#I do not know how it happened

[qwerty019283ytrewq]

I came up with it yesterday, well, the details, I came up with it yesterday, the plot itself has been with me for a long time.

It's going to be so sweet now that your teeth will rot in a second, and the plush will tickle your nose for three days. The unicorn is in fear. He knows that he will flood three cities and six villages with shining tears.

✨️Imagine✨️

The story should be about their long for each other. Max and Daniel are still drivers. They are very close friends, but nothing more. heh.

It was a great day off, a break between two races, Max was sleeping the best he could when Daniel decided to ruin his day at 7 a.m. Somehow, magically, Max manages to get out of bed, get to the door, and not kill this jerk. He even notices that Daniel looks pretty at 7 a.m. 7 o'clock in the morning!!! What the hell?!

"Daniel, what are you doing here? Why is it so early? If it's because of the fabric samples for your merch or you went out for a run and decided to take me, then there will be 19 pilots on the starting grid."

"I'm totally fucked." Dan answers, and only now does the Dutch notice that besides looking great, he also looks like he's desperate.

"Isabella wants a princess-style party, and I'm so upset that I'm going to miss everything again...It was such a stupid thought, but I miss them so much, and now she, they're all going to hate me."

"Red Bull"

"What? What the... "

"Give me a drink of Red Bull, and I'll listen to the whole story, not just your lamentations."

That's what it turned out to be. During another call, Isabella said she wanted a birthday party in the style of a Disney princess. Daniel, being gentle and loving, feeling a great sense of guilt that he spends too little time with his family, didn't hesitate to announce that he would bring everyone to Monaco, they would watch the race and after that, Isabella would get her best birthday party.

Only now, Dan doesn't know how to arrange a birthday for a little girl, he doesn't know what kind of princess she is talking about, and if he arranges tickets from Australia to Monaco, passes to the Paddock, then happy holidays...He's so fucked up.

Max sighs and rolls his eyes. Daniel is so soft when it comes to family.

"We'll have to save this, you idiot"

First of all, they decide to find out which princess they are talking about. Rapunzel. Dan says that you can't just figure out the name of the character. You need to understand the essence. So they end up on Max's couch watching a cartoon for little girls. Not even Cars. Or The monster corporation. Rapunzel. He is a Formula 1 racer. He has already won 3 titles and has more than 50 Grand Prix victories. He watches as the chamelion on the screen puts his tongue in the guy's ear, and the girl is afraid to leave the house, although she dreamed about it yesterday. Somewhere on the edge of Max's brain, a question appears. Did seventeen-year-old Dan feel something like that when he left for Europe? And the rest of the mind laughs at one of the portraits of the thief in the cartoon because "Look, Daniel, his nose is very similar to yours!" For the last thought, Max gets a pillow in his face.

A week passes. During this time, Dan managed to book tickets, not without the help of Max, he came up with and organized the whole holiday. Of the guests, however, only the family will be there, but Isabella isn't too upset by this thought. She was promised a chameleon. Michelle, Daniel's sister, really doesn't know about it yet.

During the race weekend, Max arrives at the Red Bull hospitality and realizes from the giggling whispers that the Ricciardo family is already here. Why the giggling whispers, you ask. And you saw Dan with a baby in each hand? That's it. Max, as always (CANON), goes to say hello. Grace hugs and kisses him on both cheeks, Joe shakes his hand tightly and pats him on the shoulder, Michelle and her husband greet, Isaac gives Max a high five, and sweet Izzy stands next to Daniel, looks confused and worried, holds her uncle's hand and looks at Max.

"Hello, Isabella."

"Hi Max."

"Come on, princess, what did you want to say to give to Max?" Dan speaks softly to his niece.

The girl takes a postcard out of her small purse and hands it to Max. For some reason, Daniel also looks worried, as if this is his postcard, and if Max opens it now, it will be written there...Hush, Max... This is just your nonsense...

The postcard is pink and purple, with a yellow sun. Max swallows. He knows this picture. He helped hang a garland with flags with a similar pattern on a yacht rented by Dan for a children's party. He glances at Daniel, who is holding Isabella's hand with one hand and nibbling on the other...More precisely, the cuticle on the thumb. Max opens the postcard, and there are neat but too big children's letters.

The inscription reads: "Sir Max Emilian Verstappen, Princess of the Australian continent from the house of Riccardo (yes, yes, I know that the surname should be different, just skip this), the first of her name, invites you to her birthday." The place on the postcard has run out, so at the very bottom, in small letters (clearly in an adult handwriting, Max kind of recognizes this handwriting), it says "Uncle Daniel will tell you the details."

Max has to clear his throat and blink hard a couple of times.

"This is... this...Thank you, Isabella...Or Your Highness. I...Of course I will come."

