#i hated everything i did

[lt-natrace]

just saying

Description: your childhood best friend, bob, is getting really sick of the men you date

Content: being cheated on, mentions of the bird strike, mentions of alcohol, going through a man’s phone, little woman quotes, thinking no one will ever love you like you deserve, little bobby being hurt for like 3 minutes but i fix it, childhood best friends to lovers

Word Count: 2.8k

I wrote this for @jostystyles playlist writing challenge and it was supposed to be posted like 3 weeks ago but life happens sometimes. I chose the song just saying but specifically the lyric "he says he loves you but it's all an act". This also wasn't beta'd so any mistakes are mine and you should just ignore them.

“He just gives me a weird feeling, okay?” Bob said once again, earning an eye roll from you as you walked from the bathroom to your closet.

“Bob,” you started, causing him to look up at you, “I’m not having this conversation again.”

He let out a huff of annoyance and crossed his arms like he used when you’d fight as children. After two decades of being Bob’s best friend, he’s never really changed his habits or learned to let you make your own mistakes. Despite what everyone may think looking at your career paths, a wizzo for the navy and a freelance writer, he was the more reserved and anxious one in the friendship. Even as kids, he would be the one to ask if something was a good idea and as teenagers he would always scold you for making bad choices. It was one of the things that made your friendship work so well.

“Whatever,” he replied flatly, standing up from where he was sitting on your bed, “I have to meet Phoenix for lunch, be safe tonight.”

You gave him a small smile and mumbled out an “I will” as he turned to walk out your front door, leaving you alone with your thoughts. He was your best friend but he drove you insane with how critical he was of the guys you went out with. Bob has always found something wrong or suspicious with each of the guys you’ve dated; Jason made you cry too much, Ethan was too flirty, Zach was too old and so on and so forth. Maybe he ended up being right about every single one of them but Carter was different, seriously. He had a stable job at his Dad’s company, took you to nice dinners and the sex wasn’t bad. Despite all these facts, Bob didn’t like him. All it took was one dinner with him and Bob called you on the way home to tell you everything he thought was wrong. It didn’t matter, Bob wasn’t the boss of you and didn’t get to have a say in who you dated, even if it started fights between the two of you.

—-------

A few hours had passed since Bob left your apartment and the sound of loud banging on the front door pulled you from your research. You closed your laptop screen slightly and walked towards the door, slowly checking the peep hole to see who was waiting on the other side. To your surprise you were met with the sight of Bob, frantically fixing his glasses and trying to catch his breath. He jumped slightly as you opened the front door, letting out a sigh of relief as his eyes met yours.

 “Oh thank goodness you haven’t left yet.” He said, pushing past you and turning to face you as he got a few steps into your apartment, “I need to tell you something, it’s really important.”

You’d seen Bob shaken up many times in your life, but this was a whole new level. His hands were shaking, his face was flushed from what you assumed was him running up the multiple flights of stairs and he was pacing back and forth. You watched him for a moment, trying to take in his energy and figure out what could possibly have gotten him so worked up. He stared at you until you motioned him to speak.

“Carter,” he started and you let out a groan of frustration, “No, I’m serious, you need to listen to me. He was at lunch with some girl, she had dark hair and-”

“Jesus Christ,” you cut him off as before verifying the time on your watch, “He was probably getting lunch with a coworker or a business partner.”

“Do you hold hands and pay for business partner’s lunches?” He pushed back as he took a few more steps and began to lean onto the counter. It wasn’t until this moment that you realized how much broader he had gotten on his most recent deployment. You walked to the other side of the island and matched his motion in a sad attempt to stand your ground against him, “He wouldn’t do that to me, he loves me.” You tried, unsure of who you were trying to convince at this point.

“Do you even hear yourself right now? That douchebag has you so wrapped around his fucking finger that you would do anything to defend him, he says he loves you but it’s all an act, he has someone behind your back!” Bob snapped back, his voice suddenly taking up the kitchen. He was never one to raise his voice, especially at a woman and his actions only made you angrier.

“You know what, I know what this is about. You’re jealous,” your voice was laced with venom as you spoke and Bob let out a small laugh, “Yeah, you’re jealous that I’ve found someone I wanna tell everything to and you haven’t. I can’t be that for you forever Bob, it’s time to grow up.”

