#i just want to have my own thing :( is that like selfish to want?

[bunnies-p1tst0p]

Him singing happy birthday to her, even going off to find a cupcake and candle. Ugh! That shit had me genuinely tearing up, like no joke

Max leans forward, his expression earnest. “Try me. I want to hear all about it.”

Max listens intently, asking questions and showing genuine curiosity.

- He truly wants to know everything

Without really noticing, you both shift positions throughout the night. Max leans back against the headboard, and you mirror him. Your shoulders are pressed together, and you can feel the warmth radiating from his body.

-Kicking my feet rn

You sigh, reaching out to touch one of the velvety petals. “It’s just ... I’ve told Charles a hundred times that I don’t like roses. They’re not my favorite flower. But every time he needs to apologize or wants to do something nice, it’s always roses.”

-Oh gosh Charles. Fr?!

Max shakes his head firmly. “No. You don’t have to forgive them right away just because they made a grand gesture. It’s okay to make them work for your forgiveness.”

“Then don’t,” Max says simply. “Take the time you need. They can wait.”

“It’s not selfish to prioritize your own feelings and well-being. You matter, Y/N. Your feelings matter.”

-

THIS THIS THIS

Max’s expression softens, a tender smile playing at his lips. “You don’t have to thank me for that. I ... I care about you, Y/N. A lot.”

Your heart skips a beat at his words. “I care about you too,” you admit.

-EHHHHHHH

“Maybe because he was there when we weren’t,” he says softly.

-YUP YUPPPPO

“No,” you confirm. “I mean, don’t get me wrong, I appreciate nice things. But that’s not what this is about. It’s about him actually listening to me, actually seeing me as a person and not just ... his kid sister who can be bought off.”

-Charles..

You nod, his words resonating with you. “You’re right. I’ll keep the bracelet ... but everything else goes back.”

-YUP AS U SHPULD

just maybe, you’ve found someone who sees you for exactly who you are.

-YESSSSSS

When it’s time to leave, Charles stands up, hesitating for a moment before opening his arms. “Can I ...”

You nod, stepping into his embrace. Charles holds you tight, realizing how long it’s been since he’s really hugged you like this.

-Sooo glad they could make up! So glad she stood her ground and he finally listened

Charles jumps to his feet, letting out a whoop that echoes through the auditorium. “That’s my sister!” He shouts, drawing startled looks from nearby attendees.

Lorenzo and Arthur quickly join in, their cheers mixing with Charles’. Max and Pascale stand too, clapping enthusiastically.

-OMG THEY ALL WERE THERE AND CHEERED HER ON

You glance around the car — at Charles and Arthur bickering good-naturedly in the back seat, at your mother chatting happily with Lorenzo who’s driving, and finally at Max beside you, his hand warm in yours. Your family, in all its chaotic, loving glory.

And as the car winds its way through the streets of Monaco, towards a future bright with possibility, you know that it’s true. You’re exactly where you’re meant to be, surrounded by love, with the stars stretching out endlessly before you.

-Bout to cry again.

THIS WAS A MASTERPIECE AS ALWAYS. THANK YOU BEAUTIFUL AUTHOR FOR YOUR BEAUTIFUL WORK!!!!!!!!

Little Star

Max Verstappen x Leclerc!Reader

Summary: you’ve grown used to being overshadowed by your older brother, merely a distant star that seems dull in comparison to the sun of Maranello … and then Max happens

Based on this request

The sun dips low on the horizon, casting long shadows across the paddock of the Autodromo Nazionale Monza. The air still buzzes with excitement from the day’s race, but behind the Ferrari hospitality unit, a different energy permeates the air.

You lean against the cool metal wall, sliding down until you’re sitting on the concrete, knees pulled to your chest. Tears stream silently down your face as you struggle to catch your breath between sobs. The sounds of celebration echo in the distance, a stark contrast to your solitude.

Footsteps approach, and you hastily wipe at your eyes, hoping to erase any evidence of your breakdown. A familiar figure rounds the corner, stopping short when he spots you.

“Hey,” Max Verstappen says, his brow furrowing with concern. “Are you alright?”

You force a smile, but it doesn’t reach your eyes. “I’m fine,” you insist, your voice wavering slightly. “Just ... needed some air.”

Max doesn’t buy it for a second. He crouches down beside you, his blue eyes searching your face. “You don’t look fine,” he says gently. “What’s going on?”

You bite your lip, debating whether to confide in him. After a moment, you sigh. “It’s stupid,” you mumble.

“If it’s making you cry, it’s not stupid,” Max counters. He settles down next to you, his shoulder brushing yours. “Come on, talk to me.”

You take a shaky breath. “It’s my birthday,” you admit quietly.

Max’s eyebrows shoot up. “Today? Why aren’t you celebrating?”

A bitter laugh escapes your lips. “Because everyone forgot,” you explain, fresh tears welling up. “Charles won the race, and ... I’m happy for him, I really am. But it’s like I don’t even exist when he’s around, you know?”

Max nods slowly, understanding dawning on his face. “That must be really tough,” he says softly.

You nod, sniffling. “I’ve always felt like I was in his shadow, but today ... it just hit me harder, I guess. Even my mom forgot.”

“That’s not okay,” Max says firmly. “Your birthday should be special, no matter what else is happening.”

You shrug, picking at a loose thread on your jeans. “It’s fine. I’m used to it.”

“No, it’s not fine,” Max insists. He stands up suddenly, determination etched on his face. “Wait here. I’ll be right back.”

Before you can protest, he’s gone, jogging away towards the paddock. You’re left alone again, wondering what he’s up to.

True to his word, Max returns a few minutes later, slightly out of breath and holding something behind his back. “Close your eyes,” he instructs with a grin.

Curious, you comply. There’s a rustling sound, and then Max’s voice rings out, clear and slightly off-key: “Happy birthday to you ...”

Your eyes fly open in surprise. Max stands before you, holding a small cupcake with a single candle stuck in the frosting. His face is illuminated by the flickering flame as he continues to sing.

“Happy birthday to you, happy birthday dear Y/N, happy birthday to you!”

Emotion wells up in your chest, a lump forming in your throat. “Max,” you whisper, overwhelmed. “You didn’t have to do this.”

He crouches down, carefully balancing the cupcake. “Of course I did,” he says softly. “Everyone deserves to feel special on their birthday. Now make a wish and blow out your candle.”

You close your eyes, thinking for a moment before leaning forward to extinguish the tiny flame. When you open them again, Max is beaming at you.

“What did you wish for?” He asks, settling back down beside you and offering you the cupcake.

You shake your head, a small smile tugging at your lips. “Can’t tell you, or it won’t come true.”

Max laughs, nudging your shoulder playfully. “Fair enough. So, twenty-two, huh? How does it feel to be so old?”

You roll your eyes, but can’t help chuckling. “Says the guy who’s practically ancient at twenty-six.”

“Hey!” Max protests, feigning offense. “I’ll have you know I’m in my prime.”

The banter feels natural, and you find yourself relaxing for the first time all day. You take a bite of the cupcake, savoring the sweetness. “This is really good,” you mumble around a mouthful of frosting. “Where did you even find it?”

Max grins mischievously. “I have my sources. Can’t reveal all my secrets, can I?”

You laugh, shaking your head. “Thank you, Max. Really. This ... it means a lot.”

His expression softens. “You’re welcome. I’m sorry the rest of your family forgot. That’s not fair to you.”

You sigh, your momentary happiness fading slightly. “It’s not their fault. Charles had a big win today, and-”

“Stop,” Max interrupts gently. “You don’t have to make excuses for them. Your feelings are valid.”

You blink, surprised by his directness. “I ... I guess I’m just used to it,” you admit. “It’s always been about Charles. Even before he got into F1, he was the golden child. I love him, don’t get me wrong, but sometimes ...”

“Sometimes you want to be seen too,” Max finishes for you. You nod, grateful that he understands.

“Exactly. And it’s not just Charles. Arthur’s always been following in his footsteps, and Lorenzo ... well, he’s the oldest. I’m just ... there.”

Max frowns. “That’s not true. You’re your own person, with your own talents and dreams. Have you talked to them about how you feel?”

You shake your head. “I don’t want to make them feel bad. Especially Charles. He works so hard, and he deserves his success.”

“His success doesn’t diminish your worth,” Max says firmly. “You deserve to be celebrated too.”

Tears prick at your eyes again, but for a different reason this time. “Thank you,” you whisper. “I don’t think anyone’s ever put it quite like that before.”

Max smiles softly. “Well, it’s true. And for what it’s worth, I think you’re pretty amazing.”

A blush creeps up your cheeks. “You barely know me,” you point out.

“I know enough,” Max counters. “I know you’re kind enough to put your family’s happiness before your own. I know you’re strong enough to handle being overlooked without becoming bitter. And I know you’ve got a great taste in cupcakes.”

You laugh, the sound bubbling up from deep in your chest. “Well, when you put it like that ...”

Max grins, clearly pleased to have made you smile. “So, birthday girl, what do you want to do now? The night is young, and I happen to know where they keep the good champagne around here.”

You hesitate, glancing towards the paddock where you can still hear the sounds of celebration. “I don’t know ... I should probably go find my family.”

Max raises an eyebrow. “On your birthday? Come on, live a little. They can wait.”

A spark of rebellion ignites in your chest. “You know what? You’re right. Let’s do it.”

Max jumps to his feet, offering you his hand. “That’s the spirit! First stop, champagne. Then, who knows? Maybe we’ll steal a golf cart and go joyriding around the track.”

You take his hand, allowing him to pull you up. “Is that even allowed?”

Max’s eyes twinkle with mischief. “Probably not. But it’s your birthday, so I think we can bend the rules a little.”

As you follow Max towards the paddock, a warmth spreads through your chest that has nothing to do with the lingering summer heat. For the first time in years, you feel seen. Appreciated. Special.

“Hey, Max?” You say, causing him to pause and look back at you.

“Yeah?”

You smile, genuine and bright. “Thank you. For everything.”

Max’s expression softens. “Anytime,” he says softly. “Now come on, birthday girl. Let’s make this a night to remember.”

As you walk side by side into the fading light, you can’t help but feel that this birthday might just be the start of something new. Something exciting. Something uniquely yours.

And for once, you’re not thinking about Charles, or Arthur, or anyone else. You’re just thinking about you, and the possibilities that stretch out before you like an open road.

Happy birthday indeed.

***

The Ferrari hospitality suite thrums with energy, laughter and music spilling out into the warm Italian night. Charles Leclerc stands at the center of it all, a wide grin plastered across his face as he basks in the glow of his hard-fought victory. Champagne flows freely, and the air is thick with the scent of celebration.

“To Charles!” Someone shouts, raising a glass. The room erupts in cheers, and Charles feels a swell of pride in his chest.

“Speech! Speech!” The crowd chants, and Charles laughs, holding up his hands in mock surrender.

“Alright, alright,” he concedes, clearing his throat. “I just want to say thank you to everyone here. This win ... it’s not just mine. It’s ours. The team, the mechanics, the engineers, the strategists ... we did this together.”

More cheers erupt, and Charles feels a hand clap him on the back. He turns to see his teammate grinning broadly.

“Well said, amigo,” Carlos says, slinging an arm around Charles’ shoulders. “You drove like a champion today.”

Charles beams, the praise from his teammate adding to the euphoria of the moment. “Thanks, Carlos. Couldn’t have done it without you pushing me.”

Carlos laughs, taking a swig of his drink. “Always happy to provide motivation. Oh, hey, before I forget — can you pass on my birthday wishes to Y/N? I meant to find her earlier, but things got a bit crazy.”

The words hit Charles like a bucket of ice water. His smile freezes, his eyes widening in horror. “W-what?” He stammers, hoping he’s misheard.

Carlos frowns, noticing the sudden change in Charles’ demeanor. “Your sister? It’s her birthday today, right? Her 22nd?”

Charles feels the room spin around him. How could he have forgotten? His little sister’s birthday, on the same day as his big win. The realization crashes over him in waves of guilt and shame.

“Charles?” Carlos prompts, concern evident in his voice. “You okay, mate?”

Charles shakes his head, trying to clear the fog of shock. “I ... I forgot,” he whispers, more to himself than to Carlos. “How could I forget?”

Carlos’ eyes widen in understanding. “Oh, shit,” he mutters. “You didn’t remember?”

Charles runs a hand through his hair, panic rising in his chest. “I was so focused on the race, and then the win ... God, I’m such an idiot.”

He scans the room frantically, hoping against hope that he’ll spot you among the partygoers. But of course, you’re not there. Why would you be, when your own family forgot your birthday?

“I need to find her,” Charles says, already moving towards the exit. “I need to apologize.”

Carlos nods, squeezing Charles’ shoulder supportively. “Go. I’ll cover for you here if anyone asks.”

Charles barely hears him, his mind racing as he pushes through the crowd. He bursts out of the hospitality suite, the cool night air a stark contrast to the stuffy interior.

“Y/N!” He calls out, his voice echoing in the near-empty paddock. But there’s no response.

Panic rising, Charles pulls out his phone, fumbling with the screen as he opens his contacts. He hits your name, holding the phone to his ear as it rings.

Once. Twice. Three times. Then, your voicemail.

“Hey, this is Y/N. Leave a message!”

Charles swears under his breath, ending the call. He tries again, and again, but each time it goes straight to voicemail.

“Come on, come on,” he mutters, pacing back and forth. Where could you be? Who would you have gone to when your family let you down?

A thought strikes him, and he quickly dials another number.

“Hello?” Arthur’s sleepy voice answers.

“Arthur!” Charles practically shouts. “Is Y/N with you?”

There’s a pause, then confusion in Arthur’s tone. “No? Why would she be? Aren’t you guys celebrating?”

Charles feels his heart sink even further. “Arthur, it’s her birthday. We forgot.”

“Shit,” Arthur breathes. “How did we ... God, we’re terrible brothers.”

“I know, I know,” Charles says, the guilt eating away at him. “I’m trying to find her now. Can you call Maman and Lorenzo, see if they’ve heard from her?”

“Yeah, of course,” Arthur agrees quickly. “I’ll call you back if I hear anything.”

Charles ends the call, his mind whirling. Where else could you be? He tries to think back to earlier in the day, wondering if he’d seen you at all after the race. But everything is a blur of champagne and celebration, and he realizes with a sickening jolt that he can’t remember the last time he actually spoke to you.

He’s about to start knocking on motorhome doors when another idea strikes him. Quickly, he opens the Life360 app on his phone. The family had started using it a few years back, mainly to keep track of each other during race weekends.

Charles waits impatiently for the app to load, praying that it will show your location. But when the map finally appears, his heart sinks. Your icon is greyed out, with a message underneath: “Location permissions turned off.”

