#{ so this happened }

[thysilus]

do all dogs drink then come directly to ur face to dribble on u or hav i jst gotten lucky so far

[jirlshi]

So this is the second time that this happens and I'm just thinking that Tumblr may actually have a curse in it, or just enough bad luck to have these two coincidences

[lyss-butterscotch]

See All Evil

Some doodles because i forgot how to draw sliver kkjkdkdksms

Also inspired by this dog

[chiclete-com-manga]

[magicalrocketships]

Rivers of Light || Max/Daniel || part 11 ||

(reminder that this in its entirety contains mpreg, reference to giving birth, Max Verstappen's bad dad, past abuse, and on-track accidents.) We're gearing up for me to be wrong about how lawyers work, just to prepare you. Unrelatedly I watched a whole six minute video about Sophie la Girafe to write this. I strongly feel I've made good choices.

All previous parts can be found in the masterpost here. This chapter is on AO3.

Bastiaan deserves friends. Maybe Daniel won't forget Bastiaan like he forgot Max. 

part 11

Bastiaan wakes up at half past five in the morning with a messy nappy that Max could have done without having to deal with only a minute after waking up. 

He and Bastiaan wear identical frowns of disapproval as Max changes him, and Bastiaan's doesn't go away until he's in a fresh nappy and a clean little babygro. Max's doesn't go away until the dirty nappy is double bagged and in the bin in the bathroom. He washes his hands and tries not to look at his exhausted reflection looking back at him. 

"Is this why you were so sad earlier, little baby?" Max asks, undoing the belt on the hotel changing table so he can scoop Bastiaan up and tuck him up against his chest. He presses kisses to Bastiaan's hair. "Did your tummy hurt and you couldn't tell me? That must have been very frustrating, I would have been crying too. It's hard being a little baby, isn't it?" He lets Bastiaan wrap his little hand around Max's finger. It's so early. He'd like to go back to sleep, but Bastiaan seems too awake for that. He's never slept past six, not once in his whole little life. Max doubts he's going to start today.

Max yawns. He needs about 50% more sleep than he's getting, but he can cope. He always has before. 

"Let's see if we can play quietly so we don't wake up our friend Daniel, shall we?" he suggests, carrying Bastiaan back into the bedroom. He turns the lamp on before he gets back into bed, then holds Bastiaan up so that he's step-step-stepping on Max's lap. His little marching baby. 

Bastiaan's giraffe is called Sophie and she squeaks. She's still on the bed from when it was their failed playtime in the middle of the night, and Max tucks Bastiaan into the curve of his arm and makes Sophie squeak so that Bastiaan's mouth curves up in a smile. He hasn't been smiling very long. Last week he wasn't doing it at all. This week he is. Max kisses him. He boops him on the nose with the giraffe, then with Daniel's soft pink rabbit. Bastiaan is, for a short while, content. 

It's good because Max is so tired he could cry. He tries not to yawn too loudly. The idea of him having to deal with Bastiaan on a plane by himself is awful; at least in the car with Daniel they might both be able to sleep even if the journey takes longer.

When he looks over at Daniel to see if he's still asleep, Daniel's watching him. 

"We woke you up," Max says. 

"Doesn't matter," Daniel says, sitting up. "I don't mind keeping you company. If I make a coffee first can I have a hold of him?"

Max nods. Bastiaan deserves friends. Maybe Daniel won't forget Bastiaan like he forgot Max. 

"Do you want anything?" Daniel asks. He's putting the kettle on for him, but he's pointing at the fridge. "I think there's a Coca-Cola."

Max could do with some caffeine. Daniel brings him a cold can and disappears into the bathroom while the kettle boils. Max listens to the toilet flush as he makes Sophie dance for Bastiaan. Daniel comes back out brushing his teeth as the kettle finishes boiling, and he does something with a mug and the hospitality tray before going back into the bathroom to spit his toothpaste out. Then he brings his mug over to Max's bed, puts it down on the other bedside table, and moves the carrycot out of the way so he can sit down. Then he holds his hands out for Bastiaan. 

