#perfect....just perfect......bellissimo...........

Charles clutches at the steering wheel, jade eyes fixed on the road.

Dried tear tracks staining his cheeks and marring his once perfect makeup.

I did that, Max thinks, I hurt him. I hurt my Charlie.

His old, worn down heart compresses inward, almost choking the old rancher with the weight of guilt and grief. "I've always wanted a big family." He begins, unsure where to start but knowing if he doesn't speak now, Charles will be lost to him forever. "But I've always known the weight of legacy that's followed me around since the day I was born. The Verstappen ranching conglomerate is a multimillion dollar business that keeps growing—and it requires two people to lead it forward. Before me, it was my dad and his business partner. My grandfather and his business partner. So on and so forth. But I'm...well, my father would call be a hopeless idiot. My sister thinks it's romantic." He lets out a sardonic chuckle. "When I was a boy, I dreamed of happily ever afters. Of finding someone to love and cherish. A partner not just in love but in life."

Max never looks away from Charles, from the outline of his profile against the backdrop of the Texas night. He sees the way his pink lips part, the softest little gasp leaving them when he hears Max's words.

A partner not just in love, but in life.

"But you were afraid." His Charlie spits out. "You never took a chance."

"I took too many chances." Max doesn't hesitate to offer up his heart, to let Charles examine the cuts and wounds and decide for himself if it's anything worth keeping. "I fell for the wrong Omega again and again. So many of them don't realize what it takes to run a ranch this size. It's not about derbys and parties and fine clothes. It's about accounting, agriculture, business associations, animal husbandry, and a whole lot of other work that made all everyone of them squeal and turn their heads away. The work is tiring, the days are long, but I thought if we loved each other enough, we could build something well worth having." Max's hand aches to cup Charles's cheek, to have this young slip of an Omega see that the Alpha he's been sleeping with is nothing more than a tired, sad man who still hoped for love.

"Then you were s-stupid to go after all those debutantes." Charles pulls up to a small, well-maintained building on the far side town. He kills the engine but keeps both hands on the steering wheel, gaze forward. "You should have looked elsewhere. At other ranching families or people who knew more than how to curtsey and smile and say pretty things."

"I know. I know that now, Charlie. I was young and ignorant and—"

"You wanted something worthy. Someone who could stand by your side and not shame you." A lone teardrop rolls down his cheek. "Why would a used up stripper ever cross your mind?"

The self-hatred and hurt resonating through that lovely, soft accent crushes Max. The old, grizzled rancher who kept to himself and barely flinched after 12 hours herding cattle under the boiling hot sun.

He dares to place his large, veiny hand (covered in old scars and weatherbeaten from his decades ranching) atop Charles's smaller, delicate hand.

The Omega blinks rapidly, more tears dripping down his chin and staining his leather mini skirt.

Max doesn't dare to look away. "You're worth more than I can give you, Charles. Would you truly settle for a life with me on a ranch far away from the city, where I would be your only company? A life where I never left you alone because I...I want you, Charles. I want you in ways I shouldn't. Not just because you're beautiful and witty and clever but because...I want to build the rest of my life with you. However long that is."

"There you go again." His breath hitches. "Saying awful things about yourself. Well, you don't get to dictate how I feel." He finally turns, wet doe eyes piercing through Max. "And you don't get to tell me what I deserve. I haven't been able to make decisions for myself for a very, very long time. And you will sit here and let me choose." He glares at Max, as if expecting the old Alpha to challenge him.

But Max has met his match. Fiery, intelligent, and holding a past that he yearns to know more about.

"I'm sorry for how I've treated you, schat. For the way I've behaved and the things I allowed to fester." His hand moves, daring to wipe away the wet tears on his cheekbone. "The choice is yours, Charlie. It's always been yours. I just hope you know that once that choice is made, I won't be able to let go. You'll have me as your shadow until you decide to kick me the curb. I'm a stubborn man." He smiles wryly.

His beautiful boy rolls his eyes. "Yes, you are. Stubborn and dense and lovely."

"You sound like you're describing sourdough bread."

"You're not funny." He scoffs, even as the corner of his mouth twitches.

"I know." The wryness from his smile fades away, leaving only a soft, tentative expression that Charles only ever caught glimpses of after their nights together—before Max turned away and tried to pretend like he hadn't just worshipped Charles like the Omega was something precious. "I've ah, I've been out of the game for a while so I hope you'll forgive me for this."

