#alan fucking carr in changing ends

[lunozapp]

ignore the soggy screenshot but this seemed fun so

may as well make this a tag game, u dont have to give an actual answer in reblogs if u dont want to lol: @sokacoke @r3ddusk @mossathenium-time @hybridcrows @gregyey @omittheanomalie @willoworyx

[meetmymouth]

when sunny met harry (2) : harry styles imagine

read part one here summary: harry and y/n break up but they’re not the only ones suffering. their -now her- golden retriever sunny thinks harry’s coming back.

Just like everyday, as soon as she turns the lock, Sunny comes running to the front door, nails ‘clicking’ on the wooden floor as he jumps up and down on the other side of the door. As soon as the door’s unlocked and opened fully, Sunny leaves no time for hellos or any other form of greeting before he’s on her. It’s Friday night which is why there’s a bag for life full to the brim with groceries next to her backpack and Sunny takes it upon himself to sniff around the packaged food as if he’s looking for food.

It’s also the night Harry’s finally coming to see Sunny.

A month has passed since the phone call and it was last week when Harry’s name appeared on her phone, messaging to see if he could visit Sunny soon. Truth be told, she wasn’t ready to see him just yet. She knew she could’ve said no, or told him she would let him know when it would be a good time to visit but one look at Sunny’s way, she had caved in. Or was the look for reassurance only? She had accepted it in a heartbeat because deep down, she knew Sunny wasn’t the only one missing him.

And now there she was, trying to ignore Sunny as he barked relentlessly at the hoover.

When she reaches the corner of the sofa, Sunny comes closer to her and barks directly at Hetty the Hoover as if he’s trying to set some ground rules.

“Sunny, no!” The hoover is now turned off and she tries moving Sunny away from poor Hetty.

“Leave her alone! Sunny, down. Come ‘ere!”

Sunny does come, and she sits his bum down at her feet and stares at Y/N as if she’s going to reward him for being a menace.

“Why are you such a dickhead, huh,” she gives a pat to his fluffy head. “Do you know who’s coming to see you? Wanna wear your nice collar?”

As the pets continue, she feels a sudden pang of sadness at the memory of seeing Harry for the last time in this flat.

She thought about the look on his face; his beautiful eyes all glassy and lips pouty. Dark circles under his eyes and a large box full of his own share of vinyls to accompany his reluctant posture. How alien and hesitant he had looked in the middle of their, now her, living room.

She tries remembering the last conversation they had, last proper conversation before everything happened but Sunny’s heavy panting interrupts her thoughts and she heaves a sigh.

“Do you...” she extends the word deliberately knowing it will hype him up. “...know who’s comin’ to see your squishy mug today?”

This does nothing to hype him up though. Sunny remains seated at her feet, tongue slightly out as he stares at Y/N’s face as if she’s talking nonsense. “Harry’s coming, Sunny.”

At the mention of Harry’s name, Sunny’s goes crazy. He starts jumping up and down -as much as he can with the limited space between him and the sofa- and his tail keeps wagging in sync with his hoarse barking.

Although she too feels giddy about having Harry in the flat again -though she has to repeat the reason why he’s visiting in the first place every five minutes-, she’s also worried that her next door neighbour Mr. Yoni will knock on her door with puckered lips and slit eyes. As soon as she opens the door, Mr. Yoni will sigh and Y/N will start apologising, trying to bribe him with a cuppa and Tesco’s bourbon biscuits she knows he likes.

As she writes and plays the scenario in her head, she also keeps tidying up the living room, fixing up the pillows, collecting empty mugs and some pens scattered around. When she starts doing the washing up, she hears Sunny chewing the bone Harry’s gotten him and can’t help but roll her eyes at how sentimental she’s being. Exes and a dog.

So what, she thinks, are we going to co parent a bloody dog now? Saying yes to him visiting was a weakness on her part. She knew it was. She’s also not expecting them to get back together just because Harry’s coming to see Sunny. No. She has to get her shit together.

Harry’s charming. Interesting. Lovable and endearing. From the first night she’s laid her eyes on him; in his stupid corduroy trousers and a fuzzy striped cardigan, she knew she couldn’t forget him after that night. She was totally mesmerised by him. By his face. Yes, he was handsome- he is handsome. But he was also beautiful. Pretty. He had soft features, delicate... but there was also a sharpness to him, could cut you with his affection as soon as your eyes met across the room. His love could kill you. He could’ve told you the earth was flat and you would think ‘well, this kid is onto something’. It was his charm and the general aura to him that held you back from questioning him and his actions.

