#these are still open my friends

[wolfiemcwolferson]

if ur still doing spotify wrapped fics, 5 pls!!

This is more Del Water Gap - Alone Together. You didn't pick a pairing, but this is screaming Maxiel at me. This is angsty and a little bittersweet. Previous F1 Journalist Daniel and Driver Max. (This got out of hand.)

Sometimes Daniel is in an airport and he catches a flash of a Grand Prix on a TV in a bar or he'll be out with some friends and he'll run into someone he knew from college and they'll ask hey, I thought you were doing that racing thing and Daniel will shake a little bit.

Sitting on a barstool in LA, waiting to meet-up with one of the kid's on the American USA team, he feels it now, the ache where F1 used to sit - the ache where Max used to sit.

But he gave it all up when Max gave him up and -

The kid shows, fresh-faced and eager and shakes Danny's hand. The article will be good, of course. Daniel charms and weasles and prods at all the right places and that's why he gets paid the money he does - in America, for sports he doesn't actually care about.

It makes him sound so dramatic, he circles back around to thinking of Max that night in his hotel - like he always fucking does when he's alone.

Max working up the courage to ask Daniel out to dinner throughout the entire season - Daniel accepting out of pity - Daniel falling hard and fast and furious and then basing his life around him - the man that was going to bring glory back to Red Bull.

It didn't matter how many times Daniel laughed it off and said don't die while Max was sneaking out of his hotel room and it didn't matter how many times Max and Daniel said it wouldn't happen -

Max went off and needed to play house with some nice girl and Daniel spent three GP's in a row hiding from him and he knew he had to go.

Because Max was the missing piece of him or whatever romantic bullshit he used to think about the two of them - the mirror of his soul, the person who saw the worst in him and loved him anyways.

Because it was the worst in the end. Daniel begging Max not to go and Max telling him he had to just for them to switch positions the next morning. Daniel shouting at him to just fucking go while Max cried on his chest and Max and Daniel shouting the awful bits of hateful shit at each other they had gathered up over a three year relationship -

Daniel puts on his running shoes and goes down to the gym so he can forget forget forget.

After LA, Daniel goes to New York before spending a week in Nashville and then he catches a game in Denver before flying home - to Australia.

Grace asks him four times if he's seeing anyone and then Michelle asks much softer if he's talked to anyone from the paddock lately.

Daniel books an earlier flight to his...well, he guesses it's his home.

There's a cabin in fucking Montana. Everyone had thought it was a joke until he did it - bought the damn thing.

Daniel has a joke about how he had traveled for years in flashy circles, but the truth is that he's an idiot pressing gauze to an oozing wound.

It had been a thing with Max. My contract will end when I'm only 28. I could...we could escape to America. Live in the middle of nowhere Montana, yes? All this money has to be good for something.

No one knows, of course. Someone would have intervened, probably. Scotty. Scotty would have intervened.

He's here until Christmas. Alone and working on the book he's supposed to be writing and - he's here until Christmas and then he'll fly to Hawaii and get ready to interview some flashy American Football College Kid.

He tortures himself and watches the last race of the season - wakes up at 6 AM to flip it on and text steady, ribbing commentary to Sam about his own commentary and Max wins, of course.

Daniel turns off the television before the podium.

He's in town buying a couple of propane tanks and more rock salt and some food. He does have to do that occasionally when Janet asks him you know who bought Gerald's old place? Daniel frowns and shakes his head. Thought it might be one of your fancy athletes. Moving in here because you can't keep your trap shut.

It's gentle, but only a half joke. It took Janet a full year before she would talk to him in more than one syllable answers.

He goes home - works on his book. Ignores the text Scotty sends asking Daniel to call.

Max Verstappen on standing in his driveway, hands shoved in the pockets of a puffy coat at 10:28 on a Thursday. Daniel knows the set of his shoulders and the slop of his face even this far away. No one else will ever look like him. No one else will ever have this kind of intrinsic draw on Daniel's entire being.

Daniel steps out on his front porch, wearing socks and a hoodie, absolutely freezing.

"What do you want, Max?" Daniel hears how exhausted his own voice sounds and he wonders if Max can hear it too.