Bob swore he’d felt his heart break when he had to watch you go to prom with the quarterback or when he couldn’t find Phoenix after their ejection. But this feeling as he watched you walk away from him was worse than heartbreak, this made his stomach turn and he had to fight back the bile rising in his throat. Before you could say anything else, Bob was storming out of your apartment and slamming the door so hard you swore the hinges came off. You and Bob had fought before but never anything like this. You wanted to run after him and tell him you didn’t mean any of it but you couldn’t. Your feet stayed planted in your kitchen, the silence somehow louder than the argument that had just taken place. 

As if on cue, your phone began to ring and a picture of Carter from the last date you two had gone on flashed across the screen. For a moment, you debated ignoring it, Bob’s accusations still heavy in the back of your mind. You pushed them back as you answered the call and tried to hide the shake in your voice.

—----

It’s been nearly a month since your fight with Bob. The two of you had spoken a few times but mainly conversations in passing about your days or if the other was going out that weekend. Bob had tried to make amends a few times but you ignored every attempt, he had no right to step into your relationship and throw accusations like that with not even a grainy picture to back it up. Above all, you were upset that he put such an idea into your mind in the first place. Now you felt like you were putting Carter’s every action under a microscope and looking for a flaw in it, even if you genuinely believed he was innocent. 

You cursed Bob again as you tried desperately to see if Carter had left his location turned on. To your dismay, he hadn’t. He was supposed to pick you up for dinner over an hour ago. It wasn’t the first time he was late but it was the first time he didn’t have an excuse. He had a tough job and was usually forced to stay late at the office working on whatever he did all day. It wasn’t that you didn’t care to ask, he just assured you it was complicated and difficult to understand. Usually you’d pace for a little and then clean up a bit so it looked nice when he got here, but not this time. You sat on the couch, your heels ditched as you refreshed his location again. 

After a few more moments, you heard the spare key clicking the lock of your front door open and sprang to your feet as he opened the door. He was still in his work suit with a bouquet of flowers and a bottle of expensive wine in one hand and take out from your favorite restaurant in the other. You couldn’t help but be slightly disappointed at the canceled plans after the effort you had put in getting ready but you could never turn down a night in, especially after what you assumed was a hard day on his part.

“Woman, my god you look good. If I knew this was what was waiting for me I would have told them to cancel the meeting all together.” He said as you made your way over to him and reached up to kiss his cheek, “Let me grab a quick shower and we can eat, feel free to open that bottle up.”

Usually this action would have warmed your heart but you can’t help but hear Bob’s voice repeating over and over in your mind. You’ve never been the jealous type, if someone wanted to go out and ruin what you had they could go ahead and do it, their loss. However, the sight of his phone sitting on the counter, lost under the flowers caused something to change in your mind. It’s an invasion of privacy absolutely, but what if it just unlocked when you moved it?

A text lighting up his screen pulled you from your thoughts. A picture from someone named Brett flashed across the screen. Against what you were raised to believe was right or wrong, you unlocked it. The picture filled the screen and you saw a t-shirt that you had bought him on someone who was definitely not Brett. She had dark brown hair that fell to one side and the hem was pulled up slightly to reveal black lace. You listened for a second to see if the water was still running before scrolling through more messages. Most of them were plans to meet up at some point but one in particular caught your eye. It was from almost a month ago and he was reassuring her that Bob hadn’t noticed they were at the restaurant. Your stomach turned and you held back a dry heave as you grabbed your phone to take pictures of the messages. 

You pushed back your tears as you heard the water turn off and quickly put the phone back to where it was, preparing yourself to watch his every move as you poured a heavy glass of wine. It only took him a moment to appear back in the kitchen, his suit traded for a pair of sweats and you made your way to him, holding your arms out for a hug. He put his arms around you and you could feel his gaze behind you on the counter, frantic eyes hoping to see his phone in the same spot.

“Oh honey, some guy named Brett texted you while you were upstairs.” You said as you pulled away.

He saw him tense for a moment before quickly relaxing in an attempt to not raise suspicions. He made his way towards the cupboard to grab a glass and you continued, “he said he found one of your shirts, I think it was the one I got you from that concert a few months ago.”

