#based on a real life events

[theeyeofeverything]

I just like to mess with his hat a lot and transforming it into abominations

[fangcyclonelunaheat]

furry bill gates

[ohitslen]

Average university experience

[maxlarens]

Max and 10 please <3

10) spooning at night

Despite the soundproofing you’d installed during Covid, you can still hear Max’s pedals going thunk against the walls of the apartment. The sound accompanied by faint chattering, occasional laughter, cries of outrage as he talks to his friends on stream.

He worries sometimes. But you’d tell him if it bothered you— besides, you like hearing sounds of life in the apartment. You’ve not quite adjusted to the sheer square footage of Max’s penthouse apartment yet, even though you’ve lived with him for years. You grew too used to New York apartments where your bedroom, kitchen, and dining room were always piled on top of each other. It’s strange to have so much space, more rooms than you know what to do with.

Anyway, no, the noise doesn’t bother you. You like to hear him enjoying himself, laughing with his friends, doing something that doesn’t have so much pressure attached to it. You don’t like to take him away from that prematurely, even if you’re missing him.

And you are missing him.

It’s the middle of the night. Maybe past midnight now. You’ve got the windows in your bedroom open, letting in the Monaco sea breeze in a futile attempt to cut through the sweltering heat. The overhead fan whirrs above you. Some mindless show you love drones quietly on the TV, casting you in ever changing colours as you twist and turn in the sheets. Trying to keep your mind off things you shouldn’t be worrying about.

You wait a while, watch an episode.

Then you give in to your selfish tendencies and pull up your Discord chat with Max on your phone, sending off a simple message— come to bed?

You put your phone back on the nightstand and try not to smile too wide when you hear the sim rig thunk and thud as Max climbs out of it a few minutes later. His footsteps on the hardwood floors as he stops by the kitchen and then makes his way to the bedroom.

The door creaks open. Max comes inside, stepping quietly as if you’re already asleep.

“Sorry, liefje,” he says softly, before he ducks into the closet to change, “I didn’t mean to keep you up.”

You shake your head even though he can’t see, “You didn’t. I just couldn’t sleep.”

“You should have told me,” he sighs, coming out of the walk in closet wearing the oversized cat shirt you’d bought him and worn sweat-shorts with holes in the waistband, “I don’t mind cutting the stream short, not for you. They will survive without me.”

You hum and nod placatingly, knowing you wouldn’t ever ask him to do that. At least not for something like this. You’d only sent that message tonight because you knew he’d already been on for hours and would be wrapping up soon anyway.

“Got it,” you say, opening your arms and beckoning him to get into bed already.

He sighs again, an exasperated little exhale through his nose, and then climbs under the single sheet you’ve got draped over you. He shuffles into your space, pressing a wet kiss to the side of your chin as you press a kiss into his forehead and adjust your arms around him.

“Where are the cats?”, you ask, while Max busies himself with turning around.

You feel Max shrug. He’s adjusting the sheet so it sits over him perfectly and then fluffing his pillows so his head sits comfortably. You reach out to scratch the back of his neck, with three fingers, the same way you scratch the cats out of habit.

“Jimmy’s sleeping in the spare room,” he says, reaching blindly behind him to catch your shirt and drag you closer, “Dunno where Sassy is.”

“Causing trouble,” you laugh, slotting into place at his back.

You nudge your nose into his shoulder and sling your arm over his waist. Curling it around to press into his stomach. Your legs end up tangled, one of yours bent and hiked on his hip. Later, he’ll nudge it off because it twists the material of his shorts, but he tolerates it until you’re asleep.

“Mm,” he agrees, finding your hand splayed flat on his tummy and intertwining it with his own, “Always.”

[a-timely-problem]

Lillia: "What's everyone's type?"

Alice: "A bit arrogant"

Jen: "Hero complex"

Teen: "a simp"

Rio: "slightly evil"

Agatha: "Weirdos..."

Lillia: "Weirdos?"

