#remember quietly!

[basicwildgal]

my genuine reaction when someone brings up "growing out of gyaru "

[fiveredlights]

i really hate in the end that he did go quietly. not the media coverage surrounding it, but on track. drove the last lap alone. no other cars in sight. last memories of him on track are him driving into a pitlane. no donuts. no celebration. quietly left the cockpit, the place he’s known for years and walked away. last driver out the paddock. and that was the end.

[3l91]

while they’re apart iwaizumi is definitely the type who tries to date other people to get over his life ruining long term crush on his childhood friend but ends up aggravating his dates by mentioning oikawa every five seconds without thinking

“oh yeah my friend likes to order that.”

“me and that idiot oikawa used to ride bikes every now and then.”

“oikawa actually recommended us this spot-“

etc etc etc even when he’s trying not to think about him

and when a date does go well afterwards he can’t help but think about how much fun it would’ve been to do whatever it was with oikawa

all of his dates clock his crush on his childhood friend and politely turn him down on a second date offer and he’s never beaten up over it and tries to ignore the reason why he isn’t upset in the slightest

and then he texts oikawa while lying on his stomach and kicking his feet .. and because oikawa isn’t in the room with him he’s able to crack a smile when he’s teased about fumbling another date

and both of them know that they’re quietly relieved the other hasn’t run into the love of their lives yet because they want to remain the closest person to one another for just a bit longer

[erisenyo]

"could you please come and get me?" I'm BEGGING🙏🙏🙏

For this prompt game! (And also this one!) (Andthis one too lol)

(Can be read as a follow-up to this)

“…and, like, everyone goes through phases!”

Hakoda hastily unfolds from his very undignified stretch at the muffled sound of Sokka’s voice, wincing at the protest of his sore back. Bato keeps saying he’s eventually going to value his posterior chain enough to stop taking red eyes no matter how cheap they are, and one day Hakoda is actually going to listen instead of making jokes about posteriors.

“—and sisters, you know? They never let go of anything no matter how old you all get, and they always take things too far—”

Hakoda glances again around the dim lit, tidy shop as if maybe the angle of the sunlight will have changed, vaguely pleased and surprised that Sokka is here so early as the faint jangle of the admittedly-huge keyring filters through the door.

It’s hours past when they usually open, of course, but judging by the timing of Sokka’s late-night-scarfing-down-dinner phone calls, he’s been working plenty past when they usually close.

“—not in a creepy way or anything, obviously. Just a joke. A bad one!”

Not that Hakoda was really worried. And he was right to now really worry! There’s nothing blown up, no scorch marks or tools missing because Sokka really needed a good shearing weapon for his robot-killing robot, no half-deconstructed engines and piling-up repairs because Sokka is sure he’s figured out a way to get more efficiency out of the whole system.

“—and that one is totally new, anyway. I had no idea it was even there! And so, um. High definition.”

Those this Audi sitting in the middle out of the shop, which is very out of place for Wolf Cove to begin with, let alone in Hakoda’s shop…

“And I mean, you know how sisters are!”

Hakoda does have some questions about that.

That Jesk kid better not be involved, or whatever his name was...

“Or—right?” Sokka’s voice is suddenly clear as he finally finds the right key to unlock the office door. “You—maybe? I mean—you—or—”

“Yeah,” a husky, raspy voice cuts in, faintly amused, and Hakoda pauses in surprise as he realizes Sokka isn’t on the phone. “I have a sister.”

Hakoda glances curiously through the office window as Sokka flicks the lights on, bright light illuminating the office and the break room and the car bays one by one, revealing his son—dressed for work, not starving, not injured, good—and the lean, black-on-black clad boy behind him, and Hakoda feels his eyebrow jump up in surprise.

Ah. He recognizes a pretentiously pre-worn designer leather jacket when he sees one. That would be where the car came from, then.