The glass slipped from his hands and he turned around quickly, “It’s not what you think.”

You stared blankly at him as you attempted to control your breathing and stay calm. He really thought you were stupid and would believe him.

“Not what I think?” you questioned, your voice cracking at the end, “What it looks like is while I’ve put my dreams on hold to be your housewife in training, you’ve been going out and fucking an intern while I wait at home, hoping you’ll be home before dinner gets cold.”

He opened his mouth to speak but no words came out. You spoke up again before he got a chance to reply, “Get out”

His face twisted in confusion, assuming he misheard you, “What did you say?”

“I’m telling you to get out, I want my spare key on the counter now and I’ll leave your stuff at your house later.” You replied, shocked at how much you were able to hide the shakiness of your voice. In the nearly year of dating, you had never talked back to him and the shock on his face told you that no one ever had.

It didn’t take long for the anger and shock to fade into embarrassment. In fact by the time your feet felt the cool bathroom tile, a few tears had begun to fall. The sight of the makeup and outfit you spent too much time on in an attempt to impress Carter only made them fall harder. They weren’t out of sadness for the situation but instead for how you treated Bob when he tried to warn you. You stared at your phone for a moment, debating if it was too late to call him. You decided to give it a try anyways and the sight of Bob’s contact photo caused your heart to break even further as the fear that you might have ruined everything hit you. It was an old photo from college that you took as he subtly flipped you off and you wondered if the two of you could ever go back to how it was then.

He picked up on the second ring and the sound of his slight drawl caused a small smile to appear on your face, “Hello?”

You sniffled deeply and heard rustling coming through the speaker, “Are you okay?”

Before you could reply, you heard Bob’s front door slamming and his shoes hitting the pavement quickly. The call was disconnected as he got into his truck and you were left in silence with your thoughts again. You debated changing but couldn’t convince your body to get up and face yourself in the mirror.

The sound of your front door being opened a few minutes later caused you to lift your head from the bathroom floor, “Carter, I told you-” you started before seeing who had opened the door, “Bob? You came.”

“You called.” He replied, kneeling down next to you and pushing your hair off of your face. You couldn’t imagine how you must have looked, mascara beginning to smear under your eyes, your hair getting caught on your dampened cheeks. Despite this, Bob’s face didn’t falter, he only used his hands to push your hair off your face and his thumbs to wipe your cheeks. 

“You were right,” you started as you sat up slightly, your eyes unable to meet his, “I feel so stupid.”

Bob’s body tensed, his jaw clenching as he wrapped his arms around you. This isn’t the first break up Bob had held you through and at this point, it won’t be the last. Despite all the times your exes had tried to get Bob out of your life, he has always been there to pick up the pieces they left you in. 

“I’m scared no one will ever love me,” you whispered so quietly, if it wasn’t for your head against Bob’s neck he probably wouldn’t have heard you. 

You felt Bob’s breath hitch at your admission and another wave of embarrassment washed over you. It was a thought that circled your mind but it was usually late into the night after Carter had turned his back to you and he thought you couldn’t hear him texting on his phone. Bob didn’t say anything for a few minutes and the pit in your stomach only grew. Eventually he spoke, his voice nearly as quiet as yours.

“I have loved you ever since I have known you”

His words hung in the air for what felt like an eternity. His once calm heartbeat was now pounding against yours as the two of you stayed holding each other on the cold tile. The embarrassment and anger from earlier faded to anxious butterflies as you sat up straight to look into his eyes. Half of you expected to wake up and be laying next to Carter, all of this having been a dream. But there he was, the man you have loved since you were a teenager, admitting he felt the same in his spiderman pajama pants. 

Bob cut you off as you opened your mouth, “I’ve waited far too long to tell you and I know this is horrible timing and if you don’t feel the same that’s fine but I have to tell you before I lose you to someone-”

“Shut up,” you mumbled before closing the small gap between the two of you. The kiss was light and slow, unlike any other man you’d ever been with. There was no rush to go to work or get into bed, just this moment and you were determined to make it last.

The two of you sat in a comfortable silence for a while, both trying to absorb the events from the night. Eventually Bob helped you up from the ground, wiped the smeared makeup off and helped you into bed. Not the first time he had done so but the first time it was followed by him crawling in next to you and holding you close. 