Isabella jumps with delight and claps her hands.

"Cool!!! Uncle Daniel will tell you where it will be and when, because I don't know myself yet."

As Dan's family later finds out. And as Max knew from the very beginning. It's a yacht. To Max's taste, it's big and ridiculous, but Isabella squeals with joy.

"Are we going to ride her?!" Her princess dress rustles with expensive fabrics, and flowers made of precious stones sparkle in the light of the lights of the still huge and wonderful yacht.

Daniel also seems childishly excited, grabs his niece's hand, and they finally climb onto the deck. The Australian did his best. He did everything to make Izzy's appearance as similar as possible to the appearance of the princess from the cartoon, and the holiday program was just crazy. Daniel himself put on cream suit trousers and an aquamarine waistcoat to look like Eugene. His curls and nose certainly distinguished him from the cartoon character, but no one objected, especially Max. The Dutch is more surprised how two pieces of clothing from completely different costumes can look so good on Dan. Maybe it's not the clothes. Take it easy, Max, take it easy. He undid one button on his shirt and held out his hand to Grace to help her on board.

The holiday program began with the words, "Do you have a dream, Isabella?" Then it was up to the animators, some group that agreed to play songs from a Disney cartoon, and Daniel's enthusiasm. Grace, Joe, Isaac, Michelle, Tom (let's say that's the name of Michelle's husband in this story), and of course Max also took part in separate programs. Take fencing on pans, for example. Max got so into the taste, and Dan cheated and tickled him so much that Max almost hit him like in a cartoon. Absolutely by accident, honestly.

Max had been to royal receptions before... He likes this one the most. Especially because of how Daniel is beaming with pride and joy that he organized all this. From the yacht to the last apple on the table. Well, it's not like Blake's help wasn't needed at all. And, of course, Dan didn't pull the yacht out of the hat with a magic wand. There's another wizard there. He has a magic snowboard... And the magical wife, who is the sister of Max and Dan's colleague. (Well, you get it)

And here is the most important point. The cake should be served. It should be big and ridiculous, like a yacht. Daniel looks lost, Max knows that he needs to distract Isabella so that the cake can be taken out, but it seems Dan forgot to entrust it to someone.

"I saw a dolphin!" Max speaks and everyone looks at him.

"It can't be! Where?!" Isabelle screams, grabs his hand (because she can't go out on the open deck alone), and pulls him with her onto the open deck. They run out and approach the handrails.

"Where were the dolphins?"

"Somewhere in the water." Well done, buddy, keep it up.

Izzy calms down a little and looks at the water surface.

"It's beautiful here"

"Did you enjoy your holiday?"

"It was so great!!! Do you think Uncle Danny can do something like this for Christmas?"

Before Max can answer, he notices a light behind the girl. It's a paper flashlight... And then another one... And then the music appeared, which was playing faintly in the background, and now it sounds loud and clear.

All those days watching from the windows,

All those years outside looking in All that time never even knowing...

Daniel appears like a dream on deck and... He takes Izzy away to dance. The rest of Riccardo appear on the deck, dancing, in pairs, not in pairs, everything is beautiful, cute and magical, Max stands there and takes his breath away and something gets in his eye. He rubs his eye, and when he looks up again, Dan is standing in front of him, smiling his little, special smile and holding out his hand. And to hell with everything! Max smiles back and accepts his invitation.

They're dancing, the atmosphere is like that... magical... they don't want to say. They just dance, look into each other's eyes, and smile. Max has angels singing in his head. He wants to stay in this moment so much...

All those years living in a blur

All that time never truly seeing

Things, the way they were

Now he’s here shining in the starlight

Now he’s here, suddenly I know

If he’s here it’s crystal clear

I’m where I’m meant to go

Daniel sang

KISS!!!

Max wraps his arms around Daniel's face and KISSES him!!!

When they finally broke away from each other, when they leaned their foreheads against each other...

"You used your niece's birthday to admit that...Well..."

Daniel laughs softly and kisses him on the lips. Someone is tugging at Dan's waistcoat.

"Can we finally call him Uncle?"

This title is more expensive for Max than an officer's.

A month later

"What do you mean it was Isabella's plan?!?!"

