#Maaaaaas

[dawnofus]

ｰ(☆∀☆)/”

[matteoberrettini]

bc of reasons stavo pensando al fatto che molte persone si stupiscono quando dico che ho fatto il classico e un paio di persone mi hanno proprio detto apertamente che è perché sembro troppo nice per il classico lmao la mia risposta al "è che sembrano tutti che si credono migliori degli altri e se la tirano" è stata che vorrei poter dire che è uno stereotipo ma ............ non nella mia esperienza❤️ sicuramente not all classicisti ecc ecc però ecco

[genextsofuniverse]

Liam quem são seus melhores amigos?

Liam: Bom, tem a Kat. Mas ela é minha prima, então não sei se conta. Meu melhor amigo mesmo se chama Michael Sousa, ele é um agente do MI6. Nos conhecemos durante uma das minhas primeiras missões, e não nos separamos mais.

[akiumzeno]

BABE WAKE UP BYUNG OR HAN IS GOING INTO THE MIST!!!

[slmcreative]

minimalist kitty from a base sketch

[viisiond]

kinships replied:

Hanabi vc: He maybe trash but he's my treasure <3

"Simp.~"

[applesnapplepie]

O MA GAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAADDDDDDDDDDD SOOOOOOOOO CUTTTEEEEEEE I NEED EVERY ONE TO SEE THIS LITTLE GUY

[transcomputer]

on another note my grandma threw away the flaming hot cheetos i got fuck this earth.....they dont even have that here in the philippines I HAD TO GET THAT IMPORTED

[jlemonster]

una vez por día abro mercado libre y miro máquinas de coser......... pensamientos costureros...........

[try-to-use-supplies-art]

one of the worst things about growing up and having obligations is that you have to pick and choose which hobbies you can pursue in one day- you cannot do all of them all the time

[hxbiris-m]

@loyalhearts said: "Why didn't you tell me you were bleeding?"

If there's a reprimand for Talia there, it's soft, tempered by the concern and gentle curiosity in the other Quincy's voice. His hands are busy patching her wounds with that same careful focus, cradling her arm in one cool, steadying hand while the other dabs light touches around the worst of it to avoid any unneeded pain.

Though Uryu doesn't look up, his attention is split between his task and her answer, truly wondering at her reason. If he hadn't noticed, she would have had to deal with this on her own...

Eyebrows furrow the slightest bit as his own memories of doing just that are recalled. He doesn't want her to have to.

UNPROMPTED ASKS || ALWAYS ACCEPTING!

SHE DOESN’T ANSWER AT first, feeling him patching the injury that was on her arm. His hand was delicate in patching the wound, gentle even as she looks at him.

She at first looked sad a little at his words, not wanting to have worried him. It wasn’t the worst injury she had, and she was honestly more concerned about the others than herself.

It wasn’t like she was trying to bother him with such things, but she knew Uryu. She knew that he probably wouldn’t have let her handle this alone.

She was grateful for his help.

“Sorry if I worried you.” She speaks watching him tend to her wound on her arm.

She admits truefully. She was never one to lie, especially not to him.

“I didn’t hide it intentionally.” She says, “I was a little too focused on the battle.” She admits, “I didn’t realize, but I promise to be more careful.” It was something to soothe him. She’s not the most reckless of the group but she does acknowledge that she needed to be a bit more careful.

[the-storm-chaser]

'That is true. I do need to channel...um...how would I describe it...lifeforce? Energy?' She clearly lacked the technical words for something like this. 'That goes into the blade, and thats how the crystal manifests its power. Admittedly, if emotions get the better of me, it will trigger it whether I want to to or not...like back then' There was a dry chuckle, shaking her head.

'I mean that's why I wear mostly leathers and fabric. I don't need lightning striking me when I'm trying to fight!'

She took another sip of her drink, her free hand raising up.

'It was an accident, I assure you.' She lowered the tankard, her expression growing...sheepish.

'When I first recieved the blade...I'll be honest, I had no idea what to do, and neither did the monks. We spent weeks trying to figure out how it was supposed to work...and I might have damaged it in fustration. Completely and utterly my fault... teenagers....right?.

"I heard through the grapevine that it's your birthday. So...Happy Birthday, Sky! I'm treating you to a meal at the inn." Noelle says with a smile.

'Miss Noelle!' The blonde turned to the mage, a soft smile on her face.

'I admit... I'm not sure how you heard it, but I can't deny it.' There was a chuckle as she rubbed the back of her neck, although freezing at the proposition.

