. And she will sing along."

"As long as she doesn't expect me to sing," he whispers back.

"MAX!" Ruby calls, patting the spot next to her on the floor where she's arranged pillows. "You have to sit here! It's the best spot!"

Max obliges, settling down next to her while you stay on the couch, exchanging amused looks with your parents as Ruby starts the movie, already mouthing along to the opening music.

Your mom leans over to you. "I'm sorry we didn't believe you," she whispers. "He's lovely. And so good with Ruby."

"I told you," you whisper back, watching as Ruby explains to Max why Elsa has ice powers.

Your dad joins in the whispered conversation. "Think he'd sign my mug collection later?"

"Dad!"

"What? I'm just saying, Christmas cards would be sorted for the next few years…"

You're about to respond when Ruby shushes you all loudly. "This is the best part!"

Max catches your eye and winks, clearly enjoying himself despite being roped into a Disney movie viewing with a very enthusiastic seven-year-old commentator. Your heart swells watching him with your family, how naturally he fits in, how gentle he is with Ruby.

"Do you want to build a snowman?" Ruby starts singing along with the movie.

"Later, Rubes," you promise. "Let's watch the movie first."

She nods seriously, then turns to Max. "Pay attention to this part. It's very important."

"I won't miss a second," he promises, and Ruby beams at him before turning back to the screen.

Your mom reaches over and squeezes your hand, giving you a knowing look. Even your dad has stopped thinking about racing long enough to appreciate the moment – his youngest daughter sharing her favorite movie with your boyfriend, who happens to be the F1 driver he's been fan-boying over for years.

It's perfect, you think, watching your family and Max together. Different from how you imagined telling them, but perfect nonetheless.

"Shh!" Ruby whispers loudly. "Elsa is about to sing Let It Go!"

Max shoots you a slightly panicked look as Ruby starts to stand up, clearly ready to perform the whole number. You just grin and shrug. After all, you did warn him about the singing.

Later that evening, you finally manage to steal a moment alone with Max. Ruby had fallen asleep during the third replay of Frozen, and your parents took her up to bed before retreating to the kitchen to finish some Christmas preparations.

You find Max on the back porch, leaning against the railing and looking up at the stars. The winter air is crisp, and you can see his breath forming little clouds in the darkness. Quietly, you step out and wrap your arms around him from behind, pressing your cheek against his back.

"Hey," he says softly, turning in your arms to face you. His hands find their way to your waist, pulling you closer. "Needed a little break from being Elsa?"

You laugh quietly, reaching up to brush a strand of hair from his forehead. "You were amazing with Ruby today. I think you're officially her new favorite person."

"She's a sweet kid," he smiles, then adds with a playful glint in his eyes, "Though I didn't expect to watch Frozen two times in one day."

"Just wait until tomorrow. She'll probably want to act it out."

He groans dramatically, but you can see the fondness in his expression. "The things I do for you."

"Mmm, and I appreciate every one of them," you murmur, standing on your tiptoes to kiss him softly.

Max responds immediately, one hand moving to cup your face while the other pulls you even closer. The kiss is gentle and unhurried, full of unspoken emotions. When you finally pull back, he rests his forehead against yours.

"Thank you," you whisper.

"For what?"

"For being so perfect with my family. For watching Frozen multiple times. For not running away when my dad started his racing commentary."

He chuckles, the sound rumbling in his chest. "I like your family. Your dad's racing knowledge is impressive, your mom's trying very hard not to mother me to death, and Ruby…" he pauses, smiling. "Ruby reminds me of Victoria at that age."

You snuggle closer, seeking his warmth in the cold air. "I was so nervous about telling them, and then even more nervous when they didn't believe me. But this… this is better than I imagined."

"Even with your dad asking me to sign his entire Red Bull merchandise collection?"

"Hey, at least he waited until after dinner," you laugh. "Though I'm pretty sure he's in there right now planning which items to bring out first."

Max wraps his arms more securely around you, pressing a kiss to your temple. "I love you," he says quietly, and your heart skips a beat like it does every time he says those words.

"I love you too," you reply, tilting your face up for another kiss.

This one is deeper, more passionate, until you hear the back door creak and quickly step apart.

"Oh!" your mom exclaims, looking flustered. "Sorry, I just… wanted to ask about breakfast preferences… but it can wait… carry on!"

She disappears back inside, and you both burst into quiet laughter.

"We should probably go back in," you sigh, though you make no move to leave his embrace.

"Probably," he agrees, but instead of letting go, he pulls you back for one more kiss. "Five more minutes?"