When they first met, he had just gotten out of a relationship. She knew because they ran in the same circles. She knew of him. They’ve been to the same birthday parties and even one or two weddings. Despite that, they had never spoken to each other before that night. So when they shook hands at a close friend’s birthday party that night, his hand still damp from the beer bottle he was holding, she knew she had to get closer to him, she wanted to be the reason behind that dimple appearing and the crinkle by his eyes when he smiled, his two larger front teeth peeking between his parted lips.

Though, much to her dismay, they didn’t hit it off like it happened in the movies. Theirs was a civil introduction. Nice… friendly. She couldn’t say much and the conversation died quickly as he was swept away from her by his friends. She had later learned that he found her annoying at first. In his words, she looked like she was better than anyone in that room. In her defence, it was because she was mesmerised by him and well, she wasn’t exactly the social butterfly Harry seemed to be. They always laughed it off though, with drunken smiles and chuckles between wet, sloppy kisses. It took them six months of friendship until she had enough and asked him out. One day while sipping margaritas in her garden, she had had enough and called him out. ‘Bloody hell you’re stubborn as fuck’ she said, ‘you’ve been looking at my arse all day and I’m pretty sure you’ve been eyeing my lips since like last month. So either come kiss me or just… keep it in your pants’. And then there he was, making a move.

Seven months into their relationship, Sunny became a member of their- well mostly Y/N’s family. They were happy. Sometimes too happy that it kept her up at night, wondering if the universe was plotting something against them soon. Turns out it wasn’t. They were just Harry and Y/N. Too comfortable with each other. Too in love. Too happy. Until the bickering had begun. At first it was mostly because Y/N kept putting his clothes in the wash before they got ‘really dirty’. Or how Harry kept making a mess in the shower, never cleaning up after himself, leaving his hairy razor on the counter. And it didn’t help when he started spending most of his free time in Los Angeles while she worked in London. It wasn’t only his fault. She had also stopped making time for regular phone calls as he kept them no longer than ten minutes and it went from long, meaningful chats to Harry talking more about his friends and their adventures than himself. In return, Y/N more or less, and perhaps without realising, started cutting their conversations short and vague because ‘I think the chicken’s ready, I’ll ring later’ or ‘Sunny’s chewing my shoes again, gotta go’.

When he came back from LA, everything started going downhill as if they weren’t bad enough before. Y/N started feeling uneasy in his presence; feeling self-conscious, mostly when they ate, when he came to have a wee while she showered or when they had sex. It also didn’t help how they always had people around. They didn’t get much free time to themselves. It was always Harry and Y/N… and the others. So it was a gradual thing, the fall of their relationship. And when they officially ended things, he not only left her heart in pieces but also another, much tinier heart was more or less broken. Sunny’s.

She puts those thoughts away and focuses on the washing up in front of her, snorting at how she’s been rinsing the same mug since God knows when despite it looking squeaky clean. Taking off one of the gloves, she touches the screen of his phone and her eyes widen at the time. Harry would be here any minute and she didn’t even have the heart to change into something more comfortable.

She decides on a cup of tea and spots the opened package of cheese twists and perches on the sofa. TV’s on, filling the flat with Alan Carr’s distinct voice as Sunny comes up and places his head on Y/N’s leg, looking as precious as ever.

“God forbid I eat anything by myself. You silly boy,” She breaks one of the cheese sticks in half and throws it next to his paws. “There you go.” As soon as the stick hits the floor, it’s gone in seconds as Sunny tries to lick the remnants of the cheese stick off of his face and the wooden floor.

Two more cheese sticks later, she gets a text from Harry letting her know that he’s here, at the door.

As she makes her way towards the front door, Sunny follows behind. Her heart starts beating faster and she feels her cheeks heat up, having an epiphany that Harry’s here, on the other side of the door. Sunny barks once as her hand reaches the door handle as if he knows who’s here. As soon as the door opens, their eyes meet and it’s like someone’s pouring hot water down her head. Harry opens his mouth but he gets interrupted when Sunny spots him.

Y/N watches as the two go crazy for each other, Sunny jumping up and down, trying to get his paws on every part of Harry’s body as Harry tries crouching down to pet him.

“Dear God you’ve gotten huge! Sunny! Bloody hell- ouch- stop biting m’ankles!”

