#and I think that’s the funniest fucking thing I’ve ever seen

[sinkthoseshipspoll]

I actually have been sitting here thinking about Viking Fury at Kings Island all day! Actually kings island also had that smurfs boat ride too, but I think that was replaced by the scooby doo ride that’s now boo blasters at boo hill lol.

Okay someone please submit the love tunnel Garfield dark ride from Kennywood tho. That’s a boat ride for sure 😂

[nosleep83]

THEIR FACES HERE BYE GUYS

[untimelyambition]

OHOHOHOHOHO I FUCKING LOVE GENERATION LOSS

[monzabee]

prison for life - mv1

masterlist ||

Summary: The one where if anybody hurts you, Max is going to prison for life.

Pairing: max verstappen x pregnant!reader 

Word Count: 3.9k

Warnings: fluff, pregnancy, mentions of throwing up, cursing, kinda angsty in some places, jos verstappen

Author’s Note: hi, hey, hello!! i’ve been in such a max mood recently that is actually shocking to me, but i just needed some fluffy anything after working on smutty pieces for weeks. i got this idea in my dream and honestly i think it turned out better than i could’ve imagined!! feedback is always appreciated, and my requests are currently open if you want to check that out, i hope you guys enjoy! good morning, noon or night wherever you are, xoxobee

Please also note that all of my works are protected under copyright, and not available for reposting on other platforms. 

If you would have to choose a word to describe Max, it would be ‘overprotective’, because that’s what he is. It’s not a bad thing, per say. He isn’t overbearing or controlling at all, but he is simply overprotective. And if you thought he was overprotective when the two of you were dating or when you first got married, you have to admit that you were not, at all, prepared for his protectiveness when you told him that you were pregnant. Apart from his initial meltdown over becoming a dad, or rather becoming like his own father, Max has been pretty chill about the whole thing – with the exception being your safety, of course. The underlying problem isn’t the fact that you’re some sort of daredevil because you’re not, the problem is the fact that Max believes that everything is out to get you. 

The olives you wanted to eat for breakfast? Choking hazard.  

The candles you bought for the living room (to be purely decorative, but still)? Fire hazard.  

The pool lounger Victoria thought would be a cute addition to the pool? Drowning hazard.  

The seatbelt in his car that is surprisingly tight? Could be all three, according to Max, given the right (or wrong) circumstances.  

So, yeah, maybe he wasn’t that scared of becoming a dad, but he was surely scared of you being in danger. That’s why you agreed to stay back for the most races this year – you knew he didn’t need to worry about you or your baby’s safety on top of the stress he had to deal with during the usual racing weekend. That was until you realised how much you would miss your boyfriend after almost a month of not seeing him due to a triple header. And so, you did the thing any person with a common sense would do – flying out to see him without telling him beforehand, because what’s the fun in that?  

The sheer look of shock on his face might be the funniest thing you’ve ever seen when you meet him in his driver’s room, but of course Max doesn’t share the same sentiment as you. Because all he chooses to focus is the fact that you were on a plane – a 0.23% risk out of very 7.7 million flights each year, but still. He spends at least half an hour, just checking you over and assuring himself that you and the baby are fine; at some point he decides that you need to go to the nearest hospital to get an ultrasound just to make sure the baby is okay, but you tell him to fuck off and calm his tits down in the kindest way possible. And that’s how the two of you end up on the small couch in his driver’s room, with his arms around you as you lay between his legs, his hands splayed on the swell of your stomach as he caresses the skin through the fabric of your dress. His voice is low as he tells you about his day, mostly media duties since it is only Thursday, and how he thinks putting a cat tree in the nursery is a bad idea (that was your idea initially, but you can see how having two rumbunctious cats hang out in the nursery could cause problems). 

“I also thought about something else,” he mumbles, suddenly busying himself with the flower pattern of your dress instead of looking at you.  

You raise your brows slightly, motioning him to continue, but let out a huff when he doesn’t do so right away. “Come on,” you whine softly, “tell me what it is Maxie.”  

“I don’t want him to get into karting.” His words are soft, mumbled, and most definitely final. You know how Max can be when he puts his mind into it, and this particular topic has been a discussion in your household ever since the two of you found out that you were having a boy. “I don’t want him to go through what I went through.” 

Letting out a soft exhale, you motion Max to six next to you on the couch. “He won’t,” you assure him, voice soft as you give pleading looks at him, “you’re not your father, Max.” He gives you a look that basically begs for you to not dwell on the topic, but you continue despite the look he gives you, “And what if he wants to get into karting? Are you going to tell him no?” 

Max tries his best to ignore the knowing look you give him, knowing very well that he won’t be able to ever say ‘no’ to his son, who already has him wrapped around his finger. “I might do that, you never know.” He grumbles, hiding his face in your hair – though the soft giggles coming from you manages to put a soft smile on his face. “You’re supposed to agree with me, you know, we have to be a united front.”   

“We’ll discuss it when the baby comes, until then, I’ll be the voice of reason.” You emphasise, poking him at his bicep to convey your point. “You feel better now?” 

“Kinda,” he murmurs, leaving small kisses onto the exposed skin of your shoulder as he keeps on murmuring against your skin, “I would feel better if I knew you stayed in bed all day, relaxing.” 

With that, you choke a loud laugh, and motion him to stand up as you try to do it yourself – though, of course, he has to help with the baby bump being in the way of you doing any sort of physical activity. “You’re funny, let’s go get me ice cream.”  

The only response you get back is a confused look from your husband, his head tilted to the side as he eyes you warily. “What does that have to do with anything?” 

“Um, excuse me?” You raise an eyebrow, “Your son,” pointing to your stomach, you emphasise your words, “is craving ice cream right now.”  

Max’s eyes soften instantly, and a smile creeps across his face. He nods, taking your hand gently as he helps you up. “Well, if my son wants ice cream, then ice cream he shall have.” 

You giggle as you both make your way out of the driver’s room, Max's hand never leaving yours. The paddock is bustling with activity, but for a moment, it feels like it's just the two of you, cocooned in your little world. As you approach the nearest concession stand, Max’s protective instincts kick in once again. “Is this ice cream stand safe? How long have they been here? Do they have the proper health certifications?” 

You roll your eyes playfully. “Max, it’s ice cream, not a five-course meal. I’m sure it’s fine.” He sighs but nods, deciding to trust your judgment. After all, you did manage to fly all the way here without incident and somehow alerting him. You both get a generous serving of your favourite flavours, and as you sit down to enjoy your treat, you feel a sense of normalcy and contentment wash over you. 

Max watches you with a tender expression, his eyes filled with a mixture of love and worry. “I know I can be overprotective,” he says softly, reaching out to brush a stray hair from your face, “but it’s only because I love you so much.” 

You smile, leaning into his touch. “I know, Max. And I love you too. But sometimes, you need to trust that everything will be okay. We’ll figure things out together, just like we always do.” 

He nods, his gaze shifting to your belly. “You’re right. I guess I need to talk to my mom.”  

“Why?” You ask, tilting your head to the side in curiosity.  

“Well, she promised me she’d look after you but you’re here, so I think we need to have a talk about not keeping secrets from each other.” He mumbles, dragging a hand down his face. 

You laugh, nudging him playfully. “Oh, Maxie, who do you think helped me with my bags at the airport? Your mom is unsurprisingly a strong woman.” 

He chuckles softly, shaking his head. “I should’ve known better than to think you’d stay put for a whole month.” He sighs, but there’s a smile playing on his lips. “Alright, but next time, at least let me know you’re planning something. My heart can only take so much.” 

