#dash answers

[tumblasha]

Hiii i saw your tags on my seatit post! Im so glad to see another tumblr person that got cams keychains or even went to that show🥴i was hoping to meet people there that r on tumblr. I wonder if i met or if i saw you (i was giving out bracelets with my brother) im also putting my phil keychain in a shrine hehe

wait, yes i think i met you! i remember meeting a pair of siblings handing out bracelets :DD long live seatit! it was so fun :))

[arsenicflame]

Bonus round! Do you use a queue tag?

[willgrahamscock]

why re you eveywhere on this stupid site

every side of my dash 😟 i dont know why but i see your url every single day

why are you coming to my house and complaining that I live there

[rumiraclemi]

non-qsmp watcher checking in on the livebloggers like

[canisalbus]

i would like to imagine that after machete dies, vasco starts collecting red things. red, like the soles of machetes shoes and the hems of his cassocks, the front of his nightgowns after a heavy nosebleed. or maybe he collects pink things, like machete's nose and ears and paw pads, or things white like his fur. he never collects anything black, however. red like the hems but never black like the fabric. black is too sad. it's grief, it's unfathomable loss and it means admitting machete is actually gone, stolen from the world. but ludovica is there, and she indulges his collections in little ways on the occasion. it's a small comfort, her love for her husband in their lavender way.

.

[gentlemancowboy]

Gayest Dean Moment Not Involving Cas Number 3 ➼ Church Confession

Bonus:

[bixels]

I'm not getting into The Giving Tree discourse...

[puppetmaster13u]

Prompt 216

“So we all know that Damian is trying to sneak in a new animal, right?” 

 “I mean, yeah, he only starts sneaking around like that when he’s sneaking something he shouldn’t be, and the box was pretty obvious…” 

“Are we going to ask about it or…” 

“Nah, plausible deniability when Alfred or Bruce inevitably finds it.” 

Later, Duke will regret listening to Dick and Steph, because there is now a massive fucking dragon glowering down at all of them from the back yard with nine heads. Each of which do not seem pleased. It might be time to question what Damian might have brought home this time…

[ctimenefic]

i’m obsessed w ur mean dom george and his boy scout knots, even more so w the events of this weekend and the weird amount of flirting him and max have been doing recently!! i could totally be barking up the wrong tree with gax vibes but they have been really fun this year

Okay forgive me nonny for typing directly into the answer box, the typos will be horrendous, but I'm in a tiny french café right now and unfortunately dom george gax has seized my mind so:

Max Verstappen propping up the VIP bar at the Bellagio is not George's problem at 9.04 on Monday, when his hangover is beating a tattoo between his eyebrows that even his largest pair of sunglasses can't hide. His GPDA hours are strictly 9-5, Wednesday through Sunday. On Mondays, he gets peace, he gets quiet, he gets to order precisely one hair of the dog Bloody Mary and crunch through the celery in private.

Max orders another gin and tonic without tearing his eyes from the door, and George sighs.

He'd texted himself, last night, somewhere between the first club and the second. Assumed, naturally, that Danny's one-man tour of the US would have to hit Vegas for Max's fourth, even if he was conspicuously absent from the race itself. But when he checks now, there's still no reply.

His "G'morning" rumbles out, frightfully inarticulate, throat still whisky-burnt. Max spares him a bleary glance.

"Is it?" He sounds dopey drunk. His mouth looks sticky. George's mum loves a G&T too; she used to tuck him in at night, suddenly fond and warm and cuddly, and the smell would tickle his nose, comforting and disorienting in equal measure. It's never the gin that lingers, always the lime and the lemon. Max should switch to Hendricks, with its cucumber twist. It would suit him better.

"Are you staying here?" he asks. Max blinks, makes a nod that's half a shrug. Good enough. "Are you packed? When's your flight?"

"It's my plane," Max says mulishly, like he hasn't got at least three friends - or maybe it should be colleagues at this point - booked in for AirMax. Not George, of course. George is travelling with Toto. He's quite looking forward to it, ten hours in quiet approval, thumbing through The Times on an iPad, starting from the Sport section.