Max is still walking towards him. "Scotty talks a lot when he's drunk."

Fuck. "Yeah, well. Everything he says is shit." Daniel says - finally talking because Max is at the bottom of the staircase, head tilted up to look at Daniel. "What are you doing here? Where's your car?"

Max shrugs, hands still in his pockets. Daniel hears his coat make that slick crinkle noise. "Don't like to drive."

The pieces fall into place for Daniel now. "Gerald's old place?"

"If you're talking about that luxury cabin down the road, yeah. It's mine." Max laughs at his own joke.

Fucking Scotty. Daniel's socks are wet. "You'd better come inside. You'll freeze to death and Christian will have my head."

Max is knocking his snow boots against the porch and he gives a little dry laugh. "What was it you always said? I was selling my 20's? Well, not anymore."

Daniel spins two steps past the doorframe where Max is. They're too close. Far too close. "What."

"There's never been anyone else, Danny." Max says in that voice. The one that preceeded something that would wreck him entirely. "I know you don't - but, maybe if you still -" He shrugs again.

Daniel sees it there. In his eyes. The love they had managed to carve out together back then - before when Daniel thought love could conquer all, when he wasn't so bruised by the hiding and the secrets and the way they had beaten each other against the rocks of F1.

Before they had become the water that broke on that rock.

"Danny," he says again, slipping a hand from his coat. "I retired last week."

Danny breaks this time, curling his head down into Max's chest and heaving a great big sob.

"I didn't have the courage then," Max whispers into his hair, hand on the back of his neck. "But I think I'd like to have the courage now."

"I'm not moving into that house, Max. It's half haunted." Daniel chokes out in between tears.

Max brings his other hand out of the jacket, wrapping it around Daniel, finally bringing their bodies together. "That is fine, Daniel. I already set up the New York Times subscription for this address anyway. I can do the crossword and you can cook me real bacon now since I am not in training."

Daniel laughs now because it all may change, but damnit if it all doesn't stay the same.

[cassieoh]

A whole new perspective

[skateboardtotheheart]

there is just something about the difference between edwin's love interests and having the cat king's reaction to edwin in hell being "i'll be waiting when he gets back" vs charles "no version of this where i don't come get you" rowland convincing a powerful trans-dimensional being to open a door to hell just so he could get him back

i am insane

[each-uisge-enthusiast]

the modern villainisation of demeter will never cease to enrage me bc it wasn’t ENOUGH to just take a story of a girl being torn from her home from everyone who loved her and dragged away to be forced into marriage and twist and corrupt it until it was a romance story about female empowerment that wasn’t ENOUGH they HAD to take the original hero of the story the mother who went to every length to find her daughter again to bring her home and demonise her character until she was this horrific overbearing unloving mother. overprotective controlling without love. they turn the story of her grief at her YOUNG daughter being torn from her without her knowledge into the story of a misunderstood bad boy and a horrible cruel mother who won’t give him a chance and i really find it sickening. it’s ironic, that the ever misogynist age of hellenistic greece, has a better grasp of how disgusting and horrifying this situation was that a modern, self proclaimed ‘feminist’ era.

[bluerosefox]

Saying Sorry Will Never Be Enough

Feeling a bit angsty so I had this idea.

Danny is dating one of the Bats/Birds, and everything is going great, amazing even! They know each other secrets (from powers to everything etc), they have a wonderful place to live (even if its in Gotham), Danny is in college on the way to becoming a space engineer (and he does side jobs for unrestful ghosts), he's actually getting sleep again since leaving Amity Park, gets along with their friends and family (those who Danny or his partner still talk to, up to the writer), there is even talk about marriage and perhaps adoption/kids in the future between Danny and the Bat/Bird he's dating!

Everything is setting up for a good life in his future, something Danny didn't think could have after his accident. He was happy finally, and currently packing up his old apartment because he's moving in with his partner in a few days.

So he felt like his core was being pulled out of him when he opens his apartment door one day receiving a knock to find his parents, who had hadn't seen since they kicked him out of the house after coming clean about being Phantom (their words of anger and denial that their son was 'dead' and now a monster, still hurt)

Sure they didn't attack him or proclaim he's dead but still their last words and anger HURT.

