#brake pipe is my favorite part

[cerenemuxse]

Scrapbook technique, my beloved

Used colored pencils, chalk pastels, metallic pens (closeups show them better), and acrylic paint

I used regular printer paper and paper lunch bags for the scraps and painted them using acrylics.

Closeups below :D

[fluentmoviequoter]

Hey could you do fluff fic for David 'Deacon' Kay x wife reader where they spend their day together after hectic week? She's school teacher. Tag me later. Thanks!!

Of course! This was a fun one; thanks for the great request!! Hope you enjoy and let me know what you think!🤍 @pear-1206

Hectic Relief

Warnings: reader is an elementary teacher (I didn't specify which grade, just implied younger kids), hectic week, lots of fluffy comfort, kissing.

Word Count: 2.2k+ words

Masterlist Directory | Deacon Masterlist | Request Info/Fandom List

Picture from Pinterest (it goes with the end [and makes me smile😊])

“Yes, Drew?” you ask, smiling at the young boy as he lowers his hand.

“When is Sergeant Kay visiting again?” he inquires.

“Hmm… Well, he’s really busy this week, but I’ll ask him to come back soon.”

Drew nods with a bright smile. He loves your husband, Deacon, and asks about him often. Since Deacon came in for career day, Drew and several other students have become big fans of his.

“Can he come Friday?” Drew continues.

“Why Friday?”

“It’s my birthday!”

“Oh, I see. I’ll ask him, but remember what Sergeant Kay said last time? He’s really busy at work, so he may not be able to.”

“Can’t you make him?” someone else asks. “My mom makes my dad do stuff all the time.”

You chuckle at the implication that wives have control over their husbands before gesturing for everyone to pipe down.

“I’ll see what I can do, Drew,” you promise. “But either way, I’ll make sure you have a good birthday at school.”

Drew nods, and you think the day will be easier with the idea of Deacon coming in soon. It only takes an hour for that hope to be crushed, as the week takes a turn for the worse.

✯✯✯✯✯

Deacon sighs. It’s only Tuesday morning, and his week is already feeling long. He hasn’t seen you since Sunday night. Yesterday, a call ran long, and you were asleep before he came in. You moved closer to him in your sleep, but he had to leave before you woke up.

“Everyone ready for another night of overtime?” Rocker cheers before pretending to cry.

“I vote we just let the criminals take each other out this time,” someone mumbles.

“If my wife wasn’t working in this city, I’d agree,” Deacon says, surprising everyone.

✯✯✯✯✯

During your free hour, while your class is with another teacher, you drop your head to your desk and take a deep breath. The kids are restless, you’re tired, and each day this week seems longer than the last. You send Deacon a quick text to let him know you’re thinking of him and love him before turning your attention to the stack of papers on your desk.

Across town, Deacon is sitting in Black Betty, wondering when he’ll hear your voice again. It feels like the longest week of his life, and each passing minute makes him miss you more. His phone buzzes, and he smiles for the first time in hours as he reads your short message. Luca slams on the brakes and yells for backup before Deacon can answer, but he knows you understand. Even if it’s unfair to you and hard on him.

✯✯✯✯✯

By Friday morning, you feel part zombie, part teacher. The small gift you got for Drew and the card you signed from you and Deacon are sitting by your bag. You hope it’s enough to cheer Drew up even without Deacon stopping by to see his favorite of your students.

“Happy birthday, Drew,” you tell him when he enters the classroom. “This is from me and Sergeant Kay. He said to wish you a happy birthday and that he’ll come visit as soon as he can.”

It’s a lie; you haven’t even talked to Deacon in days, but you know he would be here if he could. He loves the kids and would do anything to help you out.

Drew’s smile falls just enough that you notice. He thanks you, anyway, even though he’s clearly disappointed his favorite SWAT sergeant won’t be dropping by today.

“Alright, class. Who’s ready for Fun Friday?” you ask, smiling as you pray for a nice day.

✯✯✯✯✯

Deacon clenches his jaw as he slams back against a brick wall.

“30-David, shots fired on the 4 side,” he radios.

“Copy. Shooter on the 1 side,” Street replies.

“We’re going to be here for a while, aren’t we?” Deacon asks.

Hondo nods beside him, and Deacon prepares for another day of missing you.

✯✯✯✯✯

“Drew, buddy, I know it’s your birthday, but we need to finish this lesson before recess. Let’s sit down and focus, then we can play,” you say, struggling to stay calm.

Drew huffs and falls back in his seat. When you see tears gathering in his eyes, you feel like you’re right behind him. It’s only 9 a.m., and it is the perfect, overly hectic, and stressful end to the longest week of your career as a teacher.

“I promise we’ll do something fun this afternoon, but it’s still school.”

✯✯✯✯✯

Deacon answers the phone, suppressing a stressed yell when Hicks tells 20-David to meet 50-squad on the other side of the county to aid with a hostage situation. He leans his head against Black Betty, wondering if they’d really notice if he took the rest of the day off.

Pulling his phone from his pocket, he sends you a quick text, surprised when you answer almost immediately. He doesn’t know if he’ll be home tonight, and his heart breaks at your disappointed reply, even though you try to cover it as a caring and understanding message.

Deacon knows that being a cop’s wife is just as hard as being a cop, and he wants to find a way to make it easier on you.

“Guys, I need a favor,” he calls as he puts his phone away. “I need to be home for dinner. I haven’t heard my wife’s voice in almost 5 days, and if I don’t hear it today, you’re all going to know about it.”

Luca chuckles as Street’s eyes widen. “Yes, sir,” they all say together.

“She’s braver than any of us,” Hondo muses teasingly.

“Better looking, too,” Deacon replies.

✯✯✯✯✯

The final bell rings and your shoulders slump as you say goodbye to each passing student.

“Thank you,” Drew says quietly.

“You’re welcome, Drew. I’ll make sure Sergeant Kay visits soon, okay?”

He nods. “I’m sorry for interrupting.”

“It’s okay, Drew, thank you. Have a good rest of your birthday and enjoy your party tomorrow, bud.”

Drew smiles as he nods excitedly before rushing out. The stack of papers on your desk has dwindled slowly, and you carelessly push it into your bag, unwilling to stay in your classroom for a minute longer than you have to.

Sighing in relief as you start your car, you hope to see Deacon tonight, even if only long enough to kiss him and hear him say goodnight.

✯✯✯✯✯

“Told you we’d do it,” Hondo says, clapping Deacon’s back, “now please go home. Your desperation is wearing off on us.”

Deacon would reply if he had more energy or if Hondo was wrong. He has no shame in admitting that he misses you and needs your comfort after such a hectic week with seemingly pointless chases around Los Angeles County.

He’s back to the station and on his way home to you before Luca notices he left.

✯✯✯✯✯

When Deacon steps into the house, he immediately feels lighter and happier. You look up from a paper and smile, setting it aside. Beginning to stand, Deacon moves faster than you and practically falls on top of you, pinning you to the couch with a tight hug.

You move one arm across his shoulders as he buries his face between your neck and shoulder. Running your fingers through Deacon’s hair, you relax in his embrace, and the week away seems worth the wait.

“I missed you,” you tell him, scratching his scalp.

“Missed you more,” he mumbles, tightening his grip on you.

“We should order dinner then, right?”

Deacon nods, and you smile as you pull his phone out, typing in your birthday to unlock it. Once the food is ordered, you move your hands to Deacon’s tense back muscles.

“Seems like your week was as long as mine,” you muse, gently kneading a knot in his lat muscle.

He groans before sitting up, pulling himself close to you. “I’m sorry.”

You shake your head, kissing his cheek quickly before asking, “How are you?”

Deacon catches your chin, pulling you in for a real kiss as he replies, “Better now.”

Once your dinner is delivered, you sit with your thigh pressed against Deacon’s as he tells you about the string of robberies and hostage situations spanning the county this week. He’s more interested in hearing about your week, so he doesn’t go into much detail before asking about you.

“Well, today was Drew’s birthday and he was pretty grumpy,” you tell Deacon, moving your legs across his lap.

“Not Drew, he’s my favorite!” Deacon exclaims.

“I think he was upset that you couldn’t come to class on his big day,” you excuse, running a finger along Deacon’s cheekbone and down his jaw as you add, “and he was tired, like someone else I know.”

Deacon nods, leaning against you.

“We should go to bed,” you whisper.

Deacon shakes his head, making himself comfortable beside you, one arm wrapped firmly around your waist to keep you close.

“If we go get ready and get in the bed, we can cuddle easier,” you bribe.

Deacon’s eyes open as he asks, “Promise?”

Chuckling, you link your pinky with Deacon’s and promise. He holds you to it, pulling you into his arms when you’re changed and ready to relax. He hugs you tightly, refusing to let go even though you don’t try to fight him. 

As you fall asleep in Deacon’s arms, you whisper, “I love you.”

“I love you,” Deacon replies, entering into the best sleep all week.

✯✯✯✯✯

When you wake up, Deacon has moved you closer to him in your sleep. It’s as if he thought he’d wake up and you’d be gone. Brushing your finger over his facial features, you wish you could admire him all day, but you need to get up and get a glass of water.

As you try to move out of his grip, it tightens. You finally give up and decide to wake him up.

“Deac, baby, I need to get up,” you say gently.

“It’s been a week, you can’t leave,” he mumbles.

“I just need to get some water, handsome.”

Deacon seems to debate his options before unhooking his arms and saying, “Two minutes or I’m coming to find you.”

“I have no doubt.”

You return in less than two minutes, but when you offer to make breakfast and bring it back, Deacon rolls out of bed and sleepily follows you to the kitchen. Standing behind you, he keeps his arms around your waist as he helps you prepare breakfast, trailing kisses up your neck each time you turn your head.

“I’m glad we’re both home now,” you tell him, turning in his arms to kiss him.

“Me too,” he replies, pulling you in for another kiss.

✯✯✯✯✯

It takes hours, but you finally convince Deacon to talk about himself and his week at work. As you direct him to the patio, you find yourself in his lap, enjoying the sun after a week inside with your rambunctious class.

“You’re too good for me,” Deacon says, interrupting his story.

“You’re too good for me,” you repeat.

Deacon smiles at the challenging look on your face, aware that you will win any argument he tries to make. This conversation is practiced, and he knows how it ends: an agreement that you are soulmates, completing each other and perfect for one another.

“I think we need a vacation,” you tell him.

“Or a second honeymoon,” he suggests, kissing your jaw.

“But you have to come visit my class first or I’ll have a riot on my hands.”

“Technically, you’d have a better chance of getting me there for riot control.”

You laugh, leaning against Deacon’s chest as you kiss the corner of his mouth.

“I’ll see if I can make some time this week. For you and the kids.”

The sun dips below the hills, and you wonder where the day went, though you know time spent with Deacon always goes too fast.

“Same thing tomorrow?” you ask, pulling your legs up as Deacon nudges you to shift.

Lifting one of your legs so you’re sitting in his lap, your face just above his, Deacon smiles and answers, “Anything with you.”

You tilt your chin down, brushing your lips across Deacon’s. He sighs, raising his hands so one is on your waist and the other behind your neck. Settling on his thighs, you lean against Deacon’s chest as you kiss him, letting his love and comfort calm you from the inside out.

“I love you,” you say against his lips.

“Love you more.”

You push your hands against his chest, taking a deep breath before arguing, “Impossible.”

Deacon tilts his head, a bright smile making his eyes look deeper and darker than usual. He’s irresistible, and as you kiss him again, he promises himself not to let work get in the way like that again.

Pulling back, you suggest, “You should bring your whole squad next time, the kids would love it.”

“If we can spare the time.”

“'If'? You can't do it, not even for me?” you ask with a pout. “Your wife?”

Deacon nods, telling you he’ll find a way.

“It’s that easy,” you whisper, kissing his nose.

“Because you cheat,” Deacon accuses.

“Because you love me.”

Deacon can’t argue, so he pulls you down for a slower kiss, happy to spend another slow, lazy night in your arms before doing it all again tomorrow.

[cryptoradfemme]

TW: Opinion LMAO

Very hot take: Lesbian politicism is stupid. You can be a radical feminist and still date a man. Some people are just so chronically online they'll tell you that you can't. Yes, men abuse, yes, men rape, kill, pillage, etcetera. You don't think women who are bisexual or straight acknowledge that? Some people choose to be a radical feminist and still be romantical in the same way that some radical feminists who are lesbian do. It's weird how some of you have made it so that only lesbians can date under radical feminism. If they find out the hard way their boyfriend has sick thoughts, then they find out the hard way like god intended. Men can be secretly predatory, that's true, but living your life in fear and regretting it later is more stupid. Stop trying to control who women date, now you just sound like the enemy. If they have sex with a man, if they choose to have a child, then holy shit.. I mean wow. She made that choice. You know women weren't able to do that before, yeah?? That's a pretty big step. She, the woman, made the choice to sleep with a guy and have a child with him on her terms. And he didn't force himself onto her? Progress. Okay? Progress people. Stop fear mongering, you're resetting progress. Why not post about the good parts, just like how climate change blogs will post the shit things that are happening in the world but sprinkle in some of the good things. Maybe stuff like "Dude gets arrested for being a rank pos"? "Pedophile ring gets exposed everyone celebrates"? "Women get a win for once in court cases"? Post about news from around the world. If you just post about the terrible things happening you'll fall down a mental pipe of shit. Trust me, its terrible. You'll be scared to go outside, scared to do anything. Scared to interact with even normal everyday dudes. The point is, yes, shits happening. That is a fact that nobody can deny. Men can be terrible and they're being taught to this day to still be terrible. But you know what? That doesn't mean you can't have some hope. When you lose hope, you start sounding crazy. You sound like me back in 2020 when i seriously thought that everyone was out to get me. I became a shut in, i didn't go out, i didn't make friends, i didn't do anything. I was so afraid every friend i met would be some scary son of a gun because a lot of them kept turning on me. You can't do that. You can't be afraid of every guy you meet. You will go crazy and it's unhealthy to promote this type of shit to younger girls especially around my age. I'm so fucking lucky i haven't lost my mind to this yet from listening to some of you chat about this stuff like it's completely normal. If you can't have optimism and keep trying and keep hoping, you will lose at life. I didn't get out of my slump by farting around and keeping up that mindset.