He doesn't bother pointing out the obvious, but he does allow himself a couple of disapproving tuts. It's surprising when Max's shoulders curl, slightly, a flush crawling up from under the collar of his hideous team jacket.

George checks his watch. He's got time, he supposes, to play the good Samaritan.

(When Max's red eyes flick back to the door, he thinks he might've done it anyway, his fifteen minute buffer be damned)

"Let's get you to bed, then, shall we?" It doesn't take much to haul Max upright. They're all easy enough to throw about, if you've got the strength. But he's not expecting Max to tuck into his side, nod into his shoulder and chest.

He manoeuvres them both to the lifts with minimal interruption, which is a relief. Max is more pliable than at the bar, but practically useless. He's on one of the keycard-only floors, because of course he is, four time champ and maddeningly casual about it. George has to rummage through his pockets for it; Max makes an insultingly shocked noise when George slides long fingers into the front pocket of his jeans. "Don't get excited," he scolds.

Something twitches under his fingertips. The firm hard line of the keycard is nudged into his grip.

George raises his eyebrows, tilts his chin, and turns to tap it, secure their no-stop ride through a ludicrous number of floors.

Then he spins back, and Max's inordinately large mouth is fastened to his jaw.

Detaching him takes some effort. "We are going to bed," Max argues, as George cranes his neck away.

The lifts had seemed too big before, American big, a fun house of mirrors exaggerating the gilt and gaud of it all. Now he could do with a couple of square miles more between him and the drunk determined look in Max's eye.

He's looking straight at George, but not like he's ever looked at him before. There's nothing to recognise in those eyes.

("I saw Max in the bar," he'll tell media in three days, a wry smirk on like cheap perfume. "But he didn't see me." And then he'll get the recognition he wants, surprise and a flicker of heat, quickly doused. A bit mean, to do it for the cameras. But he'll know by then, that Max likes it mean.)

"No," he says now. He fits his hand across Max's chest, between the swell of his pecs. Palm against his sternum, thumb and fingertips pressed to his collarbones. The span of it makes Max look small. His eyes have gone lidded.

"No," he says again, and presses firmly. Max is lax against the mirrored wall, mouth still open. Drunk, but neither of them are passing a sobriety test right now. George's driver is probably getting a coffee right now, checking the time. George won't make him wait. He's considerate like that.

Four floors zip by in quick succession.

"Not until I say," he tells Max, firm. Forgiving.

He steps into Max's space slowly. Makes him wait, straining against the pressure of George's hand, until he deigns to lean down and lick into that gin-sour mouth.

Max is sloppy, uncoordinated. George keeps his hand where it is but lets Max grab at his waist, his arse. He grinds like a puppy when George slips a thigh between his, but his dick's either even smaller than the paddock gossip says, or suffering from one too many doubles.

It doesn't matter. It's always been enough for George to be wanted. To grant, or withhold.

It doesn't even sting now, when they're surprised to want him. All of his victories will always be a shock.

He stops Max from straying up his jawline or down his neck. He doesn't want to spend his flight sticky, grime against the prickle of a fresh shave. Keeps it to kissing, a light nip at Max's bee-stung bottom lip when he gets pushy.

He's got one eye on the dial, though, so when the door opens on Max's floor, with its implausible colonnade, George has stepped back, just a friendly finger and thumb holding Max's chin. The blue of his irises has almost disappeared behind the black of his pupil.

"Bed," George orders, sharp, and Max stumbles out with more speed than George thinks he'd get sober. Sober Max would fight all the way down; it'd take hours to get him sweet. It'd be time well spent.

He follows at his own pace, pleased to see Max holding the door open for him, hands shoved deep into his pockets in a poor show of casualness. It's lost the second George steps inside and Max is on him again, fingers scrabbling to pull George's shirt out of his pressed slacks.

When he pushes Max off this time, he wraps his hand against the base of his throat. Squeezes, just a little.