'I- Noelle you don't have to!' Her hand dropped slightly, glancing to the side. 'I-I mean, It's appreciated don't get me wrong, but you don't have to-'

[solstheimtxt]

MAMAAAAAA

[unadulteratedsoulsweets]

A DC X DP IDEA #48

Grandpa

Imagine dis…

This inspired my fridge being full again, here’s a flash back

Me: Thanks for treating me at my favorite restaurant, Grandpa, but you really don't have to do this every time I visit your house.

Grandpa: Don't worry about it, kid.

Me: I'm *realage*, definitely not a kid, Grandpa...

Grandpa: As long as you're not in your 30s yet, you're still a kid. Come on, pick whatever dessert you want, it's on me.

Me: No thanks, I'm saving up for a special treat.

Grandpa: Didn't you hear me, brat? (fondly) I said it's on me. And what treat are you saving up for? Did my daughter didn’t gave you enough pocket money again?

Me: No, it's not like that, Grandpa. You and Mom give me plenty. It's just that there's this *brand* I've been dying to get ever since I first tried it, so I'm saving up to buy it.

*a few months later*

Me: MAAAAAA!

Mom: What's wrong, honey?

Me: Why is there a bunch of *brand* in the fridgeeee? These are expensive!

*I said as I look at the prices on my phone, fearing I missed some sort of discount for buying in bulk.*

Mom: Dad apparently wanted to try some ever since he saw it in a commercial and bought too many. He sent some extras here...

Me: *Takes a long inhale* AHHHHHHHHHHHHH!

….…..

We all have that grandfather. The one who insists he doesn’t play favorites but then turns around and gives one grandchild a thousand dollars for Christmas, claiming it’s because, “Well, I can’t take it with me when I’m dead, might as well spend it on something cute now.” It’s a universal experience. And apparently, not even death—or undeath—exempts you from it.

For the past month, Danny's friends had been roasting him relentlessly over one singular fact: Clockwork spoils him rotten.

Danny, of course, denies it. Danny, ever the tired, oblivious little disaster of a ghost prince, insists Clockwork treats him like any other unfortunate intern-slash-trainee. If anything, he argues, Clockwork enjoys his suffering. After all, no spoiled child would be forced to sit through two-hour lectures on the political structure of the Realm of Screeching Mirrors or solve time-based equations that make mortal physics cry. And yet, somehow, every time he finishes school and is already dead tired—pun intended—he gets yeeted straight into another lesson about interdimensional algebra that makes even Jazz’s nerdy heart weep.

Sam, Tucker, and Jazz just sit there and stare at him like he’s trying to convince them the sky isn’t blue. Even Dan, actual chaotic/ genocidal menace of the Ghost Zone, released on royal bail with a community service contract (a.k.a. babysitting duty), had the gall to grimace at the blatant favoritism. Ellie just nodded and made snide bets on how long it would take before Danny noticed Clockwork had been rigging his ghost-life like a doting stage mom.

It didn’t stop there either. Apparently, somewhere along the line, Pandora decided to become the wine aunt—but instead of wine and passive-aggressive casserole recipes, she sent weaponized care packages. Need a broadsword that sings show tunes when swung? Pandora’s got it. She once gave Danny a dagger made from the crystallized screams of vanquished tyrants. When asked why, she simply said, “To keep your mortals on their toes.”

Then there was Frostbite. Calm, collected, soothing Frostbite… who also happened to be the kind of uncle who would knit you a blanket and throw a car at anyone who made you cry. He’d once paused a global summit in the Far Frozen to deliver Danny a scarf because he “looked a bit chilly” during said meeting. The scarf was bulletproof. And sentient.

Everyone saw it. Everyone. The entire inner circle of Danny's life treated it like the worst-kept secret in all of ghostdom. Sam tried reasoning with him. Tucker built a PowerPoint. Jazz made pie charts, actual pie charts, trying to explain the psychological indicators of excessive grandparental attachment. Danny? Still blissfully in denial.

Which was funny, considering Clockwork literally paused time every night so Danny could get his eight hours. And occasionally twelve. Or fourteen. There were also the little notes left in Danny’s backpack: “Don’t forget your lunch, also destroy that wraith behind locker 307, it’s giving off bad vibes. Love, C.W.” Or, you know, when certain bullies AHEM GIW agents that are more on the violent and competent side AHEM mysteriously disappeared from time itself. Not dead, not missing, just never existed in the first place. Suspiciously convenient.

Still, Danny remained oblivious. Ranting about how Clockwork just gave him more work while his friends sat in the background, watching the temporal equivalent of a dad saying “I’m not mad, just disappointed” and rewriting history to give his grandson fewer childhood traumas.