"I'm ready," he says. "It's baby time. Give me my baby."

"My baby," Max says, unable to help himself, but he hands Bastiaan over anyway. 

Daniel makes a series of very silly faces at Bastiaan and gives him a little kiss. "Hello, baby. Are you feeling better this morning? After keeping your daddy awake? What a nice smile you've got. A very handsome baby. Yes, you are."

Max shuffles down on the pillows so he can get comfortable and lie down. Daniel winks at him, and Max ignores the spreading warmth in his chest. Daniel had forgotten him after his accident. Everyone had. The only person who'd stayed around had been Max's dad, and he'd resented Max for it, being stuck looking after him after he'd fucked it all up. Everyone had wanted a winner, he'd said, and Max hadn't won. No wonder everyone had left him behind. 

"Don't you look like your daddy, hey?" Daniel goes on, still making silly faces. "Yes, that's right, what a good smile. No wonder he thinks you're a lovely baby. You are, aren't you?" He turns to Max. "Is he too little for peekaboo?"

"I don't know." Max hasn't played it with him. He's not sure how to.

"You do it," Daniel says, angling Bastiaan towards Max. "Hide your face, Max. Just behind your hands. That's right Bastiaan, where's Daddy gone? Where's he gone? Oh, there he is. Peekaboo."

Bastiaan's smiling. Daniel's smiling. 

Max wants to bury his face in the sheets and sob. 

&&&

They go down for an early breakfast in the end. Better to try it while Bastiaan's not fussing, and even though Max in his old life never really bothered with breakfast, he's got more used to having it recently, and since Bastiaan was born he'll take food whenever he can get it. 

They're given a table by the window, and there's space for Bastiaan's car seat pushchair. He starts fussing as soon as Daniel orders his pot of coffee, so Max ends up bundling him up out of the seat and into his arms. So much for investigating the breakfast buffet. 

"Come on," Daniel says. "We'll tag team it. You can hold the baby and we'll go around and you can tell me what you want, I'll make the plate, and then I'll go back around for me."

Max is too tired to dig into that. He ends up trailing Daniel around the breakfast buffet with Bastiaan as Daniel mangles French just to make him laugh. No, Max doesn't want flocon d'avoine with his plate of cheese and bread and salt-flecked butter, but he will take a couple of mini viennoiseries after Daniel makes a garbled attempt to offer him pastries. Daniel must have lived in Monaco too long to be this bad at French, but Max has been told that not everybody finds languages as straightforward as he does. Maybe he's just doing it to make Max laugh. He shepherds Max back towards their table, only stopping along the way to get Max a glass of apple juice.

"Sit down and eat that," Daniel says, before disappearing back to get himself breakfast. He comes back a few minutes later bearing a protein-heavy plate and a bowl of fruit and grains. "Just be glad I didn't treat myself to the yogurt," he says, sitting down and making another stupid face at Bastiaan, who frowns back at him. "You do not want to be in a car with me for eight hours after I've had that." 

Max agrees. He's travelled with Daniel before, and Daniel can make the worst smells known in existence in a confined space if too enthusiastic with his dairy consumption. "No dairy," he says, and brushes a pastry crumb from the top of Bastiaan's head. Bastiaan's crumb-free existence remains a distant dream. It's okay. Bastiaan's favourite place is with Max and Max's favourite place is with Bastiaan. It's worth a few crumbs. 

Bastiaan sneezes. It surprises him so much he ends up looking at Max in frowning outrage. 

"That was a big noise for a little baby," Max tells him. "A noise as big as you are, wasn't it?" 

Bastiaan looks decidedly put out. Max can understand. Everything's very new if you're this tiny. Even things like sneezes are an experience. He lets Bastiaan wrap his little hand around Max's finger. 

"Émeric just messaged me," Daniel says, interrupting Max and Bastiaan. "My lawyer. Our lawyer, I guess. He says he can fit you for a call at eight, which is okay because we can leave after that. Or whenever. If you and Bastiaan need more time I can get us late check out." 

