#but as a kid we would sometimes get this donut that was split in half and had marshmellow inside its was amazing

[secret--psalms--saturn]

Hey reblog this and tell me your favourite donut

[cocochannel00]

Divorce Papers

Sometimes it can all get a little too much being the wife of Harry Styles... 

Kids: Connor (2), Rebecca/Becca (1)

You couldn't lie to yourself anymore. Harry had been touring for the last 5 month and you were at home with two kids under the age of 3. He rarely called, barley visited home, and was always being photographed and big glitzy parties with a bunch of supermodels. At first, you didn't worry, you and Harry were married after all so there really was no worry, but as time went by you became more and more anxious about the situation. His calls went from daily to once a week at most. At first, you thought it was just the jet lag or the time zones that made it difficult but after hearing from him once in a matter of weeks and being forced to text Jeff to get updates on your husband’s whereabouts, you there was a problem.

You understood it was his job to go tour across the world wherever they sent him but you also knew that Harry was responsible for being a father to your children and that was one thing he was not fulfilling. It was always hard to raise toddlers so close in age but when you have to raise them alone because your husband is MIA, the situation could only get worse from there. Luckily Connor always slept through the night, but Becca would start screaming every few hours with no one to help you, it was starting to take a toll on you. Gemma, Harry's sister, tried to make up for her brother’s absence but it wasn't the same.

You were starting to think your marriage was crumbling. Your friends always said it was going to be hard as marrying a celebrity always came with a high price but you had always believed that love conquers all, although this idea was starting to slip away. You had spent the last 5 months thinking strongly on how to fix this problem but you soon realized that Harry had put in zero effort and went on as if nothing was wrong. This always led to the question, Is it even worth fixing at this point? You didn't know but you would soon find out.

After waking up to your alarm clock going off at 8:00 a.m. you rolled out of bed and went to the bathroom to freshen up an pee. Becca had just begun teething and you were nearly at your wits end having to cuddle her to bed every 2 hours. You manage to avoid waking her up as you crept downstairs to make yourself some breakfast peacefully before Gemma came over to spend the day with you and your kids. You started brewing some coffee as you desperately tried to keep your eyes open. Putting some bread in the toaster you sat at your island in silence, contemplating moving whether to move at all from that spot all day. As you sat there you suddenly heard feet hitting the floor upstairs as your son slowly made his way down the stair.

"Connor, what are you doing up buddy?" You asked as you picked him up in your arms, giving him a peck on the cheek.

"breakfast mama," he said in his broken English as he pointed at his high chair.

"Ok buddy let's get you something to eat," you said as you grabbed a box of Cheerios and some milk, pouring it all into a bowl. Your doorbell rang just as you finished finding him a spoon and placing a bib around his neck.

Slowly you walk over to the door revealing Gemma standing there with a bag of pastries and chocolate donut (Connor’s favorite).

"Well you look like shit," she said as she walked past you. You rolled your eyes and followed her, closing the door on the way in.

She removed the bowl of cheerios from his table and placed the donut down in-front of Connor as he clapped happily.

Gemma placed a kiss on his forehead before turning around to look at you, "still no call?" She asked quietly. 

That had been the million-dollar question for the past two and a half weeks. No call, no text, no word from Harry. You heard nothing about how the tour was going or when he would have his next break. He had essentially cut off all communications and it was ruining you slowly.

You shook your head looking away, trying not to cry about Harry's lack of presence. Gemma swore under her breath and came up to you, giving you a tight hug.

"(Y/n) I know how bad this is and I know how much you love Harry but you can't keep going like this. You've reached your breaking point and this has become an unhealthy relationship. I love my brother with all my heart and I don’t know why he’s doing this but as your friend, I can’t see you like this"

She was right. You had lost at least 10 pounds from the stress and anxiety that Harry was causing you and you knew it needed to come to an end.

"I know but I don't know what to do. I love him, but I can't reach him. I'm basically losing my mind and I don't know how to stop it all" you stated.

She stayed quiet for a minute before quietly asking, "have you thought about a divorce at all?"

In truth you had a couple of times before when it was three in the morning and Becca would scream out for her daddy and you knew there was nothing you could do, but it always felt too extreme.

"Yeah it's crossed my mind a couple times...... but I could never do it I don't think. I love him so much and I can't be alone again, I really can't." You whispered as your eyes began to gloss over.

Gemma wrapped her arms around you tightly. "Shhh, it's going to be ok. Tell you what why don't you come with the kids to my house for a bit and stay there so you’re not alone. I can talk to Michal and see if his friend John can draft up some divorce papers with you... nothing to sign but just to see what it would entail. Did you guys sign a prenup at all? " she asked as you wipe your tears with the edge of your sleeves.

You shook your head, “No, I offered to sign one for him but he refused. Regardless, I don’t want his money, that’s not why I married him”

“I know love, I know. It complicates the situation a bit but nothing that can’t be dealt with later. Besides, you know Harry is going to give you at least half of his earnings if not more regardless of if you want it. He worries about you.” Gemma adds.

“I wish he would at least talk to me if he’s so worried” you mumbled as you heard cries come from the baby monitor sitting on the kitchen counter.

“Let’s take it one step at a time. I’ll call Michal and why don’t you go get Becca” Gemma stated as you went over to wipe the chocolate off of Connor's giddy face as you made your way up the stairs. 

You slowly entered Becca’s room and greeted her with a soft ‘good morning’ as you reached her arms out to you from her crib. You smiled at your baby girl who had seemed to have woken up in a better mood than yesterday. You battle with Becca down the stairs as she attempts to take off your shirt by swatting at your boob (a sign that she’s hungry). 

"Connor says he wants to have a sleepover with me so it has been decided that you’re all staying over at my house” Gemma cheered as Connor giggled in her arms. 

“Gemma, really it’s ok. I don’t want to burden you or Michal” you replied

"Nonsense! Michal loves having these little gremlins and you around. I’ll take Connor up with me and we’ll start packing a bag for him while you feed Rebecca. We have the crib from when Michal’s godson stayed with us a couple of weeks ago so we can move that into the guestroom for you. I'll go call Michal and tell him to come help and we'll be ready in no time!" she said began to make her way upstairs.

"Ok, thanks Gem” you replied as you sat down on the couch with your fussy baby, getting ready to feed her. 

                     ------------------------------------------------------------------

*6 hours later*

After changing Becca and double-checking that you had your purse, you and Gemma got into your car and made the 20-minute drive to Gemma and Michal’s house. Michal being the angel that he is had offered to bring all the bags in his car and drive them over. By the time you got to their house, all your bags were set up in the guest room and the crib Rebecca would be sleeping in was set up in the corner of the room. 

After you had all settled in, Gemma took Connor outside to play in the sprinkler while Becca took a nap upstairs. You sat in the living room with Michal as he began to explain the papers his friend had drafted for you. 

"I'm not gonna lie, this is going to be a long process that will bring out the worst in both of you. Custody will be a major part as well as splitting of assets and money."

You shook your head "I don't want any money. I didn't marry him for money so I'm not going to divorce him for any" you stated

He nodded as he began correcting the forms and continued to explain the legal process as well as the custody procedures. After almost two hours of staring at twenty pages of legal papers, you were finally starting to understanding it all (sort of). Rebecca had woken up ten minutes ago and was now sitting on your lap moving her head every time her name was mentioned. Gemma had brought Connor inside and helped him take a bath and they were watching a movie in her room as you and Michal finished up. You were going over the final details when the doorbell rang. Gemma got up from the couch and went to open it when you suddenly heard some shouting and a pair of rough footsteps heading towards the living room.

You looked up to see none other the Harry who looked both worried and furious at the same time.

"I came home expecting to see my children and wife but I come home to an empty house and a note saying you were gone" he shouted as you sat there in shock, seeing your husband for the first time in months. 

Rebecca whined softly as she became irritated from the loud boom of Harry's voice. Michal quickly stood and rested his hand on your shoulder signaling that he would take Becca upstairs so we could talk. You carefully passed Rebecca off to Michal as Connor came barreling towards Harry. 

“Dada Dada” Connor shouted as his chubby body knocked right into Harry’s legs. 

“Hi baby, I’ve missed you” he replied as he picked up Connor in his arms and showered him with kisses. 

“You should be ashamed of yourself Harry Edward Styles. If mom were here right now she’d have an absolute fit at your behavior. You’re so lucky (Y/n) won’t let me tell her because she would have flown out to whoop your ass. Come on Connor want to go watch the wiggles upstairs” Gemma stated as she grabs Connor from Harry’s arms. 

“wiggles wiggles” Connor cheered as Gemma and Michal carried your kids upstairs.

“If you so much as yell at her Harry I will murder you” Gemma yelled from the top of the stairs. 

Once they were gone you slowly got up from the couch and cleaned up all the papers scattered around the coffee table. As you began placing them in a folder Harry snatched them and began reading through them.

"Divorce papers? Are you serious? I've been gone for my job, a job I have to support you and the kids, and you want to divorce me for it?" He questioned as his anger started to bubble up.

You sighed, "that's not the reason Harry and you know it. It was just an idea Gemma had mentioned so I was looking into it. Besides, I would be divorcing you for neglecting not only me but our family for the last 5 months. Harry, I love you but this isn’t right"

"I had to work (Y/n), what part of that did you not understand?" he shouted as he dropped the papers on the floor. 

"The part where you stop calling your family for months and spend your spare time on yachts with supermodels instead of coming to see your children. I shouldn’t have to ask your manager how you’re doing, you should be telling me" you yell back

He chuckles angrily, "Is that what this is about, you think I cheated? I didn't, but if that’s what you want I'll get right on it? Would that solve your problems?" He replied sarcastically.

Your eyes began to water at the idea Harry described and you pressed your fingers to your eyes as to prevent yourself from crying in front of him. " Harry I love you but if that's how you truly feel then maybe we shouldn't have gotten married in the first place" you stated

"Maybe you're right" he stated as he turns around and stomps towards the kitchen. You let out a shaky breath as you watch him leave. This was not the way you thought your day was going to turn out. 

You began picking up the divorce papers as you hear a cry come from upstairs. Carefully you wipe the tears from your eyes and started to make your way up to go get Becca. You walked into the master bedroom to find Connor fast asleep on Michal’s lap while Gemma attempts to calm Becca down by rocking her back and forth in the corner.

When they spot you in the doorway, Michal gives you a sympathetic smile while Gemma’s frown deepens. You smile in return and pick up Becca from Gemma's arms and walk out of the room. You go to the guest room quickly to grab her favorite blanket and walked downstairs. You can hear Harry pacing in the kitchen, the pile of divorce papers missing from the floor most likely with him. You cautiously made your way to the glass door in the back of the living room and stepped outside into the slightly chilly night, bundling yourself and Becca up in the plush purple blanket Harry had bought Becca when she was born. You turned on the patio light and made your way to Gemma's garden to the small swing standing in the middle of it. 

You stay there crying as you rock Becca to sleep in your arms. A while later you heard footsteps slowly approach the garden and feel the weight of the swing shift as someone sits next to you. You don't dare look up as the smell of cologne gives away that it's Harry. He clears his throat a couple of times before speaking.

"Why wouldn't you take any of my money?" He asked quietly as he folded the divorces papers

You wiped your tears slowly and took a deep breath before responding, "because I didn't marry you for your money so why should I divorce you and get it. I married you because I love you"

"You need the support. I would give you all the money in a heartbeat you know that" he mumbled back

"I have a job and some savings, I could support myself and our kids" you stated. You heard him grunt as he flipped through the pages.

"Custody battle? Do you think it would come to that?" He asked quietly as you saw his shoulders shake.

"My babies are my everything....... I can't lose them like I already lost you" you stated as you caressed Becca's cheek.

"You didn’t lose- were you actually going to sign these?" He asked, voice cracking as you watched his hands begin to shake. 

"No" you replied back, barely louder than a whisper. 

Harry let out a breath and timidly let's go of the papers placing them on the ground before wrapping his arm around you carefully.

The minute your head hit his chest you began to cry. Harry quickly took Becca out of your arms and into his chest as you clung to him, sobbing into his shirt. He caressed his free hand up and down your back and placed chase kisses onto your forehead as he whispered sweet words and apologies to you.

You sobs slowly became sniffles as you wrapped your arms around yourself, leaving your head to lean on Harry's shoulders.

"Baby I’m so unbelievably sorry. I didn’t know it had gotten this bad. Why didn't you tell me you felt this way? With all the shows and starting to record the new album, I forgot about the most important thing in my life." He asked as he rubbed circles into your back.

You twiddled with your fingers, "I could never reach you. Every time I tried to call you were busy so I thought, ok he can just call me, but then your calls just got shorter and then they just stopped. I took it as you were busy but even when you had a couple days off you wouldn't come visit. You had basically broken off from us, Harry. I didn't know what to do. I spent most days with Gemma and most nights with a crying Becca keeping me up because all she wanted was her Dada singing her to sleep. I had to play your albums every night to try and get her to calm down and every time your voice played through the speaker, I died inside. It was all too much for me. I was alone Harry and you were nowhere to be found. I want my husband back. I want the man I fell in love with four years ago that use to wake up at 5 am halfway across the globe just to wish me goodnight. I want the man that cried at our wedding as I walked down the aisle. I want the man that tries to sneak chocolate chips into Connor’s pancakes while I’m not watching just to make his baby boy smile. I want my Harry back." you replied as you stared at the ground.

Harry stiffened as you finished speaking. He slowly lifted your chin up to meet your eyes. You could see tears falling down from his eyes as he looked straight at you. You could tell he was hurting and just the thought of him breakdown was making you shatter into a million pieces. You carefully got up from the swing a grabbed Becca from his arms before tucking her head into the nook of your neck as you cautiously sat down on Harry's laps. Harry let out a loud breath before he carefully wrapped his arms around your frame and staring straight into your eyes. 

"I’m right here baby, I’m still your Harry. I love you so much and just the thought of losing you and my babies hurts me more than a bullet ever could. I'm sorry I didn't call but I was so homesick that I figured it would be easier on both of us if I just kept my distance. I figured the check-ins with Jeff would be enough. I know that’s no excuse but I promise baby I’ll be better.  I love you so so much you have no idea (Y/n). I promise I'll be better for you and for our kids just please don't leave me" he said as he hugged you tighter causing a sob to escape your lips.

"I love you too H" you state in between sobs. You both sat there for a while until you had stopped crying. Cautiously Harry lifted your face to look at him.

"Can I rip up those papers when we get back?" He asked timidly as he stared at you.

You nodded furiously and quickly pulled him into a deep kiss. You pulled away breathless as you lean your forehead against his.

"I'm sorry. I shouldn't have taken it that far. I should have just waited to talk with you before asking Michal about them and I..." you tried to continue but Harry stopped you with a kiss.

"Shhh we're going to get through this baby” He whispered as he caressed your hair. 

“We need to go to therapy, Harry. This was a big deal and I don’t think we can slip this under the rug and get back to where we were without it” You mumbled into his neck. 

“Of course (Y/n). I’ll go to therapy every day for the next thirty years if it means I get to keep you and my babies with me. I'm going to be better for you and for the kids. I'm going to take you all on tour with me from today on and were going to work through this. Now, why don't we head in it starting to get pretty cold." He stated as carefully helped you up while making sure Becca was wrapped up tightly in her blanket. You snuggled deeper into Harry's side and nodded your head as the two of you walked into the house once more.

Gemma and Michal sat on the couch talking quietly to each other as the tv played in the background They looked up at the two of you cautiously. Harry quickly kissed your head and grabbed Becca before taking her upstairs to bed.

You carefully grabbed one of the four full wine glasses on the coffee table and sat on the love seat next to the fire hoping to warm up a bit. Gemma starred at you as you sat there. You knew she was dying to know what happened outside, but she was too kind to ask.

"I think we're going to be ok" you state as you wrap the blanket closer to your chest. Gemma gets up and gives you a big hug.

“You’re not letting him off the hook are you?” she asked sternly.

“No, he’s not off the hook. We’re going to start therapy and we’re going to take things slow. He said he’s going to be home more and that he’s going to take us on tour with him from now on but we’ll see. One day at a time” you mumbled as you took a sip from your glass

"I'm glad it all worked out but if he hurts you again, family or not, I'll kick his ass. No one disrespects my (Y/n)" she said seriously. You laughed and simply nodded your head as you heard Harry's footsteps down the stairs.

"Thanks for watching Connor," Harry said as he shook Michal's hand and kissed the top of Gemma's head as she made her way to the spot next to her husband.

"Anytime. He is so adorable and quiet" Michal gushed.

You smiled softly and moved over slightly in your seat, making room for Harry. Harry carefully picked you up from the love seat and sat down, placing you on his lap and wrapping his arms tightly around you, burying his head into your neck. 