“Come inside, he’s inviting you in,” she mutters and immediately regrets that stupid remark. As if it’s Harry’s first time meeting Sunny.

He looks up again and gives her a smile. “Are you inviting me in?” He says, tone as playful as ever. He glances down at Sunny again before she catches his eyes.

“Come in before he has a heart attack trying to get all your attention.”

“Always been an attention seeker, am I right Sunny boy?”

After he takes his shoes off, they make their way inside, careful not to trip and fall since Sunny’s still trying to catch Harry by his ankles. She sits on the far end of the sofa as Harry crouches down to give Sunny a proper cuddle.

The dog looks like he’s having the time of his life as Harry scratches his head, massages behind his ears and gives him gentle pats on his furry bum and Y/N tries hard not to cringe at the dog hair swirling in the air. He looks mesmerised by Harry and Y/N can’t blame him. When Sunny sneaks in a couple of licks, they both laugh as Harry wipes the sticky saliva with the arm of his thick jumper.

“Alright, alright, chill.” He gets up despite Sunny’s whines and his attention is now on Y/N.

“Hi,” she can’t help but give him a little wave from the sofa.

“Alright?”

“Mhm. Want a cuppa?”

“Would kill for one actually,” he grins impishly and Y/N’s already on her feet, walking towards the kitchen.

When she glances back, Harry’s following and just like before, Sunny’s following close behind as if he’s being pulled by an invisible string. Clingy dog. She wonders if he’s feeling the things she’s too afraid to feel ever since Harry’s stepped into her flat.

They wait for the kettle in a slightly awkward silence as she takes the time to get used to his presence in her home again. It’s bittersweet, having him in the kitchen. Like when he used to wake up in the mornings and make a mess which he referrer as making breakfast. If it weren’t for the sound the kettle was making, she swears she could still hear the clatter of cutlery and Harry swearing loudly whenever he dropped something on the floor.

“Thanks for, you know, thanks for this.”

“Don’t worry about it, Harry. He’ll probably go ballistic as soon as you leave but I know you were missing him so… yeah.”

He gives her a sad smile and looks down at the dog who’s laying at his feet.

“Does he bark... always? Like, how bad does it get?”

“Well,” she puts the teabags in the mugs. “He sits in front of the door and barks non-stop as soon as I’m home. He usually tires himself out by the time I’m out of the shower but it’s been worse lately.”

As she pours the water, Harry glances at the fridge and a snort leaves her mouth at how reluctant he looks.

“Wha’?”

“I know you wanted to get the milk out. Just- don’t make this awkward. You can open the fridge without my permission.”

He gives her a pout and she has to turn her back to him and fiddle with the spoons for an unnecessary amount of time so that she doesn’t reach out and pinch his lips.

“I didn’t want to act like I own the place,” he mutters, milk in hand and Sunny all perked up at the sound of the fridge.

“Don’t worry about it. Honestly.”

The milk is back in the fridge, teabags stored back in the cupboard, kitchen light is turned off and they find themselves on the opposite sides of the sofa. Y/N sits cross legged on the spacious sofa while Harry’s looking oh so formal, one hand holding his tea and the other scratching Sunny’s fluffy neck who’s still not letting him out of his sight.

“You comfy there?”

Harry looks up, startled, and chuckles. “Erm, yeah. Why?”

“Dunno, you just look like you’re ready to run as soon as your tea’s finished.”

She knows she’s not subtle, judging his every move ever since he laid foot in the house. It’s not like she wants him to feel uncomfortable or guilty. It’s the opposite really; she doesn’t want to see him look so uncomfortable and on edge. It’s selfish really because it’s only been months after their breakup. Of course they both felt uncomfortable and awkward. And when he looks like his one foot is out of the door, Y/N feels horrible. She feels like it’s her own fault that he’s not feeling welcome.

“I just- I don’t know the limits? Like…” he places his tea on a coaster and clears his throat. “Like how comfortable should I get? Or- should we get? Am I allowed to sit all relaxed on the sofa…”

“Look, I get it. I’m sorry. I’m acting like a kid,” she takes a sip from her tea.

“Maybe- maybe I shouldn’t have suggested it this soon?” Harry more or less whispers, as if he’s walking on thin ice and he is. They both know it.

And well. Is he wrong? Were they stupid? Was she stupid, having his ex over for the sake of a bloody dog? Who was she kidding? She selfishly wanted to be in his presence again and she used both Harry and Sunny.

