#do these two even have a ship tag/name

[synthwayve]

Happy Shitpost Saturday Sunday, I didn’t refine/color anything because I am sleepy. Here are the old silly guys

[jasontoddsgaythoughts]

If DC wants to keep pushing out different types of Gotham War comics for every year, they may as well make a Gotham Batman Ships war next year. They get to make light fun of their fans. Batman is spread all over somewhat romantically like hummus. They get to bring in different heroes and Gotham villains to fight reluctantly (they don’t want the Batman they just want the honor). The batkids get to sit cute on the sidelines and laugh at their dad’s misery. It’s fun

[stealth-black-leg]

Crocomom Mamma Mia!AU masterpost

Check reblogs for links to all the fics in this AU 👇 (will keep growing!)

[twildflower]

[spittyfishy]

(Delayed) Rarepair Week Day 7: Fashion/Decoration

With one of the options being Fashion I knew I had to have Junko involved, so I decided to pair her up with resident fashion disaster Tenko lol

And that’s the end of rare pair week! As always huge thanks to @dr-rarepair-week-blog for running the event it’s always so much fun!

[ladynicte]

Something that always breaks my heart is how during the House of Hades Nico is described as smiling and grinning actually pretty often, but later on in his pov he mentions that it's hard for him to do that, or really emote as a general.

Which means my poor most specialest little boy in the whole world Nico di Angelo was constantly going out of his way to mask and smile at the rest of The Seven even though he didn't know them basically at all.

And he had also just gone through literal hell while everybody except his sister was super rude to him the entire time.

And the whole time they are all just thinking about how he looks creepy when frowning but that they prefer that because his smile is even creepier.

They are all so mean to him whyyyyy

[supercalime]

I’ve been lurking in the 911 tags for only a week and I’m already exhausted of most b*ddie shippers holy shit

[spifan]

i might be crazy but this looks like a fun setup lol what if they made a s&f pc skin where everything was s&f

[lost-in-fandoms]

Logan and Max have a talk. Sort of. (I have never written Logan before, so I don't know if this even makes sense. Almost nothing happens, but there could be a second part in the future, who knows (not me)).

Logan wishes he was better at telling Alex no. He doesn't want to be at this party, for a race he barely even took part of, his car giving up on lap 15. He doesn't want to be standing here, near the wall, as he watches the other drivers drink and dance, ignoring him completely. He doesn't want the drink Alex placed in his hand before disappearing, without even telling him what was in it. He wants to go to bed. He wants to call his mom.

One hour, that's how much time he has promised himself. He'll stay one hour, long enough to say he was there, not long enough to make him want to get completely smashed and sob into some girl's chest (that had been one time, but it had been a low point he does never want to repeat), and then he'll go back to the hotel. He doesn't remember the time difference well enough to know if he'll be able to talk to his mom before going to sleep, barely remembers in which country they're in.

He's contemplating his glass again, trying to decipher what kind of alcoholic concoction is in there and to ignore the thumping bass, when a pair of sneakers and blue jeans appear in his line of vision.

He looks up and finds himself face to face with three-soon-to-be-four times world Champion Max Verstappen. He doesn't think he's ever been in a one to one conversation with Max before, so he can't think about a single reason why he should be standing in front of him, looking straight at him. Unless he's here to kick him out? Would Max kick him out of the party for being too pathetic?

Now he's being self-pitying, he needs to stop. No drinking and sobbing incidents tonight.

"You okay, mate?" Max asks, voice barely loud enough over the music, eyes intense. The glass in Logan's hand feels slippery, he's afraid he'll drop it.

"Yeah, fine!" he replies, cringing at his own basic response, even if he doesn't know what else he could have said. It's not like Max is asking because he really cares, and it's not like he could give him the truthful answer either.

Instead of moving on and going back to the party like Logan is expecting after the somewhat failed social interaction, Max keeps looking at him, tilting his head slightly, eyes narrowed, before he steps closer and plucks the glass from Logan's hand, placing it on a nearby table.

"Follow me," he orders. He doesn't wait before turning around and walking away. For some reason, Logan doesn't even question it, just unsticks himself from his wall and follows him to the bar, where Max orders a beer and another g&t, and then up a flight of stairs, onto a balcony.