In the end, let women have identities without you needing to chime in and shit on them the same way guys shat on you for being a teen girl once. If a girls bisexual, straight, lesbian, let it happen. Like that's even your business anyways dude. Stop dictating who dates who. Woman up maybe? I don't know. It's not like every single guy out there is shit for brains. Yeah, it's a majority in the same way you wouldn't know if that snake in your backyard is poisonous or not, but some of those snakes aren't poisonous. The point is to be vigilant, to speak out about womens issues, to help younger women and older women navigate through a life that strips them of their choice and rights, but to also not lose yourself in it. Take up hobbies, actually talk to some guys for once too. You're an extremist, not a radical. That's a totally different branch at that point. So yes. Let women date men if its what they want. You can warn them about the dangers and still let people do it. It's like saying "This roller coaster might brake down because it's old and rust, do you want to ride it anyway?" Usually the answer is yes especially if its your favorite roller coaster.

Liberal feminism - Bunch of spiritualist "boss girl" written in pink glitter font with a bit of "not all men" mixed in there with tra acceptance. They are pro sex work and pro porn. They are scratching only the tip of the iceberg and this is where most people start out.

Radical feminism - Just right, it's a perfect balance. Teaching women to be vigilant, acknowledging that you can't make "acceptances" for certain groups who threaten womens liberty and rights. Anti trans, anti gender conforming. Open to criticism, and hasn't completely lost their minds. The 4b movement is welcomed, It's anti sex work, Anti porn, And its balanced between leftism and rightism. Relies on understanding how capitalism affects women day to day and reflects on issues even far across the globe. It isn't American centered. You realize the importance of working with men but also against them to maintain some sense of harmony.

Extremist feminism - Anti men completely. You hate them so much you would go lengths just to avoid them. You believe they'll never change, not even in the future. You also hate tras but you want to be violent against them, not help them. You don't get outside much, your fear mongering has completely taken over your brain to the point you have no male friends because you think males are out to get you at every single waking second. You think they're under you and you don't dream of a world of equality, you dream of revenge. You're probably accidentally racist at some points in your life.

[dizzy-and-friends]

A lead brick, and a glass oven.

"She's dead, Leaf. Let it go. Stop this." Ten minutes after Umi pulled a gun on me, she finally held it at a low ready, just itching to take my leg out from under me. the conversation got really stale. She followed me onto this old balcony, watching the banquet through the tiled colours of stained glass and fake moonlight. Umi didn't have to chase me, I was here the whole time. This was my new grave-stone. 70 story tall Glass Bottle full of rich flats. If she shoots me here, at least I'll die before i hit the weird fake concrete. Her arguments were stale, and honestly, so were mine. We were both winded, tired, hungry. Thirsty... Her gun was met with my gun. My suit matched the white metallic finish, and all the dirt and blood from my hands. Quite a pair, Its a shame i never got this suit dry cleaned. I'd fill you in on the details, but... "She's alive, I saw her. If she died, you killed her. Don't bullshit me, Umi. We've been through too much. I saw her face, I kissed her on the fucking cheek before she got dragged out. My lips almost melted on her face, Umi, I know she was alive."

Umi grimaced at me, she hates this part of the talks. Every time she has to put me out, cool me off, its this whole missing girl case. It ate me up. It burned me. I was upside down about it. Umi probably orchestrated the whole thing to fix some bullshit between me and the girl's father. She obviously thought I was off my bullshit - but really I was just off my meds. I was going underground.

"You're a peace talker, Leaf. Always have been. You're not supposed to kick doors. You left that behind in the Eurocare death-squad. Leaf, please. Ira is gone. IRA. Is no more."

Umi had a way with words, she spoke in riddles. I didn't always understand them, because of this fucking language barrier. Her weapon stayed in I've gotten way better at it. I tend to learn how to speak local dialects faster when I'm deeper with the crowd. So I took my jacket off, maybe ease her mind a bit. I was only armed with the pistol and a dead-switch. Hooked to several metal pipes of her favorite colour. I was a walking cluster-mine, and at this height we were only a stone's throw away from the Glass wall between me and the Ocean of stars and red Sand on the other side of this stupid mars-dome thing. Umi didn't even look that surprised, so i guess she expected it.

I always hated colony life.

"Darling, I don't speak mandarin too well, you know that. But you're making this hard to believe." I paused to scratch my temple with the barrel of my pistol, finger floating just over the trigger. Umi stepped back, and had a little bit of a sweat in her tough girl poker face. Umi makes a great mom because of that poker face. Her kids can't ever get a read on her, and to be honest, I'm struggling with it too. At least now she had her gun pointed at me properly. I was a threat, suddenly. "I just can't understand your plot, here. You don't cut my brakes, ram my car, take my Glitter and throw it all in the fire. I invented fire. I put that fire out for you. Every night i sang that song, I danced those steps. Each Night I kept the fire down for you."

Umi was silent for a moment while i brought my gun back to face her, generally speaking. At this point she'd need a sixty hard head start to avoid the debris.. and this little patio was only big enough for a bed and a camera to point at it, so we didn't have much choice but to talk it out. "Then I'll Say it in french, dumbass."

Umi didn't like talking to me in my language, she always said it made her feel stupid. I She spoke okay, I could understand her just fine after all these years. "She is gone, Leaf. Stop the game. No more bombs, no more guns. You're bleeding me dry, and once I'm off the table you're going to start hearing choir bells and a burning piano. There are bigger issues at play here, and Andrea is good as dead, too. Close the book. Stop." When you work for these assholes, you really learn to speak one way, and talk another. There were a dozen ways I could interpret her weird stresses, and dumb accent. None of the obvious ones were new to me. I did not ask her for shit I already knew, though. I wanted to hear her admit that she tried to glass me and my date. I wanted to know where the girl was taken. The only reason her captors would still be alive is that she was too injured to fight back. "I know it hurts, but i respect your ability to really 'dumb it down' for me. Maybe they are dead. I know you can't let me go, not after all this. If i stop now, if I close this book... How do you plan on getting me out of it? Kill me? That's not very shrewd."

Umi would have rolled her eyes at me, if it weren't for the guns and explosives involved. She groaned and shifted her shoulders. Her stone like position on the balcony was a little more sloppy. I finally got her angry at me. "Pull your head out of your ass king, we are both dancing tonight because you have the trigger, and I need you to cool down before we all go through a hole in the glass. This is not you. You don't work like this. Innocent people die if you don't stop this" Umi was people-people. She enjoyed the old worlds idea that business on the streets doesn't mix drinks with the civilians. But unfortunately, this dome killed its last civilian. Admitedly, i was tired of the systema, and the drugs, and the turf war. We had to make dirty deals for fucking water pumps to get fixed some times. These people were idiots, and swimming around a sinking ship like rats in oily water. "INNOCENT isn't really what we like to do here on mars! S'long as syndicat is operational, as long as you have a job, every one in this god damn dome is dirty." I was a little pissed off, and the heat in my voice could have caused steam from the dew on my cheeks. I was crying when she found me, and haven't had good time to stop and finish that cry.. hard to choke that shit back for 20 minutes straight. Umi let me catch my breath, really let me cook on that ideal of innocent civilians for a moment - then she stuck her nose in my fucking business again.

"What about Valeriya? -- I was livid. Beside myself. I interupted her, and the conversation devolved from here. "What ABOUT IRA!" I screamed, hot spit flicking through my teeth and down my lips. I heaved each breath through my nose like a bottle rocket. Both hands folded around my gun to meet her eyes with the barrel. Slowly she breathed, and she let me cook off. She opened her mouth to speak again as I dropped a long sigh of grief. "Think, Leaf, -- What about The kids? I've been working for years to de-escelate" Umi used that saccharine tone to speak through my anger, but I was a hot iron in the ashes of a dead blacksmith. Just waiting to be put in the water, so i interrupted her repeatedly. "Fucking joke, Umi? don't fucking joke!" i was loud, Black-out mad, and still huffing my breath. Umi raised her voice to get over my emotional bagge. " DE-ESCALATE this shit, bring it off the streets. We work at the arcade now, you know that! You made that with me! Its working, Leaf, just slow down and think." She preached to me about this shit constantly. She felt like some kind of saintly mother-sister-thing. The proud body of nourishing justice just waiting to see the end of the violence to tell the people that it was her idea the whole time. Umi wanted to be the last boss standing at the end of the seven year war, when all hell breaks loose and corporate gets involved. "You're JUST playing the same shit, there is no progress here. We're not disarming the gang war. We are the gang wars. The entire club is just a gangwar. How many tables, bullet holes, how many wom-" Umi tried to interrupt me. It didn't go well. "Too many, too many, i know. I know. Just" "YOU DON'T KNOW SHIT, UMI. WHERE IS SHE?" I took four steps forward and put her gun over my heart, and exposed the wires under my dress shirt that lead to the heartbeat signal. The bomb was wired back to my life and her life was wired to my death. The commotion stirred my cuff-links enough to expose my watch - a digital reminder of the death trigger. She screamed at me, "LET HER GO! I ALREADY FIXED THIS THREE YEARS AGO. I TOLD YOU TO TAKE A VACATION." the saftey on her 45 dropped and her hand was cool, steady. She was ready to let her kids live if it meant raining glass all over the city below. I didn't buy her bluff, but i let her take the gun from my chest to my head. My hands were resting low now. "Bullshit... I muttered, and ripped the cables out of my arm. "leaf, no, no no." The whole harness of wires came with it. The signal flatlined, my smart watch said so at least. I looked at her beautiful eyes and used my singing voice. "Lets take a nice cold walk."

Nothing happened, of course. Not to us. Not immediately.

".. You were bluffing.." two miles away, the dome's rain system went off. The emergency sirens started blaring. It was loud, the sky shook. I took one of the pipes from my vest, and unscrewed the cap, to take a sip of the clean water inside. "No, I just always loved the rain. I like to think Ira enjoyed the rain, and shitty coffee, too. You capsule lovers always think i'm going after the glass. You worry so much about being sucked into space or getting stuck in the sand, that you never worry about the water." Umi looked up, but the falling rain burned her eyes a little. Unusual for martian simulations of rain. The thunder wasn't real either but i thought it was a nice touch. "There is no redemption here, Umi. It is all Pear Shaped now.. Coporate will be around to fix this shit soon. Go hug your kids."

Umi was rubbing the shit out of her eyes, and I gave her my old sunglasses from my coat pocket. My hat covered my eyes, so I picked that off the ground and put my coat back on. I handed her the entire dome on a silver tray. All she has to do is survive the fall. Once coprorate kick the doors in at the star-port, this whole mafia-mob-triad bullshit love game will wither in the sun. Theres no one on earth that would think a dome with dirty water could turn a profit. Umi shot me in the arm, and i was lucky she wasn't aiming for anything good. She took one of my water cans and walked off.

"You're welcome, and go to hell. You're an evil woman, Leaf.."

[twistedtummies2]

Fifteen Days of Disney Magic - Number 4

Welcome to Fifteen Days of Disney Magic! In honor of the company���s 100th Anniversary, I have been counting down my Top 15 Favorite Movies from Walt Disney Animation Studios! We’re nearing the end of this event… Today’s entry should ring a bell. Ha Ha. Number 4 is…The Hunchback of Notre Dame.

“Hunchback” is an oddball in the Disney Canon. It seems to be a movie that polarizes people, in a way that no other picture from the Disney Renaissance period seems to. Depending on who you ask, it is either one of Disney’s darkest and most interesting animated movies, or it is a bizarre misfire that wasn’t very well thought out. Obviously, I fit into the former category: while I will concede the film does have some flaws (well…really just one flaw, which I’ll get to later), I don’t think those are nearly enough to warrant any real animosity towards the picture. And while it very, VERY clearly makes drastic changes from its source material…well…if people can forgive movies like “Hercules,” “Pocahontas,” and “Frozen,” I think “Hunchback” is more than deserving of a pass, too. This, in my opinion, is one of Disney’s absolute biggest films. And I don’t mean that in the sense of its popularity, technical merit, influence, or anything like that. I just mean the film, itself, feels MASSIVE. There’s something grand and sublime about so many of the things in this movie. The visuals are stunning, almost everything feels just gigantic, from the cathedral the tale centers around to the underground haven of the Court of Miracles. The themes are quite impressive, as well: while the story isn’t allowed to be as dark and adult as Victor Hugo’s classic novel, the movie nevertheless touches on some ideas that most Disney movies can’t go into. Faith, corruption, prejudice, madness, lust vs. love…these are things you don’t find in too many family films, certainly not ones with a fine “G” rating, today. These elements are only heightened by the music. Once again, I don’t just mean the songs (which are, of course, exceptional; I’m quite certain no one here needs to be reminded of the magnificence of “Hellfire,” just for a start), but the soundtrack itself. A commonality between all four of my Top 4 Favorite Disney Films is they all have phenomenal soundtracks, and a big part of what makes me love each movie comes from the splendor of the music on display. “Hunchback’s” score carries the breadth of its emotional and physical scope alike: naturally, the liturgy-influenced sections, with their Latin chanting and use of pipe organs, bold brass, and pounding percussion cause the film’s most dramatic moments to ascend to a higher plane, almost giving it an operatic sensibility. But even the smaller moments are affected, with tunes that carry a smaller, more “homey” sort of feeling, more like a traveling carnival or county fair, or the warmth of a family parlor.

If there is one downside to “Hunchback of Notre Dame,” it is that perhaps that emotional playing field is a bit TOO broad. A very common complaint most people have about the film – no matter whether they love it or hate it – is that its tone is slightly scattershot. Keep in mind, animation was still seen very much as a children’s medium at the time, and Disney DID want to market this movie to a wider, family-oriented audience. As a result, the film does have issues with the dark, adult tone suddenly grinding its gears as it brakes to a halt to allow some slapstick silliness for the kiddy-winks to enjoy, before slamming back into high gear with pathos and power. The most egregious example of this would be Quasimodo’s talking Gargoyle friends – Victor, Hugo, and Laverne – who most people tend to regard as obnoxious comedic filler figures. While I will concede the tone IS a bit of a problem, I’ve never really minded THAT much. Heck, after recent years of watching various forms of anime, maybe I’ve just grown increasingly desensitized to radical shifts in tone. But as a kid, I always loved this movie because it made me feel like I was watching something different, something I couldn’t see anywhere else. As an adult, I actually respect it even more, not less, for the effort it took to pull this movie off with any degree of competency. The characters are great (for the most part), the voice acting is great, the artistry on every level is great…this film, in my opinion, not only deserves all the attention it seems to be getting more and more in recent years…but perhaps even more later down the line. We’re officially entering the Top 3! The countdown continues tomorrow with my 3rd Favorite Disney Movie! HINT: It Is a FAIRY Good Film. (Ha Ha. Again.)