Max blinks at him. His brain takes a moment to catch up. He's too busy thinking about how strange a sneeze must be if you don't know what one is. 

Daniel checks his phone again. "He's been through your contract, he's got some questions. Eight's fine, right?"

"Yes," Max says, even though he hasn't been through the contract yet. This is the thing he wants most in the world that isn't his baby, and he'd forgotten he'd have to go through the contract Cyril had given him last night. His brain feels like fluff. He needs to get better and more on top of shit, but he doesn't know how to swim faster through the mire. Sometimes he feels like he's drowning. "I should have read it last night."

Daniel shakes his head. "You were fucking exhausted." He glances at Bastiaan. "Sorry, baby, but your daddy was."

Bastiaan isn't paying attention. He's starting to chew on his fist. Max is going to have to eat faster and go back upstairs to feed him. That's even less time to read the contract. He used to go into meetings ready to pick things to pieces. This time he's forgotten he even had it to read. He's always been in control before. He's always known what he wanted and what he was willing to give to get it. He's always put the hours in and come out winning. He hasn't felt like that in a long time. That version of himself feels like a stranger. He doesn't know how to find it again. 

"It doesn't matter," Daniel's saying. "Don't worry. He's not going to let you sign anything that's shit, and he's definitely not going to let you sign anything today even if it's perfect. Anyway, you don't have to have read all of it to have an intro call with him. It's just the first conversation."

Max looks down at his plate. He doesn't know what to say. 

"Eat your breakfast," Daniel says. "I know Bastiaan's hungry. Anything you don't get to finish I'll ask them to box up and I'll bring it up for you. It's okay, Max. It's okay."

Max kisses Bastiaan's head. Things haven't been okay for a long time. He doesn't remember when they last were.

"All right," he says finally, and when he looks up, Daniel's watching him. 

"Good," Daniel says, after a moment, and winks at Max's baby. 

[alexandor]

Hey, Hey, Herbs and Homies!

Today.

We will be sneaking...

INTO THE ABATTOIR

[peachpety]

Two Hits

Me hitting you…

Because fuck you, Harry Potter.

And your soulful green eyes, always watching.

You easily catch my fist and slam my back against Hogwarts bricks.

“Fuck you, Malfoy.”

I lean in and deliver my words into your mouth with my tongue.

“Fuck me yourself.”

…You hitting the ground.

***

9 june prompt: ground

a part of my Microfic, I Love You collection 50 words || prompts by @drarrymicrofic

[madhels-enby-boyfriend]

The random shit that is about to follow was brought to you by sleep deprivation, escapism, and my best friend jokingly saying that she can’t keep up with my many wives and girlfriends (and their wives and girlfriends) and needs a list at this point 😁🙂‍↕️

Anyway, meet the polycule:

This is my husband Robyn, dancing with her girlfriend Sharon

This is our girlfriend, Joanne, who currently isn’t entirely sure if she’s still married to someone

And these are our wives, Lilia and Avis, who are also married. Lilia has a whole coven of girlfriends and Avis.. well we’ve lost count of her many girlfriends and flings

That is my wife, Helena, who is currently in a toxic situationship with her rival, Elizabeth Arden… (their situationship predates our marriage… they may be the slowest slowburn in the history of slowburns… also don’t tell my wife I said her name out loud)

And these are my girlfriends Kitty, Lucía and Fosca who are also dating one another and possibly Avis… we’re not entirely sure

(If anyone wants to introduce me to their polycule I’m all ears 👀🙂‍↕️)

[mrrecaswife]

In case I don't see you, good afternoon, good evening and good night.

(cw: mention of reader death, all in all general angst, presence of oc should you squint, talking about oc, do you guys want a full written character sheet about my two hsr ocs?? Also, did you get the reference? If you did, have a 🍪)

if the theory that Mr Reca is a cremator in the MemoKeepers is true, then he'd surely burn all the 'uninteresting' memories and only keep the 'good parts' for his works.

Except those including you. Especially those including you.

For some reason, especially if you have left him in any kind of way, he can't seem to even want to touch them, prefering to gaze solemnly at those fragments of your life. It's such a drastic change that his Assistant Director and everyone else around him cannot help but notice.