"Are we allowed to be here?" Logan asks, looking at the very obvious DO NOT OPEN sign hanging on the balcony door Max is already pushing open.

Max just shrugs, going outside and sitting down on a lawn chair, placing the drinks on the low table in front of him. Of course, Logan reminds himself, he's Max Verstappen, who's going to tell him no? He probably could buy this whole place out himself if he wanted to.

Logan sits down next to him.

"Here," Max says, passing him the beer. Again, Logan doesn't question it before taking a sip. Much better than Alex's weird drink.

For a long moment, they just sit in silence. They can still hear the music from downstairs, but it's different out here, with the sounds of the city and the fresh air. Logan almost forgets about being confused and upset, about wanting to go home. Home home. Then Max speaks again.

"We can talk about why you are sad, or we can sit here until I finish my drink. Both are okay."

Logan doesn't understand. Why is Max, of all people, wanting to talk to him about his shitty season? And why would he want to just sit there with him? Does he look that pathetic?

He tries to feel upset, tries to look for the spark of indignation, but he comes up empty. He can just stare at Max's profile as the other takes a sip of his drink, eyes fixed on the skyline, throat working.

Max doesn't ask again. He must accept that Logan's answer is silence, doesn't even seem put off by it, but Logan's brain can't stop buzzing, questions bouncing around so fast he can barely keep up with them.

They stay quiet. Max finishes his drink. Logan keeps watching him as he stretches slightly, before he stands up and turns to face him.

"If you want to come talk to me, I know how it feels, to be hungry" he says slowly, measured, like he's been thinking about this for the whole time. "But if you want advice right now..."

It takes a second for Logan to realize Max is waiting for a sign, and he rushes to nod. Max's lip curls up slightly, his eyes crinkling, before he turns serious again.

"At some point, you will of course have to decide if you want to lay down and wait for the team to take pity, or if you want to bite and make them work with you."

Logan blinks. Max blinks back.

When it's clear that Logan isn't going to say anything, Max nods, turns around, seems to rethink and turns back, his eyes impossibly bright.

"I can show you how to take what you want, whatever you want." Suddenly, it feels like they're not just talking about racing anymore. Logan's neck feels hot. Max licks his lips, something dangerous in his expression that is usually reserved for the track, for when things aren't as he'd like. Logan has seen it before, but never turned towards him. He's stuck on his chair, feeling like prey despite Max telling him he could, and should, take.

He waits for the blow, he knows it's coming, but is still completely unprepared for the way Max smiles when he speaks.

"I will even call you a good boy, if you do it right."

The sound Logan lets out is undignified enough it will have to go in the lowest points list right next to the drinking&crying episode, but Max laughs, not unkindly, squeezing Logan's shoulder.

"You have my number, and you know where I'll be next week. Drink your beer."

Logan has the bottle pressed against his lips even before Max has made it across the balcony, going back to the party.

[thatgremlinkid]

Shipping your favs together is so funny because what do you mean I’ve been thinking about Diggers and Click going on scenic road trips in Diggers van and they occasionally stop so Click can take pictures of the wildlife and greenery just because I lobe them like what is wrong with me

[emberlich]

"They're in love, your honor."

[astrolotte]

listen guys no listen listen. im just SAYING Pearl has two hands okay she has two hands are you listening im just saying Pearl has two hands

[psychotic-nonsense]

My favorite part about being obsessed with something is that you start looking for it everywhere. Especially in media that shares actors with the thing you’re obsessed with.

So thanks to the idea from one feralheartedalien here on tumblr and my current watching of A Quiet Place: Day One, I’m suddenly being roped into the Steddie Alternate Universe with Eric and Keys.

------ Minor "A Quiet Place: Day One" Spoilers after this point ------

Haven’t watched Free Guy in a while, but the dynamic is kinda sticking with me. Struggling, emotionally repressed, desperate, foreign exchange law student Eric, coming to the States for school due to parental pressure (can’t have a Steddie-like ship without some shitty parents). Redeemed bully, people pleaser, hopeless romantic, lonely Keys, trying to make something out of his love for programming and design while under his repressive boss (can’t have a Steddie-like ship without some doomed ambition).