“No, no, no,” Charles mutters, refreshing the app desperately. But the result is the same. You’ve deliberately turned off your location tracking.

The realization hits him like a punch to the gut. You didn’t just disappear — you chose to be unfindable. And it’s all his fault.

Charles slumps against the nearest wall, sliding down until he’s sitting on the ground. He puts his head in his hands, overwhelmed by the magnitude of his mistake.

“I’m so sorry, Y/N,” he whispers into the night. “I’m so, so sorry.”

As he sits there, memories flood his mind. Your proud smile when he won his first karting race. The way you’d curl up next to him during thunderstorms, seeking comfort. Your unwavering support through every step of his career, even when it meant less attention for you.

And how had he repaid that loyalty? By forgetting the one day that was supposed to be about you.

Charles’ phone buzzes, and he snatches it up eagerly. But it’s just a text from his mother:

Haven’t heard from Y/N. Is everything okay?

He stares at the message, unsure how to respond. How can he explain that he’s lost his little sister on her birthday?

Another text comes through, this time from Lorenzo:

No luck here either. What’s going on?

Charles takes a deep breath, steeling himself. He has to tell them the truth, no matter how much it hurts.

He creates a group chat with his mom, Lorenzo, and Arthur, his fingers shaking slightly as he types:

We forgot Y/N’s birthday. All of us. She’s not answering her phone and her location is turned off. I can’t find her anywhere.

The responses come in rapid succession:

Maman: Oh no. How could we forget?

Lorenzo: Shit. Have you checked with her friends?

Arthur: I’m on my way to the track now. We’ll find her.

Charles feels a mix of relief and shame. At least now everyone knows, and they can all work together to make things right. But the fact remains that they let you down in the first place.

He’s about to reply when he spots a familiar figure walking across the paddock. Max Verstappen, looking slightly disheveled and ... was that a touch of glitter on his cheek?

Without thinking, Charles jumps to his feet and runs over to his rival.

“Max!” He calls out, slightly out of breath. “Have you seen Y/N?”

Max turns, surprise evident on his face. Then, something else flickers in his eyes. Anger? Disappointment? It’s gone too quickly for Charles to be sure.

“Why?” Max asks, his tone cooler than usual. “Suddenly remembered she exists?”

The words sting, but Charles knows he deserves them. “Please, Max. I know I messed up. We all did. But I need to find her, to apologize.”

Max studies him for a long moment, as if weighing his options. Finally, he sighs. “She’s safe. That’s all you need to know right now.”

Relief washes over Charles, quickly followed by confusion. “You’ve seen her? Where is she?”

“I’m not telling you that,” Max says firmly. “She needed space, and after what happened, I don’t blame her.”

Charles feels a flare of frustration. “She’s my sister. I have a right to know where she is.”

“No,” Max counters, his blue eyes flashing. “You had a responsibility to remember her birthday. You didn’t. So now, you don’t get to demand anything.”

The words hit Charles like a slap. He opens his mouth to argue, then closes it again. Max is right, as much as it pains him to admit it.

“Is she ... is she okay?” Charles asks quietly, all fight leaving him.

Max’s expression softens slightly. “She will be. Eventually. But Charles, you really hurt her. All of you did.”

Charles nods, swallowing hard against the lump in his throat. “I know. God, I know. I just want to make it right.”

“Then give her time,” Max advises. “And when she’s ready to talk, really listen to her. Don’t make excuses. Don’t try to justify it. Just listen.”

Charles nods again, feeling utterly defeated. ��Will you ... will you tell her I’m sorry? That we’re all sorry?”

Max hesitates, then nods. “I will. But Charles? You need to do better. She deserves better.”

With that, Max turns and walks away, leaving Charles alone with his thoughts and regrets.

Charles pulls out his phone again, looking at the group chat with his family. He types out a message, his heart heavy:

Y/N is safe. A friend is looking out for her. We need to give her space, but when she’s ready to talk, we all need to be there. Really be there. We’ve got a lot to make up for.

As he hits send, Charles makes a silent promise to himself and to you. He’ll do better. He’ll be the brother you deserve. And somehow, someway, he’ll make this right.

But for now, all he can do is wait, and hope that you’ll find it in your heart to forgive them all.

***

The city lights twinkle below as Max leads you into his penthouse suite, the door clicking shut behind you. The space is modern and sleek, with floor-to-ceiling windows offering a breathtaking view of Milan’s skyline.

“Make yourself at home,” Max says, gesturing around the room. “Are you hungry? I can order some room service if you want.”

You shake your head, still feeling slightly overwhelmed by the events of the day. “No, thanks. I’m okay.”

Max nods, studying your face with concern. “You sure? It’s been a long day.”

A small smile tugs at your lips. “Yeah, you could say that again.”

There’s a moment of awkward silence before Max clears his throat. “So, um, you can take the bed. I’ll crash on the couch.”

“Oh, no,” you protest immediately. “I can’t kick you out of your own bed. I’ll take the couch.”

Max shakes his head firmly. “Absolutely not. It’s your birthday. You get the bed.”

You bite your lip, an idea forming. “We could ... share? I mean, if that’s okay with you. The bed looks plenty big enough.”

Max’s eyes widen slightly, a faint blush creeping up his neck. “Are you sure? I don’t want to make you uncomfortable.”

“I’m sure,” you say, surprising yourself with your boldness. “Unless it makes you uncomfortable?”

“No, no,” Max says quickly. “I’m fine with it if you are.”

You nod, and another silence falls. Max runs a hand through his hair, looking suddenly unsure of himself.

“Do you want to watch a movie or something?” he suggests. “Or we could just talk, if you prefer.”

“Talking sounds nice,” you admit. “I’m not really in the mood for a movie.”

Max nods, gesturing towards the bed. “Shall we?”

You both settle onto the massive king-size bed, sitting cross-legged and facing each other. It’s oddly intimate, and you feel a flutter of nerves in your stomach.

“So,” Max begins, his blue eyes fixed on you. “Tell me something about yourself that isn’t related to racing or your family.”

You pause, caught off guard by the question. It’s been so long since someone asked about you, just you.

“Well,” you start hesitantly, “I’m actually studying to become an astrophysicist.”

Max’s eyebrows shoot up. “Seriously? That’s incredible! Why astrophysics?”

The enthusiasm in his voice makes you smile. “I’ve always been fascinated by space, you know? The idea that there’s so much out there we don’t understand ... it’s exciting.”

“That’s amazing,” Max says, genuinely impressed. “What kind of stuff are you studying right now?”

You laugh softly. “Are you sure you want to know? I might bore you with all the technical details.”

Max leans forward, his expression earnest. “Try me. I want to hear all about it.”

Encouraged by his interest, you begin to explain your current research project. As you talk, your hands move animatedly, your eyes lighting up with passion. Max listens intently, asking questions and showing genuine curiosity.

“... and that’s why understanding dark matter is so crucial,” you finish, slightly out of breath. “Sorry, I kind of went off on a tangent there.”

Max shakes his head, smiling warmly. “Don’t apologize. It’s fascinating. I had no idea you were into all this. Why haven’t I heard about it before?”

Your smile falters slightly. “Oh, well ... it doesn’t really come up much. Everyone’s usually more interested in talking about racing.”

Max frowns. “But this is incredible. You’re studying to unravel the mysteries of the universe. That’s way cooler than driving in circles.”

You laugh, but there’s a hint of sadness in it. “Try telling that to my family. I think they see it as more of a hobby than a career path.”

“What?” Max looks genuinely shocked. “How can they not be incredibly proud? This is huge!”

You shrug, picking at a loose thread on the comforter. “I guess it’s just not as exciting as F1? It’s okay, though. I’m used to it.”

Max shakes his head firmly. “No, it’s not okay. Y/N, you’re brilliant. Your family should be shouting it from the rooftops.”

Tears prick at your eyes, and you blink them back hastily. “Thanks, Max. That ... that means a lot.”

He reaches out, hesitating for a moment before placing his hand over yours. “I mean it. And for what it’s worth, I think what you’re doing is incredible.”

You look up, meeting his gaze. There’s a warmth there, an understanding that makes your heart skip a beat. Without really thinking about it, you shift closer to him.

Max seems to take this as an invitation, because he moves closer too. Soon, you’re sitting side by side, your shoulders touching.

“So,” you say, trying to lighten the mood. “What about you? Any secret passions outside of racing?”

Max chuckles. “Nothing as impressive as astrophysics, I’m afraid. But I do enjoy sim racing in my spare time.”

You raise an eyebrow. “Isn’t that just more racing?”

“Hey, it’s completely different,” Max protests with a grin. “In sim racing, I can drive any car on any track. Even ones that don’t exist in real life.”

“Okay, okay,” you concede, laughing. “Tell me more about it.”

As Max launches into an explanation of his favorite sim racing setups, you find yourself relaxing more and more. The conversation flows easily, punctuated by laughter and playful debates.

Without really noticing, you both shift positions throughout the night. Max leans back against the headboard, and you mirror him. Your shoulders are pressed together, and you can feel the warmth radiating from his body.

“... and that’s why I think pineapple absolutely belongs on pizza,” Max finishes, looking at you expectantly.

You shake your head, grinning. “I can’t believe I’m hearing this from a world champion. Your taste buds clearly can’t be trusted.”

“Oh, come on,” Max laughs, nudging your shoulder with his. “Don’t knock it till you’ve tried it.”

“I have tried it,” you insist. “It’s an abomination.”

Max clutches his chest in mock offense. “You wound me, Y/N. And here I thought we were becoming friends.”

The word ‘friends’ sends an odd pang through your chest. Is that what this is? It feels like more, somehow.

As if reading your thoughts, Max’s expression softens. He reaches out, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. The gesture is so gentle, so intimate, that it takes your breath away.

“Y/N,” he says softly. “I’m really glad you’re here.”

You swallow hard, your heart racing. “Me too,” you whisper.

There’s a moment of charged silence, and then Max is leaning in. You meet him halfway, your lips meeting in a soft, tentative kiss.

It’s brief, just a fleeting press of lips, but it sends sparks shooting through your entire body. When you pull back, Max is looking at you with a mixture of wonder and uncertainty.

“Was that okay?” He asks, his voice husky.

You nod, not trusting yourself to speak. Instead, you lean in again, capturing his lips in another kiss. This one is deeper, more assured. Max’s hand comes up to cup your cheek, and you melt into his touch.

When you finally break apart, you’re both slightly breathless. Max rests his forehead against yours, a smile playing at his lips.

“I’ve wanted to do that all night,” he admits.

You laugh softly. “Even when I was insulting your pizza preferences?”

“Especially then,” Max grins. “You’re cute when you’re indignant.”

You swat at his arm playfully, but you can’t keep the smile off your face. For the first time all day, you feel truly happy.

As the night wears on, you and Max continue to talk, trading stories and stealing kisses. Gradually, your positions shift again. Max lies down, and you curl up against his side, your head resting on his chest. His arm wraps around you, holding you close.

“Y/N?” Max says softly, his fingers tracing patterns on your arm.

“Hmm?” you mumble, feeling drowsy and content.

“Happy birthday,” he says. “I know it didn’t start out great, but I hope it got better.”

You tilt your head up to look at him, a warm smile spreading across your face. “It did,” you assure him. “Thanks to you.”

Max kisses your forehead gently. “Get some sleep,” he murmurs. “We can figure everything else out in the morning.”

As you drift off to sleep, wrapped in Max’s arms, you can’t help but think that maybe, just maybe, this birthday wasn’t so bad after all. In fact, it might just be the start of something wonderful.

***

The early morning sunlight filters through the curtains, casting a warm glow across the room. You stir slowly, awareness creeping in as you feel a strong arm wrapped around your waist. For a moment, confusion sets in before the events of the previous night come rushing back.

You’re in Max Verstappen’s bed. And Max Verstappen is currently spooning you.

A smile tugs at your lips as you nestle back into his warmth, not quite ready to face the day. But fate, it seems, has other plans.

A sharp knock at the door jolts both of you awake. Max groans, burying his face in your hair.

“Room service?” You mumble, still half-asleep.

Max shakes his head, his voice gravelly with sleep. “Didn’t order any.”

The knock comes again, more insistent this time. With a sigh, Max untangles himself from you and slides out of bed.

“I’ll get it,” he says, running a hand through his disheveled hair. “You stay here.”

You nod, pulling the covers up to your chin and watching as Max pads to the door in his t-shirt and sweatpants. He opens it a crack, peering out.

“Can I help you?” He asks, confusion evident in his tone.

There’s a muffled response, and then Max is stepping back, opening the door wider. A hotel staff member enters, carrying an enormous bouquet of red roses.

“Delivery for Y/N Leclerc,” the staff member announces, looking around the room.

You sit up in bed, eyes wide. “That’s ... that’s me.”

The staff member nods, moving to set the bouquet on a nearby table. “Sign here, please,” he says, holding out a clipboard.

Still bewildered, you climb out of bed and make your way over, scrawling your signature on the form. The staff member thanks you and exits, leaving you and Max staring at the ostentatious display of flowers.

“Well,” Max says after a moment, “I guess your brother remembered after all.”

You let out a rueful laugh, shaking your head. “Yeah, I guess he did.”

Max frowns, noting the lack of enthusiasm in your voice. “Aren’t you happy about it?”

You sigh, reaching out to touch one of the velvety petals. “It’s just ... I’ve told Charles a hundred times that I don’t like roses. They’re not my favorite flower. But every time he needs to apologize or wants to do something nice, it’s always roses.”

“Oh,” Max says softly, understanding dawning on his face. “So it’s less about you and more about what he thinks you should like.”

You nod, a lump forming in your throat. “Exactly. It’s like he doesn’t really listen, you know? He just does what he thinks is right without considering what I actually want.”

Max moves closer, wrapping an arm around your waist and pulling you against his side. “That must be frustrating,” he says gently.

You lean into him, grateful for the support. “It is. And I know I should be grateful. It’s a beautiful bouquet, and he’s trying. But ...”

“But it’s not what you want,” Max finishes for you. “And that matters.”

You look up at him, surprised by how well he understands. “Yeah, exactly.”

Max turns to face you fully, his blue eyes serious. “Y/N, listen to me. It’s okay to be upset about this. It’s okay to want your family to actually listen to you and consider your feelings.”

You bite your lip, tears threatening to spill over. “But they’re trying now. Shouldn’t I just forgive them and move on?”

Max shakes his head firmly. “No. You don’t have to forgive them right away just because they made a grand gesture. It’s okay to make them work for your forgiveness.”

“Really?” You ask, your voice small.