You smile against his lips. "Five more minutes."

In the quiet of Christmas eve, wrapped in each other's arms, you can't help but think how perfectly he fits into your life, into your family, into your heart. Tomorrow there'll be more Frozen, more racing talk, more of Ruby's endless questions, but right now, it's just the two of you, and it's everything.

The winter sun is just beginning to peek through the curtains of your childhood bedroom, casting a soft golden glow across the room. You're wrapped in warmth, nestled against Max's chest with his arm draped around your waist. His steady breathing tells you he's awake before he even moves.

"Good morning," he murmurs against your neck, his voice still rough with sleep. His lips brush against your skin, sending shivers down your spine.

"Morning," you whisper back, feeling his hand slowly slide beneath your sleep shirt, his fingers tracing patterns on your skin.

"Sleep well?" he asks innocently, but his actions are anything but innocent as he presses closer, leaving a trail of kisses from your shoulder to your ear.

"Max," you breathe, caught between wanting to lean into his touch and knowing you should stop. "We can't… my parents…"

"Then we'll have to be very, very quiet," he whispers, nipping at your earlobe. His hand travels higher under your shirt, making your breath hitch.

You turn in his arms, ready to either give in or properly protest - though the way he's looking at you, eyes dark with desire and that signature smirk playing on his lips, makes you lean heavily toward the former.

"You're trouble," you murmur, reaching up to run your fingers through his disheveled hair.

He leans down to capture your lips in a heated kiss. "You love it."

Just as his hand starts to wander again, a voice pierces through the quiet morning:

"IT'S CHRISTMAAAAS!" Ruby's excited scream echoes through the entire house, followed by the thundering of small feet running down the hallway. "WAKE UP! WAKE UP! SANTA CAME!"

Max drops his forehead to your shoulder with a frustrated groan. "Your sister has impeccable timing."

"Welcome to Christmas with Ruby," you laugh, pressing a consoling kiss to his cheek. "I tried to warn you."

"YN! MAX!" Ruby's fists pound on your door. "GET UP! There are presents EVERYWHERE! And it SNOWED!"

"Five more minutes, Rubes!" you call back.

"NO MINUTES! NOW!" she insists, continuing to knock. "Mom said breakfast is ready and Dad made hot chocolate and I SAW A HUGE PRESENT WITH MY NAME ON IT!"

Max chuckles against your shoulder. "I suppose we should…"

"PLEASE!" Ruby calls again. "I promise I'll let you drink your coffee first!"

"That's quite the offer from her," you tell Max. "She usually doesn't allow any delays on Christmas morning."

"We're coming, Ruby!" Max calls out, sitting up and running a hand through his hair. "Give us two minutes to get dressed."

"TWO MINUTES! I'm counting!"

You can hear her dramatically counting down in the hallway, making Max laugh. "She's serious about this, isn't she?"

"Oh, you have no idea."

The living room is a festival of color and chaos when you finally make it downstairs. Ruby's bouncing by the tree in her Christmas pajamas, while your parents are settled on the couch with steaming mugs of coffee.

"Finally!" Ruby exclaims. "I counted way past two minutes!"

"Sorry, princess," Max says, accepting a coffee mug from your mom. "But I'm here now."

"Max, sweetheart, you really didn't have to get us anything," your mom says, noticing the pile of presents he'd arranged under the tree last night.

"Of course I did," he replies warmly. "It's Christmas."

Ruby's practically vibrating with excitement as your dad starts distributing gifts. "Can I open mine from Max first? Please?"

At your nod, she tears into the elaborate wrapping paper, gasping when she reveals a beautiful wooden chest with golden details. "It's like a treasure chest!"

"Open it," Max encourages, smiling.

Ruby lifts the lid carefully, her eyes widening. Inside is a complete collection of princess dresses, each one a perfect replica from different Disney movies, along with matching accessories and a tiara for each one.

"The chest is magical," Max explains, kneeling beside her. "Every time you open it, there might be a new surprise inside. And look at this…" He reaches in and pulls out a small envelope.

Ruby opens it to find a letter with the Disney castle letterhead. "Dear Princess Ruby," she reads aloud, her voice getting more excited with each word. "You are cordially invited to spend a royal weekend at Disney World, where you will have a private breakfast with all the Disney princesses…"

She doesn't even finish reading before launching herself at Max, nearly knocking him over. "Thank you thank you thank you! Can I try on the Elsa dress right now?"

"After presents," your mom laughs. "Let's see what else Santa brought."