Maybe next floor neighbors, Eric living right above Keys. He comes back to his basically empty apartment after school every day exhausted, collapsing on the carpet in his living room at 2am, lulled to sleep by the soft, muffled music in the place beneath him. Meanwhile, Keys only plays his "falling asleep" music when he's home, in hopes to calm the person above him, who has a habit of frequent pacing, self monologues, and unfortunately, breakdowns.

Maybe Eric just has a shit day at school one day; stressful projects, lack of progress in his studying, sleep deprived, and it’s absolutely fucking pouring on his way back home. Maybe Keys has accidentally memorized his neighbor’s schedule, accidentally began to care, and noticed how late it is. Maybe their floors are different but the rooms are the same, so when Eric pushes the wrong floor on the elevator, he ends up at Keys’s room. Breaks down when his key doesn’t work, falls to his knees in the hallway muffling sobs. Barely reacts when Keys opens his door because he’s so tired and cold and numb. Weakly tries to fight Keys’s attempts at help but nearly faints in this stranger’s arms. Eric finally lets himself be helped, loses himself in Keys’s thick blankets and soft music and well meaning rambling and killer hot chocolate-

Maybe that’s when Eric realizes how much this man has saved his life, and vows to return the favor.

[crimsonscloud]

[msphagime]

At this point, do I ship them because I like their dynamic... or do I ship them because I like cloak shenanigans?

Bonus random stuff:

[starpirateee]

To the dear guest who requested this, thanks so much! I was personally expecting a sickfic at some point, so it's my honour!

Paul was never late. Ever. He'd basically made it part of his personality to show up to work and little events within a reasonable margin to be considered "on time".

But, somehow the luck just had to run out eventually. Like the day his car broke down and he had to catch the bus to work. that day, he was a good forty minutes late (most of which was spent on the phone to Tony Green, trying to find a time to drop his car off, and subsequently missing the bus that may have gotten him to work on time), and that was so late that he managed to walk into Ted in the hallway.

Ted was normally one to amble into work late, but this time felt a little different. The two of them shared the lift up to the right floor, and Paul couldn't help but notice the way Ted seemed to be having a little trouble staying entirely upright. He spent the few seconds that the journey took leaning against the wall, and avoiding looking at Paul and the lights above their heads.

As Paul had pretty quickly discovered, there was nothing particularly interesting about Ted's shoes.

"Uh, Ted... Are you okay?" he asked eventually, just as they reached their floor.

the lift stopped and the doors opened. Ted made quick work of exiting, mainly so he could avoid being confronted by anyone, but Paul's words drew him back. He turned around slowly, ignoring the way his head screamed it's protests, and nodded. "Yeah, 'm fine. Just hungover." He could get away with that, it was a Monday, right? People drank on a weekend...

"Ted, it's Wednesday..." Paul pointed out, in a manner that he thought was rather helpful.

Shit.

Of course it was.

Granted, Ted didn't know what day it was at the best of times, but he had been working the rest of the week, so he should've known that it wasn't a Monday. "Yeah, and? I'm... Allowed to drink on a Tuesday."

"... Okay. I mean, yeah, sure you are, but-"

the two of them walked onto the office floor, and Paul insisted on seeing Ted all the way to his door, just to really make sure.

"- y'know, not a lot of people do."

"Get off my case, Paul... I'm fine." He opened the door to his office, fumbling first to get his keys, and then again when he tried to get them in the keyhole. Paul watched the whole time, his head tilted like he was about to make some claim that Ted was lying. Ted raised an eyebrow at him. "don't you have somewhere better to be?"

That seemed to snap him out of it. He nodded and backed away to join the rest of the technical department. On the way, he shot a couple glances back at the now closed office door, knowing full well that Ted wasn't as fine as he made himself out to be.

those suspicions were only confirmed when he heard Bill sigh heavily in the next cubicle, shift in his seat, and mutter, "Jesus Christ, can't he keep that to himself?"

Paul leaned around the divider, brow furrowed. "What's the problem, Bill?"

"Can't you hear it? I mean, we all know what Spankoffski gets up to in that office of his, but he's not exactly making it subtle today..."