“Really,” Max assures you. “They hurt you, Y/N. They forgot your birthday and made you feel invisible. One bouquet of flowers — flowers you don’t even like — doesn’t erase that.”

You nod slowly, processing his words. “So what do I do?”

Max runs a hand through his hair, thinking. “Well, what do you want to do? How do you feel?”

You take a deep breath, considering. “Honestly? I’m not ready to see them yet. I know I’ll have to face them eventually, but right now ... I just can’t.”

“Then don’t,” Max says simply. “Take the time you need. They can wait.”

A weight lifts off your shoulders at his words. “You don’t think that’s selfish?”

Max cups your face in his hands, his gaze intense. “It’s not selfish to prioritize your own feelings and well-being. You matter, Y/N. Your feelings matter.”

Tears spill over then, and Max pulls you into a tight embrace. You bury your face in his chest, letting out all the hurt and frustration you’ve been holding in.

“Shh,” Max soothes, rubbing your back. “It’s okay. Let it out.”

After a few minutes, your sobs subside. You pull back slightly, wiping at your eyes. “Sorry,” you mumble. “I got your shirt all wet.”

Max chuckles, pressing a kiss to your forehead. “I think I’ll survive. Feel better?”

You nod, offering him a watery smile. “Yeah, actually. Thanks.”

“Anytime,” Max says softly. Then, a mischievous glint enters his eye. “So, what should we do with the roses? I vote we throw them off the balcony and watch them scatter in the wind.”

You laugh, the sound bubbling up from deep in your chest. “As tempting as that is, I don’t think hotel management would appreciate it.”

Max shrugs, grinning. “Their loss. We could always donate them to a hospital or something. Brighten someone else’s day.”

“That’s ... actually a really good idea,” you say, impressed. “We could do that.”

Max beams, clearly pleased with himself. “See? I’m not just a pretty face and fast driver.”

You roll your eyes fondly, but can’t suppress your smile. “Careful, Verstappen. Your ego’s showing.”

“You love it,” he teases, pulling you close again.

As you stand there in his arms, surrounded by the cloying scent of roses you don’t even like, you’re struck by how safe you feel. How understood.

“Max?” You say softly.

“Hmm?”

You pull back slightly to meet his gaze. “Thank you. For everything. For making my birthday special, for listening to me, for ... just being here.”

Max’s expression softens, a tender smile playing at his lips. “You don’t have to thank me for that. I ... I care about you, Y/N. A lot.”

Your heart skips a beat at his words. “I care about you too,” you admit.

For a moment, you just stare at each other, the air charged with unspoken emotions. Then, slowly, Max leans in. His lips meet yours in a soft, sweet kiss that makes your toes curl.

When you break apart, you’re both slightly breathless. Max rests his forehead against yours, his thumb tracing circles on your cheek.

“So,” he says, a hint of uncertainty in his voice. “What happens now?”

You take a deep breath, considering. “Honestly? I’m not sure. This is all happening so fast, and with everything going on with my family ...”

Max nods, understanding in his eyes. “We can take it slow,” he assures you. “There’s no rush.”

Relief washes over you. “Thank you,” you say softly. “I do want this — us. I just need some time to figure everything out.”

“We’ve got all the time in the world,” Max says, pressing a gentle kiss to your nose. “For now, how about we get some breakfast? I’m starving.”

You laugh, grateful for the shift in mood. “Breakfast sounds perfect. But maybe we should change first? I’m not sure I want to face the paparazzi in yesterday’s clothes.”

Max grins, a mischievous glint in his eye. “I don’t know, I think you look pretty good in my t-shirt.”

You glance down, realizing for the first time that you’re indeed wearing one of Max’s shirts. A blush creeps up your cheeks. “When did that happen?”

“You got cold in the middle of the night,” Max explains, looking far too pleased with himself. “I offered you my shirt. You were very insistent that it was the most comfortable thing you’d ever worn.”

You groan, burying your face in your hands. “Oh god. Please tell me I didn’t say anything else embarrassing.”

Max laughs, gently prying your hands away from your face. “Nothing too bad. Though you did mention something about my waist being ‘unfairly perfect’. Your words, not mine.”

“Kill me now,” you mutter, but you can’t help the smile tugging at your lips.

Max pulls you close, pressing a kiss to your temple. “Never. I’m rather fond of you, embarrassing sleep talk and all.”

As you stand there in Max’s arms, the morning sun warming your skin and the scent of roses filling the air, you can’t help but feel a sense of hope. Yes, there’s still a lot to figure out — with your family, with Max, with your future. But for the first time in a long time, you feel like you’re exactly where you’re supposed to be.

And that, you think, is the best birthday gift of all.

***

The private terminal of Milan Malpensa Airport buzzes with activity as the Leclerc family waits to board their chartered jet. Charles paces back and forth, his phone clutched tightly in his hand, eyes darting to the entrance every few seconds.

“Charles, honey, please sit down,” his mother, Pascale, says gently. “You’re making me nervous.”

Charles shakes his head, running a hand through his hair for what must be the hundredth time. “I can’t, Maman. Where is she? She should be here by now.”

Lorenzo exchanges a worried glance with Arthur. “Maybe she got held up in traffic?” He suggests, though his tone lacks conviction.

“For three hours?” Charles snaps, immediately regretting his harsh tone. “Sorry, I just ... I’m worried.”

Arthur stands up, placing a comforting hand on Charles’ shoulder. “We all are. But Y/N’s an adult. She can take care of herself.”

Charles lets out a frustrated sigh. “I know that. But after yesterday ... we really messed up.”

“We did,” Pascale agrees softly, her eyes shining with unshed tears. “But we’ll make it right. We just need to talk to her.”

“If she ever shows up,” Charles mutters, resuming his pacing.

The minutes tick by agonizingly slow. Charles alternates between checking his phone and staring out the window, hoping to catch a glimpse of you arriving. But the parking lot remains stubbornly devoid of your presence.

Finally, a staff member approaches the family. “Mr. Leclerc? The jet is ready for boarding. We need to depart soon to maintain our flight slot.”

Charles feels panic rising in his chest. “No, we can’t leave yet. My sister isn’t here.”

The staff member looks uncomfortable. “I understand, sir, but we have a schedule to keep. Perhaps your sister could take a commercial flight?”

“Absolutely not,” Charles says firmly. “We’re not leaving without her.”

Lorenzo steps in, ever the diplomat. “Is there any way we could delay for just a bit longer? It’s really important that we wait for our sister.”

The staff member hesitates, then nods. “I’ll see what I can do. But please understand, we can’t hold the slot indefinitely.”

As the employee walks away, Charles resumes his pacing with renewed vigor.

“This isn’t like her,” he mutters. “She wouldn’t just disappear without telling us.”

Arthur bites his lip, looking guilty. “Maybe ... maybe she’s still upset about yesterday?”

Charles stops in his tracks, turning to face his younger brother. “What do you mean?”

Arthur shifts uncomfortably. “Well, we did forget her birthday. And then when we remembered, we didn’t exactly handle it well. Those roses you sent? Y/N hates roses.”

Charles feels like he’s been punched in the gut. “She ... what? No, she loves roses. I always get her roses.”

“Because you always get her roses,” Lorenzo chimes in, realization dawning on his face. “Not because she actually likes them.”

Charles slumps into a nearby chair, head in his hands. “How did I not know that? What kind of brother am I?”

Pascale moves to sit beside him, wrapping an arm around his shoulders. “We’ve all made mistakes. But we can fix this. We just need to talk to her.”

“If she’ll even talk to us,” Charles mumbles.

Just then, his phone buzzes. Charles nearly drops it in his haste to check the notification, hope flaring in his chest. But it’s not from you.

“It’s Max,” he says, frowning in confusion.

“Verstappen?” Arthur asks, leaning over to peek at the screen. “What does he want?”

Charles opens the message, his eyes widening as he reads it aloud:

“Y/N is with me. She’s safe and we’re flying back to Monaco together. She needs some space right now. Give her time.”

The silence that follows is deafening. Charles reads and rereads the message, trying to process what it means.

“She’s with Max?” Lorenzo finally says, breaking the silence. “Since when are they even friends?”

Charles shakes his head, still staring at his phone. “I don’t know. I ... I saw him last night. He knew where she was, but I thought it was just a spontaneous thing.”

“Well, at least we know she’s safe,” Pascale says, always trying to find the silver lining. “That’s the most important thing.”

But Charles can’t shake the feeling of unease settling in his stomach. “Why didn’t she come to us? Why Max, of all people?”

Arthur places a hand on Charles’ shoulder. “Maybe because he was there when we weren’t,” he says softly.

The words hit Charles like a physical blow. He knows Arthur is right, but it doesn’t make it any easier to hear.

“So what do we do now?” Lorenzo asks, looking around at his family.

Charles takes a deep breath, trying to calm the storm of emotions raging inside him. “We do what Max said. We give her time.”

“But for how long?” Pascale asks, worry evident in her voice. “She’s our little girl. We can’t just leave her alone.”

“She’s not alone, Maman,” Charles says, surprised by the steadiness in his voice. “She’s with Max. And as much as it pains me to admit it, I think ... I think she might be better off with him right now.”

The family falls silent again, each lost in their own thoughts. The weight of their collective mistake hangs heavy in the air.

Finally, Charles stands up, squaring his shoulders. “We should board the jet. There’s nothing more we can do here.”

As they gather their belongings and make their way to the plane, Charles can’t help but replay Max’s message in his head. You’re with Max. You’re safe. You need space.

He tries to imagine you and Max together, and finds that he can’t. What could have happened in the span of one day to bring you two together? And more importantly, what had driven you away from your own family?

As he settles into his seat on the jet, Charles makes a silent promise to himself and to you. He’ll give you the space you need, but he won’t give up. He’ll find a way to make things right, to be the brother you deserve.

The jet takes off, carrying the Leclerc family back to Monaco. But for Charles, it feels like they’re leaving a piece of themselves behind in Milan. A piece that, he fears, might be harder to reclaim than he ever imagined.

Meanwhile, across the airport, you and Max are boarding his private jet. The contrast between the two scenes couldn’t be more stark.

“You okay?” Max asks softly as you settle into your seat.

You nod, offering him a small smile. “Yeah, I think so. Thanks for ... well, everything.”

Max reaches over, giving your hand a gentle squeeze. “Anytime. You know that.”

As the jet prepares for takeoff, you can’t help but think about your family. Are they worried? Angry? Do they even care?

“Max?” You say, your voice barely above a whisper.

“Hmm?”

You turn to look at him, vulnerability shining in your eyes. “Did I do the right thing? Leaving without talking to them?”

Max considers your question carefully before answering. “I think you did what you needed to do for yourself. And that’s never wrong.”

His words settle over you like a warm blanket, easing some of the tension in your shoulders.

“Thank you,” you murmur. “For understanding. For not pushing me to do what everyone else thinks I should do.”

Max smiles, a soft, genuine expression that makes your heart flutter. “That’s what ... friends are for, right?”

There’s a hesitation in his voice, a question in his eyes that makes you wonder if ‘friends’ is really the right word for what’s developing between you.

As the jet takes off, carrying you away from Milan and the chaos of the past day, you find yourself feeling something you haven’t felt in a long time: hope. Hope for a future where you’re seen, heard, and valued for who you are.

And as you glance at Max, his profile illuminated by the setting sun streaming through the window, you can’t help but wonder if he might be a bigger part of that future than you ever imagined.

The jet climbs higher, leaving the ground and all its complications behind. For now, at least, you’re free. Free to breathe, to think, to feel without the weight of expectations pressing down on you.

You close your eyes, letting out a long breath. Whatever comes next, you know one thing for certain: things will never be the same again. And maybe, just maybe, that’s exactly what you need.

***

The sun is setting over Monaco, shining warmly through the floor-to-ceiling windows of Max’s penthouse apartment. You’re curled up on the plush sofa, a book in your lap, trying to lose yourself in the pages. But your mind keeps wandering, replaying the events of the past couple of days.

Max emerges from the kitchen, two steaming mugs in hand. “Thought you might need this,” he says, offering you one.

You smile gratefully, inhaling the rich aroma of hot chocolate. “Thanks. You didn’t have to.”

He shrugs, settling down beside you. “I wanted to. How’re you holding up?”

You’re about to answer when the doorbell rings. Max frowns, glancing at his watch. “I’m not expecting anyone. Are you?”

You shake your head, a knot of anxiety forming in your stomach. Could it be your family? Are they here to confront you?

Max squeezes your hand reassuringly before getting up to answer the door. You hear muffled voices, then the sound of something heavy being dragged across the floor.

“Um, Y/N?” Max calls. “I think you might want to see this.”

Curiosity overcoming your apprehension, you make your way to the foyer. Your jaw drops at the sight that greets you.

The entire space is filled with bags. Not just any bags, but the kind that comes from the most exclusive boutiques in Monaco. Gucci, Prada, Louis Vuitton, Chanel — the logos stare back at you from every direction.

“What ... what is all this?” You stammer, looking to Max for explanation.

He hands you a small envelope. “This came with it. It’s addressed to you.”

With trembling fingers, you open the envelope and unfold the note inside. You’d recognize that handwriting anywhere.

Y/N,

I know I messed up. We all did. I’m so sorry for forgetting your birthday and for not being the brother you deserve. I hope these gifts can begin to make up for it. Please come home. We miss you.

Love,

Charles

You read the note twice, then a third time, disbelief turning to anger with each pass.

“He’s got to be kidding,” you mutter, crumpling the paper in your fist.

Max steps closer, concern etched on his face. “What is it? What’s wrong?”

You let out a bitter laugh. “This,” you say, gesturing at the sea of designer bags, “is my brother’s idea of an apology. He thinks he can just ... buy me back with expensive gifts.”

Understanding dawns on Max’s face. “Ah. And I’m guessing that’s not going to work?”

“Not even close,” you say, shaking your head. “God, it’s like he doesn’t know me at all. I’m not one of his girlfriends who can be placated with a shopping spree.”

Max winces. “Ouch. Has he done this before?”

You nod, sinking down onto the nearest clear spot on the floor. “Every time he messes up with a girl, it’s the same routine. Flowers, jewelry, designer clothes. And it usually works, because the girls he dates ... well, they tend to be into that kind of thing.”

Max sits down beside you, his shoulder brushing against yours. “But you’re not.”

“No,” you confirm. “I mean, don’t get me wrong, I appreciate nice things. But that’s not what this is about. It’s about him actually listening to me, actually seeing me as a person and not just ... his kid sister who can be bought off.”

Max is quiet for a moment, then says softly, “You know, it’s okay to be angry about this. You don’t have to pretend it doesn’t hurt.”

His words break something open inside you. Tears well up in your eyes, spilling over before you can stop them. “I just ... I thought he knew me better than this. I thought they all did.”