Your dad opens his gift next, finding an envelope that makes him pause. "Son," he says, voice thick with emotion as he reads the contents. "This is…"

"VIP passes to the British Grand Prix," Max confirms. "Including garage access, grid walk, everything."

Your dad has to sit down, clutching the passes like they might disappear. "This is… I can't…"

"And this," Max hands him another package, "is just a little something extra."

Inside is a vintage racing jacket from your dad's favorite driver from the 80s, signed and authenticated. Your dad actually tears up.

Your mom opens her gift next, despite protesting again that Max shouldn't have gotten them anything. She unwraps a beautiful pair of earrings.

"Oh, Max," she whispers, "This is beautiful."

Ruby, who has been surprisingly patient, tugs at Max's sleeve. "Can we do my princess breakfast now?"

"After we finish presents," you laugh. "And maybe we should have real breakfast first?"

"But I'm a princess now," she declares. "Princesses have special breakfast times."

Your mom shakes her head fondly. "How about pancakes fit for a princess?"

"With chocolate chips?" Ruby negotiates.

"With chocolate chips," your mom confirms. "Max, honey, how do you like your pancakes?"

"However they're made is perfect," he assures her, but your mom is already heading to the kitchen, muttering about making sure she has enough chocolate chips.

Your dad finally finds his voice again. "Max, this is too much…"

"It's not," Max says firmly. "You're… you're family now. Or at least, I hope…"

He glances at you meaningfully, making your heart skip a beat.

Later, after pancakes and multiple princess dress changes from Ruby, you manage to steal some time alone with Max in your favorite spot on the back porch. The morning sun has warmed the air slightly, but there's still a crisp winter chill that gives you an excuse to stay close to him.

"Your turn," Max says softly, pulling out a small wrapped box from his pocket.

Your hands tremble slightly as you unwrap it, revealing a velvet jewelry box. Inside is a delicate silver necklace with two intertwined pendants - a heart and a tiny racing helmet.

"Max," you breathe, touching the pendants gently. "It's beautiful."

"Look at the back," he says quietly, his voice carrying a note of nervousness you rarely hear.

You turn the heart over to find an engraving: "You're my biggest victory. -MV"

"I love you," you whisper, pulling him down for a kiss. His arms wrap around you, holding you close as if you're the most precious thing in his world.

When you finally part, you hand him your gift - a wrapped box that makes him raise his eyebrows at the weight.

Inside, he finds a handmade scrapbook filled with your personal moments - sneaky paddock kisses, quiet mornings at home, victory celebrations, and candid moments no one else has seen. The final page holds a photo from yesterday - Max on the floor with Ruby, both laughing during their third viewing of Frozen.

"This is…" he starts, voice thick with emotion.

"Wait," you say softly, reaching into your pocket. You pull out a key on a simple keychain. "I thought… maybe… if you wanted…"

"Move in with you?" he finishes, breaking into that brilliant smile that never fails to make your heart race. "Yes. Absolutely yes."

He pulls you into another kiss, deeper this time, one hand cradling the back of your head while the other holds the key carefully.

"MAX!" Ruby's voice carries from inside. "I need help with my Cinderella shoes! And then we have to build a snowman! A FROZEN snowman!"

You both laugh against each other's lips.

"Duty calls, Elsa," you tease.

"Only if you'll be my Olaf," he grins, pressing one more quick kiss to your lips.

"Always," you promise, letting him lead you back inside where Ruby waits, already changed into her third princess dress of the morning.

Your dad catches your eye as you pass, "If you don't marry this boy," he whispers, "I will."

"Dad!"

"I'm just saying," he shrugs, then heads outside to join the snowman-building committee.

Your mom appears at your other side, wrapping an arm around you. "He's right, you know. He's perfect for you."

You lean your head on her shoulder, watching Max let Ruby direct him on where to place the snowman's arms. "I know," you smile. "I know."

"Best Christmas ever?" she asks softly.

Looking at your family, and Max in the middle of it all, belonging there like he's always been part of it - you smile.

"Best Christmas ever," you agree.

[nullen-void]

For a long time I wondered if the final TF2 comic would ever come out. For a longer time I wondered if I wanted it to. They built it up so much, hyped the Administrator's big plan so high, and then waited so long, could they possibly ever meet expectations?

I don't know if what they did was what they originally planned, or if there even was a plan, but I think they knocked it out of the park. It feels... right.

And it cemented the Administrator as one of the most terrifying villains in history. But before I discuss that, SPOILERS:

It was all pointless. None of it ever mattered.

