#I needed the chance someone sees this

[umnitsa]

Ok, this is gonna get beautifully weird but I do not care.

For I am a fangirl and an IT manager, I've been studying this shit (management and leadership) for 15 years and fuck, I love The Office. In the process of checking cameo (I'm brazilian, there isn't a service like that in brazil and it's an interesting product!), I found Andy Buckley's page.

David Wallace. Fuck, I loved that character. And that got me thinking 'why? Why do I have this reaction to my ADHD possibly autist brain getting suddenly reminded of him?'

I watched The Office many, many times. I feel tempted to start a rewatch right now. As I grew older and became an Agilist (basically a specialist in frameworks and methodologies, I help organizations become more efficient, for whatever it's worth...), anyway, as I became this management process improver, the show took a different turn. I started feeling for the management too, mostly David Wallace. Because while management in that series is a bunch of crazy people, David seemed honest to me. An honest manager, trying to do what he is paid for. Make decisions to improve profit for some asshole somewhere. I don't think any of this is fair, I just have to play the game and do my part, because I'm fascinated by my work. I'm fascinated by the people machine that is an organization. I work in a startup bank. We are trying to survive and I feel for those people's jobs. I want us all to survive and thrive in our careers. I don't like where the money goes, but I take infinite comfort in improving knowledge workers conditions (IT right now, but I worked in other industries).

We can be efficient and work in good conditions, I just need good honest managers. Good honest managers who understand we work with PEOPLE, and we should value them as the builders of wealth, treat them well. As well as it's possible. At least provide a healthy work environment. I can help it get better and make it a better place for everyone. I know I can. (I'm a socialist at heart, and as I watch The Last Of Us, I think Jackson is my utopia, but I'm a fucking IT manager in Brazil and in the case of fungus I would be fucking dead and my fictional self would never get the fabulous chance to see the glorious faces of Gabriel Luna and Pedro Pascal. Oh, Gabriel Luna's freckles and Pedro Pascal's big brown eyes... But I digress...)

(Yes, I feel compelled to refer to them in their complete artistic names. Like David Wallace.)

As I rewatch The Office, I feel for those people. And I feel for him, for some crazy reason. A friend of mine said all management in The Office are the asshole bosses, but I just think David Wallace was sincerely trying to make things happen in the healthiest way possible. He was sincere, as a manager, the best he could. I have always been in the operational level, and I thought I could never never get up in the ladder, but the more I worked, the more I realized I was just trying to mitigate the decisions of other people. The real key to change is going upwards.

So I took the step. I was going to help someone, somewhere.

And the moment I felt ready to take the step, the job landed on my lap. It is a good fit. Good people. Good team.

(The ADHD diagnosis and the real possibility I am autistic gave me the courage to take the step. Recognizing my symptoms gave me the understanding I could do my job, I could follow my fascination. I suddenly had the clarity of my challenges and I felt deep within I could make things BETTER and not worse for people. I don't know, I'm traumatized, I hate to be a burden)

It's on my shoulders now. I have to change this company, change this management, it's a good fit, a good team, I can relate to these people and I care for them. Deeply.

(I question those feelings all the time, because I often feel detached from the situation. Things seem so petty and when I consider the weight of personal ego and motivations for the people I work with, I am reminded of the complexity of my work and this world, and the complexity of an individual human being and I just want to die. It is so overwhelming. I am one person and I'm fucking weird. Am I chasing the impossible dream of a healthy work environment and am I going to die regretting the years of work I sold just to survive comfortably in this crazy place? The only truly valuable thing I have, my time in this world, sold to make a handful of people live a better life than mine. A life with less fear for losing the precious comfort they have. Fuck, I should have some comfort. Everybody should have comfort, or the certainty of survival with their basic needs met. But I digress.)

I am in the point I can make some change for some people, hopefully for better, I can convince those people, I can do things that make the environment better for the people to work with me.

But I am scared and intimidated. C-level people are rich people and honest to god (if it exists), I have a fuckload of privileges (I'm white), but I am read as a woman, and I am poor. To make it worse for those people, I'm fat, and I have been finding my empowering in comfort, so I wear the way I like (and there are a lot of colors), I'm comfortable in my clothes and in my body, finally.