Max wraps an arm around your shoulders, pulling you close. You lean into him, letting the tears fall freely now.

“It’s like they don’t even see me,” you choke out between sobs. “They see this idea of who they think I should be, but not ... not who I actually am.”

Max rubs soothing circles on your back, letting you cry it out. When your sobs finally subside, he hands you a tissue.

“Feel better?” He asks gently.

You nod, wiping your eyes. “A little. Sorry for breaking down on you like that.”

Max shakes his head firmly. “Don’t apologize. That’s what I’m here for.”

You offer him a watery smile, then turn back to survey the mountain of bags. “So ... what do I do with all this?”

Max considers for a moment. “Well, what do you want to do?”

You bite your lip, thinking. “Honestly? I want to send it all back. Show him that he can’t just throw money at the problem and expect it to go away.”

Max nods approvingly. “I think that’s a great idea. It sends a clear message.”

“You don’t think it’s too harsh?” You ask, a hint of uncertainty creeping into your voice.

“Not at all,” Max assures you. “You’re standing up for yourself, setting boundaries. That’s important.”

Emboldened by his support, you start rifling through the bags, curiosity getting the better of you. “I wonder what he even bought ... oh.”

You pull out a small velvet box, opening it to reveal a delicate tennis bracelet. The diamonds catch the light, sparkling brilliantly.

“Wow,” Max breathes, leaning in for a closer look. “That’s ... that’s something.”

You nod, mesmerized by the way the bracelet shimmers. “It’s beautiful,” you admit softly.

Max watches you carefully. “You like it,” he observes.

You sigh, closing the box with a snap. “It doesn’t matter. It’s going back with everything else.”

“Why?” Max asks, genuine curiosity in his voice. “If you like it, why not keep it?”

You look at him, surprised. “But ... I thought you said sending it all back was a good idea?”

Max shrugs. “It is. But that doesn’t mean you can’t keep one thing if it genuinely makes you happy. You’re allowed to like nice things, Y/N. That doesn’t invalidate your feelings about the situation.”

You turn the box over in your hands, considering. “I don’t know ... wouldn’t keeping anything send the wrong message?”

“I think,” Max says slowly, “that the message you send depends more on what you say than what you keep or don’t keep. If you like the bracelet, keep it. But make sure Charles understands that a pretty piece of jewelry doesn’t fix the underlying issues.”

You nod, his words resonating with you. “You’re right. I’ll keep the bracelet ... but everything else goes back.”

As you start sorting through the bags, separating out what will be returned, you can’t help but laugh.

“What’s so funny?” Max asks, a smile tugging at his lips.

You hold up the bracelet box. “I was just thinking ... it would be a shame to let something this pretty go to waste, right?”

Max chuckles, shaking his head. “Absolutely. It’s practically your duty to keep it. For the sake of the bracelet, of course.”

“Of course,” you agree, giggling. “I’m being completely selfless here.”

As you continue to sort through the gifts, occasionally showing Max particularly outrageous items (“A fur coat? In Monaco?”), you feel a weight lifting from your shoulders. For the first time since this whole ordeal began, you feel like you’re taking control of the situation.

“You know,” you say, folding a designer dress back into its bag, “I think I need to have a real conversation with Charles. With all of them, really.”

Max nods encouragingly. “I think that’s a great idea. What do you want to say?”

You take a deep breath, organizing your thoughts. “I want them to understand that I’m my own person, with my own dreams and desires. That I need them to see me, really see me, not just as Charles Leclerc’s little sister or as an extension of the family name.”

“That sounds perfect,” Max says softly. “You deserve to be seen for who you are.”

You smile at him, a rush of warmth flooding your chest. “Thank you. For everything. I don’t know how I would have gotten through this without you.”

Max reaches out, taking your hand in his. “You’re stronger than you give yourself credit for. But I’m glad I could help.”

As you sit there, surrounded by discarded luxury goods, your hand in Max’s, you feel a sense of peace settling over you. You know the road ahead won’t be easy — confronting your family, establishing new boundaries, figuring out exactly where you stand with Max — but for the first time in a long time, you feel ready to face it all.

You slip on the tennis bracelet, admiring the way it catches the light. It’s beautiful, yes, but it’s also a reminder. A reminder that you’re worth more than grand gestures and expensive gifts. You’re worth being truly seen, truly heard, truly understood.

And as you look at Max, his blue eyes warm with understanding and something that might be more, you think that maybe, just maybe, you’ve found someone who sees you for exactly who you are.

***

The afternoon sun beats down on the streets of Monaco as Charles leans against his Ferrari, fidgeting nervously. He’s parked across from the International University of Monaco, his eyes fixed on the entrance. Students stream in and out, but none of them are the one he’s looking for.

He checks his watch for what must be the hundredth time. Your last class should be ending any minute now. Charles takes a deep breath, trying to calm his racing heart. He’s rehearsed what he wants to say a thousand times, but now that the moment is approaching, all his carefully prepared words seem to evaporate.

A group of students emerges from the building, laughing and chatting. Charles straightens up, his eyes scanning the crowd. And then he sees you.

You’re walking with a couple of friends, your bag slung over your shoulder, a smile on your face. For a moment, Charles is struck by how ... normal you look. How at ease. It’s a stark contrast to the tense family dinners and stilted conversations of recent months.

Before he can second-guess himself, Charles pushes off from his car and starts walking towards you. He sees the exact moment you spot him — your smile falters, your steps slow.

“Y/N!” He calls out, waving awkwardly.

Your friends notice him too, their eyes widening in recognition. You say something to them that Charles can’t hear, and they nod, casting curious glances between you and your brother as they walk away.

Charles reaches you, stopping a few feet away, suddenly unsure of himself. “Hey,” he says softly.

“Charles,” you reply, your voice carefully neutral. “What are you doing here?”

He runs a hand through his hair, a nervous habit he’s never been able to shake. “I ... I wanted to talk to you. In person. You haven’t been answering my calls or texts, and I just ... I needed to see you.”

You sigh, adjusting the strap of your bag. “I’ve been busy with classes. And I needed some space.”

“I know,” Charles says quickly. “I know, and I’m sorry for ambushing you like this. I just ... can we talk? Please?”

You glance around, noticing the curious stares from passing students. “Not here,” you say finally. “There’s a café around the corner. We can talk there.”

Charles nods eagerly, relief washing over him. “Yes, of course. Whatever you want.”

You lead the way to the café, a small, cozy place tucked away from the main streets. As you settle into a booth in the back, Charles can’t help but wonder how often you come here, how many parts of your life he knows nothing about.

A waitress approaches, and you order your usual — an iced latte with an extra shot. Charles fumbles with the menu before ordering a simple espresso.

An awkward silence falls over the table as you wait for your drinks. Charles fidgets with a napkin, trying to find the right words to begin.

“So,” you say finally, your tone clipped. “You wanted to talk. Talk.”

Charles takes a deep breath. “I’m sorry,” he blurts out. “I’m so, so sorry, Y/N. For forgetting your birthday, for not being there for you, for ... for everything.”

You raise an eyebrow, your expression unreadable. “Is that it?”

Charles blinks, thrown off balance. “I ... what do you mean?”

“I mean,” you say, leaning forward slightly, “is that all you have to say? You’re sorry?”

Charles feels a flash of frustration. “What else do you want me to say? I messed up, I know that. I’m trying to make it right.”

The waitress returns with your drinks, and you take a long sip of your latte before responding. “Charles, this isn’t just about my birthday. This is about years of feeling invisible, of being overshadowed, of not being seen for who I am.”

Charles feels like he’s been punched in the gut. “What? Y/N, I ... I had no idea you felt that way.”

You let out a bitter laugh. “That’s kind of the point, Charles. You didn’t know because you never asked. None of you did.”

Charles sits back, his mind reeling. “I ... I don’t understand. We’ve always been close. At least, I thought we were.”

“We were,” you agree softly. “When we were kids. But as you got more and more successful, it was like ... like I faded into the background. Everything became about you, about your career.”

Charles feels tears pricking at his eyes. “Y/N, I never meant for that to happen. I love you. You’re my little sister.”

“I know you love me,” you say, your voice gentler now. “But loving someone and seeing them are two different things.”

Charles nods slowly, realization dawning. “The gifts,” he says. “That’s why you sent them back. Because I was trying to fix things without actually understanding what was wrong.”

“Exactly,” you confirm. “Charles, I don’t need expensive clothes or jewelry. I need my brother. The one who used to listen to me ramble about constellations for hours, who’d sneak me extra dessert when Maman wasn’t looking.”

Charles reaches across the table, hesitating for a moment before taking your hand. To his relief, you don’t pull away. “I want to be that brother again,” he says earnestly. “Tell me how. Please.”

You take a deep breath, considering. “Well, for starters, you could ask me about my life. My studies, my friends, my dreams. And actually listen to the answers.”

Charles nods eagerly. “Yes, of course. Tell me everything. What are you studying? How are your classes going?”

A small smile tugs at your lips. “I’m majoring in Astrophysics, remember? This semester I’m taking a course on Stellar Evolution that’s absolutely fascinating. We’re learning about the life cycles of stars, from their formation to their eventual death.”

As you continue talking, passion lighting up your eyes, Charles feels a mix of pride and shame wash over him. Pride in your intelligence and enthusiasm, shame that he’s missed out on so much of your life.

“That sounds incredible,” he says when you pause for breath. “I had no idea you were studying something so complex. You must be really good at it.”

You shrug, a hint of your old shyness creeping in. “I do okay. It’s challenging, but I love it.”

“I’m sure you do more than okay,” Charles insists. “You’ve always been the smartest one in the family.”

You laugh softly. “I don’t know about that. But ... thanks, Charles. It means a lot to hear you say that.”

Charles squeezes your hand. “I mean it. And I want to hear more. About your classes, your friends, everything. I’ve missed so much, and I want to make up for it.”

You nod, a cautious hope in your eyes. “I’d like that. But Charles, it can’t just be today. This has to be a continuous thing. I need to know that you’re genuinely interested in my life, not just when you’re trying to make amends.”

“Absolutely,” Charles agrees immediately. “What if we set up a regular call? Once a week, we can catch up properly. No distractions, no racing talk unless you want to. Just us.”

A genuine smile spreads across your face. “I’d really like that.”

Charles feels a weight lifting from his shoulders. It’s not fixed, not completely, but it’s a start. “There’s something else,” he says, suddenly remembering. “Max ... are you and Max ...”

You blush slightly, looking down at your latte. “We’re ... figuring things out. He’s been really supportive through all of this.”

Charles nods, pushing down the instinctive surge of protectiveness. “He’s a good guy. If he makes you happy, then I’m happy for you.”

You look up, surprise evident in your eyes. “Really? You’re not going to go all overprotective big brother on me?”

Charles chuckles. “Oh, I’m sure I’ll have my moments. But Y/N, you’re an adult. You can make your own choices. I trust you.”

Tears well up in your eyes. “Thank you. That ... that means more than you know.”

As you both finish your drinks, the conversation flows more easily. Charles asks about your friends, your hobbies outside of studying. You tell him about the astronomy club you’ve joined, the research project you’re hoping to get involved with next semester.

When it’s time to leave, Charles stands up, hesitating for a moment before opening his arms. “Can I ...”

You nod, stepping into his embrace. Charles holds you tight, realizing how long it’s been since he’s really hugged you like this.

“I love you, little sister,” he murmurs into your hair. “And I promise, I’m going to do better.”

You squeeze him back. “I love you too, big brother. And ... I’m willing to give you the chance to prove it.”

As you part ways outside the café, Charles heading back to his car and you towards your apartment, there’s a lightness in the air that wasn’t there before. It’s not perfect, not yet. There are still conversations to be had, bridges to be rebuilt. But for the first time in a long time, there’s hope.

Charles watches you walk away, a mix of emotions swirling in his chest. Pride in the amazing person you’ve become, regret for the time he’s missed, determination to be the brother you deserve.

He pulls out his phone, creating a new reminder: Call Y/N — every Sunday, 7 PM.

It’s a small step, but it’s a start. And as he drives home, Charles finds himself looking forward to getting to know his little sister all over again.

***

The auditorium of the International University of Monaco buzzes with excitement as proud families and friends gather to celebrate the graduating class. In the front row, an unusually high-profile group draws curious glances and whispered conversations.

Charles fidgets in his seat, craning his neck to scan the sea of graduates. “Do you see her?” He asks, nudging his older brother.

Lorenzo chuckles, placing a calming hand on Charles’ shoulder. “Relax. She’ll be here. Alphabetical order, remember?”

On Charles’ other side, Arthur rolls his eyes fondly. “You’d think he was the one graduating, the way he’s acting.”

“Can you blame him?” Max chimes in from the end of the row, a warm smile on his face. “It’s a big day.”

Pascale, seated between Lorenzo and Arthur, dabs at her eyes with a tissue. “My baby girl, graduating university. I can hardly believe it.”

Max reaches across to pat her hand. “She’s amazing, Pascale. You should be very proud.”

Charles turns to Max, a mischievous glint in his eye. “Look at you, all calm and collected. I remember when you were a nervous wreck asking her out for the first time.”

Max blushes slightly, but grins. “Hey, your sister is intimidating. All that brainpower.”

“Shh!” Arthur hisses suddenly. “I think it’s starting!”

The auditorium falls silent as the ceremony begins. The family watches with rapt attention as the graduates file in, searching for that familiar face among the sea of caps and gowns.

And then, there you are. Your eyes scan the crowd until they land on your family, a bright smile spreading across your face as you wave discreetly.

“There she is!” Charles whisper-shouts, practically bouncing in his seat.

Lorenzo chuckles. “We see her. Try to contain yourself, yeah?”

The ceremony progresses, with speeches from the valedictorian and various dignitaries. Charles fidgets impatiently, earning amused glances from his family and Max.

Finally, the moment arrives. “Y/N Leclerc,” the announcer calls.

Charles jumps to his feet, letting out a whoop that echoes through the auditorium. “That’s my sister!” He shouts, drawing startled looks from nearby attendees.

Lorenzo and Arthur quickly join in, their cheers mixing with Charles’. Max and Pascale stand too, clapping enthusiastically.

You walk across the stage, accepting your diploma with a graceful nod. As you turn to face the audience, your eyes lock with your family’s, and your composed expression breaks into a radiant smile.

Charles, caught up in the moment, continues cheering even after you’ve left the stage. “That’s right! Astrophysicist in the house! Watch out, universe!”

Max, noticing the irritated glances from other families, reaches over and claps a hand over Charles’ mouth. “Okay, Charlie, I think she heard you,” he says, laughter in his voice.