[ghastspidergwen]

:3

As you know, I like jeeps, and I also like trucks, and unfortunately or rather fortunately that lead me down the rabbit hole of jeep trucks

But I'm not here to talk about the Comanche (MJs), the old SJ (or J series) gladiators, or my beloved CJ-8 scrambler.

I'm here to talk about the 10 ton trucks :]

These guys:

Now I'm still not entirely sure how it's name was coined as I'm like 90% it's a classification instead of being the name of a singular truck, with these trucks being more like tractors than modern day trucks (besides big rigs) and the trucks also weighed a lot more than 10 tons

(It's name is even weirder when you consider that it's cousin the five quarter ton was named that due to it's payload rating)

The trucks I know the most about are the M123A1C Truck Tractor and the M125 which had a massive V8 (785 cu in or 12.9L) with about 300hp and a torque of around around 6300 pound per inch if my math is right.

These guys were known for hauling tank and artillery parts :]

This one is hauling some construction equipment!

Now more is known about the M123 but from my understanding they were essentially the same truck but with slightly different purposes and slight improvements

All in all a very impressive truck, but it gets better! Now this beauty is a little more than 9ft wide, about 23ft long, and a whopping 9ft with a few inches height wise with some 14x24 tires (about 53 inches or just below 4 and a half feet).

Now earlier I mentioned that the ten ton truck classification was a little misleading, this beauty was actually about 32.5k lbs or roughly 16 tons on its own without any cargo, but with cargo (depending on if you were on or off road) it was 60,000 lbs off road and 65,000 lbs on road at a speed of just over 40mph.

:]

Now the really interesting part was how it's engine worked, I already talked a little bit about it's specs but not the really fun stuff.

It had steering brakes! That meant you could choose what side of the rig you wanted to apply the breaks to! Very useful for turning in bad conditions and surviving spin outs.

It also had Williams Air Brakes! Which blocked a part of the exhaust pipe, which is normally a bad thing but since it was an insanely heavy truck and a stick shift, you needed the engine to slow down so that you could easily shift into a different gear.

The transmission itself weighed about 1,500 lbs and was a stick shift 5 speed and what made it extra interesting was that it has 2 lube systems instead of the typical one you see in any other rig, unfortunately it's transmission system despite being really interesting kinda sucked and had a major leaking issue and it's weird plumbing/wiring didn't really help it at all.

Sadly due to these things being fuckin huge and also made in the 50s and only sold to the US military, there's barely any of em around anymore and you're not going to see any on the roads

Id probably rank this as my favorite big rig but my favorite truck still has to be my beloved CJ-8<3

Thank you for letting me ramble<3

this is exciting what I asked for, thank you very much!

[cae-liveblogging]

Tmnt 2003 S1 Ep4

they introduced casey jones early. they usually wait until a while into the series before they do that, at least a season.

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"I finally met a guy who's as angry as I am" soulmates <3

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this intro kinda slaps tho nevermind the only good part is where they say "watch out for shredder"

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Raph was deadass about to kill Mikey

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"bro or no, you got to go"

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put down the pipe put down the pipe

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"raph, have you lost your mind!?" yes

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yeah go get some air bby

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2003 raph don't make excuses tho like 2012 raph

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casey "fiery flashback" jones

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love his accent tho

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"CUZ CASEY JONES IS ON THE JOB" DAMN RIGHT HE IS

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WHY did this lady walk into the shady ass alley

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evil laughter

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"hand over the purse sweet thing and we promise not to hurt you, too much"

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"purple draaaagooonns come out and plaaaaaaayyyy"

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"I'm puttin you punks outta business... PERMANENTLY" go casey go go go casey go

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"that guys outta control" sounds like someone i know

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"keep away from me you lizard thing!" bruh he's not hurting anyone

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so violent so fun

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two violent boys fuckin around in the street

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"we should be tricking out the armored car!"

"by 'we' you mean 'me' "

yeah pretty much

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givin mikey busy work

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can casey find another thing to call raph than "freak"? come on get original. ik you don't have many marbles but use the ones you got.

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SECRET TUNNEL! SECRET TUNNEL!!! THROUGH THE SEWER! SECRET SECRET SECRET SECRET TUNNEL!!!

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at least they're different shades of green but besides that they're nearly indistinguishable. which is exactly why they're color coded

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raph lettin loose

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post-fight clarity

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"take it ea-sy"

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manchild casey jones

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secret tunnel leads to the surface

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is there a single job that donatello doesn't have to do my favorite boy needs a break

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formally invited to a fight on friday night, what should I wear?"

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apologies brooooo i love this raph so much

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"who are you and what have you done with our brother?"

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still high key brother antics tho

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🎵busted🎵

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love how D keeps count of all the times Splinter has told them not to go to the surface

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your dad just gave you permission to use the car take it raph take it

splinters face tho

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love how mikey just covers his face with his hand while spray painting buddy do you need a mask?

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casey on his motorcycle

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dragon face

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donnie and his fun facts love this man

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why would they not know what features there are they were all working on it together.

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that is a kickass motorcycle tho

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where did raph learn to ride a motorbike?

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the front brakes??? really????? threw him of his bike :(

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akita slide :)

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track pants and trauma dumping

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love this A+ banter

casey and raph are a perfect match

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the turtle's are so short compared to casey

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C: "i can see the family resemblance"

M: "i'm the pretty one :)"

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L: "i got my split kick right! :D"

R: "I missed it, lemme see it again"

L: *does it again*

R: "one more time"

L: *happily does it again*

R: "HA! Saw that one!"

C: "i give you a 10"

L: "Raph, only 6?"

R: "hey! it's all I got!"

they are the brothers ever huh

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casey is literally the least clever man in existence

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"he's your brother" "no no no, he's your brother" "absolutely, he's your brother" i love them all

[majesticbrownjawn]

I was almost done writing this when I came across this post that’s a perfect for this little jawn.

Drive-Thru

Rated: NSFW 😈

———————————

“Watch where you’re going, babe. You gone fuck my shit up.”

She’d nearly hit a stopped car in the drive thru of Erik’s favorite fast food spot. The line was wrapped around the building.

“Well that’s what you get for making me drive. You know I hate driving,” she pouted.

Erik simply raised a brow at her and pointed to the boot on his foot. He broke it trying to break her fall. He told her it wasn’t a good idea to climb her ass on the counter and stand on it to reach the top shelf of plates. But he still flew to her rescue when he saw her wobbling, not knowing the floor was wet from a glass of water she spilled on her climb up. She regained her balance before she fell but he instead cascaded to the floor with a loud thud. He hobbled on his foot for a week before she made him go to the doctor. That was yesterday.

She felt guilty about it, which is why she was the one driving and not him like always. But she didn’t have any less of an attitude about it than she normally would.

“Cool ya puss, baby...” He gripped up as much of her thigh as he could squeeze. The short, thin, baby doll dress she wore made it easy. “...before I cool it for you.”

She huffed in frustration at him telling her to chill but also because his warm, rough hands had worked her up that quick. They always did, no matter the time or place. Even in the drive thru of Erik’s favorite chicken spot.

“But Eriiiiiiik-,” she whined.

“Hush,” he whispered as he leaned over and nuzzled his face in her neck, attaching his supple lips to her. She soon realized the attention to her neck was merely a distraction when she felt two fingers gently pressing against either side of her clit.

“Fuh-fuck, Erik.” Her fingers dug into his forearm but it did nothing to stop him from making circles up, down and around her sensitive bundle. She let out a silent scream when his thick finger slid between her engorged pussy lips and went inside her.

“That’s what I thought. Shut the fuck up.”

She looked at him with pleading eyes, vigorously nodding her head like the good girl she was.

They were so wrapped up in each other that they missed the car in front of them moving up in the line. A honk from another car momentarily brought them out of the lusty haze they created within the confines of his SUV.

“Think you can pull up with two of my fingers inside you?”

He slid another digit in before she could reply. The surprise and pleasure of his action shot a jolt of pleasure through her body, causing her foot to hit the gas pedal unexpectedly. She had to slam on the brakes to not hit the car in front of them.

“Careful baby. I’d hate to have to chastise you for fucking up my car...but then again, I’d love to punish yo thick ass right now, especially after what happened to my foot.”

“But daddyyyy—“ so much pressure was building from the work of his fingers inside her that her vision was blurring. “You said—you said you didn’t blame me.”

He used the pad of his other thumb to wipe a single tear from the apple of her cheek. The guilt and pleasure she was experiencing was too much.

“I don’t blame you, baby. But next time imma let cho hard-headed ass fall.” Erik’s head nodded to the front of the car. “Time to order. You know what I want.”

“Welcome to Clucky’s, what can I get you today?” The voice from the intercom was bright and clear.

“Umm, hi,” she replied with shaky breath. “Can I get a number threeee?”

Erik decided in that moment he’d latch himself to her nipple. He didn’t even bother to lift her dress up. The warm breath of his mouth seeped through the material, completely overwhelming her senses.

“Is that all, ma’am?”

“Order my shit,” he demanded in her ear as his thumb flicked at her clit tirelessly.

“And a number 10, please.”

“Look at this pussy, got you creaming down my fingers. You wishing it was daddy’s dick, don’t you?”

“Did you say cream, ma’am? We don’t sell coffee after breakfast.” The cashier obviously heard Erik’s nasty ass.

“Uhhh I mean mayo, shit!” She said, trying to cover it up, embarrassed.

She quickly closed the window and lifted her dress, whimpering as she watched his fingers go in and out of her. The milky, creamy wetness she produced was having a serious effect on her man too. Her eyes traveled over to the ever-growing pipe in his joggers, yearning for her hands, begging to feel as good as her pussy felt right now. His eyes caught hers and gave her a silent warning not to touch him. She ignored it and reached over anyway, gently massaging the bulb of his dick over his sweats. He grunted in pleasure, despite the look of disapproval on his face. She couldn’t help herself. She loved to make daddy feel as good as he made her feel.

“Ok babygirl, since you don't want to listen, you better make me cum before we get to the window or imma bend your ass over the trunk and fuck you in the parking lot. You want everybody to see me wrecking yo shit?”

Part of her did. And he knew it.

Her cheeks burned at the thought of Erik fucking her pussy with dozens of eyes on them but the thought of other women looking at him in the lustful, longing way she did filled her with unwarranted jealousy. A jealousy that made her pussy all the more slippery. To know women wanted him but he only wanted her was a turn-on itself. He knew how her mind worked and that the words he said would have the exact effect on her that they did.

“Aye—“ he pinched her hardened nipple to bring her back to the moment. “Make me cum.”

She was excited and nervous. Erik had the stamina of a marathon runner. The nigga never came fast, her begging him to ‘please nut’ was a frequent occurrence during their lovemaking. Now he was demanding she make him cum in a matter of minutes, and now the line was actually moving past a snail’s pace. Sis was running out of time.

She widened her plush thighs to give Erik more access and a better view. He always praised the beauty of the deep brown to bright pink ombré of her pussy when he was in it. It was a start, but she’d certainly have to do a lot more.

“Daddy, why’s your dick so hard all of a sudden?” she asked innocently, sliding her delicate hand into his pants and pulling out all 8.75inches. She gasped at the sight of it. Seeing it in the daytime with rays of sunlight shining on it was a sight to behold. “Is that my fault too?”

The only answer she received was the visible tightening of Erik’s jaw and beads of precum slowly trickling from his tip. She moved his natural lube around him, focusing on the head of his dick, knowing it was his most sensitive area. Her hand cupped the soft skin of his tip and made circular motions around it while he continued finger-fucking her.

“Ooo shit Erik, that feels so good baby. Can you add another finger, please?” His eyes bulged and she felt his dick twitch in her hand. “Fuck daddy, yes, yes. I’m gonna cum so soon...thank you daddy, thank you... You’re making me cum so hard for you, I can’t take it...fuck I can’t...fuhhhhhkk!!”

Her hand momentarily paused the work it was doing on Erik’s dick as she came, but that didn’t stop her from noticing the rapid pulsing of it as she orgasmed. Her daddy loved to watch her cum with his thick fingers inside of her.

“That’s my pretty baby, get that good nut.” The sound of his voice with his fingers still filling her hole had her wanting her another cum, but it was his turn.

“Can I make you cum now, daddy?”

“You better. We’re almost at the window.”

She glanced down at his hand inside of her and gently pulled out his fingers, her aroma filling the confined space even more. Erik closed his eyes and deepened his back into the seat, the smell of her bringing him to that familiar, blissful state she and her pussy always put him in. His moment of calm was quickly lifted when he felt his own hand sliding up and down his dick. Erik looked down to see his babygirl’s hand over his using the juices from his fingers—from her pussy—to wet his dick up.

“You nasty, clever little slut—you making daddy use his own hand to cum? Hmm?”

“Please don't be mad daddy. I’m helping, see?” She guided his hand back to her glossy pussy and scooped out more of her sticky cum and made him stroke himself with her juices again. This resourceful bitch. He smiled proudly at her, his eyelids slowly fluttering from their collaborative stroke.

She leaned over to him, grabbing the back of his neck and pulling him into her for a slow, lazy kiss. She dominated it and him in a way that was rare for her. They moaned into each other with need as she continued the swift cycle of wetting his fingers with her pussy and jacking his dick.

“Mmmm daddy, I think imma cum again…” she whispered against his lips.

“Do it. My baby deserves another nut.”

“I do? Cuz I’m a good girl for you?” She kept up her motions on them.

