#it’s at 80+ work hours

[changbin-froggy-jimin]

Also I think I only mentioned briefly, but Wooyoung literally inspired me to start drawing again (read: he’s so handsome he won’t leave my head so this is my outlet lol)

Also it wouldn’t be my brand if I didn’t make a million different backgrounds lol

[rpgchoices]

Rook trying to learn about the companions' backstories and personalities like -

[imaredshirt]

Give me a Stan who thinks Fiddleford doesn't know how to throw a punch, much less defend himself in a fight with your average goon, so one morning he takes it upon himself to show the nerd a few basic jabs and hooks and maybe an uppercut or two behind the cabin, because let's face it, there's gonna be a time when Stan can't be there to take a hit for the guy or defend his nerd butt. So he's gonna teach him some stuff for his own peace of mind.

Fiddleford just kind of genially goes along with it, following Stan around the back of the cabin and watching with hands on his hips and a smile as Stan gets into position.

"This is one of the most basic punches in the world, so pay attention, 'cause I'm not gonna show you again," Stan says, knees slightly bent and fists up.

Fidds nods. "You've got my full attention, Stanley."

Stan isn't sure if he's imagining the way Fidds is eyeing him up and down, but he automatically flexes his arms a little more than he needs to. Up ahead, Ford is sitting on a tree stump and taking samples of the air or something (Stan had stopped listening to Ford's explanation once his words went from interesting to Big Science Shit that Stanley Does NOT Care About) and he's watching them with this amused grin, rolling his eyes skyward when Stan won't stop flexing and showing his arms off.

Stan ignores him and rolls his shoulders before jabbing his fists forward in a quick one-two. "There - you catch that?"

Fidds has got his arms crossed now and gives Stan a thumbs up. "Sure did!"

"See, just like this," Stan says, and shows him again despite saying earlier that he wouldn't.

He shows him a few more punches, going over each one a couple times before telling the engineer to mirror him, even getting in close to adjust the guy's scrawny arms and balled fists. He's being real professional about it and everything and doesn't understand why Ford keeps grinning and shaking his head at them, which is making him a little incensed but he stamps it down because Fidds is watching him with this nerdy, dopey smile while letting himself be maneuvered around and he's gotta learn to defend himself 'cause Stan can't stand the thought of some jerkwad wiping that smile off the nerd's face.

"See," he says near the end of the lesson, tapping his fist right against Fidds’s chin. "Do it right and your fist'll hit right here."

Fidds tilts his head a fraction at the touch. "Well alright then, seems easy enough."

"Yeah, like I said, if you do it right. Gimme your hand-" he takes Fidds’s wrist and taps the guy's balled fist against his own stubbly jaw. "Right here. You got that?"

Fidds nods. "Sure do!"

"Good." Stan drops Fidds’s wrist and gets into position again. "Then come on - lay one on me."

Fidds pulls back and blinks at him. "Come again?"

"Hit me!" Stan taps his jaw. "Right here!"

The guy suddenly looks nervous and galnces over at Ford for help. "Hit you? Stanley, I don't think-"

This is what Stan means. Fidds isn't always gonna be able to look to him or Ford to save him. He gets this weird, uncomfortable feeling in his chest at the thought of Fidds facing off against some asshat on his own, and that alone is enough to keep him from letting the guys off easy, if only to get rid of the weird feeling. Maybe a bit selfish but he doesn't care.

"Ah, come on, one little punch ain't gonna hurt ya, Fidds."

"I'm not worried about me," Fidds says, and then frowns when Stan barks a laugh.

"You think you're gonna hurt ME?"

Fidds is still frowning when Ford calls over in an amused, warning tone, "This is not a good idea, Stanely!"

"Just worry about your air test or whatever and leave us alone," Stan calls back. Ford shrugs and scribbles something in his journal, and when Stan turns back to Fidds, Fidds is finally getting into position.

He looks unsure, watching Stan nervously as Stan stands before him with his arms crossed.

"Hey, not bad form - you ready?"

"Well, I suppose so," Fidds says, accent coming in a little thicker than before. "Stan, if you're sure, I should probably warn ya-"

"Don't tell me nothing, just punch me!"

Fidds presses his lips into a line and throws his fist - and jabs Stan on the chin just hard enough to tilt Stan's head half an inch to the side.

"That's it?" Stan guffaws and shakes his head. "That was barely a tap!"

"I don't wanna hurt ya!" Fidds says, sounding so conflicted that Stan gets this urge to pull him into a headlock and ruffle his hair and drive the worry away.

Instead he riles him up.

"Please," he says. "Fidds, look - one of these days I'm not gonna be there to take a hit for you, and then what're you gonna do? Just let some jerk punch ya around?"

Fidds looks slightly perplexed. "Where is this all comin from? No, Stanley, I am NOT gonna just let some jerk punch me around."

"Good! So you gotta learn to defend yourself!" Fidds still looks unsure, so Stan tries a different angle. "Okay, how 'bout this - what if some jerks are beating up on me and Ford, huh? You're just gonna let em?"

Fidds looks up. "What? No, I am not!"

"You're gonna defend us?"

"Dangnabbit, Stan - of course I am!"

"Not gonna let us get our teeth kicked out?"

"What!? No!"