Initially, Paul winced in agreement. They did all know what Ted got up to when he was alone. The last time they confronted him about it, Ted only grinned and explained that the office network didn't have a blacklist put in place, so technically speaking, they had free reign to do whatever they wanted. But, he was never normally a problem about it, so reluctant as they were, they had left the matter alone and just tried not to think about it.

Paul realised there was probably a good reason why Bill could hear Ted today, and thankfully, it had nothing to do with... That. For once.

"I don't think that's what you're hearing," he hummed, shooting a quick, sympathetic glance towards the door.

"What're you saying? Bill asked. "He's clearly-"

"I know what it sounds like, but he said he was hungover when we got here, but I dunno whether I believe him..."

"It's Wednesday."

"I know. That's what I said. I don't think he's doing so hot. Uh, that is, I think he's sick."

And Paul wasn't talking about him as a person. Bill's brow creased, and he actively tried to focus. This time, both men heard what they thought was a shaky sigh, and a groan that sounded much more like a protest than a pleasure. They glanced at each other and Paul shrugged, his point having been proven.

"Yeah, no, I'm not buying it. He's not fine, and I don't care what he tries to tell me." With that, he stood up and started towards the door. Bill didn't try to stop him, but kept his eyes trained on the office as Paul approached.

He knocked first, half expecting Ted to have locked himself in.

"... 's open." Came the voice from inside, slightly more strained than it had been a few hours ago.

Oh.

Taking a quick, prepatory breath, Paul opened the door, dropping his other hand to his side. Ted was once again hunched over himself, discarding a tissue in the bin by his desk. He looked up, caught the concern so clearly written across Paul's face, and sighed. "Didn't I already tell you to get off my case, Matthews?" He asked, somewhat drily.

The only response Ted got was a nod.

"Then... What's the big idea, huh?"

"Bill thought- uh..." He glanced back, stopping himself mid sentence and deciding it wasn't worth it to follow that up. Ted probably already knew what Bill had assumed, anyway. He certainly didn't seem disappointed by being the name behind such a reputation. "You're... Not hungover, are you?"

"Good job, detective." Ted's chest heaved, and his next breath sent him into a bout of coughing. Paul noticed how raspy it was, and how rough Ted sounded when he came out of it. "It's nothing. Some... Flu or something I picked up from my brother, or one of his dorky classmates... I dunno. But I'm fine."

"Sure."

Quite surprised, Ted's eyebrows raised. "Was that sarcasm there? From you?"

Paul just shrugged. He could add sarcasm when he needed to. He totally knew the context for something like that... Thankfully, the subject was dropped before he could think about whether he'd done that intentionally or not.

"Why are you so bothered anyway?"

The fast attempt at giving an answer was broken off by another coughing fit, and in that time, Paul tried to refine his answer before realising he didn't really have a good one in the first place. He sighed. "I'm worried about you, man. You've gotten paler every time I look at you."

Ted faltered, his head lifting just enough to fully catch Paul's gaze and decipher that he did indeed look worried. He seemed sincere enough, and the thought of it- the thought of someone he didn't actually know that well, all things considered, seeming genuinely worried at his expense- made his eyes widen.

Paul picked up on the extended silence and shifted, now humouring the thought that he may have done something wrong. "What?"

"You're serious?"

"Huh? Of course I am. You need to get yourself home, you look like you're going to pass out. In fact... No, I can drive. If you want."

"You took the bus this morning," Ted reminded.

"I know. I meant your car. That way, you don't have to leave it here to forget about by tomorrow..." Paul hadn't thought this through. In his eyes, that just meant Ted wouldn't have to wake up the next morning and completely forget where his car was. Besides, it's not like he lived close...

"You're asking me for my keys? When I can just as easily drive myself home?"

"Will you make it?"

There was a silence. Ted realised pretty quickly that this was an argument he was going to lose, so he sighed as he stood up. It was fine, at least he wouldn't have to keep face here when all he wanted to do was sleep until his problems went away. "... Fine." He muttered, shoving his hand in his pocket for his keys and handing them out to Paul. "Wreck it and I kill you, 'kay?"

"Okay..."