The Gravel Wars, the fighting, the Australium, the deaths, the Classic Mercs, none of it mattered at all. Because Helen or whatever her name is just an addict getting her fix.

She kept a man alive for near enough two hundred years, trapped in the moment just before death by a thousand diseases, because she dedicated her life so thoroughly to ending him that when he finally croaked, she had nothing left. So she brought him back to suffer more. And then extended her OWN life so she could keep making him suffer.

And she doesn't even remember why. She was a child when Zepheniah Mann killed her parents, and she's something like a hundred and seventy years old now. It's been three normal lifetimes since then, and she's forgotten. But she never forgot the hate.

She sabotaged two infant's futures by raising them to be bafoons just to hurt their father. She orchestrated a forever war to spite a single man. She was prepared to keep this going until the heat death of the universe.

Do you know what would have happened if Pauling had lost her nerve and admitted they found a new stash of magic metal? With all three Mann brothers dead, she probably would have gone after Olivia. The last Mann standing, and a girl who at the time was only seven and had barely any connection to the Mann legacy at all, and probably didn't know her grandfather's name! And Helen would have gone after her and ruined her life just to make Zepheniah watch as yet another generation of Mann was ruined.

What a pointless, misspent life. What a waste of time. What an ending.

It makes what comes next all the greater. Scout and Soldier are dads with happy children, Spy still can't admit their relation but gets to be part of his grandkids' lives and he and Jeremy trust each other enough that Scout doesn't blink when he takes his mask off. Team Fortress is happy. They moved on. Found new lives.

Helen couldn't. She had all the time in the world and then some, and she just couldn't move on.

What a waste.

[the-kr8tor]

She Chose Me

Pairing: Ekko x fem! Reader

Synopsis: Ekko asks you to help him pierce his ear, but it leads to something unexpected.

Word count: 2.2k

Tags: Use of Y/N sparsely, no specific physical description of the reader (except for clothing), established relationship, childhood friends to lovers (speed run edition), lovestruck! Ekko, spoilers for season 2, CW blood mention, fluff.

@yumeaoka-chan -- I combined your prompt (using z-drive after R confesses) with this one I hope it's okay! If not I can still do your request 🫶

Navigation

“Stop moving, Ekko.” Your hands pause on his ear lobe, the needle in between your index and thumb shakes slightly from trepidation.

“I'm not.” He says, brows pinched together, nose scrunched up in front of the cracked hand mirror he's holding.

“Yes, you are. You're fidgeting.” Leaning down, knee pressed on the side of his thigh whilst he's sitting down on a tiny stool. Chin laying atop his shoulder, you stare at him through the mirror. “Just breathe, boss man.” He huffs at the nickname, the small smile on his lips betraying the annoyed huff.

Ekko seems confident in his seat, brown eyes steady, breathing stable and his hands don't tremble despite the looming danger he's about to face. Danger you're about to face.

The tree house is brightly lit with the warm lamp illuminating directly at him and you. But the air around you sits heavy with worry and fear for what's to come. He may seem fine on the outside, but he's frozen with fear inside. His stomach feels like it's about to flip at any moment, breath heavy inside his throat, and heart pounding with every second it ticks by. He's afraid, deadly afraid. But he won't let it show, especially to you. And yet, you know. You can see it in how his eyes dart back and forth from the clock ticking in the corner, then over to the reflection of your face. You've known him for a long time, ever since you grew up with him on the same streets.

Familiarity comes with it, affection dragged alongside the familiarity.

“I'll just do it myself.” Twisting around in his seat, stool squeaking, he tries to grab the clean needle from you. He fails when you move it away from his reach. “C’mon, if you don't want to do it, I'll do it.”

“Too late for that. Besides, I already disinfected it.” You tilt your head with the same look you give him whenever you catch him lying. Surrendering, he drops his hand to his lap.

“Then why are you hesitating?” His eyes narrow at you, trying to ignore how his jacket looks good on you. “Do you still not believe me that it'll look good?”

“No, I believe you.” You click your tongue, pushing the swivel stool so that his back is turned away from you. He rolls his eyes at your indignation. “I know you'll look good with anything, Ekko.” Lifting up the mirror with your hand wrapped gently around his wrist, you can see yourself in the mirror again, and how his eyes avoid your own. He doesn't flinch from the contact, he languishes in it. “It’s just that— your timing is a bit off.”

You've iced his bruises, lovingly painted on his face with the same hourglass shape almost everyday, it's only natural that you'd pierce his ear too. Despite your initial protest.