“And,” Sokka hurries on, darting nervously around the office as he wakes up the computer and sets down his coffee and Hakoda’s other eyebrow slides up to join the first. He can recognize Sokka’s cover-his-ass voice anywhere. “It’s not like I would recognize you out of context anyway without, you know. Or with, or—and so, like, it's not like I was being weird or anything, or like, trying to lock you in the basement or something, or—fuck.” Sokka scrubs his hands over his face before pasting on a bright, game smile and marching toward the car bays. “Yeah, I’m just going to stop talki—Dad!”  

“Sokka,” Hakoda greets him, giving the other boy—not a boy, Sokka hates being called a boy, he reminds himself—a curious look. “And…?”

“Oh,” the boy blinks, freezing a little. “Uh—”

“I didn’t realize you were coming back,” Sokka hops in, hurrying over. “Is everything okay?”

“Yeah, I just wanted to grab a few things from the house, see you and Katara a bit,” Hakoda assures him, reaching out to give Sokka’s shoulder a squeeze and offering a smile to the other boy as he trails Sokka after a moment across the shop floor. “Who’s this?”

“How’s Gran Gran?” Sokka asks as the boy hesitates, mouth half-open.

“She’s doing well, things are coming along,” Hakoda says, cocking his head to get a better look at the boy. He’s definitely familiar—not surprising, with those nearly-gold eyes and scar and the kind of cheekbones that Sokka loves to trip over—but Hakoda can’t quite place… “Are you one of Sokka’s college friends?” Shit, Hakoda should know those. He at least knows it isn’t…what was his name, Tamu? It’s definitely not him…

“Ah, no,” the boy says, shifting on his feet and flicking a quick look to Sokka. “Wh—"

“How long are you back for!” Sokka says over top of him, eyes wide with interest and that’s definitely his cover-his-ass voice again…

“Just a few days,” Hakoda says absently. Is it one of Sokka’s high school band buddies? They used to always be hanging around the basement and crowding into the kitchen. “I haven’t seen around town,” he says slowly, the sense that he knows this kid niggling at the edge of his thoughts.

“…No,” the kid agrees after a beat, equally slow.

“Yeah,” Sokka says quickly, voice coming out high. “He’s not from around here!”  

“This is your car?” Hakoda asks, because the kid might not look much like a trombone players but he does look like a speed demon.

“Uh, yeah,” the kid says, glancing at the sleek red lines where Sokka’s set the Audi out with pride of place dead center in the middle of the shop. “Sorry?”

“Sorry?” Hakoda blinks, momentarily distracted from the nagging familiarity of the kid.

“I broke down,” the kid shrugs, apologetic, and Hakoda can only give him a bemused look.

“It’s what we’re here for,” he says. And they’re certainly going to charge him for it, with a car like that—and Hakoda will be making sure he’s charged. He recognizes that look on Sokka’s face…

“Right!” Sokka says, overly bright. “Car repair!”

“A full-service operation,” the kid murmurs, cutting Sokka a sideways look.

“We strive to be,” Hakoda says proudly, giving Sokka his own curious look as his son chokes a little, blushing. Oh yeah. Hakoda is definitely making sure this kid gets charged.

“Car repairs!” Sokka says loudly, clearly powering through…whatever is going on. “We’ve had a lot of those! Want to—” he glances quickly around. “—the books! Want to see them? Or the—I can get you up to speed?” he suggests half-desperately. “On everything?”

Hakoda makes a vaguely affirming noise, listening with half an ear and mostly watching the kid who is in turn watching Sokka, looking faintly bemused by and more than a little curious about Sokka’s immediate, exhaustive, relieved, highly detailed account of the past month.

Maybe he’s a new teacher in one of Sokka’s art classes? He thought they were all old men by Sokka’s description, but this one seems like an artsy type. Though why he’d be here and not back in Republic City…

The kid gives Sokka another sidelong look through his lashes that really isn’t all that subtle to anyone other than Sokka, and ah, that could be a reason.