[lokittystuckinatree]

I am simultaneously deliriously in love with the ending of Loki season 2 and absolutely loathe it

On one hand…Shakespearean tragedy at its finest, essentially circling back to Loki’s original Thor 2011 character arc by reversing it, and Loki has literally ascended to godhood. In the end, Loki’s ultimate selfless sacrifice was to sit upon the highest throne in the multiverse, and that to me is tragically ironically beautiful

On the other hand…Loki being alone makes me want to burn Marvel studios to the ground and do other unspeakable things

Best and worst ending of all time f u Eric Martin

[inkskinned]

the thing about art is that it was always supposed to be about us, about the human-ness of us, the impossible and beautiful reality that we (for centuries) have stood still, transfixed by music. that we can close our eyes and cry about the same book passage; the events of which aren't real and never happened. theatre in shakespeare's time was as real as it is now; we all laugh at the same cue (pursued by bear), separated hundreds of years apart.

three years ago my housemates were jamming outdoors, just messing around with their instruments, mostly just making noise. our neighbors - shy, cautious, a little sheepish - sat down and started playing. i don't really know how it happened; i was somehow in charge of dancing, barefoot and laughing - but i looked up, and our yard was full of people. kids stacked on the shoulders of parents. old couples holding hands. someone had brought sidewalk chalk; our front walk became a riot of color. someone ran in with a flute and played the most astounding solo i've ever heard in my life, upright and wiggling, skipping as she did so. she only paused because the violin player was kicking his heels up and she was laughing too hard to continue.

two weeks ago my friend and i met in the basement of her apartment complex so she could work out a piece of choreography. we have a language barrier - i'm not as good at ASL as i'd like to be (i'm still learning!) so we communicate mostly through the notes app and this strange secret language of dancers - we have the same movement vocabulary. the two of us cracking jokes at each other, giggling. there were kids in the basement too, who had been playing soccer until we took up the far corner of the room. one by one they made their slow way over like feral cats - they laid down, belly-flat against the floor, just watching. my friend and i were not in tutus - we were in slouchy shirts and leggings and socks. nothing fancy. but when i asked the kids would you like to dance too? they were immediately on their feet and spinning. i love when people dance with abandon, the wild and leggy fervor of childhood. i think it is gorgeous.

their adults showed up eventually, and a few of them said hey, let's not bother the nice ladies. but they weren't bothering us, they were just having fun - so. a few of the adults started dancing awkwardly along, and then most of the adults. someone brought down a better sound system. someone opened a watermelon and started handing out slices. it was 8 PM on a tuesday and nothing about that day was particularly special; we might as well party.

one time i hosted a free "paint along party" and about 20 adults worked quietly while i taught them how to paint nessie. one time i taught community dance classes and so many people showed up we had to move the whole thing outside. we used chairs and coatracks to balance. one time i showed up to a random band playing in a random location, and the whole thing got packed so quickly we had to open every door and window in the place.

i don't think i can tell you how much people want to be making art and engaging with art. they want to, desperately. so many people would be stunning artists, but they are lied to and told from a very young age that art only matters if it is planned, purposeful, beautiful. that if you have an idea, you need to be able to express it perfectly. this is not true. you don't get only 1 chance to communicate. you can spend a lifetime trying to display exactly 1 thing you can never quite language. you can just express the "!!??!!!"-ing-ness of being alive; that is something none of us really have a full grasp on creating. and even when we can't make what we want - god, it feels fucking good to try. and even just enjoying other artists - art inherently rewards the act of participating.

i wasn't raised wealthy. whenever i make a post about art, someone inevitably says something along the lines of well some of us aren't that lucky. i am not lucky; i am dedicated. i have a chronic condition, my hands are constantly in pain. i am not neurotypical, nor was i raised safe. i worked 5-7 jobs while some of these memories happened. i chose art because it mattered to me more than anything on this fucking planet - i would work 80 hours a week just so i could afford to write in 3 of them.

and i am still telling you - if you are called to make art, you are called to the part of you that is human. you do not have to be good at it. you do not have to have enormous amounts of privilege. you can just... give yourself permission. you can just say i'm going to make something now and then - go out and make it. raquel it won't be good though that is okay, i don't make good things every time either. besides. who decides what good even is?

