#it's not me it's queue

[bluerose5]

I love his expressions in these shots so much. Scott really went

[nonebinary-leftbeef]

DEVASTATING the lyric you've been mishearing is better than the real one

[calvinandhobbescomic]

[unforth]

Gentle reminder that very little fandom labor is automated, because I think people forget that a lot.

That blog with a tagging system you love? A person curates those tags by hand.

That rec blog with a great organization scheme and pretty graphics? Someone designed and implemented that organization scheme and made those graphics.

That network that posts a cool variety of stuff? People track down all that variety and queue it by hand, and other people made all the individual pieces.

That post with umpteen links to helpful resources, and information about them? Someone gathered those links, researched the sources, wrote up the information about them.

That graphic about fandom statistics? Someone compiled those statistics, analyzed them, organized them, figured out a useful way to convey the information to others, and made the post.

That event that you think looks neat? Someone wrote the rules, created the blogs and Discords, designed the graphics, did their best to promo the event so it'd succeed.

None of this was done automatically. None of it just appears whole out of the internet ether.

I think everyone realizes that fic writing and fanart creation are work, and at least some folks have got it through their heads that gif creation and graphics and moodboards take effort, and meta is usually respected for the effort that goes into it, at least as far as I've seen, but I feel like a lot of people don't really get how much labor goes into curation, too.

If people are creating resources, curating content, organizing the creations of others, gathering information, and doing other fandom activities that aren't necessarily the direct action of creation, they're doing a lot of fandom labor, and it's often largely unrecognized.

Celebrate fan work!

To folks doing this kind of labor: I see you, and I thank you. You are the backbones of our fandoms and I love you.

[hamletthedane]

Nobody was doing it like Mary Magdalene. Tits out. Standing on a mountain. Holding a skull. She’s like the lesbian catholic hamlet. Aesthetically an absolute win for the gays.

[mulderrrrrrr]

“tell me i’m crazy.”

“mulder, you’re crazy.”

[fenja-art]

I found peace in your gentle embrace.

(Prints Available!)

[daydreamerwonderkid]

I know WFA is too OOC for some people, but I need that shit right now.

I do love seeing the Batfam beating the shit out of each other. I like how messy their relationships are and I have always loved flawed characters.

But idk, man, Batman #138 just really crossed a line for me and I need a reminder that there are other depictions of Bruce that aren't so fucking heinous.

I'll take this shit:

Over this shit:

Any. Fucking. Day.

[imjusthella-gay]

i wanna have a cute lil sub in the passenger seat next to me during a road trip. a vibrator stuffed inside of her wet little hole, kept in by a tight pair of undies. no matter how much you squeeze your thighs closed, cross your legs, shift positions, you can't escape the feeling of those vibrations relentlessly buzzing inside of you. every time we pass a speed bump, it thrusts up into you a little bit and makes you whine. by the time we get to our destination, you've already cum a handful of times, got the car seat all wet and now have to walk to our hotel room with your slick running down your shaky thighs. so cute and sloppy and fucked out before we even start. all of that only to warm you up to take my strap the second we get in bed. should be so easy to just slide it in and fuck that needy hole.of yours

[bluerose5]

Nostalgia

"Tell me something about yourself."

Anders’s hands stopped in their tracks. Golden brown eyes glanced up at Garrett, curious about what brought on such a request.

He returned to healing Garrett's wound, brow furrowed as he concentrated on knitting the flesh together. Slowly but surely, the large gash on his arm started to seal closed.

"Like what?" Anders asked. "Have we not been getting to know each other all this time?"

"Well, we have," Garrett said, then added, "in a way. Even then, I feel like so much of you is still a mystery. The Grey Warden thing, I get. The apostate thing, I get. Even the whole merging with Justice thing, I get."

"But...?" Anders trailed off.

"But you don't tell me much about you." Garrett watched him closely, searching for any change in his expression. "I've seen you joke around with the others. Then, as soon as I walk into the room, you get all serious and quiet. You've told me plenty about the mages' plight, which is fine, but I just want to know more, you know?"

"Is that your way of telling me that I need to lighten up?" Anders questioned, head cocked to the side as he peered over at him.

Even after the wound was healed, Anders’s touch lingered on his arm.

Neither one of them tried to move away.

"If that's how you choose to take it." Garrett shrugged nonchalantly. "I don't mind being that guy that you can vent to about your frustrations. I'm glad that you trust me enough to share your concerns; but if I'm right about you —and something is telling me that I am— then there's more to you than you let on."

"Okay, and if there is?"

Garrett leaned in with a roguish grin, dark curls falling into warm, brown eyes.

Anders swallowed thickly.

His heart skipped a beat.

"Then I plan on finding out what."

"Heh," Anders laughed in an attempt to cover up how flustered he was. He dropped Garrett's arm as if his skin was on fire, taking a second to brush his hair back behind his ears. "What a tease you are, Garrett Hawke." After a slight pause, he glanced over at him. "What would you know of me?"

Garrett's grin softened into a smile.

"Oh, that's easy," he hummed. "Favorite color?"

"Red," Anders answered without skipping a beat.

Walking around the clinic, he started to straighten up, cleaning every surface as best as he could while taking inventory of his supplies.

"Really?"

"Yeah." For some reason, Anders felt the need to explain further. "It's a very versatile color. Bold and passionate, dangerous yet warm..."