Max feels a lot better after tricking you with ice-cream into at least staying put withing the Red Bull hospitality for the day as he gets through his media duties. Max feels a lot better after tricking you with ice cream into at least staying put within the Red Bull hospitality for the day as he gets through his media duties. He periodically checks in, making sure you're comfortable and well-fed. Each time he sneaks a glance your way, you catch him with a knowing smile and a roll of your eyes, and he returns it with a wink. He knows that there is absolutely no reason for him to be checking on you as much as he does, because you’ll be fine in the cool hospitality suite with enough water to keep you hydrated for years, but he can’t help but worry about anything and everything going wrong. And his worries prove to be true when he sees the one person who he definitely doesn’t want around you.  

“What are you doing here?” He asks the approaching figure, “I thought you were not going to be coming to this race but the next one.”  

“Given the drop in your performance in the last few races I thought I should be here for... support.” His dad supplies, eyes finding you behind his son’s back on one of the couches in the hospitality, “And I can see the reason for why you’ve been distracted lately, what is she doing here?”  

Max scoffs, crossing his arms on his chest protectively, “She’s my wife, she is more than welcome to be here.” 

“She’s also a distraction, Max,” his father points out, “you’re going to lose your focus if you keep–” 

Since Max is faster than his father where it matters the most, he cuts him off before he can say anything further. “Leave, I don’t want you here.” 

Max’s father looks taken aback, his eyes widening momentarily before they narrow into a scowl. “Excuse me?” he says, his voice low and dangerous. 

“You heard me,” Max replies firmly, his stance unwavering. “I don’t want you here if you’re going to criticize my wife and stress me out, or worse, stress her out.” 

“You’re being irrational,” his father argues, taking a step closer. “I’m just trying to help you stay focused.” Seeing that his son is not going to back down anytime soon, he points a threatening finger towards him. “I’ll be back on race day, but you better be ready to put in a winning performance,” his father finishes, his voice laced with finality. He turns on his heel and walks away, leaving a tense silence in his wake. 

Max sighs deeply, running a hand through his hair as he watches his father disappear into the crowd. Looking back at you over his shoulder, talking to some interns from the social media team, he can’t help but feel the dread of you having to face his father – which gives him another reason to somehow stop the two of you from running into each other during the weekend.  

On Friday, Max’s luck decides to do him a favour as you tell him that you’re not feeling well enough to go to the track with him for the qualifying, and though it is true that he wants you to be with him, he also realises that this will give him one less thing to worry about. He knows how stressful it can be for you to navigate the bustling paddock and deal with the crowds, especially with the added pressure of possibly encountering his father. 

“You rest up, okay?” he says, his voice full of concern. “I'll be back as soon as I can. If you need anything, just call me.” 

You nod, giving him a reassuring smile. “I will, Max. Good luck today. We'll be cheering you on from here.” 

Max leans down to kiss your forehead gently as he mumbles into your skin, “I love you.”  

“I love you too,” you reply, your voice soft and comforting, “be careful out there, okay?” 

Max has one goal throughout qualifying, and to his team principal’s dismay, it is not being on pole. His one and only goal is to get the session done with as quickly as possible and get back to you as soon as he can. After the session ends, he barely waits for the car to come to a stop before jumping out and heading straight for the hospitality suite. His team notices his urgency but knows better than to question it once he tells them he’ll pay whatever fine the FIA will give him for missing his interviews. 

Bursting through the door, Max finds you resting comfortably on the couch, a cup of tea in your hands. The sight of you immediately calms his racing heart. “Hey,” he says softly, walking over to sit beside you. “How are you feeling?” 

You smile up at him, still in his team gear and the hat he almost never takes off, the warmth in your eyes easing his worries. “Better, now that you're here. How did it go?” 

“Starting on pole,” he replies, mostly in a mumble, taking your hand in his. “But all I could think about was getting back to both of you.” 

You squeeze his hand, your expression tender. “I'm proud of you, Max. You did great.” 

He leans in, pressing a gentle kiss to your lips. “Thanks. Let's just relax for the rest of the day, hm? I want to hold you to make sure you’re not getting out of this bed until tomorrow.” 

“You know, I would be happier about this proposal if it was until different circumstances,” you sigh, earning a laugh from him as he pulls you towards his chest, being careful not to spill your tea, of course. Why? Because it is a safety hazard, of course. 

As you settle back into the bed together, Max feels a sense of relief wash over him. The stress of the day melts away in your presence, and he realizes how much he needs these quiet moments with you to forget all about the outside world and focus his energy on what actually matters instead. 

The next day, feeling much better, you prepare to join Max at the track for the race. He’s still concerned but reassured by your determination to support him. As you arrive at the paddock together, Max is more attentive than ever, keeping an eye out for his father in hopes of trying to prevent the two of you running into each other. Navigating through the bustling paddock, Max keeps a protective arm around your waist, and a hand on your bump whenever the two of you stand somewhere talking to someone, guiding you through the throngs of people. His eyes constantly scan the crowd, his jaw set in a determined line. The other drivers and team members greet you warmly, and you return their smiles, feeling the anticipation that surrounds you. 

“Max, relax a bit,” you whisper, squeezing his hand as you notice the tension in his posture. 

He glances down at you, his expression softening slightly. “I just want to make sure everything’s okay.” 

“I know,” you reply, reaching up to stroke his cheek, “but we’re here to enjoy the race and support you. Try to focus on that.” 

He nods, taking a deep breath as both of you make your way to the Red Bull hospitality area. The team welcomes you with open arms, and you settle into a comfortable spot where you can watch the preparations for the race. He asks one of the interns to keep an eye on you, which he thought he was being sly whilst doing it, but you of course catch him in the corner of your eye. That’s when you realise the man walking towards him, your eyes meeting in nothing short of disdain for each other.  

You stiffen slightly, your hand tightening around Max’s hand as he turns just in time to see his father approaching, his protective instincts kicking into high gear as he lets go of your hand and decides to wrap his arm around you protectively instead. 

“Max,” Jos says, his tone neutral but carrying an underlying condescension. “We need to talk before your race begins, walk with me.” 

Max's grip tightens around you for a moment before he reluctantly loosens his hold. “What is it, Dad?” he asks, his voice steady but tinged with irritation. 

Jos's eyes flicker to you before focusing back on Max. “I wanted to discuss strategy, but I can see this isn't a good time.” 

Max's jaw clenches, his protective instincts on high alert. “If it's important, we can talk here. I’m not leaving her side.”  

Jos sighs, clearly frustrated. “Fine, if that's how you want it.” 

Max’s arm remains firmly around you as his father steps closer. “Make it quick,” Max insists, his tone leaving no room for argument. If other people were to see your eyes moving from one Verstappen to the other, they’d probably think you are watching a tennis match, though the situation in front of you is certainly more tense than that. 

Jos glances at you once more before addressing Max. “I just wanted to remind you to stay focused. Pole position is a great start, but you need to keep your head in the race.” 

Max's eyes narrow, and he lets out a scoff, “I know how to do my job, no need for reminder. Anything else?” 

Jos shakes his head, his expression a mix of disappointment and resignation. “Just don’t let distractions cost you the win.” 

“What is that supposed to mean?” Max hisses, taking a step towards his father as he gently pushes you behind himself. You have to put a hand against his chest to slow him down, though that doesn’t prove to be a sufficient prevention method. “I already told you; she is my wife, and he is not going anywhere so you better get that into that damaged brain of yours.” 