"Then show me!" Stan slaps a hand against his own chin. "Right here, come on! I'm some jerk who just threw your friend Stan to the ground and I'm about to kick him in the gut, what're ya gonna-"

The blow lands hard. Stan's head jerks to the side and he's thrown off balance, and he sees actual stars before his vision clears again and he realizes he's crumpled on the ground. His head swims as hands pull him around onto his back.

"Mother o pearl!" Fidds gasps. He's got his hands on Stan's face, careful touch at complete odds with the punch he'd just landed in the same place. "Are you alright? I am so sorry! I hit ya and you weren't even ready and - you just got me so riled up and I tried to tell ya and I shoulda said earlier instead o just lettin ya show me all those moves, but I just wanted to, well - goddangit, Ford, this ain't funny."

Ford's laughing as he comes up behind them, looking down at where Stan is staring kinda dazedly up at Fidds, who's kneeling by his side in the cool grass. "We did try to tell him, Fiddleford."

"Tell me what?" Stan demands. His jaw is already aching but Fidds’s hands feel kinda good so he doesn't tell him to move.

"Fiddleford was a boxing champion back back in his hometown," Ford says.

Stan blinks. "Bwuh-?"

"Not much of a champion," Fidds says with a wince, but he's blushing a bit as he goes on, "It was never anythin official, but - well, I did win more than a few matches at some backyard parties, see, and - well, people usually don't think I got any hittin power or can defend myself, but my Ma's been all too happy to teach me since I was little, and-"

The guy's rambling, and Stan quits being able to understand what he's saying half way through cause the accent is coming in thick and Ford’s chuckling and standing there looking proud of his best friend and Stan’s a little worried that he's still jarred from the hit, cause when he looks at Fidds kneeling there, one hand one Stan's chest and the other bashfully rubbing his neck while he rambles on - he's still seeing stars.

Later, while Stan sits in the living room with an bag of ice in his jaw and Fiddleford sitting next to him, still rambling about all the times he'd knocked a few guys into the mud in some backcountry hoedown get-together or whatever, Stan can lean back and relax and grin, knowing Fidds is gonna be just fine.

He can't wait to teach him wrestling.

[retroden-85]

Here is the “new order” seasonal look book for my MCSM au, Tainted Pasts.

(For the outfits context, the setting is a town in the Pacific Northwest of the USA. The year is 1987 - 1988)

[slavhew]

his problem now

[yellowtrinity]

hooked on fonics

[oozeandgoo-art]

Stubbornness.

[identifying-cellphones-in-posts]

Super slow day at work so I identified and labeled every recycled android we have in our parts bin.

Isn't it beautiful

[reblogglelog]

Sad Boy Hours: Billy Batson

He's trying so hard to get the screaming adults in the room to just stop screaming at each other and be reasonable.

He is immediately dismissed and storms off, justifiably insulted.

And Billy goes right back to blaming himself, trying to figure out where he went wrong, how he could have fixed things, managed the emotions of the room better--even though he is 100% correct and the adults are absolutely failing, and badly.

"Even if he's wrong...I should respect him." Honey, the thing that's eating at you is the absolute dogshit way they act and then expect you to just accept as normal. These grown-ass heroes should not be hitting each other.

And a degree, honey. Several of them.

He sounds like a teacher trying to get the class to behave and that script keeps failing him. Over and over the adults around him dismiss him for his optimism, ignore his calls for reason. And they're heroes. They're the good guys and they tear into each other regularly and viciously. And Billy is fifteen years old in a room of adults screaming at each other. The team is sometimes down right abusive, and this child is trying to keep them from falling apart.

I worry about him, ya know?

(anyway, thank you for coming to my Sad Boy Hours)

[cl-0v3r]

AMBESSA COVER YOUR BLADE. THE ANGLE IS REFLECTING LIGHT INTO HER EYES >:(

[binabadaboom]

every horror movie has me wondering how tf they could afford this absolute MANSION and the dad is the only one who works, and his “job” is like FUCKING FREELANCE WRITING.

not saying it isnt MAJOR work, but bitch it does not pay that well haha at least not for me.

where you mf finding these gigs?

[chipsncookies]

😢

[satans-knitwear]

Sleeby Sabine.

[asokatanos]

Wintertime is always difficult for parents of little kids, and arguably equally hard or harder for pediatricians who care for them. Over the past couple months I’ve been working weird shifts in the pediatric ER and night shift in the hospital.

So maybe it speaks to my level of bone deep exhaustion that I nearly wept when being treated not just with basic human decency but also the tiniest bit of respect during a shift. As part of understanding why a child is sick, I ask if they are up to date with their vaccines. Most of the time I get an eye roll and something to the effect of “yes, whatever the school says is mandatory. But we do NOT believe in the flu shot for our family” Which - okay, fine, so I can rest a little easier that your kid’s fever is probably not polio. They might have avoided that febrile seizure if they didn’t have the flu though! But the other night a mom said “yes, of course! We typically do what the doctor recommends because you’re the one who went to school for this!”

I’ll be honest, I was a little overcome. What does that say about the state of healthcare and trust for the people who dedicate their whole lives to caring for others?

Anyway, if you are <22 or have a child who is <22, unless there’s a serious illness you believe isn’t just a respiratory virus, please save yourself the five+ hour wait in the ER and stay home. For your sake especially but also for ours, we are beyond exhausted.

[zehrbear]

shinichiro sano is so crush coded

[ainawgsd]

I think it's time for some "quiet quitting"