#i’m joking about it but like

[lilgynt]

like i’ve known since forever that my mom loves my brother more but jesus CHRIST. even i can admit this is excessive

[goldensunset]

did you know? if you do your laundry you can get your clothes back

[retrogradedreaming]

“Ao3 needs an algorithm” no it doesn’t, part of the ao3 experience is scrolling through pages of cursed content looking for the one fic you want to read until you get distracted by a summary so cursed that it completely derails your entire search

[locusfandomtime]

The maths fandom is wild. “Real” and “imaginary” numbers? I think you mean canon and non-canon. You guys seriously go “this is my number oc his name is i and he is the square root of -1” when in numbers canon lore it’s actually impossible to square root a negative but sure whatever. “Complex numbers”? I think you mean a character x oc ship. “f(x) = 3x - 5”? That is self-insert fanfiction.

[delusionsofgrandeur13]

you’re borrowing your boyfriend!jason todd’s…

hoodie

it’s big, it’s warm, and it smells like your big warm boyfriend. of course you stole it. luckily jason runs hot..or that’s what he tells you at least. the man gets cold too, but he’d never tell you that. not when you look so cozy in his sweatshirt.

sweats

your favorite thing of his to match with his hoodie. his sweatpants are super warm, super soft, and super baggy. meant for ultimate comfort. jason loves it when you go full out sweatsuit in his clothes. like, loves it. you’re like his own personal teddy bear to hold on to while he falls asleep. who needs sweats when he has you to keep him warm..in his.

t shirt

sometimes, when the weather’s warmer, you’ll steal one of jason’s shirts to thrown on over a pair of panties. you’re oblivious to the fact that this combination makes jason go absolutely buck wild. somehow you’ve never made the connection. but more than once he’s found you sprawled across the couch, watching tv, and ended up going down on you. his head nestled between your thighs as you grip his raven locks. his hands are fisted into the loose fabric of his shirt that you’re wearing. he’s not satisfied until your legs are shaking, your moans intermingling with the wet, borderline pornographic, sounds that he’s creating with his mouth on your clit. he never lets you get him back either, even though you know he was grinding his crotch against the couch, chasing that sweet friction and release along with you. but he always just sits you atop his lap after, kissing your cheek as he brushes your hair out of your face. grips your thigh as he makes a comment about the show playing, your panties long forgotten on the floor.

underwear

you never get very far wearing a pair of your boyfriend’s boxers. for one, they’re pretty loose on you, so you have to roll the waistband a couple times, which just gives jason a prime view of your ass. they also just make it so easy for him to get his hand down the front, his strong fingers expertly finding your clit like he’s memorized a map of your body. which, in some ways, he has. it’s not long before you’ve come, once, twice, almost a third time, and he’s pulling his own boxers off to free his stiff cock. it points out, the tip leaking, and you’re opening your legs wider without even realizing it. he grabs your waist, sliding you closer to the edge of the bed, making sure you’re ready before he slides in, burying himself in you. he bottoms out, and you’re throwing your head back, a third orgasm threatening to crest as he starts up a rhythm. the muscles of his stomach ripple as he thrusts in and out. one of his hands is on your waist, the other slowly snaking its way back down to your clit. your toes curl at the feel of his calloused thumb rubbing circles on that sensitive bundle of nerves. he’s groaning, low in his throat, at the way you look on his cock. it never gets old for him, ever. the way your cheeks flush, how adorable your blown out pupils are when you look up at him. your wet lashes, your messy hair. your entrance clenches around his cock as you come a third time, your hands gripping the bed sheets. jason comes along with you, groaning loudly as he paints your insides with white ropes of cum. he pulls out, wetting a washcloth in the bathroom. the wet, warm fabric feels like heaven against your sensitive folds, your boyfriend wiping away the mixture of fluids between your legs. you feel pleasantly boneless, sinking into the pillows at the head of the bed. your boyfriend cleans himself up after, settling into bed next to you. jason wraps his strong arms around you, and it’s better than any clothes you might steal. but what you don’t know, is that he’d let you steal his clothes anytime.

[goomens]

this kills me. crowley had to stop and look away from aziraphale. his voice was nearly failing him, he kept taking deep shaking breaths. he completely laid himself bare. and then.

[coulsons-band]

pedro pascal doesn’t owe you shit.

it is absolutely fine to be disappointed by his absence at cannes. i am too. but he does not have to be there.

for whatever reason he’s pulling away from the attention. the esquire article talked about how guarded he is and his socials have really slowed down. maybe he’s unprepared or overwhelmed by all the tlou hype. i mean his follower count went up by the tens of thousands the day after the premiere. that’s insane.

but some of you have lost the plot. the ones wearing d*ddy’s little girl shirts in fucking public and yelling d*ddy at him at events and trying to convince everyone whether he’s queer or not and complaining there isn’t an explicit scene of him fucking in the strange way of life. it’s not a gay porn made for your fetish. ‘oh but narcos!!’ that’s called characterization. read literally any article from almodovar and understand why sex isn’t the point.

interacting with paparazzi content and making cute little edits - jfc. that’s creating demand and supply and paparazzi know no fucking boundaries. man’s got anxiety and no doubt the paps and fans watching his every move are probably making that worse.

let him make movies and rotate through his four shirts in peace. pedro pascal doesn’t owe anyone shit.