“Max,” you try to plead with him, “please, not before your race.”  

He gives you a look over his shoulder for a short moment before turning back towards his father. His jaw is set as he looks at the man in front of him. “I’ll only tell you this one more time. When she’s here with me, you don’t show up. If you do show up, you don’t come near her, you don’t talk to her, you don’t even look at her.” Another step taken towards his father has you tightening your hold on him, but he still manages to convey his message. “Try something like this again, and you won’t be in my life anymore let alone my son’s.” 

Jos's lips press into a thin line, his eyes darting to you briefly before settling back on Max. “Fine,” he repeats, his tone colder. “Just remember what’s at stake every time you get behind the wheel.” 

Max stands his ground, his eyes locked onto his father's, unwavering. “I know exactly what's at stake, and I don't need you reminding me. Now, if you’ll excuse us, we have a race to focus on.” 

Max stands his ground, his eyes locked onto his father's, unwavering. “I know exactly what's at stake, and I don't need you reminding me. Now, if you’ll excuse us, we have a race to focus on.”

It’s not the first time Max has stood up to his father, not by any means. But you can tell that this time affects him in a different way. The weight of the words exchanged and the implications for their future relationship linger in the air. You can feel the tension radiating from Max as he watches his father walk away, and it takes a moment for him to relax his posture and turn back to you. “Please tell me something that will calm me down so I don’t somehow do something that would put me to jail.”

“Okay,” you singsong, quickly positioning yourself in front of him so that you can fix him with a strict look on your face. “You are not doing something that will put you into prison, period.”

“I’m going to need a very good reason because all I want to do right now is follow him to his car and punch him.” Unfortunately for you, the way his jaw is set is a telling sign that, no, Max would actually do something like this given the circumstances.

“There is no sim racing in prison.” You try to provide, giving him a weak smile.  

Max's lips twitch into a small, reluctant smile at your words, the tension in his jaw easing slightly. “No sim racing in prison, huh? Do you honestly think that would keep me from doing something stupid?” 

“I panicked!” You exclaim, hitting him on his chest lightly as he laughs at you silently. “How are you supposed to help me raise our son,” you point to your stomach to emphasise your point, “if you’re in prison, huh?”

Max's smile grows wider, the tension in his posture finally starting to melt away. “Okay, okay, you’ve got a point,” he says, placing his hands on your shoulders and looking into your eyes. “I need to be here for both of you. But it’s so damn hard to ignore him.” 

You reach up and cup his face in your hands, your eyes soft and filled with understanding. “I know, but you’re stronger than him. And you have more important things to focus on. Like winning this race and getting me more ice cream on our way back to the hotel.” 

He takes a deep breath, nodding slowly as he lets out a soft chuckle. “You’re right. I can’t let him get to me. Not today.” 

“Exactly,” you say, giving him a reassuring smile, “I usually am.” 

Max laughs, the sound lightening the mood even more. “Yes, you usually are,” he agrees, pulling you closer for a brief kiss. “Thank you for always knowing how to calm me down.” 

“That’s what I’m here for,” you say, resting your forehead against his. “Now, go out there and show everyone what you can do. We’ll celebrate with ice cream afterward.” 

“Deal,” he replies, his eyes twinkling with affection and determination. With one last squeeze, he lets you go and turns towards his team, his focus now fully on the race ahead. “But I feel like I need to let you know that I would definitely go to prison for life for you.” 

You laugh, shaking your head. “Don’t you have a race to win, Verstappen?” 

He grins, giving you one last kiss before heading off to prepare for the race, giving you a grin over his shoulder as he starts to move away, “So, I’ll get the rest of that kiss after the race, then?” 

“Yeah, Max,” you let out a breathy laugh, your eyes not leaving his for a moment, “after the race!” 

[foxyloueh]

.

[skylarsblue]

✦I have more C.o.D Quotes✦

Gaz: How’s your head? Y/N: Well, I haven’t had any complaints yet. Gaz: …excuse me? Y/N: Oh uh, I think I’ll live-

-- (Somewhere in Greece with a fuck ton of cats) Ghost, watching Price sneeze every five seconds: What a catastrophe. Gaz: No. Y/N: PFFT- Soap: Stop, no, don’t encourage him. Y/N: Ahem! Right, right. Not funny. Ghost: I am purrfectly capable of being funny. Y/N: *struggling* Gaz: Sometimes I wish you didn’t have a mouth.

-- Just a scene of Y/N taking out a bottle of whiskey, unscrewing they cap, then putting one of those lid caps on. (Like the ones you have on those fancy Gatorades) Taking a huge swig and closing the cap on it as Soap watches in amusement, & Price in fear.

-- Ghost: Quit messing with my hand. Soap: Quit messing with my hair! Y/N: Quit being gay. Gaz: PFFFT Y/N: Both problems solved.

-- Y/N, on the comms: You have thirteen seconds before the building fucking explodes you hot topic wannabe- Ghost: … Y/N: And you green gumball son of a bitch. Gaz: Wha-?! Soap: *WHEEZE* Y/N: You have done nothing but ruin my life; I hope you both die.

-- Soap, Gaz, & Y/N: *cackling* Laswell, losing at poker: I miss my wife, Price. Price: *places down cards* Laswell: I miss my wife.

-- Ghost, overstimulated & a lil drunk: AHHHHHH MY BONES Y/N: *frantically getting headphones* Soap, drunk: *wheeze* Gaz: Ah. I know I should’ve- *dies coughing* Soap: *more wheezing*

-- Graves *kicks in door* WHO POSTED MY NUDES ON TWITTER DOT COM?! Y/N: SUCK IT, BITCH BOY!! Alejandro: *aggressively slapping his leg while silently laughing* Rudy: *pointing and laughing* Valeria, in handcuffs: Ha, dumbass.

-- Graves: Bitch, you are gonna get in this car or I’m popping between ya eyes! Valeria: Hey, I know you. I saw your dick on Twitter! Graves: NOOOOOO Y/N: AHAHA!

-- Graves: C’mon Johnn- Y/N: *chucks a rock at Graves’ head* Graves: OW, WHY?! Y/N: NO JOHNNY FOR YOU! He goes by Soap and we respect that! Graves: Ghost calls him that! Y/N: CAUSE GHOST HAS PERMISSION, you EARN the right to Johnny! And I will be damned if anyone else earns the right before me. I been working my ass off to get the Johnny privilege and you will NOT get it for free! Soap, who’s just been standing there the whole time: *leans to Gaz* Have they actually been taking it that seriously? Gaz: Yeah. They’ve also been working real hard to try and get the right to call Captain “John”. Shoulda seen their face when I said they can call me Kyle. Soap: That’s…really sweet, I’ll give’em permission later. Gaz: Why not now? Soap: I wanna see that bastard get chewed out some more.

-- Y/N, perched on Price’s desk: Captain. Price: *sigh* Y/N: Captain I crave violence.

-- Ghost: Your family line deserves to die with you, only shame it didn’t end before you. Graves: ….I just sat down!

-- Y/N: You’re like…the human incarnation of crumbs in the bed. Graves: Oh c’MON THAT’S REAL MEAN Ghost: It’s true though. Y/N: The kinda crumbs that you keep swiping away but somehow they never leave- Graves: Alright! You know what- Soap: Like getting in bed after going to the beach. Gaz: Sand in the bed, yeah. Feels like that when he talks. Graves: I’M JUST GONNA FUCKIN LEAVE! Y/N: *watches him go* Annnd now the sheets have been changed. Ghost: Clean from filth. Alejandro: You all are so cruel and it’s perhaps the funniest thing I’ve ever seen.