you weren't called to make something because you wanted it to be good, you were called to make something because it is a basic instinct. you were taught to judge its worth and over-value perfection. you are doing something impossible. a god's ability: from nothing springs creation.

a few months ago i found a piece of sidewalk chalk and started drawing. within an hour i had somehow collected a small classroom of young children. their adults often brought their own chalk. i looked up and about fifteen families had joined me from around the block. we drew scrangly unicorns and messed up flowers and one girl asked me to draw charizard. i am not good at drawing. i basically drew an orb with wings. you would have thought i drew her the mona lisa. she dragged her mother over and pointed and said look! look what she drew for me and, in the moment, i admit i flinched (sorry, i don't -). but the mother just grinned at me. he's beautiful. and then she sat down and started drawing.

someone took a picture of it. it was in the local newspaper. the summary underneath said joyful and spontaneous artwork from local artists springs up in public gallery. in the picture, a little girl covered in chalk dust has her head thrown back, delighted. laughing.

[dead-girl-tells-stories]

DC x DP Idea

After several years, Danny and Damian meet each other again at a gala. But there was no heartfelt reunion since the moment they led eyes on each other it was all-out war. Damian takes out a sword from somewhere and Danny just starts throwing hands.

The fighting is intense, and blood is being spilled (what are those glowing green specks?). They are screaming at each other in Arabic as it's easier to slip back to your mother tongue when in rage right? This makes the fight more personal.

Most people don't understand what they're saying but those who do look at the boys then Bruce. Bruce then back to the boys again. Like B, we know you're stupid but you fucked this person twice.... did you NOT see the red flags the SECOND TIME!?!?

The fight ends with Damian on the ground with the sword grazing his neck. He looks up to Danyal with the fear of god in his eyes, knowing that with one swift movement, he'll be dead on the dance floor. But Danny's eyes were cold and tired, they were dead. No spark, no sense of life in those chilling blue depths.

Calmly, Danny spoke to Damian. His voice was crystal clear, cool like a mountain stream.

"Just because you jumped into the fire behind me doesn't mean you felt the pain I did.  Your hand was held above the flames while I was being burnt in the fucking fire."

Damian begins to cry because he knows that Danny is right. No matter what he went through, it would never compare to what happened to his big brother. Even more so, when he feels long lanky arms wrap around him, a cool hand rubbing his back soothingly, and whispers of sweet nothingness entering his ears.

He cries because no matter what he does he will never be like his big brother.

[suntails]

toot toot!

[fizzierolli]

rewatching Ozzie's now is soooo fucking funny like they really were so bad at keeping this a secret 😭

[cultofcipher]

Bill Cipher thoughts (BoB Spoilers Ahead)

I'm really sitting on how Bill's displayed so much of himself indirectly in the BoB. How during the Love section he denies having exes, marking them out. How said exes show up SEVERAL times scratched out or are regarded with this bitterness of someone who did NOT do the breaking up part. Bill got dumped. Every time. And is desperately trying to bury his feelings.

And that's something I think the Book of Bill really highlights in a way. The fact that Bill has feelings. That deep down he's a broken triangle. It's all over the book's writing. Him pointing out how to use denial and rationalization and other bad coping mechanisms to basically ignore and lie to himself (and show us how to do it) and basically convince himself that he is as heartless as he tries to be. Him avoiding his exes. The tone he uses and the avoidance really giving the "I don't handle breakups well and I'm still petty about it". Him constantly telling himself that he's fine. He's not fine. Him crying over Ford leaving and getting wasted. Him being bitter about the henchmaniacs not calling. His regret over what happened to his world. His loneliness. GOD his loneliness. His self-hatred. His scathing remark about definitely NOT having some tragic backstory that humanizes him and how he's not an "I can fix him case". Calling himself a monster. His longing for home. The "Last one breathing". The "I tried to change the past". The "my hands shaking, as I realized I could never undo the". The "until there was no one left but me, covered in blood, alone in the universe". The goddamn "I don't want to die alone" Valentine's card. The last few pages. Just, the last few pages. That isolation, his pained "I'M FINE". The almost sad plea for someone to let him out.