The awkward silence now increases as she tries to find something to say.

She wishes she was Sunny. Not because he’s still at Harry’s feet, head laid upon his socked feet but because he’s probably clueless to what’s been going on.

“Y/N?”

When she looks up, Harry’s still looking at her. His eyes are full of concern and she hates how familiar it looks.

“Yeah?”

“I’m really sorry. I don’t feel unwelcome at all. I know that’s what you’re thinking,” he gives her a tiny smile and her eyes fall to his dimple.

“You’re right though. I think we both acted without thinking. I mean, it’s kind of my fault anyway. Calling you like that-”

“No-”

She shakes her head feverishly. “Yes. Ringing my ex as if Sunny’s a baby and he won’t fall asleep until his daddy wishes him good night.”

It’s dead silent until a snort comes out of Harry’s mouth and Y/N raises her eyebrows.

“Well he kinda is a baby, in’ he?” He reaches and pats Sunny in the head, making him perk up at the attention being given to him again. “And I am the daddy so…”

When he looks up though, Y/N’s watching him with an unimpressed look on her face.

“Too soon?”

“Not surprised at your inability to read the mood. Always cheeky. You done seducing that tea?”

When she stands up, Sunny does too. He knows she’s making her way to the kitchen with her tea in hand so he would normally follow close behind, thinking she’s going to fetch him more snacks.

He laughs at that though. He does because they get each other’s weird sense of humour.

“Nah I’m trying to see if I can finish it.”

“I won’t even take offence at that. I know I make a mean cuppa so, suit yourself.”

She tries passing him but he stops her.

“Come on, please sit down. I won’t get mad if you do the washing up after I leave,” he gives her a smile and surprisingly, it’s enough to make her sit down.

He waits for her to speak but it never comes. They sit in silence while Harry pets Sunny aimlessly.

“Can we- can I continue what I was saying before?”

“What? About you being a daddy?”

He snorts at that, the same hand that was petting Sunny now coming up to his head, fingers running through his hair so effortlessly. She watches as the hairs glide smoothly between his long, ring cladded fingers.

“No,” he rolls his eyes but a there’s a hint of smile there somewhere.

When their eyes meet, she smiles at him, properly smiles at him for the first time that night. When he returns it with his own dimpled smile, she almost forgets. She forgets why he came and for a second, it feels like they’re back in time. Back to when they spent most of their nights in front of the TV. Sunny curled up and snoring by the sofa while Y/N played with Harry’s hair, their legs tangled and his back against her chest. It takes her a minute to understand why Harry looks so confused.

“Sorry, I’m just really tired,” she murmurs.

“’s okay. I’m kinda glad you didn’t hear what I so bravely confessed there,” he chuckles at the ground and the sound makes Sunny lay his head against his legs, asking for more pets.

Despite his vagueness, she smiles at his boyish charm. “What was it?”

“Nah, not tellin’ you now,” he smirks, never once looking up from his petting session with Sunny.

A sigh leaves her mouth and that’s when he looks her way.

Were they flirting? Could exes flirt? Should they flirt?

And wait, did he get a new ring?

“Was it about my poor taste in cushions again?” She smirks, trying to sound as nonchalant as she can.

“Well-”

He tries getting comfortable on the sofa, leaning back and crossing his legs but Sunny starts barking as if to complain about Harry’s divided attention. He reaches down and gives him a pet but never once takes his eyes off of her.

It’s quiet after that. None of them speak. They lose the eye contact as soon as Sunny abruptly gets up from his laying position and walks to his water bowl, both of them watching him leave.

“He’ll bite my ear off as soon as you leave tonight,” Y/N mumbles, trying to pass it off as a joke but Harry doesn’t smile.

Instead, he sighs and scratches his knee. “I actually saw Sunny the week you called me… your brother was walking him near Gemma’s house and- well, yeah.”

At the news, she feels an anger bubble up inside her. Not towards Harry -maybe a little- but towards her brother. Since her brother’s not here, she’s going to take it out on Harry.

“Why didn’t you tell me when I rang? You- I, oh God. I’m such a fucking idiot. You came here out of pity and not because you missed Sunny, right?” She keeps going as if someone’s been timing her. “You probably laughed after right? At how pathetic I was? You should’ve told me!”

“Well, I didn’t! It’s not a big deal-” he tries again but she cuts him off and he’s slightly taken back by her widened eyes.