Max feels something wet against his palm and jerks his hand away.

“Ugh, gross!” Max yelps, wiping it on his pants. “What are you, five?”

Charles grins unrepentantly. “You started it.”

Pascale sighs, shaking her head. “Boys, please. This is Y/N’s big day. Try to act like adults.”

“Sorry, Maman,” Charles mumbles, properly chastised.

As the ceremony concludes, the family makes their way outside, eagerly scanning the crowd for you.

“There!” Arthur calls out, pointing.

You’re making your way towards them, diploma in hand, your face glowing with happiness. Max reaches you first, sweeping you into a tight hug.

“Congratulations, liefje,” he murmurs, pressing a kiss to your temple. “I’m so proud of you.”

You beam up at him, about to respond when Charles practically tackles you both.

“My sister, the genius!” He crows, lifting you off your feet and spinning you around. “I always knew you’d take over the world someday.”

You laugh, hugging him back just as fiercely. “Put me down, you goof! You’re making a scene.”

“Let him have his moment,” Lorenzo says, stepping in for his own hug once Charles releases you. “It’s not every day your little sister graduates top of her class in Astrophysics.”

Arthur’s turn comes next, his hug gentler but no less heartfelt. “Congrats. You’ve officially made the rest of us look like underachievers.”

Finally, you turn to your mother, who’s openly crying now. “Oh, my darling,” she says, cupping your face in her hands. “I’m so, so proud of you.”

You feel tears welling up in your own eyes as you embrace her. “Thanks, Maman. For everything.”

As you pull back, wiping at your eyes, Charles slings an arm around your shoulders. “So, what’s next? Going to discover a new planet? Name a star after your favorite man?”

You roll your eyes fondly. “First of all, I still have to get through graduate school. And second, bold of you to assume you’re my favorite.”

“Ouch,” Charles clutches his chest in mock pain. “After all we’ve been through?”

Max chuckles, wrapping an arm around your waist. “Face it, Leclerc. I’ve got you beat in the favorite department.”

Charles narrows his eyes playfully. “Is that a challenge, Verstappen?”

“Boys, boys,” you interject, laughing. “There’s plenty of me to go around. Now, how about we get out of here? I’m starving, and I believe someone promised me a celebration dinner.”

“Ah, yes!” Pascale says, clapping her hands together. “I’ve made reservations at La Maree. Your favorite, chérie.”

As the family starts to move towards the parking lot, Max hangs back, tugging gently on your hand. “Hold on a sec,” he says softly. “I want to give you something.”

Curious, you turn to face him. Max reaches into his pocket, pulling out a small velvet box.

Your eyes widen. “Max ...”

He opens the box, revealing a delicate necklace. A small white gold star pendant hangs from the chain, a tiny diamond twinkling at its center.

“I know it’s not much compared to your usual study subjects,” Max says, a hint of nervousness in his voice. “But I thought ... well, you’re my star, Y/N. My brilliant, beautiful star.”

Tears well up in your eyes again as Max fastens the necklace around your neck. “It’s perfect,” you whisper. “I love it. I love you.”

Max’s face breaks into a radiant smile. “I love you too,” he says, before leaning in to capture your lips in a tender kiss.

You melt into the kiss, wrapping your arms around his neck as his hands settle on your waist. For a moment, the world fades away, and it’s just the two of you.

The spell is broken by an exaggerated gagging sound. You break apart to see Charles pretending to retch, while Lorenzo and Arthur laugh.

You break apart, laughing. “Real mature, Charles,” you call back.

Charles grins, unrepentant. “Hey, someone’s got to keep an eye on you crazy kids.”

Max rolls his eyes good-naturedly. “Your brother, the chaperone,” he mutters.

You giggle, taking Max’s hand as you rejoin your family. “Don’t worry,” you whisper conspiratorially. “We’ll ditch him at the restaurant.”

As you all pile into the waiting cars, the air buzzing with excitement and plans for the evening, you can’t help but feel overwhelmed with happiness. A year ago, you never would have imagined this scene — your family truly seeing and celebrating you, a wonderful man by your side who loves and supports you, and a bright future ahead in a field you’re passionate about.

The cars pull away from the university, carrying you towards your celebration dinner. As you watch the familiar streets of Monaco roll by, you find yourself filled with an incredible sense of anticipation. This isn’t just the end of your university journey — it’s the beginning of something new and exciting.

You glance around the car — at Charles and Arthur bickering good-naturedly in the back seat, at your mother chatting happily with Lorenzo who’s driving, and finally at Max beside you, his hand warm in yours. Your family, in all its chaotic, loving glory.

“Hey,” Max says softly, noticing your pensive expression. “You okay?”

You smile, squeezing his hand. “More than okay. I’m perfect.”

And as the car winds its way through the streets of Monaco, towards a future bright with possibility, you know that it’s true. You’re exactly where you’re meant to be, surrounded by love, with the stars stretching out endlessly before you.

[espinosaurusrexex]

A degree? Who needs that anyway?

Boyfriend!Bucky x Female!Reader

summary: Bucky noticed you were exhausted during this time of the semester. Being the supportive golden retriever boyfriend he was, he just wanted to make you feel better. Unfortunately, his efforts only showed him how stressed you really were. So he vowed to support you through it all.

a/n: I have finally finished all my work and am back in business, baby! I'm so excited to spend the cozy season writing and posting again. Thank you for being so patient and supporting. I am so unbelievably grateful for this community. This is for all the academic girlies struggling through exam season like I do...

word count: 1.9k

warnings: feelings stress and not being enough, perfectionsim (and the pressure that comes with it), projecting self worth onto academic achievements, Bucky being adorable and supportive (perfect boyfriend alert!), just a whole lotta fluff 

･ﾟ✫* 𝒎𝒂𝒊𝒏 𝒎𝒂𝒔𝒕𝒆𝒓𝒍𝒊𝒔𝒕 ｡✭･ﾟ✶ 𝒄.𝒂𝒊 ✧*･ﾟ

You were stressed. Bucky knew it. Everyone was walking on eggshells around you, if - ever - you allowed yourself to step out of the apartment to see your friends or work your part-time job. He'd never seen you like this. You were a social butterfly, the total opposite of him with the ability to recharge when you were around the people you loved most. But for a month or so you'd been living the hermit life. And Bucky did not like it one bit. 

It gave him an uneasy feeling, a squeeze to his heart, a hatred for anything that could potentially set you off. Because it was there - the potential. He was just waiting for it. For the shoe to drop, for you to break. For him to go on a rampage against all things bothering you. 

He knew you were strong and stubborn, and that you hated to ask people for help. But there was only so much a person could endure. Hell, Bucky knew too well himself. Because he was the same. He hated asking for help - he hated accepting that he was bad at something. But this...  just broke his heart. 

He tried to take you out, to get you to eat with him - anything to get you back to your normal routines. But not even when he mentioned your favorite pastime activity did he get an enthusiastic smile out of you. That’s when he knew something was seriously wrong. Well, not something. He knew it was University. You’d complained about your professors at the beginning of the semester to him, how they were too ambitious for their own good and required a mountain of weekly readings not even that guy from Transformers could manage. Now... towards the end of the term, he saw how that ambition bled into your papers and final exams. 

And Bucky? Well, he didn’t know how to act around you. It seemed like a silly selfish problem but normally you would be the one seeking contact and physical touch. He enjoyed it every time but he was just not good at initiating it himself. You’d seemed to shut him out completely. Working yourself away on your desk only to fall asleep on it and have Bucky carry you to bed. He hated seeing you like this. 

He knew it wasn’t a permanent state - it couldn’t be. Because even though he considered you the strongest person he knew, there had to be a point at which even you broke. 

And then, one day, it just happened. Without warning. Bucky hadn’t wanted to be right, so he had just ignored the thought of your breaking beneath all the pressure completely. And that was why he did not have as much as a hunch when you were talking over breakfast and the dam broke.

You had been up since well before Bucky had finally convinced you to eat with him. He’d even gone to your favorite bakery this morning to get the little pudding pastries you loved so much. And when he came back, he silently pulled your chair back and dropped you at the dining table. Everything seemed pretty good for a while. And then, out of nowhere, while Bucky was telling you about his trip to the Bakery, you had just started crying - hard.

Bucky had never seen so many tears. Not even when the wives of his fellow soldiers stood at the peer waving his comrades goodbye with white handkerchiefs. He shook the memory away. He thought the amount of tears quite impossible with the neglect of drinking water he had witnessed over the past week but they just kept coming. And Bucky wanted to hold you but something told him it wouldn't help one bit. 

You were sobbing into your hands drawing in shaky breaths as you hid your face from him and everything inside him began to scream. Scream at him for sitting there frozen like an idiot and screaming at all the professors who deserved nothing more than a good punch in their oh so intelligent faces. 

"It's just all too much. I’m so exhausted, Bucky.” A trembling breath that was muffled by your hands pressing into your mouth. Bucky was raging, but he let you continue. “And I hate that... I hate that I let this consume so much of my time and ...me. I hate that I let it affect me so much when I’m at the point at which I don't even know if it's worth it anymore.”

Bucky drew in a sharp breath at that statement. You had been working so hard, dedicated so much time and effort to work toward a goal he wanted you to achieve as much as you wanted to initially. To hear you doubt yourself broke his heart into a million pieces. He knew you were capable of it, but something told him not to say that just now. It was then you finally lifted your face and let your reddened eyes search for his. His fingers itched to touch your face. Why didn’t he do so?

“And it doesn’t help that everyone believes in me you know?” He nodded, though he didn’t quite understand. “I love each of my friends but every person that tells me they believe in me and how they don’t even doubt I’ll make it adds more pressure on top of the standard I set for myself.”

This was it. This was the moment he needed to touch you. Bucky rose from his chair and knelt down beside yours. His warm hand reached up toward your face and you immediately fell into his embrace. Your forehead pressed into his muscular shoulder, your arms reached around him and his entire body felt tingly as relief flooded through it. 

"I am so scared I'm going to fail.” You exhaled into his shirt as his hand gently stroked your back. He wanted to tell you how failing wasn’t bad. How much he would love you regardless and how stupid a dumb degree was anyway. He wanted to kiss you and whisper against your skin how you could excel at everything you tried by simply being yourself because, for Bucky, you were the epitome of perfection. 

But he didn’t do any of it. Because he also knew how important this was for you. Even if you were questioning if anything was worth it at this point - it definitely wasn’t in his eyes if it meant seeing you so crushed by something as trivial as a file on your computer - Bucky knew he’d help you walk through a hurricane if that was what you needed from him. Hell, he’d gladly do so if it would bring your beautiful smile back to your face. This degree felt really close to what he imagined walking through a hurricane to be like right about now. And he thought that he would never want one himself if this was what you had to go through in order to get it. Besides, who needed a degree anyway? Back in his day, you weren’t more special for it. Being a soldier did the job just fine... then again, that was probably worse than the hurricane thing. Focus Bucky. 

Bucky pulled back and kissed your tears off your face and then he pressed one more kiss to your salty lips for good measure. Yes, he’d do anything for you - degree or not.

“What can I do to help you, love? I hate seeing you like this.” He froze for a second in fear of adding more pressure by expressing his sadness. And surely, you just started crying harder as your face fell forward again. Oh no, Bucky thought. 

“I-“ you hick-uped, “I don’t know.” Seriously where did you get all that water from? “I love you so much. And I appreciate you so much and I know you want to comfort me but if we were to cuddle for an hour I would just stress myself out about the time I could spend studying - even if all I wanna do is cuddle you.” The stream didn’t stop when you cried harder. “And I hate that!”

Bucky nodded frustrated. "I love you too.” And then he cradled your head with his metal hand.

For a good minute, you just stayed like this. Bucky pressed you deeper into his chest until your sobs slowly died down and your stuffy breathing became steadier. He kissed your hair just to stroke over it again and then kiss it once more. For the first time in weeks, he felt like he did something that relaxed you a little. And even though you had just cried a river in your kitchen, you were so much calmer than before. 

You sniffled adorably when you looked up at him after some time. “Just know I know how difficult I am right now. I cannot wait for this to be over. It’s just... I don’t even know how to take care of myself right now, I can’t possibly know how to include you in this as well.” A final tear fell and Bucky was fast to wipe it away. “But I am so glad you’re here.”

“Okay, I understand.” He answered and hugged you again, vowing to initiate daily cuddle/relief breaks from here on out. There wasn’t much he could do, he knew that and hated it too. If he could, he would write your papers for you, but Bucky was convinced he was not nearly smart enough for that, so anything else had to make do. He’d keep the apartment clean so you had a good atmosphere to learn, he’d make sure you slept and ate on time, and he’d supply all the love you deserved regardless of exam season. “And you just know that I will be here for you, patiently waiting until you have the capacity to include me again.” He pushed your hair from your forehead and kissed you sweetly. “I will support you in everything you do...” Another kiss, this one, you reciprocated. “Always.” And another long, warm lasting kiss to seal his promise. “If you promise me one thing... one thing only,” he whispered.

“What is it?” You whispered back. 

“Promise to let me take care of you. I know you would spend 25 hours in a day studying if it were possible, but you can't keep it up like this.” He nodded. “Let me make sure you have the headspace for all your studying. Don’t deny my bringing you food, or dragging you to bed. And collect at least three kisses and one hug every day for emotional support,” he smiled faintly, a cheeky glimmer in his eyes that shone in yours as well. 

“Okay, I promise.”

Bucky kissed you again, pressing your body against his with gentle strength. His heart began to beat faster when he felt your nails rake down his shoulders. 

From then on Bucky would come up to you and hug you for a couple seconds, calling it ‘quick recharge’. He would hold you when you cried - but only when you cried because you needed to spend your dedicated hours of studying- holding you was for later.  And then he would remind you to drink enough water after watching your tears soak into his shirt. But what he looked forward to the most, were the evenings when you would cuddle into his side in bed and let him lull you to sleep. He felt accomplished as he watched you relax outside the study schedule you set up with him, being able to fully be present when you ate together or went to bed. There were still rough times, but Bucky was there to hold you regardless, smiling at the fact that his touch could calm you down and that it would be over soon - and then he’d spend entire days making up for everything that fell short because of that viscous degree.

please take care of yourself, just like Bucky would during an exhausting time like this 💛

Wanna be added to the taglist?