Agatha, pointing at Rio who's randomly doing gymnastics: "Weirdos"

[batbrainrot]

Jason, walking into the kitchen:

Jason: Tim what the fuck are you doing

Tim, confused: ...c-cooking?

Jason: what are you doing to that chicken?????

Tim, holding one fork in each hand: ...seasoning ...it?

Jason, offended: no, the fuck, you're not! why are you using forks to do it instead of grabbing it with your hands like a normal fucking human being?

Tim, feeling personally victimized by raw meat: I'M NOT FUCKING TOUCHING THAT! IT'S A SENSORY NIGHTMARE!

Jason, pointing a gun at him: OUT. NOW.

[leashybebes]

Buck's been a little nervous about their first (technically second, hence the nerves) dinner-and-a-movie date. It's ridiculous because they've done the wedding and they've done bowling with the team and they've done a helicopter flight to see the sunset because Tommy is That Guy. They've even done dinner, and they've done a movie, but the idea of putting them together back to back makes him a little itchy, like the ghost of bi-panic past might seize him by the throat and make him say something ridiculous.

But it's great, because of course it is, it's easy and it's fun and Tommy looks at him like he has never in his life wanted to be anywhere other than seated across from Buck in this little mom and pop place, with their knees bumping under the table and their second pitcher of beer sweating onto the tablecloth.

"Man, that was great. I'm stuffed. You wanna split a dessert?"

Tommy looks at him like Buck's just invited him to stop off at a puppy kicking party before they head to the cinema.

"Oh absolutely not. You want a dessert, you get one, you're not having mine."

"Oh, that's the line, huh?"

Tommy gives him a look. "Evan. You're a great guy, and I've been having a wonderful time with you, but this is going nowhere if you expect me to eat half a dessert."

Buck raises his hands in defeat. "Message received and understood."

"Split a dessert," Tommy mutters, turning his attention to the menu. "Good lord."

Buck watches the seriousness with which Tommy peruses his options, the distaste at the idea of sharing a sweet treat still very obvious on his face and makes a mental note to find out his favourites and learn to cook them like, immediately.

[jonsnowunemploymentera]

The way we discuss prophecy in fandom is genuinely fascinating. GRRM spends so much time showing how different characters have different interpretations of the same thing based on their own cultural contexts. He says that prophecy is tricky to navigate through multiple characters, showing that even the most careful practitioner can get almost everything wrong and fall victim to their own fallacies (see Mel). So tell me why the main takeaway for large parts of this fandom is “prophecy stupid, it doesn’t matter”. My brothers and sisters in R’hllor, GRRM didn’t invent multiple characters (three of whom are main POVs!!) who can see the future for this to be the conclusion. This is a FANTASY series. Please I’m begging, let us be serious 🥲

[lscullzthegreat]

Me and my siblings are about to have a snowball fight tomorrow on a level unseen or heard of since Celegorm saw snow for the first time and the Cain instinct just kicked in and his first reaction was to shove snow into the hood of Russo’s cloak and pull it over his head.

[gojonanami]

thinking about an emergency c-section for one of your kids, and satoru is absolutely a wreck, already had been dozing off at the hospital after you were admitted for labor since “his” baby was taking their sweet time to come — as you put it. and he had taken up residence on the cot beside you, having just laid down, only to find a nurse doing a nightly check on you.

it happens slowly. the medical staff multiply one by one, until there’s a dozen of them, including one nurse on top of you with her hand keeping your baby’s umbilical cord from being wrapped around the baby.

and they don’t let him come in as they wheel you to the operating room, leaving him to pace alone, wondering if he would see your baby or you again. and realizing he didn’t even get a chance to tell you he loved you.

[little-annie]

Just another @strangerthingswritersguild drabble.

G | WC 635 | Steve, Eddie & Robin

It was a typical Thursday evening in Buckingson home -as previously named by a very inebriated Robin and Eddie. Some random record playing on low, the small space lit by nothing but the orange glow of lamp light and candle flame.

To anyone it would sound like a peaceful night at home.

But not just anyone had Eddie for a live-in boyfriend and Robin for a best friend who also happened to be a roommate. And surely no one had the pair of chaos twins constantly bringing in stray animals to their home.