Charles frowns when Max leans away for a moment, one hand reaching for something on his inside jacket pocket.

A white gardenia, slightly crumpled, but fresh and in full bloom.

"I was going to give it to you tonight. As part of a larger bouquet before the...incident."

"Before you beat a man blue for daring to besmirch my honor?" He tries to sound flippant and uncaring but the thing is—

Charles is very, very well-versed on the language of flowers.

And a white gardenia...

Unspoken love.

Admiration and deep affection.

Hope and new beginnings.

Charles's heart almost leaps out of its chest when Max very carefully loops the white gardenia against his gold bangle, carefully tying the stem until it looks like a corsage.

The kind that used to be given on prom nights.

His strong, imposing Alpha gently strokes the back of Charles's hand before looking up, cheeks a little pink but his eyes are blue and clear and intense. "Will you allow me to take you on a date, Charlie? A real date, schatje. Where you'll get all dolled up and I'll trip over my words and tell you I hope this date is the first of a million dates. Just me and you."

"What about that big family you always wanted? Or do you not want that with a stripper like me?"

Max clicks his tongue, giving a soft shake of his head. "You don't like it when I call myself old, and I don't like it when you talk down about yourself. And..." Charles watches as the tips of his ears burn red, as if Max were fighting to keep a full blush at bay. "If you think I haven't dreamed about pups with you then you'd be dead wrong, Charlie."

"I don't like being wrong." He leans forward, the sparkly eyeshadow he put on earlier still shimmering beneath the light of the stars. "But let's just see how the first date goes. You hurt me Max."

"I know."

"So you'll have to be patient now." He kisses the bridge of Max's nose. Strong. Regal.

The kind of nose Charles hopes their babies inherit.

The Alpha doesn't seem bothered by Charles's demand. Instead, the slightly stoic expression Max sometimes wears is nowhere in sight.

"I think you're my forever, Charlie." He smiles. "And I'll wait as long as you need."

🏜🐎💃🤠 🏜🐎💃🤠

The entire vibe of this AU is:

Charles: I'm not like the other Omegas.

Max: Hmm...

Charles: Knows agriculture, business management, livestock ranching, veterinary sciences, can ride stallions, manage vast swaths of land, and can bend his body into an S shape for Max's viewing pleasure.

WIGGLER

This is one I remember being disappointed by way back in 2012, well before I was the Super Mario Scholar I now fancy myself. On the low 3DS resolution, I initially thought it was a strange flower, but then I realized it's just Wiggler's face! It's cute, but so predictable. Even if there's not specifically a problem with the emblem, I wish there was a little more thought put into choosing it, you know?

For Wiggler, I would suggest a flower! It had a flower emblem in Mario Power Tennis, representing the one on its head, and I think a rare birds-eye view of that flower would be cute. Alternatively, they could do something like Diddy Kong's icon, which is more of a pattern than an individual icon, and make it look like a Wiggler segment. The emblem is already round, and Wiggler's length and segments are one of its major aspects!

MONTY MOLE

I like Monty Mole. I like Monty Mole's face. But again, no pizzazz! Maybe the framing is supposed to evoke Whack-A-Mole, but I think that's a stretch. Monty Mole is never really associated with any props, besides rocks and dirt clumps, but those are not very visually interesting. In this case, I actually think a full-body depiction would be good! Monty Mole's signature pose is the one it does with its arms up while popping out of the ground. Mario Kart knows this well, with it featured in Monty's trick animations, and the arms being present on the Monty Mole Mii costume's helmet. So, for Monty's emblem, I would suggest a depiction or perhaps silhouette of this pose, possibly including the hole beneath, if it's not too cluttered!

KAMEK

This is one that especially bothers me, because I love Kamek so much, and love to play as him! This emblem does immediately strike one as Kamek, yes, but you know by now that I will die without an IV pumping Stylistic Representative Mario Pizzazz into my bloodstream. Kamek ABSOLUTELY has unique imagery associated with him, and by that I mean the shapes seen whenever he uses his magic! Whether on their own, from a wand, in a puff of smoke, or on a full purple background, I think they would make an excellent icon.

These next two will have backgrounds because they're from Mario Party instead of Mario Kart. Sowwy

NINJI

This one seems obvious. Ninji gets a shuriken. It may not have used any in mainline games, but it has in Paper Mario. Easy! But not as easy as the next one!