@almosttoopizza @sociallyimpairedme @royalwritersoftheuniverses @i-l-y-3000 @mrsgweasley @prettylittlepluviophile @dinwifey @stuckysgirl27 7 @wintermischief @supersecretblogformytreasures @broadwaybabe18 @fridayiaminlove @buckybarnessimpp @goodkittyspost @justafangir1 @simpxinnie @bisexual-buckyfan @blackhawkfanatic @augustbucky @kandis-mom @harleycao @ashhsage @hhiggs @scott-loki-barnes @gabshouse @i-spy-1812 @barnes1031 @am-3-thyst @awkotaco24 @star-buck-barnes @armystay89 @missaprilt23 @rexit-mo @mishkatelwarriorgoddess @winchestert101 @circe143 @valkyrie418 @mirikusashes @noideawhyimdoingthislol @nikkitc0703 @lethallyprotected @erynnnn @misshale21 @wattpaduser200 @buckyseddie @adoreyouusugar @km-ffluv @mcu21lover19 @pigeonmama @wilsons-striped-ties @caplanbuckybarnes @rosecentury @somnorvos @looking1016 @beansprout713

[burningcheese-merchant]

Psst, hear me out: The Beast being fucking yanderes with the ancients.

You Get It™️ I mean... Did you guys see episode 6? Burning Simp Cookie is already a yandere lol. He's been there and he refuses to leave. And Shadow Milk is honestly not that far behind, he feels some type of way towards Pure Vanilla and it would be cute if it wasn't so sad and creepy lol

Really though, I just love hero/villain ships in general (always have, since long before Cookie Run ever existed) and I get a kick out of villains acting stupid over crushes (read: obsessions), and acting stupid in general. There's just something about a villain being in love with the hero to a psychotic, comical degree, and the hero rebuffing them at every turn that's just really amusing to me lol. Like what Joker sort of has with Batman, you know?

Here are my Yandere Beasts in bare-bones terms:

Burning Spice: come on, if you've read my stuff, you know EXACTLY what Yandere Spice is like lol. If not, I'll refer you to this and this, as well as my fics on AO3. If those don't tell you what Yandere Spice is like then idk how else to help you lol

Shadow Milk: if the final boss of theater/drama kids had a crush but was also a malignant narcissist of some sort lol. Absolutely DESPERATE for Vanilla's attention at all times. If he's not actively trying to worm into Vanilla's brain and harass him in his thoughts and dreams, he's in the real world brainstorming better ways to do that lol. He does not grasp why the creepy puppet shows and gaslighting attempts aren't convincing Vanilla to fall in love with him. Will attack and torment and insult Vani in one breath and then praise and love and worship him in another, because he's a histrionic clown freak with whirlwind emotions. But above all else, he literally thinks he owns Vani and is meticulously plotting the horrible and hilarious demise of any and all he perceives as a threat to their union

Eternal Sugar: World's Laziest Stalker™️. Almost exclusively haunts Holly in her dreams (I have to assume that that's what her power will entail, as the Beast of Sloth); however, she's more "effective" in her wooing attempts due to her past experience as the Herald of Happiness. She actually goes out of her way to construct dreams and the like that have things in them that make Holly happy (or what she thinks makes Holly happy; she, as well as the others, has big tunnel vision and is very selfish and self-absorbed, and thus pays more lip service to her own wants than those of who she loves/obsesses over). Thankfully doesn't run into Holly in person often because that's work... but sometimes she DOES work up the nerve to go after her for real, and... well

Mystic Flour: Denial, denial, denial. Not just a river in Egypt the Golden Cheese Kingdom, but she'll say and act like otherwise. No, she does not like Dark Cacao. He robbed her of her volition and the chance to enact her will. He prevented her from freeing the world from pain and suffering. He is a stubborn fool who refuses to understand the truth. He... is very handsome. She does not like how handsome he is. It is distracting. She doesn't like dwelling on her memories of him and their encounters. She doesn't like how she came to harbor a single kernel of respect in her heart after he stood his ground against her; a kernel that she inadvertently nurtured and cultivated slowly but surely, until... no. No, she doesn't like Dark Cacao. She doesn't think about him all day. She doesn't want to try to lure him back to her land so she can trap him in the flour fog with her again. She doesn't miss feeling his dark eyes on her. She doesn't deeply resent his attachment to his people, and seek to transfer that attachment to her instead. No, she... damn it, he's ruined her. He's made her feel things again. He's made her succumb to selfishness and greed, to earthly desire and attachment - desire for HIM, attachment to HIM. All of her hard work and enlightenment gone to waste... She doesn't want to like Dark Cacao, she recognizes the folly in such a thing, but she's stuck - and so stuck is she that not only does she not really see a way out, she doesn't WANT one. She's become too content with her attachment to him too quickly. Now she has to agonize over her own foolishness, and try to keep denying that she doesn't care while also longing for his attention and wanting to do away with all that steals his attention away from her

Silent Salt: probably the least awful of the five, but he's still creepy and that's not a high bar to clear anyway lol. Has a better grasp on "normal" behavior than the others (like... he pays attention to what White Lily likes/wants and tries to adjust accordingly), but he's following her around everywhere and acting extremely violent and territorial over her towards anyone who he catches approaching her. He's legitimately, surprisingly sweet and gentle towards her; he brings her flowers, he listens to her when she asks/tells him something, he's more or less respectful of her personal space (he will try to be as physically close to her as possible, but actually backs off a little if she asks him to, only to try again, and so on and so forth)... but he's still a villain, he's still violent and creepy, he still gets angry when she pays attention to other people for too long and he has brought actual harm to others out of jealousy. He's the best of the worst but that really doesn't mean much of anything, he's still a psycho creep like the others

In short, they form a tight-knit coalition of absolutely fucking deranged freakazoids and they should all probably die :)

[matrixbearer2024]

I know I've already mentioned my take on this. I have a post here with my own personal take on the Stan Twins' dynamic as someone with a similar kind of push and pull with their sibling but it generally disappoints me to see people doing this. It's happened to a lot of the nuanced characters I like.

I don't want this to be me excusing Ford's actions, I'm not. Like him, I did some really shitty things as well to friends and my younger brother in the pursuit of academic excellence and achievement. The need to prove myself even when I didn't and still don't know to who or why.

There's so many driving factors to a lot of things, so to condense it all and say: "Oh they're a bad person!" It's the most ignorant thing you can say. Like judging a book by it's cover without even peering a glimpse inside.

I'm all for poking fun and bullying Ford, hell- my time lord twins AU makes it a point to have him suffer, but my god don't just say he's a bad person and be done with it. Sure, he's selfish, he's arrogant, sometimes he's even irritatingly immature, but he's trying to change.

The first step often to getting better is already realizing that something needs to change. He's headed in the right direction and truth be told, with the way the show was written and ended it seems like he'll keep marching down that right direction.

I lied. Put your clothes back on. We're gonna talk about how Gravity Falls fandom demonizes Ford completly ignoring his character development, especially during weirdmageddon. Yes, he DID a lot of horrible things and WAS a horrible person over all. But at the very end when being reunited with his entire family we can see how much he wants to be a better person and actually tries to be a better person. The whole point of sea gruncles is the fact that Ford loves and cares about Stan and wants to make up for all these years they lost because of Ford. He is a complicated character with arcs, feelings, depth and (lets all say together) development. Deal with it Ford haters.

[flowersbane]

⚠️ MAJOR spoilers below for the ending of Dragon Age: The Veilguard ⚠️

this is a fic i wrote after completing the game. intended for solavellan besties who want a little more solavellan content because the ending just wasn’t enough (nothing would’ve been enough i need that man carnally)

Epilogue

Solas 🤍 Lavellan

Solas wakes in the Fade after falling into a restful slumber following the fight with Elgar’nan and his archdemon.

Word Count: 721

Rating: T

Tags: Solas’s POV, Kind of a Fix-It Fic?, Unedited (too busy crying), Solavellan Heaven

AO3 Link ✔️

The first thing he perceived was birdsong. It reached him through the darkness of sleep and began pulling him from his slumber. As his senses returned to him, his surroundings became known. He was laying on a bed. Sunlight was warming his face. His movement was no longer accompanied by the heaviness of his armor, only the weight of his soreness. A soft groan sounded from his lips as he turned onto his side. Then, his memories hit him like a storm. The Inquisitor. The Veil. The Fade. Panic tore through him, making him alert and fully awake. Before he could act, however, the door to the room he was in swung open.

Lavellan, in the same clothes she had worn in Skyhold, entered. Sunlight illuminated her hair from behind, making her as radiant as she always appeared to be. When their eyes met, he wondered if the guilt would outweigh the grief or if it would be the other way around.

“I should not have allowed you to come with me.”

She stared at him, expression unreadable and gaze steady.

“I was spent from my battle with Elgar’nan’s archdemon, I was not thinking clearly, and you…” He hadn’t had the strength to fully recognize her presence. After spending so many years watching her through the Fade and through her dreams, a part of him could not believe that she was truly before him once again; that she had forgiven him. “It is not an excuse. I will find a way to return you to the world, where you will be able to live your life with the people you love.”

“Why?”

The question startled him. He froze in the process of rising from his bed. “Pardon?”

“Why would you do that? I did not ask you to, so why?”

He sank back into the mattress, brows drawing together. “Vhenan–”

“No! Don’t you vhenan me.” She lifted her chin in a show of defiance that made his memories swirl. Her face when they argued. The confidence with which she led the inquisition with. Her expression before every adversary she ever encountered and bested. “I made my decision to follow you, you do not get to take that from me. You do not get to decide what is best for me. Not anymore. The only reason I will leave is if you ask me to because you no longer love me.” There was an uncertainty in her gaze that he had not often seen. In truth, he had only ever caught glimpses of it after Crestwood. “Do you not love me?”

He rose from the bed. “I do.” The words were tumbling out of his mouth before he could fully consider them. “I have only ever loved you, but it is selfish of me to keep you here when I know there are many who love you beyond this place.”

“You still don’t get it. You are not keeping me here. I want to be here, I want to be with you.” The look on her face threatened every thread of his pride’s will. “I love you, Solas.”

His hands moved on their own, palm pressing against the side of her face. “I love you too, vhenan.” He moved his hand to the back of her neck and leaned forward, pressing their foreheads together. Her closeness was the warmth of the sun after a long winter. She was the return home after a long war. Comforts he did not deserve. “But what of your friends? Your family? Your clan?”

“You are my heart. Do you expect me to live without my heart?”

The threads came undone. He pressed his lips against hers in a kiss that felt immortal. It was every kiss they had ever shared and every kiss they would share from then on. He wrapped his arms around her and closed the distance between their bodies. They could not be close enough. When they finally pulled away from one another, he could not stop himself from kissing her again, shorter this time but laced with all the longing he had caged during the years they had been apart. “I love you. Forgive me, vhenan, I love you.”

She placed a gentle kiss on the corner of his mouth. “I love you too.” She planted another closer to his cheek. “Solas.”

[prettyboysdontlookatexplosions]

the thing about Getting Involved In Your Community is i think, based on my own experience, it’s easy to think of it as an “eating your vegetables” type thing that you know you should do, or feel like you’re supposed to do, because it’s Good and Right. you want to be the kind of person who does it. and perhaps as a result times like these filled with people talking about Getting Involved In Your Community can feel like a lot of pressure in an already stressful time. like a call to do more when it feels like you’re already doing all you can. and i am not interested in arguing with anyone’s assessment of their own lives in that regard. but i do just want to say because i have not seen this expressed a lot and i think it’s worth hearing if you haven’t that volunteering and getting involved in my community has been maybe the best thing i have ever done for myself on a completely selfish level as measured solely by its impact on my own personal mental health and quality of life. i didn’t know that was going to be true before i did it and maybe it isn’t true for everyone. but for me and i have to believe for at least some other people who haven’t had a chance to learn this wonderful news yet, it is just unparalleled in terms of effort expended for good feelings created for me to feel in my own head. (and fwiw this was also true like almost immediately even before i found the sort of “niche” i have settled into with its attendant routine and social circle lol. like the first time i did a grocery delivery route during lockdown i felt like i had taken a party drug.) i am not telling you to eat your vegetables, i am cheerfully and without pressure or judgment recommending a restaurant i like a lot and strongly suggesting you get the roast broccoli as a side because it’s one of the best things i’ve ever tasted. the fiber and vitamins are just a bonus wholly irrelevant to the reasons you should order it. up to you! we all have our Things and preferences! but, yknow, i just think it’s a natural human tendency that if something is Good it’s probably also not, like, good, iykwim, but some things, like roast broccoli, are both! and i would just hate for anyone to miss out on learning they love roast broccoli because they’re assuming it can’t be good for you and also rock.

[francesderwent]

it seems to me that our task—as Christians but also just as people who care about this country and don’t want to see it like this—is to step outside the us-versus-them, black and white thinking which elections love to encourage, and begin imagining our neighbors more generously and compassionately.

our politicians have spent the whole election cycle appealing to the very lowest common denominator—but that does not mean that when we picture our political rivals we must imagine the lowest common denominator. it does not mean that that lowest common denominator defines everyone who voted one way or another. the people who voted for the worst possible reasons do exist—people who feel genuine hate for those different from them, the crass and the vitriolic and the cruel, the power-hungry and the callous. these people are all real, and our politics has undoubtedly given them a voice. but again: I think we must challenge ourselves to hold in our minds a version of the “other” who is more human and more complicated than that. our principle should be built off of “innocent until proven guilty”—we should consider people as being politically thoughtful and well-meaning and conflicted, until we are beyond a doubt proven wrong.

the objection, at this point, would be the objection I’ve seen all over the internet: “okay, maybe people had better reasons in mind, but voting for a rapist wasn’t a dealbreaker for them.” and that’s a powerful bit of rhetoric. but, first of all, both sides were using the same arguments leading up to the election to dissuade people from voting third party or sitting the election out: “you’re not supposed to vote for somebody perfect, you’re supposed to vote for the lesser of two evils/the policies you most agree with/the party you think will most support your interests and the common good.” so it’s hypocritical to then turn around and accuse your political opponents of voting for someone who’s personally (understatement of the year) not perfect. and second of all, the notion of “maybe they didn’t like such-and-such policy or quality, but it wasn’t a dealbreaker” is actually exactly my point.

every voter has to weigh for him or herself which issues are going to be regarded as most important. as long as I’ve been alive, people have been pearl-clutchingly scandalized that others have weighed the issues differently than themselves, so the moral panic certainly is not new. but despite that, this is literally what our country is founded upon: there is no set-in-stone hierarchy of values. we all get to decide for ourselves what good is worth pursuing. note: I’m not saying this is a good thing; I think what we’re seeing now is precisely the problem with that system. but the point remains that you cannot insist on the importance of a democratic election and then be horrified that democracy will sometimes vote in favor of a good that you think is subordinate, to the exclusion of a good you think is foundational—that’s democracy for you! that’s the system! you might view it as despicably selfish and shallow to vote based on the price of eggs—but for someone who is very poor, that reasoning might appear far more serious than it does to you. what would be a dealbreaker for you might not be a dealbreaker for someone else.

everyone has to determine for himself or herself what the greatest possible good is which can be achieved by the federal government, and what the greatest evil is we should avoid. at the end of this determination, everyone ends up with his or her own little hierarchy of values. the horror of two-party politics is that unless your hierarchy lines up point by point with the platform of one of the main parties—and it almost certainly doesn’t!!—your vote will either not align with the hierarchy you believe to be right and just, or it will not have the power to put that hierarchy into practice in the real world. this is where imagining people generously and compassionately comes into play: perhaps someone’s first priority in casting a vote for the republicans was the price of eggs. now, instead of jumping to the conclusion that their second priority was expelling hated foreigners from the country or making it so gay couples lose visitation rights at the hospital, imagine that their second priority was something you agree with, something compassionately-motivated and understandable, maybe even something that wasn’t a part of the republican platform. now imagine what priorities they might have that weren’t presented as an option by either of the main parties—priorities they might share with you.