-- Gaz: Things Gucci with you? Y/N: It’s Goodwill at best, my guy. Price: I don’t know what this means but I feel like I should be concerned.

-- (Mild NSFW Jokie Time) Gaz: You alright? You been zoned out. Y/N: Hm? Nah I’m good, just having depraved thoughts. Gaz: Depraved, you say? Soap: Oh do tell. Y/N: You just…you ever see someone and think “they have pretty eyes”. And that’s normal. But then the little devil in the back of ya skull goes “yeah they’d look good rolled back”. Or am I just a whore? Gaz: That is depraved. Soap: Got a good point though.

-- Y/N: Ooo! Look! Old pictures of Captain, this one’s dated. You would’ve been…19 in this one. Lemme s-…… Gaz: Lemme see! ….. Price: What? Y/N: …..you were a whore, weren’t you captain? Gaz: That’s the face of an arrogant bastard who fucks regularly. Price: I…might’ve been a bit of a playboy. Y/N: And I would’ve fallen for it you god damn bastard, no ones fACE SHOULD BE THAT NICE!

-- Valeria, painting her nails: I might kill my ex, not the best idea. His new girlfriend’s next- Alejandro: ….. Rudy: ….should I be worried? Alejandro: Move away quietly and pray.

-- Ghost: For the record this is self destructive. Soap, chugging his 5th energy drink in the past hour: For the record, I’m aware of that.

-- MILF!Y/N: Boys. Bed, now. I wanna talk to your captain. Price: No, boys stay. Please stay- Y/N: Go. Price: Stay. The boys: *concern, panic, perhaps a bit of fear* Y/N: Go! Price: Stay! Y/N: You go! Soap: *speed walking* Price: Soap, stay! Y/N: NOW! Gaz: *slowly backing away* Price: Gaz, don’t move! Y/N: YOU GO! Price: SIMON- Ghost: *leaving*

-- Ghost: What was Plan A? Soap: …don’t fuck up. Ghost: And what was Plan B? Gaz: Don’t fuck up Plan A. Ghost: And what did you do? Y/N: …fucked up plan a- Ghost: YOU FUCKED UP PLAN A-

-- Ghost: What’s rule number one? Soap, with dynamite: Party! Ghost: NO! No, not party! No!

-- Graves: How about after this, we get a drink? Y/N: …I would rather gouge out my eyes and blindly navigate a way to turn them into earrings than ever be anywhere alone with you. Soap, grinning: Ooooo brutal! Ghost: Karma.

-- Ghost: Wait…Johnny’s into me? Like…he LIKES me?? Gaz: Oh Si…you poor, sad, dense mother fucker.

-- Ghost: At least nothing of importance was lost. Laswell: …Graves was kidnapped. Ghost: I know. I said what I said. Y/N: Nothing of value was lost but we did shed off some trash! Ghost: Precisely.

-- Ghost: These lights make me wanna pull my eyes out and eat them. Medic!Y/N: *turns lights off in favor of a lamp* …alright, so you’re autistic, good to know.

-- Ghost: Should I get my reading glasses? Y/N: Oh no no, this isn’t an eye test. It’s a GAY test. Now tell me, *holds up picture of Farah & Graves; Price being 1* Number one, or number two? Ghost: Number one?… Y/N: Interesting. *holds up Farah & Soap, Soap being 2* Okay now number one, or number two? Ghost: *gasp* Y/N: Number two, right? Ghost: Maybe I am gay?

-- Waitress: So, I’ve gotta ask, I’m really curious. 141: ? Waitress: Have any of you ever used like…the military language in bed? Soap: Naaaah. Y/N: No, I don’t- PFFFT, I- *wheeze* I’m sorry I’m imagining it- Gaz: *biting back laughs* Y/N: “You gonna come?” Affirmative. *laughs* Soap: *WHEEZE* Gaz: *cackling* Price: Oh lord- Gaz, snickering: Picking up speed. Y/N: COPY- *Laughter x100* The entire team: *giggling like hyenas* Ghost: Uh, that’s a no. I don’t think we’ve done that.

-- Price: *smiles at Soap & Gaz being stupid* Y/N: I like when you smile. Price: …huh? Y/N: Your smile, I like it. Makes your eyes crinkle up and your beard makes you look like a cuddly bear. You should smile more. Price, internally on the verge of tears: *fond sigh* Get back to drills, soldier. Y/N: Yes sir!

-- Ghost: *minding his fucking business* Y/N: You have pretty eyes. Ghost: *chokes on air* Pardon? Y/N: You have pretty eyes. Ghost: No I-…they’re just brown. Y/N: So? Your eyes don’t have to be blue or green to be pretty. They’re pretty because they’re expressive, and when the sun hits them they look like syrup. I like’em best when we’re all at a bar. They get brighter then. Ghost: Ghost: …stop talking, sergeant. Y/N: Copy that, L.T! <3

-- Gaz: *laughing at something on his phone* Y/N: You have a great laugh. Gaz: Hm? Oh…really? Y/N: Mhm. It’s cute, comes from your chest. I’ve never heard you laugh in anyway that’s not genuine. Really fills the room with joy. Gaz: Dude, you’re gonna make me all soft with words like that. Y/N: All according to plan!

-- Soap: *rambling about something* Y/N: *listening intently* Soap: Then-…ah, I been talkin’ at you this whole time, eh? Should probably quiet down. Y/N: No no, I like your voice! Soap: Eh? Y/N: It’s super energetic and loud, and when you tell a joke or talk about something you love, it’s like you can hear your smile. It’s really fun to listen to. I like when you talk! Soap: *inhale* You’re gonna make me cry- Y/N: I have tissues!

-- König: *fidgeting* Y/N: *takes his hands* You have beautiful hands. König: Wh- Huh?? No they are not. Y/N: They are too! König: Nien, they’re rough and calloused, they break a lot of things… Y/N: They also pet stray cats, make the best coffee on base, and create crotchet works of art. They also mend wounds pretty well. Yeah they fire guns but that doesn’t make them less beautiful. König: *he’s actually crying* …Danke. Y/N: Don’t mention it!

-- Rudy: *rolling his shoulder* Y/N: Anyone ever tell you that you have great shoulders? Rudy: Hm? Oh uh…no, I don’t believe so. Y/N: Well you do! Rudy: Ah, gracias. When I was younger I wanted them to be broader, sometimes now I wish they were more narrow. Can never really be happy with’em, you know? Y/N: Well I think you should be. They’re strong! *gently pats his shoulders* They hold a lot of weight, metaphorically and physically. And even when they’re weighed down, you shoulder it and keep moving. You’re real good at that! I like your shoulders. Rudy, prepared to die for them: …gracias. Y/N: No problem! Now c’mon, the guys are waitin’ for us!

-- Y/N: You have good collarbones. Alejandro: What was that? Y/N: Sorry, I know that’s real specific, but I think your collarbones are pretty. It’s like…the rest of you is bulky and strong, rugged. Then you have these delicate bones. I’m probably being too poetic but it’s like a subtle nod to your gentler side, just, built into your body. Alejandro: …you have a lovely way with words, camarada. Y/N: Thank you! I appreciate that!!