Danny didn't give them a chance to open their mouths, both looking nervous and guilty, before he slams the door close and turns invisible, grabs his phone, and fly's out of his apartment to his partner's place in a panic attack.

His partner, isn't happy.

[eekitseve]

Where having a penpal gets you

[spielzeugkaiser]

The ages in this show!! I have made some jokes about this before, but it gets me - with aging Ciri up and bringing her closer to Jaskiers age when they meet I can not help but draw parallels. Like Geralt bonded way differently with both of them (which makes sense because Ciri has been his Child surprise since birth and Jaskier just randomly turned up one day and followed him like a puppy) but it's so funny to me. also I'm 100% sure Jaskier was horny as fuck from the beginning so there was a whole different vibe from the get go

[manchesterau]

happy 15 years of dan and phil!

[spacedlexi]

i thought we were gonna kiss up here are you still not over your dead girlfriend

[herebecritters]

Can you draw flippy x flaky please

You’re lucky I love them ❤️

[freshworms]

Hello hello hello hello hello hello hello hello hello hello hello hello hello hello hello hello-

SHUT UP!!!!!!!

[bizarrelovesquare]

Despicable Me 4 (2024)

[lokimobius]

"Listen. That wasn’t tactical. I lost it." LOKI S02E02 “Breaking Brad”

[lovesickeros]

☆ de fontaine

{☆} characters furina {☆} notes cult au, imposter au, drabble, gender neutral reader {☆} warnings angst, suicidal thoughts, hurt / no comfort {☆} word count 1.4k

This wasn't fair. This wasn't fair. This wasn't fair!

She thought, for one moment, she could put the mask down and breathe – for one moment of daydreaming, she thought she could just be Furina. She thought she would finally get to live the live she should've had in the first place, the life she threw away to play God to an audience who saw her as nothing but a circus animal, dancing to their whims. Furina just wanted to be selfish for one brief and fleeting moment..and it was gone before she could even grasp it in her hand. A comet soaring past far out of her reach.

She can barely keep her hands from violently shaking as she looks down at them – broken and bloody and more a corpse then a person – and she feels so numb she can't even feel the rain pelting against her back. None of this is fair, she wants to scream, why is it always me? But her voice is silent beneath the torrent of rain. She wonders if the ocean would take her if she sank into it's depths – just for a moment, she wonders how it would feel to finally be able to sleep at ease.

Furina is tired.

But Furina is nothing if not useful, isn't she?

So she forces her feet to move, dragging against the stone beneath her heels, and drags their bloodied body into the nearest empty building, letting the rain do the work of washing away the smeared blood following her path. The smell makes her feel sick, the feeling of it sticking to her hands and gloves makes her lightheaded, but she persists. Because Furina is useful, because Furina won't let them die out in the rain, because Furina won't stand by and just let them rot on the streets like some..pest.

Furina wants to go home. She wants to sleep and she isn't she if she wants to wake up, this time. But she keeps going anyway.

Because it's all she's ever done, and the habit sticks.

An Archon she may not be, not anymore, but the expectations of five hundred years still linger like eyes on the inside of her skull. They watch her, pry and prod at her thoughts, mocking laughter and judging eyes following her as she forces herself to dance to the song they weave with glee. Furina never stepped off that stage – she's still there, she thinks, watching the crowd stare at her in disdain as the curtain call looms above her like a guillotine. She still hears Neuvillette deliver her damnation and salvation with a trembling voice, still feels her hair stand on end when electro crackled like the crack of the whip, Clorinde's blade aimed at her like a loaded gun.

She's trapped on that stage and she never left, not really.

She hates it. She thinks she hates them, but it's not their fault. They didn't ask for this, didn't ask for everyone to turn against them, didn't ask for her to save them. Neither did she..yet here they are, she thinks.

She tries to tell herself she's in control this time, though. She can stop performing her part in this horrible, bloody play any time she wants. It makes her feel better, just for a little while, if she convinces herself she's still Furina, painfully human.

And Furina has always been good at lying.

It's the believing that's the hard part.