“Yes. Only for me. My good girl with the pretty kitty.”

She unexpectedly bent down to deep throat Erik. The taste of herself on his dick excited her. She gagged on his thick member a few times before looking up at him and letting out a mangled “I love you.” He held her head in place as he exploded in her mouth, cum escaping out the sides as she desperately tried to swallow it all. When she was done, he pulled her back up to his lips and kissed her gently, despite his heavy breathing. He released her in time for her to pull up to the window.

“Sorry for the wait ma’am. Y’all had the number three and—“

Her eyes followed the cashier’s line of vision back into the car and straight into Erik’s lap, where his dick stood erect against his stomach.

“The fuck you looking at? You ain’t never seen a dick before?!” Erik’s girl’s attitude and acute jealousy was unmatched. It was part of the reason he stayed on hard for her. She was like him in a lot of ways, just wrapped in a fluffier , cuter package.

“Baby, chill,” he requested softly. She yanked their food from the cashier and sped off without paying.

“...and what the fuck you mean ‘baby chill’ you the one with cha damn dick out in the middle of a drive-thru!”

“You pulled it out though.”

“Whatever nigga, I’m never driving again. Fuck this and fuck you!”

“I love you too, babygirl.”

[hello-alonso]

The Battle Between Light and Darkness

To start off, I can almost guarantee you that anyone reading this has never heard of this composer. His name is Pratanallis and has a very small following, which is insane because of the quality of his work. He is based in Japan and that itself has its cons, especially for his popularity and recognition, these types of songs would not make it into Western countries on the sole basis that they are sung in Japanese. Pratanallis has been working in the music industry since 2006, making and assisting in several music projects. The genre that he specializes in is symphonic metal/rock and melodic music. The guitar solos in these songs are actually insane and I can’t get enough of them. I really wanted to showcase one of his works to another audience, one that would probably never have heard of him if it wasn’t for this post. In 2019, he released his album, “Holy Fragments” (Album Link if you want to listen along) https://open.spotify.com/album/5eLCKpiL4o7oMVrgLQka3Z?si=4eKdjlp9QcqcB4O0P406Fg&dl_branch=1.

Now, unlike most songs that you would probably hear, this whole album tells a story, and it isn’t about love like most songs are, it is about a journey. There are 11 songs in the album and all of the songs in it contribute to tell this story. In the read more section of this post, Here are the translation to each song if you’d like to listen and be able to understand what they’re saying. Either way, you can still feel the energy from the singers and tempo of the music. Now, imagine you’re sleeping and you wake up from a dream. That’s basically how the first song, Crimson Moonlight goes. It has no vocals and it is made to create the feeling that you’re in a tranquil state of mind. Every song after this is where the fun begins though.

In the second song, Menina Eris, the tempo and vibe immediately change. In terms of the story, you have been woken up from the dream to a sudden realization. That realization being that you are trapped in an isolated world where darkness rains over you. You get a glimpse of an angel, but she strays away and now you are all alone. You are stuck in this lost world and have no idea where to go. 

This is where I will point out two characters throughout the album. The first one is called Sphillia, and in this case she is the angel and savior throughout the album. She tries to save you from the darkness that spreads throughout the world.

On the other hand, there is Mare, whos name translates, according to Wikipedia as a, “malicious entity in Germanic and Slavic folklore that rides on people's chests while they sleep, bringing on nightmares”. Similarly, that’s exactly what she’s doing throughout the story of the album. She may look cute in the picture, but she certainly doesn’t want to do anything cute.

In the next song, Déjà Vu, the fast rock tempo continues and is consistent throughout the track. The story behind this song is the continuation of a loss of hope, where you see the old world you once lived in, but it’s trapped in darkness. The déjà vu you have is from the world you once knew, except it has been completely changed. You stray even farther from the exit and continue in this isolated world. 

Now, for my favorite song in the album. This is also the most popular song based off of Spotify streams, Braking Down (not a typo). This is where Sphillia, the angel and Mare, the evil, are shown and they leave you indecisive on what route you want to take. To fight for good or evil. The next song, Compassion, is similar to the last one where you are not yet ready to choose what to do. The melody feels as if the vocals are Sphillia and the instrumental part of the song is Mare, both very distinct melodies, one rough, and one calm and soothing.

After Compassion, follows the only other song without vocals, Fragment of Tears, This song feels as though you are crying throughout this world you were put in. The melody is made from a pipe organ, which gives it an eerie medieval vibe. Upon ending, the song translates to Justynusty instantly, which changes the tempo back to 100 immediately. This song is where the action commences. Where Sphillia and Mare start to battle each other for control of the world. In this song they are referred to as White and Black wings. Towards the beginning of the song are the lyrics, 

“A deep darkness laughs scornfully tainted by your deceit and it’s reach corrupts everything it is out to tear it all apart”.

This refers to Mare trying to control the world and corrupt everything. Sphillia eventually emerges and starts to try and stop the evil. She eventually puts and end to the madness and peace is restored. 

“Vanquishing the darkness as they flutter the white wings spread out with a singing voice that makes the skies tremble raining down a light of bliss as the beast that consumes the light is born engulfing the land in darkness”.

The next song of the album is With You. Sphillia has beaten Mare and now the world is at peace once again. The tempo is slow and calming throughout. The white wings prevail over the black wings. 

Right after With You, just like in a movie, Mare is back in the next song, Girl’s Seraph. Out of all of the songs, while listening to the album, this is the one that got me confused and intrigued. The song started off calm, until a few seconds in. The melody was the roughest out of all the songs in the album and the bpm was probably well over 200. The first set of lyrics in the song are,

“Now, angel of the eight day time to flap those black-stained wings embrace the deep darkness grant us benevolence, Seraph Maiden.”

The darkness, Mare, is back. She comes back even stronger and ready to attack you and Sphillia. The song continues with the rough melody signifying that they are battling each other. What ultimately destroys the evil is a combination of the sun and Sphillia, they both combine together to destroy all of the darkness Mare has spread throughout the world. The world is saved once again.

Following this chain of events is Holy Fragments. This is the point where you realize that everything that just happened was all a dream. You wake up and start to feel upset that you can’t continue helping the world alongside the angel, so you just dismiss it and try to feel joyful over the memories you made in that dream. To conclude the album, My Happiness is played. The meaning behind this song is that you feel happy and grateful over the life you have. The tempo of this song feels like you could be in a flower field. The piano and violin help make this a calming and emotional song. This world that does not have evil or darkness, you simply feel free and contempt about your surroundings. No darkness engulfs you, there is light all around you. 

Before actually taking an in depth listen to this album, I only knew two songs and of course I didn’t look up the translation. Upon actually listening to the album from start to finish, I have a much greater appreciation for Pratanallis. His beautiful melodies and storytelling throughout the album captivated me all the way through. With only ~2,000 streams on Spotify, I am very sad that he doesn’t have a bigger audience. 

The symphonic instruments used in the album along with the fast tempos really got me into the songs. Even without knowing what the lyrics mean, you can still feel when the song is about something rough and scary or when happiness is attained. I know a lot of people won’t like this genre of music, but if you like rock and metal, I highly recommend checking out his other albums if you enjoyed this one. I hope to have opened your eyes to some music you might not have heard of before  :) 

Translation to the Album!!

https://supergenial.tumblr.com/post/634283455677661184/translation-lyrics-holy-fragments-by-pratanallis

Pratanallis’s Website: https://www.pratanallis.net/

Images for Both Mare and Sphillia: https://www.pratanallis.net/

Information on Pratanallis: metal-archives.com/bands/Pratanallis/3540454256

Spotify Album link: https://open.spotify.com/album/5eLCKpiL4o7oMVrgLQka3Z?si=twsId9ZFR6CffJsu68hqlg&dl_branch=1

Menina Eris YouTube link: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=TYg91YftU2U

Braking Down YouTube link: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=n2ggIOL5Vv8

Wikipedia Definition of Mare: https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Mare_(folklore)

Pipe Organ Demonstration Video: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=FHNLdHe8uxY

Angel Peace on Earth Image: https://www.pinotspalette.com/gilbert/event/198261

Evil Angel Image: https://www.goodfon.com/wallpaper/darren-benton-by-darren-benton-angel-of-death-dark-horror-de.html

[bleh-bleh-blehs]

Please don’t leave me

Part 1

dad!Harrison Osterfeild x Reader

____________________________

A/N- This is mainly based on a movie but I have done major changes here and there. Please leave feedback and the taglist form is in bio :)) 

Warning- None

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3 years later (L.A)

It’s been three years since Lana has left Harrison and baby Evie. Harrison got his big break and was in L.A for shooting. He hated living Evie but he knew that she was in good hands. Evie was either with his mum or with Tom. 

Harrison was going to his flat which he requested the production to give him to stay, so that his daughter doesn’t have to stay in a hotel room when she comes to visit him. 

Just as he was thinking about his little girl, Tom video called him. Picking up the call, he placed his phone in the holder he had brought for the time where his daughter wanted to talk to him when he was in the car. 

“Daddy,” a high pitched voice called him. The camera was unstable which indicated that she has either snatched the phone from Tom’s hand or she has called him without Tom’s knowledge. After a few seconds the screen showed Tom’s face but Evie jumped into the frame knocking Tom backwards. 

Harrison chuckled at his best mate’s struggle. “Daddy.” she said again, now laying on Tom’s chest who also layed on the sofa. “Evieeeee.” Harrison returned his daughter’s energy while paying attention to the road ahead. 

“You are driving? Tom asked. “No, I am just sitting in the car and acting like I am driving.” Harrison replied with a playful eyeroll. Tom gave him a ‘not so amused’ look and Evie laughed seeing her father and godfather’s antics. “Anyway, what did my favorite girl do today?” he asked, giving a quick glance to the road. 

“Nothing much, she stayed with her grandma till afternoon.I picked her up and we went grocery shopping after that, right baby?” Tom asked his goddaughter. “Yes uncle Tommy.” she said, looking up to her uncle. Harrison smiled at his daughter’s cuteness.

“Hey Haz do you want to know what happened today?” Tom asked and Harrison curiously nodded his head. “Well today in the biscuit section, our little girl was chanting that ‘daddy like this biscuits�� or ‘can we buy those chocolates for daddy’ and this old woman congratulated me for being happily married and adopting a small girl.” “What is adobtion?” Evie piped in with her unclear words. 

“You will know when you will grow up. It’s time for you to go to bed now.” Tom said cuddling Evie closer to him with his arm. “Goodnight daddy, goodnight papa.” she said to both Tom and Harrison. 

Yes she called Tom “papa” but only sometimes. Evie cuddled closer to Tom’s chest and to be honest Harrison was jealous of Tom, he wanted to cuddle his daughter too. 

“Goodnight baby.” and the call ended. Harrison looked at the road and immediately hit the brakes. He was just about to hit a girl. Harrison came out of the car to see if she was ok. 

“Oh my god I am so sorry.” The girl sat up straight and no doubt she was the most beautiful girl Harrison has ever seen. “It’s ok I came out of nowhere in front of your car.” she had the sweetest voice too. “We are both at fault then.” Harrison said and she chuckled.

The girl tried to stand but winced in the pain. “I think I sprained my ankle.” She said. “I am so sorry. Can I help you , I feel this my fault. I can drop you anywhere you want.” Harrison rambled. “It’s okay, I can go by myself.” She reasoned. 

“I feel that this is my fault. I was on a call, which I shouldn’t be while driving. So please let me.” Harrison insisted. The girl smiled and told him where she wanted to go. They talked during the whole car ride and Harrison instantly became fond of her. 

The most surprising thing for him was that she didn’t even know that he was a famous actor. :so you don’t watch many movies?” he asked out of the blue. “No, I don’t have much time to watch anything.” she simply replied. 

Harrison nodded as he slowed the car. “Your stop is here my lady.” he said with his heavy London accent. “Thank you so much for the ride, good sir.” She said. “Wait, I don’t even know your name?” “Oh it’s Y/N, Y/N L/N.” Y/N said with a fake British accent. “I am Harrison, Harrison James Osterfeild.” he said with his real accent. Both of them chuckled. “Bye Harrison.” “Bye Y/N.” And both of them parted their ways just for now though.

*

Harrison finally got to his flat. Just as he got out of the car, he noticed a small ID card. He picked it up and inspected it. Y/N L/N it read, it was her clinic ID where she worked. It also had her number. 

Harrison called on the number to tell her that he had her ID card. Harrison wanted to listen to her sweet voice again. And he did, she picked his call after a few rings. Both of them agreed to meet at the clinic in the morning at 8:00am. Harrison grinned like an idiot because he was getting to meet you again.

* 

The loud buzzing of the doorbell woke Harrison up in the morning. He groggily stands up to open the door. He opens the door to a woman aged around 40 to 45. “Um, how can I help you?” he asked the woman. 

“Hello, I am Jillian (Gangu Tai). I am your new housekeeper. You must be Harrison Osterfeild? I am hired by the production to look after you and your daughter. By the way, where is she? Do you have any questions?”

“Well you answered my all questions yourself but I didn’t ask for your assistance for my daughter.” he said. “You didn’t but the production wants your whole attention on the work and not worry about your child.”

Harrison gave her a ‘are you serious’ look. “I am a great nanny. You can check my resume and I also have a certificate.” Jillian continued, looking around the flat for any presence of the child.

“She is not here, she is in London with my family.” Harrison told her. “What is the name of little miss, sir?” the older woman asked. “No need to call me sir. I am much younger than you. Call me Haz and her name is Evelyn, call her Evie.” “You can call me Jill then.”

“What time is it?” Harrison asked her. “Well I arrived at 7:30 and it’s been 5 minutes since.” Jillian told him. “Ah shit, I am gonna be late.” he had to meet Y/N at 8 am and now he is going to be late if he doesn’t hurry.

“Well shit indeed but you don’t have to go to the studio until 9am.” she asked him. “Ohhh, you are going on a date!” “Yes, something like that and please make yourself at home Jillian.” Harrison said as he rushed to the bathroom for a quick shower.

He didn’t want to make a bad impression on Y/N after all.