And he can tell Sokka likes his friend back from the fidgety, half-nervous, half-hyper way he’s shifting his weight and playing with his bracelets and rings and he better be fucking taking those off before work, Hakoda’s not trying to have anyone lose a damn body part inside an engine. At least the earrings are out…

Hakoda thinks, though, that he really would have heard of the kid if he’s following Sokka cross-country to keep him company. But then, maybe that’s why he has the persistent, nagging sense that he’s met or at least seen this kid befo—

“Oh!” Hakoda suddenly exclaims, snapping his fingers as realization hits. “I know you!”

“You—!” Sokka trips a little as the kid startles, giving Hakoda a half-surprised, half-cagey look. “You should really hear about theorderthatPakkutriedto—”

“You’re the boy from the poster over Sokka’s bed!” Hakoda says, triumphant and Sokka cuts off with a high, strangled noise, the kid opening his mouth and nothing coming out.

“The one where’s he’s all shirtless and oiled up?” Hakoda prompts when Sokka doesn’t say anything, pleased to have placed it. “Remember, you got that fancy photo editing program for it? So you could cut him out of the full shot and enlarge the size? And Bato took you to that special print shop in Whale Harbor to get it done out on the special poster paper?”

The kid slowly transfers his stare from Hakoda to Sokka, who is looking more and more like a deer trying to freeze to avoid the notice of an oncoming car.

“You know, for your eighteenth birthday?” Hakoda reminds him, concern fluttering in his chest when Sokka doesn’t immediately latch onto the topic like he always does. “Because you couldn’t find any magazines big enough to see from that far away?” He definitely isn't misremembering, he knows he isn't...right?

The kid slowly closes his mouth, eyebrow inching up higher and higher.

“And you’d filled up all your wall space, so you needed to move to other surfaces? And Katara said you weren’t allowed to put anything up in the shower?” No, he's definitely right. Hakoda had been quietly and intensely relieved by the shower edict enough to be sure.

“I,” Sokka finally says, mouth working, “I, uh.”

“Didn’t you recognize him?” Hakoda frowns, reaching out to feel Sokka’s forehead.

“Yeah, Sokka,” the kid—shit, Hakoda still doesn’t know his name though—says, pointed, “Didn’t you recognize me?”

“I…need to go now,” Sokka announces, suddenly fumbling in his pockets.

“What?” Hakoda blinks, confusion threading alongside his pleasure at finally placing the face.

“What?” the kid half-laughs, startled.

But Sokka just whips out his phone, already marching away, his face crimson and voice echoing off the high ceilings, “Katara? Yeah, I’m—yeah, I’m still in town. Yes, I know that you're on nights, I—yes, I—look, could you please come and get me?” A pause. “No, I—actually, yes. I need to go die now, please. Not here.”

Hakoda stares after Sokka as he finally shuts the office door behind him, bemused, scratching the back of his head and shifting his attention to the kid who looks like he doesn’t know whether to worry or laugh again.

“Well, I’m Hakoda,” he eventually offers, extending his hand and biting the bullet that it’s okay to not know this one’s name, they probably haven't actually met before, “I’m his father.”

“Zuko,” the kid says after a beat, accepting his handshake—strong grip, callouses, no eye contact but that’s okay considering he’s looking after Sokka. “I’m, uh. The guy from the ceiling?”

Hakoda huffs, half-amused and giving him another quick look—and then his hand a slightly harder squeeze. “Grown up a bit, have you?” A lot less oil, too. And a lot more clothes.

Same cheekbones, though.

“Uh—so has he? Since then?” Zuko hazards, glancing toward the office where Sokka is…screaming into a pillow, by the looks of it.

“One could say that," Hakoda says after a beat, thinking of Sokka’s last trip to Whale Harbor and the poster tube he’d come back with happily cradled in his arms. “But maybe not as much as you’d think.”