[starkeyisthelastname]

Rafe as your toxic ex and you were in a secret relationship and now he’s your stepbrother🫣

“Welcome to the family, sis.” Rafe’s voice low as he leaned down to your ear as he took your arm in his. You felt the shiver run down your spine, swallowing hard as the two of you began to walk down the aisle behind your now newly married parents.

You tried your best to stay away from him that night during the busy reception. You actually had been trying to avoid him the entire length of your mother and Ward’s relationship. You couldn’t bring yourself to think about the relationship you both once had. Not as step-siblings but as boyfriend and girlfriend. It was toxic to say the least. Screaming matches, Rafe being too controlling and you not willing to bow down, along with drugs, alcohol and violence.

You couldn’t help but glance at him as he stood at the bar. He looked good. Really fucking good. He looked like a man. His hair was buzzed, which surprisingly fit him in a delicious way. He had filled out in his arms and back as he unknowingly flexed in the navy suit he wore. Your eyes scanned down to his crotch, cunt fluttering around nothing as you remembered the hot and nasty sex you both had. You cursed at yourself for even thinking about him like that again. He wasn’t good for you. He was now your step-brother that you were going to be living with.

You brought your eyes back up, letting out a small gasp when you saw him staring at you. The smirk on his face said it all, as his blue eyes focused on you now with your cheeks turning pink in embarrassment. You quickly down the Cristal champagne in the gold flute, before excusing yourself away back to Tannyhill.

White fluffy towel wrapped around your body and hair still dripping down your back, you walked to your dresser where you grabbed the vanilla scented lotion. You let the towel fall, bending over the fluffy chair of your vanity to rub it into your smooth legs.

“Still got the prettiest pussy I’ve ever seen.” The voice of your ex said from behind you. You felt your stomach drop, immediately picking the towel back up to cover yourself.

“Rafe! What are you doing in here?” You shrieked. How long had he been standing there?

Rafe walked closer to you, eyes boring into yours as he watched you breathe heavily. “It’s my house and I’ll be in any room I want.” He said, jaw ticking as he leaned down towards your neck. “Why you hiding from me, huh? Acting like I make you nervous.” His voice against your neck.

You couldn’t help but lean into him, letting out a small sigh as he sucked on your neck. “We gonna act like you weren’t staring at my dick at our parents wedding.” He said, traveling his mouth up towards your ear. “Drop the fucking towel.” He spat in a low voice. You froze, only to feel your oxygen being cut off. “Gonna play stupid tonight.. I see.” His hand squeezing your windpipe. His other yanked the towel off, leaving you naked.

His fingers found your cunt, intruding two fingers in your slick hole as you let out a gasp. He knew exactly where to hit your spot in one go, your pussy squelching as he plunged them in and out.

“Ra-Rafe.. we can’t. You’re m-my step-brother.” You stuttered out.

Rafe laughed as if you said the funniest joke. “I know. That’s what makes it all the more fucked up. You think they know I was in your cunt before they ever met?”

You whimpered at his dirty words, the pressure in your stomach growing as you knew you were about to cum. Your eyes squeezed shut, moans leaving your mouth as you started to clench down onto his fingers. That was when you felt him abruptly pull them out, leaving you empty, pissed off and confused.

“You thought you were gonna cum? Nah, you gotta earn my dick back. You ended things with me. Remember sis?” He asked, tapping your forehead with the same two fingers that were inside of you.

[mittenslikescats]

The fact that Chris is scared of a fictional lego character being gay is the funniest thing ever. Like I’ve seen this dude on instagram make tons of posts about how we have to ‘save Cole from the gay agenda’ and to ‘save Cole from the goblin’ to the point where his own fans (who liked his content before the whole Cole x Geo thing) are calling him out and saying they’re getting sick of his homophobia.

But also seeing this guy basically have a huge hissy fit over a fictional character being in a healthy relationship is fucking amazing. I’ve never seen so many Ninjago ‘fans’ get so worked up over these two guys holding hands. Especially on instagram, I think that’s the platform where most of the homophobic Ninjago fans live (at least from my experience)

[devildomwriter]

Obey Me As Tumblr #31

Belphegor: Snail but with no shell

Beelzebub: Oh those is then uuuuuuuuuuu slurms

Satan: A what

•

Diavolo: Maybe dogs lick us so much because they know there’s bones beneath our skin

Lucifer: This is worst thing you’ve said by far, thanks

•

Beelzebub: Aye can I get Uh…..ingredients on my burger

Satan: Beetroot?

Satan: You want beetroot?

Satan: You want fucking beetroot?

Beelzebub: Ingredience

Mammon: This post feels exactly like a conversation you would witness in a dream and think was completely normal and then wake up and think “what the fuck” for a single millisecond and then immediately forget about completely

•

Diavolo: I’ve lost 20% of my couch

Diavolo: Ouch

Solomon: That’s the funniest couch joke I’ve seen sofa

•

Mammon: *begins breakdancing gently* what’s wrong son?

Asmodeus: What the fuck. What does this even mean. Who thinks of this shit, why is it so funny. I hate this site

•

Mammon: You know what really gets my goat?

Barbatos: El chupacabra

•

Leviathan: The future: holograms can physically touch you and there are 12 cases of homicide committed by Hatsune Miku

Solomon: Just 12?

Diavolo: It’ll be 13 if you don’t stop asking questions

•

Satan: Do you ever get so excited you just want to crush a human skull in your hands

Mephistopheles: You just described breathing

Satan: I am fairly certain I Did Not

•

Mammon: I love it when the city gets rainy at night, and the floor gets all reflective and pretty, and everything becomes more vibrant and gorgeous and you can put any fluid on the ground and people will think it’s water, fools

Lucifer: This post was great until the last part, what are you implying

Mammon: Fool

•

Diavolo: Science puns, go!

Belphegor: You must have a pH of 13 cause you basic as fuck

•

Satan: Shut up @ people who still say “science side of tumblr”

Belphegor: Science side of tumblr why is this man so salty

Solomon: Osmosis

•

Satan: 100 years ago everyone owned a horse and only the rich had cars. Today everyone has cars and only the rich own horses

MC: The stables have turned

Mephistopheles: I laughed too hard at this and I hate you for it

•

Leviathan: Guys, I’m sorry but I think December 31st is going to be my last day on Tumblr for this year

Leviathan: …If one more person asks me why I’m leaving

Diavolo: Kids, this is why school is important

•

Simeon: In primary writing school we had a creative writing assignment where we had to ‘write about a character in a new strange environment’ and I wrote about a squid that was somehow transported from the ocean to the forest floor and slowly choked to death for two pages and I’ll never quite forget the look on my teacher’s face because it turns out she wanted ‘this new school is scary, I hope I make friends’ and not a graphic description of a squid dying

Lucifer: Well that’s just the risk you take if you decide to teach creative writing

•

Raphael: Why do stores always say “gifts for her”??? Who is she? Why are millions of Americans being encouraged to buy gifts for this entity? Someone explain

Mammon: We must appease Her

MC: She is all that keeps the darkness at bay. Without Her the Old Ones will rise again, we must not disappoint Her

Solomon: She is watching. She knows.

Last • Next

[shyshyaaaaaa]

One of my favourite things about falsettos is how I found about it:

It was a Thursday night and I was just scrolling idly through YouTube, bored out of my mind. When suddenly, I get this 2 hour and 20 minute long video on my homepage titled “hepa hepa hepatitis hepatitis hepatitis?” Funniest title I’ve ever seen without context. So obviously, I click on it, not knowing what the hell I’d find (and being a bit startled by Andrew Rannells staring at me in the thumbnail). And then I see the opening for the musical. “Christian borle” oh I’ve heard of that guy! Love him in Something Rotten and CATCF! “Andrew Rannells” oh isn’t that the guy who’s in the Book of Mormon? He voices Veneer right? “Falsettos” OH I’ve heard of that before! I listened to a bit of the soundtrack when it was shuffling randomly on Spotify! And now usually, I don’t have the attention span for videos this long and musicals that I’m not seeing live, but that time I js went “fuck it!” and watched it through.