Bill cares. He's fucked up, unstable, violent. But he does care about people he gets along with and he feels understand him. For every "I'm just playing the bit" and using people with nice gestures, I think a fraction of that is somewhat genuine. And he hates it. He hates his own vulnerability. He hates his lack of apathy. He's denying himself his own emotions constantly under so many layers of distractions, eldritch horrors, and repression. He can't think about home, about failure, about how every relationship he's ever had, platonically or otherwise, ended. And it wasn't on his terms.

Him talking about/to his mom when he's drunk. How his mom called him Billy as a kid. How his home life sounded simple. How Bill as an individual is anything BUT simple. And how his drunken state holds such fondness for that simplicity, yet it was suffocating. How he would've broken free eventually, inevitably, because he knew that's who he was. It's his nature. He was destined for more.

How it cost him everything.

How he's constantly chasing insanity like it's a drug. Like he needs the power trip to stay high. To not think too hard. To drown out his emotions and his self-reflections and everything he hates about himself.

How in Gravity Falls he still tried to get Ford to side with him after everything, cause that was his vulnerability showing, for the slightest glimpse of a moment. Cause he doesn't want to do it alone. Him reaching out to the reader in his book, because he doesn't want to do it alone. Can't do it alone. Even when he eventually betrays that person, I think him offering Ford that cushy spot alongside his henchmaniacs makes me think that yeah, Bill actually would've upheld his end of the deal.

He thinks he wants multiversal domination. He thinks Weirdmageddon is his Magnum Oppus. His purpose. But he's so lost. If he ever does get what he wants, he won't know what to do with himself. He'll be faced with the "Now what?". He'll hit the end of the road and realize how unsatisfying it is. How this isn't what he wanted.

How lonely it is to be God.

I think the Axolotl sees that in Bill. It's why he doesn't try to destroy him or attack him or anything. He sees that inner self of Bill. Sees him for what he really is. Someone who needs a LOT of therapy, a true, honest to goodness friend or partner in his life, and maybe a more sustainable life purpose or hobby. He has so much potential and in a way his pursuit of power, rather than being an actualization of his abilities, is a waste of them, because it gets him nowhere.

And he needs help, even if he doesn't think he does. He's a depressed alcoholic frat boy trying to drown his misery in a way that hurts and kills worlds. He's a girlfailure, a bisexual/pansexual disaster (he's at LEAST canonically bisexual or at MOST canonically pan cause this guy has dated both ways).

Bill's book is so incredibly amazing for what it is. All the lies, all the unrealiable narrator parts of Bill's facades and flaws and him being himself and all of his genuine thoughts and feelings bleeding through the lines and showing themselves but only in a way that you can really understand if you understand him and can tell when he's lying and when he's not. To see the real parts of him, and everything else. This book was perfect, and it was perfectly imperfectly him. This truly is Bill's book. It's so him in such a raw and genuine yet dishonest way. I'm gonna cherish this damn book forever.

[ominous-horse-noises]

anyway i want to reiterate that i hope the rat grinders are tpk'd, revived and uncorrupted solely bc i want them to have to spend senior year together. 'redeemed' doesnt necessarily mean friendly with the bad kids and honestly? its so much funnier if they continue being bitchy to each other but without the trying to end the world stuff. they've built plenty of positive relationships w/ former villains now it's time for the next stage: uneasy alliance buzzing with the tension of both sides trying to hold back the urge to clown on each other

introducing, fantasy high senior year: the group project

[sheepthatgobaa]

sleepover with the buddies.

[danandphag]

this is genuinely the funniest thing i've ever seen

[criticalbeauregard]

i truly commend and admire marisha ray to no end because someone with less confidence or thinner skin (probably myself included) would've shied away from these big character choices after the way keyleth was treated but following keyleth up with beau and then LAUDNA is a true feat. she has never once backed down or diluted herself to be more palatable or even to just avoid catching the brunt of completely misplaced and blind hate from many "fans" + baffling misinterpretations of her actions. sometimes i get really upset about how some viewers talk about her choices and characters and then i just have to remember that she literally doesn't give a single fuck and neither should i.