[rjshope]

I love I love I love myself I love I love I love myself I know I know I know myself Ya playa haters you should love yourself Brr

Happy birthday @raplinenthusiasts 💖

[catabasis]

“What's it about, the play?”

[avoteforme]

[howtodisappearcompletelyand]

20/10 stars little guy

[swan2swan]

Jurassic World: Camp Cretaceous

Running Gag: "What Are You Doing?"

[froglover7789]

hanleia wedding would probably be the first big huge televised event post empire days (or at least one of the first) and i think the sole reason leia decided to make it such a big stink is to piss han off. im willing to bet han had to convince her to marry him (NOT in a creepy way just in a han way ykyk) and her retaliation is making it larger than life insane guest list bigger than royal weddings of the past crazy nonsese. this idea is very funny bc i also like to think that no one tells han. he has No Idea why wedding prep is taking so long and he doesnt really care bc wow shawty really said yes thats so crazy. come wedding day he shows up and shits himself bc the entirety of coruscant and then some are in the pews and he is wearing the same outfit he wears everyday.

[ratatatastic]

"[My Dad, Brother and I] all got matching Stanley Cup tattoos on our quads!" "Let's see it! Let's see it! Stand up real quick! Let me see you!" "'Let's see it!' Look at that." "It's just a little guy! It's just a little guy!" "I love it!" "It's just a little guy, but yeah, no...Sam Bennett, Anthony Stolarz, Monty, and Steve Lorentz—we all got em like 2 days later. It was fun! We were all—you know, no sleep, straight into the tattoo estab—" "Oh sure! You woke up and you were like, 'Huh, I got something on—" "Oskar Sundqvist did the same thing, man!" "I like it! I'm a fan of it! I really like it! And the fact that we all have the same one is pretty cool!" "Let's see that hair real quick! What do you got going? Let's see what you got going—Oh, God! Andy!" "What?" "Geez, he's got that Swede in you!"

The Cam & Strick Podcast | 7.30.24 (x)

[schmweed]

[lloydfrontera]

my ideal terminal devotion dynamic is 'one fell first but the other fell harder'. i want damian to quietly pin after rakiel for years, never saying anything because he doesn't dare to ask or even hope for it and is content with just remaining at his side for the rest of eternity. and rakiel to be completely oblivious to everything until one day he looks at damian and realizes 'oh i need to crawl into his ribcage' and being a mess about it.

damian falling in love softly and gently, one kind gesture at a time. and rakiel not really falling as much as faceplanting all at once.

[pillsopa]

this Sargent work (death and victory) is part of Harvard’s art collection which depicts victory death and a soldier in one painting…which means it wouldn’t be crazy to say that Adam still carries the gangsey with him even after trc and while in college. is this something

[platoapproved]

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[imissthembutitwasntadisaster]

I say this as someone who stopped watching after Capaldi so I can't say anything about after that but the reason why I prefer the RTD seasons to the Moffat seasons btw is that Moffat is incapable of writing a main companion who wasn't special - everyone had to have something particular or unusual about them, Amy was the girl who waited for the Doctor, Rory was the closest we got to this but he was literally plastic, don't get me started on River Song, and Clara was the impossible girl from the start. I've seen people (beloved mutuals but I can't quite remember which ones so if you're reading this ily I'm not vagueposting on purpose) say that Moffat valued mundanity more than RTD but his companion backstories refute that. Whereas Rose, Martha (Martha especially my darling Martha she didn't get any magic or space science she was just so incredibly brave and clever and kind, Martha who was mistreated by the writers and yet still is this stunning representation of look this is what ordinary people can do! This is how good they can be!), Donna, they're extraordinary in their ordinariness, and that's really emphasised and I like it so much more. I prefer how Moffat handled the doctor himself (but to a large part that might be I prefer how 12 was handled overall), but in terms of companions the first four seasons were the best to me because they really dug into how companions aren't special, they're people like you.