There isn't time for her to wallow in her own self pity, though. They're still bleeding out onto the dusty, creaky floorboards of some random, broken down house and she's just standing there as the blood stains the wood. She can fix it – she's good at fixing things. She's done nothing but fix things – try to, anyway – for five hundred years. She can fix a little wound, how hard could it be? Her hands are clenched so tight they ache as she kneels down, wincing at the creak of the floorboards beneath her heels– she hesitates just long enough to wonder if she's making a mistake before she peels away just enough of the outer layer of their clothes to see the deep, bloody gash across their chest. She tries not to think about it – it's deep, too deep, and she feels dizzy just looking at it, but she's handled worse, right?

Furina can fix it. That's what she's good at.

She doesn't feel so confident when she tries to wrack her brain for..something. Five hundred years, and a little wound stumps her? No, she had to have learned something, right? She's decidedly not trying to buy time because she's panicking, parsing through hundreds of years of memories like flipping through a book. Furina isn't made for this, not really – she's running on nothing but adrenaline and she's really not sure what she's doing, but she's trying. And just like before, it won't be enough, will it?

She'll fall short again – she'll be too late to fix it before she's alone again.

Furina was an Archon..used to be. What use would she have for that sort of knowledge? Which makes her predicament all the more harrowing and bleak. What was she supposed to do?

Furina had heard it first hand, that vitriol in Neuvillette's voice. She isn't sure she's ever heard him that..angry before. She's not sure he would listen to her if she tried, either. And that scares her more then anything. All of Fontaine was up in arms about this..imposter, yet here she was, staring down at them bleeding out in front of her, and she was trying to save them.

Why? Why is she throwing away her only chance at normalcy for a fraud? Why didn't she just turn them in?

They were dying – that should've been a good thing, shouldn't it? So why didn't it feel like it?

"Why you?" Her voice breaks as she speaks in harsh tones, grabbing the front of their shirt in trembling, bloodied hands. "Why now?" She wants to scream, to demand answers they can't give, to claw back the reprieve she was promised after five hundred years of agony..and all she can do is sob into their chest, pleading for an answer that will not come. "Why me?"

Silence is their answer, and it hangs heavy on her trembling shoulders as she cries.

Of course they don't, she thinks bitterly, no one has ever answered her pleas spoken in hushed sobs. Not her other self and certainly not them.

Furina has always been alone. Furina will always be alone.

Because Furina never left that stage, never left that moment when she looked at herself in the mirror and took up a mantle too heavy for her to bear. She always finds her way back eventually. There's no one on the other side anymore – she stands alone on a stage, waiting for an inevitable end she isn't sure will come.

"Please," She pleads through tears and choked sobs, clinging to them like they are all that keeps her from sinking. "Please don't leave me, too." The words burn on her tongue – how pathetic is she that she craves companionship from the bloodied body of the imposter? Perhaps she's truly lost her mind after all these years..perhaps she's finally gone mad. She must have.

But their presence is like the first feeling of gentle warmth upon her skin as the sun crests the horizon, like the gentle lap of tides along her heels, the sway of branches and leaves as the wind blows through them like an instrument all it's own. They are the soothing sound of rain against the window as she watches the dreary skies in fond longing, the first bloom of spring as color blooms upon the landscape like paint had been spilled across the hills and valleys.

They are like the faint spark she carefully nurtures and stokes, so fragile even the smallest wind could blow it out like a candle. She cradles it within her palms, pleads with whoever will listen – prays that someone finally listens, because if not for her, then for them.

She's failed to protect too much already, let too many people with so much trust in her fall between the cracks of her fingers like grains of sand. She won't let them go – she can't.

If nothing else, if she couldn't be saved when she begged for salvation from that five hundred year long agony, even if she never got that chance..

Furina will make sure they do.

[xxplastic-cubexx]

May I offer you a hastily drawn picture to wish you a good get-through-the-week? :3

HELLO ??????? HELLO hot gluing this to my eyes IMMEDIATELY thank you so much i feel myself becoming stronger already

[worstloki]

love the idea of the Avengers adding new members but being stingy about rooms so the OG Avengers each get their own but Bucky and Loki are forced to share one under the guise of it being 'healthy interaction'