I Know That Avril Lavigne Was Replaced Theory Is A Joke But Like 

She’s got my vote. (via individual4815)

😂😂😂

Luke, Ashton, and Michael walk in all hot and stuff and then it pans over to Calum and I’m dying

Countdown to “Sounds Live Feels Live”     8: “Michael, what does she say?” +

The signs on a road trip

Aries: stretches out in the backseat no matter who’s back there. Everyone is a pillow to an Aries.

Taurus: fights over control of the radio

Gemini: ARE WE THERE YET

Cancer: IF YOU ASK ME THAT ONE MORE TIME I SWEAR TO GOD I’M TURNING THIS FUCKING CAR AROUND W A T C H M E

Leo: silently listens to music while throwing in the occasional jab at how bad someone smells in this cramped car

Virgo: insists they stop at every attraction they pass

Libra: sings along to the radio very loudly

Scorpio: threatens to throw someone out the window if they DON’T GET THEIR ELBOW OUT OF MY FUCKING FACE

Sagittarius: takes off shoes, ignoring the complaints of everyone around them

Capricorn: eats all the snacks

Aquarius: is fighting with Taurus for control of the radio

Pisces: the navigator who conveniently holds the map upside down 

REBLOG IF I CAN BE YOUR FRIEND.

& message you without being judged.

😂😂😂

Wow This Is Really Something

Brazilian illustrator and artist Lucas Levitan’s ‘Photo Invasions’ have been doing the rounds on Instagram lately: by adding his own illustration to photographers images, he creates an often-humorous take on the original work.

I work in advertising and I’m an illustrator as well but I never took illustration so seriously. I started this project by illustrating over my own pictures as a way to change the narrative. I shared it on Instagram and people started commenting asking for me to invade their own photography, and I thought ‘oh, that’s a project that I would love to keep doing! 

I call it Photo Invasion as a way to interact with other people’s images. It’s taken me somewhere I really like, creating this unexpected partnership with photographers.

artist find at archatlas

                                       :-)

Art is the only way to run away without leaving home - run with us !

I HAVE NEVER WATCHED SOMETHING THAT’S SO ACCURATE IN MY LIFE

This cover, only thing that takes me to sleep. There you go. Take it in, embrace it, breath in, dream with it…

Also creadits to this guy: click here

Reader is secretly married to Lando, and she starts using his sim, she misses him and she wants to feel closer and also really wants to learn (even if she is not ready to admit that she always had a thing for learning how it would feel to be in an actual f1 car). She creates a profile for herself for fun: Mrs Norris (which of course no one thinks it’s actually her). She becomes so good at it that she ends up beating the whole grid one time, and everyone is just wondering who the hell is this person…

👀👀👀👀

Very unrealistic, but well… 😂😂😂😂

Mrs Norris (Oneshot)

Lando Norris x Verstappen!Reader

Summary — It was only supposed to be a bit of fun, but really, what did she expect? Her surname might be Norris now, but she was born a Verstappen.

Notes — This was so fun!!!!!! Em, I will never not appreciate your cute ideas.

Lando had been gone for exactly twelve hours when she caved.

It wasn’t boredom—the Verstappen family didn’t do boredom. Her schedule was packed with gym sessions, influencer brunches, and brand events she had no real desire to attend.

But the apartment felt off without him. Too quiet. Too tidy.

And the sim rig—God, it just sat there. Smug. Taunting. Like it knew she’d eventually give in to its silent, high-tech seduction.

She told herself it was just curiosity. Racing was in her blood, even if she’d had zero interest as a kid. She used to stage silent protests just to get out of karting, sulking until her dad finally let her quit and focus on gymnastics instead.

Still, one harmless session wouldn’t hurt, right?

Just a few laps around Silverstone. Just something to do before bed.

Two hours later, she was red-faced, sweaty, and yelling at an AI Williams for brake-checking her into Turn 1.

She was terrible. Hilariously, painfully terrible.

But she was hooked.

—

By day three, she was watching tutorials, scribbling notes, and fine-tuning the seat and wheel setup like her life depended on it.

She texted Lando under the guise of checking in.

Hey handsome, you okay? Totally random, but what’s the best braking point for Eau Rouge?

He didn’t even question it—just sent a smug voice note with a full breakdown like she was a rookie on his team.

It made her want to destroy his time.

That night, she created a profile.

She debated using her real name, but that was a quick no. The username had to be anonymous… but also funny.

So she picked the most on-the-nose option possible.

@Mrs.Norris

It was meant to be a joke. A bit of fun. She never expected it to go anywhere.

She definitely didn’t expect to get good.

—

Two weeks in, she was holding her own in online lobbies. Four weeks in, she was winning. All of them.

Six weeks in, she entered a public charity sim race and beat George, Charles, and Alex.

The stream chat lost its collective mind.

Who TF is Mrs. Norris???

Actual alien pace.

Lando alt??

Plot twist: it’s Max Verstappen in disguise.

That last one made her laugh so hard she nearly fell out of the rig. The idea that they thought her brother was racing under her married name? Unhinged enough to make her cry.

Then came the text from Lando.

Lando:

Baby, are you using my sim under the username Mrs. Norris?

You:

Yep. And I beat them all.

Lando:

No. Shut up. You did not.

You:

Duh. I might be a Norris now, but I was born a Verstappen.

—

When he finally got home after the triple-header, he walked in to find her mid-race, cursing like a sailor, laser-focused, fire in her eyes.

He leaned against the doorway, arms crossed, smirking.

She crossed the finish line five seconds clear of second place.

Slowly, she removed the headset. Even slower, she turned to face him, cheeks flushed pink.

“Hi,” she said softly, suddenly shy.

He didn’t say anything.

Then he grinned.

“Mrs. Norris,” he drawled, walking over to kiss her forehead, “we are so screwed if this gets out.”

She smiled. “It won’t. They think I’m Max.”

He leaned in, voice low. “You beat my Silverstone time.”

“Your fault for sounding all smug about Eau Rouge.”

He kissed her properly then, holding her like he hadn’t seen her in months.

And neither of them mentioned the way his hands trembled slightly at the thought of her in a real F1 car.

Because if her dad ever found out?

He’d have her in one tomorrow.