“No time like the present.” Ekko glances at your reflection, your eyes boring into the side of his head with worry. For a second, he contemplates whether or not he should tell you what happened in the alternate universe. But he thinks it's better off telling you about his feelings for you rather than explain what he experienced. One day he'll tell you, but for now he focuses on winning the war so that day would come. It's easier to explain that he's been in love with you for the past seven or so years. But he won't actually do it now, right?

“I thought about it, Y/N. I'm sure.”

Smiling, you take his chin gently in your hand, making him face the mirror and in turn face you. “I know you don't do anything half assed.” Flicking your eyes at his hair, you smile wider, “I mean, that hair?” You whistle lowly. “You look fucking dapper, more than ready to take on the whole noxian army.”

Ekko swallows thickly, hands clammy, and the mirror in danger of slipping from his grip. “Thanks.” Inhaling, he hides his flustered self effortlessly. He's experienced in that area after years of doing it. He clears his throat. “Can you please just do it?”

“Of course.” You lean away, assuming the previous position of you holding the needle at his earlobe. He can't ignore how warm your hands are, or how your eyes trace the slope of his face with a sneaky look. “When you stop squirming that is.”

With a roll of his eyes, Ekko swiftly twists the seat to face you once again. The sudden momentum has you almost falling backwards, if not for his hands holding and catching you in place, you would've fallen flat on your back. You notice his warm hands on your bare waist, cropped shirt leaving your skin naked and in full display for him.

You thought that he would pull back from the contact and how you look at him with wild eyes, but within a second, he pulls you in, standing you in between his legs. Placing your hand on his shoulders, and the other accidentally on his bare stomach, you're careful not to poke him with the needle. Your eyes never left his, and his own never left the comfort of your stare.

“I don't…” His eyes stare intently, hands squeezing the dip of your hips. “...Squirm.”

Your skin is aflame, goosebumps spreading like wildfire all over you. “N–No, you don't.” You feel like a puddle, and he's ready to soak you right up.

He nods once, taking your wrist and placing the needle to graze at the shell of his ear. “Glad we could finally agree.”

Cupping his cheek with your free hand, you sigh. “I'm worried about you, Ekko.”

“Is that why you're stalling?” He asks, leaning against your hand as he stares up at you with soft eyes.

“That, and I've only pierced ears thrice in my life. Two for me, one for Scar.” Chuckling, you brush your thumb right under his tired eyes. There's a shine on those eyes you love so much, something akin to hope. You know he saw something in those months he was gone. He isn't ready yet to tell you, but you're willing to wait and stick around just for him. He doesn't even need to tell you anything, he's already here back with you and that's enough. “I–I don't know what's gonna happen out there. I know not getting injured is out of the question, but please, I still want to tell you to be careful.”

His vision flashes back to you in the other universe, where your eyes aren't permanently etched with fatigue, lips forever pressed together in a smile. She was you, and her lips were on his own for a moment. But he knows you and her aren't the same person. Both were born and raised in Zaun, but lived in two different circumstances.

And yet, both chose to be with him.

“Ekko?” With your voice calling him, he blinks and your face greets him back, the same face he grew up with, the same face he loved throughout the years. “I won't pierce your ear until you promise me.”

“I love you.” He blurts out, but not lacking sincerity.

You chuckle, needle almost slipping from your fingers. “You do?”

“Yeah, figured, why the hell not?” His nonchalance helps hide his apprehension.

“Is this your way of making me pierce your ears?” You say through the unshed tears.

Ekko raises a brow, the corner of his lips tugging into a smile. “You're stalling again.”

“This time I'm not.” Sitting down on his lap to level with him, he graciously lets you with his hand pushing on your waist so you could be closer to him. His hands never left your body, holding you in place. Cupping his cheeks, you pull him closer to your waiting lips. “I was just taking the time to simmer in your confession. Scar owes me lunch.”

“You bet on—? Shut up about Scar—” with a soft push against the small of your back, he meets halfway with you. Finally sealing your lips with a much awaited kiss.

Ekko hums against you, the sound reverberating from your lips down to your chest, filling it with warmth. He holds you flush against him. Chest to chest, arms holding you impossibly closer. The sound of your lips in sync with his echoes around the small room. Eyes closed, you memorize how he feels on you, how his breath stutters against you, and how his eyes fluttered closed the second you kissed him back with the same softness and fervent.

His hands slither across your back until he blindly reaches for the back of your neck, pulling you closer, angling your face to better kiss you fully. It's the first kiss out of many, sloppy, smiling in between, teeth still clashing together, and nose knocking against one another, but it still has you breathless in his arms.