"Shirt. Jeans. Off. Bed," he orders, clipped and quiet. Max looks delightful when they hit home, stunned and open and young. George quite badly wants to put his thumb on Max's tongue, watch him drool around it. But he's being good; he's got a plane to catch. He holds himself still for the clumsy minutes it takes Max to comply, waits until Max is flat on the bed, duvet kicked down to the foot of the bed.

Bless him, he's still soft in his boxers. But his face is enough for George to know.

Daniel had liked it too, when George had put him on his back and told him to stay still. That cocky grin wiped off his face for a long minute, brown eyes blown wide. Maybe that's their problem, Max and Danny. No one to give the orders.

He allows himself just this: a trail of fingers, up the length of Max's leg, over the meat of his thigh, the softness of his stomach. A flick against a hard nipple, and a light chuckle at the full body jerk Max makes under him.

And then, with a flourish worthy of a Vegas magician, he yanks the duvet up to Max's neck. "Sleep it off, you madman."

Max's fury is a series of choked, inarticulate noises George would relish extracting in other circumstances. Luckily, Max has not regained any of his mobility; he fights against the duvet, but George has easily enough time to tuck himself up against his waistband, hidden by the fall of his trousers, and make it to the door.

"Congratulations again," he throws back, before it closes behind him. He finds he means it.

He's on the pavement, monogrammed carry on in hand, just as his driver pulls up. He makes a note to tell Alex, with some elisions. He could use a reminder of the value of punctuality.

There's a sign on the freeway, just before the airport. "What happens in..." and so on. Somehow, he's not convinced Max will see it that way come Qatar. But-

It lingers, the sight of Max's face. Not spitting angry, or dumb with lust, the need to submit. But tired and empty and hopeful nonetheless, eyes fixed on the entrance of the bar.

Disappointed not to see you in Vegas, he texts Daniel as Toto and Susie settle in opposite him. You should make it up to me.

That, Danny replies to.

to my winner? 👅👅💦

Yes, George types. Both of us.

[starlene]

Musical theatre questions for old and cynical musical theatre fans

How did you first get into musical theatre?

What is the oldest musical you love?

What is the newest musical you love?

Who is your favourite musical theatre composer?

Who is your favourite musical theatre lyricist?

Who is your favourite musical theatre director?

Who is your favourite musical theatre actor?

What is your favourite Broadway musical?

What is your favourite musical that's never been on Broadway?

What is your favourite non-English musical?

What is your favourite overture?

What is your favourite opening number?

What is your favourite act 1 finale?

What is your favourite act 2 opener?

What is your favourite act 2 finale?

What is your favourite female solo?

What is your favourite male solo?

What is your favourite female duet?

What is your favourite male duet?

What is your favourite mixed-gender duet?

What is your favourite trio?

What is your favourite group/ensemble song?

What's a song you love from a musical you don't otherwise like?

Which three cast recordings would you take with you to a deserted island?

What catches your attention in a musical and makes it interesting to you? Is there a subgenre of musicals you especially like?

What's the latest musical you've seen? What did you think about it?

What's a musical you're looking forward to seeing?

What's a musical that you saw ages ago that you're still not over? What about it made you love it so much?

What's a musical that you used to really like but don't anymore? What made you fall out of love with it?

What's a musical that's grown on you since you first saw it or listened to it? What made you appreciate it more?

Is there a musical that means a lot to you that isn't one of your favourites? What made you feel that way about it?

Talk about the worst production of a musical you like that you've seen.

Talk about a performance in a role that you can't forget.

Who's your musical theatre blorbo? Talk about them.

Who's your musical theatre otp? Talk about them.

Do musicals in general make you cry? Is there a musical, a song, or a scene that makes you cry especially hard?

Is there a musical lyric, line, moment, etc. that lives in your head rent-free?

What's the weirdest musical theatre related experience you've had?

Share a happy memory related to musical theatre.

Talk about something musical-related that annoys you.

Share an unpopular opinion about musical theatre.