Permanent Taglist:- 

@spidey-reids-2003, @musicalkeys, @mischiefmanaged011, @parkerpeter24, @missguidedlani, @justanothermarvelmaniac, @whatthefuckimbisexual, @peterspideysstuff, @halfblood-princess-505, @liestookmyvibes, @captainchrisstan, @rnatasha, @seutarose, @adriannajackson, @tombob2005

[arch-venus25]

The Head and the Heart, Part 2

Hello everyone,

I am submitting this for @just-the-hiddles‘s The Damnit Jim, I’m A Vampire, Not A Landlord Fic Frenzy. I chose prompt “1....You can pay your rent in money or in blood.” I was inspired by all the prompts and will probably use them throughout the series. Basically I use the prompts as guide-lines.

This is the first time I have written and shared a fic online-- or ever really! It’s also the first time I’ve written anything modern so please let me know what you think! I hope I’m posting this correctly--I created the title art--LOL I’ve never done this before. I’m aiming to update the series each Tuesday. So here we go...

Series Masterlist: The Head and The Heart

Summary: The twins are taking a night off from their graduate studies-- or at least Tessa is; her twin sister, Antha, is just trying to keep her out of trouble. What starts as a night of good old-fashioned fun and flirting quickly changes as they find themselves at the doorstep of the Hollow House Bed and Breakfast.

Characters: OFCs Antha and Tessa King, original characters/vampires

WARNINGS: 18+ for suggestive themes and violence, cursing, implied drug use, implied rape, stressful/scary situations, vampires, and characters with incredible hair-- you’ve been warned. Read at your own discretion.

Word Count: 2228

Part Two: Long into the Night

        The bass swelled and the drums cracked imitating well-known pop-rock songs that sent the patrons into a lather. Antha wasn’t the only one that finally felt it: the night was officially popping-off as it were and when she followed Tessa’s lead people stared.

        As if caught in a fever-dream, the mirrored image of them simply blew one young man’s mind. Way past his limit, he asked one of the twins “Are you real?” Zoey stepped in, pulling her friends around them acting as a barrier. With the added security in numbers, Antha started to relax, even have a little fun; also, knowing that Doug was on his way helped. The song led into another fan favorite and then another; they rolled with the rhythm, working up a sweat that no air conditioner could soothe.

        Something caught Antha’s eye. It was Franco, watching them, flipping the top of his lighter. A chill ran up her spine. She figured now was the best time to break the news to Tessa.

        “Hey, we’re going home after this,” she yelled into her twin’s ear, “one more round and then home.”

        “What did I tell you? We’re going to have fun!” Tessa proclaimed like it was the only stance she had ever believed in.

        “I just have this feeling Tess, I don’t want to go to that bonfire.”

        “You don’t have to! You’re not my third wheel, just get on home then—I’m going out to get lucky!” Tessa shimmied to her Daft Punk reference as the band began to play Get Lucky. She hummed when she followed Antha’s eyes across the floor toward the booth, where Franco lounged. “How can you resist that tall glass of water?”

        “We’re not going. You can have him over for brunch tomorrow,” Antha turned into the spitting image of her mother on the spot, as if compromising with a child. Every so often she checked the door, wishing Doug would just appear to help wrangle her girlfriends. She was truly outnumbered.

        Tessa laughed incredulously, “Franco doesn’t do brunch.”

        “And he’s not doing this either.” Antha waved her hand between the two of them as if a package deal. Tessa stopped dancing, her brow cocked and arms crossed. Zoey piped in that she would go, as did one of her cronies. Tessa shifted her weight and tossed her hair with her unequivocal “I do what I want” look, then she led the girls off the floor toward the bathroom. Antha trailed behind them, hot on their heels.

        She stood outside her sister’s stall trying to be as reasonable as the cocktail coursing through her veins would allow. Tessa and the others finally came out with the flush of toilets reverberating into one long sustained note, suggesting a migraine to Antha. “Oh, you’re still here? I thought you went home.” Tessa began, her attitude getting away from her as she preened in the mirror. Zoey tried to mediate but fell silent when the twin stated her case.

        “Look, if José asked, if Treyvon, if Brian asked—I would go! We could have fun—I just don’t like Franco. He’s got that weird, slow drawl—he disappears then reappears—where does he go? Where? To bonfires on Slaughter Beach? This sounds like the plot of every slasher horror flick ever made!” Antha explained, exasperated.

        “This is just like ‘the Treyvon incident’ years ago, when he touched your hair—it’s like an endless tug of war with you Ant. You never let anything go!” She rolled her eyes to the ceiling, tired of her sister.

        “Tessa. He didn’t touch my hair—he snuck up behind me, fisted my dreads and whispered some nonsense about reigns or riding—or some shit! You know damn well he’s never ridden a horse so I can only imagine what he meant!” Antha grew annoyed recapping history when all it did was make Tessa laugh as if that was one of those old fond memories. Zoey blushed and covered her mouth, feeling a bit mortified for them both.

        “Maybe, I’ll explain it to you when you’re older.” Tessa shot back as she dabbed her neck with a damp towel. She began mumbling her usual rhetoric of Antha should ‘grow up and relax’, but a moment later she slouched against the counter.

        “If this is going to be a thing let’s just stay local—we can hit up the diner, you know like old times—summer is just starting, class is about to let out, we can head down to the beach another night.” Zoey rationalized.

        “Whoa…” Tessa sighed as if she wasn’t part of the conversation and held fast to the sink. She seemed woozy and held her head.

        “Who bought you drinks other than me?” Antha immediately took her sister up by the face and stared into her rapidly dilating pupils.

        “No, no, its not like that—he’s just got some good shit I haven’t had in a while.” She explained, completely detached.

        “Did you know about this?” Antha barked over her shoulder at Zoey and her friends; the girls hemmed and hawed like they were lined up for her firing squad. Of course, Franco had good shit, she thought. In the light of the bathroom Antha could tell she was the only mostly sober woman in the group. “We’re going home now.” She pulled Tessa and the rest from the bathroom, her head pounding from the music and cheap whiskey.

        When they got outside Franco was leaning on the back of his truck bed as if he were waiting to round up a herd of sheep. One of his friends, beer in hand, offered to help the girls up. Two climbed in, but Zoey hesitated, debating if she was more afraid of missing out or Antha. Antha put Tessa in her car and told her not to move; before she could hunt Franco down she found him lumbering toward her.

        “What is wrong with you? She’s as high as a kite!” She confronted him, attempting to keep her voice low.

        “Really?” He replied with mild surprise. “Well I got yer friends here—y’all still welcome to come down if you want.” He handed her the messenger bag and continued casually, his hands in his pockets as if he couldn’t fathom why she was upset. She threw her bag in the back and slammed the door—praying that Doug’s Buick would be squealing into the parking lot right about now.

        “You’re trouble, you know that? My sister doesn’t need a redneck like you hanging around—so do us a favor and disappear like you always do.” She threatened him as he dryly pulled a cigarette from his other ear and lit it. What else you got behind those ears?

        “Well, I see.” He bent to look in on Tessa who was fighting the urge to laugh or cry, she wasn’t sure in her current state. “I guess I’ll be hitting the road then.” He ironically saluted and turned to his truck. Antha watched as he threw up his tailgate and fired up the engine. His friend and the girls clucking like teenagers in the back.

        Antha sighed and swung herself into the driver’s seat of her sister’s car, realizing she didn’t have the keys in her pocket. When she turned to Tessa to get them, she found an empty seat. To her horror she looked up ahead to see the familiar white hot-pants climbing into the passenger side of Franco’s monster-sized truck. She jumped from the car, prepared to block the way and be crushed rather than watch him drive away with her.

        Before she could take one step closer her ears filled with the shrieking of brakes slamming behind her. She hadn’t had time to turn before flashes of color and angry feet whizzed by her body. Someone shouldered her out of the way, knocking her to the ground. The air filled with the unmistakable sound of shattering glass. The girls were suddenly screaming and jumping from the truck bed as Antha held herself, recoiled on the ground and terrified.

        “What the fuck?” Franco bellowed as José took a baseball bat to his side mirror and his crew slashed the back tires. “Who is this guy?” He yelled, completely blindsided, not truly wanting the answer. The invading men knocked out the taillights as José threw open the door and yanked Franco from his seat.

        “Tessa!” Antha held herself, her shoulder throbbing. The men circled as Franco attempted to defend his case.

        “Dude, I don’t know you—are you her boyfriend? Look, I don’t know what the—” He tried to set a standard for the situation before it escalated further. When José’s fist met Franco’s mouth Antha turned from the riot, too afraid to look. The sound of knuckles crashing against teeth was enough visual for her.

        “Tessa!” She called again as she pulled herself up to get her sister. Tessa was called by the men too as if insisting she bear witness to their fury.

        The passenger door groaned open and all that could be seen was a blur of white as Tessa hopped out and bolted from the parking lot and into the corn fields. With a surge of adrenaline Antha found her feet rushing as fast as they could after her sister. The shoddy bar and its watered-down drinks fell away from her like dead weight as the fear set in that her sister was running into the great unknown without her full faculties.

        The broken corn stalks and uneven ground was all she could follow—the only evidence to lead her to her fleeing sibling. The men brawling sounded distant like a dream from another time; everything, the whole night, was forgotten as Antha called for her lost other-half. She took a sharp left, listening, unable to trust her eyes as everything seemed to be moving. The corn stalks swatted back viciously in their disturbance. The further in she ran the more they grew, reaching to the sky, disorienting her and stinging her arms and face—but not like the terror in her chest, her lungs burned with her efforts. She didn’t know how long she had been running.

        Then there was silence.

        Antha stopped for a moment, unsure where to go, the stalks holding fast like bodyguards, reminding her she didn’t belong there. You’re lost, she swore someone whispered to her. She turned to find no one. “TESSA?” She called. Complete silence. All of her hackles raised as the realization set in that she might end up on the six o’clock news and not be around to watch it. The breeze could barely pass through the crop. “Tessa?” She cried as she desperately looked for those white cut-offs that encased her precious sister.

        She slowly moved forward as the thought occurred to her that they might not be alone. Momma, please I’ll never do anything wrong again! Please help me find her—I swear I didn’t mean to lose her—I swear to you and to God I’ll donate more to the church, I’ll never say the f-word again! I swear— Antha’s internal prayer was cut off as the ground suddenly left her, or rather she left it. After spewing the words she swore she’d never say again, she found herself in a rut. She looked above her head to see the corn stalks leering down at her, as she pulled herself from knotted roots and mud.

        The ground had cut away and she could barely see in the dark the massive crater-sized drop. She looked about with nothing but a freckling of stars and clouded moonlight to her aid. She searched for a way up, but could find none. “Tess—” She began but her voice died in her throat as something moved a few feet off from where she stood. She approached carefully—it could be Tessa, it could be a rabbit, or the Boogey Man—perhaps all of the above. Even the Boogey Man wouldn’t be out in this Delaware heat, she thought to herself, her internal monologue attempting to keep her panic at bay.

        She continued further and swore she saw light through the foliage and dank terrain. Antha followed the specks of light, frightened of what she might find, but too scared to stay in place. She prepared her fists but lost her gumption as a whimper sounded. She thought it was herself at first, but then realized the brush was shuddering and crying. Cautiously she pulled back a branch and found the iconic hot-pants, dirtied and shivering. “Tessa!” She excitedly whispered and threw her arms around her sister.

        “Ant, is that you? I’m so lost—where are we?” She sniffed, dazed and confused.

        “I’m here! I’m here!” She kept whispering and pushing her braids back, inspecting her face and limbs. Tessa’s expression was alien; whatever she had taken was in full affect now. She vomited in the shrubbery next to her. When she was done emptying her stomach, Tessa turned to her sister petrified and pointed. Before Antha could turn she heard a smooth voice cut through the dark.

        “You seem to be lost.” The metal click of a shot gun being cocked and readied trumped all of the twin’s senses—that was until the cool tip of the barrel met the base of Antha’s skull.

Twinning Taglist: If you want to be added or removed just let me know; please share with anyone that might be interested. I would love any and all feedback so I can learn and become a better writer. Thank you!  I tagged some people that I thought would be interested in this. @myoxisbroken @just-the-hiddles @vodka-and-some-sass @nildespirandum @yespolkadotkitty @latent-thoughts @emeraldrosequartz @villainousshakespeare @hopelessromanticspoonie @caffiend-queen @poetic-fiasco @lokimostly @dianamolloy @marvelgirlonamarvelworld @brightsunanddarkmidnight2-0 @cateyes315 @mooncat163 @nuggsmum @myraiswack @wolfpawn​ @plastic-heart​

Bottom image Credit: https://images.app.goo.gl/Tq153Yhn2DsyBq296

[prairiesongserial]

15.3

“Jo,” Enis said, slamming down the hood of the truck with as much strength as his skinny body allowed. “Can I talk to you?”

The caravan had stopped for the time being, with most of the circus choosing to stay put in their trucks rather than take their chances milling about in the heat. Or take their chances on muties - the road was surrounded by dense forest, and there was no telling what was in there. Johannes had gone down the line of trucks and instructed a handful of people to be ready with fireworks, just in case anything needed scaring off. Even anything mundane, like a bear.

“Sure,” Johannes said, leaning up against the side of the truck, perhaps inadvisably. It rocked a little on the jack, the metal creaking, and he leaned back.

“Away from everyone?” Enis asked, somewhat pointedly.

Johannes paused for a moment, looking Enis up and down. Enis had gotten to his feet, and was shifting his weight uneasily, hands shoved deep in the pockets of his coveralls. He couldn’t meet Johannes’s eye. His bottom lip was pulled between his teeth, and he kicked at the asphalt of the road with the toe of one boot, scattering loose dirt and pebbles. Enis had never had much of a poker face, but this was bad, even for him.

“Enis,” Johannes said, catching his gaze and holding it when Enis’s head snapped up to look at him. “Is it that serious?”

“Uh,” Enis said. “I think so.”

“Okay.” Johannes wrapped an arm around Enis’s shoulders, steering him by force away from the truck and towards the tree line. They could still be watched from there, of course, but at least it would offer a modicum of privacy - and with their backs turned to the rest of the circus, no one could read their lips.

“Tell me,” he prompted Enis, after glancing over his shoulder to make sure no one’s eyes were directly on the two of them.