“Ekko.” You whisper, leaning slightly away to intake air back into your lungs. “I love you too. Have been since you accidentally knocked me unconscious with a wrench.”

He blinks, hand moving away from you to pull at the rope on his z-drive. The world goes back a few seconds with you locking lips with him, heaving in place, hands balled around his hair.

“I love you too. Have been since you accidentally knocked me unconscious with a wrench.”

He beams at you, pulling and releasing the rope back to reverse time once more to hear the words he has only heard in his dreams.

You pull back away from him, lips obviously kissed. “I love you too. Have been since you accidentally knocked me unconscious with a wrench.”

Ekko chuckles, placing his forehead atop yours to breathe you in. You giggle, releasing his hair to slide your hands down and move towards his chest to feel his beating heart against your palms.

“Sorry, just wanted to hear you say it again. You fell for me because of that?”

Your brows furrow at his peculiar words. Eyes moving at his hand that's still clutching the rope, you laugh. “You could've just asked me to say it again. The wrench probably knocked something loose.” You joke, still panting from the kiss.

Leaning away, his knuckles brush along your jaw then down to your lips where he wipes the sheen with his thumb. “And I wanted to kiss you again.”

“You should've said so.” Your eyes are practically shaped like hearts. “Pucker up, Ekko.”

He smiles, closing the distance once again. The kiss was much more familiar this time, soft and gentle, savouring every second of it. Your nose still nudges his own, but it's intentional this time. He still smiles during the kiss, but it's because you do too. Once he reluctantly moves away to inhale, you grab his face, pecking all over his cheek, chin, nose and forehead, until there's no space that's left unkissed. You pull away, and he does the same, lips smacking carefully against the tip of your nose, in between your eyes, and cheekbones, until you're a giggling mess in his arms.

Ekko looks at you with a lopsided smile, giddiness etched on his ecstatic expression. “Now we're both stalling.”

“At this point we're not getting anything done. Baby blue might bust in here to tell us off.”

“Later then.” He promises, a promise to be careful, a promise that he'll come back to you alive.

You nod, kissing him chastely, eyes tightly closed with a hope that your kiss would single handedly protect him. Pulling away, you grin at him, easing him some more. “Later, I promise.” You vow him the same thing.

“Okay,” he pats your thigh, reluctantly lifting you off his lap. “Come and stab me.”

Shaking your head with a smile, you take a fresh needle and quickly disinfect it since the needle you were holding onto is long gone in between the floorboards. Cleaning your hands, you shake your nerves away, and the trembling in your hands, not from the anxiety but from his breathtaking kiss.

Holding his ear lobe, you're the one holding your breath in once he nods at you to do it. With the needle piercing him, and the new silver hoop earring in, you marvel at the sight of your handiwork.

You hold the mirror up, showing him the back. “You didn't bleed much, thank fuck. What do you think?”

Ekko, rotates on his seat again, grabbing you by your hips with his finger looped around your belt loops and pulling you closer as he looks up at you with endearment.

“I like it, what do you think?” He plops his head on your shoulder, careful not to nudge his new piercing.

“You're right, it suits you. You look very handsome.” You whisper, hand splayed over his back, and lips blowing air into his warm ear, making him flinch away. He looks at you, feigning offense but his mirrored smile says otherwise. “You're welcome, you still need to pay me though.”

“Oh really?” The silver earring sparkles in the light as he tilts his head teasingly. “In what kind?”

You pretend to think. “Hmm, I'll take payment in kisses.”

He shrugs, taking your chin in between his fingers. “Pucker up then. I have too much so I expect some spare change right after.”

[churipu]

"SHUT UP, MAMA." 𓆝 ⋆｡𖦹°‧

ִ ࣪𖤐 featuring. gojo satoru, toji fushiguro, nanami kento

ִ ࣪𖤐 warnings. fem! reader, husband! au, i made names for your children but feel free to disregard it

note. i remembered this tiktok trend, just figured i should write about how the jjk men would react to their child doing this.

𝐆𝐎𝐉𝐎 𝐒𝐀𝐓𝐎𝐑𝐔

gojo had a day off. it's rare for a jujutsu sorcerer like him — being the strongest, he's an asset to the jujutsu world. so him being in a day off is like a miracle to both you and your seven year old son, who might i say, is an exact carbon copy of your husband.

"honey, you need to put your toys away. it's almost dinner time," you said from the kitchen, gojo by your side, ready to help you with anything.