SPIKE

Spike Pog may be powerful, but it is also a bit baffling. WHY Spike Pog? This is indeed the side profile of Spike as it throws a spike ball. And that is its Iconic Action. So its emblem represents that it throws spike balls... but it shows its face while doing it, rather than the spike ball itself! What the heck!

It was his icon in Mario Golf where he was an NPC. Maybe they thought it looked a little bland? I think they could make it look better. Just so strange!

That's MOST of the characters, this applies to, but there are some I'm just sort of split on: Funky Kong, Nabbit, King Bob-omb, and Poochy. They are all Depictions, but I kind of can't think of anything better for them? Funky's is nicely stylized, Nabbit's is stylized nicely enough, and the other two, I just can't really think of something. King Bob-omb, I think, NEEDS his mustache represented, and Poochy is a bit too weird of a dog to be represented by something like a paw print.

Life in Villa Torrisi was very monotonous, at least for the women of the village, who were devoted solely to domestic chores.

From a very young age, your father taught you your place in the world, and he made it clear to Isabella as well, but your sister still had hope that things would change.

The visit of Il Barone Fontanella and his son Genaro to the village only made it clearer that Isabella was fighting against the inevitable.

Cesare was the one who invited you to come with them to the ruins. He walked into the kitchen as if he owned the place, much to Valentina’s annoyance.

“You’re getting mud on the floor, Cesare!”

“I’ve come to invite Mia farfalinna (my little butterfly). Luca sent us to chaperone Isabella,” Cesare grumbled, a little annoyed. “We’re going to the ruins.”

“Oh, really?” you said happily. You loved being in the kitchen, but you hadn’t left the villa in a long time.

You dried your hands on your apron, then took it off and hung it on the coat rack in the kitchen with the rest.

“Well, have fun,” Valentina said goodbye, frowning at Cesare.

You left the kitchen with Cesare behind you and saw Il Barone’s son’s luxury car.

“È bellissimo! Soon I’ll have a car and I’ll take you to San Celeste to buy more of your spices.”

Cesare was happy, so you smiled at him.

“Grazie, Cesare.”

“Now let’s go to Genaro’s. There’s a seat for you in the car, but you can sit on my lap if you want.” He winked at you.

You stopped smiling.

“It’s not funny, Cesare.”

“Looking at your face, it’s very funny.”

You went down the steps with Cesare and reached the stables where Enzo and Isabella were.

“Sorellina mia (my little sister), I’ve prepared Sandro, we’re going riding,” said your older sister, giving you a big hug. She was wearing the new camera your father had bought her around her neck.

Her sweet rose perfume filled your senses, then you looked at Enzo and saw a hint of melancholy in his eyes.

His hair had grown quite long and he now combed it with wax. He looked even more handsome, and your heart beat like a wild colt in your chest.

“Enzo,” you greeted him with a nod.

“La piccola signorina Torrissi,” he greeted you with a smile.

You didn’t like that; it was just like Luca saw you, as a little girl.

When you were a child, your crush on Gianluca Trappani was too obvious. You hardly ever spent time with any man other than your father, Tino, or Cesare. Your father hardly let you go out after your mother's death, so Luca’s kindness became something to admire in your adolescence.

You liked the devotion with which he treated Valentina and cared for his son Samuele. He was sweet, kind, and honorable.

For you, he was the perfect man, except that he was under your father’s command, married, and twice your age. Besides, you could never get married, but you liked to fantasize about it.

Luca always saw you as a little girl, so your infatuation remained a sweet, platonic love, hidden in your childhood diaries, although Valentina had noticed and told you she hoped you would find a man like her Luca.

Finally, you mounted your horse Sandro, which was chocolate brown with a leather saddle that was quite comfortable. You had put on your riding pants and boots that morning in the hope that Il Barone’s arrival at Villa Torrisi would free you from your long, monotonous dresses.

Cesare smiled at you as he left with Genaro in the car.

Enzo, Isabella, and you followed behind them.

Isabella was very talkative, always able to make pleasant conversation, and she spoke very freely with Enzo, as if she knew him better than you did, which was probably true because she had secretly told you that Enzo had saved her from some of Don Spadaro’s men in San Celeste on the day Enzo won the Palio in honor of Villa Torrisi.

The first thing you said to your sister was that she shouldn’t spend time alone with Enzo.