Best choice of my fucking life.

Photos from that night:

Average falsettos experience,, also face reveal ig!! But yeah. I was hooked. And I find it genuinely amazing how just one little random click on a video with a funny title could get to me where I am now: drawing all the characters, writing fanfics, falling inlove with the cast (2016 and 1992), and having an “encyclopedic knowledge of all things Falsettos” (my grammas words).

So yeah. Just a little story. Thought I’d share, cuz I still think about that night and it puts a smile on my face.

Thanks for reading :)

Edit: thanks for the notes and support on the post!! Usually when I post stuff that isn’t art related people don’t see it it so ty all for caring about my silly story :3

[loviingpedri]

they caught us - p. gavi

prompt: gavi x gamer!fem!reader. hard launching your relationship on stream

warnings: cursing, grammar issues

credits to owners for all images.

inspo for this story ^^

-

you were a growing streamer. big in the minecraft and riot games community. you appreciated your fans from the unconditional support. ever since being an exposed barca fan, your platform definitely grew. content was trending to the point where you met the one and only, pablo gavi. his simple message of complimenting you building camp nou in minecraft ended in a few date nights, a lot of kissing, and some risky nights. your fans wanted some player in barca to notice you, but little did you know that you spent your nights with your dream barca player everyday.

exposing your relationship was not in your agenda any time soon. it was the peak of your gaming career and gavi had big plans for the national team. the internet would practically blow up from the news. both of you were not ready for that amount of personal space to be invaded.

it was that time of the day to start your daily stream. it was a good balance of work and relationship. start your stream when gavi is at practice, and end it when he’s at home to solely focus on him.

“hello, hello everyone! welcome to today's stream." waiting a few seconds as more people started joining. “today will be a minecraft stream. i’m thinking of making the barca logo.”

reading the comments blow up by the mention of the club is probably the funniest thing you’ve seen.

“change your shirt on the minecraft skin the jersey of your favorite player. i love that idea, but i don’t really have a favorite player. maybe i’ll do xavi or something.” lying isn’t the best thing to do to your supporters, but personal business is personal business.

after playing for hours and halfway done with the logo, you hear the door opening. “one second guys, i think my roommate is home.” roommate meaning your boyfriend. the plan is really thought out. your best friend occasionally popped into the streams, pretending to be your roommate, and it works. thinking you muted and turned off your camera (which happens often), gavi walks into your gaming room.

“hi gorgeous,” walking in and instantly kissing you made both of you smile. “are you streaming?”

“yeah, i am. i was building the logo. i can show you later when i’m ‘done greeting my roommate’.” making quotation marks with your fingers.

“yeah i’ll sit over here. i’ll just look while you continue playing.” you blew a kiss at him as you put your headset back on.

“alright guys, i’m back. did i miss anything?” your eyes tried to keep up with the chat. it was going faster than usual. you thought it was a raid, but nothing was happening. everyone was going crazy. finally, a donation came through with a message.

read aloud from the automated voice, “viscabarcaaa_11 donated $10 with a message. 'was that gavi you just kissed?’” fuck. gavi quickly sat up from the seat. you realized your camera and microphone was never off. your eyes panning from screen to screen in panic. speechless, you turned red instantly.

you were kissin’ and they caught you whether you like it or not.

you cleared your throat, still don’t know what to say. gavi unplugged your headphones from your pc tower to be able to hear what was going on. he urged you to get up. you had no idea what he was doing, but you just listened.

sitting down, he spoke slow and steady. “hello everyone. this was a very unexpected thing for you. not to mention, an unexpected plan from us. y/n and i have been seeing each other for a few months now. it wasn’t really planned for us to be revealed this early, but thank you for supporting my girlfriend. i am glad to get this off of our chest, because i’ve been wanting to show her off.”

playfully pushing him to the side, “okay thank you for attending this stream, see you tomorrow. love you guys.” making sure you ended the stream fully before giving off a sigh.

“looks like i can show you off now.”

“okay, that’s enough fame for you.”

————————————————————

author’s note: this story has been sitting in my drafts for months and i’m deciding to complete it on a random weekday.

[crazylittlejester]

i hope this isn’t weird to say, but can i hear you yap about your fiancée? like the little things you love about them? (you don’t have to if neither of you are comfortable with it! ignore this ask if it makes you uncomfortable)

aldkfkdk dw it’s okay!

for starters, no other mother fucker would say shit like this to me and then ACTUALLY give me an explanation:

fr tho, she’s not just my fiancee she’s my best friend and i love her so so much. if no one’s got my back, i know she does, and i have hers. If i need to yap about something, I know she’ll listen and hype me up, and i absolutely do the same for her. She’s truly one of the kindest, most caring people I’ve ever met in my entire life, and I genuinely get very very sad when she goes out of state for college because i miss her 😭

I can text her about a problem or something I’m upset about and she’ll respond with “NTA, divorce” and it’s genuinely the FUNNIEST fucking thing

We have this thing that she’s not allowed to speak while I’m drinking something or have food in my mouth because she chooses the absolute worst moments to say the funniest things and having water come out your nose HURTS, and a few months ago we were getting coffee and she waited until I took a nice big sip before showing me the stupidest tiktok I’ve ever seen and everyone in the coffee shop had to watch me fight for my fucking life. And yes it is a bit annoying to choke and die every time i eat or drink around her, but I do genuinely love the way this mf looks at me like :3 before showing me a meme. istg she does it on purpose /j

every time we play bg3 together she fucking sits there and waits for me to think she wont do it, and then shoves my fucking character or hits them with a sword and then RUNS AWAY AND I CAN NEVER GET HER BACK BECAUSE SHES TOO FAST 😭

she’s also the one who OFFICIALLY got me into Zelda, so without her I probably wouldn’t have gotten into LU. I’d played the og LOZ before when I was 12, but when we were 18 the two of us when to target and she was like “hey man this seems like something you’d like” and had me play the BOTW demo and now I’m here. She gave me the final push and I’ve been yappin’ here ever since. And I think it’s funny that it was my constant yapping that was the final push for HER to get into HER current hyperfixation, bg3. we cursed each other /j

i also love that i’ll go check to see if she got home okay (because i have her location) or im just curious to see what she’s doing, and then I’ll find her in the middle of a fucking lake out of the goddamn country. It never fails to make me laugh 😭

but yeah she’s great, she’s awesome, she’s the funniest person alive, i love her, she’s my best friend, we’re gonna hang a framed photo of autism creature on our wall once we’re able to get an apartment. and there’s no one else who will continue to say “GO PISS GURL!!!” with me in 2024 🫶

[cuubism]

fem!dream has me by the THROAT

----

This is… a revelation.

Hob really thought he'd passed his "learning about his sexuality" phase a good six hundred years ago. But he just might be having another sexual awakening right now.

It's because it's Dream. This kind of thing always happens with Dream. Hob supposes it's the inevitable result of being with someone whose form doesn't follow the bounds of material reality.

"Do you like what you see, Hob Gadling?" Dream asks, a smirk dancing on his lips. Same smirk as always, slightly different lips.