The four of you spent the rest of the night watching tv quietly as you cuddled in the loveseat, Harry stealing sips from your wine glass as you try your hardest not to fall asleep. After a while, Gemma and Michal said their goodnights and headed up to their room as Harry carefully picked you up and carried you to the guest room. He slowly laid you on the bed and removed all of your clothes except your underwear before taking off his shirt and helping you place your arms in the sleeves. He tucked you into bed and quickly changed into a pair of sweatpants before grabbing a pillow and getting ready to spend the night on the floor. He didn’t want to overstep and end the day on the wrong note but the minute he heard you call his name he smiled. He quickly checked on Becca that was fast asleep in her crib while Connor slept peacefully in the small bed laid out next to your bed. He gave both of them a quick kiss on the cheek before carefully sliding into bed behind you.

 You curled your body into Harry's and sighed contently as he wrapped his arms around you. You heard a faint "I love you, baby, so much" from Harry as you drifted off to sleep. For the first time in months, you were able to sleep through the night and you couldn't be happier.

Wow, it’s been a long time but I hope ya’ll enjoyed this one!!

Masterlist

[raviposting]

Random siblings headcanons I have for @totallyevan‘s TUActober day 7: Team Zero, focusing on Vanya because I Want To. 

There’s a line from This is Us that I apply to the siblings even with their life and it’s “I know we had moments” and I’d like to think that there were a few moments where the siblings had like, very genuine moments with Vanya even if they were few and far between so here we go: 

Luther: The kids all snuck out to a carnival when they were little. Everyone went, even Luther, because it was the last day it was in town and they desperately wanted to go. Ben and Five dragged Vanya along, and everyone went onto The Bullet - except for Luther and Vanya, who stayed back. Luther said he wasn’t in the mood but he was honestly scared at how high up the ride seemed to go and Vanya didn’t seem much better off. They stayed there, watching their siblings talking to each other on line, and Luther turned to Vanya and asked if she wanted a funnel cake. She seemed surprised but nodded, and the two of them went around to the different vendors and ate so much. They had funnel cake, cotton candy, bits of popcorn...by the time their siblings finished the ride all of them were jittery.

Diego: The siblings would have movie nights sometimes when they were given free time. Diego hated whenever it was October, because someone would inevitably choose a horror movie and Diego would scare so easily. One time, they were all clustered on the couch, Diego in between Vanya and his mom, and Allison put on The Ring. Diego was absolutely terrified and at one particular jump scare he jumped a bit and grabbed his mom’s hand next to him. They held hands for the entire movie, and she’d squeeze his hand whenever a particularly scary scene popped up, which made Diego feel better. It wasn’t until partway through the movie that Diego remembered that his mom was on the other side of him and that Vanya was to his right. He didn’t let go. 

Allison: The first time the siblings all snuck out to go to Griddy’s Donuts was the first time they had all snuck out in general. Five had said decisively that they were all going to Griddy’s, and so Vanya had gone with them. By the time the other siblings ordered, there was only some plain donuts and one chocolate raspberry donut left in the display case that both Allison and Vanya wanted. Vanya said she’d get the plain one and she got it, but then Allison grabbed a knife and split it into two, and they each had half of each donut. Vanya didn’t point it out, but she noticed that Allison had given her the bigger half of the raspberry/chocolate donut and it made her smile for the rest of the night. 

Klaus: After Ben, Klaus stopped going on missions. Reginald couldn’t force him to and he was more of a liability in Reginald’s eyes anyway, so in between Ben’s death and Klaus getting kicked out, Klaus would be at home with Vanya. He’d usually sprawl out on her floor napping as she played, or he’d be rambling about something he wanted to do outside of the house. It was a bit weird for Vanya, having someone talk to her so much, but it was nice too. One time she was just on the couch and Klaus sauntered over and started talking to an unknown specter in the room. He was high, Vanya thought, but at one point his eyes seemed clear and he said It should have been me before passing out. Vanya wrote out a small list - of places she and Five and Ben wanted to go, before everything went to Hell for them all - and put it in Klaus’s hands. After Klaus got kicked out, she kept getting postcards in the mail - sometimes after a few weeks, sometimes months, they were erratic and there was no pattern - but each one came from a different place on her list. 

Five: Five was probably Vanya’s first confidant. He’d come into her room, ranting and raving about whatever dumb thing Luther was doing or how their father had annoyed him that day. On a particularly bad day he said that he was going to run away and figure out how he could take all the siblings with him, or at least Vanya and Ben. Vanya said that maybe they shouldn’t run away for now - they were only twelve, after all - but that maybe they could just go to the park or something. He agreed and he blinked her to the park with him (a very weird moment for Vanya, but it was also pretty fun) and they sat on the park bench switching between people watching and Five ranting. After a while he calmed down and just said, “Thank you” and they sat there in a comfortable silence for the next hour. 

Ben: Ben would listen to Vanya play her violin whenever he could. He’d sit there quietly and listen, or read his book on her bed while she practiced and whenever she finished he’d clap for her and tell her what he specifically liked about her performance. He tried picking something new each time, whether it was talking about how hard the piece was or just how he could see the emotion in her face when playing it. After he died, Vanya would play the violin and she’d always pause a bit afterwards, waiting for the soft ruffling of a book being placed on the bed and some clapping, but it never came. 

[betterdaysareatoenailaway]

An Ode to Payphones

    “Mommy, what’s that?”       I looked. A child was glaring suspiciously at the payphone I’d been using moments before. He looked to be six or seven-years old, so it shouldn’t have been surprising that he’d never seen or noticed a public telephone before, but still. The question, and the palpable disgust in his voice, made me feel old.      “That’s a payphone, honey.”      “What’s it for?”      The mother cast an apprehensive look my way. We were on the platform at Spadina station and she’d seen me on the phone, plugging my ear against the shattering noise of a subway pulling in, making arrangements to meet my heroin dealer John at our usual spot at Main and Danforth. I would have to call him again when I got there, either from one of the four payphones inside Main Street station or on one of the two phones outside the church at Danforth. The phones inside Main Station must have all been routed through one line, because they either all worked, or none did.

    As for the two phones outside the church at Main and Danforth, typically one was broken, but they both worked when I went to check them for this article, a miracle perhaps attributable to the Second Coming of Christ on the roof.

     There have been long spells throughout my life as an addict during which I’ve had no mobile phone. Every spare cent went to heroin. The longest such spell was nearly a year. Several spanned three or four months. So it’s safe to say I know the payphones of Toronto as well as anybody else.      One of my old heroin dealers lived near Roncesvalles and Howard Park, where a non-Bell phone sat outside the Meridian Bank on the northeast corner, crooked and somehow wounded looking.

     There’s no trace of it now, but I know there used to be one just north, on the other side of the street where Dundas splits eastward from Roncesvalles. I used to use it all the time. Luckily, there’s another one not twenty steps east, a Bell, just outside the bus stop east of the Starbucks at Dundas and Roncesvalles. I’ve fed that phone a lot of Loonies, cursing its curious inability to recognize nickels or dimes.

     My Roncesvalles dealer was notoriously unreliable, so I often found myself having to take the College car all the way across the city to its eastern terminus at Main Station. While waiting on that corner for John I would commiserate with my fellow drug users, many of whom lacked phones themselves.      The most popular complaint I heard was how hard it was getting to find a public phone. Apparently some neighbourhoods in Toronto are payphone deserts. You can walk for twenty minutes in any direction and not find one.       So I’m going to see how many phones there are within a five minute radius of my apartment. My guess would be at least eight. Maybe ten. I’m about to get evicted, but I’ve lived in Kensington Market at Nassau and Bellevue since February 2017, which is a veritable payphone oasis. It’s too cold to go out tonight, so I’m going to take a virtual tour of my neighbourhood and take screenshots of every phone I find from Google Street View. Yes, the photos look pretty lo-fi but my whole life is lo-fi, so sue me.      Here’s a no-name one just north of Dundas on Bathurst: 

Here’s one just south of Oxford on Augusta: 

There are two Bell phones just outside Nirvana, across from Sneaky Dee’s:

There’s one outside the church one block east of Bathurst at Lippincot and College:

Here’s another no-name phone one block west of Spadina on the south side of College: 

And here’s a bank of payphones outside the internet cafe at Spadina and College:

     All three of the above phones never work at the same time, and some days you’re lucky to find one operational. (Incidentally, if someone ever reads this post a century from now, or maybe I mean a decade, or maybe I mean reads this post at all, I wonder how quaint the term “payphones outside the internet cafe” will seem.)      Here’s one more non-Bell phone, just to the west of the Scotiabank on the northwest corner of Dundas and Spadina. This phone has great personal significance for me, for a reason I can’t get into. Let’s just say I made a phone call on it during a very memorable moment in my life:

     For those of you not counting, that’s ten phones all within a five minute walk of my apartment in Kensington. There are another three are in the lobby of Toronto Western Hospital, for thirteen total. Thirteen is a lot more than I expected. Especially in 2020. And I’m sure I’m missing a few. Maybe payphones aren’t as endangered as they seem. In fact, as I was taking the photograph at the top of this post, a woman came over to me and asked, “are you using the phone?”     So they definitely still serve a purpose. They wouldn’t still be there if nobody was using them. A capitalist venture like Bell doesn’t keep phones around because the CEO is nostalgic. I’m kind of relieved at how many there still are, and how vital they still seem to be.       Still, I have mixed feelings toward payphones. They annoy me, but I also like them for reasons I can’t explain. I like invisible infrastructure. Nobody notices payphones. Ask yourself where the nearest payphone is. Do you even know? They may be forgotten or disliked, but they’re dependable, standing tall at their lonely outposts through sleet and rain, day and night, as we cuddle up with our smartphones in the warmth of our homes. We’ve left payphones out in the cold and most of us don’t even miss them.      I have a mobile phone now, but I still miss payphones. Or maybe I miss the days when they were a normal way to communicate, phone books slung around their waists, swinging on a chain. (Some time in the last decade, phone companies must have got tired of replacing the books nobody ever used and just got rid of them entirely. I guess they figured we could look up the numbers we need on...our mobile phones?)      Yes, there’s a definite note of nostalgia among people who still use payphones. We’re all bitter about the great price jump of 2007, when calls went from twenty-five cents to fifty, an increase of one-hundred percent. If you’re of my generation, old enough to remember life before the internet, then you know that payphones are sad remainders of the technology we grew up with, a visible reminder of the 90s. It’s my firm belief that everybody suffers from chronic temporal sickness for the decade they grew up in. I can imagine a day when they only exist in museums and photographs. Maybe I’ll go to watch the last phone get decommissioned. Maybe I’ll only love payphones once I can never use one again, like the Once-ler becoming an environmentalist only after hearing the “thwack” that felled the last Truffula tree in Dr. Suess’ The Lorax.      I feel this way even though payphones are often more a hassle than a convenience. I once spent half an hour outside the Eaton Centre on Queen Street waiting for a woman to finish her conversation, only to find the phone broken when she finally hung up. Her wild gesticulations should have tipped me off that she’d been screaming at a phantom, but I was too dopesick to notice.        There were and are other cons to payphone usage. It wasn’t always easy to come up with the necessary exact change. Or sometimes you’d have exact change but the phone wouldn’t recognize one of your coins. For whatever reason, payphones have a really hard time reading dimes. Many times I’ve had just enough to make one call but the phone won’t cooperate and I’ve had to throw myself at the mercy of a local convenience store owner or random bystander. Maybe “can I use your phone?” was an innocuous question back in the day, but nowadays people immediately suspect you for asking and they really, really do not want to loan you their phone. I don’t blame them. Our phones contain our entire lives. It’s not the same as handing someone a few quarters.       Despite all the long list of cons, there remains among my fellow payphone users a keen sense of loss. We’re all grieving something indefinable, something that went away with the advent of mobile phones. And I’m not leading up to a gripe about “kids these days on their phones.” As an avid reader, I usually bury my nose in a book when I’m on transit, so I don’t beseech people to “live in the moment” when they’re sitting on a bus. Being a passenger on the TTC for the thousandth time isn’t something that requires one’s undivided attention. I only get annoyed when I see some guy – and it’s always a guy – staggering down the sidewalk with his eyes glued to his phone, walking into people. Or walking into traffic. The feelings of wistfulness among payphone users grows more acute as the years roll on and more and more public telephones are yanked from their moorings, never to return. The sense of loss sometimes manifests itself in the passing down of legend.      When I first heard the story, it was that there exists somewhere in the city of Toronto a payphone that still makes calls for a quarter. I was convinced it was the one just east of University on Dundas, south side of the street, just east of the Royal Bank. It just looks so fucking furtive. Like it’s hiding from the tourist hordes at Yonge and Dundas square, tucked around that corner:

     I went to check that phone for this article but it doesn’t work at all, much less for half price.      In an apt game of telephone about telephones, the legend grew. Only a few months after I first heard the Legend of the Half-Price Payphone, the story had morphed into a unicorn payphone that makes calls for free. People were arguing over which one it could be, though admittedly nobody had ever found it. It was like the leprechaun’s pot of gold.      “It’s the one outside the mall at Kingston and Midland. The one with the Scotiabank!”      “Naw it’s the payphone at Warden Station! Next to the donut shop!”      “It’s the one at Yonge and Charles!”      “What? They took that one out before 9/11.”      “It’s the one in Yorkdale near the GO Station!”      “Seriously bro. Pre-9/11. You’re memory is fucked, bro.”      “My cousin’s in the Hell’s Angels. He can sell you a burner for $5. Why use a payphone when you can get a…”       “No one cares about your cousin, Dwight.”      “Pre-9/11 bro. Seriously. Yonge and Charles? Christ!”       And on and on and on, into the night.       I have a mobile phone now and it’s hard to imagine I’ll ever go back.       The final straw came when I had to go up to Muskoka one summer for four days to work on a cottage. I missed my partner so much by the third day that I walked up and down the length of the lake, looking for a payphone. I probably had a better chance of spotting a lion, but there was no way I was going back to that cottage without talking to my wife. I missed her too fucking much.       At the end of the lake I spotted a house with the garage door wide open. Inside the garage there was a workbench, a fridge, and all sorts of tools. On a hunch, I quietly made my way up the gravel driveway. There wasn’t a human being in sight. Inside the garage, I spotted a wall-mounted phone, and called my wife. She didn’t answer but I left her a message. As I was leaving it I heard footsteps and before I could make myself scarce an elderly lady came around the corner and stared at me. She obviously lived there.       “Um. I was just…leaving,” I said, hanging up the phone and sheepishly skipping back to the main road as fast as I could. The woman frowned after me, watching me go.       A little further down the road I saw an electrician working on a house and asked to use his phone. He said yes and I finally got through to my wife. But I couldn’t talk long or say what I wanted to say because the electrician was staring at me, so I determined right there and then to get and keep a fucking phone of my own. And that’s what I did. I sometimes pay my bill late and find myself cast backward into the land of payphones and useless dimes, but for the most part I’ve joined the 21st century.      As for that mother and her child, the mother did her best, to her credit.              “Some people…can’t afford cell phones,” she informed her son, who looked bored already. “Or else they can’t get coverage on the subway, so they use one of these. Or in emergencies, they work for emergencies.”       “What kind of person can’t afford a phone?” the child brayed incredulously.       The mother looked embarrassed. I wasn’t. Let her stupid kid hate payphones and poor people. Most people do.      I rarely use payphones now but I still get a small shiver of curiosity when I pass one I haven’t seen before, wondering if it’s the legendary free one. The unicorn. The white whale of public telephones. So I check. And I hear “please insert fifty cents” from the robotic lady voice that rules payphone land.      Then I move on.

[woildismyerster]

I know you mainly do fics off of prompts but have you ever thought about writing a fic based off of Two Broke Kids- by Ruth B. ??

I’d never heard that song before!  It’s sweet.  You know, I had never realized how much effort it take to write following a song.  I totally failed, and I’m sorry for that.  Here’s what I got instead.

You were sitting on the floor in your empty living room, book propped on your lap and hand resting against a half full mug, when a knock came at the window.  You were frowning when you walked over, but it melted into a smile when you saw who it was.

“Race!  Get in here before somebody sees you and thinks you’re breaking in.”

It wouldn’t be a surprise if people thought that.  You were in a sketchier part of the city, and while none of your neighbors had complained about thieves since you moved in, how much of a stretch could it be?  Not that you had anything to steal.

He had to shimmy awkwardly through the window, careful to hide something behind his back.  You didn’t bother trying to look; he sometimes brought you newspaper clippings that made him laugh or a donut to share.  His legs were too long, his head too high, for him to duck smoothly.  

You grabbed his face and pulled him in for a kiss.  He tasted like cheap coffee, and you smiled.  “Long day?”

“The longest,” he sighed.  He was a delivery boy for a sandwich shop, and though he was charismatic and loved people, he was always hollowed out and weary by the end of a shift.  He had a smudge of dirt on his cheekbone, and you wiped it away.

“Sorry.”