Things only got worse when Phantom officially joined the Justice League Dark. The invitation had been pending for months. After all, there was only so long the League could ignore the literal child-shaped ghost who kept single-handedly neutralizing League-level threats in a small Midwest town like it was his weekend hobby. The Dark team, especially Constantine and Zatanna, had begrudgingly accepted him after witnessing him pull obscure banishment spells from memory, casually referencing ancient ghost kings as if he had lunch with them last week. (He probably did.)

Thanks to Phantom, the League Dark's solved-case rate skyrocketed. Not that Danny bragged about it. No, he just muttered quiet “thank-yous” to Clockwork for teaching him spells like “Ecto-Spatial Reversal via Reverse-Entropy” and “Don’t Touch That You Idiot, It Bites.”

Things were going smoothly—until a group of Green Lanterns arrived with bad news: a planet eater had been spotted in their quadrant. Immediate panic, of course. Superman went into overdrive, Batman did his usual dramatic scowl, and Phantom… winced.

Hard.

He doubled over slightly, one hand pressed to his core, face pale and wide-eyed. The room turned quiet as Danny muttered something garbled, a soft, vibrating cry that made Constantine drop his cigarette and Doctor Fate slowly turn his helmeted head.

What most of the League didn’t know—what even Danny barely acknowledged—was that as a newly ascended Ancient of Space (thanks, Ghost Zone promotions), he could feel his creations. And he had just started experimenting with creating baby planets for fun. Tiny, floating ball worlds full of pink sand, purple skies, and slow-beeping space whales. He’d named one of them “Steve.”

And now? Steve was gone.

That warbled noise he let out? Not pain. Not warning.

It was a cosmic tantrum.

And the moment he wailed, the pen sitting at the edge of the conference table froze in mid-air. Time literally stuttered. The League stood frozen. Until a massive, glowing portal sliced open behind Danny with the sound of a very irritated and blood thirsty grandfather clock chiming, who knew a grandfather clock can make such ominous chime.

Out came a giant ghost cloaked in deep violet robes, staff glowing ominously, red eyes glaring holes through the League. Every hero present snapped into defense mode—Superman rose into the air, Wonder Woman readied her lasso, Batman reached for seventeen gadgets at once.

And Phantom?

Phantom flung himself at the terrifying ghost like a toddler reunited with their favorite plushie after a week of laundry day. The tears started flowing as he began incoherently babbling about Steve and planet goo and how he worked really hard on making the gravity work this time, and now it’s gone, Grandpa, it’s gone!

Clockwork, for his part, gently patted Danny on the head and offered a soft “There, there. Let’s go home. I have cookies. And cocoa. With extra marshmallows.”

Danny nodded miserably, clutching his mentor like the universe had wronged him personally—which, in fairness, it kind of had. The two vanished into the portal, and just like that, time resumed. The pen hit the floor with a sharp clack.

The Justice League stared in stunned silence.

And then, just a beat too late, the Flash burst in with a stack of nachos, four Slurpees, and a hot dog sticking out of his hair.

Flash blinked at the scattered papers, frazzled League members, and the faint, lingering smell of cinnamon cookies. Batman said nothing. Constantine just lit another cigarette.

…..

 PS: If someone out there wants to continue or make a fic about this you are free to do so, don’t forget to tag me though.

[artytaeh]

. . . this is a silly thought, but indulge me!

( i might write more elaborated headcanons about it, though. let's see, let's see. 🌷 )

thinking about reader having kids with mattheo or theodore. and despite these two being so similar in some things, they'd be the opposite on this:

because there's a vital part of your baby growing up, where they start babbling, threatening to say their first word. the silent expectation to see which of you the baby will call for first— their mama, or their papa.

⋯ ⋯ ﹒ 🪻 ’

THEODORE NOTT is a mama's boy; even at his adult stage, having left hogwarts with you and putting a ring on your finger, it's inevitable that theo's mother always had, always will have such a special place in his heart.

theo looks at you, looks at the baby created from the strong love you feel for each other— and his heart aches, somewhat bittersweetly, as theodore imagines his mother there with his little family; making the scenario even more perfect on his eyes. theo constantly thinks about how much his mother would absolutely adore you, and be the best grandmother possible for your baby.

so, being a mama's boy— and seeing the tenderness you have for your child as a parallel of the unconditional love that theo's mother had for him...