"I always like when I see you," Hob says. Dream props his– her?-- ah fuck it doesn't matter– arm on the back of the couch, head in her hand. Clearly pleased. Flattery always works in these situations, always. Bloody vain creature. 

There's none of the hesitation Hob had seen when Dream had revealed her more… nightmarish, her more otherworldly forms. There's only confidence here, utter assurance of her glory. As well she should.

"You're gorgeous," Hob tells her. "You're glorious. You always are." 

She's different like this. Subtly. Hob would have still been able to pick her out of a crowd at a hundred meters, but she's… fluid. Her angles are softened. Her legs seem even longer than usual where they're pulled up on the couch, delicate ankles crossed. Thin, familiar fingers press against a plusher lower lip. Cheekbones that cut even sharper. Strong jaw that pulls more narrow. Glinting galaxy eyes with long, fine lashes.

Hob is getting lost in the details. The point is that Dream is a vision, the bodily equivalent of draped silk, and Hob has never in his life been more grateful to be bisexual.

"This is very distracting to you," Dream murmurs, and Hob realizes Dream had said something else to him before and he hadn't even heard it. 

"Are you surprised?" Hob asks, leaning his head on his arm against the back of the couch so their eyes meet. "Wasn't that your intention?"  

"I was curious," says Dream. 

Famous last words for Hob’s sanity. "By which you mean you wanted to knock me on my ass, metaphorically speaking."

"I did wish to have you on your back," Dream agrees. Her voice is higher, like this, more alto than baritone, but still with that hazy, hypnotic melody to it.

Fucking hell.

"You know you'll get what you want, you always do." Hob brushes his ankle against Dream's. It's the only place they're touching, which is agony but Hob can't say he's not enjoying the tension. Or the view.

Dream runs a hand through her hair, twisting the long strands around her fingers. Her hair is a mess, sex-mussed and chaotic even though they’ve done nothing more than sit opposite each other here on the couch while Hob drinks Dream in with his eyes. It's… upsetting, in the daydreams it creates. 

“You know, it’s still mental to me that you can do this sort of thing in the real–” Hob cuts himself off and holds up an appeasing hand before Dream can object– “the waking world. Like, dreams, sure, anything can happen in dreams, right? But then you show up here one day and you have actual flesh-and-blood honest to God tits, you can’t just do that to me.” 

Hob half-expects Dream to automatically rejoin with my tits are also real in the Dreaming, so used is she to correcting Hob on the nature of dreams and their reality. The fact that she restrains herself is a tragedy, as that would possibly have been the funniest line Hob had ever heard come out of her mouth.

“I can choose how I wish my physical form to manifest,” Dream says, heavy-lidded gaze locked on Hob’s, “as you well know.”

“Do I ever,” Hob mutters.

“I have grown used to one shape but that does not mean that it is fixed.” 

“Can you manifest yourself as anything?” Hob asks.

“Anything that dreams,” Dream says.

“So you aren’t going to show up in my flat as a neutron star or something.”

“Do you think that stars dream, Hob?”

“I don’t know, I’ve never asked one.”

Dream just keeps looking at him with the slightest raise of her eyebrow, and Hob leans forward.

“Wait, can they–?”

“Hob Gadling,” Dream interrupts, “I am here before you, scarcely clothed, wearing a form that I know you are pleased by, and what you want to discuss is the finer points of my personal metaphysics?”

“Your personal metaphysics are very important to me, actually,” Hob teases, and gets a frustrated huff in return. 

“We have plenty of time,” Hob continues. “And you know I like learning about you.” He winks. “Like looking at you, too.”

Dream rolls her eyes and says, sounding put out, “You can look from closer up.”

Hob holds out a hand. “Alright, come here, then.”

Dream unfolds herself from the corner of the couch, so very like fabric indeed, and drapes herself onto Hob’s lap, settling on him weightless as always. Hob holds her by her waist, feels the familiar sharp bones of her hips. 

She’s wearing some sort of robe of soft velvet, fur lining the collar. It looks simultaneously two hundred years old and like it could have walked off the rack of a boutique lingerie shop yesterday evening. Is she wearing anything under it? No, Hob thinks, of course not. 

Hob rubs his fingers over the hem. “Where did you even get this? Pull it from someone’s dream?”

“Of course.” Dream lays her arms over his shoulders. The velvet brushes his skin; it’s ridiculously soft. “They were dreaming of an old film, I believe.”

This sort of luxurious, revealing garment is something Hob would not have batted an eye at her wearing in the Dreaming, but to see it here, in the waking world, where Dream is usually so buttoned up… it makes him feel some kind of way, and that way is mostly sad. 

“So, what, you stick with your usual body most of the time because you like it best, or you’re just used to it, or what?” he asks. Hob has found that if he wants to ask Dream about something touchy, it is best to ease in and do so in a roundabout way. Dream operates in dreams, fantasy, story, metaphor and allusion – she will find her way to what he’s really asking if she so wishes.

And once again, Hob’s decision to turn the doorknob but not force open the door is rewarded. 

“It is comfortable to me,” Dream says. “To the extent that any physical form is. However I confess that I…” she hesitates, and Dream rarely struggles to find words so it must be something she isn’t sure she wants to say. “I am finding… relief… in this form that has not been brutalized so by this world.”

Hob kisses the corner of her mouth, heart aching, and Dream leans her cheek against his. Her wild hair brushes his nose. Dream’s hair is always sticking up all over the place, but it strikes Hob suddenly that that wasn’t the case across all of their meetings – not until recently. He has seen Dream’s hair long and short, tied back and left loose, hardly controlled, always dramatic, but this level of utter dishevelment, that’s new.

He doesn’t know how much he should read into that; Dream is simultaneously the most intentional person he knows and also the literal personification of unconscious decision-making, so. Who’s to say, really.

“It is, of course, still I who has suffered,” Dream continues, “but this skin has not touched glass.”

Hob hurts for her, always, always hurts for her, but he’s relieved, also, to see her finding even momentary peace. And if he can provide it, even better. 

“I understand, love.” He thumbs over her lower lip, then holds her face in his hand. “The self is more than skin deep, but the skin is still part of it.”

Dream tilts her head. “Unusually poetic, Hob.”

“Unusually?” Hob protests. “Hey, I can manage it sometimes!”

A familiar smile touches Dream’s lips. “Perhaps.”

“Perhaps. I see you are as usually rude as always.”

“Did you think this form would temper me?” Dream raises an eyebrow, haughty glimmer in her eyes.

“Nothing could temper you.” Hob fits his hands under the sharp angles of her jaw. “You are the hard edges and brilliance and artistry of stained glass and don’t you know I love it?”

Dream kisses him, just a press of her lips against his, and hums, “Poetic. You do manage it. But I shall not ascribe to you an adjective; you have held too many to be so easily defined.”

“By which–” Hob runs his fingers through the hair at the nape of her neck; God, it’s nice when it's long “--you mean I am really old and have seen too much shit.”

“You have lived many lives,” Dream agrees. “Sculpted and resculpted again.”

“And we’re back to the art metaphors. Dream, did it hurt when you were thrown out the window of the National Gallery?”

For all the teasing, though, Hob is touched, always, by Dream’s regard for him.

“They did not want me at the gallery?” Dream asks. It’s always so easy to rope her into this weird sort of banter; Hob thinks it’s her natural language more so than direct communication is. 

She asks this while kissing him, though, so it takes a moment for Hob to respond. He considers not responding at all in favor of drinking in her lips for longer. “They wanted your beauty, they just couldn’t manage you.”