“It’s the brake fluid,” Enis said. His voice had a nervous sort of shake to it, even when kept as low as a stage whisper. “Someone drilled a hole in the reservoir, Jo, I - that’s not the kind of thing that happens on accident. Not something that clean.”

“No, it doesn’t,” Johannes agreed, grimly.

Enis swallowed, Adam’s apple bobbing in his skinny throat. “It wasn’t me. I swear.”

“Why -” Johannes began, somewhat incredulous, then paused and started over. “Enis, what reason would you ever have to cut the brakes of one of our trucks?”

“I wouldn’t,” Enis hissed. “But whoever did this, and the thing that happened to the trailer - those are both things I could’ve done. Someone might’ve even stolen my tools to do it!”

“What, to frame you?”

“Yes,” Enis said. He squirmed a little in Johannes’s grip. “You’re not listening to me.”

Johannes squeezed his shoulder, gently. “Of course I’m listening to you.”

“You’re not,” Enis said. His volume had risen steadily from soft back to normal, and was rapidly getting louder. “Someone’s trying to hurt other people here and make it look like I was the one who did it, and I -”

“Didn’t do it,” Johannes cut in. “Obviously.”

“Nobody else knows that!”

Johannes thought of the self-sure conviction on Ezra’s face when they’d argued about Enis in the truck. There were potential implications there he didn’t want to think about yet, not when they were in the middle of another crisis. He decided to tuck the suspicion into his back pocket and keep it there, for the time being.

“Plenty of people know that,” he told Enis, instead. “Now. Can you fix the brake line, or is the truck a lost cause?”

Enis’s brow furrowed. “I don’t think I have the right parts. I was hoping to get some things when we stopped -”

“Okay,” Johannes said, running his hands through his hair, pushing it away from his face. It was a little greasy with sweat, and he grimaced at the feel of it. “There should be a town near here, we’ve been passing signs. If we can get the truck down there, maybe they’ve got a mechanic as well as strawberries, peaches, and corn,” Johannes said, hoping Enis would smile at the dig. He didn’t. “Or, if not, there might be -”

“Other cars I can strip for parts?” Enis suggested.

“Sure,” Johannes said. “Okay. Pipe down and let me handle this for a minute.”

Enis stiffened, then relaxed when Johannes let go of him and strode back towards the caravan. Enis didn’t seem to be any more relieved after the conversation they’d had - but Johannes could hardly blame him for that. Whether or not someone was actively trying to frame Enis for sabotaging the caravan, it had been a hell of a week for mechanical disasters almost getting people killed.

“Listen up,” Johannes said, loud enough to draw the attention of the circus, but not loud enough to attract anything in the forest. It was a hard line to walk, but he was used to it. “The truck’s brakes are fucked, but Enis can fix it if the town down the road has the right parts. We can’t all stop here in the middle of the road, or we’re sitting ducks. So the rest of you are gonna go on ahead -”

“Johannes,” Ezra hissed, a little dangerously. Johannes ignored him.

“The rest of you,” he repeated, “will go on ahead, and we’ll catch up. I’m going with Enis.”

Ezra seemed to be the only one perturbed by this. Or at least, the only one perturbed enough that it showed on his face.

“Who -” he started, and Johannes cut him off again.

“You’re in charge, of course. John, Cody, and Friday can ride with you.”

It was a snap decision. One that felt something like insurance, in case Ezra really did have something to do with the brakes being shot. Johannes still couldn’t prove that Ezra was involved, of course, but he knew that Ezra’s sense of self-preservation was at least strong enough that he wouldn’t sacrifice a truck with himself in it.

“Preacher,” Johannes said, meeting eyes with Val over several heads. “You’re with me and Enis.”

Johannes hated thinking like this. He hated placing himself one step ahead of Ezra, using the cunning that unclasped silver watches from the wrists of circus-goers against his own brother. But he didn’t have much of a choice. Ezra wasn’t giving him a choice. Johannes felt a wave of anger wash over him, buzzing underneath his skin, and had to take a second to breathe through it.

Val cut through the crowd, a frown on his face. And Friday was hot on his heels, surely about to share her opinion. Johannes forced an easygoing smile.

“Why does Val have to go with you?” Friday said, elbowing her way in front of the preacher to get the first word in. “What reason could you possibly…”

“There’s no reason for me to go with you,” Val told Johannes, cutting her off. “I’ll go in one of the other trucks. There’s room.”

That was a surprise. And a problem. Johannes couldn’t exactly admit that, while he couldn’t justify dragging all four of them along with him, he could at least make damn sure no one murdered his favorite while he was gone.

“I’ll go with you and Enis instead,” Friday said. “That shouldn’t be a problem.”

Johannes didn’t like how relieved Val looked. He didn’t like how his circus was completely out of control, and how there was a new problem every day, Enis was freaking out, and they’d all been sitting in the middle of the road for more than thirty minutes. 

“I’m thinking of converting to Catholicism,” Johannes said. Val’s eyes, which had been pointedly avoiding Johannes ever since he’d spoken, now locked on him in a glare. Johannes gave him the fake, toothy ringmaster smile. “I’m a poor sinner ready for the spiel. You wouldn’t deny me that.”

Val deflated, like Johannes knew he would.

“Fine,” Val said. He pointedly went to wait by the truck. Then Johannes’s other problem had him by the shirt collar, and suddenly his ear was on Friday’s level.

“You had better make sure he comes back in one piece,” she hissed.

“Believe me, I’m trying,” Johannes said, turning away to follow Val to the truck. “It’s harder than it looks.”

15.2 || 15.4

[jamielea81]

Conversations

Chapter 3

Description: You accompany your friends on a day trip to Animal Kingdom Theme Park where you meet Scott Evans by chance. This one afternoon leads to a year long friendship with both Chris and Scott over text messages and phone calls.

Pairing: Chris Evans x Reader

Warning: Cursing and fluff. I think that’s it.

A/N: Italics are internal thoughts.

Chapter 2

Deciding not to keep the fact the Chris texted you a secret from Scott, you quickly fired off a text to let him know about the exchange. He probably already knew. After all, he did give him your number. But just in case he didn’t know, you wanted to give him the heads up. Not that it would become a regular thing. Of course, it wouldn’t. Sure, the two of you texted for almost two hours last night, but it was probably a one and done kind of thing.

Y/N: Are you just passing out my number to random dudes now?

It was pretty early in the day for you to text him, but you were already at the venue for the Jonas Brothers concert and you weren’t sure what time you’d be home.

After grabbing a beer and picking out a seat in the press box of the arena, you grabbed out your trusty notepad and favorite pen and waited for the show to start.

The boys opened with Rollercoaster which got the crowd pumped, not that it took much to get the screams going. When they sang your favorite song Cool, you couldn’t help but sing along. You recorded yourself singing along with Nick to Jealous, sending it to Jana and then to Scott.

 With traffic, it was close to midnight before you got home. Changing into your pajamas and washing away today’s makeup, you fell into bed. Tomorrow was Sunday and you had nothing on the roster besides writing your review of the concert for Monday’s paper.

You were attempting to read a novel Brooks had recommended to you on your Kindle for the third time that week when your phone buzzed from the night stand.

Scott: Are you home?

Y/N: Yep. All snuggled into my bed.

Not five seconds after you hit send, your phone was ringing.

“Good evening Scott,” you answered.

“Hello Pavarotti. Who knew you had those pipes?” Scott greeted you.

“Pipes? Are you talking about my chest?” Fake shock in your voice.

“Har-har. Did you send your little video performance to my brother?” he asked.

“What? No. Why would I do that? It’s not like we’re friends or anything?”

“So, it was strictly business last night? He just texted to apologize and nothing else?”

Is he a mind reader?

“Well, no,” you hesitated. “But it’s not like I’ll hear from him again. He was just being nice.” You shrugged your shoulders even though you knew he couldn’t see you. You really needed a dog or something for times like these.

“We’ll see. How was the concert?” he asked.

“No. No. No. Let’s back up. What do you mean we’ll see? You can’t just change the subject like that on me.”

Scott chuckled through the receiver. “I just meant that my brother has a habit of not letting people go once he likes them. He said he thought you were funny.”

Hmm. Funny. That’s as good a compliment as any. Chris Evans thinks you’re funny.

You’d have to try really hard not to let that go to your head.

 Scott ended up being right, though you wouldn’t tell him that. Chris didn’t let you go. He technically didn’t have you, not that you would have complained, but he kept texting you. The two of you didn’t chat as often as Scott and you did, but it was more than you would have ever expected.

It started casually enough with him texting you a few nights after reaching out to you the first time.

Chris: It’s my right to be hellish, I still get jealous

Y/N: He sent you the video, didn’t he?

Chris: I have no idea what you’re talking about.

A day or two would go by and you’d get another text similar to the last. Just a random musing reaching out. You never initiated because you still weren’t sure what the two of you were. He was your friend’s brother and you weren’t one to push boundaries.

Chris: If you overnighted me a Mickey Premium Ice Cream Bar, what are the odds it would get to me not melted?

Y/N: Aren’t you in Cali? Can’t you just go to Disneyland or send someone to get you one?

Chris: Send someone 🙄

Chris: I’m in New York for Fallon

Y/N: Oh, fuck, that’s right. Don’t tell Scott I forgot.

Y/N: Most grocery stores sell boxes of the bars now by the way.

Chris: It’s not the same.

Y/N: You’re right.

Chris: Usually am sweetheart.

You’re stomach flipped at the nickname. You wouldn’t be telling Scott about this conversation. Nope, you’d keep that one to yourself.

 It was just after seven when you walked in your door, two grocery bags in hand and your phone ringing in your purse.

“Hold on. Hold on,” you called out as if the person could hear you.

Dropping the bags on the stovetop, your dug into your purse, grabbing your phone, catching the call on what was sure to be the eighth ring.

How many rings before it goes to voicemail?

“Hey Scott,” you answered out of breath.

“Hey Sassy,” he replies. You hear someone repeat the nickname in the background. Chris, maybe. You’re not sure. “Chris and I are having dinner with Jimmy and his wife, so I wanted to give you a quick call. Just wanted to let you know the show was completely a snooze fest, there is no need to watch it.”

“Don’t listen to him Y/N. Watch it. A few times maybe,” you hear Chris say in the background.

You hadn’t talked to him on the phone, only via text. It was kind of weird to hear him say your name. Sure, you exchanged a few words on the ride at Animal Kingdom, but this was…different.

You chuckled at their antics. “Jimmy and his wife. As if I’m on a first name basis with him. Cute,” you replied.

“I don’t know who else you know. You’ve got two Evans brothers as friends, who knows what other friends ya have,” he replied.

“You are a dork. I’ll be sure to watch tonight and give you my notes tomorrow. Have fun Grumpy. Say hi to the other dork for me.”

You hear him tell Chris what you said.

“Bye sweetheart,” Chris shouts.

There goes your stomach again.

“Bye sweetheart,” Scott mocks. You hear a muttered “shuddup” before the call disconnects.

Since the Tonight Show didn’t start until eleven thirty at night, you made sure to be ready for bed before it started. Pajamas on. Check. Teeth brushed. Check. Makeup off. Check. Glass of water on your night stand. Check. Cellphone on hand to harass Scott if need be. Check.

You sent a text to your friend April back in Minnesota to let her know Chris was going to be on. She was a huge Chris Evans fan with a Captain America merchandise collection that could rival any extreme collector. She of course already knew he was going to be on but thanked you anyway. She didn’t know about your new friendship. No. Acquaintanceship with Chris. No one did besides Scott, Jana, and Brooks. It was better to keep it that way.

Chris’ segment was great and you expected nothing less. Revealing that he spoiled the end of Endgame for Anthony Mackie was both funny and sweet. He looked good in his stripped shirt and navy blazer and you expected nothing less in that aspect as well, even if his white sneakers were a little too white for your liking.

When Scott joined Chris on stage to play “Know Your Bro”, you knew the segment was going be hilarious.

The audience as well as yourself were giggling after Scott told the story of Chris pushing him as a child, causing Scott to split his head open resulting in the need to get stitches.

“You know you pushed me. Listen,“ Scott said

“Yeah, but that was between us,” Chris replied, finding it hard to keep his laughter under control.

It was Chris’ turn to tell a story and it was one that you would be sure to bring up in the future. Scott had stomach issues when he was little and for lack of a better word, pooped his pants three times while out skiing with his family. This was not the story Scott expected. You were laughing so hard you were crying. It was great segment. You spent the better part of a half hour searching YouTube for past segments with the two of them.

Before calling it a night, you sent Scott a text knowing you probably wouldn’t get one back tonight.

Y/N: You two should hit the road together. Like a traveling two-man act. I’d pay top dollar to see this act in person!

To your surprise, you did get a text back.

Scott: You couldn’t afford us.

 Traffic was a nightmare with cars on the road at a virtual standstill and you weren’t exactly sure why. Traffic would move a little with your car reaching fifteen miles per hour and then the brake lights would all hit at once again. Really, on I-4 it could be anything causing this back up, but you usually were able to time your day so that you missed most of the congestion. You had a meeting at the office that you couldn’t be late for. Part of the agreement with planning your own schedule was that you had to be at the paper for meetings. This would be the second time you were late in the years you’ve worked there, but you weren’t sure if it was three strikes and you’re out kind of thing. Your phone started to ring, figuring it was the office, your answered it via your steering wheel since it was hooked up to Bluetooth.

“This is Y/N,” you answered.

“Hey sweetheart, it’s Chris.”

There goes your stomach again.

“H-hey Chris. What’s up?”

Chill out. Breath. This is cool. You are cool.

He had never called you before, so this was different.

“Not much. Just wanted to see how you were. Do you have me on speaker phone or something?” he asked.

“Um, kind of. I’m driving.”

“Oh, anywhere fun?”

“Nope, just to the office. What are you up to?” you asked, trying your best not to hit the person in front of you.

“Just hanging out in New York for another day. Not much. Scott disappeared on me, nothing new there.”

“Oh, yeah,” you said, clearly distracted from the stop and go traffic you were stuck in. “Fuck,” you swore under your breath.

Chris laughed out loud which brought you out of your haze. “You okay, Y/N?” he asked.