... theodore nott isn't competitive for the first time on his life, because truly, theo wants your child to call out for you first.

not because he's uninterested or doesn't care for your child! no, it's the opposite— theo loves you both so, so much, that his heart feels like bursting from so much love, so much tenderness and happiness. it's just that you deserve it more!

both of you made the child, of course; a human being isn't made alone. yet, as much as theo supported you as much as he could— it was you whose body developed this little human that theo adores so much. you went through all those morning sickness, all of those cravings and body changes; it was you who spent hours in labor to bring that child to the world— it was you who fed them on their first weeks of life.

so, seriously, with all his heart: theo felt like it was only fair for this little human of yours to call for his beloved wife first.

and he even makes sure that such a thing happens!

on a sunny day, you'd find theodore sat on the garden; during these first months of this little human's life, it was a joint decision to spend them in theo's childhood house— where he grew up with his mother, on these beautiful grounds of italy.

sat with his back against a tree, theo uses his knees to support the baby's back, as the little human giggles and trashes both chubby arms and legs, amused by the tenderness of their father; theodore nott. he makes sure that the baby has their beautiful eyes looking at him— pronouncing the syllables with patience.

'ma-ma. mama. maaaaaa... ma.' he'd say, slowly for the baby, exaggerating the movement of his mouth, so that in a way, it would be easier for them to imitate.

it didn't matter how long it took for the baby to properly say those two simply syllables— theo would keep mouthing 'mama' over and over again, carrying the baby on his arms, to then point at you: with a cheeky smile (proud to be the father of this little human, whose also your child. you're their mother. and his wife.), theo gestures to the baby.

'mama. that's your mama; the woman i love the most. ever since i saw your maaaa-ma, i knew that she would be la mia futura sposa.'

⋯ ⋯ ﹒ 🪻 ’

MATTHEO RIDDLE, on the other hand, doesn't know how to lose; unless his loss brings some sort of benefit to him, obviously.

however this time... no, there wasn't much of a benefit, of a reward to let you win this time. it was a question of honor, of duty! to get this child of yours to call for mattheo first. (as silly as it is, mattheo needs a way to subconsciously assure himself, that he'll be a better father than his. that he'll offer support and unconditional love to this baby— not fear, resentment, and vicious bad habits to deal with the damage.)

and despite this tiny human being days, weeks or few months old— that doesn't really matter to mattheo, because he'd sooner than later teach your child about this corrupted world you live in. that this society, the human beings are nothing but weak meat, meant to fall into temptation, to indulge corruption and...!

long story short: mattheo tries to bribe the tiny human into loving him more.

and mattheo riddle is a creative man, you see; bribe is not just made with money, no, no. bribe comes in various ways:

demanding to be the one to mostly change the baby's diapers, so that mattheo could have more time alone with them, to manipulate that little brain to find it easier to babble the letter 'p' instead of 'm'— and one day, he might oh-so-dramatically say that he was the one to bear with the smell, who had to do the dirty work of changing diapers! because this being said, he deserves more acknowledgement, seriously!

encouraging this tiny human to talk. and when i say encouraging, i mean that mattheo indulges all those gibberish as if they were proper words, ones that mattheo assures to understand, and so mattheo and the tiny human engage a serious conversation. when the baby is quiet (which is rare), mattheo disturbs the peace and quiet, so that he can trick the tiny human into saying that simple, easy word. 'paaaaaa.... paaaa... papa. paaaa! pa!' he sing-songs.

by playing so much with the baby, be it with the amount of toys they have on their nursery, or by tickling, making sounds, already teaching the tiny human how to throw punches (just like his father! 🎀)— mattheo believes that he's associating himself to the feeling of having fun. so if not him, who else would they call for?! (you. because you're the most amazing mother, and mattheo knows that; he tells you that every night, so proud of this beloved family of his.)

another silly thing he does is pronouncing the word 'papa' really slowly, mouthing with such a dramatic and exaggerated movements, that it always makes you laugh when you testify it. however, when mattheo points at you, he says the word 'mama' in a faster way, purposefully making it sound very confusing for the little human on his arms.

and when you caught mattheo doing all of these things, so that he gets to be called by this baby of yours first— well, mattheo is already expecting a lighthearted slap on the nape of his neck, but oh well, the punishment and the effort are worth the prize.

⋯ ⋯ ﹒ 🪻’

🪻 ; . . . fandom : harry potter.

— i'm on a huge slytherin boys brainrot. no, seriously, i have so many drafts about headcanons and drabbles about them; the comments and reposts of theo's drabble melted me into a puddle, i swear. :( tysm!

the headers + gifs + icons aren't mine. credits to the respective creators ! 🌷