[apricusapollo]

I think I might have opened my very first firstprince fanfic with henry trying to convert alex to dinluke 🚶‍♀️

[zytes]

this manatee looks like it’s in a skyrim loading screen

[cyancees]

i have neither a good imagination nor aphantasia, but a secret third thing

[inkskinned]

because sometimes there are invisible tests and invisible rules and you're just supposed to ... know the rule. someone you thought of as a friend asks you for book recommendations, so you give her a list of like 30 books, each with a brief blurb and why you like it. later, you find out she screenshotted the list and send it out to a group chat with the note: what an absolute freak can you believe this. you saw the responses: emojis where people are rolling over laughing. too much and obsessive and actually kind of creepy in the comments. you thought you'd been doing the right thing. she'd asked, right? an invisible rule: this is what happens when you get too excited.

you aren't supposed to laugh at your own jokes, so you don't, but then you're too serious. you're not supposed to be too loud, but then people say you're too quiet. you aren't supposed to get passionate about things, but then you're shy, boring. you aren't supposed to talk too much, but then people are mad when you're not good at replying.

you fold yourself into a prettier paper crane. since you never know what is "selfish" and what is "charity," you give yourself over, fully. you'd rather be empty and over-generous - you'd rather eat your own boundaries than have even one person believe that you're mean. since you don't know what the thing is that will make them hate you, you simply scrub yourself clean of any form of roughness. if you are perfect and smiling and funny, they can love you. if you are always there for them and never admit what's happening and never mention your past and never make them uncomfortable - you can make up for it. you can earn it.

don't fuck up. they're all testing you, always. they're tolerating you. whatever secret club happened, over a summer somewhere - during some activity you didn't get to attend - everyone else just... figured it out. like they got some kind of award or examination that allowed them to know how-to-be-normal. how to fit. and for the rest of your life, you've been playing catch-up. you've been trying to prove that - haha! you get it! that the joke they're telling, the people they are, the manual they got- yeah, you've totally read it.

if you can just divide yourself in two - the lovable one, and the one that is you - you can do this. you can walk the line. they can laugh and accept you. if you are always-balanced, never burdensome, a delight to have in class, champagne and glittering and never gawky or florescent or god-forbid cringe: you can get away with it.

you stare at your therapist, whom you can make jokes with, and who laughs at your jokes, because you are so fucking good at people-pleasing. you smile at her, and she asks you how you're doing, and you automatically say i'm good, thanks, how are you? while the answer swims somewhere in your little lizard brain:

how long have you been doing this now? mastering the art of your body and mind like you're piloting a puppet. has it worked? what do you mean that all you feel is... just exhausted. pick yourself up, the tightrope has no net. after all, you're cheating, somehow, but nobody seems to know you actually flunked the test. it's working!

aren't you happy yet?

[krysmcscience]

I have some questions about karaoke night, Alex Hirsch. Very Important Questions. Which I will happily scream at a poor hapless baby triangle who can have no answers for me, and possibly also does not have object permanence yet.

Follow-up that is I guess suggestive, but let's be real here, Bill's a fucking triangle:

Dude slipped right into his birthday suit, lmao

this is so stupid :D

Anyway, I don't care what anyone says, this brilliant individual knows what's up - Bill is absolutely way more of a monsterfucker than Ford could or ever will be, full stop.

[hinamie]

to moving forward

[televisionforwhales]

Some ppl are like "I'm a kinky sex-positive pervert freak!!!" and then make fun of virgins and asexuals..... sure, reclaim freakiness but keep working on that because teasing ppl for their sex lives (or lack thereof) is, unfortunately, very normie mainstream vanilla behaviour. the right to sexual determination includes NOT having sex. 101 shit. Like this isnt subversive dude, it's using the edge of an ideology for bullying

[snekky-arts]

so the bright side of not being able to sleep is that you occasionally get something done in one sitting in a reasonable amount of time

aka: i didn't plan this, i don't know what this is, take it or leave it, i kinda like it

1 - 2 - 3 - 4 - 5 - 6

[heartorbit]

searching for a star that's still unknown to anyone!

[cattnipt]

Fucked up looking dog you got there

[shivunin]

Because I have just seen this specific thing for the second time, I would like to say:

If I reblog your art, I do not expect you to reblog (or share!) my fic in return

If I comment on your fic, I do not expect you to comment on (or read!) mine in return

My enjoyment of anyone's work does not come with strings or expectations

My friendship is not a bill that you will have to pay later

That's it!

[bugcatcherkit]

Man that sure is a Situation where two 14 year olds push the limits of each other’s trauma responses until they both reach extreme breaking points. and then they deal with the aftermath basically all by themselves. Isn't that super awesome and totally not kinda fucked up at all.

[poorly-drawn-mdzs]

Thanks for listening to my sad backstory. Anyway, here's Wonderwall.