"let me take that," he sings out, grabbing two plates from your grasp — you chuckled, letting him take the white colored ceramic disk, "looks good, baby."

as you and gojo walked out of the kitchen, placing the plates on top of the dining table. gojo pulled out your seat for you. habits die hard, the male has always pulled your seat out for you since the very first date.

your son. marise gojo. a boisterous little boy, absolutely loves to play with his rocket toys, and somehow believes he's a little astronaut. there he sat in front of the TV, playing with his toys, an astronaut helmet covering his small head.

"buddy," gojo calls out to the boy, "it's dinner time, clean up your toys. mama made some good food."

when gojo's call didn't work, you tried doing it next, "marise, your food's going to get cold, honey."

the young boy didn't make any visible movements, but you heard him yell out with his high pitched voice, "shut up, mama!"

gojo looks at you briefly. i mean — as a father, he couldn't believe his own son said that. to his mother. gojo wasn't one to get mad, in fact, marise is a total daddy's boy. but he felt angry, frustrated, annoyed, all at once.

he wasted no time leaping up from his seat, approaching the young boy. his smile no longer visible; gojo was unhappy. the male used one of his hands to take off marise's astronaut helmet, tossing it aside before grabbing the young boy by his small waist.

marise didn't complain, and he still has no idea of what his father is about to do. so he just sat still in gojo's embrace — until gojo puts him down beside you, "say sorry."

marise's bright blue eyes stared up at gojo in confusion, "say sorry to mama, marise."

it wasn't "baby" or "buddy" like gojo used to address him by, and marise wasn't stupid. he knew he did something wrong, but he just didn't get what or why his father is telling him to apologize to you.

"sorry mama . . ." marise's soft voice resounds.

"do you know what you did wrong?" gojo questions sternly.

marise shook his head, his eyes watering at gojo's tone of voice, "no papa . . ."

gojo sighs, he squats down and gazes into his son's eyes, "you should never say 'shut up' to mama or papa, okay? not to anyone, 'ts not polite. don't ever do that again, now say sorry to mama for saying that."

marise nods his head and turns to look at you, his eyes watering — it's not everyday that you get to see papa gojo get angry, "'m sorry mama, i will never do that again," the young boy finally cried, letting his tears fall out of his doe eyes.

you can't help but to smile at the young boy, pulling him onto your lap to cradle him, "don't do that again, baby. 'ts not polite," your fingers grazed his chubby cheeks, wiping his tears away, "and if mama or papa tells you to stop playing and eat, what do you do?"

marise sniffled, "stop playing and eat."

"good boy," you kissed his little forehead, "go give papa a kiss."

and that marise did, gojo immediately picking the boy into his arms with a big smile, "give papa two kisses, buddy."

sure, gojo is a fun parent. but he knows how to teach his children boundaries — what to do and what not to do. he's scary when he's angry.

𝐓𝐎𝐉𝐈 𝐅𝐔𝐒𝐇𝐈𝐆𝐔𝐑𝐎

megumi is the child that made you and toji think you both should have another child — fukuo is the child that made you and toji stop wanting more children. not saying that fukuo is a bad kid, but the boy is relentless.

with a pretty large age difference between megumi and fukuo with six years, sometimes megumi had to teach fukuo some manners, telling the younger boy what's right and wrong. when fukuo misbehaves, it's megumi and you to the rescue — while toji would usually chuckle it off since, well, he's a little minus on the manners part as well. but you're working on that.

toji said so himself, he wouldn't mind fukuo misbehaving on some things. but the male did set some boundaries up for both of his boys and how they should act well towards you (and him).

today, megumi is twelve and fukuo is six. both of your boys look alike, "mama, 'm gonna be staying late at school because we have a play coming, 'm gonna help my classmate decorate the stage," megumi tells you as he puts on his shoes.

"alright, baby. have a good day at school, i love you," you pressed a kiss on megumi's head, waving him goodbye.

as megumi disappears behind the front door, you walk back inside the house, "toji, wake fukuo up, please. 'm getting his breakfast ready," toji who had his eyes on the television curtly nodded, sluggishly walking towards the boy's room.

"hey, champ." toji approaches the boy, who was sleeping soundly, "your mother's made some good food f' you. if you're not gonna eat it, i'll steal your portion."

fukuo squirmed a bit, but his eyes were still shut tightly, "fukuo," toji gently shook the boy, poking his cheek.

like anyone, fukuo didn't like his sleep disturbed, "papa, stop . . ." he mumbled out, shifting his small body so his little back was facing toji, "five more minutes."

toji sighs, "five more minutes."

he then went out of the room, "he asked for five more minutes," he informs you — sitting back down on the couch.