He shrugged your apology off, giving you a crooked smile.  “What’re you up to, doll?”

You gestured to the setup by the electrical outlet.  “Just chillin’.  Why?  Do you have plans?”

He handed the roses to you.  “I was thinking a date night.”

You gaped at the flowers.  These were nice flowers.  Race was usually the 3 dollar carnations kind of guy.  “How did you afford those?”

“That’s a great question,” he said with a sheepish smile.

“Could you afford those?”

“I didn’t have to afford them.”

You tried to scowl at him; you didn’t want stolen flowers.  You didn’t need flowers at all, so long as Race kept coming around.  “Race, come on, you didn’t have to -”

“I wanted to,” he said.  He kissed your forehead, quick and brief.  “I can’t give you much.”

“I’ve never needed much,” you said.  He tried to protest, so you cut him off.  “What are you thinking for the date, then?”

“McDonalds and a bus,” he said.

“Right you are,” you beamed.

You and Race, broke as you were, could not afford much for dates.  You ended up going on a lot of walks, eating a lot of fast food, and sneaking onto the bus to ride around the city for hours.

“She’s a spy,” you said, nodding toward an elderly woman  on the opposite side.  You had your head resting on Race’s shoulder.

“Really?  She looks so old.”

“That’s why it works.  She fools people into complacency by pretending to be deaf, and she reports their secrets to the CIA.  Or maybe the Russians.”

“Both,” he said.  “Whoever pays more.”

“I think you’re right,” you agreed.  “Your turn.”

He pointed to a teenage boy with snakebites.  “He’s a street artist.  He’s going to spray-paint the Empire State Building with penises.”

“That seems too easy for a street artist.”

Race was dragging his finger in lazy, patternless designs in the holes in your jeans.  “Anatomically correct penises.”

You laughed.  “I like that.  I would pay to see that exhibit.”

Race’s head flopped down onto yours.  You knew that meant it was about time to go home; he would be asleep soon.

“Alright, American Ninja Warrior,” you said gently.  “I think that this is a night to use the front door, not the window.”

“The window is more fun,” he yawned.

“It is literally our apartment,” you said with a smile.  “You have a key.  You live there.  We split the rent.  You can use the door.”

“I know,” he mumbled into your hair.  “It just makes it feel more exciting to sneak in.  Like we’re doing something exciting.”

“You’re exciting enough,” you promised.

You could tell he was on the verge of sleep.  Whenever he got tired, he softened.  Sometimes it meant that he would get cuddly, other times it meant that he was more emotional.  Race would apologize for things he was too proud to acknowledge during the day, or grow nostalgic for things he had never had.

“I’m sorry,” he said.

“For what?”

“That our apartment sucks,” he said.  He was still tracing the hole in your pants, but you grabbed his hand.

“I don’t care about that.”

“We don’t even have furniture,” he protested.  “I have to steal flowers.”

He was right; the two of you were truly scraping by.  You had a mattress on the floor, but you had opted to buy things like dishes and clothes instead of nice furniture.  “We can look at Goodwill again this weekend,” you offered.  “They have chairs for twenty dollars sometimes.”

“That’s not the point,” he said.  “I’m sorry I can’t give you more.”

“Who needs more?  If I had to choose between having you and having more, I would pick you every time,” you said.  It was true.  Times would be tough, but the two of you were in college.  College years were always hard.  You would get your degrees, and you cold figure things out from there.

“I would pick you too,” he promised.  You could hear the smile in his voice.  “Every time.”

“That’s good,” you said dryly.  You’re heart was racing a little, but he didn’t need to know that his words made you melt.  “You’re stuck with me.  We went in on that mattress together, and I’m not willing to share custody.”

He laughed, already fading into sleep.  You would wake him in a couple more stops.  You liked it when Race fell asleep against you like this, and you knew that he needed this.  He needed to sleep, and once he woke up, he would be ready to dream with you again.  You would dream together about bay windows and bookshelves; full savings accounts and buying flowers without giving something else up; colorful couches and strong coffee.  You didn’t have any money, but you had plenty of love and plenty of dreams.  Money paled in comparison.

[eene-fangirl]

Stand By Ed Chapter 7 [An Ed, Edd n Eddy Crossover]

Note: Here is the next chapter of @impano and I’s crossover of Stand By Ed! Enjoy!

Now it was completely dark all across the Lemon Brooke woods. Having traveled at night before the boys made camp in a safe place. It was an open grassy area surrounded by trees. If only they could sleep in the location they had last time. The city lights made them feel safe. At least the moon was out. Eddy especially felt much safer. It was still embarrassing to admit that dumb fear.

It took some time, followed with great patience, to start a campfire. After vigorously rubbing together two sticks as smoke fired out his ears, Eddy made the fire.

The humorous event reminded Eddy of a funny story he wrote.

As the Eds munched on marshmallows Eddy entertained his friends about a boy with the biggest ears. They’re length was similar to Dumbo. The boy had hearing better than any bird. One day he was in school and heard a girl whisper to a friend that she was going to ask some guy by the name of Brad out when she already had a boyfriend. But the friend already asked Brad to go out. But, Brad was asking some other girl out as they spoke! The boy with the big ears followed the commotion only to learn that the fight was occuring in another state!

Ed and Edd laughed as Eddy took a little bow. “Thank you, thank you, and thank you!”

“That was very good, Eddy,” Edd complimented.

“What happens after?” Ed asked.

Eddy’s smile faded. “What do yah mean?”

“Does the boy fly to the other state to see the drama? Ooh, that would be funny!”

Eddy uncomfortably scratched the back of his head. “Uh... I don’t know. That’s all I came up with.”

“What’s the reason why the boy has big ears?” Edd was next to ask.

Eddy shot Edd an annoyed look. Edd immediately felt guilty. He should have known better. Eddy just wrote to relieve his anxiety. Eddy enjoyed writing more then he let on Stacks and stacks of papers scattered around his room. He made up little stories about random characters, his own feelings, or even about his disco ball. Eddy had a unique mind. It was a shame he wouldn’t make it more of a hobby.

“It’s just a dumb story, guys!” Eddy huffed scarfing a half burned marshmallow down his throat.

Ed and Edd guiltily frowned. Putting another marshmallow on a stick Ed hit his against Eddy’s forming a gooey string of the dessert. Eddy laughed and playfully punched Ed’s arm.

“If only we had some buttered toast!”

“How would a marshmallow and toast go together?” Edd asked.

“Anything tastes good with buttered toast, Double D,” Ed stated matter of factly.

“Best not argue, Double D. The first thing I ever saw lumpy eat when I first met him was shrimp, two donuts, an apple, dsome steak tips, and even a turkey under two slabs of buttered toast.”

The conversation moved on to a ‘would you rather’ match, to movies, and betting which characters could beat out the other in a wrestling match. This is what the boys missing out on. Their time with no worries was quickly fading. That’s why Eddy was so anxious. There friendship would fade for sometime until they became closer. What if they actually split up in high school?

Eddy’s concern was soon forgotten when the howl of a wolf prowling some near distance alerted the boys.

“What was that?” Ed shivered grasping Edd’s arm.

“The call of a wolf, no doubt,” Edd gulped.

“A wolf?” Eddy questioned, his voice noticeably higher.

“It’s the wilderness, Eddy!”

“We never heard no wolves on the way to Bro’s!”

Before Edd could argue further another wolf howled which sounded even closer from the first one. The three boys huddled together in a tight hug. The fire didn’t light up much of the campground. Were the wolves lurking right outside the dark shadows ready to feast on their skin?

“This is not good! We won’t be able to sleep like this!” Edd deemed holding Eddy tightly. Eddy didn’t mind so much. He wondered if Edd noticed him holding him holding his hip.

“Not unless we take watch,” Ed recommended.

Both Edd and Eddy looked startled by their friends advice.

“Would you take watch, Ed?” Edd asked feeling quite humbled. Ed always looked out for them.

“Sure! Then Eddy can take watch and then you. We could keep watch by that tree.”

“You sure you’re gonna stay up, Ed?” A skeptical Eddy asked.

“Of course! I’ll just count chickens!”

Eddy grabbed something from inside his bag. “Wait Ed, take this!”

It was the gun. Terror flooded Ed’s face. He refused to take it. Edd was also giving Eddy a reproachful eye. Having learned that there were bullets inside the weapon earlier that day they had no idea how many more there were.

“Only use it if you really need to,” Eddy carefully instructed.

The crickets were chirping. Any little sound set Ed off. He tried to relax but if a stick snapped Ed picked up the gun and pointed it in every direction. Edd could hardly sleep fearing Ed may harm one of them by mistake.

As night went on Edd’s eyes grew heavy. He snuggled into his sleeping bag and drifted off to sleep.

Eddy took the next watch. He wasn’t at all tired. His mind kept him awake with irritating thoughts gradually bringing his mood down. His hand tightened around the gun in anger having to listen to his brothers voice on constant repeats like a broken record.

Noticing their fire slowly dimming Eddy left his post. He tapped at the burning sticks. What good would it do? He couldn’t even start a fire.

A moan alerted Eddy.

It was from Edd. He head tossed and turned in his sleep. He made another moan of discomfort.

Surrounding Edd were bodies. The kids were all injured. A little girl stared up at him with frightened teary eyes. That’s when Edd snapped out of it realizing what he was doing. The kids... they all looked... dead. Then there were flashing cameras in crowds of people with blurred faces asking why he injured a number of a children with dodgeballs. Someone ripped his hat off revealing the scar. People laughed. They pointed. And laughed. Edd searched for his parents. He called for them but no answer.

Then, there was his father.

The crowd of people diminished and it was eerily silent. Just Edd’s father staring coldly at his own son with no hat to cover the scar.

“Father...”

“I hate you, Eddward.”

Edd gasped away.

“You okay?” Eddy asked concerned.

Edd panted, grasping his beating heart. Tears threatened him. His whole being ached wanting a hug to relieve it all. No. Monsters don’t deserve hugs.

“Nothing.”

Eddy stared at him in pity much to Edd’s dismay. His focus returned back to the fire which steadily grew making them warmer. Without a word Eddy walked back to his lookout position miserably holding the gun. The way Eddy faced away from the campfire alerted Edd.

Years ago when they were outside of Mondo-a-Go-Go Amusement Park Edd remembered Eddy staring into the night sky for what seemed like an hour. And then the whole night turned into a deep conversation between the three friends which changed their friendship for the better.

Edd stood up and tip toed over to Eddy so he wouldn’t disturb a snoring Ed.

“Mind if I join you?” Edd whispered.

Eddy jumped, startled. “Y-Yeah, sure, sockhead.”

With some company Eddy looked a little better. Even Edd. The dream didn’t settle his worries.

“A penny for your thoughts, Eddy?” Edd asked with a nervous smile.

Eddy leaned his head against the tree. His whole body looked strained, holding back any pain. Then he shut his eyes, biting at his lip.

“I wish I could just drop out of school.” Came Eddy’s answer.

Edd’s heart ached. “Eddy, why?”

“I ain’t smart enough,” Eddy mumbled hardly looking at Edd.

Edd sighed an irritated groan. “Eddy, stop thinking that about yourself! You’ve come up with the most brilliant ideas. You always have a plan B.”

“You’re just sayin’ that.”

“I mean it! You always catch me when I overthink my studies.”

“So what?” Eddy huffed, waving his arms out. “If I’m smart then why don’t any of those wise ass teachers ever think so?”

Eddy growled staring at the ground hatefully. He still had the gun in his hand. Frim a short distance away Ed still snored.

“We’re going to the high school, Eddy.”

“Thanks for the reminded again!” Eddy snapped.

Eddy’s behavior confused Edd more and more. His friend was known for his angry spouts. “I meant that we have a fresh start.”

“Fresh start my ass! They all know me! As soon as I strut into that school they’re all gonna run for cover knowing I’m Terry McGee’s little brother.”

And with that Edd completely understood. “Eddy, they’re not...”

“Uh... earth to sockhead! Weren’t you payin’ attention at all these past three years?!” Eddy’s voice howled through the woods. Little did Eddy know he actually scared off a wolf. “None of them trusted me! I never got a say! No one ever took my side! They knew I was an evil destructive, cheating lowlife!”

“That’s not true.” Edd said calmly.

“Oh it is, don’t you try to defend me! No one ever asked if I made all those copies of an embarrassing school photo! Nope, they thought I wanted a gazillion copies to have as my headshot for when I was famous someday! And then I cleaned ‘em all up for two stickin’ hours without a ‘thank you.’ And then they go and give me a week’s detention for your impersonation of the principal.”

Edd’s heart swelled. “Eddy, I said...”

“I know! You told me and said you were sorry. It’s all in the past, Double D,” Eddy said to him. A tear escaped his eye. Eddy quickly brushed it away.

“Who were they gonna believe?” Eddy continued in a low voice. “All the kids who were torturing the victim or the kid brother of ‘Terrible Terrel’ McGee?”

Eddy sniffled. He bit at his knuckle forcing his sobs down. The skin broke, bleeding. Edd placed a hand on Eddy’s shoulder trying to calm him.

“Nope. They’d believe you. And a jock who gets bad grades. Three witches who hardly show up for school. And a spoiled brat! But not me! A kid who was abused by his own brother for no reason whatsoever! Did they even care?! No, they didn’t ask. They just assumed! No one trusts me! They all...” Eddy hid the tears and shook his head.

“I just wish I could go some place where nobody knows me!”

Edd pulled his best friend into a hug letting him cry into his shoulder. Eddy held Edd closely, shaking as he sobbed.

“I’m such a sap,” Eddy was trying to laugh it off but he couldn’t.

Or the remainder of he night the two boys held one another tightly. Once assured that nothing was coming after then they went back to the campground and slept. Eddy's hand stayed connected with Edd’s as they fell asleep to crickets chirping.

[caslikescoffeeandfreckles]

This is a really dumb fic based on “The Fool” by Lee Ann Womack and honestly it blows but i’m tired of looking at it and trying to make it better goodbye

2.3k

Dean turns his collar up against the cold. There’s a sad howling in the wind and his toes are numbing from the slush soaking through his boots. His body aches for the left side of a bed that’s probably gone cold by now but he ignores it and continues toward the flickering neon sign. 

The bar is small and run down, a non-assuming haven for nursing blue-collar miseries with bottom-shelf whiskies and macro brews.

Dean spots a dark-haired woman at the bar immediately and makes his way over, pulling back the rickety stool to her right.

“Mind if I join you?”

The woman turns her head. She’s pretty; dark hair and dark eyes, a dangerous tilt to her lips as she looks him up and down. “Do I know you?”

“Not really.” He holds out a hand. “Dean Winchester.”

The woman raises her hand, sliding long manicured fingers along his palm and gives a tight squeeze. “Meg Masters.”

“I know.” One of her sharp brows arches in question, but Dean points at the stool. “May I?”

She nods and Dean eases into the seat, aware of the dark gaze watching his every move with cold suspicion. It’s more off-putting than he’d like to admit but he breathes through the nerves and gestures for the bartender.

“Two doubles for me and the lady.”

“So how is it that you know who I am but I’ve never even caught a glimpse of your handsome self?” Meg asks as their drinks are poured.

Dean’s laugh is hollow. “Gotta keep an eye on your competition right?” “Competition?” Meg echoes, eyes narrowing. “Who are you?”

“Who are you?” a gravelly voice asks.

Dean holds out a hand. “Name’s Dean Winchester. Jay sent me to help with your tire.”

They shake hands and the man’s hand is strong and soft. His blue eyes narrow a little suspiciously. “I’ve never seen you at Jay’s or anywhere in town before.”

“I’m the new guy for now,” Dean says moving around the car to check out the busted tire.

“For now?” the man echoes, following behind him.

“Yeah, I’m just passing through. Jay’s giving me some work until it’s time for me to go. You got a spare in the trunk?”

The bartender places the amber glasses in front of them and Dean reaches out for his, fingers flexing around the cold as his chest stutters to accept a breath.

“I’m the dumbass in love with the dumbass… who’s still in love with you.”

Her gaze is heavy as he tilts his head back and grimaces through the bittersweet burn of bourbon. The second it fades, he craves another, wants to drown in the bottle.

Meg still isn’t speaking and every passing second wreaks havoc on his stomach. The relief he had been expecting isn’t coming and he supposes that’s because it’s only half finished. He takes that second drink.

“You’re Cas’s boyfriend,” Meg says when he swallows.

The name does more to him than it has any right to, but it’d always had that effect.

Dean puts the tools in the drunk and lowers the door. “Okay, that donut is gonna get you around town but you need to buy a new tire as soon as you can.”

The guy grimaces and it’s almost cute. “Of course. I’ll figure it out. Thank you for your help, Dean.” He fishes for his wallet. “How much do I owe you?”

Dean waves him off. “It’s nothing, man. Anyone can change a tire.”

“Anyone but me, it would seem.”