I grew lower class. Mom was a secretary. She made me study. I loved studying what I loved, and I was good with it because I made interesting connections. You gave me a reason to love the subject, I would be fascinated by it. I have always loved literature, but I could only understand and remember all those facts and numbers by connecting literature, geography and history to make SENSE of it all. I do not understand humans in any way, collectively or individually, but I think we are all brilliant.

(now I know ADHD made school impossibly hard, but I believe the autism helped me find interesting solutions for my challenges. I was never able to stand college though, unfortunately. I do believe there is a wealth of knowledge there that I would love to be exposed to, but my brain can't take that environment, and I'm too old to put myself in more distress than necessary.)

So, yeah, I am weird to those neurotypical white rich men.

I'm intimidated. I'm scared. I'm suddenly very aware of all my perceived flaws, I can't TALK to those people. We don't have the same experiences, we don't have the same culture, and I don't fucking care for their culture, but they do.

I'm an honest manager with the understand I have to convince those people to behave better in the benefit of the collective. I need them to respect me and listen to me so I can help my fellow workers.

Don't get me wrong, I'm a worker. I'm closer to living in the streets than I should, considering the money I made for those people. But life is not fair and I am not gonna get into that wormhole.

So as I rewatch The Office through my career, I started thinking of honest managers. Of the people who are sincerely and honestly trying to do their jobs, make the better decisions for profit, with some empathy for their workers.

And I felt David Wallace was like me. Sincere.

And I know how Michael Scotts and Jen Levinsons can make this job HARDER. And it is worse when you have some empathy and try to do the best for the people who you work with and the company you work for. It is a weird job.

So I am now doing this. Trying to find all the David Wallaces in my workplace. (so far, not sure there are any but I found Michael Scotts <3)

Art is an incredible thing. As I rewatch The Office I think of all the people I work with and I love them more in their complexities. Comedy is a beautiful thing (I am a comedian, at least I'm trying and people say I'm good. I'm not so sure, but I will accept their word). I feel so blessed I get to be alive and feel all those things. The enchantment I feel as I see a man (as complex as I am, with a whole life history) pretending to be another man (with his presumed complexities as a character) recorded for my entertainment, saying words written by other people (as complex as I am) with the objective of making other people laugh and feel pleasure, get sad and touched and happy. This is so... Glorious. That we get to be alive and touch each other through art, music, dance, TV, movies, literature. Each people involved with their own story, their complexities and quirks. And because of them we get to be here in this website gathering through fandom and fanfic, art made from people by other people (all complex, from everywhere), it is glorious and beautiful. I don't understand humans, but we sure do incredible, outstanding, impossible things.

Now I am saving money to get Andy Buckley's cameo. I think he earned some of my money for his part in making me feel all of this. Also, I could really use a pep talk from David Wallace.

I don't know how to play this game, I don't even understand what is happening. But I have to influence those people, so I can make my life slightly better and make life slightly better for someone.

It is so overwhelming. Reality is complex, I love those people because I recognize their complexity and their suffering, as petty as it seems to me... we are all people. And it feels terribly overwhelming. My survival depends on this and I can't seem to harvest my own talents in my benefit.

I just needed to say that. It is honest. I love this existence but I can't deal with it most of the time.

[poorly-drawn-mdzs]

Danse Macabre

[Commission]

[centrumlumina]

i don't know who needs to hear this right now, but:

you are not going to let that fucker outlive you.

[kaleidoscopicbullettrain]

theres something incredible in terms of symbiotic symbolism for the betrayer gods and the primes. notably between asmodeus and serenrae is like. "your existence fuels mine. without you there is no meaningful victory for my domain."

in the face of despair, hope must be the strongest its ever been

the stronger the hope, the harder the betrayal sticks the landing

[luck-of-the-drawings]

!!! FLASHING LIGHTS WARNING!!! [IM NOT FUCKIN AROUND!!]

REACHED THE CUSP OF 'THIS MAY NEVER BE ABSOLUTELY FINISHED N IF I DONT SHOW IT NOW, IT WILL NEVER SEE THE LIGHT OF DAY.' SO HERE, A PROJECT IVE BEEN ORBITING AROUND UHH SINCE 2021 OR SO.

[booasaur]

Harlan Coben's Shelter - 1x07

[jakes3resin]

Modern Reincarnation AU Part 4 ✨️

Part 3

"John?"