"five more minutes," was not an unfamiliar statement to you, especially coming from fukuo who had always managed to, of course, butcher the concept of time right after. it was either an hour, or more.

so you waited five minutes, and when the young boy didn't emerge from his bedroom, you found yourself walking towards it, "fukuo? baby, come on, mama made you breakfast . . ." you turn on the light, which made fukuo subconsciously twitch.

"fukuo, come on, papa will eat your breakfast . . ." you shook the boy gently.

"shut up, mama."

you blinked in surprise, but only managed out an exasperated sigh at the boy's sudden outburst, until all of a sudden toji appears beside you — his hand wet, and he slides his palm across the boy's face with a serious look on his face.

"wake up, fukuo. i won't tell you this again," toji mutters out, "three."

oh, god. the countdown was every kid's nightmare, "two," including fukuo's — shown by how the young boy immediately sat up on his bed, "apologize to your mother."

fukuo furrowed his brows, "why?"

"you don't tell her to shut up. apologize." you were just there silently, a little shocked at how toji had become so serious when he's usually so laid-back with the boys, "say sorry and eat your breakfast."

fukuo swallows his saliva nervously and scoots over to you, "'m sorry for telling you to shut up mama, i promise i won't do that again . . ." he whispers, throwing his short arms around your neck — burying his face into the crook of your neck.

you pulled him close, carrying the young boy in your arms, "'ts okay baby, no more telling people to shut up, okay? 's not nice, it'll hurt people's feelings."

"okay mama . . . 'm sorry for hurting your feelings," fukuo pulls back slightly, pressing a chaste kiss on your cheek before facing toji, "'m sorry for hurting mama's feelings, papa."

toji placed his palm over the boy's face, covering it entirely, a sheepish smirk plastered on his lips, "go brush y'r teeth and eat your breakfast, mama made some pancakes."

𝐍𝐀𝐍𝐀𝐌𝐈 𝐊𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐎

nanami is such a girl dad. ever since he found out that both of you were going to have a baby girl, he's delighted. just knowing that he'd have a mini version of the both of you made his stomach churn in happiness.

hoshi. nanami hoshi is her name. it was a very peaceful six years of raising her — but they said there will be a devil baby phase, and here she was. whining, throwing tantrums over things she didn't get. it was honestly tiring, but you knew this was a risk of raising a child.

"hoshi, baby, please stand up." you cooed down at the girl who was lying down on the ground. in the middle of a mall, "mama and papa will buy that toy for you next time, i promise."

nanami was by your side, holding onto the baby stroller. his eyes were unreadable, you don't know what he had in mind, but the look he peered at your daughter was plainly and eerily terrifying.

yes, there are moments where he spoils hoshi with what she wants. toys, food, drinks, you name it. but there are times where he declines because he didn't want her to grow up too spoiled, "i wan' that toy, mama!"

you inhaled sharply, trying to slide your hand underneath her armpits to pick her up, but hoshi refused by kicking your hands away. her little kicks barely scratched you — but the people looking at your small family as they passed by definitely got a little kick to you.

"baby, people are looking at you . . ." you whispered.

"i don't care, shut up, mama!"

that was the last straw for nanami who had been silent. he grabbed your arm and tugged you up gently, nodding at you as if telling you to leave this one to him.

you backed away slightly, taking a hold of the stroller nanami had let go a few seconds prior as he squats down. forcefully but gently slipping his hands underneath hoshi's armpits, carrying her into his arms.

"mama said we will buy that toy for you next time, okay?" he sternly said, eyeing his little girl who was now silent as she gazed into his eyes, "and you never. never tell mama to shut up, do you understand?"

hoshi nods her head slowly, lips quivering at her father's sudden lecture, nanami's eyes visibly softened and he rocked her in his arms, "papa's not angry at you, hoshi. but papa wants you to know that telling mama to shut up is not polite, okay?"

again hoshi nods her head.

"go and say that you're sorry to mama," he pecked her chubby cheeks before letting her down onto the ground.

hoshi's little legs ran towards you, hugging your leg, "'m so sorry mama," she muffles into your leg, "i don't want the toy anymore, mama. 'm sorry for being a bad girl."

you squat down, nuzzling your nose to her, "you're not a bad girl, baby . . . mama and papa will buy you that next time, okay? we promise."

"okay, mama. i love you."

© CHURIPU 2024 , DO NOT COPY OR REPOST ANYWHERE