[First] Prev <–-> Next

[inkskinned]

the thing about some men is that they want you to remember, at all times, that you are underneath them. that with one word or look or "joke", you will stay beneath them. that even "exceptions" to the rule are not true exceptions - the commonly cited statistic that one in eight men believe they could win against serena williams.

women's gymnastics is often not seen as real gymnastics. whatever the fuck non-euclidian horrors rhythmic gymnasts are capable of, it's often tamped down as being not a sport. some of the most dominant athletes in the world are women. nobody watches women's soccer. despite years of dancing and being built like a fucking brick, men always assume they're faster and stronger than i am. you wouldn't like what happens when they are incorrect. once while drunk at a guy's house i won a held-plank challenge by a solid minute. the party was over after that - he became exceedingly violent.

what i mean is that you can be perfect, and they still think you're ... lacking, somehow. i hope you understand i'm trying to express a neutral statement when i say: taylor swift was the possibly the most patriarchy-palatable, straight-down-the-line woman we could churn out. she is white, conventionally attractive, usually pretty mild in personality. say what you will about her (and you should, she's a billionaire, she can handle it), but a few things seem to be true about her: 1. she can write a damn catchy song, and 2. the eras tour truly was a massive commercial success and was also genuinely an impressive feat of human athleticism and performance.

i don't know if she deserves the title of "woman of the year," i'm not debating that in this post. what i am saying is that she was named Woman of The Year, and then an untalented man got onstage at the golden globes and made fun of her for attending her boyfriend's football games. what i am saying is that this woman altered local economies - and her dating life is still being made into a "harmless" punchline. the camera panned, greedy, over to her downing a full glass of champagne. congratulations taylor! you are woman of the year! but you are a woman. even her.

fuck, man. write better material.

a guy gets onstage at a college graduation and despite the fact like half the crowd is made up of women, he spends a significant proportion of it warning these people - who spent possibly hundreds of thousands of dollars on their education - that they were lied to. that the "real" meaning of femininity is motherhood. that they shouldn't rest on the laurels of that education-they-paid-for but instead throw it away to kneel at a man's heel. imagine that. sweating in your godawful polyester gown (that you also had to pay for!), fresh out of 4 years of pushing yourself ever-harder: and some guy you've never met - who knows nothing about you - he reminds you this "win" is a pyrrhic one at best. you really shouldn't consider yourself that extraordinary. you're still a woman, even after years of study.

god forbid you are not a pretty woman, but if you are pretty, you must be dumb. god forbid you are not ablebodied or white or cis or straight or good at swallowing. you must be beneath a man, or else they are not a man. the equation for masculinity seems to just be: that which is not a woman or womanly (god forbid). anything "feminine" is thereby anathema. to engage in "feminine" things such as therapy, getting a hug from a friend, or crying - it is giving up ones manhood. therefore women need to be put in their place to ensure that masculinity is protected.

this is something i have struggled to explain to terfs - they are not doing the work of feminism, but rather the patriarchy. by asserting that women and men must be (on some secret level) oppositional and in conflict, they also assume that being a woman is akin to being another species. but bigotry does not stem from observational truths or clarity - that is what makes it bigotry. there was nothing in my childhood that made me fundamentally different from my brother. we are treated differently nonetheless. to assert there is some biological drive that enforces my gender role is to assert that women have a gendered role. men do not see women as equal to them not because of biological reality - but instead because the core tenant of the patriarchy is that women aren't full, realized people.

we are told from a very young age to excuse misbehavior as a single man's choice - not all men. it is not all men, just that one guy. all women are gold-digging bitches who belong in the kitchen - but if a man is mean, bigoted, or violent to you, it's just that particular guy, and that means nothing about men-as-a-whole. it is only one guy who got mad when you gently rejected him. it is only one guy who warns her this trophy is heavy, are you sure you can hold it? it is only one guy who smashes her face into the cake. it is only one guy talking into a mic about hating our bodily autonomy.

i have just found that they often wait until the moment we actually seem to be upstaging them. you sit in a meeting where you're presenting your own findings and he says get me a coffee? or you run to the end of the marathon and are about to finish first and he pushes your kids out in front of you. you win the chess game and they make some comment akin to well, you're ugly away. we can be the billionaire and get the dream life and finally fucking do it and yet! still! they have this strange, visceral urge to say well actually, if you think you're so great -

it's not one just one guy. it's one in eight.

[egophiliac]

Since book 7 part 5 (the part where we meet Meleanor/Maleanor 👀) is coming to EN this month, i would love to see your take on lilia’s proposal to meleanor! i mean they were like little kids right? it couldn’t have been that serious…i think the only reason she even brought it up again is because she could tell lilia still genuinely loved her…(even if he didn’t realize it himself?) but, oh well! Let’s think about silly childhood shenanigans to numb the pain! ^_^ (orz)

oh shit?! get ready for a doozy guys, it's comiiiiiing ᕕ( ᐛ )ᕗ

I chickened out of posting the whole thing (look, I get VERY carried away when it comes to these wacky kids and their Tragedy), but I do believe that it probably ended with Lilia getting embarrassed and just shoving the first thing he sees into his mouth to try and cover for it.

(we're just lucky it wasn't a frog this time)