He can't touch them. It sickens him to his core to even think about it, as if he would have committed something unforgivable if he did.

So he doesn't. Instead, he puts those memories on repeat only for his eyes to see.

(He misses you. More than what anyone could imagine. Even that strange friend of yours, as much as he enjoys the company, cannot seem to tear him from them.

He sees the glimpse of an empathetic gaze, but doesn't comment on it nor budges. That girl probably considers this as part of her data to collect. (She doesn't, and he knows, but he can't get over the fact that you had to leave)

He really hates the fact that you had a mortal body that had to decay.)

[thysilus]

this year’s dyke day experience

[heart-wit-strength]

She got it from her wives that love her for just being kinda mid <3

Taglist: @hey-its-puddlesock @blightcedas @yourpersonaltimebomb @darcysd20 @lili250307 @amisplacedalphabet

[pinkcaraz]

where's the trophy? || sinnettini (the alchemy - taylor swift)

[blummberg]

Today's magma

[stararch4ngelqueen]

Low-Rise Melancholy

—

Time written- 11:33 p.m (Pt.2)

Jason Todd/fem!reader angst

—

You found him curled up in bed, unmoving for quite some time.

He arrived home, but said nothing. He shuffled out of uniform, carelessly abandoning piece by piece of his gear on various surfaces, carelessly draping his jacket over the closest chair.

He had enough mind to at least settle his utility belt and weapons on the desk in your shared bedroom before shuffling to bed, climbing into the mattress with so much as a slow, heavy exhale.

You had witnessed this since the moment he came home, feeling the tension shroud your shoulders before he even as entered through the door. Along with his angry episodes, which he kept out of your way around ninety percent of the time, every once in a while, you’d be witness to a violent slip up.

You followed behind the giant man like a scared puppy, stopping at the bedroom doorway just in time for him to turn on his side, his back now facing you.

He hasn’t moved for a fair hour, rendering you nervous rather than relieved he wasn’t angry. An hour full of checking up on him, wondering if he was ready to eat or talk. Anything.

He said nothing, as per usual, but answered your concerned question via raising his arm out, extending his hand out with an open palm. Would you like me to stay with you?

You settle your arms around him from behind as best you could once you slip into bed, enjoying the warmth that radiated off his back when you held him.

Just like before, Jason said nothing, broad shoulders rising and falling as his heavy lidded gaze nearly caged his eyes behind long lashes, vision long since unfocused after hours of reckless thoughts and dangerous intentions he’s always battled with after patrol.

His eyes close fully, a short, defeated exhale leaving his nose. Still, he doesn’t move, not even when he feels your soft, small hands cradle along his sides, caressing him in a largely limited embrace.

You’re always worried when he gets like this, but your options in soothing his pain were limited.

Your vigilante, your hero, your Red Hood, who refused to acknowledge your presence. Never intentionally.

You wanted nothing more than the man who stole your heart and gave it back but promised to hold it.

Jason Todd; your boyfriend, your big, red cuddly bear, your gentle giant sweetheart.

You wanted to be a strong shoulder for him to cry on, but in this case, you blamed your tensed up morning shortly followed by a series of severely unlucky events.

A short tremor of his shoulders caught you by surprise, making your head raise in question after settling behind Jason for nearly eight minutes. After a moment of waiting, to your dismay, you hear a small shudder from the exhausted man you held in your arms.

It broke your heart once you pinpointed those signs all together, realizing what Jason had been doing this entire time since he arrived home.

A ball of tension grew hotter in your throat, your eyes flushed so full with tears.

His teary, glistening eyes opened upon hearing your tiny hiccup, his head shifting up from its concave perch along your pillow to meet your gaze. His own heart ripped into two at the pitiful little attempt to stop yourself from crying, but you couldn’t help it.

“I-I’m sorry,” you whimper, small fingers involuntarily clasping along the hem of his grey shirt for a second or two.