“I’m sorry. I’m going to be late for a meeting and am stuck in traffic. I really can’t be late.”

Chris didn’t say anything for what felt like a minute and you thought maybe you lost the call.

“What’s the address of your office?” Chris asked.

“Why?”

“Just answer the question Sassy,” Chris teased.

“Now you’re both calling me that?” you chuckled. “Um, it’s six three three North Orange Avenue.”

“How far are you?” he asked.

“Maybe fifteen, twenty minutes probably with this traffic,” you replied.

“I’ll call you back in a few,” he said, ending the call before you could reply.

“Well that was really freaking weird,” you said, turning the volume back up on the radio.

True to his word, Chris called you back about five minutes later.

“When you pull off the freeway, you need to go to five five seven East Amelia Street,” he said.

What?

“Chris, I don’t think you understand. I’m late for work. There’s no time to stop anywhere,” you said, clearly exasperated.

“It’s a bakery. There will be an order there under your name. It’s already paid for and they promised it would be all boxed up and ready for when you arrived.”

“I don’t understand. An order? Chris.”

“If you’re late for something, it’s best to show up with a peace offering. Just trust me sweetheart. Call me later,” he said.

“Okay. Um, thanks, Chris.”

“No problem. We’ll talk soon. Bye,” he said.

 You pulled into the bakery a few minutes later, sure enough, two twelve count boxes of cupcakes were waiting for you. One box was marked vegan. He really did think of everything.

Walking into the conference room was nerve racking to say the least. Your boss James eyed you but didn’t call you out. You set the boxes on the table before taking a seat. Once he finished his thought, you cleared your throat.

“I’m sorry I’m late,” you licked your lips and steadied yourself for the lie. “I wanted to pick up a treat for everyone and it took longer than expected.” You stood up, and got to work opening the boxes. “Please help yourselves,” you said with a smile.

At the end of the meeting, everyone had a smile on their face, including James. There was one cupcake left, you grabbed it out of the box and walked it over to James.

“I won’t tell anyone if you don’t,” you said, placing it in front of him and offering a wink while everyone cleared out of the room.

He offered you a smile before you turned to walk away.

It was just after eight when you picked up your phone to call Chris. You were nervous, so nervous. Even though he was the one to call you first, it was still nerve racking to call him. The two of you had been texting for a couple of weeks, but talking on the phone felt more intimate. Before you could change your mind, you clicked on his contact and the line was ringing.

“Heeeelllo,” he answered.

Immediately he put you at ease. “Hey, you dork,” you replied.

“How’d your meeting go?”

“Much better thanks to you. That was very sweet and really smart thinking on your part,” you said.

He scoffed. “You think so little of me?”

“Well, I was led to believe Scott had all the brains.” You couldn’t help the smile on your face.

He scoffed again. “Wait a minute. Where do you get off lady? Thinkin’ my baby brother has all the smarts. I’ll have you know, I read.” Boston accent on full display.

You started to crack up. You tried to get your breathing under control, but it was coming out as wheezing. He started to chuckle and you shook your head.

“I apologize. Truly. Please forgive me sir.”

“Fine. Fine. As long as you never doubt me again,” he said.

“Never.”

 You went to bed with a smile on your face that night and woke up with one as well. Chris was your friend. As strange as that was, it was true.

Unplugging your phone from the charger, you saw you had a couple of texts from Chris.

Does he ever sleep?

Chris: 'Cause you're too sexy beautiful           And everybody want to taste, that's why, that's why           I still get jealous

Chris: Heading to LA. Have a good day sweetheart.

Chris was your friend. Yep. He was just your friend and you needed to remember that.

Chapter 4

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[weaselle]

As if i would do ANYthing to hurt my dog!!

Today somebody on a bike snarled their opinion on me biking Badger, which in this instance was “I think what you’re doing to that dog is ridiculous”.

And then she was past me. I hate when people do this. It happens to me a few times a year (and even more often to his other owner as she’s obviously a woman, of course). If she had stopped and asked questions, I’m sure I could have addressed her concerns. I also have concerns, because I care deeply about my dog, so I’ve put a lot of thought into how I exercise him. I’m still irked about today’s interaction, so I’m going to break it down for anyone who is curious.

When he was just starting to reach his adulthood, I became aware that our walks were not enough for Badger. To assess this situation, I cleared my schedule one day and walked him for seven hours. We did more than 12 miles. When we got home I was exhausted and within 15 minutes he was asking to go again.

I knew I’d need to run him. He is mostly husky after all. And I am not a runner at all. So I started biking him. But holding the leash seemed dangerous. So I found a solution.

This is the brand I use, after careful consideration. It keeps your dog on the right side of you (so you are between them and traffic) it prevents them from getting in front of the wheel, it leaves your hands free for safety and puts the point of contact lower on the bike (instead of at your handle bars, like if you are holding the leash with your hand) so if they pull to the side they have to drag the tires sideways instead of being able to tip you from the highest point on the bike. This version has springs inside the pipe, so if they do jump sideways after a squirrel or something, there is some shock absorption. Below is a pic of me making use of one with a client, because it worked so well for Badger I used to offer it as an alternative to dog walking

even so, some people still loudly, angrily, self righteously tell me I’m mistreating my dog when they see us out biking. Here are some specific concerns I’ve from people who at least did more than drive by and yell “you’re hurting your dog!” or “that’s animal abuse!” 

“He’s too young”

This is one I get sometimes, because Badger looks just like a husky, but he’s about 1/3 the size. At 6 years old, however, he is a grown ass dog

“It’s too hot to run a dog of that type”

I agree. Usually I get up at 6 or 7 to run him before it heats up, but sometimes I can’t make that happen. For instance today I couldn’t start him until 11am, before the full heat but still quite warm and getting hotter. Given the choice between running him in the heat, or not running him for a second day in a row, I chose to very carefully run him -- we did a shorter distance, I brought plenty of water and his collapsable bowl, we took water breaks in the shade (where I inspected his feet) and instead of staying in the bike lane as usual, I rode him as much as I could on the sidewalk where the lighter pavement heats up less.

“It’s mean to make him run with you / drag him along like that”

Dude. It is his FAVORITE thing. He will, and I have seen this twice, drop a mouthful of chicken and bolt for the door if I pick up his harness and ask him if he wants to go for a bike ride. Sometimes people see him being reluctant to run with me and it’s because we’ve turned around to head home and he wants to run more - the second I turn off of the route home he perks up and surges forward (I’ve tested this). When I had clients, their dogs all LOVED it -- wolves are persistence hunters designed to run a lot, and many dogs are still in touch with the running part of their heritage.

Also, Badger can stop the bike whenever he wants. He stops me to poop, he stops me when there’s a spot he just HAS to pee on, and the rare occasions when it happens, he stops me when he’s too hot or tired and wants to rest. And I’m never dragging him. I feel when he puts resistance on the leash, but just to be sure I look down often and check that the leash is always either lose or pulled forward, never tight back. In fact, if it’s cold and he’s had a day off, he’ll often pull the bike the first half mile... I’ll spend that time using the brakes and never pedaling! For a little 30 pound dog he’s got a lot of torque. 

“It’s too scary / not safe for a dog to run where there are trucks and busses etc”

Okay, first of all, I know my dog and can definitely tell when he is scared or overwhelmed. And second of all, he grew up in downtown San Francisco, and I took him everywhere. He saw a hundred people and ten dogs every time he had to pee. He’s ridden the subway and busses. Construction and people fighting and sirens and crowds and traffic absolutely do not bother my dog.

Also, I do safety drills with him. I leave his harness juuuust loose enough that he can shrug out of it, so if I wreck he doesn’t get dragged along and tangled up with my bike. He knows if the bike falls over and he slips his harness, he is to get on the sidewalk and wait - I have a command for that just in case he doesn’t do it on his own. And we practice: I’ll lean the bike over him or push it over the other way, and he pops out of his harness and gets on the sidewalk. The two times I’ve fallen on my bike, he’s stood there unharmed looking at me as if he thinks I’m an idiot. Every once in a while the bike will fall over off it’s kickstand while I’m picking up poop or something, and it’s the same, but without the judging look.

“That kind of exercise is bad for your dog’s health and body”

So, before we started biking him, we checked with three different vets about the health concerns involved. Mostly it centers around his feet and joints (especially on pavement) and of course one shouldn’t over exert one’s dog or let them overheat - that last one is important because dogs are not typically good at dissipating body heat and can overheat easily. We give him supplements for his joints, inspect his feet often, and pay close attention to him during exercise. And we’re sure to not run him every single day of the week; anything can be bad for you if you do it too much.

I’m extremely into taking proper care of my dog (as you might have guessed by now, lol). I grew up with all kinds of animals, and learned from my parents who are both medical professionals and kept all their animals alive through a lot. Our three dogs from my childhood lived to be 16, 17, and 19 years old, happy and healthy to the end. I would never play fast and loose with my dog’s well being.

Moreover, Badger’s other owner has spent her entire professional life working with dogs and after two years of animal health education is currently a vet tech at a practice where she assists in surgeries and takes care of every kind of dog issue. Badger receives excellent care.

Anyway, thats what I wish I could tell each person who seems to think I’m harming my dog somehow by running him alongside my bike.

[gruntydiecast]

Casting Call: Vector WX-3

Well, it’s been a long time since I’ve written one of these, and now, here comes the second installment of probably my favorite saga to date: the Vector Saga. Thanks to the current situation, the delivery of my car was delayed, but it’s here now, and here we are.

Remember the W8? That wedge-shaped car which I felt was more extreme than the already extreme Lamborghini Countach? It’ll need a worthy successor... and this’ll be it. This... is the Vector WX-3.

First, as usual, a bit of background. The Vector WX-3 was a prototype American sports car manufactured by a company known as Vector Motors, then known as Vector Aeromotive. The car was designed by Gerald “Jerry” Wiegert, founder of Vector Aeromotive. The car was officially known as the AWX-3, standing for Avtech Wiegert Experimental Model 3; the “3” signified that the WX-3 was the third model Vector had made, after the W2 and W8.

The WX-3 was intended to be the successor to the W8, conceived by Wiegert in 1992. The WX-3 was more extreme than the W8 was, featuring three engine configurations, allowing for some ludicrous power that would be even on par with modern hypercar standards.

The beating heart of the WX-3 was intended to be a 7.0L V8 with variable boost for the twin-turbochargers. Yes, this thing had variable boost, just like the W8. This allowed for settings between 600 BHP to a staggering 1,200 BHP, on par with many modern hypercars. The prototypes used the same highly-modified 6.0L Rodeck twin-turbo V8 as seen on the W8.

The car’s interior was also very similar to that of the W8’s, featuring a screen as opposed to analog gauges. The car also featured the same Sony CDX-A2001 ten-disc CD changer gracing the right side of the cockpit as the W8, as well as the same 3-speed Turbo-HydraMatic 425 automatic transmission mated to that beast of an engine; the transmission also had the same fighter aircraft throttle-like device. Vector employees had stated that while the prototypes used the three-across seating arrangement found on certain W8s, it would be more likely that the production WX-3 would use two bucket seats.

The car also featured the same scissor door setup as the W8.

Rear visibility on the WX-3 still wasn’t too great, although it was a marked improvement over the practically non-existent rear visibility of the W8. The rear of the car looks a lot more subdued compared to the front. As usual, it appears the location of the license plate holder was likely an afterthought.

The WX-3 also incorporates what I guess could be considered a very early version of active aero systems, featuring two movable flaps which lifted up when the car was braking, acting as an airbrake.

The WX-3 was first shown off at the 1992 Geneva Motor Show, although at first, strictly a design study, sans engine. The car was originally painted silver. After the car returned from Geneva, a related car joined it: the WX-3R.

The WX-3R was essentially the roadster version of the WX-3, with both sharing mechanical components and similar styling. However, the WX-3R featured dual bucket seats as opposed to the three-abreast seating of the WX-3 and was painted purple.

The WX-3 and WX-3R were then both displayed at the 1993 Geneva Motor Show, with the WX-3 having been repainted into aquamarine; this was done to promote another of Wiegert’s companies, Aquajet, a manufacturer of personal watercrafts, as the Aquajet logo featured aquamarine and purple as its primary colors. In fact, both the WX-3 and WX-3R appeared on the Aquajet website; however it appears the website is currently broken and will require an archival tool such as the Wayback Machine to access.

The WX-3 was intended to be put into production in 1993; however, problems began to surface. 

In 1993, as Wiegert was preparing for production of the WX-3, a rather shady Indonesian company with Bermudan ties named MegaTech forced a hostile takeover of Vector Aeromotive; this ultimately led to the firing of Wiegert from his own company. MegaTech then attempted to produce the WX-3, but Wiegert sued the company and copyrighted his own design, so MegaTech could not produce the WX-3. Ironically, this would also spell the end of the WX-3; only two were produced.

Wiegert eventually regained control of the company and has been working on a new car known as the WX-8 for numerous years now; in fact, it’s been so long we may as well call it developmental hell. The WX-3 and WX-3R also came back under Wiegert’s ownership. However, in order to fund development of the WX-8, Wiegert decided to auction off both the WX-3 and WX-3R at a Sotheby’s auction in 2019; both cars were ultimately auctioned off in mid-January 2019, with the WX-3 fetching $617,500 and the WX-3R fetching $500,000. Both are now in the hands of private collectors.

Prior to the auction, the WX-3 appeared in an episode of the Burke’s Law reboot and was also spotted at various car shows.

Okay, now that we’ve gotten all that out of the way, let’s get to the reason why you’re here.

This… is the Hot Wheels version of the Vector WX-3. Named the Vector “Avtech” WX-3 in the Hot Wheels lineup, this casting was first introduced in 1993 as a Vector employee exclusive, as shown above; the car was painted in the silver color that was originally on the actual car. Only 500 of this version was produced. This casting, like many other castings designed throughout the ‘80s and ‘90s, was designed by Larry Wood.

A more common version, painted in the purple as seen on the real WX-3R, was released the same year. A version exists of the purple version with normal 5SP wheels.