“Well, if you can bring this fine lady by the shop some time, I can show you.”

The man’s eyes are so wide and earnest when he looks up, it’s breathtaking. 

“You would do that?”

“Yeah, man. Everyone should know how to change a tire. It comes in handy. Obviously.” 

The man casts a withering look at the small replacement tire, then back at Dean and he a small smile forms. “I think I’ll take you up on that, then.”

“Awesome. Then I guess I’ll see you around…?”

“Castiel. Castiel Novak. But you can call me Cas.”

It’s a beautiful name and Dean wants to say it on repeat. But he allows himself just one. “All right then, Cas. See you soon.”

“Well,” Meg breathes out and clicks her tongue. “Damn. Cas sure did good for himself. Always did know how to pick ‘em.”

Dean grimaces. “Maybe not as well as you think.”

Meg sighs and picks up her drink. “Look, kid, I don’t know how you got this idea about feelings between me and Cas, but I can promise-”

“He said your name in his sleep.” The words fall from his tongue, heavy and retched. Meg turns her head toward him. He swallows around the lump in his throat. “Happened last night. And a few other times.”

Dean still remembers the first time like a heart attack. Lying in the dark with his arms around Cas, warm and smelling of toothpaste and coconut shampoo. He stroked his hand up and down Cas’s waist and hid a kiss in his hair, felt a delightful fluttering in his stomach when Cas sighed in his sleep and shuffled closer, only for it to turn to a sickening lurch when a name was whispered into the silence. 

Meg.

“He doesn’t know he does it,” Dean goes on, turning the glass in his hands. It’s hard to look anywhere but at the whiskey swirling inside and he feels a painful strain on his throat with the effort to keep his tone level. “Sometimes he says he misses you. Most of the time it’s just your name. Just Meg.”

“Okay before you get some crazy idea in your head, Cas and I haven’t been together since we split.”

“I know,” Dean says. And he does. The thought had crossed his mind a few times but always passed before sprouting roots. “Cas would never do that.”

Meg nods and sips from her glass. “So why are you here?”

“So why are you here of all places?”

They’re in Jay’s garage and it’s hot and Cas is hovering just a few inches away while Dean tightens a lug nut. “I don’t know. Got tired of driving, I guess. And this place seemed okay.”

“Where are you going?”

“Nowhere in particular.”

“You’re just driving around the country for fun?”

Dean shrugs. “Nothing better to do.”

“When are you leaving?”

Dean lowers the torque wrench and turns around because Cas clearly isn’t interested in learning right now. “You ask a lot of questions, you know that?”

Cas straights up, looking admonished. “Sorry. I’ve been told my social graces leave something to be desired.”

“It’s fine, man.” Dean towels the sweat from his face and neck and reaches for his water bottle. “I’ll probably head out in a month or so.”

“Oh.” Cas looks down at the paved floor for a moment, brows furrowing. “Well, I was thinking that if you have the time and would be interested in getting to know the town a little better, maybe… we could get dinner some time?”

Dean blinks a few times, his stomach lurching even as his spine tingles because this doesn’t make any sense. “Are you asking me out?”

“Yes. Is that… okay?”

He’s been with people out of his league, but Cas is an entire different ballpark. “Dude, I’m a mechanic.”

Cas looks around the surroundings, taking in the elevated vehicles and the assortment of tools and spare tires lying about. “I’m aware.”

“I change oil on dirty cars all day and replace tires.”

“I’m aware what a mechanic does, Dean.”

“And you… want to take me to dinner?”

“Yes,” Cas says again and it’s so confident and sure.

Dean just shakes his head, blown away. “Do you always pick up guys you meet on the side of the highway?”

Cas’s face is bright red but he smiles and it’s lovely. “This will definitely be a first.”

Dean takes another drink of water and purses his lips. He doesn’t usually do “dates” in the towns he stops in. His encounters are limited to one-night stands and quickies in the back of a bar. But Cas is sweet and gorgeous and Dean wants to know how he holds his silverware and if he’s the type to hold the door open or pull out your chair. There’s absolutely no way anything could actually happen between the two of them, but damn if Dean doesn’t want to start something.

“If I’ve made you uncomfortable, I’m-”

“You know what, Cas? I think I’ll take you up on that offer.”

Cas looks pleasantly surprised, his smile soft as he meets Dean’s eyes. “Really?”

Dean nods. “Yeah, really. But — under one condition.”

“What is it?”

Dean grins. “You have to change a tire on your own.”

Dean digs his nails into the worn wood of the bar like a last ditch effort to hold on to something in this town. But he lets go and pulls out his wallet, decision made a long time ago.

“Cas is a great man who deserves everything. But the thing he wants is something I can’t give him. Trying to pretend otherwise, it’s not fair to him and-” he feels the sharp pressure building behind his eyes and bows his head, tries to blink it away but every time he does he just sees blue eyes and sleepy smiles, broad hands reaching out to him from under a blanket, kisses over coffee, and limbs tangled together under white sheets in the dark.

Meg.

And just like that, it’s all gone.

“And it’s not fair to me,” he finishes.

He drains his glass and throws a bill down on the bar and stands. Meg’s hand wraps around his wrist. “What are you going to do?” she asks.

“What are you going to do?” Cas asks between sips of his beer.

“What do you mean?”

“Like when you leave here? What are you going to do next?”

Dinner was magical. They talked for hours, Dean sharing more about himself and learning more about another person than he has in years. Cas did hold the door open and he folds his napkin in his lap and crosses his silverware over his plate to signal when he’s done. He also always holds eye contact while he’s listening to someone speak, he call the waiter “sir,” and his nose scrunches when he laughs.

After dinner, Cas showed him this little dingy bar. Nothing special, he had said, but it’s warm and cozy and the drinks are cheap. They grabbed two stools at the bar and continued talking, drifting closer and closer by the minute and Dean’s never felt more at ease in his life.

“I don’t know, Cas,” Dean finally answers. “I don’t know what’s next or what I really want. What about you? Is this is it for you or do you have a plan?”

Cas shrugs. “Not a plan, really. I mean, I like it here. I have a good career and good friends.”

“But?”

Cas smiles sadly. “No one to share it with.”

And a part of Dean wants to volunteer, but he just hums and listens.

“I used to think my ex was the one who I would spend the rest of my life with. That we could be more than enough for each other.” Cas blows out a slow breath. “But I was wrong.”

“I’m sorry, Cas.”

Cas takes another drink and stares up at the ceiling. “It’s fine. They’re out there somewhere. It sounds silly, but I believe in a one true love. A person we are cosmically designed for, like your hearts were made from the same mold. You walk a tightrope of fate toward each other all your lives, and sometimes you might lose your balance, but you get back on and some day you’ll see another pair of feet on it on the line.” Cas turns toward Dean with a shy smile. “Does that make me sound crazy?”

Cas’s words brought butterflies to Dean’s stomach and he feels a little lightheaded listening to this idea of love. He returns the smile. “No. That’s not crazy.”

“What do you believe?”

Dean had never really thought about it before. And he doesn’t know where the words he says come from, if they’re carried by the whiskey or if it’s just another magical side effect of Cas. “I believe that we’re all on a journey, searching for the thing that makes us whole. And when we find it, we can finally stop moving.”

“Is that why you move around so much?” Cas asks.

“I think so.”

“Do you think you’ll find what you’re searching for?”

“I hope so.”

“Do you think you could find it here?”

Dean meets Cas’s eyes. Everything feels quiet now, and nervous, like the molecules in the air are afraid of ruining the moment.

“Yeah, Cas. I think I could.”

He had been wrong. Dean was just a stumble off Cas’s tightrope, and Cas was a pit stop of Dean’s map, no matter how much he wanted him to be the final destination.

“I’m gonna do what’s right.” Meg’s hand falls away and Dean follows the motion with his eyes before meeting hers. “You take care of him, okay?”

His walk across the bar is scored with the whines of a sad mandolin, a song so befitting it almost makes him laugh. He shoulders past the door and the cold closes around him like an old friend.

The relief doesn’t hit him once he’s in his car or even two miles outside of town. But somewhere on the highway, two states out, something shifts in his chest and he takes what feels like his first proper breath in weeks. Maybe it’s not exactly relief, but he catches an exit sign and, this time, he doesn’t calculate the hours or miles to go back.

[suckerforsoulmates]

Trish Talks

"If you don't remove your hands from her in the next 2 seconds, you will no longer have hands." The raven haired woman said threateningly to the man who she had witnessed place a hand on Trish's arm as the blonde leaned against the bar.

"Jess, you're on time!"

"Always for you." She muttered, staring at the man who was frozen in place, practically burning into him with her eyes.

She took a step closer to the man, quickly placing her hand on his shoulder and squeezing until he let out a yelp and let go of Trish's arm.

"What did I tell you, dude? Never touch a lady unless she asks you to. Got it?" She said, looking down at the man, still squeezing his shoulder as he nodded quickly.

"Jess, let's go get our table. Leave the man, please." Trish said with a smirk as she stood up and watched Jessica unhand the man.

"After you." The taller woman said, still keeping her eyes on the man in front of her, following after Trish once the blonde got far enough away from her unfortunate new acquaintance.

"Thank you for not bashing his head in, babe." The blonde said, running her hand up Jessica's arm.

"Like I would ever do something like that." Jessica replied sarcastically, smiling at Trish's facial expression.

"I can name plenty of times where that exact instance has occurred or nearly occurred."

"Listen, I'm not going to sit around and let guys manhandle you without teaching them a lesson. No one needs to be putting their hands on you. Except me, of course." The private investigator huffed as she sat down at the table across from Trish.

"I get it, Jess. You know I do. I do the same for you." She responded, tilting her head when she watched a bright smile coming over Jessica's face.

"You're damn right you do. You're the most adorable angry person, it makes me equal parts proud and equal parts hot for you."

"Jessica!" Trish scolded half-heartedly, "We're in a restaurant!"

"Watch me not care."

"Welcome back to Trish Talk. I'm Trish Walker and I'm here with our special guest, Jessica Jones, a private investigator."

"We all know that's not why I'm on your show, Trish." Jessica said dryly as the blonde winked at her in response.

"You are very right. I brought you on to clear the air, if you will. We've heard a lot of rumors lately about the two of us and our relationship. Some say we're just best friends, others think we're more. I've heard rumors that we're soulmates, as well as rumors of us being related."

"Yeah, I've heard them too."

"So. Care to set the record straight then?"

"Sure thing, babe. Trish and I are actually soulmates. Lucky her." She said, throwing a wink in for good measure. "And surprise to all of the slowpokes out there-we have actually been married-that's right, married. Lucky me. For 3 years."

"Nearly 3 years." The blonde chimed in, grabbing her wife's hand from across the table.

"Fine, nearly 3 years. Our anniversary is next week, I figured I'd round up."

"Why don't you tell everyone about the rest of our family."

"Well, we've got a set of twins at home." She said dryly before waiting a beat. "I'm just kidding, we don't have any kids. That sounds like not a lot of fun at this point in time."

"Nice, Jess." Trish said with a huff.

"We do have some animals though. And by some, I mean one. I talked Trish into getting a bearded dragon. His name is Buzz and he's great. Way better than some boring cat or dog."

"Jessica has been attempting to get me to agree to a snake now." The radio host said as she watched the raven haired woman shrug her shoulders.

"I think it would be so badass to get a snake. Like a huge snake. I'm still working on her. Maybe for my birthday or something she'll finally cave. We'll need to see."

"I don't think we ever need a snake in the house, but I will buy you a pass to the zoo and you can see the snakes there."

"I mean. That's a start."

"Just think how offended Buzz would be if we had to split our time between him and a snake."

"You're laying it on a little thick there, Walker. Yeah, Buzz is a badass, but I don't really think he cares about us." Jessica said with a smirk as Trish pointed at her quickly.

"Hah! So you agree that having Buzz is not the same thing as a dog or cat."

"Well duh! He's better than a dog or cat. We can go off and do whatever we want! We don't have to be that couple that's all 'oh, we have to get home to feed the cat or let the dog out,' you know?"

"Okay, you got me there, but we will eventually be getting a dog or cat."

"I understand. We don't have to worry about that for a while though."

"Onto some questions from our callers!" Trish said as she winked at Jess and squeezed her hand.

"Hi, I was just wondering how you two realized that you were soulmates?"

"I think we both always just felt really strongly for each other and kind of knew it in our hearts. But it was really solidified before we'd started dating." Trish said quickly as Jessica nodded along.

"You know how soulmates always have each other's backs and stick up for each other at all times? To the point where it's sometimes really irrational?" The PI chipped in.

"Well this was kind of like that. I was dating this one guy, and he was kind of an ass." Jessica huffed as Trish said that. "Me and my then-boyfriend were out for drinks at this bar and he was drunk and got a little handsy."

"And I happened to show up for a drink and saw that, and I broke his arm." Jessica said slowly.

"And that is how we knew for sure. We're both irrational about each other and people touching each other. Obviously not if it's a normal interaction, but any sort of more handsy interaction is a real no-go." Trish added, trying to not make themselves seem crazy.

"Now that we've talked about violent tendencies, let's move to the next question." The raven haired woman said.

"Hi Trish and Jessica! My name is Tanya. I was just wondering what the craziest thing you've done for each other?"

"Like crazy crazy or crazy romantic?" Jessica asked before Trish could speak.

"Both, I guess!"

"Sure thing, Tanya. Well my little spitfire Trish got really mad one time when we were out at dinner."

"Jess!" Trish whined as Jess just shrugged at her.

"Oh please, it wasn't that bad. This woman came to the table to talk to Trish and ended up flirting with me instead. It was hilarious. My sweet little Trish went on a rampage. It was adorable and if I didn't know her so well, it would've been terrifying."

"I think we just hit the crazy Jess story. So the romantic Jess story-which I'm surprised she's letting me tell on live radio because she's got a huge badass reputation-is the time after we'd been married for about a year and I went on a book tour. We hadn't seen each other in about 5 weeks and it was really hard. Until at my next book event, she stood up and asked a question. She'd flown across the US to see me, it was the best surprise I could've asked for."

"Alright, next question." Jessica said, wanting to skip telling the story about Trish being romantic as she didn't like to admit to it on air.

"What is your make it or break it moment in a relationship?"

"Listen. If you don't like pizza or donuts, we can't be together."

"Why is that your answer?" Trish asked through her chuckles.

"Because if you don't like pizza or donuts, you don't know how to appreciate the good things in life. And I don't need that negativity in my life, I'm already a pessimist."

"That's pretty good reasoning, actually."

"Don't sound so surprised, Walker. My lady here puts up with our mandated weekly pizza and donuts night."

"I love our weekly pizza date. We watch movies or TV and just lay around, eating everything. It's perfect for us."

"Not that I would ever let you admit to that on live air." Jessica said, trying to regain some badass credibility.

"Of course not, babe."

[knifesimmons]

okay not to continue to bad media post on main but. my mutual asked and i provide:3

:readmore:

red vs blue disney descendants au. the four from the isle r the new republic four, Simmons, Grif, Tucker, n Caboose

-Simmons is the son of syndrome (buddy pine). he kept his moms last name. still a cyborg, but instead from a bad lab accident. thanks to synthetic skin and holograms, he doesn't look cyborgy, but all the isle kids know. a walking ball of neuroses and stress, the isle was Not good for his blood pressure

-Grif, his mom hooked up with Maui right before getting sent to the isle for minor crimes. surprise surprise, shes pregnant! he's a shapeshifter, but only figures that out off of the isle. Kai still exists, but they don't know who her dad is (it's hades). definitely has the whole "i do not care" personality on lock, but secretly cares So Much

-Tucker was raised by the three witches from The Black Cauldron. it's sort of a foster care situation, but it works out well for pretty much everyone. regular human guy, but his plasma sword is the sword that they traded the Cauldron for. in his Chorus era personality wise, and considers himself the leader of their little group

-Caboose, p obviously Gaston is his dad. so now in addition to his 17 sisters, he's got a couple of brothers too lol. definitely too nice for the isle, but since he's a powerhouse, nobody messes with him.

everyone else is an auradon person. Lopez and Sarge are teachers, Lopez teaches Spanish, and only speaks in it as a goal of immersion. Sarge is a gym teacher for every sport we dont see in canon, and also the shop teacher. Both are wary about the concept of the Isle kids, as neither of them taught the original four to come over

-Donut is the son of Aurora and her prince (yes because the pink). he's on the school's sports team. definitely pro isle kids coming over. his older sister Audrey and him don't get along very well, but they're close, though they used to be closer.

-Doc is the son of Rapunzel and Eugene, and maybe sort of has some of her magic healing abilities? they work arbitrarily and Weirdly, but sometimes do. him and Donut are close, and he's a bit more hesitant about the isle kids

-Wash is the son of Anna and Kristoff. excited to get to know new people. his aunt being Elsa means he's a lot more open to people not turning evil just because it's expected of them.