"I'll have to keep that in mind."

Right.

"Anything else, or was this all just an excuse to find out what my favorite color is?"

Garrett snorted.

"I'm just getting started." He leaned his weight back onto his hands, kicking his legs out from the crate he was sitting on. "Tell me, when you're not out striving for mages' freedom, what do you do in your free time?" Garrett thought it over, then took a guess, not even giving Anders a chance to respond first. "Do you like to write?"

Anders wrinkled his nose.

"Not particularly."

"Seriously?" Garrett blinked owlishly at him. "Huh. Interesting."

"What?"

"Nothing, nothing. It's just that you're so good at it."

Wait, did that mean...

"Garrett Hawke," Anders said, "did you actually read my manifesto?"

"Perhaps." Garrett beamed at him, his eyes crinkled at the corners. "Does this mean you'll stop leaving copies all over my estate?"

"Maybe." With his back to Garrett, Anders clutched a pile of clean linens to his chest in an attempt to muffle the pounding of his heart. Anders wouldn't be surprised if Garrett could hear it from across the room. "Maybe I could leave other notes for you to find."

"Now, that's a challenge that I would gladly accept."

"Guess my Circle education is finally paying off," Anders joked. "As for hobbies, though." Anders sighed, chewing on the inside of his cheek. "Oh, I don't know. Ever since I last escaped, I can't honestly remember when I've done anything for myself. Back then, I was with the Wardens. After I got away from them, all of my time here has been split between the clinic and the Mage Underground."

"When you're not with me, at least."

"True." He shrugged. "So, yeah. When I'm not playing cards with you lot at The Hanged Man, I don't do much. Pathetic, right?"

"No," Garrett huffed, glaring at him for making that jab at himself. "It means you're dedicated to what you do."

"That's one way of looking at it."

Humming in contemplation, Garrett sat there, deep in thought.

Eventually, he spoke up.

"Well, what would you like to do?"

"Excuse me?"

Garrett rolled his eyes, shaking his head at Anders with a fond smile.

"What would you like to do?" he repeated. "You and Justice?"

"Justice?"

"Is there an echo in here?" Garrett teased. "Yes, you and Justice. Say what you want. You may not 'hear' him, but he must have some kind of influence if you're both two halves of a whole."

"Such a huge simplification of our... arrangement."

"Yet you don't deny it. Come on," Garrett insisted. "The clinic is empty at the moment. I know for certain that today has been a quiet one for the Underground, so let's go have some fun. Alone. Together."

"What do you have in mind?" Anders asked, wary.

"Whatever you want."

Anders considered his options.

Setting the linens aside, the words came to him, unbidden.

"I'd like to go fishing."

At Garrett's surprised look, Anders grimaced.

"My father, he was always a stern man," he explained. A wistful sense of nostalgia settled deep into his bones. "But he was a proud father before my magic manifested."

Anders stared down at his hands, flexing them through the aches from years of healing and spellcasting.

"He used to take me to a lake not far outside of our village. We would take to the docks for hours. I would run around with fistfuls of worms and bugs for bait." Anders scoffed. "Every time I caught something, even if it was just trash, I would get so excited. I could have caught the smallest minnow, and he would brag about how strong I was."

And all it took to destroy that bond was fear.

Anders wouldn't linger on that, though.

"I mean, we don't have to fish, but perhaps we can take a walk down to the docks. Clear our heads a little?" Already, he could see the rhythmic motion of the waves, smell the tang of salt in the air. "Well, if you can sit still for that long."

Garrett chuckled.

Jumping down from his perch, he approached Anders’s position, hesitating before he took his hand into his own.

"For you, I'll try my best."

[pinkiepig]

I just WANNA BE PART OF YOUR SYMPHONYYYY🐬🐬🎼🫧🫧🎼

[happyheidi]

By Coyhand

[6okuto]

taps my mic. osamu who's just opened onigiri miya, who's so, so proud of himself but scared shitless all the same when teammates and family call to check in on him, whose smile wobbles not from anxiety but excitement when a customer shyly walks in.

and you, who he quickly learns the name of because you visit on the first day, and keep coming the days after—the first regular he hopes, and you promise, of plenty more.

he asks you for your opinions on the menu so far, the stools he's still not sure about, the volume of the television playing above, if the takeout box, filled with experimental flavours, he gave you for free a couple days ago had any winners. you answer happily, and even if it's a shrug or hand gesture meaning "so-so," osamu appreciates it all, deadset on turning your so-so's to something unquestionably good.

you're his secret to keep for a while, a good luck charm (for the whole staff, he specifies when you tease him about it) when you walk in. so when atsumu and his team visit for the first time since the grand opening, and one of the employees happily exclaims your name as the doorbell chimes, he shoots his twin a look. "wow, big shot, y'got regulars already?"

but atsumu's teasing lasts only a moment before his expression morphs into one of confusion, and then another—one a twin sends his twin when he realizes he's been kept in the dark about something, someone, that brings a sickeningly happy smile to the other's face. osamu isn't even looking at him when he answers—"yeah, one."

[dejablonde]

Edit: seeing a few people saying they can't vote for the nominee option because they know a winner (can we be friends btw) and I'm here to say that counts! They had to be nominated to win, y'all.

[godshideouscreation]

[tomatoart]

attaches husband to my carabiner