”but my morality is right!” you might say. “their priorities are misaligned and their hierarchy of values is wrong!” that may very well be true. but American democracy cannot recognize it, cannot give any more weight to the true worldview, because that would be taking sides. if you want a democratic system you have to accept the possibility that the correct and the popular might not line up. you might also say, “but they’re wrong about which policies are actually going to help them! the price of eggs won’t go down!” that might also be true. in that case, it’s sort of on the people with the good policies for failing to convince the voters.

you might feel aghast that other people weighed the things you disagree with them about as more important than the things you agree with them about. it’s an understandable feeling. but the crucial thing is twofold: one, unless you acknowledge their right to disagree with you—both in essential matters of morality and in matters of the relative importance of specific moral issues—you don’t actually believe in American democracy. and two, if we are to move forward we have to start acting as if the things on which we agree are more important to our humanity than the things on which we disagree. even if we voted based on the things we disagree on! when we interact with each other we have to focus on the things we agree on.

we have to believe that people are trying their best. we have to, when we engage in political discourse, engage with a hypothetical opponent who is not the easiest possible punching bag. and when we’re confronted with our genuine enemies—those who hate us and hate everything good—instead of dehumanizing them, we have to love them. I don’t end there as a little glittery good-feeling flourish to smooth over the difficulties, because that is the most difficult part. there is no version of this story where all the hurt and fear and division are erased simply by the “right people” winning elections. there is also no version of this story where all the hatred and sin and despair is solved by good people contentedly praying rosaries in little self-satisfied prayer groups. Our Lord reconciled the world to Himself not by the worldly power of conquest, and also not by kindliness and miracles and convincing people one by one to change their lives, but by His suffering and death. the reconciliation of our world will require our suffering, and our death to self. there is no other way out than through the radical love of the Cross—that while we were yet sinners, Christ died for us. He asks us to follow in His footsteps. imagining our neighbor as lovable is a good first step. loving him when he is not lovable is the next one, and the necessary one.

[stanfordsweater]

i think it's interesting to say that we don't see dean vulnerable often because, especially in the early seasons but continuing to the end of the show, i feel like we see him vulnerable all the time-- we're granted the gift of being the camera all those times he's close to tears, a stand-out example being in what is and what should never be when we see him on his knees crying over fake!john's grave, but there are many many other examples of him being very vulnerable/cracked-open to the audience that i feel people do a real disservice to by forgetting.

right off the bat we see him vulnerable in the pilot when he talks about pursuing john and sam reminds him he's going back to school:

where he has to take a second and remind himself that he doesn't get sam back, because sam has a life, and dean collects himself but won't even look at sam beyond a derisive glance when he says "i'll take you home."

what is this moment if not planting the seeds for when dean later says, in shadow, that what he really wants is sam with him and his family back together?

SAM: I mean, what are you gonna do when it’s all over? DEAN: It’s never gonna be over. There’s gonna be others. There’s always gonna be somethin’ to hunt. SAM: But there’s got to be somethin’ that you want for yourself— DEAN: Yeah, I don’t want you to leave the second this thing’s over, Sam. SAM: Dude, what’s your problem? DEAN: Why do you think I drag you everywhere? Huh? I mean, why do you think I came and got you at Stanford in the first place? SAM: ‘Cause Dad was in trouble. ‘Cause you wanted to find the thing that killed Mom. DEAN: Yes, that, but it’s more than that, man. You and me and Dad—I mean, I want us… I want us to be together again. I want us to be a family again. SAM: Dean, we are a family. I’d do anything for you. But things will never be the way they were before. DEAN: (sadly) Could be. SAM: I don’t want them to be. I'm not gonna live this life forever. Dean, when this is all over, you’re gonna have to let me go my own way.

and what is THIS moment if not dean being vulnerable? when he's reminded that the "something he wants for himself" is completely impossible because sam doesn't want it and dad left without a word by choice?

my best guess is that people don't read these moments as dean being vulnerable because he's turned away from sam-- in the pilot, he looks out the window and purses his lips and takes sam back to school. in shadow, he physically turns away from sam and grabs at the dresser and his expression shuts down when sam says no.

that doesn't mean that dean is necessarily angry or feeling possessive over sam, it's because dean can't show his vulnerability to sam (at this point in the show), because he has to be strong and he has to keep a lid on his problems or people die. deep down dean feels like wanting anything for himself is selfish and impossible. going back to what is and what should never be, that is the thesis of the entire episode: dean gets his deepest wish, and hundreds of people die. and he is broken over it.

DEAN All of them. Everyone that you saved, everyone Sammy and I saved. They're all dead. (...) It's like my old life is, is coming after me or something. Like it doesn't want me to be happy. Course I know what you'd say. Well, not the you that played softball but… "So go hunt the Djinn. He put you here, it can put you back. Your happiness for all those people's lives, no contest." Right? But why? Why is it my job to save these people? Why do I have to be some kind of hero? (begins to cry while talking) What about us, huh? What, Mom's not supposed to live her life, Sammy's not supposed to get married? Why do we have to sacrifice everything, Dad? (pause) It's… (Dean's lips tremble. Silence. We hear the sky rumbling. Tears begin to falls on DEAN's cheek.) Yeah…

but where my sam-as-POV theory about why people keep saying dean isn't vulnerable dies is that we see these moments, so how do other people interpret them? is it just a case of not remembering? do some people think i'm totally off-base with this?

[0w0tsuki]

My thing about the femboy discourse is that I don't think there's much value in trying to delineate whether femboys are "really TMA" because that's not my fucking problem with femboys. My problem is something even the other trans feminists who've talked about this have had to tip-toe around and I'm just going to outright say it.

A MAJORITY of self identified femboys/femboy attracted people (yeah because our problem is not with the identity in and of itself but how the attraction to the transfeminine body while denying the transfemininity is a core tenent to Femboy culture. This cis girl who's into femboys because she sees them as someone that she as a woman can have power over un the patriarchy is a part of this conversation too) in the WIDER online community (Tumblr is a bubble!) are OPEN transmisogynists. Open as in they loudly proclaim their view of transfems as men, their complete disrespect of transfems boundaries, and their fetishisation of all transfeminine bodies as their preferred male sex object. Open as in STEALING the identity of Transfem Sex workers for their sissy scam blogs. Open as in harassing anyone they can get their hands on about how transfemininity is shoved down their throats. Open as in they can get together and make entire social media sites unusable with their bitchfit crybaby tantrums about Transfem existence.

Everybody loves to come together and make fun of these cretins when they get together to rage about the newest Transfem confirmation as a way to virtue signal being to recognize obvious out and proud transmisogyny and then collectively snap their fingers to forget about them the instant they quite down. The instant they would have to recognize that people like this are ALWAYS this vocal about it in their personal lives they just aren't as organized. The instant they would have to recon that there is a large contingent of mspec transmisoginists who are obsessed with transfems and make it their life's goal to sexualize our existence as much as possible while denying us our femininity and humanity.

The instant that they would have to recon that perhaps femboy isn't a queer friendly catchall term for "feminine boy" and is actually a term with history. That in that history there is trauma, exploitation, and harrasment. That that history is happening daily. That there are transfems whose only history with the term IS THAT HISTORY. That there are transfems whose experience with femboys has been the most transmisogynistic hateful bile she's ever experienced.

The instance a transfem asserts that she might not be 100% comfortable being around self identified femboys. That she might not not take kindly to the assertion that they are essentially the same thing and that infact femboys are her closest ally in the queer community. She's told to put all that to the side because uwu soft bean tboys would self combust from sadness if they were forced to think for even a second that their new word for gender expression might not be the purest thing in the world and they would actually have to be considerate of how they interact with others.

Then she's an evil perisex bio essentialist who just hates men being feminine and gender nonconformity and is trying to pull the ladder up by denying eggs femboy culture. She's actually actually an anti-sex puritan whose having an autogynophilia based disgust reaction. She's a pickme trying to throw Transfem femboys under the bus.

If you want transfems to feel safe around femboys then stop attacking everyone who doesn't. Work on your own problems. Neither of you were responsible for burning this bridge but it's selfish of you to put it on her to fix it. Your going to have to put an effort into stopping those fires from being started. Do not blame her for being burned.

[wuucchoo]

Jujutsu kaisen: the good and the bad

Hello!!! I'm out here making essays about jujutsu kaisen once again! And this is most likely the last one I'll make on it :3

((This is a (almost) 4k word rant, read at your own risk >:3))

So, the manga ended - and as far as I can tell, people’s opinions on it are pretty much divided. I personally found it extremely unsatisfying for many reasons, but I'll start with the ‘good’ things first.

THE GOOD

Jjk is a story that's a battle of ideals as much as it is a battle of techniques and fists. And, based on my understanding, the ending that gege chose to go for is the one where no one was actually proven right or wrong. Everyone's ideals and way of life remained the same from the beginning of the story to the end. 

Yuji, who's ideal is to save people as much as he can, was able to do that to the very end. Yes, there were hiccups - like the moment where Megumi had to remind him what his ideal was when he almost gave up after the Shibuya incident, but he got back on track right after he heard what Megumi had to say. And so he remained the person he was from the start by helping Megumi and also trying to help sukuna too. His character is pretty straightforward so it's very easy to understand it.

Sukuna, whose way of life and ideal is to live for himself in whatever way he wanted to, did just that to the very end. He refused yuji's offer because he'd rather die than live on someone else's terms. And in the afterlife he only considered trying a different path if there's a next life where his options would possibly be different than what he had in the life he knew. A possibility of a different life, a different path - yet still on his own terms, like he always did. He didn't regret the way of life he chose, he lived the only way he knew how based on the options presented to him in that life. And if there is a next life, he wouldn't mind trying out another path depending on what his supposed next life would have in store for him - as long as he does it on his own terms, and not living through what someone else's version of happiness was. He remained steadfast with his belief and ideal until the very end.

And megumi! I have a lot to say about him so brace yourself to anyone who might read this :3

At first, I thought (after that ending) that his character was all about him wanting to live and letting other people into his life once again and all that shit idk. But now, after cashew (from twitter!) explained their interpretation of the ending I see it in a different way (but slightly the same still).

Megumi’s character from the beginning to end has always been about loving selflessly in a selfish world. As a young child, he had viewed himself as nothing but a commodity, a bargaining chip his father left behind - and his value was in the technique he was born with because that's how every adult in his life has treated him. Gojo went to find him because of his technique, the school accepted and helped him out financially because of his technique, the Zenin wanted him because of his technique - just, every adult who could have made a difference in his life failed him because whether they did it on purpose or not, all of them made it seem like Megumi’s value is only ever in his CT.

Yes, Toji was happy when he found out that Megumi kept the Fushiguro surname because of the implication that he was never sold into the Zenin - but that hardly made an impact on Megumi’s perception of his worth because he never knew who Toji even was. To the very end, Megumi’s father was ‘the dude who sold him to the Zenin as a bargaining chip’ for him ((which i hate btw, but we’re talking about ‘the good’ right now so that rant can wait :3c)). And so, as a kid who was made into thinking that he’s just a commodity - he poured all the love in his heart to the one person who loved him just because its him, which was his sister. And in so doing, he became a person who puts someone else’s happiness above his own at all times. 

Gojo tried to get that out of Megumi by telling him to ‘be greedy/selfish’, and he did try to do that during ‘origin of obedience’ where he acquired a domain - not because he wants to save someone else, but because he wants to defeat the finger bearer in front of him. And that was just the one time, moving forward - everything he did has been for someone else again. He almost slipped into the deep end when he almost killed Remi just because he can that one time, but Tsumiki (or the idea of her) stopped him. This made me think that if Tsumiki doesnt exist Megumi would have been so powerful ((and yet evil too at the same time, something to think about i guess))

In a world that rewards selfishness he chooses to be selfless and keep other people's happiness above his own - because to him seeing the people he cares about happy is what peak happiness looks like. So when sukuna tried to manipulate and shame him for everything that happened while he was possessed - he didn't entertain it, instead he decided to do the thing that got him into this mess all over again - to live for other people once again. Living for the sake of Tsumiki’s happiness, trying to save her in every way possible as much as he could, was not a stupid mistake - that's why he will go and do it again. Despite all the pain and suffering it caused him, he will try to live and love again (I'm talking love in its broad definition btw) - because loving Tsumiki wasnt a mistake he should learn from, but a memory he will cherish. 

From the very beginning, Megumi’s ideal was to save people unequally because he's not a hero, and he never tried to be - the best way he can think of living his life is to pick and choose who to save because he can't realistically save everyone. And so, this - as well as the first thing I mentioned - was his truth and he stuck to it to the end. And he did have a moment when he gave up on that, after sukuna succesfully wore down his soul through all this careful planning and risks he took from the moment he got interested in megumi. Possessing him in ch 212 (at his most vulnerable and confused moment), performing a bath ritual to drag his soul even further than it already was, killing Tsumiki so Megumi loses any semblance of hold he might have had even after doing the bath ritual, and then using his likeness to fight sorcerers. Yet despite being the one with the most reason to curse sukuna in death, he decided, not just to live his truth, but tsumiki’s as well - by choosing to think about the people he cares about instead of cursing those who wronged him.

In the end, everyone lived and died by their own truth and ideals, and no one was proven right or wrong. ((gojo, yuta and many other characters too had their ideals challenged but never proven right or wrong - but i dont wanna talk about too many characters or this would go on for days))

Looking at it this way, the ending was 'good' in its own right (and as a concept) - but the road that led up to it, and the execution for most of the scenes left a lot to be desired.

THE BAD

While I do see what gege seems to be trying to say with his story, that doesn't mean I agree with it nor do I believe that such an ending was 'earned' when the build up that led to it was lacking in so many ways.