[chilly-lily]

whoever popularized the “amity wants hunter dead” fanon is literally my worst enemy. like look at this. they’re buddies. imagine being wrong about Everything

and the fact that amity is second to the airship before they realize that hunter wasn’t actually taken.. she does not hate that boy!! they are friends!!!

[papertowness]

my dealer : yo i just got this new strain called ‘ princeton plainsboro 2006 ‘ 😳 you’ll be zonked off your gourd 💯

me : yeah whatever i don’t feel shit

* ten minutes later *

me : i gotta get this guy his sandwich

my buddy house , pacing back and forth : maybe i don’t want to push this thing until it breaks

[nightlocked-in]

“peeta is bisexual” you guys are losing the vision. peeta isn’t even straight. katniss INVENTED sexuality for him. whatever katniss identifies as, he’s like “yeah, i’ll take that one” no questions asked

[ewwww-what]

I like to pretend that during freshman year while these guys are living at the strongtower luxury apartments they spend so much time together that they start just wearing each other’s clothes for convenience. their casual/inside outfits become a clash of tie dye, band tees, and dress pants. any of them could go through someone else’s clothes and find 5+ items of their own.

Uncolored version under the cut :D

[mo-mode]

Okay but the camper in the wheelchair either has a super tricked out celestial-bronze plated magical flying wheelchair with wings gifted by Hermes himself, or Chiron just gave zero shits about how inaccessible the outside world is because there is no way she’d survive a cross-country road trip while being chased by monsters in a normal wheelchair. If they offered me up for a quest like that, I would have wheelied my ass tf out of there. She chose a long-range weapon for a REASON

If the wheelchair IS tricked out, however, then I require a scene where her magical chariot-wheelchair hybrid flies her up above the big battle as she takes out monsters with flaming arrows, or the show is ableist. I don’t make the rules—

[insignificant457]

There is a nebulous jordie lives au which lives entirely in my head in which jordie recovers from the plague while Kaz is still sick. He gets up to find them food and water only to return and discover Kaz is nowhere to be found. Still recovering from the fever, he searches the barrel for days before he finally sees Kaz wandering down the staves in a sort of fugue state, soaked to the bone with a haunted look in his eyes.

Kaz won’t tell him what happened, but jordie knows it’s bad because his baby brother flinches every time he touches him, and soon enough he’s started wearing gloves, even in the height of summer.

Soon, they discover kazs gift for cards, and it keeps them fed and clothed, if not much else. Kaz is angry at jordie for losing the money, refuses to let him make any decisions. Jordie is beholden to his angry traumatized little brother because he can’t deny that he failed them the first time around.

Kaz is offered a place in his pick of the gangs, but the only one willing to take both him and his tag along older brother is the dregs. Jordie dies a little bit inside when they join up, when they take the tattoo side by side, but he’s not sure they’ll survive another winter on the streets.

And the plot of SoC generally goes on from there. Jordie tags along on the ice court, he and Jesper test kazs patience at every turn, he’s constantly offering unsolicited annoying older brother advice about Inej.

This lends itself to a really interesting exploration of Kaz and jordies relationship, what holds brothers together in the face of incredible trauma, the skewed power dynamic of Kaz becoming the breadwinner for them both at the age of nine, etc etc. But mostly, this au is a vessel for the sailing of the ultimate crack ship, which is of course, jordie/alys Van Eck.

[prefer-to-be-vilified]

Enid, discussing whether or not her parents know she’s gay: I mean it’s not like it matters, I’m going to die alone anyway.

Wednesday, without hesitation: You’re right. You’re incredibly annoying.

Enid:

Enid: That was uncalled for.

Wednesday: I apologise. Would it help if I married you?

Enid: You know what? Yes. Yes it would.

Wednesday: Well if I must.

[Later that evening]

Wednesday: And you said I’d have to tell Enid how I felt to convince her to marry me.

Thing: YOU’RE-A-MENACE-TO-SOCIETY.

Wednesday: Why thank you Thing.

Thing: TELL-ENID-YOU-LOVE-HER.

Wednesday: I’d sooner kill us both. Now focus, we have a wedding to plan.

[valyrfia]

I don’t know how many more “keep ao3 and shipping in fandom spaces” I’ve got left in me.

[e-vasong]

listen everyone’s all karnadeli this colindeli that and i get it they’re both so juicy. but let’s set shipping aside for a second because i also need people to be a thousand times more invested in colin and karna being slow burn best friends who come to a gradual understanding of each other and eventually bond over their surprisingly similar traumas and hangups. I want them to gossip over meals and share commiserating glances when the nobility do some stupid rich people shit. I want colin and karna to team up during arguments, and deli to be exhausted because he has to deal with the fact that his skalds have unionized. I want them to quietly have each others backs, even though they’d never fucking admit it if you asked. Are you all seeing my vision.