-Carolina is the daughter of Merida, the director is the same in p much every universe tho.. she was raised in a split custody sort of situation, and has Opinions. about everything. she thinks that having VKs come over is going to explode in a fiery mess. she's on pretty much every sports team, and one of the scariest people at the school

-Church is Carolina's younger half brother, and half fairy. no one is Exactly sure how the director actually did that, but he did. definitely hates a lot of auradon's rules, and totally abuses his magic abilities for his own gain. very excited for the VKs to come over and make things Interesting

plotwise, it would be sorta a follow up to descendants 1. well, the first group of Villain kids chose to not be evil, now the next group. they pick a group of, relatively minor, villain kids to bring over. None of whom are at all interested in revenge plots. instead, they are just massive, kinda messed up, dicks. i have no other plot atp.

things i do want to see tho:

-ppl figuring out simmons is an actual cyborg. How. Why. please replace your parts you're rusting

-grif finding out he can shapeshift, and immediately using it to nap. and then finding out who his dad is. this does not cause problems (it does)

-nobody wants tucker to have a sword. except for tucker. and the sword. can you get ESA exceptions for a magical sword that flies? lets discuss

-caboose goes jock mode. caboose is the only one of them actually adjusting to auradon.

-carolina trying to convince people that inviting more VKs over is an absolute Bad Idea until she meets them and realizes that in terms of actual damage, they're Very incompetent

-church attaches himself onto the VK group in his latest bout of rebellion.

-wash, doc, and donut are assigned as their welcoming/guide team to auradon. this is stressful for all of them

not to ough immediately bad post but. red vs blue characters in the Disney descendants setting. (look we all have our comfort medias, mine just so happen to include rainbow skittle assholes w swords and rip-off ever after high). if this post gets two (2) notes, i will release my thoughts on what an rvb descendants au would look like

[irregulardiaryposts]

00:53 21/06/2021

Hello again <3

so i think im gonna write about my mental health today because i dont feel like i have anyone who understands fully apart from myself maybe so i need to Organise my Thoughts. as a kid i had a pretty normal childhood, a mum a dad and a brother - pretty nuclear right. but as a child i felt like my family maybe wasnt quite right, that this wasnt supposed to be what family is? perhaps. - i was scared of my mum a lot because she wasnt very understanding of me - and i was a great kid, never getting into trouble, very good at school, no issues whatsover. the thing that really shows how i thought of my relationship with my mum was when i was like maybe 8 or so having a parents night and at it my teacher had nothing bad to say apart from i was kinda bossy in group settings (im sure i dont need to explain how misogynistic that actually is- i was not bossy i was a natural leader) and when i got home my mum told me off for that and i felt like she was kinda cold to me and not taking all the good things about me into consideration when telling me off for that.

i feel like thats a really defining moment in my life when i realised i cant expect adults to Understand me, realised how people treat young girls, also started my defiant behaviour maybe or was kinda one of the key moments that made me dislike certain authorities in my life, that if people wont understand me regardless of how i explain myself then i wont bother trying to be understood by people who wont matter to me. anyway yes i was scared of my mum-like petrified sometimes- but my dad wasnt great either, he also had his shortcomings. i feel like he never really cared about me like he was kinda apathetic towards raising me like a parent - i feel he would be better suited as an uncle to someone rather than a dad - the funny childish guy that makes kids laugh -not the uncaring dad that cant be bothered to really learn about his kids. and i feel im sitting here complaining about my parents when the fact is that a lot of adults should never be parents, society has conditioned people into thinking the only way to be fulfilled in life is to live vicariously through your kids when life gets to such a boring and monotonous place where you feel the need to create a new life to spice things up lmao. i feel a lot of parents regret having kids but they cannot express that regret because it was their choice and they should deal with that, also saying you regret it would be pretty horrible to the kid.

so while yes i am complaing about my parents i dont think they were Bad in any way just not that great yaknow. also i just notice all these things growing up and i feel its been pretty impactful to understanding myself and my parents. also just some anecdotes from my childhood - i used to watch my dad play video games like the uncharted games i think theyre called, and whenever i got scared i used to hide behind the couch until the scary part was over (usually a lot of guns and high energy fight scenes thats too much adrenaline for a 7 yo) and sometimes when i would take out my dad/brothers game i would get them to fo the hard parts and do other stuff myself - i dont remember many games i played apart from one of the spidermen games where u could just web around the city and not progress apart from sometimes you would come across some strippers and i accidently got into a fight with them (also hot women with umbrellas they use to fight- maybe i went near them on purpose) i would yell to my dad and get him to do it for me. also on new years eve whenever my mum was working and we werent going to any family parties we would make a bunch of food and put it out in the kitchen - wed make like homemade onion rings, chips, have crisps and dips, and a bunch of junk basically and watch like austin powers or some shit and genuinely miss those times they were so simple. but a lot of thats tainted now from what happened. also my brothers always been annoying as shit but when we were kids we couldnt be in the same room without arguing which like whatever thats how kids are esp brothers and sisters for some reason.

i think thats majority of the background needed for the rest. wait this is a little addition but i meant to mention this here so ill put it in- basically sometimes on holidays i would geniunely think my parents hate each other/ were getting a divorce like once when we were in florida in 2012 my dad convinced my mum (as well as me and my brother convinced her since we liked them) we convinced her to go on a water slide thing that u had to walk up the stairs for, it was outdoors, and it was kinda tall and then we got in one of the big donut things and it swooshed from side to side a lot and was generally pretty scary i suppose for someone who doesnt like rides esp since you had to hold on to the handles there were no buckles or anything, and so when we got off the ride my mum was big mad at my dad and like wouldnt talk to him and stuff like that which was pretty uncomfortable to have to be the 8 year old mediator of that but there was also another occasion i think (maybe also at florida) where they were made at each other and i asked my mum if they were getting divorced and all she said was 'ask ur dad' like???? no sort of consolation to this child who thinks their parents hate each other nooo just petty 'ask him' and theres also been other times when they fight/ are mad and they dont feel the need to hide it from us so i felt quite anxious around my parents sometimes.

so ahnyway . yes. when i had just turned 13 my parents split up and it fucked me up in a multitude of ways. also i cant beleive i stopped being a proper kid at 13, like as soon as i turned a teenager life hit me like a fucking truck. so the context as to why they split is still kinda lost to me ngl but they didnt tell me much anyway since i was young but my mum basically said my dad didnt love her anymore and he wanted to separate. its kinda funny because leading up to this my dad had been sleeping in the living room for like a few weeks and there was on and off fighting i could hear and i basically thought they were fighting over me and that i was in trouble and it kinda used to keep me up coz i could hear loud voices when they thought i was asleep- which is probably the cause of why i get veryyyy mad and angry when i hear my mum at like 1 am downstairs when shes drinking and im trying to sleep, probably something ive internalised (is that the word?) and made me respond so strongly to those type of noises.

anywayyyyy yes i thought i was in trouble when they were actually just getting a divorce so ... yeah you can really tell i was young and didnt understand adult issues or really couldnt figure this out myself from all the arguing and him sleeping downstairs lmao. anyway my dad moved out and it was just me my mum and my brother now and at this point my brother wouldve been about to turn 18, so although still kinda shit, not really as affected my it as a 13 yo, just to keep in mind. so i was devastated obviously and my whole world was kinda shattered but i had to hold it together a bit, also i was sometimes my mothers own therapist having to say things like 'everything happens for a reason' 'itll get better' in response to her deteriorating mental health and her questions that would be really hard for me to answer like 'why did he leave' etc (bish im a child be there for me not wallow in ur own pity, u have ur whole life to sort this out youre an adult, im a 13 you and only months away from wanting to kms hun think of ur CHILD please) anyway this left me feeling like a burden if i were to share my mental state because when my mum shared her stuff she was burdening me (AGAIN i was 13 she is an adult) so that made me bottle a lot of things up also the fact that i had no one to share it with because she works as a nurse and now shes a single mother and so she works almost all hours of most days and i dont see her much, my brother was either working at this time or just didnt give enough of a shit about me to make sure i ate.

i went from being catered to for every meal because i didnt know how to cook to suddenly no one being there for me so i had to learn how to do it myself. needless to say that lead to a bunch of unhealthy eating habbits like eating the same things every day - frozen pizza, cheese toasties, i cant think of anything else probs because i didnt make anything else just ate chocolates or didnt eat breakfast coz i woke up at 2pm. just general unhealthyness both in substance and like how healthy that was for my head yk. also this is during the summer btw so it gave me the option to be incredibly depressed - im not saying that as an edgy teen thing to say im being 100% genuine i was very depressed like textbook style - not eating or overeating, not showering/ taking care of myself, extreme lack of energy and hated doing social things coz i had to put on a farce that i was okay meanwhile i couldnt wait to get into my bed and sleep the next day and a half away.

i very vividly remember at the start of the summer holiday my friend asked me if i wanted to go out and do something and i rememeber just crying at that because i had no reason to say no but i just didnt want to and felt like i couldnt do anything and so i lied and said i wasnt feeling well and then put my phone down and curled up in my bed and cried coz i was frustrated and upset and i couldnt really understand what was wrong with me and why i was Like This.

god i didnt take into account how tired i was and how late it is when i started this huh, this isnt even half of it, but i have obligations in the mornign, the last until uni or whatever so ill put this in my drafts and finsih it somethime. alrigtht it is 02:08 btw z_z. also ive just now decided im gonna re organise my tumblr so if this ends up being an actual blog thing i can navigate it easier by adding tags and such. anywau goodnight.

20:21 30/06/2021

MOTHERFOIUHIFIUDVMKCVKM V

MY LAPTOP SHUT DOWE IN THE MIDDLE OF THSAT SO ITS ALL GONE BASICALLY I WAS DEPRESSED BURTNOUT GIFTERD KID AND IT SUCKED YADDa YADDSZ ANYTWAY

so

23:01- well. yes earlier i wrote a little about the ages 13-16 and how they sucked but whatever it got deleted the more pertinent stuff happened in the last year or so anyway.

um yeah so i started the last year of highschool as a 16 year old with a fucked up brain and never having learned any study techniques or work ethic in the slightest. i took 3 uni-level courses only one i actually wanted to do, most people take 2 at most or even 1/0 but do other classes. honestly it fucking sucked this year for school but i scraped all passes so thank god for that. so i started the year quite optimistic, or as much as i could be and in all fairness the content of this year wasnt actually that bad considering i was doing 3 hard classes but corona really truly fucked everything up and by November i had mentally dropped out of my classes but of course i still had to go to them. i feel like im an oddly independent teen because ive never had a solid parental presence in a while, like i had to do a lot for myself and maybe i should thank myself for getting me through it all because i really did pull through.

my thoughts keep drifting from what im writing coz i wanna talk about different things and im just thinking maybe i shouldve just posted the last one then added a reblog when i could be bothered to write and not force myself because if theres ever a reoccurring theme in my life is that if i force myself to do anything i will hate it with my entire being, so maybe i should just do a short synopsis and write about something else afterwards.

so i took 3 hard classes, slowly lost all motivation because in jan it switches to online classes and i could Not deal with those it was horrible, and i became more of a "troublesome student" in one of my classes *cough* maths *cough* and almost got "kicked out" of taking the class just because the teacher was a control freak but like wanted to control all of our actions and behaviour, also i think i may have adhd and another kid in my class i think he does too and surprise surprise the teacher "dislikes" him too but its only a farce because he doesnt actually dislike him its only so that i cant call him out for singling me out when other students behave "badly" too. but anyways maybe ill come back to this in a while when i can be arsed explaining my complicated relationship with my parents.

the only reason i wanted to write this today was so that i could tag the post with like june 2021 or something and not june/july, but i might make another post later, Anyway happy end of pride month i supose, hope u figure it out me!

[justsoyoudonthaveto]

Would you believe that a) it’s Halloween and I’m writing about a Christmas movie; b) we’re just 2 months away from this entire shitty year and c) this is my 100th blog post?!?!?  I can’t believe it and I’m living that right now! 

I’m sure you’ve all noticed that I’ve taken a huge break from doing these this year. And with this year, I’m sure you all understand. For a long time I didn’t want to watch sunny shows where the hero just wants to be happy and explore his need to be a mime in Paris while simultaneously running away from his family’s law practice, where the heroine just needs him to buckle down and be serious. Running away from a well-paying job? Are you freaking insane? And love might be all you need, but it sure is helpful if you don’t have to worry about medical bills. This year has been exhausting, and I just couldn’t. As much as these movies are comfort food, I needed something different, which explains why I watched Great British Baking Show twice, learned how to make a killer lemon drizzle and amazing bread, and stress-read Twitter about the state of the country. All of which means that this weekend, which saw me take time off to self-care and watch BBC’s North and South for the first time and immediately plan for a re-watch, has me back to Christmas Movies, with this gem of a movie that should have everything. So let’s get going for One Royal Holiday.

I will start by saying I love Laura Osnes. I voted for her when she was on the Grease reality show, and saw her in Bandstand 3 times. I am less of a fan of Aaron Tveit, more so because of the horrendous man perm he had to sport during Les Miserables. However, it’s not nearly as bad as the man bun I just saw on the latest concert version of my favorite musical, so I guess I should move on from the perms. Except how the hell did those perms mean an Academy Award for best hair and makeup? WTF? Anyway.

Aaron plays His Royal Highness Prince James of Galwick. Is that near Lichtenstein, or Cornwall, like that one where the heroine was from New Jersey? His mom is played by the amazing Victoria Clark and she better sing, damn it. And in the very first scene, where Queen Gabriella and Prince James are in some kind of hospital benefit thanking them for the care they gave their late husband and father, Queen Gabriella is wearing a tiara. I’m sure we’ve learned something from the countless viewings of Downton Abbey (as well as anything the Queen does) and one does not wear a tiara to a benefit during the freaking day. British accents are on point though. Good for them.

Laura Osnes is a nurse named Anna, who is heading home for Christmas, and her home is some tiny New England town where her dad owns an inn. Looks like her mom is dead. Present wrapping montage, and we’re not even 10 minutes in. And Anna is off home where there’s a wicked nor’easter heading her way (she’s in Boston).

James has to make a Christmas Eve speech, which apparently the entire monarchy of Galwick is depending on. But not before he and his mom stop at Donny’s Donuts for tea. Anna’s there for coffee and is freaking out over a “Christmas Cruller” which is basically an eclair. But horrors, the storm has grounded the royal plane, and the hotel in Boston is full up, and James and Anna have had a meet cute over the eclair, and we’ve found out that Galwick is in Northern Europe. Anna is offering her dad’s inn, and now her own car when the royal car driver says he’s not going to drive to Connecticut. Queen Gabriella is already in love with Anna, and her free eclairs, and they are all carpooling to Connecticut on roads that are remarkably traffic free. Oh, and BTW, James has not told her he’s a prince, and she’s just said her town has a Christmas Eve Pajama Ball and Oh My GOD I think I’ve fallen down the rabbit hole of Christmas Movie Cliches and I love every minute. BTW, James is a huge pill.

Royal retainer has just let the cat out of the bag to Anna’s dad and now Anna knows that they’re royalty. But because James is such a cool guy, he’s going to carry up their bags up the stairs but because he’s also royal, he doesn’t know that suitcases have handles. Anna’s BFF from high school is now the Sassy Mayor. And James has just asked for the “pillow menu” where the guests get to choose which kind of pillow to sleep on. Sassy Mayor is all about getting the royals on social media for the town, but then she gets an eyeful of Christopher, the royal retainer, and Sassy Mayor is all heart-eye emojis. And here is the first commercial break.

What is this vest and why is it weird?

Sing-a-long at the Inn, and the carolers are dressed like Dickens characters – because carolers are only allowed to dressed like Dickens characters. Gabriella and Anna are bonding over the buffet, while James is on the phone with the Prime Minister of Galwick who is clearly not a monarchist. But Gabriella loves the food at the Inn, and methinks Queenie is going to play matchmaker between Innkeeper Dad and the Cook. James missed dinner and is eating his feelings through a 5 lb container of popcorn, but Anna is nice and brings him a plate of lobster mac and cheese.

As expected, there’s been a huge snowstorm, which is not in evidence with the b-roll of shots of the house. They are snowbound and Anna wants to know what royalty does all day. James says it’s not like a Jane Austen novel where they drink tea and read poetry. No, not at all. Sometimes they have elaborate picnics. And that is a line from this beautiful movie. Another b-roll shot of the Inn, which shows the road completely plowed. But the airport is still closed, so now they can attend the Kentsbury Christmas Parade. James can’t measure up to his dead father with his make-or-break Christmas Eve Speech. FYI, James started dragging the sled of donated toys, and next shot, Anna is dragging it. So much for the chivalry of princes.

FYI – in 2 days, we won’t see any political ads on TV for almost 12 months. Huzzah!