Bucky storms past Jack into the townhouse. It's rude, but he'll apologize later. He doesn't know why he came here instead of his apartment. Old habits dying a hard drawn out death, maybe? He hadn't been thinking clearly. Hadn't been thinking at all really until he found himself waved through by his father's security detail.

"Oh, is that John?" He hears his father call out, dress shoes clicking against hardwood as he walks closer, but Bucky stomps up the stairs towards his room before he sees the man. His breaths come out in rushes as tears keep burning his eyes.

Shit, he thought he'd gotten those under control on the train.

Slamming his door, he slides down until he rests against the floor. He tosses his bag to the side wincing at the sound it makes. Hopefully his laptop survives. At some point he does actually have to do the work he went to the library to finish.

The library.

Buck and Curt.

They wouldn't, Bucky tells himself. They wouldn't. Curt was one of his best friends, and Buck loved him. They...

Fuck they were roommates! Why the hell were they talking about that shit in public? In the place Bucky considered his? Why even pretend? Why drag Bucky into this? Why?!

Bucky buries his face into his hands. His chest hitches as he tries not to sob. He doesn't want his father or Jack to worry about him. He doesn't want to talk this through.

He wants...

He wants Buck. He wants the other to pull him into his arms. To kiss him again as if today had never happened. There was something else about being with Buck, something he'd never felt with anyone else be they friend or lover. He made Bucky feel safe and wanted. Wanted not because of his family and connections but because he was himself.

Buck would know how to make him feel better.

He laughs quietly through his tears. Distantly, he can hear Jack briefing his father downstairs, the words faint but he hears his name and tears used together. His laughter is more sob than anything else. Of course, the one good thing he'd found would end up belonging to someone else. Story of his life.

✨️

There's too much work to do. At least that's the excuse Bucky gave himself for not confronting Buck and Curt immediately. There wasn't time for a confrontation and subsequent blowup of his life.

At least that's the lie he tells himself.

Bucky chews on the straw of his iced coffee as he skims yet another chapter. There's a pumpkin muffin in front of him that he swore would be his reward for getting through this fourty page reading. Midterms have come and gone, but Bucky still has deadlines to meet and research to complete. He can't sit in his room forever, as much as his father and Jack would sometimes prefer that. Better protection from whatever sent Bucky crying to his room as his father would argue. Better protection for his father's political career Jack would quip.

Speaking of protection, Bucky glanced to the side of the cafe towards his security detail. At least these guys attempted to blend in. His father must have briefed them on his track record with previous details. Bucky smirked around his straw. They'd be easy to lose come rush hour. A bit of fun even.

Bucky turned back to his reading, squinting down at the words.

"American airmen during World War II had a dismal life expectancy. It was not a matter of if an airman was going to be shot down but when. Once downed, airmen faced an uncertain 'reception committee,' as Second Lieutenant Kenneth C. Reimer noted in a drawing he made as a POW in Stalag Luft I in Barth, Germany... 'for every [ground combat] soldier killed in action, three or four others would be wounded; air combat was completely the opposite. For every man wounded, three were killed.'"

"Bucky?" A hand settles on his shoulder jolting him out of his reading.

Bucky kept his shoulders loose as he turns around. Buck stares down at him, a bright smile on his face that Bucky can't help but match despite his grief. It wasn't even something he could control. Buck smiled at him, so he smiled back. Bucky felt pitiful.

Buck's sky blue eyes are clear and happy as they dart across Bucky's face. There's no sign that he realizes Bucky overheard him yesterday.

Bucky lifts a hand to calm his detail, all alert now after Buck's friendly greeting. He sees the nearest agent settle back into their chair but knows none of them are relaxed. He darts a look up at Buck, peering at the other through his glasses to see if he'd noticed the disturbance.

Buck's gaze, as it always does, doesn't leave Bucky's face. Even when he rounds the table to sit down, his eyes are pinned on Bucky and nothing else.

"Sorry I couldn't meet up yesterday," Buck dumps his bag onto the chair next to him. Bucky's smile twitches. Buck sits down across from him. His legs tangle with Buck's own under the table, Buck's foot gently bumping his ankle.

"It's fine," Bucky chomps down on his straw. "How was your advisor meeting anyway?"