The WX-3 has a plastic roof which is riveted onto the rear. No back window is present. This casting features notably very few tampos, apart from the Vector logo on the wing and the black semicircle on the door intended to represent the lower window. The side vents are noticeable open and one can peer through them.

For the record, there isn’t very much going on in the rear of this casting either. Just the rear mesh grill, taillamps and triangular exhaust pipes.

The WX-3 has one of the least releases of any supercar or hypercar concept made by Hot Wheels around this period, with only five known releases. The casting was retooled slightly in 1997, with the prominent side vents closed off. This would ironically be the casting’s last release to date, in the Super Show Cars 5-Pack in 1997 (a version exists with open side vents, shown below), alongside the Dodge Viper RT/10, Jaguar XJ220, Avus quattro and Zender Fact 4. A few other combinations of the 5-Pack exist but this is the only one containing the Vector.

As mentioned above, this casting has not been seen since 1997; it has not been featured in any edition of the Final Run Series, but is assumed to have been retired since the casting has not appeared in the mainline for over 20 years and is unlikely to return.

I hope this long writeup has given you a better idea on this turbocharged thrasher, and what is quite possibly my new favorite supercar from the ‘90s; step aside, Ferrari F50. As usual, I’d do something like this any day.

This article is the second in a three-part series I will call The Vector Saga. The series will document the W8, the WX-3, and the history of Vector Motors as a whole.

[haddonfieldproject]

<<PREVIOUS⏺<<CONTENTS>>

1.2.23 HALLOWEEN NIGHT/NOVEMBER 1ST 5:51 AM

Warren County, Illinois

Diego stopped walking and hit the little light on the side of his watch and looked at it. ‪5:51.‬

When will this stupid rain stop? He thought, beginning to walk again.

He hated this part of the walk. The trailer park he lived in with his mom was out in the middle of nowhere, and this time of year, when it was still dark in the early mornings, you couldn't see anything out here. Leighton dropped him off most nights, but he didn't have the heart to have her come pick him up this early. I don’t think we’ve reached that phase of our relationship yet, he smiled to himself.

It's cool, he thought, only three more paychecks and then I can put a down payment on a new ride.

🎃

Gabriel Couture had been dozing. He would never have admitted it to anyone, certainly not his wife and definitely not any other trucker, even though every single one of them had at one time or another caught themselves starting to doze on a long haul. Just like any other time, you only knew you were dozing when you woke up and things were different than when they were just a moment ago.

His favorite program on the radio had just ended and the station was now airing the morning news. A man had been on there talking about some serial killers from Mississippi when all of a sudden he had heard an electronic beeping noise, and now there was a girl on the radio talking about where to go to get the best “tropical tan and bikini wax”.

That means it had been at least thirty seconds that Gabriel had been drowsing behind the wheel.

Very scary, he thought.

He thought of that video in trucking school they had shown him about the distance the truck traveled when you merely took your eyes off the road long enough to shoot a glance at the Qualcomm screen. It was like two football fields or something like that.

The Qualcomm had been the thing responsible for the electronic beeping. A robotic woman's voice came through the speakers, temporarily cutting out the commercial audio on the radio:

“You have....thirty...minutes...left in your legal time to drive. Please make arrangements to pull over.”

Good thing I only got about fifteen minutes left, Gabriel thought and picked up the can of Monster Energy drink that sat in his cup holder. He shook it, hearing a few drops of liquid at the bottom of the can, he put it to his mouth and stuck his tongue out to catch the last precious bit.

It was warm and tasted like piss.

🔪

“Why do you have to live so far out in the middle of fucking nowhere!?” Kyndra groaned, checking her phone for the time.

Brad wasn't listening, he was wiping the inside of the windshield with a Liberty Burger wrapper he had found in the center console of the Mustang. “God damn I can't see shit!” He hissed.

“Well, you're the one who wanted to smoke a damn bowl in the car,” Zoey said, “It's raining like crazy and we couldn't open the window to let the smoke out, what did you think was going to happen?”

“I didn't think it would fog up like this,” Brad said, turning the control on the dash from hot to cold.

“Stop playing with that and watch the road,” Kyndra snapped.

“I'm trying to defrost the window!” He roared back.

“Well it doesn't matter if it's hot or cold air, it's still gonna clear the window,”

“That's not true, it needs hot air!” Brad yelled.

“It's fucking roasting in here,” Kyndra turned the dial back to cold.

“I'm pretty sure you need cold air to clear the window,” Zoey said.

The mustang hydroplaned and this time it seemed like Brad barely caught hold of it. Zoey fell to the side on the backseat and the pipe rolled off her lap and hit the floorboards with a clang. Kyndra screamed.

“My pipe!” Bellowed Brad.

“I got it...” Zoey's muffled voice came from the back.

“Watch the fucking road!” Kyndra yelled. She wiped the windshield with the arm of the sweatshirt Brad had let her borrow.

🎃

Gabriel stretched his neck and caught the sight of the headlights out of his passenger mirror. His first thought was that it had to be a cop by the way they were moving. He had seen plenty of cops on the road that night, most in a big hurry, most with their lights on, and most had passed him. He took his foot off the gas and prepared to be passed by this one now, only it came right up on him and paused.

He could see from the lights it wasn't a cop. It was a sports car of some sort...looked kind of old. It eased closer until it was directly behind his trailer and out of sight from his mirrors. The only thing that made his presence known was the halo of light that now shone in both mirrors emanating from either side of his cab.

Gabe blinked a few times to try and perk up a little.

Stupid tailgaters, he thought.

🔪

Zoey popped up from the backseat. “Got it,” she held up the pipe. “It had rolled under the....shit watch out!”

“I know..I know” Brad said, easing off the gas, his foot turned slightly to the left to cover the brake, but even he knew better than to mash it hard in the rain.

Kyndra put her hand up on the ceiling of the Mustang as the trailer of a semi-truck emerged from the veil of rain to dominate the view beyond their slowly un-fogging windshield.

“I got double lines,” Brad murmured, “When I get the dotted line I'll pass him.”

Kyndra looked at him like he had three eyes, “What? You're not going to fuckin' pass him now! Not in this rain.”

“You said we needed to hurry!” Brad snarled.

“We're already late,” Zoey said, “No reason to kill us.”

“God I fucking hate semitrucks!” Brad moaned.

🎃

“Jeez Lloyd! I can't barely see a dang thing!” Lee whined, he was elbows up on the steering wheel, looking so far ahead through the rain drops, his forehead was nearly touching the glass of the windshield.

Lloyd sat on the passenger seat next to him, calmly counting the cash he had pulled in fistfuls from Raj Gudipati's cash register.

“I know brother,” he said calmly, not looking up, “I've been driving in the shit all night.”

“It looks like it's raining even harder now!” Lee said.

Lloyd ignored him. “Jesus fuck!” he moaned, tossing the cash into the glove compartment. “Seventy eight dollars and sixty four cents! That's all that Indian fucker had on him in the whole register.”

“He probably has to do cash drops every hour like we had to at the restaurant.” Lee said.

“No shit,” Lloyd said, picking up the pack of Marlboros in the center console, pulling one out, and lighting it. “Whole world's going to be computerized before you know it. Computers gonna tell us when to eat, when to shit, when to fuck...you watch!”

Lee goofy-laughed, “I saw a show on TV that said it was a sign of the apocalypse.”

“Damn right,” Lloyd said, taking a drag. He cracked his window a bit to blow the smoke out. The whooshing sound of rain filled the cab, drowning out the music. Some water dripped on his right shoulder so he scooted closer to his brother. “We are in the last days little brother.”

“Amen to that.” Lee replied.

Lloyd turned up the radio to block out the rain.

🔪

I wish he'd just pass me, Gabriel thought.

He knew the person behind him wouldn't because of the double lines, but he didn't care. Nothing made a trucker nervous like some jackass so far up his rear he couldn't see him in the mirrors.

Maybe if I slow down a little, he'll get tired and just go around me. He thought and backed off the gas.

🎃

“God what the fuck!” Brad moaned and slightly leaned on the brake.

“Chill out Brad, it's okay.” Zoey said calmly from the back. She had extended her hand and Kyndra was now holding it.

“What the fuck is he slowing down for?”

“Who cares Brad, just chill, we're turning off up here anyway.” Kyndra said. She closed her eyes, she didn't want to watch anymore.

“We haven't even reached the Superfuel yet!”

Zoey and Brad made eye contact in the rear-view mirror. “Stop,” she mouthed.

Brad took a deep breath and sighed.

🔪

“That's right,” Gabriel chuckled to himself. “Take a little bit of that.”

His speedometer fell from 45 to 30. Any slower and he was going to have to downshift. The headlights behind him peaked out the passenger side and then the driver's side mirror. He was poking out for a peak around him.

He's gonna pass any second. Gabriel thought.

The lights peaked again.

“Awww...you're a Mustang,” Gabriel saw. Probably '77 '78...looked orange, but it was hard to tell in the dark and rain. Could have been red.

Whatever, Gabriel thought, Ford's suck...now just pass me.

Headlights coming toward them caught his eyes. His foot moved to cover the brake.

🎃

Lights seemed to appear all around Diego at once—as if a UFO was landing on top of his head. Diego looked behind him and saw the headlights of a truck coming. He knew in almost a second it was the truck that had pulled in to the Superfuel Deluxe as he had been leaving. He remembered the bluish tint to the headlights. In front of him, coming up the hill were the lights of a tractor-trailer. Diego side stepped off the pavement and into the grass. His shoe sank down into a deep dark puddle with a splash and he felt his shoe fill with water.

Awww man, he thought.

🔪

“I can't take it anymore!” Brad roared and stomped the gas, cutting the steering wheel to the left.

“No Brad!” Zoey roared. Kyndra felt Zoey's hand clench hers and she opened her eyes.

🎃

Lee and Lloyd had seen the truck, and had really thought nothing of it, even though they probably should have. Most every trucker in the area had heard their truck's description by now on their CB Radio and was on the lookout for them.

Lee was just trying to concentrate on keeping in his own lane as the big rig passed, and Lloyd was leaning forward to ash his cigarette when the two headlights of an orange 1978 mint condition Ford Mustang darted out in front of them from behind the trailer.

The truck and the mustang hit each other head on without even braking. Ordinarily a truck that size would have split open a sports-car like a can of tuna-fish, but the Mustang was old, with a big hood and a strong chassis. Instead, the front of the mustang sort of slid underneath the truck, the bumper of which crunched down on top of the windshield. Brad had been leaning forward to be able to see and the steal bumper of Booger's truck exploded his head like a watermelon. Kyndra's legs were cut off at the thighs as the weight of the truck sliced down into the cab like one of those knives in that infomercial Brad was sleeping through only hours before. The top half of Kyndra's body lifted, hit the roof, flipped over her headrest, and fell into the backseat.

Zoey had taken off her seat-belt earlier to find the pipe. Her body flew forward as if shot out of a cannon, crashing through the windshield which diced her up like a wood-chipper, seconds before the weight of the truck pulverized every bone she had in her body above the waist. She had instinctively raised her arm at the last moment to cover her face and her left hand was torn from her body and plopped on the floor in front of the passenger seat, right between her girlfriend's feet.

Neither Lloyd or Lee Chumway had been wearing their seat-belts. Lloyd had been leaning forward, ashing his cigarette, so he had catapulted forward immediately, exiting through the windshield at the same moment the airbag deployed. The airbag caught him at ‪the shins‬ and merely slowed his launch, causing him to bounce off the back windshield of the Mustang, his body rolling about forty yards across the highway, before coming to a rest in the center of the road atop the double yellow lines. Lee's body had shot forward but the airbag deployed, shoving him back into the seat. Unfortunately for him, the force of the collision forced his head to snap back, causing a basalar skull fracture in the back of his head and neck. He slumped over against the driver's side window as blood began to pour from his nose, ears, and eyes.

🔪

The collision occurred directly outside the driver's side door of Gabriel's truck and he instinctively jerked his steering wheel to the right and slammed down on the brake. His tractor wheels locked up, the pilot tire on the passenger side struck a muddy rut on the shoulder of the road. This broke the front axle of the tractor immediately. The trailer did not respond to the sudden drop in speed very well, this on top of the fact that he was running empty...and therefore light.

The trailer hitch compressed into the fifth wheel, the back six wheels came off the ground about eight inches and then bounced like basketballs for nearly six feet before beginning a tilt and skid to the left. This caused enough torque to pull the trailer on it's side, taking the cab with it. Gabriel was pulled over, his head smacked his driver's side window, knocking him unconscious immediately, and shattering his left shoulder and arm.

🎃

Diego didn't have time to react as the trailer slid toward him. He dove to the left, but the roof of the trailer caught him while he was airborne, smacking him like a tennis racket hits a tennis ball. Diego was thrown into the trees, striking a sycamore upside-down about three feet off the ground. He bounced off the massive trunk and landed face down about four feet in front of the tree line in a large patch of standing water. His heart stopped as soon as he had hit the tree and he was dead before he even hit the puddle.

The trailer continued to drag across the road and unto the shoulder, slicing a mile marker sign in two, the jagged stump of the stake that held it into the ground lacerated the fuel tank of the tractor as it followed it's own trailer's skid through the muddy grass. The soft earth broke the truck's speed, bringing it to a stop about ten feet away from Diego's head. Diesel fuel mixed with oil and gasoline from Booger McFarlane's truck and Brad Doyle's mustang ran across the road like a river and pooled around Diego's body which had created a depression in the earth.

Brad Doyle's lighter, with the skulls on it, was perched precariously in his lap, and had amazingly remained that way throughout the entire accident. As a result of basically losing his own head and brain however, his right leg went into a short, but violent spasm about five minutes after the accident, thrusting into the gas pedal, releasing more fuel into the road in a gush. The lighter fell from his lap, slicing through a gash in the floorboards that had opened up when the front end structure of the vehicle had been partially torn from the frame. The lighter struck the asphault below and aresulting spark ignited the trail of fuel underneath the Mustang. A snake of fire raced across the surface of the highway and exploded Diego's body into flames.

This burned only mere moments however, the fire was promptly extinguished by the extreme deluge of rain that continued to pound down on central Illinois. The vehicles had not had time to catch, and soon, everything was silent and still..except for the sounds of the storm.

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