Everyone in the little town seems to think that Anna is dating James because they are walking down the street together. James stepped in a slush puddle and now they both have to take a carriage ride back to the inn. Just go with it. Heart to heart about James’ speech worries. Anna says he should be himself. Oh, how great that advice is.

Husband just asked how great this movie is. I said the words Christmas Eve Pajama Ball. He is seriously thrilled.

The room where the Ball is going to be held had a roof malfunction, and now where are they going to have it? James suggests the Inn, so of course they’re going to do it – and before we can say Hot Chocolate – they are going to decorate the Inn’s family tree! Singing! Tree Trimming! Lights! Husband just is annoyed that all the lights in the big tangle of string lights work, because that is not reality.

DANG IT – they are going to split the ball into Pajama for Kids and Formal Ball for Adults. This is not what I signed up for.

Anna and James meet in the kitchen in their plaid jammies, and Anna name checked Captain Von Trapp, so cool, except for the fact that Christopher Plummer NEVER showed up in a bathrobe. Anna has also introduced James to the magic of a Lazyboy recliner couch. And James is now giving Anna advice about how great a formal ball would be and it’s not a slap in the face of the memory of Anna’s dead mom. Anna is also wearing way too much makeup for late night cocoa rendezvous.

Plot question – why is James a Prince, and not King? Shouldn’t he have been coronated by now?

Anna brought James up to the attic to look for ball decorations, and he seems to have a flair for decorating. They head in to town for more garland, and James borrowed skinny jeans and boots from Christopher, and that’s not weird at all. And Anna has major good ideas for James’ speech, so good for her. Shopping Montage! Decorating Montage! So Many Lights! So Many Trees! Romantic moments by a ladder! Dancing! They are going to Dance to The Christmas Waltz. WHAT IS THIS SONG? Dance Lessons Await! (FYI, I do this with younger son in our kitchen, and it is a delight of my life). Oh, man, dad just messed up that romantic dance.

Dad is Fairy Godfather here and found dresses for Anna to wear that were her mom’s. But first, Gingerbread House Building! James is good at it and he made a castle. And Gabriella just made them a Galwickian Yule Cake (which is an eclair). Christmas Eve is in 3 days, and now there’s black ice on the roads and it’s just too dangerous to go to the airport.

Sassy Friend tells her that she can work it out with Christopher, so Anna can work it out with James, but Anna is being realistic because he’s a prince and she’s a nurse, and if he’s half as eligible as Prince Harry, then she is in the right, and Sassy Mayor is living in La La Land. But whatever, Anna deserves to find Love.

Town Candlelight Sing A Long. Lots of longing looks over the candles, but Anna can’t express her love for James because they have to sing Joy to the World (without the religious 3rd verse). But they are now back in the ballroom for Anna to tell him how she feels, but she is blocked by his phone and the fact that it’s the palace, telling him that he was photographed with Anna in the town square and it’s an international scandal of Christmas Carol proportions. And because Anna is selfless, she says thanks to James and tells him he should care for his people and go be a prince. And because he’s emotionally repressed, he says ok and he heads out.

Sassy Mayor gets to go to Galwick for New Year’s because Christopher is NOT emotionally repressed. Gabriella left a gown for the cook to wear to the ball, and James has arrived home to the literally smallest castle ever. It’s smaller than Disneyland.

SAD TIMES! James and Anna both. 14 minutes left. Anna doesn’t know what to wear, but Dianne the cook looks great in the Queen’s dress. And James has figured out that Anna helped out his dad at the hospital when he was ill. Oh my goodness all the coincidences! Anna’s dress has pockets, y’all. James’ Christmas speech is on the internet, and his military uniform clearly doesn’t fit. And HUZZAH James shows up at the ball and his tuxedo suit does fit. And more about James’ dad, yada yada yada. And they kiss and head into the ballroom where they get to finish their Christmas Waltz. All Laura Osnes’ Cinderella dance experience is clearly paying off here. But we’re not done yet – everyone is in their pajamas at the fireplace for the final scene – and again Cinderella vibes, because James brought her Christmas Royal Bedroom Slippers. But he didn’t bring enough for everyone! The End.

This movie had everything and it was delightful, even if Victoria Clark didn’t sing. Sorry for the blurry pictures – WordPress changed their way of doing things while I was baking and I am still trying to figure it out. Glad to get back into this even if we’re still technically in Halloween territory. Aren’t you glad I watched, just so you don’t have to?

#100 – One Royal Holiday Would you believe that a) it's Halloween and I'm writing about a Christmas movie; b) we're just 2 months away from this entire shitty year and c) this is my 100th blog post?!?!? 

[spdersilk]

Lemon [lin x reader]

Warning(s): Cursing, champagne, kissing, kinda fluffy (nothing too bad hehe)

Summary: You and Lin were great friends back in high school. You recall all the memories the two of you shared, yearning for a chance to go back and change things. But little did you know the chance was bound to come ;)

Note: I had a fun time writing this :) I got a tinsy bit inspiration from In The Heights. Requests are open!

The smell of freshly baked goods and beverages flooded your senses, as you entered the local café that was near your block. You had come here every day precisely at 5 p.m to grab your slice of cheesecake and a cup of lavender chamiolle tea to relax. You looked outside your booth. The sky was a beautiful shade of lavender with a splash of tangerine across the horizon. A sigh escaped your lips as you sunk further into the plush velvet chair.

“as his hit musical Hamilton continues to amaze individuals of various ages, Lin-Manuel Miranda-” Your eyes snapped to the small television. Images of an energetic man flashed across the screen. You smiled for a moment. Lin-Manuel Miranda. You were the least bit surprised to see his name all over New York. Smash hit sensation. An absolute genius. Possibly a reincarnation of Alexander Hamilton. You had heard it all. You closed your eyes for a moment. Lin and you had history.The both of you had been close friends in high school.  He was a senior and you were a junior.

“Y/N, do me a favor and grab the extra sheet music from the storage room. We’re gonna need two more cellos” Your conductor said. You nodded, walking over to the storage room. ‘We have enough cellos, why would we need more?’ You thought. At the corner of your eye, you saw a boy running quickly towards the storage room. Someone had called his name and he had turned around, seconds away from slamming into the wall. Your breath hitched as you lunged for his arm, pulling him roughly into you. “Woahwoahwoahwoah” The boy said hurriedly, grabbing on to your shoulders for balance. His eyes flickered to your face for a quick moment. “Are you okay?” You asked. Lin-Manuel Miranda. He was a senior. If you did anything as close to laying a finger on him, he would either shrug it off or make you the school’s new laughing stock. You had your bets on the latter. He swiftly let go of you and ran his fingers through his hair. “I'm fine. You look a little winded there yourself.” He smirks, carefully examining his surroundings before looking back at you. You furrowed your eyebrows. Did he forget that you were the one who just saved him from a bloody nose? “Uh-” You started but he cut you off. “Babe, if you wanted my number you could’ve just asked. No need to get all touchy.” He said rather loudly. A couple of guys his age barked in laughter. You grimaced and side stepped him, deciding to not dig yourself a deeper grave. Lin furrowed his eyebrows in confusion for a moment, watching you pick up some sheet music. Usually the girls he flirted with would either blush or giggle. Not side step him and forget about his existence. For a moment, he flushed. He was sounding like the rest of them. Lin let out a breath. Only five more months till he can leave this hell and become himself again.

Lin wasn't always a jackass. In fact, he never was to you. It took you awhile to figure out his “dual personality” but when you understood, you were amused. Putting up a front just to fit in sounded like too much of a hassle. You took a bite of your cheesecake and let the tart lemon flavor fill your senses. Lin always seemed to remember your likes (and dislikes). Even before the two of you were friends.

“I don't understand why a dumb club requires meetings in the mornings. Do they understand that kids don't sleep till 3 a.m because of homework?” You grumbled to yourself, as you shut your locker. “No they don't. They don't call high school a “hell hole” for no reason. You turned around quickly, clutching your chest.  “Didn’t mean to scare you. I brought donuts to compensate for my unacceptable behavior yesterday. Being a dick really does take up 2/3s’ of your personality. Minus the actual-” “Okay I think its a little too early for those kind of  jokes.“ You mumbled, rubbing your eyes. “Sorry. Uh. No I mean sorry for the dick joke. It wasn't exactly a joke. Fuck, also sorry for being a dick yesterday at rehearsal.” He looked flustered for a moment before sticking out a brown paper bag. “Donuts? I heard you liked tart sweets. Well, lemon tarts. I mean, lemon flavored things” You eyed him, only making him more anxious. “Do you stalk me or something?” “No no! Crap you probably don’t even know me. I’m Lin-Manurel Miranda. Friends call me Lin. You can call me anytime. Oops sorry, there we go again. You call me Lin for real. Well not for real but if you-” “Jesus you talk way too much. I know who you are. You’ve been in every musical we’ve had so far. I was just giving you a hard time” You said, sheepishly taking the bag. Lin let out of an embarrassed laugh. “But seriously? Lemon frosted donuts? What is with you and lemons?” “What’s it with you and stalking?” “Its called being observant” “I don’t think observant people buy other people whom they have never talked to their favorite donuts to compensate for their insolent behavior”

He smiled at you and it nearly caught you off guard. It was almost as if you had forgotten how charming and alluring he looked when he smiled. “Touche” He mused. You looked away quickly, nibbling at the donut  “Am I forgiven?” He asked after a beat .You chewed thoughtfully. “Do you always try to bargain apologies with food ?” You asked, brushing your hands on your jeans. He ducked his head sheepishly. You had him pinned to a t. “No, but I don't really know how to make it up to you other than buying lemon donuts.” He grumbled. “Speaking of which, how do you even know I like lemon donuts?” You asked. “Cast parties.” He said. You furrowed your eyebrows for a moment but nodded your head. Awkwardness began to fill the air. “Okay I really don't think buying you donuts erases away my behavior from yesterday.” He said. “That would be a correct statement.” You retorted, rocking back on your heels. “Let me make it up to you? There’s this really cool café that's opened up. They have stellar cheesecakes. Some of them lemon. Meet me there at 5 and I’ll prove it to ya.” He pleaded. You looked at him. His eyes had a strange glint and you could see how nervous you made him. It almost flattered you. “Are you tryna give me diabetes or something?” You asked, shutting your locker and grabbing your books. “They say sugar is the key to the heart” “Whoever said that was probably a diabetic” He let out a laugh, and you grinned. “So its a deal?” He asked, his eyes hopeful. You were taken aback for the second time. He was being genuine. You blinked, and looked at your sneakers and back at him. He had the same look. You shrugged in response. He chuckled happily. “i’ll see you then!” He called, trotting towards his locker.

And that was how your friendship bloomed. You looked longingly at your half eaten cheesecake. This café brought back so many memories, it almost hurt. The two of you would always spend your afternoons here. Splitting money to pay for the cheesecakes, paninis, pina coladas. He even seemed to acquire a taste for lemon flavored cheesecake. Sometimes, he would invite you over to his house and his mom and dad would cook dinner while listening to music. He would teach you how to dance but most of the time it ended up with you stamping on his feet and clutching onto his chest so you wouldn't fall. He would laugh so hard, there were tears in his eyes.

You glanced back at the t.v. Lin wasn't on it anymore. It was broadcasting the local news. You closed your eyes again. You remembered a particular night. It was one of your favorites. The night before everything blew apart.

“Lin, your parents aren't home. I'm pretty sure they would be pissed to see-” “Relax! They love you almost more than me. And to be honest, its kinda scary. Plus, they are on vacation for the weekend. We’ve got the place to ourselves” He said, opening the door and holding it for you. You hid your blush, turning away from him. Feelings were one thing you were able to control all your life, as ridiculous as it sounds. But Lin confused you. He steered you off the tracks by saying small things that meant more to you then you would care to admit. He would look at you sometimes, softly with a small grin on his lips. You would look away of course, trying to hide your blush. He grabbed a bottle that looked like champagne. Your eyes widened. “I graduate next week, I thought we would celebrate.” He said happily, a glint of sadness in his eyes. Your heart dipped. He would be gone. In a week. No more dancing. No more café “dates”. No more Lin. You gulped and matched his feign happiness. “We don’t have any cups.” He grinned, opening the bottle. You giggled, watching the champagne spill everywhere. Lin took a gulp from the bottle, a little longer than you would have expected. He let out a breathy chuckle, handing it to you. You laughed as he got up and starting jumping around. You took a generous sip, and joined him. The two of you spent the rest of the night sharing the bottle and talking about anything and everything.

“Do you wanna dance?” He asked after a moment. You laughed. “No way! I’m going to walk all over you again.” But he wasn't listening. He put in one of his parents old cassettes, and the house was flooded with slow music. “You didn't teach me this kind of dance.” You said quietly, as he walked over to you. He didn't answer, taking your hand softly. His hand pressed against the small of your back. Timidly, you placed a hand on his shoulder, keeping your gaze down. “ Y/N, look at me” He beckoned softly. You kept your eyes fixed on the collar of his shirt before slowly raising your eyes to meet his. And yet again you were thrown off guard. The look on his face made your breath hitch in your throat. His eyes were glassy from the champagne but sober. They were soft, overcome with emotion. You swallowed hard. His cheeks were pink and you could see the peach fuzz on his chin that he so desperately has been trying to grow. Your eyes settled on his soft pale pink lips. You let out a small hiccup and he smiled softly, twirling you around. “Has anyone told you that you have the softest prettiest smile when your guard is down?” He asked. You kept quiet, your eyes flickering down. “How come your always on an edge, Y/N?” He asked again. You didn't say anything, letting him twirl you. He pulled you closer to his chest. “I-” You choked. Feelings were flooding in your head. Your heart was pounding. He was holding you closely, his eyes intent. It was so new. He cared for you. Cared. You swallowed. “I don't know” You whispered. You could feel everything. His calloused hands that were folded within yours. His soft and staggered breathing that flushed against your cheeks. You could feel the blood rush to your ears. “Y/N-’” You blushed furiously. The way he said your name. Like it bounced off his tongue. Like music to your ears. His voice was a symphony. You wanted to hear it over and over and over again. You hummed, gaining the courage to look up at him. “Can I-” He swallowed. He was choking too. You shut your eyes tight, nodding. You were too scared. This was beyond your control, and yet you wanted it so badly. He waited for a second before softly pressing his lips against yours. You let out an involuntary sigh that spoke waves. You’ve been waiting for this. He smiled against your lips, almost as if he was responding. ‘me too’. His lips were soft and molded against yours with precision. They tasted sweet, like the champagne. You pulled away for a moment. He leaned in, yearning for more. Your lips were intoxicating. You studied him for a moment, smiling widely. He blushed, and you kissed him fiercely, trying to convey that what he felt was reciprocated all this time. You were just too scared. Too scared.

And that was where you ended it. Ever since that night, you had cut off all ties. Lin tried desperately to contact you. He had even messaged your parents, but you were stubborn. The thought of him leaving you was terrifying. But the thought of him leaving you with your heart in his hands was absolutely petrifying. So you did what you thought best. You “saved yourself” from the heartbreak by simply cutting everything off.

You leaned against the window, the familiar sense of regret taking over. That is until you heard the door chime. A man stepped inside, removing his hoodie and your breath caught in your throat. He walked towards you, a warm smile on his soft pale pink lips. “Y/N.” He greeted. “Lin? What are you doing here?” You said, quickly getting up. I’ve been looking for you. He thought. He sat down instead.

“I think you owe me a slice of some lemon cheesecake.”

[ramajmedia]

Invader Zim: The 10 Weirdest Characters On The Show | ScreenRant

Back when Nickelodeon preferred making cartoons over making overworked child stars, they produced some really impressive titles. These went down in pop culture as some of the most timeless and relevant kids shows ever. Among those once-in-a-decade gems are Spongebob Squarepants and Fairly Odd Parents, and then there's Invader Zim.

RELATED: The 10 Best Nickelodeon Cartoons, Ranked

One could often wonder how this insane cartoon was greenlit as a kids' show given how dark and horrific it can be. It only lasted two seasons but garnered a cult following-- enough to get a belated Netflix movie just recently: Invader Zim: Enter the Florpus. Fun fact: the TV series is even darker than the film. So before you dive into a show marathon, here's a refresher on Invader Zim's most bizarre characters.

10 TAK

During one episode of Invader Zim, a new alien character was introduced. Her name was Tak and like Zim, she was an Irken invader agent tasked with conquering planets for the approval of their almighty Tallest (their leaders). Despite appearing only in one episode, Tak stands out as a 'what-if' character, as in, what if Zim was actually a competent invader?

Tak would have succeeded if not for the combined forces of Dib, Zim, and Gaz; however, she's still eccentric as heck. Instead of getting revenge on Zim for causing an accident which barred her from being an invader, she tried to steal his role instead. Oh, and she apparently kept switching between a British and American accent, plus her choice of disguise is creepy.