"It was good," Buck smiles at him, not even a hint of guilt on his face. "Real good."

Buck had told Bucky he was called to fill in a shift yesterday and that was why he supposedly hadn't been able to meet up. A lie Buck hadn't even bothered to remember. His advisor meetings were also always in the morning on Thursdays. Today was Tuesday.

Buck was still lying to him, and he wasn't even guilty about it.

✨️

"I went by your place yesterday. You weren't home." Buck swings their clasped hands through the air.

"Hmm?" Bucky glanced away from the traffic around them. His detail were staying a conspicuous ten feet back, but they were annoyingly keen when Buck offered to walk him back to his apartment.

Bucky would lose them another day.

Buck laughed, deep and airy. Bucky struggled not to lose himself in it. That was what made this so hard. Bucky still loved Buck, and Buck still acted like Bucky was his whole world and then some.

"Oh," Bucky finally processed what Buck had said. "No, I went to my dad's for the night."

"Really?" Buck squeezes his hand. Bucky hates how much comfort Buck's touch gives him.

Does Curt receive the same...? No Bucky doesn't let himself finish the thought.

"How was it?" Concern bleeds into Buck's voice. Bucky hates how genuine it sounds. He's starting to use that word more than any other. The longer he looks at Buck, the more he has to hate to save his heart.

"Fine," Bucky shrugged stepping further away as they came to a stoplight. "The usual."

"The Bucky I know wouldn't give such a short answer," Buck stepped closer eating up the space Bucky had put between them. "Not unless something happened yesterday. Come on, you okay?"

Bucky felt the words bubbling up his throat.

I saw you. I saw him. Why are you here staring at me like I'm the most important thing in the world when you have him? Why are you doing this to me? I love you. I love you so much it feels like my soul hurts. I hate you.

"Spent most of the night avoiding his staffers." Bucky lied. "Barely saw him, Jack either, yet he still asked me to move home at breakfast."

Buck nods, accepting his lies. Was that what they were now? Not a relationship, simply a lie? Bucky wasn't sure anymore. His heart thumped against his rib cage, anger and love in every other beat, but he wasn't sure which would win.

Buck had become his whole world in such a short amount of time. He thought the feeling was mutual, but yesterday showed just how stupid Bucky really was.

"How about this," Buck nudged his hip. "Why don't I stay over tonight? We'll binge a few movies, order something, and have night in. Then,"

Buck paused with a stupid grin that, despite himself, Bucky still found charming. Fuck, he was truly pathetic for this.

"I'll sweep you off your feet and take you to bed. How does that sound?"

"Won't Curt be expecting you?" The question pops out of him without meaning to. Gale furrows his brow, confusion growing in his eyes.

"Curt won't miss me tonight."

Sure, he won't, Bucky thinks bitterly.

✨️

"John," Jack's voice was a surprise. Especially considering it was his father's number calling him.

"You've gotten much better at your Jack impression," Bucky answers just to be annoying. "Does he know you impersonate him on official numbers?"

"You're not as funny as you believe."

"Ooh, you even have his disapproving tone down. I feel like he's in the room with us!" Bucky laughs. He peers around the corner. Buck's still where he left him, buried in his phone texting someone.

Bucky doesn't let himself think about who that person is.

"Your father wants to invite you to a dinner tomorrow. You can even bring that boy that walked you home. The one that hasn't left." Pages flip in the background as Jack talks. Probably governmental reports his father was supposed to read.

"You know you're not his chief of staff anymore?" Bucky leaned his hip against the counter. "You don't have to read reports or wrangle his kid to government dinners to help his image as a family man. You're his husband now, you're the family."

"You're my kid too by that logic, so wrangling you gets to stay on my resume." Bucky snorts out a laugh. "Besides, it's not a state dinner or anything. He just wants to see you."

Guilt gnaws at his heart. Buck pokes his head into the kitchen, phone no longer holding all of his attention.

"Fine," Bucky groans. "But if he brings up the apartment again, I'm walking out with my food on my plate even if it's the good plates."

"See you tomorrow at 7 then. Bring your boy." Jack hangs up without a goodbye.

✨️

It'll be me, and it'll be you, Buck.

Don't count on it.