When Jason approached the border of tears, his mouth didn’t curl with a strong lip quiver. Instead, his brows furrowed, his eyes nearly squinting in a pitiful attempt to make the tears halt and retreat.

All will to fight left him once he got home, himself included.

Now, all that flooded his heart was an overwhelming, bitter guilt, forcing him out of his melancholy to register the woman who’s bed he laid on for nearly two hours.

He shifts completely, encasing you in his warm, heavy arms, stroking back wisps of stray hair to peer down at you with worried, furrowed expression.

Were you scared? Were you scared of him getting angry and violent? Images of your terrified face after such an episode were burned into his mind, and a face full of tears was at the top of that crude list.

“No, no,” Jason insists as he puts up a battle once more, fighting back what tears he could. “Don’t say you’re sorry. Don’t.. I— Shit, I didn’t mean to—“

His voice fails, his tone trembling in seconds. His own attempt at rebuilding his crumbled walls failed, leaving cascades of fluttery dust over piles of pebbles.

“M’sorry,” Jason mutters to you, sniffling noses brushing against each other. “Didn’t mean to make you sad. Don’t.. Don’t cry, babygirl. It’s not your fault.”

“It’s not yours either,” your whimpering tone persists, feeling his fingers cradle the back of your head, smoothing down your hair while yours cling to his shirt collar, insisting that you could handle his pain, shoulder it with him.

His mood swings were never his fault. His death was never his fault. His moments where he shut down entirely, leaving you completely powerless to aid him from the shadows, any of it, all of it, wasn’t his pain to shoulder in general.

You wished you could take it all away, but you believed you could only do so much.

“I don’t know how to help you,” you tremble as you admit to him, watching his brows curl downwards in further distress to your confession, your eyes glassy with grief bordering on defeat.

“I want to help you, Jason. I do. Please, tell me how.”

You only knew what he shared with you in the past, so you understood enough. His complications with himself, the curse of hyper individualism rendering him towards a plethora of self doubt, no matter how much he wanted to defy it. He just didn’t know how.

You wanted to be strong for him, but feared you weren’t as tough as you wanted to be.

Jason didn’t want strong, even though he knew you were. he wanted permanence, superglued stability on both of your behalf.

His hand cradled your head against his shoulder, taking in the sweetness of your hair, the warmth of your body dressed in one of his loose fitting shirts, curtesy of you stealing his clothes every evening.

The echo of your heartbeat keeping you alive long enough for you to adore him, to cherish him, to love him like no other he had ever felt before. This returns him towards his quiet tears, but unlike before, he allows himself the freedom to express himself more.

Grief included.

“You just being here… helps, okay?” Jason whispers, cradling your face in his warm palm. “That’s it. That’s all you need to do. Just… don’t leave. Please.”

Please, don’t leave me alone.

Your fingers instantly trail up towards his cheeks, catching his tears in the cradle of your palms. For a moment, your guilty, defeated expression shifted towards one he recognized instantly.

Strong, filled with a temporary determination he recognized many times before when you refused to give up. You refused to give him up.

Those were the eyes he fell in love with, belonging to the woman who desired to help him. His sore heart ached at your persistence, craving that just as much as your eagerly awaiting love.

His shoulders shake, his breathing grows raggedy, shortly cut and uneven. A few of his tears caught along the strands of your hair, the rest seeping down onto the very same pillowcase that harbored most of tonight’s anger and frustration.

His head settled against your chest, relying on your strong heartbeat to keep him submerged in pure sleep. His heavily scarred hands remained stagnant around your waist, thumbs lightly swirling along bare skin while yours settled to comb through his inky, tussled locks.

For the next hour or so, you held one another, cradling each other as the tears long since run dry, leaving two tender bodies submerged in a thin veil of slumber.

Crying together was the last thing on both of your minds tonight, but it’s the most Jason had ever felt accidentally understood, especially now as he refuses to let go of his anchor.

Seen, heard, recognized, loved.

Alive.

[corvus-divum]

Felt down and decided to doodle something before reaching out to people again once I can talk (The other dude is my OC: Resound. I posted about him a couple of days back)