“Not a big deal? You came here because you pitied me! Well fuck, I know it’s pitiful but you shouldn’t-”

“I wasn’t missing the bloody dog, I only saw him that week! I used him to see you!”

She freezes, trying to process his words but as always, Sunny steals the show.

This time, he’s choking on his water.

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💌 SHARE YOUR THOUGHTS 📝 MASTERLIST

[fairylightsstyles]

Harrie tag

I was tagged by @haarrrrry to answer the 10 harrie questions. Thank you so much this was fun!!!

I’m tagging: @heart-attack-harry, @harrys-smiling-nipples, @revolutionaryharry, @trulymadlysydney @thisoneforthemcurls, @oneofhistattoos, @habibharry, and @permanentcross. Sorry if you’ve already done this and you don’t have to do this! 

rules: you must answer the questions till the end and then tag another 10 harrie blogs to do the same! you can use videos/links/gifs/photos to answer the questions.

Favourite Look: I have waaaaaay too many but these are just two of my favs #fashionfuckingicon

Favourite tweet: 

Favourite interview: Any of James Corden’s ones for sure or Alan Carrs ones

Favourite stage moment: Well when I went to my concert, harry was telling everyone to kiss eachother and no one was so he yelled “WHY IS NO ONE KISSING EACHOTHER” i cried and he also quoted friends, I then died. Also when he told everyone not to go to Seaworld,I’ve been a real big protester against seaworld for a long time and when this happened it was the proudest moment of my life. Annnnd when he had the poutine rant, as a Canadian I felt incredibly happy and proud to know he loves poutine just has much as I do. 

Favourite hair style: Listen, I have the biggest crush on Mick Jagger and this is all I see when I look at this and it is unfair we did not get to see an era of this hair style. 

also these amazing hair times:

Favourite Family member: Without a doubt, Gemma. If I wasn’t a fan of Harry in the beginning Gemma would’ve been high on my radar. She’s someone I really look up too and she inspires me so much. I’m glad we have someone like her in the fandom for people to look up too. 

Favourite 1D Bromance: NARRRY. there is not enough narry fics out there and it is really disappointing.

Favourite Celebritity + Harry: Its between Ed, Nick and James. I love all three individually for a lot of different reasons and with Harry they’re even better.

Favourite tattoo: Definitely the ship or the hands shaking and the leaves on his v-line. I want to just trace them all day long.

Favourite quote: Me too harry, Me too 

 Favourite instagram post: THIS

Favourite music video: Night changes/Steal my girl

Favourite Another Man Pic: Cant decide between these two 

Your name: Taylor

Age: 14 (i turn 15 in a month and three days could you believe??)

where you live: Ontario, Canada

Have you ever seen harry live in concerts or met him: I saw him in 2015 AND I REALLY DON”T MEAN TO BRAG BUT LOUIS AND HIM WAVED AT ME AND I DON”T KNOW HOW I DID NOT CRY IM SORRY

What’s your favourite thing about harry: Just his whole personality, I wish I knew harry as he was growing up. There’s just something about him. Also his fashion sense, absolutely amazing. every male should attempt it. 

What is your favorite line/lyric of Harry’s on a 1D album: All his lines in If I Could Fly and 18, also Olivia and Stockholm syndrome 

What is a song that remind you most of harry: I’m not really sure about this one. 

What is a movie that reminds you most of harry: honestly blackfish, everytime i watch it i think of harry telling people not to go to Seaworld and i cry everytime

For how long have you been a harrie: Probably since 2012

Where you were when the Dunkirk trailer came out: at home i think, i can’t remember

What do expect of HS1: absolute greatness, I will probably combust

what are your tags for harry on tumblr: Babes, fashion fucking icon, a few randoms ones i think of on the spot sometimes lol.

Who is your favourtie harry blog: there is way too many, I couldn’t choose. Love a ton of blogs

[allmymisters]

For the Love of Notes

I know you have Science class in here and I hope it’s ok to write you, but I think you’re really cute. Mr. Carr is in a good mood today, I think he might have had a date with Mrs. Cart this weekend. Ha ha! Hope to see you in the hallway again. I also just realized we went to pre-school together and I have a picture of you. If you write me back just leave it here for me.

Bye.

I remember writing a note to Alan Cormen in 7th grade. I left the note for him in my science lab drawer because I knew he sat at the same table. He wasn’t interested. Most the boys I had crushes on back then weren’t interested. When I moved to Richmond, I had the biggest crush of my life that lasted from eight grade through high school. I also wrote him a note commenting on his beauty and skateboarding skills. That also was a failed attempt at written confessions of love.