9 ZIM

The fact that the two alien invader characters here are the least weird speaks volumes about how dysfunctional the humans are in Invader Zim. Zim does appear normal and understandable in his motivations. What's odd about him is his lack of pessimism. Zim, despite being evil and selfish appears to have the patience of a Buddhist.

He displays this with his broken assistant robot, Gir, and even keeps planning even after being met with failure after failure. That or he's just incredibly blunt which makes it even weirder since some of his inventions are pure genius.

8 GAZ

Gaz Membrane is one of the coolest characters in Invader Zim and is the heavy metal punk girl of your dreams. She also loves video games and has a hair that looks like a Satanic creature's jaw. When not bullying his brother, Dib, Gaz likes to wallow in the suffering and misfortune of others... silently.

Other times she shows a softer side to her like when she gives in to Gir's demands to dance with him and that one episode where she's trying to draw some piggy doodles. Despite appearing to not care about anything at all, Gaz has managed to thwart Zim's evil plans; she even saved the Earth at one point.

7 DIB

Invader Zim would only be half as awesome as it was without the Dib-monkey-- sorry, Dib, his nemesis enemy. In a sea of idiotic and seemingly mentally challenged humans on Earth, Dib stands out as the smartest. He's the only one to truly see Zim for who he is, an alien invader. Still, Dib's fascination for anything paranormal is enough to brand him as a lunatic.

RELATED: 10 Voices We Forgot Were Behind Our Favorite Animated Movies

That and he also makes it hard for the viewers to see who really is the protagonist in the show. Both Dib and Zim's motivations can split the viewers apart. One episode, you may be rooting for Dib; the next, you'll be cheering for Zim. Dib makes it difficult to pick sides, but also makes the show more enjoyable. Also, he's got a big head.

6 MS. BITTERS

Ms. Bitters looks to be a teacher but watch one episode with her in it and you'll be convinced that she has no business being one. She's the most nihilistic character in the show and even goes as far as call her former students worthless to their faces. Other times, she also goes hardcore on the punishments and sends students to the underground class just because.

Sometimes, however, she does give some pessimistic wisdom to her students such as how cruel life can be and how school officials don't really care about education. There's also that one time where she also quarantined the whole school and treated it like a concentration camp after discovering that one of the students had lice. Gotta love a teacher that cares for their students' health.

5 PROFESSOR MEMBRANE

Professor Membrane is Dib and Gaz's dad and also serves as the brightest mind on Earth. He's a scientist but that didn't make him aware that his son was dealing with an alien invasion. Throughout the whole series, Professor Membrane simply appears busy with his science stuff or experiments.

RELATED: 10 Best Pop Culture References Created From SpongeBob SquarePants

Also, we'll never know what's underneath that lab coat and those goggles, Membrane never takes them off. Thanks to Enter the Florpus, though, we now know that Membrane's real arms don't exist and were somehow bitten off by sharks when he was just a kid.

4 THE TALLEST

These two's eccentric and smug Irkens' names are never revealed in Invader Zim. Because when it comes to Irken culture and hierarchy, names matter less than their... heights. For someone to be respected in Irken culture, they only need to be vertically impressive or a successful invader.

Despite being tyrannical douches of an alien race, The Tallest have one thing in common with you... they love snacks! They live for snacks. Their plans involve snacks. Whether it's donuts, soda, or bags of chips, The Tallest can be seen eating 50 percent of the time. They're also fussy and prone to tantrums whenever something doesn't go there way, like most tyrants are.

3 COMPUTER

The computer will have to count as an alien character as it was made by Zim. Computer is... well, Zim's computer which he uses for maintaining his home-base and also for planning some invasion strategies for Earth. Mind you, Zim's computer is a lot more stubborn than a Windows device and is more elitist than a Mac.

RELATED: 5 Things iCarly Did Better Than Drake And Josh (And 5 Things Drake And Josh Did Better)

Sometimes it tends to go haywire and even voice out its pain or disapproval in a growly manner, seemingly as a reflection to its owner's temperament. Needless to say, Computer has the personality to withstand Zim's er, ambition. Oh, it's also voiced by Jhonen Vasquez, the show's creator, so there.

2 ROBOT PARENTS

Here we have yet again another machine character whom Zim created and treats like family... literally. The Robot Parents are the icing on the cake for Zim's disguise so he could look like a normal stinking Earth child. Because the humans in Invader Zim are none too bright, they have no trouble passing off Robot Parents as actual human parents, especially during the Parent-Teacher Night episode in the show.

That isn't to say these mechanical progenitors are perfect, they're actually pretty creepy and are prone to malfunction. This tends to happen frequently since they can only mimic what the Computer (or Gir) feeds them as normal human interactions. Even so, they're sweet enough to welcome Zim home after school.

1 GIR

Last but not least is the resident show-stealer of Invader Zim, Gir. Supposedly, he's just Zim's robot-assistant; all invaders are given one but since The Tallest just wanted to get rid of Zim, they gave him a malfunctioning robot whose brains are made of refuse and calls itself "Gir." The rest is history.

There really is no understanding Gir's chaotic personality. He can quickly turn from adorable to destructive (especially in the presence of candy). Useless as he is to Zim, however, the incompetent alien would be lost without Gir. Somehow, the two make their master and slave "relationship" work. Zim did try to fix Gir's loose bolts but then Gir ended up smarter and tried to kill him. Since then, there has been no replacement to Invader Zim's abnormally disturbed alien robot.

NEXT: The 10 Best Episodes Of Invader Zim Of All Time

source https://screenrant.com/invader-zim-weirdest-characters/

[mangokiwitropicalswirl]

Theoretical Physics

Post-Triangle one shot, at @damselindistressmya ‘s request! This is for you Mer!

PG (yeah, sorry!)

It’s not that she doesn’t believe in the possibility, it’s just that it doesn’t matter.  

Past lives are one implausible thing, but parallel universes are another altogether. The thing about theoretical physics is that it’s just that -- theoretical. If multiverse theory is true, every individual choice made by every individual person generates a new reality. Each outcome creates its own timeline. Quanta can exist in two places at once. Light is both a particle and a wave.

There’s a universe she thinks of most, where she married Ethan and is living comfortably in the suburbs with a kid or two, her ova safely unharvested. (She wonders how that Dana deals with the boredom, or if she’s long since stopped asking the hard questions, settled with her lot in life).

There’s a universe where Marcus knocked her up in high school and they ran off together, to her parents’ eternal disappointment. That Dana is working as a waitress or plodding through community college. (She knows this version is ashamed of herself, aware that she could’ve been so much more, but now there are too many choices to undo).

There’s the universe where she stayed in medicine, choosing surgery or pediatrics over pathology. Maybe that Dr. Scully saves lives every day, but is overworked and lonely.  

Or the myriad universes created every time she wanted to leave Mulder and the X Files and actually followed through. The one that first year, after Deep Throat died. The time she stepped away after her coma. The thousand Mondays when it all just seemed too much -- especially after Philadelphia when the snarl of anger in her gut threatened to unleash all her dark and girlish motives.

But what difference does it make that all these universes exist if you can’t interact with them, can’t reach them? You can’t call your alter ego on the phone so she can tell you that the grass is, if not greener, definitely a different shade of dissatisfaction.

It would be a fundamental law of every world that it’s impenetrable. That the best we could do would be to imagine their existence, or that they imagine ours.

But that’s what Mulder has been insisting, isn’t it? That he had somehow breached a quantum wall and fallen into a world where they were both themselves, but somehow other? But that the outcome of their choices there would impact here? “You were there, Scully, in 1939. You saved the world!”

Now she’s confused.

At least as confused as he had been on all those painkillers. It was painkillers, right?

She thinks back to the hospital, to the bruise on Mulder’s cheek. Once they’d drug him from the water and got him on the Navy chopper back to D.C. General, she had filled in his chart. In another accident report it seems foolish to take seriously, there were her notes detailing his waterlogged rambling. Something about Nazis and a right hook, a wartime weapon and someone who looked like her sporting a knockout -- “pun intended,” he had mumbled incoherently -- red dress.

She had stood over his bed and waited for him to wake, the day’s worth of panic, of AWACS surveillance and frenzy, sliding off her. Had she kissed Skinner in an elevator? She couldn’t remember.

How is it Mulder looked so attractive in that flimsy hospital gown? Had he been working out more lately? She had let her eyes linger over his shapely tanned arms and remembered with a flush the way she’d gripped them as he lifted her out of that cavern in Antarctica. She had had to force her gaze to return to the blossoming purple bruise around his left eye socket.

As her hands slide over the steering wheel on her drive home, she recognizes all this musing on the nature of multiverse theory for what it is -- an attempt to distract herself from the hum in the back of her brain, the near-panic that is circling and circling her subconscious. Mulder had said I love you. And she had said, “Oh brother.”

Playful exasperation has for so long been a default setting between both of them -- more often on her part, but sometimes on his -- that she had skipped straight to it before it dawned on her that he was deadly, tenderly earnest. It didn’t take long. The realization slammed into her with the solidity of a left hook as she walked out the door of his room. She had paused and gripped the wall rail just around the corner out of his line of sight.

Holy shit, he meant it.

Like, really meant it.

Fuck.

She thought for a half-second about turning around, walking back into the room and trying again, but what would she say? “I love you too.” She did. Of course she did. She’d been on the on ramp to saying all of it and more in his hallway this past summer, before the goddamn bee.

But they’d been to the ends of the earth together, and then they’d argued. And Diana had complicated things, and they had been reassigned. And now both of them were taut with a hundred things they weren’t saying. So for him to say it now, it took her by surprise. She wasn’t prepared to answer back. But. Fuck. He really meant it.

This is the phrase that had settled into a rhythm in her brain on the walk out to the car and is tormenting her all the way home as she determines, he hadn’t actually been on any painkillers.

A warmth has lodged itself in her right hipbone, and is spreading from where the back of his knuckles had lingered against her the entire time she stood at his bedside. She vacillates between blushing furiously with embarrassment at her reply, “Oh brother?” Shit! What were you thinking? and a twisting sensation in her stomach when she remembers the way he had called her back to the side of the bed. He had fixed her firmly in his gaze and his voice had deepened as he did his best to make her believe what he said.

That should have been the giveaway. For all the implausible things he has tried to convince her of, he has never tried like this. There’s always been a gimmick and a slide show. Now, his simple gravity upends her.

What are they going to do? Add this to the pile of unspoken things between them, the ballast of which is now threatening to capsize their entire relationship? And she’s still angry at him for the way he had expected her to change after Antarctica, as if he’d had finally won and her conversion was the prize.

But moments ago, she had lived in a universe where she never hadn’t heard him say I love you. Hadn’t even expected him to say it, ever.  And now, she lives in a universe where he did. A universe where he has finally, finally said something to name their increasingly intractable devotion. She blushes again, a happy split second before the cold wash of regret about her response returns and douses the warmth of the memory.

She parks the car absentmindedly and finds herself in her apartment, suddenly desperate for a friend other than Mulder she could call at this time of night. And not her mother. She can’t tell her mother about this. But she needs to analyze it, hash it out, figure out how much damage she has done, figure out what to do next. Preferably with a girlfriend over several stiff drinks.

How many years into knowing him had she let everyone else slip away? What was the moment she made the decision that created this universe where he has become absolutely everything? How many moments like this has she had -- the late night in her kitchen, after a drive home from a hospital, when she stares at her phone longingly? Sometimes it rings and sometimes it doesn’t. It feels like thousands, as if every version of every story she’s caught in boils down to these waiting moments.

Tonight, it doesn’t ring. She doesn’t think it will. She crawls into bed not expecting to sleep. But after a long time, she finally does.

There is a universe where Scully decides to let this blow over, where she greets him innocently on Monday morning, everything back to their status quo. But now she imagines that universe as a ghost ship, sailing lifelessly through dark, silent seas. She wants the lights and the music, the chase and the jump, the kiss, and the knockout.

She gets up at her weekday alarm at 5:30. She showers, throws on a black sweater and jeans and is back at the hospital by 7. He won’t be expecting her attention at the hospital for such a benign set of injuries. The overnight was just a precaution, to make sure there were no residual effects from his apparent blow to the head. She stops for coffee and donuts on the way.

He’s still asleep when she settles into the chair next to his bed, an endearing trickle of drool cascading from his open mouth into his hospital pillow. Looking over him, she feels her heart clench with what until yesterday she would have only considered protectiveness, a sense of responsibility, affection. She smiles and leans back in her chair, watching.

“What are you doing here?” His voice croaks as his eyes squeeze open.

“Brought you some donuts,” she nods toward the waxy paper sack and steaming styrofoam cup on the nightstand. “How’d you sleep?”

“Okay,” he eyes her with suspicion as he presses the buttons that angle the bed upward. He clears his throat and brushes some hair back from where it’s matted against his forehead. “This isn’t, um, our standard discharge procedure, Scully. What’s up?”

Scully racks her brain for some plausible excuse before settling on the old standby of medical expertise. “I wanted to double check your meds,” she hesitates. “I wasn’t sure they had accounted for your time underwater.”

Mulder looks at her with a raised eyebrow, waiting for more. “Donuts?”

“There’s a new shop around the corner from my place,” Scully lies, “seemed like the thing to do.”

“No other reason?” Mulder asks as the fuzziness of yesterday’s memory sharpens into clarity and he understands why she’s back.

“Well,” Scully pauses. She has an idea of how to proceed but isn’t sure she can pull it off. “I also needed some advice.”

“Advice?” Mulder straightens up, fully awake now.

“Yeah, advice.” Scully fidgets with her hands before forcing herself to meet his eyes. “A friend told me something recently, and I’m afraid my response might have hurt their feelings.”

“A friend?” Mulder looks slightly wounded, but plays along.

“Yes, a good friend.” She looks at him. “A dear friend.”

Mulder nods.

“They said something and I thought they were joking.” She sighs, shy. “I realized later they weren’t.”

“And you need my advice about what, exactly?” Mulder decides to make her work for it.

“How do I apologize?” Scully stares at him earnestly, swallowing the nervous lump that has formed in her throat.

“I guess it depends on how good of a friend this is,” he says. “And on what you wish you would have said instead.”

“It’s my best friend.” She reaches her hand and covers his where it lays on the edge of the bed. “And I wish I’d have told him, me too.”

Mulder smiles and turns his hand over to interlace his fingers in hers. But Scully continues.

“But I also need this friend to know that I don’t know what that means for me right now.” She looks down slightly, avoiding his gaze. “That I’m not sure what to do about it. And I was really surprised by what he said. I wasn’t prepared.”

Mulder runs his thumb across the top of her hand. “I’d bet your friend surprised himself too,” he suggests. “I bet he didn’t really think it all through anyway. It was just probably something he couldn’t keep to himself anymore.”

Scully nods and squeezes his hand. “What do you think this friend would want me to do next?” she asks.

“I think he’d want you to know he can wait.”

“Wait for what?” Scully raises her eyebrows.

“Wait until you know what you want to do about it,” Mulder is reassuring, still circling his thumb gently on the back of her hand. “I think he would tell you, he’s not going anywhere.”

Scully nods again and swallows, her eyes glistening slightly. “Okay.” She croaks in a whisper, smiling.

“Now, I think I was promised donuts?” Mulder grins, jerking his head toward the paper sack.

“You were,” Scully smiles and opens the bag, another universe shaping itself into being as she hands him a Boston Creme.

[secretlystephaniebrown]

Time’s Running Out: Charlie

FINALS WEEK UPDATE HAPPENED, WOOOO. Thanks everyone who's made it to chapter three, y'all are rockstars. <3

Summary: The Reds and Blues; and their respective Freelancers, find themselves stranded on a strange planet named Chorus. Secrets, lies, and the unexpected seem to lie around every corner, and there might be even larger threats looming over the horizon.

They’re possibly even less ready for Chorus than Chorus is for them.

Pairings: Lots of friendships, Suckington, Yorkalina, Chex, eventual Yorkimbalina, possible others.

Start 

Previous 

Next

Ao3

There was, Kai had to admit, a few upsides to having a broken leg.

Primarily that she no longer had to do leg day.

“I said sprints, Private Tucker!” Wash yelled.

“I’m going to spit in your next meal! Except it won’t be spit! If you know what I’m talking about!”

Kai cackled. “Doesn’t he know you’re into that by now?”

“Don’t encourage him—wait, what?”

Kai leaned on the crude crutch Donut had helped fashion for her. “You’re still mad at him for hiding the wrist thing, aren’t you?”

“He should have told us,” Wash muttered.

“So… you’re making him do squats until his ass looks as good as yours?”

“That is not why I’m making him do squats!”

“Uh-huh,” Kai said skeptically.

“Kai,” Wash groaned. She stuck her tongue out at him.

“Where’s Caboose at?”

“He’s having a bad day,” Wash sighed. “Church yelled at him again.”

“Shit, what about this time?”