Your sister was irritated.

“You’re just like our father.”

“No, Isabella, understand that you are a signorina, the daughter of a Don, and he is a man under our father’s command. You are putting him in danger." You made her see this, and she nodded reluctantly.

“Certo, but we’re just friends. Enzo is… he’s different from any other man I’ve ever met before.” You saw her eyes light up, and a bitter taste settled on your tongue.

It was jealousy.

“We don’t know many men our age, Isabella, well, except for Cesare…” you joked.

“I don’t think he counts as a man.”

You both laughed, and you tried with all your might to ignore that bitter taste that you didn’t like at all.

But the bitter taste had returned, it was like fire burning your throat, burning your stomach, your sister Isabella spoke so freely with Enzo and he responded back to her, they met your father’s men on the way and Isabella greeted them with such ease.

Why didn’t you have Isabella’s charm? She had definitely inherited it from Momma, and you had only inherited her submission and obedience, which made you your father’s favorite because he never had to argue or fight with you.

You knew your place, but you were fed up with it, and seeing Enzo and Isabella talking bothered you even more.

“Well, you two are very good friends…” you said, interrupting the conversation.

“Yes, Signorina Torrisi,” Enzo replied.

“You don’t have to call me that, Enzo.”

“I want to show you something. Remember, Sorellina? When we came here with Momma?” They galloped up the hill.

Seeing the landscape before you, you remembered the best memories of your childhood, when Momma painted those landscapes and your father wasn’t so angry.

“Yes!” The three of them dismounted.

“That’s why I bought the camera. Momma painted, but I’m not half as good as she was.”

“Enzo, take a picture of us!” you asked the young man, and he nodded as your sister explained how to focus the camera. He took two pictures, one of you two hugging like sisters with the ruins in the background, and another of just the landscape.

Your sister would add It to her diary.

You heard the loud engine of the car, and your sister suggested catching up with Genaro and Cesare before they killed each other.

They arrived soon, and after a short, sarcastic conversation between your sister and Genaro, Isabella went to show him the ruins. Cesare told you to stay.

“Your sister can take care of herself, farfalinna. If it were you, I’d be more worried…” he murmured, sitting in the driver’s seat with Enzo in the passenger seat, but not before opening the back door for you as a gesture of chivalry.

“I can take care of myself, Cesare,” you replied irritably.

He had lit a cigarette and taken his first drag, then blew the smoke directly into your face.

You sneezed, visibly annoyed. Enzo watched the scene with a frown.

“See? You can’t take care of yourself, that’s why I have to take care of you.” Cesare sneered.

“I don’t think you do a very good job,” Enzo complained. “No one takes care of her but you.”

“That’s the best part, Caruso,” Cesare joked.

You grumbled and took your recipe book/diary out of your small bag.

They passed the time, enjoying the sun on their skin.

Enzo read the newspaper and Cesare was already on his second cigarette.

“You know, Cugina (Cousin)? Sometimes I think my uncle treats you like a servant. Isabella seems to be treated like a principessa. She does nothing, and you spend all day in the kitchen.”

“I like to cook. My father doesn’t force me to be there,” you objected.

Enzo was surprised at how disrespectfully Cesare treated you. Had you told your father how your cousin treated you?

He treated him with contempt, but he was just a simple Caruso, and Cesare was foul-mouthed. You were a signorina, the youngest daughter of Don Torrisi. How was this possible?

“Cesare…” Enzo growled under his breath.

“What, Enzo? It’s the truth. It seems that my poor cugina is a servant. That will change when I’m in charge. I’ll only let her cook for me.” Next cigarette. Cesare smelled of smoke and ashes.

“Whatever you say, Cesare. Ignore him, Enzo. That’s what I do most of the time.” You replied, concentrating on your recipe book and leaning back in the back seat.

You fell asleep, and the movement of the car woke you up.

You saw Enzo driving and Cesare guiding him.

“What are you doing? Did Genaro give you permission?” you asked sleepily.

“Yes, of course, hold on tight, cousin, Enzo doesn’t know how to drive.”

Enzo snorted, but the quick, jerky movements woke you up completely. Cesare challenged Enzo to a race on the Circuit of the Gods, and you were already scared enough. Cesare teased you.

“It’s not funny, Cesare!”

“If you could see your face right now, it’s very funny.” He laughed loudly as Enzo continued to speed up, then you heard your sister’s screams.