From 8th grade until the end of high school, notes were the highlights of my day. I never knew when I was going to get one or who it would be from. My girlfriends mostly exchanged with me all day and it was easy to scribe the bubble letters of yore while in Ms. Pilkington’s English class. I would occasionally get notes from my guy friends as well, usually with Misfits, Metallica, Iron Maiden, or skateboarding graffiti adorning them. I cannot forget the actual folding of the notes, you had to do the one with the “tab” that you would pull out to open it and people actually wrote the word “PULL” on it. Sometimes they would get elaborate and show up as triangles or origami. Notes would get passed in the hallway between periods, they were in my locker when I changed books, and sometimes you’d find them mysteriously in your notebook. I remember Freshmen year, sitting in Mr. Wilt’s World Studies class and exchanging notes with Meredith Snellings consisting only of lyrics from The Smiths, and I remember the notes I’d get from my friend Sara who had beautiful penmanship and always wrote incredibly concise and intellectual letters on music or a guy or the punk rock show we went to the past weekend. It was also where you penned your scandalous gossip:

What were Lindsey and MaryBeth doing at the show?! Those girls are such harlots trying to get with the guys in our scene. Oh and did you know that Nicki Owen is pregnant! I guess she won’t be on the cheerleading squad for much longer. I saw her crying in the bathroom. See you at lunch!

Yes we used the word “harlots” because it sounded better than “slut”. We also had NOTEbooks which were passed around between a group of friends. Each period a different girl would write and then pass it on the next. The first time a boy said he loved me was on a note, claiming I was the raddest girl at school. Swoon. Then he wrote me a letter two weeks later breaking up with me and then I wrote a letter to him telling him to fuck off. Notes were such a huge part of how we communicated back then and it was exciting if you got a note handed to you. Notes were the way to confess untold secrets, to profess love, and to tell your best friend she was being an asshole at lunch trying to be too cool. You’d discuss the new CD you bought over the weekend, write poetry, or plan out secret parties. It would come on loose leaf, colored or sometimes sketch book paper, but always with doodles or lots of hearts and signed with a LYLAS (Love ya like a sis) or Later Sk8ter or a See Ya . It was special because you knew they were taking time out of their day to put pen to paper.

So now, we have email, text, and video chatting, and to be honest when email came out I treated it with as much enthusiasm as I did getting notes. In the beginning, I’d light up with joy looking at my inbox. The emails I receive currently consist of telling me what to do, what to buy, how to buy it, what bills to pay, when to go to things, where to get the best deal, and so forth. I haven’t received a proper personal email in almost…6 years. Sure, I’ve received “Likes”, Emojis, texts pages long, but none of that written communication excites me, it’s just become commonplace and sometimes the only time you receive anything worth reading is to tell you that you’re being a certain way. It’s become a place where people can abbreviate feelings and sentiments, a text can have some pretty involved meaning, but something about it lingering there and the urge to have to answer it right away takes away from the significance, to me. Not even through Facebook Messenger do I receive a lot of correspondence. It’s all very direct and with serious need. It’s the place you contact people you don’t have email addresses for. I still find it oddly strange to announce the death and births and marriages online. There’s something impersonal about it, it lacks the tangibility of the sentiments. And yes, Facebook has replaced the folded papers of youth, but what are people actually saying on your wall? “HBD”? “I saw that!” “I was at that show!” Pruned and lackluster remarks.

When I lived in New York, each restaurant I dined in had postcards. I loved that. I used to sit and eat and actually write out a postcard to people and send it on the way home. I think we all still feel something when we get home and there is a card or a letter for us in the mail. The feel of it alone to tear open an envelope handwritten and addressed to you. When I was internet dating, I made it part of my criteria for them to have to correspond with me in some pen to parchment form. Seems odd to some, but I found it entertaining, the notes I’d get or the photo of notes I’d get if they were remote. The ones who actually carried it out were the ones I gave my time to, you can only get so many horrid dick pics in a day. I’d get post it notes:

Here lies my favorite thing to eat at lunch. Doesn’t it look delicious?

Then there was an arrow drawn to the sandwich.

I’d leave notes like this on my way out of Mister’s apartment and he told me he loved waking up to them, but he would rather wake up to me instead, (insert gagging here). Sweet right?