Bucky jerks awake. His dream flashes through his head too fast for him to remember anything. Scenes superimpose over each other, words jumble together. At least this one wasn't a nightmare. Those always left him shakey and off balance all day.

His dreams have always been vivid, ever since he was a kid. The child psychologists he'd gone to had said it was normal and simply a sign of a well developed imagination.

Bucky runs a hand through his hair groaning when he glances towards his bedside clock. It's nearly an hour until he has to get up, but he knows that he won't be getting back to sleep before then.

Buck lays curled up next to him on the bed. Bucky reaches out to brush a hand through the other's hair. Buck twitches leaning into the feeling for half a second but doesn't stir beyond that.

Bucky sighs. Extricating himself from Buck's long limbs takes time. Somehow in the night, Buck had nearly fused them together as if even asleep the man refused to let him go. Arms layered over arms. Legs tangled together. It's an excellent distraction from his dreams but not from the problems of the waking world. If only he could forget those once he woke up like he did his dreams.

It's only when he's pouring water for his coffee that he realizes he recognizes the voice from his dream. A first for him.

It'd been Buck's.

✨️

(Not a confrontation I know, but it builds my AU lol)

[jalluzas-ferney]

THOSE Ninjago fans piss me off so bad I need them to make a Steven universe typa episode where Cole marries Geo and that’s that and they can all go cry to the corner ab it 😒😒😒😒

[phoenixcatch7]

Been reading some ff7 stuff and it's mostly sephiroth based and like... It's so funny seeing people write his thigh length hair, they never get it right.

'he wrapped his hair in a towel on his head-' I appreciate the thought but I can promise you that that hair is coming out the end of the towel and still dripping cold water down his spine despite having been wrung out five times.

'leaving it to dry -' babe it'll be still sopping in six hours and it's incredibly heavy when wet. I don't care how sleek his hair is it's going to frizz if he steps one foot outside in that condition.

'Haha the bottle of shampoo and conditioner every time rumour isn't true-' the shampoo, no, but the conditioner? You'd be surprised!! Not to mention whatever hair oils he uses to prevent all that loose hair matting in seconds!

'he quickly dried his hair-' no.

[orb-weaving]

I have not been so physically unwell about a ship as chronohaul in a long, long time.

[fisheito]

my princess nonsense is being encouraged watch ouyt imabout to be eneaabled

OK WHATF ATHAT'S SO CUTE I HAD TO MAKE IT i know realistically there's little to no chance that rei DOESN'T know how to work heels 🤣 BUT IMAGINE.....ING.... YAKUMO GENTLY GUIDING REI IN HEELS, WEEKS BEFORE THE BIG GALA AND HAVING NONE OF HIS NORMAL FEAR OF PHYSICAL TOUCH BC HIS [TEACHER MODE] IS OVERRIDING HIS INSECURITY

[utterdrip]

idk when people talk about ascended astarion i feel like they dont mention how he reverts back to early game where he prioritized people based on their usefulness

this is 1000% backed up by ascended astarion encouraging his love interest to let araj experiment on their blood - if its powerful, its useful

[thevioletcaptain]

do fandom people realize that gleefully firing off mean little zingers at the socially accepted online target of the week for clicks is functionally identical to the way high school bullies use cruelty for clout, or do they lack that level of self awareness?

[scarysanctuary]

throughout the whole chaos, Tom was keeping his composure, he was trying to calm everyone else down, he had the appearance of someone that wasnt very shaken at all, so no one even thought to ask if he was okay, but Greg knew to ask, he always does. Seeing Tom break down when Greg asked if he was okay... i feel ill.

[buttercup-barf]

Everything is going to be okay. Even when it hurts, when it stings, when it sears, when you want to shut off every single sense and feeling, just for it all to stop. It's going to be okay, I promise.

[eerna]

*gently taps my hands on the table* okay let's do this one more time. "I will have you without armor" isn't Inej telling Kaz she will leave him if he doesn't solve his intimacy issues. it's her saying that he has been avoiding investing anything into their relationship for years and yet he still expects her to put her dreams on hold for him without ever trying to help her with the emotional labor of caring, and that she will not stand for it. she's not asking him to get over it, she is asking him to prove he wants to get better, hand in hand with her. we always forget Inej is also too traumatized for a typical romantic relationship huh