Desperately telling myself that I’m writing my fics for myself so it doesn’t matter if no one reads them.

It’s not working because my brain is telling my why bother writing it down if it’s just for me, just imagine it, no need to write it down.

Took my crochet project with me to work though and write a few sentences instead of working on that crochet on the train, so I have that going for me…

You don't unsettle me, you know that. (x,x)

started thinking something along the lines of "aw, what's wrong with me that i feel bad for unsubscribing from company emails" but then i remembered sitting in on a marketing meeting during my internship and listening to them proudly talk about how they use like. behavioral psychology to figure out how best to manipulate people into using their services and i feel much less like there's something wrong with me now

Eddie is live-streaming as he walks through the house, complaining about writer’s block because, “ugh, I know what I want to say but -uhhhhg, words are hard, you -“

Eddie stops, takes a few steps back, and looks at something off screen. He then pans the camera around so you can see the confusion on his face and Steve laying on the floor in the living room.

Eddie: Hey babe…what’cha doin? Having some floor time?

Steve: Thinking about how utterly unlovable I am

Eddie immediately is in the living room, phone tossed to the side. From the way his phone landed propped up against the coffee table, you can still see Eddie drop down on top of Steve like, “You’re not unlovable.”

Steve: Really, ‘cause all your fans hate me and my own mother won’t talk to me, and Dustin’s being mean to me for no reason… and my hairdresser canceled on me this week.

Eddie hums along like he’s taking all this in and then picks up his phone like, “Sorry, guys. Gotta go. It’s Loving Steve O’Clock at Casa Munson.”

[opens fic] “moony has always been the smartest out of all of us” [closes fic]

In Part 2 of Masters of the Air, Crosby said he could make overthinking into a an Olympic sport and after reading his book I can confidently say that it’s 100% valid.

Here’s his recount of what happened during and after the mission to Trondheim, Norway in his book A Wing and a Prayer:

What did they do to a navigator who had screwed up as badly as I had? I never knew where I was. I had forgotten completely that I was to radio back a position report in code every fifteen minutes. I didn't give the groups enough warning before the I.P. If the Germans hadn't sent up the smoke screen we might have gone on to the Arctic Circle.

I had done everything wrong. I messed up the rendezvous. I should have given P.R.'s to radio and a strike message, which he was supposed to send in code back to HQ. None of that. I had left the briefed course. Because I didn't think I could navigate in Norway I took us to Scotland. Instead of being at altitude most of the time I brought us home on the deck.

What did they do for stuff like that? Court-martial? Ground me? That didn't sound so bad. Send me back to the States? Disgrace. As we headed home, I figured no headings. I computed no ETA's. I made no entries in my logbook. All I did was sit there, ooze sweat, stink, and feel sorry for myself. I grimly realized I was not airsick. I didn't use even one paper bag.

…

After we landed, I decided I could not endure the debriefing. I got out of the nose, dropped onto the ground. My frozen ankles hurt as I hit. Without speaking to the ground crew I walked off the concrete and into the woods. It was about a quarter mile to my quarters, but I made it, slinking along to avoid anyone talking to me. When an enlisted man offered me a ride in his jeep, I waved him off.

At the 418th site, no one was around. I went into our Nissen. Empty. I dropped onto my bed. The sweat. The smell of fear and shame. I could not bring myself to take off my fleece-lined flying clothes. I had forgotten to take the radio headset from around my neck. I remembered leaving my parachute in the plane. I should have turned it over to the rigger. What else?

Trouble.

I heard a jeep drive up, stop. A knock at the door.

The court-martial was beginning.

my mother was genuinely trying to make the argument that people do not fundamentally care about each other’s stories and only care in the ways they can relate their stories to their own experiences and therefore no one should ever try to make new plot lines or share their stories bc it’s all been told before and the only point to you sharing your story is for your own therapy bc no one actually cares and humans aren’t actually pack animals but lone wolves and we keep saying we want to change the world and we could so easily overthrow people in power but bc no one actually cares about each other we don’t do it and just give up. I have never been more certain in my whole life that I am right in saying she could not be more wrong. for the love of god please just share an orange with someone

drunk kaido is *chef's kiss*

what a reveal this late in the game that he's a way of the drunken master monk 🙏😩

my dad is so sad ab replacing his car 😭😭😭 he literally got a better one today but he’s just attached to the old one sobs

I'm not really a Wesley fan so I'm probably biased, but going from Fred and Gunn to Fred and Wesley was such a downgrade.

Well, rejection never gets easier no matter how many times it happens, does it?

I tried listening to Olivia Rodrigo and I'm sure this is really good for its target audience of Teen Girls Going Through A Breakup but has she actually ever put out a song that isn't about a guy cheating, breaking up with her and moving on to someone else?

like babe he's not coming back it's been 2 years you gotta find something else in your life

being unemployable and stupid and useless is soooooooo hard. sniff sniff whimper

Hoping after this semester I can at least get my shit together for the 3 weeks I have off for break lol

I just need to fall asleep, wake up, find out if I need ankle surgery, work from home, and then I can watch the new episodes. Easy

You ever just see a woman who is so fucking pretty and cool and the second you saw her the first time your heart literally skipped a beat and you panicked bc you’d never seen someone so fine but you know deep down that you’ll never have the courage to ask her out or even talk to her and you never had a shot anyway cuz she’s way out of your league and you just aren’t an interesting person and-