Thank you so much for the wonderful evening. Coffee is ready and I hope to see you later.

My ex husband and I were legendary for the notes he would leave each other, especially like when he would leave early for a tour:

I’m going to miss you so much baby. Have a great day! I love you!

or when I used to come by his apartment when we were dating and he wasn’t there:

Hi! I came by to say hello and see if you wanted to get something to eat. I listened to that Miles Davis CD you leant me and it was good! I’ll be around later if you want to hang.

to after 5 years of marriage, me leaving these types of notes:

Can you please take out the fucking trash and put the dishes away!

I think the art of letter writing has gone out with the art of conversation. I’m a sentimental fool, I have letters from decades ago that I keep in a box because one day I had hoped to share it with my kids and grandkids as a kind of historical recollection of the person I was or written proof of words of love that were volleyed back and forth between misters. To me, there is still something magical about receiving a letter. It’s the same feeling you get when you open a book, you know?

I decided that this year I would get back into letter writing or at least postcard writing. I was in Stella’s for lunch the other day and they had one in the checkbook, so I wrote a note to a friend of mine in Richmond. Seems silly, but I know when he got it he was thrilled.

Hi there! I’m sitting at Stella’s and was thinking about that place we used to go to in New York when you came to visit. OMG, I miss that place. This red wine I’m drinking right now is freakin’ delicious. How are you? We haven’t seen each other in ages, we should hang sometime soon. I hope all is well and I just wanted to send a hello and how are you. Tell Jamie hello for me!

Ciao, J

Who knows, maybe it will be reciprocated and I will come home to something other than what I owe someone or 20% off at Bed, Bath & Beyond. Mr. Spectacular started collecting nice pens and inks when we stopped seeing each other, I will bet anything he’s never written one love letter with them. Sometimes it’s nice looking at the pen strokes and not having the immediate urge to reply back, but when you do, it will take time and effort. We have gone back to collecting records, making cassette tapes, and going to barber shops, so why not delve into the lost art of writing. You remember that thing you do with a pen, right? If you want to really mess with someone, write one in cursive and send it to a millenial. They will think it’s some coded instruction. But, seriously, how much would you make someone’s day by simply sending a postcard. Have fun!

[tessatechaitea]

Justice League of America #7

Terrorstrike is a near perfect name for a guy whose super power is teleporting into anal.

I don't get it. Why doesn't Killer Frost just get into a lesbian relationship with Fire? Problem fucking solved!

Three pages in and so far Terrorstrike's penis has not teleported itself into anybody's anal cavity. I bet this cover was one of those lying covers that never show the actual truth of the story! Terrorstrike does arrive but not by anal teleportation (I fucking knew it was too good to be true!). Instead he just walks up to the entrance of the Unnatural History Museum, explains that he wants to see the Jackalope, exposes the cat on his shoulder hidden beneath his hoodie, and murders the guards. No wait! He refrains from murder because he needs to explain his origin story and then his motive for being in this comic book. The guards area all, "Um, hey, dude? Could you back off? Nobody cares about aliens ejaculating into your central nervous system as much as you think they should. It's probably why your wife and son can't stand you." If I were one of the guards, I'd probably just let him see the jackalope. But then I'm a terrible employee who never feels loyalty to my employer simply because they're paying me to expend precious moments of my finite life doing things they want me to do. The cover lied in another way: this guy's name is Terrorsmith. That's worse than Terrorstrike! No wonder nobody notices or respects him! You don't stick the most boring last name in the English language onto a fear invoking concept if you want to demand respect. Terrorstrike could work. Terrorsmith just means a lot of people are going to respond, "Nice to meet you, Mr. Smith. But I'm kind of busy here." I suppose if Bloodlines had been more interesting, I would remember more about Terrorsmith. I think I do have his appearance in Showcase '94 but I probably haven't read it since, um, you know...1994. Terrorsmith turns the guards into monsters. Get it? He creates terrors! Although can you really call two monsters attacking a museum terrors? It's not like they have brown skin and yelled "Allahu akbar!" That was another joke for my conservative readers! Of course, the real joke is that conservatives and the media seems to only think that terrorism is terrorism if the attackers are Muslim. If terrorism is committed by a black guy, it's gang violence. If it's a white guy, it's mental illness or loner who has no fucking connection with other white guys just because he's white and stop being ridiculous because guns are good and shut up. See how jokes work, Internet Scolds? It might seem like I'm saying, "Hey! Muslims are terrorists who are worse than Terrorsmith's monsters!" But what I'm actually saying is, "Hey! Why the fuck do people continue to only use the term 'terrorism' when Muslim attackers are involved? Seems like an agenda there, no?"