[fuumiku]

It was Maid Day today yesterday a week ago so I got struck by inspiration to draw the worsties, and it ran away from me into a whole AU where they’re coworkers at a maid cafe. She’s a med student & this is just a part time job, and this is his depression job while he gets his life back together. He needs something he can be workaholic about to forget what it’s like having a personal life and personal issues. He’s actually the accountant, but the new hire janitor (Izutsumi) doesn’t show up for half her shifts and is a sloppy worker, so he gets the extra work of doing her job on top of his because he’s undervalued and overworked. Of course, janitors also have an uniform to keep the aesthetic cohesion as they go about cleaning the place, of course.

Senshi’s the part time cook you only see slivers off, he’s kind and warm when you do see him and have a chat but most shifts he’s in and out the kitchen without a trace. Laios and Falin are regulars because Falin and Marcille are besties & in the same med school, Laios accompanies Falin as she visits her friend at work and gets hooked on the food. Chilchuck has to remind Marcille to work instead of chatting with Falin for an hour, and next thing he knows she’s distracting him from work too. That’s it that’s the AU. Inspired by this idol AU fanart a bit <3

This was not meant to be birthday gift but well…… Happy bday Chil!!!

Read from left to right

[coin-z3fs]

After school chatter.

[my-fall-from-grace]

ok yknow what i’m gonna say it

no matter how “bad” logan has been or how “little” he deserves this 2nd year or how he’s a “pay driver” or whatever else y’all always say

he doesn’t deserve this. any of this

since the very first moment he stepped in a f1 car, he’s been treated as a joke. first it was the wtf is a kilometre jokes then rah rah eagles and now logan in the wall / fork found in kitchen / deuxmoi memes. every weekend, the commentators compare him to his teammate, ignoring the difference in experience and the way they aren’t even driving the same car and that logan was literally running last years specs multiple times. they compare him to oscar, who has driven multiple times f1 cars during test runs and is in a mclaren and the situations are not even remotely similar, ignoring that logan was promoted early, that he didn’t have much opportunity to drive f1 cars even for testing, that he was literally tossed into the deep end without any help and told to survive.

the only time they were even remotely kind to him was when they gave his car to alex. which thanks for the support or whatever but that is so backhanded i don’t even have the words to describe it.

i think we’re all coming to the terms with the reality that this will be his last year in f1. and i don’t think that’s fair for so many reasons. you promote him early, you give him a shit car, you talk bad about him in the media and you don’t promote him (lap of legends hello?) and you openly court other drivers for his seat. you disrespect him and allow others to disrespect him and that’s not right.

formula 1 is the dream for so many people. imagine achieving your dream, even if it’s in a joke of a team, even if it’s too early. but then you become the joke of a joke, you become the american, which is a bad thing. the outsider, the one who doesn’t belong. they make fun of you each weekend. they ask every day when you’ll be replaced.

(and yeah i agree. he does need to improve to have any hope of keeping his seat, f1 is brutal and it’s never been kind, and i’m not being naive and thinking oh it’s his dream and so he deserves it despite it all. i’m not saying that. what i am saying is that is a human being, just like nicholas latifi was, and some of you are too comfortable being cruel.)

speaking of being the american. they make fun of you as though that will punish the fia for putting 3 us races on the calendar. as though that will punish all the american fans who came to f1 through drive to survive. as though that will keep f1 pure and european and whatever the fuck else - they do the same to yuki and zhou and checo and lewis and even if logan’s situation is not even remotely similar to what they’ve experienced, there’s a bias to f1 that cannot be ignored.

but that’s not the point i’m trying to make. not today

this was your dream. this was your dream. and you were never allowed to enjoy it because you became the punchline of a joke the minute you accepted the seat. it was always going to end like this. you knew that.

so yeah. congrats to logan for achieving his dream of driving in f1! it’s unfortunate that he was never allowed to live it.

[thelaurenshippen]

911 really is such a good reminder of the particularly kind of joy that is weekly, seasons-long shows with many episodes per season. every character gets a moment to shine even in a truncated season. the satisfaction of seeing characters grapple with stuff that happened YEARS ago. having multi-episode arcs and one-off arcs that are equally enjoyable. beach episodes (metaphorical). I know we're all saying this all the time but why can't more tv be like this

[umblrspectrum]

i think the idea of v finding uzis last name hilarious is a really funny one