“Minchia!” Enzo shouted, arriving as quickly as possible to rescue Isabella and Genaro.

Enzo got out and took out his gun, and Cesare made you get out of the car.

“Put your head down! Get on the horse and ride back to the villa as fast as you can.” Cesare gave you a silver knife. “If anyone comes near you, cut their jugular.”

“Cesare!” you shouted, frightened, your eyes wet with tears as he carried you to your horse’s saddle.

Fear was paralyzing you.

“It’s you or them. Enzo and I will be back soon with Isabella.” He kicked Sandro, and the horse galloped away in terror toward the Villa.

It didn’t take long before a man chased you on his horse. His boss had sent him to stop you from warning the villa. The last thing they needed was more of Don Torrisi’s men involved. He pulled you, trying to throw you off the horse, and you screamed in pain as he grabbed your hair.

You pulled out your knife and stabbed him in the neck. Soon, hot blood splattered your face and chest. The man was left hanging from his saddle with his horse out of control, and you fled with the feeling that you were drowning in that man’s blood.

Finally, you found Valerio and Roberto. By then you were babbling, you were very upset. They escorted you to the village, and you felt safer with your father’s men, who were armed with hunting rifles.

You explained to your father, Tino, and Luca what had happened, but you couldn’t stop crying.

“Bambina, stop whining and babbling and explain yourself better,” Tino scolded you with his usual severity.

You sniffed and wiped your tears. You had tried to clean the blood with a rag, but it had already dried on your skin, clothes, and hair.

You could only repeat to yourself, “Don’t cry, don’t cry, don’t cry.”

Those men looked at you seriously, Luca was the only one who looked at you with sadness and concern. Your father was angry.

“It’s the bandits from Messina, they took Isabella and Genaro, so Enzo and Cesare went to rescue them, Cesare sent me back,” you murmured.

“Good, we must send men right away, Luca,” Don Torrisi ordered, leaving his office with Luca behind him.

“Bambina, go make yourself presentable. You look pitiful and dirty,” Tino scolded you, leaving your father’s office and finally leaving you alone.

Valentina came to see you in your room, helped you take off your bloodstained clothes, and bathe in the small bathtub. You were still in shock; you had killed a man.

When you were clean, you heard that Cesare and Isabella had returned. Valentina tried to stop you; you were barefoot, your hair wet, and you had barely finished putting on your dress.

You ran to greet your sister, who had bruises on her face and hands, and hugged her.

The scent of roses had dissipated a little with the dust and iron.

But your sister was fine, safe and sound.

Once you let go of her, you saw Cesare. He was dazed, with bruises on his arms and a blow to his face.

You hugged him. He still smelled of smoke.

“You’re alive! I’m glad,” Cesare joked, trying to hide how scared he had been that you wouldn’t make it back to the villa on your own.

“I can take care of myself, I told you,” you murmured with a small smile, but then you collapsed and cried your eyes out on his shoulder.

Isabella stroked your hair.

“It’s okay, mia farfalinna, I’ll take care of you,” Cesare murmured. “Nothing will ever happen to you again, ti prometto.”

But you knew he was lying.

Enzo hadn’t come back; he had gone to rescue Genaro Fontanella.

Your father was furious, and your sister and you just wanted Enzo to come back alive.

Isabella was scared, you accompanied her to her room and she told you everything, how Enzo had saved her life, then she hesitated.

“What’s wrong, Isabella?”

“Enzo and I kissed,” she said with an expression of anguish and happiness on her face.

You looked at her seriously, the bitter taste returning like a burning fire.

“Isabella, por Dio! Can’t you think of the consequences…”

“It’s all I can think about! But I can’t help it, Sorellina, I’m in love with Enzo.” Isabella lamented and reminded you of when you were little.

Your mother alwayss favored Isabella, perhaps because she was more like Momma. Maybe Cesare was right and Isabella was the Principessa and you were just a commoner.

“If you really love him, you would stay away from him. You’re putting him in danger. Do you know what Father would do to him?”

“I know, I know…” she complained through her tears.

“Then promise me you’ll stay away from him, Isabella.” You warned her, pointing at her accusingly.

Your sister looked at you fearfully, seeming to regret having told you.

“I’m sorry,” you murmured, lowering your voice and your gaze.

“No, you’re right, Sorellina, it’s for his own good. Ti prometto.” Isabella hugged you.