Do you own any fun musical memorabilia, or do you maybe have a musical-related tattoo? Show and/or tell.

You have to do musical karaoke. Which song are you singing?

If you got to direct any musical, which one would you choose? Talk about how you would stage it.

What's a musical that doesn't exist yet that you would like to see?

Is there a musical you like listening to but not watching, or vice versa? What makes you feel that way about it?

Is there a musical that you looked forward to seeing that disappointed you? Why did it fail to live up to your expectations?

What's the worst musical you've ever seen? What made it so bad?

If you have to choose just one, what is your favourite musical of all times?

[tumblasha]

List 5 things that make you happy, then put this in the askbox for the last 10 people who reblogged something from you! get to know your mutuals and followers! :D!!

peruvian food

a hot shower

spending a day in my apartment

adding a new picture / ticket / scrap of paper to my room's walls

sharing a meal with a friend / friends <3

[paynomindtotheinsanity]

DIVERSION!

...Did it work?

[such-a-daydreamer]

I know you might get this often but the way you draw mystery man pleases my eyes so much

I actully don't, so thank you! Your compliment pleases my eyes so much ^^

Have this complimentary art of the mystery man himself as a thanks!!

[simplydnp]

What do you think Dan and Phil will do in 2025?what kinda mischief will they get themselves in this time.

i'm a little sus of their 'prepare for the march thing' that they've alluded to in a preshow qna. there's also the 'you haven't seen dan and phil 2.0 yet' comment. but mischief? hmmm

i forsee a wdapteo 5 in our future. people have suggested it as 'promo' for the uk leg, but most of those shows are sold out already (and have been for months LMAO)

i desperately hope they film one of the london shows, so tit can be posted to yt

im also so sus of the iceland show, i'll say it. there's gonna be Something that goes down, either at the show or after.

february is gonna be quiet; they need the rest and so do we.

march: dog. and we'll all go wild. his name will either be john or barkypants.

im not sure how they'll top this year's april fools, but i'm sure it'll be much less produced and even more insane (just cause i don't see them returning to dapc)

tit is finally posted to youtube, they sell the merch online, though no dad hats bc they can't keep up with the paperwork for all of us

they couldn't do it this year bc tour so i'm predicting dnp pride merch

will they travel for summer again? i think they enjoyed turkiye. they'll find a way to be even more boyfriends if they do

they give confirmation that the phouse will never be finished actually

...september is a great time to get married wouldn't you agree

they clown on us so bad by being bert and ernie for halloween

calendar theme: dan and phil and a goddamn good night's sleep

they're gonna do gamingmas and none of us will be ready for the 'ultimate' video on the 24th

(my not so secret wish this year is for a dan iom picture again 🙏)

[charmwasjess]

No one: Absolutely fucking no one:

Me: I find Sith-era Count Dooku to be a tremendously shippable character, but for the exact opposite reasons people typically find Obi-Wan (charming, flirty, social, handsome) popular to pair.

By comparison, Dooku is old, miserable, a desperately lonely unstable center held up by scaffolding of sneering don’t-give-a-fuck. He’s literally killed the last several people who showed any interest in him. Of course, I have my favorite pairing for him, (winking at Sifo-Dyas’s frozen corpse in a glass fairytale coffin in the basement of Castle Serenno) but I support and applaud fans who ship him otherwise -- Sidious, Jango, Grievous, go ham, etc, it’s very easy for me to picture. Of course, the sex is a net loss for the galaxy, it doesn’t fix anybody and it sure makes everyone worse, but it seems very conceivable that it happened. There’s a core, pathetic neediness in the character, and a desire to find shortcuts to replace the humanity he’s rejected within himself. In this essay–

[jojo-the-puppy]

Hi pupp hi puppuh hi pup pup puppy

You should totally bend over your couch or bed etc. Or show us how good you can beg maybe. Anything on all fours :3 drooling is pretty epic too if you're into that. Just some suggestions if you need em :3

HI MUTT HI MUTT HEYY HI HI HI

some silly ones for you :3