“And you can, Hob Gadling?” Challenging now, eyebrow raised, fingertips pressing into the back of Hob’s neck. 

Hob laughs. “God, no. How dare I.”

Dream’s mouth cuts into a sharp, satisfied smile. Hob hadn’t thought she could possibly be a sharper-edged person than she already is in her usual, masculine body, but somehow, despite the softer curves of her here, she’s managing it. It’s devastating. 

Hob has never claimed to be a strong man where Dream is concerned, which is fortunate, because that notion would have been decimated so thoroughly by now as to be embarrassing.

“I do like to try to hold you, though,” he says. “If one can hold a dream.”

“You’ve held on to life when you weren’t supposed to,” Dream points out. “That seems to have worked out well.”

“Hmmm.” Hob pulls her close, wraps his arms around the warm vibrancy of her. “So I’ll be rewarded for my hubris, again?”

“Perhaps.” Again, that crafty smile.

“I’m not going to keep you,” Hob tells her. There’s no keeping Dream; hell, Dream can’t even be kept in one body. Dream isn’t simple, and Hob wouldn’t want her to be. “But I’m not letting you go, either.”

“No.” Dream kisses the corner of his eye, right over the smile lines that have settled there, deeper, Hob thinks, in the year since their reunion than in all the centuries before. “I shouldn’t think so.”

[rondo-grazioso]

some math professor quotes

I just remembered about this draft post i made years ago during a semester when i had maybe the funniest professors ever. I guess now that it’s been a while since i’ve been out of uni it’d be fun to just post these 

Algebra

it’s ok that i’m confused, i’m confused all the time

you can teach a monkey to memorize…well, nothing against monkeys, monkeys are amazing

pray that this is an isomorphism

(TA after realizing mistake) oh noooooo….all the other students….i told them the wrong thing…aaah shit

wow…spontaneous silence

can they smurf better

if you look at the solutions after trying a question only once or twice, it will break my heart

last-minute cramming will be about as useful as bringing your dog to the exam

Calculus

this fucker converges

(every time he writes a complicated equation) what the fuuuuu

fuck the one

you know what bfc stands for? big fuckin cube

mathematics is serious!! we don’t like laughter. no laughter allowed. stop laughing. even smiling is not allowed

(someone’s phone goes off) what was that? probably me

(some weird noise coming from outside) what was that? god is that you

e^x is god’s function. lnx is the devil’s function

*comes in talking in a russian accent*

if you don’t know what the dot product is then…you’re fucked 

(after telling a story about experience working in a mental asylum) you may think i’m insane, but you haven’t seen what insane really is!! i’m perfectly normal 

Analysis

½ is less than 1…somehow

oh, 5 minutes left…well, i don’t really have anything else i want to cover. actually maybe i’ll just write a definition *(whole class goes NOOOOO)* okayyy

(finding out there is 15 minutes left of class) oh wow. i thought this would’ve taken me more time to get through

(after playing around with some faulty blackboards) i’m scared for my life now 

(after being stuck on his own proof) i’m going to take a quick look at my notes, which is already pretty embarrassing 

(after making a gajillion mistakes on the board) i really need to learn to read before i talk 

what do you call this in canada

(TA) *coughs* sorry i’m dying 

(TA) somebody on the midterm wrote “i’m dumb” on this question. that’s pretty irrelevant because i’m dumb and i can do this question 

[happy-hermit]

The comedic timing of that last tnt explosion after the first big one will be something I think about for a very long time it was the funniest thing I’ve ever fucking seen

[greengirllover]

Ok I want a mental illness lore, trauma lore if ur comfortable with and a whole chart of your exes.

BUCKLE UP EVERYONE

ok so i was diagnosed with insomnia, OCD and anxiety pretty young, at the age of 11 i would wake up at 3 am every morning and watch the news and have a few cups of coffee while shaking about hearing about violent crimes and laws being passed on the news, almost nothing i said when i was younger made any sense, i would talk in riddles i would say things like “the grass was gray and the streetlights were bright but it was dark and the wind” so then they started testing me for a bunch of stuff and the results were always inconclusive, i was then diagnosed later with depression and anorexia, i started drinking and smoking at 12 and i’ve been at it since

now for my ex’s 🤗

i’ve only actually dated two people bc i’m not a fan of relationships, i talked to this one guy in middle school, he came over and i wouldn’t fuck him so he ran outside in the middle of winter and walked around my neighborhood until he could get picked up, i talked to this other guy in freshman year and he tried to get me drunk so i would send him nudes and he called me mommy all the time and i’d just stand there like 🧍🏻‍♀️, after this most of the people i dated were drug dealers, the one who used to wake me up when i would pass out was a dealer, he would bring me to random peoples apartments, places under bridges and his dealers, he brought me to see someone’s kittens once but the people pulled out a katana on us and then their landlord chased us all out of the house, then his friend tried to fuck me, asked me to do his drug test for him so he didn’t go to jail but they randomly tested him and he got sent away, this one i almost forgot about bc he wasn’t a boyfriend he was a stalker, he would give me comics and stick love letters in them going in detail specifically about my eyes and hair, he said he wanted to peel my flesh off and eat it and he had a hair kink and would ask girls to send him videos of them shampooing their hair, also he brought a knife to school after he said he wanted to eat my flesh, then there is my ex girlfriend i actually dated her and she used to put me down constantly and used to bite me so hard that i’d scream in pain and beg her to stop and i would have bruises all over me but i’m not gonna lie she was really hot but crazy in an abusive way so ew, then we have the only man i’ve ever come close to loving, i met him freshman year, we had mutual friends, we were so close that if someone was trying to find me they would go to him and vise versa, he had the most beautiful smile i’ve ever seen and he was probably the funniest person i’ve ever met, we used to go on walks together all the time and i would normally end up almost passing out because i wasn’t eating at the time, he used to buy me apple juice and sit with me while i waited until i was okay enough to keep walking, but i was very sick then so i didn’t treat him very well (emotionally) i also thought i was a lesbian and i was scared that if we started dating and then i found out that i was a lesbian i would really hurt him and i was also terrified of any man touching me and he knew that, i ended things with him and it really fucked him up since we had been friends for so long and i was dismissive of his feelings for me, i found out later that he would talk about me all the time and he told his friends that he was happy just being near me and that he would be okay never even touching me, so then when i started eating again and was thinking more clearly i realized that he was everything to me but he said he would only date girls that were the opposite of me so he could never be hurt like that again and now he has a girlfriend who screams at him all the time and i still miss him that’s about it i have a few more but they were relatively uneventful

now my trauma lore 🙌🏻🙌🏻

so i’ll just go over a few things, there’s a long line of sexual abuse in my family and because of that most of the people in my family are practically dead because they are so disassociated from reality, i was assaulted by this one guy in his car and got blamed for it and was made to apologize to the people who forced me into that situation for “blaming them” and after i was assaulted the people i was with wouldn’t take me home and they instead brought me to another guys house and left me alone in his basement with him at midnight, it was my first time meeting him and he put his hands on me too, i got stalked a few times, once by a guy from school the guy i mentioned before and another time by this car of guys that would follow me every time i would go on a walk because they memorized my schedule, also my dad used to cry while holding me while i slept and thought i never knew, also i was left alone a lot all my life so most of my life was spent having to eat cold food (i didn’t know how to cook) and having to take care of my sister who is the same age as me

ok that’s about it if u read this whole thing i love you