I love when people use vulgar in the way most people don't read the word vulgar. Also I love Lobo.

Lobo is busy beating up another alien in a casino somewhere while Black Canary shrugs and sighs and looks askance at the camera as the end credits roll. Terrorsmith has a whole cadre of monster cats that follow him around. Did I use cadre correctly? Sometimes I wish I had an editor because Googling takes too long. It's easier to just ignore an editor when they say, "You can't say so many offensive things!" But they also know all the words I don't know. So sometimes they're useful. During the battle with Terrorsmith's monsters, The Atom crashes into an Unnatural History display of Dr. Sivana's fossilized time pills. Oh, that's convenient! I mean, I don't know how it's convenient but I'm pretty sure it will wind up being convenient. I wish he'd crashed into the display just to the right where they keep Dr. Sivana's time suppositories. Killer Frost moves in to stop Terrorsmith alone. That's because he can't turn her into a monster since she already thinks of herself as a monster. That's like that time that woman touched me and tried to turn me into a God and I didn't change because I'm an atheist and apparently we all believe we're God. Or something. I don't really understand Christians who think they're smart instead of dull say that. How does not believing in gods suddenly turn into believing that I'm my own god? I just said I don't believe in God but I do believe in myself! If I thought I was my own God, that would be a paradox, dum-dum! If the idea that atheists think they're their own God comes down to the fact that they believe they're in control of their lives and their decisions then Christians think they're their own God as well. They make decisions all the time whether or not they point to the sky and wink sexily at God for the help. They especially make their own decisions when they decide that there are certain ideas in The Bible or aspects of church dogma that they can live without acknowledging. Anyway, I only like to associate with people who can determine right from wrong without somebody else having to explain it to them. I'm fairly certain a good percentage of religious people who believe the only way somebody can know right from wrong is through religion are sociopaths. Because I've never been taught religion but I was raised in a house constantly full of cats and learned a good deal about love and empathy which stand in as pretty good markers for determining whether an action is right or wrong. Sure some actions are ambiguous. And some are judgment neutral, like masturbation. If you don't think masturbation is a right/wrong neutral action, you've probably been told how to feel about it. How can you tell if making and eating a sandwich is right or wrong? I guess it depends on what's in the sandwich and what religion's list of acceptable food products you go by. It's so much easier being an atheist! Nobody ever tells me my peanut butter and semen sandwich will send me to Hell. No wait. Everybody does. That was a poor example. The Atom never gets to use his time pills because Frost's plan of threatening Terrorsmith with an agonizing death works to get him to change the guards back. Killer Frost is all, "Terrorsmith couldn't hurt me because I already see myself as a monster!" And The Atom is all, "But my penis doesn't think that! I mean my brain! I'm not trying to save you simply because I want to have sex with you! I mean, I want to have sex with you, I do! But I don't want my dick to freeze off when we do it. So I sort of have to save you! But I'd also want to save you if you were a man too! But then I wouldn't want to have sex with you! So you can see how I probably should have shut up and never opened my mouth at all and just went about trying to help you because you're my friend. I mean, we can be more than friends if you want, of course. You know? To do the sex!"

Don't worry, Frost. He's a guy. He's totally interested. I mean, he'd wrap a jellyfish around his dick if somebody said it felt as good as fucking.

Terrorsmith winds up in Belle Reve where maybe — just maybe! — he'll become fodder for the Suicide Squad. I know they generally don't like working with villains who aren't super popular these days. But at some point, they're going to need to kill somebody or the name is going to lose all meaning (if it hasn't fucking already). There's probably a generation of youths who can't figure out why the fuck the comic is called Suicide Squad. Youth: "So they, like, all want to die or something?" Elder: "No, no! It's just the missions are so dangerous that it's practically suicide to go on them!" Youth: "Wait. The missions are dangerous? Since when?!" Elder: "Well, I mean, that's the premise." Youth: "You're shitting me, right?" Elder: "Don't swear. And stop smoking in front of me. And stop having sex outside of marriage!" Youth: "Well why don't you stop being racist and homophobic?!" Elder: "Touché, young one! Touché! You have taught me this day!" This issue did not have enough Lobo for my $2.99.