I agree that the world isn't black and white, and no one has the answer on what the right way to live life truly was - but the villains in his story went beyond being ‘bad’, they were clear and pure evil. And yet we see zero comeuppance - both kenjaku and sukuna didn't get the karma they deserve. Because, as it seems, with all the Buddhism values and themes gege borrowed - in the world of jjk karma isn't real, or at least not for the villains. ((And nope, what naoya and the zenin went through wasn't karma - what they experienced was vengeance, imo, more than it was karma.)) That's why Megumi felt like such an incomplete character, because to complete him the way he deserves would be to answer that karma is real.

Despite all the evil things both sukuna and kenjaku did - we instead see them both rewarded (REPEATEDLY)  for being evil. 

First, kenjaku.

Most people would probably agree that kenjaku is the main villain in the story, despite how the second half of the culling game turned into mostly about sukuna - it was kenjaku's master plan that started all of this. And kenjaku was evil. Pure and unapologetic evil. The things he did to choso's mother alone, warrants him an end worse than death. He lived his long life doing nothing but make other people suffer, all for the sake of curiosity and wanting to be entertained.

And yet the ending we all saw him get was a happy one - dying with a smile on his face because finally after years of living he was finally entertained - and it all happened because he decided to play with people's lives and start a death game.

He was rewarded for being evil.

Playing with the lives of other people was not presented to be as bad as it should be when the villain who committed these crimes didn't even get their comeuppance and was instead rewarded. Just to put into perspective, kenjaku REPEATEDLY forced someone to be impregnated so he can use the cursed children for his experiment. And that is just a tiny drop in the pool of heinous stuff he did. He is beyond evil.

While his way of life and ideal was not proven correct; it wasnt proven as wrong either. Because he didnt get even an ounce of the suffering he induced onto others, instead he was rewarded with a satisfying death. Putting into perspective everything kenjaku did, its pretty insane that he got to have a death where he could have a smile on his face and be satisfied. Gege went out of his way to create an op character (with an op technique that barely got an explanation) out of nowhere with takaba just so kenjaku can have fun. This is what i mean by evil gets rewarded in gege’s story. ((i mean just look at what happened with mei mei vs what happened with nanami. Gege rewards bad people, a lot of the time. And i guess in nanami’s case it can be argued that its coz to gege, death itself is a reward, but i digress.))

And then there’s sukuna.

Where do I even begin…

Maybe at the beginning, to make things easier.

Remember what Sukuna said the first time he reincarnated? He was looking for the 'women and children' celebrating how 'it would be a massacre' - this statement from him suggests that he, not only fights people who challenges him ((like what was implied with his dialogue with Kashimo)) but he was also actively seeking out people leagues weaker than him just for fun or as sports. Which was why the minuscule lore drop we got about him by the end felt really jarring to read - especially when it came from Mahito's mouth. A character who (as far as we knew in the story) barely even knows himself, let alone Sukuna. And yet, for the sake of making things just speed up and over with, we are just supposed to believe that he knows enough about Sukuna to say that his reason for being the way he was was because of 'revenge to the world' 😭. Where did Mahito learn that? When did he learn that? We don't know, so we just gotta accept and sit through Gege's 'tell not show' way of telling a story.

Sukuna is evil, and just like Kenjaku he was not apologetic about it nor does he regret it. Every path in his life he chose was that of the evil route - there was no grey area, there was no question on whether his way of life was good or not. It was evil, plain and simple.

And yet the story Gege wrote kept rewarding him for being evil.

And it seems as if all the innocent people he killed (for no reason!) doesnt matter.

Despite how bullshit it was - he was able to steal an innocent kid's body using a binding vow that should have had him killed (or worse) and yet it did nothing to him. He was rewarded for being greedy. He then had the time of his life fighting gojo, I don't count the jumping that happened later on as him having the time of his life coz it seems to be just a major annoyance to him. And then later on died with the option to walk a different path in the next life. In itself, it sounds great - but looking at the destruction he caused... Where's the karma? 

There's none, because gege doesnt seem to think he deserves it. 

I really really disagree with this message ngl. Coz the characters in gege's manga holds more sympathy to the perpetrators than the victims themselves - and I just can't agree with it  ((coz wdym gojo tried his best 'to reach sukuna'? That shit came out of nowhere.. Like,, why was he more concerned if sukuna had a good time? This wouldnt feel so jarring and out of place if Gege took the time to flesh out the characters more. if he gave us a moment of Gojo sympathizing with sukuna before the fight, before the culling game, before Shibuya. Meaningful character interactions between Gojo and Sukuna, a convincing one, that would make it make sense that Gojo's goal when he was fighting Sukuna was to, apparently, 'reach him' and 'make him understand'. The ending we got doesnt feel 'earned' because this whole time gege never gave us anything about Sukuna's character aside from 'he's very strong and he kills people' until the last two pages of the manga.))

For gege to go with this theme and messaging, he ended up disregard Megumi's character completely and reducing him into this character who had zero feelings on the matter that directly affected him. Yes, he was apologetic and all that - but... That's it? And while i do understand (i think) what it was Gege was trying to go for with Megumi's character, the execution of it just felt so half baked and lackluster - making Megumi's character feel incomplete despite the amazing build up Gege made for his character.

((A similar thing was done to yuji's character for the sake of the 'messaging' gege aimed for, but i will get to that later.))

Sukuna's statement of 'there are consequences to being greedy' never came to bite him in the ass, despite how much it should've considering all he has done- because everything he does gets rewarded. It's like, being that evil is good coz he keeps on getting what he wanted. And like a dumbass I kept on waiting for karma to get him and it never did. Coz karma isn't real in gege's world. ((and no, him being defeated is not karma because the only thing it did is lead him towards the path of redemption - like, the victims dont matter and what matters more is the psyche of the perpetrator. I dont know if i described it properly, but eh.))

Sukuna bets his life with a binding vow? He gets rewarded with the body he wanted with zero consequences - doesn't matter that gege had to go through a MASSIVE plot hole just to get there. Because in no universe was the thing he did to Megumi (and to hana) not considered ‘harm’, but it all got shoved under the carpet because gege doesnt know what to do with that. Gege needed that binding vow to not punish Sukuna, so despite the established rules he wrote in his own story that warrants that binding vow penalty to trigger - it just didnt... because??? If it was coz 'yuji didnt include himself in the people that cant be harmed', as Sukuna guessed, then i guess yuji didnt include Megumi and Hana in it too? But doesnt that neglect the point of yuji's character as being 'kind'? 212 was a massive plothole and i think thats really where the writing began to get... bizarre.

Sukuna kills yorozu/tsumiki just to drag Megumi further into the abyss? He gets rewarded with a weapon that (surprise, surprise) saved him from higuruma's CT. A CT that before that moment, he doesn't even know about. Good thing killing tsumiki's body rewarded him with a weapon, amirite?

Sukuna never fails to show his hatred for Yuji and would always try and make him suffer whenever he gets the chance? He gets rewarded by Yuji suddenly giving him an option to live again even though the entire story Yuji had always said he would kill sukuna. And i understand its coz yuji was able to know sukuna has a soul ((coz gege gave him the power of the mc punch)) and was able to conclude that he’s still human despite the HEINOUS crimes he committed, and megumi having been possessed by sukuna the longest was able to see that sukuna was desperate to live too - so i do see where gege was going with it. It just feels like the build up towards that conclusion wasn't earned, because even though it can be understood it just wasnt SHOWN to us. All thats being done is TELL and never SHOW.

Everything sukuna does gets rewarded and it just doesn't sit right with me. Its like saying the war criminals are just lashing out coz the world wronged them, that they deserve sympathy too. Okay, and what about the people they wronged, tho? Sukuna deserves sympathy for the world that wronged him, sure, but it doesnt absolve him of the crimes he committed - he deserves karma just as much as he deserves sympathy. And yet we see him walking away from everything he did with a smile on his face, zero regrets, zero repercussions and the possibility of living a better life in his next. ???

the ending

((Im sorry in advanced if youre a yuji fan coz im gonna say something you might not like 😢))

Imagine your sister got killed by someone and then your classmate comes in and says they forgive your sister’s murderer and wants to give them a chance at a better life? That this classmate of yours would be willing to turn his back on everyone else just so this criminal who killed your sister (and so many others in cold blood) can live? That even if no one else is willing to, he would give solace to this murderer - just so this murderer gets his second chance? What would that feel, you think? Thats a pretty weird scenario you might say, but thats exactly what Gege made yuji say and do by the end there.

Gege tried to portray 'kindness' with that speech yuji did, but ((imo!)) he ended up making yuji's character sound insensitive and cruel not just towards sukuna but mostly towards his victims and to all the people that died trying to stop him.

In itself, maybe in Gege's head - it sounds like a "good" thing to say - but when you look at the chapters that happened before that, its not something yuji nor sukuna earned because yuji was not sukuna's only victim and he wasnt the only one who defeated sukuna for him to decide and say all that. Knowing the things we know about the story that led up to that moment, gege just made yuji sound selfish and cruel - by having zero regards to everyone else's sacrifice and suffering. Which is a very weird thing for gege to do because before that moment, yuji was talking about the people who died - and then disregards that in the next chapter just so gege can write those lines.

Yuji's character is far, FAR, from selfish and cruel, and yet that speech gege made him say to the dying sukuna unfortunately made him sound like that.

This would all land better IF we saw yuji SEE sukuna go through the life he had during the heian era - like maybe what he went through was enough of a reason for someone like yuji ((who was supposed to be kind)) to suddenly offer all that, knowing damn well the amount of people who would possibly be hurt by that decision.

Im really not digging gege's exploration of good and evil - coz he almost always rewards evil and make good people suffer (with zero payoff, mind you). This 'trying to understand the villain coz he's human too' route just fell flat because we were never given the chance to understand sukuna except in the last 2 pages where he was given vague lore drops - and a statement from mahito who, before that moment, doesnt even know anything about sukuna except that he's strong. How and why the world 'wronged' him, we'll just never know, coz instead of showing us, gege kept on just 'telling' instead. But i guess for the sake of just ending the story we all just gotta accept that mahito, of all things, somehow knew of sukuna's reasons. lmao?

And the reason why i keep referring to the lines as 'Gege made this character say this and that' is because by the end, and even in some chapters before that, the characters lost their identity and are instead talking through a script gege made them say. Yes, a story is essentially that - but a good story is where characters feel alive and are speaking through their own soul which the last 5 chapters of jjk lacked tremendously. The characters felt like they were locked in a fixed role gege chose for them, and then they were given scripts to say, and then they were all rushed to say those lines because of tight deadline, and they have to say those lines just so the story would end. I know i dont make sense... but it probably would make sense to anyone who have read a good story where characters actually feel alive and not just there as the author's mouthpiece.

I know this is gege's first series, and its bound to have some flaws - drawing and writing a story weekly requires immense skill and discipline, i respect his craft a lot. Its why the disappointment i felt was great, because the story in the first half had such a good thing going and so i placed such a high expectation on it. Still, for his first series, its not bad... I probably wont be looking forward to his next series though, i find im not the biggest fan of this writing style that leaves a lot of things unresolved and just lets the readers write their own headcanons to fill the void.

((if anyone read up here, uhhhh hey there! thank you for reading my (almost) 4k word rant lmao, i actually have more to say but ee.. there's too many. This is my last rant on jjk (probably) feel free to fight me on this, one thing i wont back down on is the plot hole in 212 - that was a stinky plot hole and we just went past that like, damn..))

bye for now!

[shoezuki]

Thinkin bout Sampo Koski rn as like. His character n what we get of him in honkai star rail and he fucking. He confuses me like. There has to be So Much more to him like

The general vibes of him and especially how other characters treat him is that of comic relief, a punching bag, a goof, just a slick conman causing trouble. It's genuinely difficult NOT to insult him n treat him badly with dialogue options and any time he's even mentioned March 7th hisses at him. He's literally a cryptid in belobog. He's a joke.

But. But. There's his light cone. It makes me insane. It contradicts all of that.

In it he's competent. He's badass. He's omnipotent. He's able to somehow know a sniper from however far away is locked on him and address them specifically.

And even like... in the entire plot of jarilo-vi he's spoken of like he's not much. He's a 4 star character. But he's practically as present as bronya and seele and Gepard and his involvement in the story is ASTRONOMICAL. He has a part in every major event. He's the one who drags the Trailblazers and bronya into the Underworld. He's the one who takes you to svarog, to the overworld again. He gets Natasha and saves you from svarog. He's the first character you ever meet on jarilo.

And he seems to just vanish before you confront cocolia. But no. Sampo is the one who has the last word and wraps up the entire mission on jarilo-vi. He fucking breaks the forth wall. Jarilo-vi both begins and ends with Sampo.

He calls himself shadowy comic relief yet he seemingly orchestrated everything. What is he. What the fuck is he doing. What else is up with him and when will we get more of him. I want to bite into him and tear him apart.

[sammygender]

i’ve never been as angry on behalf of a character as i am for sam winchester

[shannonsketches]

Why is the anime so weird, it's not even the same series dude?? It's like,

Anime:

GOKU: I have a great idea to bring peace to the universe, and my leadership and compassion alone will unite us all. I have No Flaws and am A True Relatable Everyman :)

VEGETA: NO! I AM THE BEST AND I WILL CAUSE PROBLEMS UNTIL I AM RECOGNIZED AS SUCH!!!!

Manga:

GOKU: Vegeta what's cornmeal made of? I know it's what the corn eats, but what's it made of? VEGETA: Hey Kakarot let's play the quiet game until one of us dies.

[maskedchip]

I wanted to share this little comic I’ve had in my folder for a while, it was actually one of the first mini comics I planned right after finishing the game but I battled with the perfectionist demons so I never posted until now 😭

But yeah, I think Susato is really sweet and caring and deserves little breaks :’) 

[bunnieswithknives]

sorry if idk this but what do you think about Wordgirl now in 2024 do you still like it do you still want to make art or talk about it or are you just done with all of it forever and plus i seen that you haven't made art of it since 2022 so you just done with all of it oh yeah and what about The Magnus Archives + Wordgirl ao3 fic too like is that just going to be and i know that your working on 2 au's now just wanting to know that's all

My interests tend to come in intense bursts and then fade. Unless something like, big happens like it gets a reboot its unlikely I'll be coming back to it anytime soon. As for the fic I don't have any current plans to finish it unfortunately.

[jrueships]

r u the grew up poor never being able to buy the little things in life u always wanted as a kid so now u buy whatever little thing u want as an adult and struggle with saving for the big mandatory thing,

or the grew up poor never being able to buy the little things in life u always wanted as a kid so now u just never buy anything small bcs u had to learn to live without it and constantly try to save for the next big thing in 500 yrs