The first time it'd been a bird, some small feathery thing with a damaged wing that Robin carried into their home with her bare hands and made a nest for out of grass clippings Eddie had gathered in the park. They named the chirpy little thing Squeaker, and by the time it's wing had healed the small animal had been on several road trips and one memorable trip to the grocery store. He'd (?) joined the next migration and now every year since when his flock comes through the city, he'll perch himself on their balcony and chitter until Robin or Eddie come out to say hello.

Then there had been Bambi. A small abandoned fawn Eddie somehow managed to sneak past Steve and into Robin's room where the pair cared for the thing until a wildlife rehabilitation centre could pick it up. Steve didn't find out about that one until he answered the call from the rehab centre offering their update on the creature several weeks later.

There was also Bob the baby Racoon, Dorothy the dumpster cat, Roco the abandoned puppy and now, there was Pumpkin, apparently.

Steve had been in the kitchen slaving away over dinner when he heard the soft click of the front door and the insanely uncharacteristic whispers between Eddie and Robin.

And then there was a meow.

A wretched, croaky thing that sounded as if the newest addition to their home had the same nicotine problem as Eddie.

“Shhhh,” Steve could hear Eddie whisper as he continued to stir the pot of pasta sauce he was making, “Don't want Stevie finding out about you just yet.”

“We gotta bath you first baby,” Robin added.

Steve could only imagine the condition of this animal, let alone the event it would be for Robin and Eddie to bathe it.

But as he had a handful of times before, he pretended he hadn't heard a thing and let the chaotic two carry on.

Just the sound of them attempting to wash the cat was rather comical. Of course there was lots of swearing and one quite loud yelp from Eddie, accompanied by Robin's hushed placating. Funny enough they were still trying to be quiet, but Steve could still hear the murmurs of…

“Are you bleeding?”

“Of course I'm bleeding, Buckley. Did you see the claws on this thing.”

“Did you see the nuts on ‘em?”

“Unfortunately, yes. What the fuck?”

“Should they be that big?”

“I don't know. We'll ask Steve.”

“What do you think happened to his tail?”

“Probably froze off like his ears.”

Jesus Christ.

Twenty minutes, several yowls from the cat, one loud painful sounding yelp from Eddie later, Steve is introduced to Pumpkin.

He's a scraggly looking thing.

One eyed, half tailed and missing the majority of his two ears. The definition of a dumpster cat. Steve's sure the cat stunk before the bath the apparently three before him endured.

Robin and Eddie are soaked head to toe. Bloodied and bandaged. Hair in utter disarray. They look exhausted. But they also look to be just beaming with excitement.

The cat on the other hand, held tightly in Robin's arms looks less than thrilled.

“Steve,” Robin starts, joined by Eddie a moment later, “Sweetheart,”

“Meet Pumpkin.”

[plumbus-central]

doodle dump #8 babey

[flowery-laser-blasts]

Do you have troubles leaving the bed during the December months? 😗💙💚

Edit: thank you @miss-doodle-jester for pointing out to me that Drakken looks like sleeping pose Garfield

[jisungderman]

[thelikesoffinn]

musicals like epic are at fault for dumb people believin they know shit about history when they're don't. No you don't know anything about ancient rome just bcos you listend to a dumb ass musical, you're still as uneducated as before so stop flexin

Oh shit, for real? I can't believe the Musical where greek Gods randomly drop McGuffins on a greek dude that is travelling the high seas and the underworld, where he meets cyclopes, sirens, ghosts and various sea monsters to get back to the greek island Ithaca where is wife, son and his probably thirty year old dog are waiting for him isn't teaching me about roman history.

What tipped you off? Was it the island that is floating in the sky? The bag that is filled with a storm? The trojan horse? Or the fact that there's approximately twenty greek gods and critters from greek mythology talking and hanging out with Odysseus?

[hemlocksweetcandy]

Ranpo has the loudest sneeze known to man and after he sneezes he always looks like he just sneezed out his soul

Poe sneezes like a kitten