“He got him confused with Epsilon again,” Wash said, sounding absolutely exhausted. Kai hobbled forward the few steps it took to get to him, leaning against him. He relaxed the second they touched.

Caboose’s bad days were getting more and more frequent. Epsilon was better with things than Church was. And Church was… moody, without Tex or Carolina around. York’s absence was bothering him too, but getting him to admit that was harder than Tucker when it was his turn to pick what kind of sex they were having.

“You’re doing pretty good,” she said. “You know. For a cop.”

Wash snorted slightly, pressing his helmet against hers. “Don’t think you’re getting out of this. I know you’ve got physical therapy with Doc later today.”

“Screw you! Maybe I’ll let Doc give me another physical!”

“Wait, did you sleep with—you know what? I don’t want to know.”

Kai huffed, mildly put out. “You could at least act jealous.”

“We’re already making Tucker jealous by cuddling while he does sprints.”

“Oooh,” Kai said, grinning at the thought. “You know—”

“We aren’t having sex outdoors, where anyone could see us, just so you can prove your broken leg hasn’t slowed you down,” Wash said.

“Boring,” Kai said, scowling.

Wash chuckled and placed a hand on her knee.

Tucker finally returned, collapsing in front of them. “You’re both the worse,” he gasped out, chest heaving like it did the last time Kai and Wash had double teamed him. “Seriously, the absolute worst.”

“I told you I was going to break you,” Wash observed. “You seemed pretty enthusiastic then.”

“I thought you meant in a hot sex way!” Tucker hadn’t moved from the ground. “Not this weird masochistic drill sergeant thing!”

“Oooh! We totally need to role play that later! Or, wait! We can do the pizza guy and the—”

“Let’s table that conversation for later,” Wash said, placing his hand over his visor. “Tucker… you know I just want you to be able to look after yourself. In case something happens.”

“Dude, that’s why we have you. What’s the point of the badass boyfriend if he can’t defend you from the forces of evil?”

“Abs?” Kai suggested.

“Well, that too.”

“Tucker, please,” Wash said quietly. “With Tex and Carolina gone…”

Things were different. Wash was the only Freelancer around, and it was… it was pretty weird. It was like when York had left Blood Gulch, making Tex their only Freelancer.

Dex and the rest of the Reds—and Doc, because it wasn’t like he was going to go far from wherever Donut was—had set up shop across the canyon. Dex came to visit her mostly, since it was hard for her to walk around with her leg. Sometimes she drove over in the tank, but it made Sarge twitchy, and a twitchy Sarge usually led to squeaky Wash, so she tried to save that for special occasions or instances of extreme boredom.

There was something in the air that Kai didn’t like. When Tex had been the only Freelancer, Kai had ended up alone for a long time.

She didn’t want to be left alone again.

Felix grinned as he listened to Locus in his radio. It helped make the chatter of the idiots following him almost tolerable.

The crack of Locus’s sniper rifle was almost comforting as he started to pick off the survivors. One down, then two, then three. Finally, the group was dead, and Locus moved in.

“Still no sign of the simulation troopers,” Locus observed in Felix’s ear. Felix frowned, puzzled about where they could have gotten to.

“Sir!” One of the kids—Andersmith—yelled. “Footprints! Leading into the forest!”

Damn, he was observant. “Well, let’s follow them,” Felix said. Running into Locus was as good a reason as any to kill off these kids.

His real radio crackled to life. “Sir! Three of the survivors split off; I think they were heading for higher ground!”

“Find them,” Locus ordered. “We’re about to have company.”

Felix tightened his grip on his rifle. Things were off-script. And while Felix might normally enjoy the chaos, Control wouldn’t be happy. And Control not being happy usually affected their paycheck.

“Keep it quiet,” he ordered into his helmet as loudly as he could without risking the kids picking up on it.

Locus growled slightly in his ear. He didn’t like the situation any more than Felix did. Everything was spiraling out of control; first the ship hadn’t crashed properly, and now this? Survivors didn’t make it off the ship.

This wasn’t supposed to happen.

Fuck—he’d lost Palomo when he wasn’t looking, too caught up in his own thoughts. He turned around, craning his neck. “Palomo!”

There was a loud screech, and for a second Felix thought that one of the pirates had found and killed the irritating Rebel. The sound of Palomo yelling, “Wait, you’re not a Fed!” crushed those dreams quickly.

Felix crashed through the underbrush, but the others beat him to it. “A survivor?” Matthews breathed. “General Kimball!” Felix opened his mouth to tell the kid not to bother—they were far out of range—but there was a screeching noise and the radios connected. Felix felt another piece of the puzzle fall out of his hands and tumble out of sight. There was no way the radios should be working. What the fuck was going on? “Kimball! We found a survivor!”

“What?” Kimball was incredulous.

Felix bit his tongue, knowing Locus was listening intently through the radio, and walked towards the others. They were surrounding the fallen form of a soldier in dusty-gold armor—Palomo, it seemed, had panicked and attacked. And succeeded. Whoever they were dealing with clearly couldn’t be that much of a threat.

“Kimball!” Jensen said. “I recognize him! He’s Private Harris!”

“Who?” Felix asked.

“You know!” Jensen said. “From the Reds and Blues.”

“Felix,” Locus said lowly. “New orders from Control.” Only Felix would be able to tell the tension in Locus’s voice as he said that, the danger hidden in those words. Whatever the orders were, Locus wasn’t happy about it. And if Locus didn’t like the orders…

“Are you fucking kidding me?” Felix snapped to both Locus and Jensen.

“Control wants the Reds and Blues alive.”

God. Fucking. Damn it.

“Confirmed, Kimball,” Felix said, scowling down as he knelt to check on the guy. The lucky bastard’s visor was shattered, probably beyond repair. Felix shrugged to himself and tugged off the guy’s helmet, curious about the face underneath.

“Felix?” Locus demanded softly, and Felix realized Locus had found a perch nearby, was observing all of this through the scope of his rifle.

“Control wants them alive, remember?” Felix said, so softly that the others couldn’t hear him over their own discussions about the Reds and Blues and their achievements.

“Well then, Private Harris,” Felix said out loud, for the benefit of Locus as well as the idiots surrounding him. “Where the fuck did your friends get to?”

<Cee, I can’t reach Alpha anymore.>

Carolina worried a sore on her lip with her teeth. “And no sign of Delta?”

“None,” Texas said, dumping a load of firewood next to the fire.

Carolina gritted her teeth. “I was asking Epsilon.”

“And our range is about the same,” Texas said with a shrug. “So it doesn’t matter. We’re out of range. No messages from anyone.”

Carolina gritted her teeth and poked at the MRE they had grabbed. Texas didn’t require food, which at least made supplies easier. At least there was one upside to having Texas as a companion on her search for York.

“There’s something weird about the way the radios are behaving,” Epsilon said, appearing on Carolina’s knee. “It’s… I can’t think of why half of the frequencies aren’t working at all, and the rest are only working short range.”

Tex raised one shoulder in a shrug. “Could be an atmospheric thing.”

“I guess,” Epsilon said, but he sounded doubtful.

“You heard that chatter a few miles back?” Texas asked, looking at Carolina directly.

“Yes,” she said tensely. “It sounded like…”

“The bubble shield,” Tex finished for her. “Freelancer tech on this planet?”

“One hell of a coincidence,” Carolina had to admit.

“Pirates, Freelancer tech… could be fun,” Texas was goading her, she knew it. “It’d just be a short detour.”

“They might know something about where the other half of the ship crashed,” Carolina acknowledged. Maybe a fight would relax her, too. Maybe it would let her meet Tex’s helmeted gaze for more than five seconds at a time.

“You run ahead,” Tex said. “I’ll catch up.”

Epsilon started to prime the speed boost.

The fight was painfully short—the knots in Carolina’s shoulders didn’t loosen at all, and it was still just strange to have Tex fighting beside her.

Tex picked her way through the crates the pirates had been guarding, calling out what she found while Carolina tried to interrogate the sole survivor.

“Just shoot him already,” Tex said coldly when it became clear their prisoner wasn’t going to talk. “If he knows where it crashed it’s probably in his logs. We don’t need him alive for that.”

“Is that your answer to everything?” Carolina asked sharply.

Tex’s response was simply to raise her gun and do exactly that. Carolina didn’t flinch as the blood splattered everywhere. She’d seen worse. Done worse too. But there was still something unsettling about the cold, mechanical way Tex executed the prisoner.

“You’re still upset about that?” Texas sighed, kneeling down to pick up the helmet.

Carolina went still. “We’re not talking about that,” she said.

“Then stop looking at me like that!”

“I’d rather not look at you at all,” Carolina snarled. “You had no right—”

“You made that call. I never agreed to follow it. You’re not the only one he hurt, Carolina.”

“I’ve got a location!” Epsilon yelled, clearly determined to not let this conversation take its natural course, which Carolina was fairly certain would only lead to blows. “It’s called “Crash Site Alpha”, it’s pretty far from here, but I bet we can make it in a few days.”

“Damn it,” Carolina cursed.

“He’s York,” Tex said. “He’s survived this long without us, he can make it a few days still.”

Neither of them wanted to admit the possibility that York hadn’t survived the crash.

“Let’s get going then,” Carolina said.

“You haven’t slept since the crash,” Texas said flatly. “You’re going to sleep at least four hours.”

“You—”

“I’d really rather not have to punch your lights out again, Carolina,” Texas said. “Last time, it took you forever to wake up.”

Carolina’s scowl only deepened at the reminder.

“Sleep, Carolina,” Texas said. “A few hours won’t make much difference for York.”

York woke up with a splitting headache and his HUD broken.

<York!>

And here York hadn’t realized Delta was capable of raising his voice. An AI shouting in his head hurt. Or that could possibly be the concussion.

“I’m fine, Dee,” he muttered. “Just… give me a second, okay?”

<Healing unit is running at full capacity.>

“Great,” York groaned. “The others?”

<I cannot detect anything in range. But it is possible that the radiation from the ship’s engines are interfering with my sensors.>

York groaned, getting to his feet. The world wobbled before readjusting. He possibly had a concussion. Not good. Those always took forever for the healing unit to fix up. “Anyone nearby?”

<Several officers are in the room to your left.>

York’s movements were jerky at first, but he made his way over to the room. Two were unconscious, one was dead. York woke up the first two, and the three of them headed further into the ship, looking for other survivors.

The ship was a disaster, and everywhere they turned, there were bodies. Holes had been ripped through the hull, smoke filled the air, and York was pretty sure they were currently walking on the ceiling instead of the floor.

“How could this have happened?” One of the crew memebers demanded. “This—I don’t understand!”

“We can figure that out later,” York said grimly. He was very aware of the shotgun strapped to his back in that moment. He had a feeling he might need it sooner rather than later. “Right now, we need to find our way off this ship. I think there might be a radiation leak.” Delta buzzed nervously, still desperately trying to find the others, with no luck.

“Fuck,” the other said.

There were fifteen survivors altogether that York could find before they stumbled out of the ship.

“Where the hell are we?” One of the mechanics whispered, looking around.

“No idea,” York said numbly. Delta was just as confused as everyone else, not recognizing any of the flora that they could see, or even the positions of the stars.

They were in a ship graveyard—the broken husks of ships laid out clearly enough that every single one of York’s instincts were telling him it was a trap. This many ships in one area made it seem like a junkyard, rather than a natural crash site. There was no way this was a coincidence, but he had no idea what kind of thing could have brought down so many ships in one place. In the distance lay a forest; tropical, from the looks of it, thick and dark and green.  

“Let’s move towards the forest,” York said, gesturing broadly. “Maybe there’s a town nearby.”

“Right,” one of the others said—a pilot, York thought, but he didn’t have a name.

It was slow going—several of them were injured, and at one point York and one of the larger women had to carry one of the others, but eventually they limped into the forests.

“You guys try to make contact through the radios,” York ordered, although Delta was already screaming out, trying to contact Tex, Epsilon, or Alpha, to no avail. “Martinez, Nguyen—” he named the burly woman who had helped him carry the injured crew member and the pilot, whose names he had learned as they made their trek into the woods, “you two, let’s try to find higher ground. See if we can spot a town or anything.”

“I’d ask who the fuck put you in charge, but…” Martinez said darkly, glancing around. The other twelve were hanging back, hands to their radios as they tried to call for help. Delta was trying to boost the signal as best he could, but there was… something was still interfering with the radios, and Delta didn’t know what it was. York didn’t like it when Delta didn’t know things. It made him twitchy.  

“We’re really all that made it?” Nguyen said softly, looking over her shoulder.

“There might be others,” York said, placing a hand on her shoulder. Fuck, she was young. “It looked like it was only half of the ship back there.”

<By my calculations, it is likely the others were on the other half of the ship.> Delta said, and the feeling of relief that was sinking into York’s bones wasn’t entirely his own. <It is possible that they are fine, just out of range.>

York decided to put his faith in the Reds and Blues’ impossible luck. If anyone could survive the impossible, it was them.

There was a rustling noise in the distance, and York’s eyes narrowed. It sounded like someone moving. Someone following them, maybe?

<York!> Delta sounded panic. <The others are no longer attempting to reach out on their radios!>

“Fuck,” York said. He glanced over his shoulder. “You two, keep going, I think I’ve heard something.”

With his damaged HUD, York couldn’t tell if it was a rabbit or a person in the bushes, and Delta couldn’t get a proper read. But he crept forward anyways, Delta’s terror humming in his head bad enough to give him a migraine. But he felt it too—maybe he’d felt it since they’d entered these woods.

York had been hunted before. He knew what it felt like to be dogged for hours, days even on end. He’d gotten lucky the last time. He wasn’t so sure he’d like to try his luck on surviving another round.

But he was feeling that way again. And that made him nervous.

He nearly tripped over the kid in armor. And all the AI enhanced reflexes couldn’t make him catch his balance in time to block the rifle butt to the face, knocking him out cold on the spot.

Damn it.

When he woke up, Delta was absolutely silent. Still present, sure—York could feel Delta’s anxiety curling up in his chest like a knot—but completely and utterly silent. It was an unusual occurrence, and one that put York right on edge. Something was very, very wrong.

“Ugh,” York groaned, looking around, trying to get his bearings. He’d been taken out of the woods and propped up in the back of a warthog which wasn’t moving yet. His helmet was gone—but, given the complete mess his visor had been, that really wasn’t all that surprising.

“Easy there,” a voice said. “You’ve got a concussion. Try not to move too much.”

“The others,” York rasped. “Where are—”

“We found the other scouts,” the man said. “Martinez and Nguyen? They’re alright. The others are making sure they have medical attention. But we weren’t fast enough for the rest. I’m sorry.”

York’s head was swimming, but he managed to turn his head enough to look for the source of the voice. At least Martinez and Nguyen made it, he thought distantly, even as he wondered what the fuck had happened to the rest of the group. And more importantly, why the three of them hadn’t been killed like the others.

His eye finally focused, and he saw orange. Not Grif orange, with the yellow undertones that made him yell so much, but orange. Orange on grey and a hint of steel…

“Finally,” the voice said, mocking and confident. “I thought you were going to be out of it all day.”

“Sorry to disappoint,” York groaned, trying to remember exactly what had happened. The last thing he remembered… “Where am I?”

“Welcome to the planet Chorus,” the man said, leaning against the warthog next to York, helmet tilted in a way that indicated a smirk.

York straightened up slowly, cradling his head in his hands. “Well hey there Felix,” he said, finally placing the voice and why Delta was being so quiet. “Long time no see.”

[noprepracing]

Jeff Lutz is one of the most relatable guys I have come across. He grew up in a town outside of Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania. He isn’t like most of the other drivers out there, he fully immersed into racing a little later on in life. His first car was 1974 hatchback Nova that he was given by his father at the age of 14, but he never got to drive it. Jeff moved out when was young. Shortly after he met his wife. They bought a house when he was just 18 years old and she was 17. The newlyweds had kids super early in life, because of this, Jeff is able to live the life he has today. Life has been tough but because of all of it he is able to experience the joys of working on cars with his son today. Jeff loved watching drag racing on T.V. So when his oldest brother Rick came home from the Marines he asked Jeff to look at a car with him he jumped at the chance. It was a 70 and a half split bumper Camaro with a 400 4-speed built to the hilt. His brother couldn’t drive stick all that well so Jeff took a crack at it. He dropped the clutch and away they went. The next day they took it to the track and the rest is history. That was the first time he ever been to the track. Jeff is also the first major car guy in his family, his father had some pretty mean cars all his life but never did anything to them. His dad had told him he’d never make any money working and racing with cars, yet here we are today. Later on, his father was his biggest fan before he passed away in 2015. The last race he got to see Jeff at was Norwalk, where he was runner up against Jim Bell. In 1988 he bought an IROC-Z which his wife drove to work for just about a year before Jeff’s upgrades began. Getting more and more into the car world, he wanted to put big tires on it. Old man Miller helped him out, and from there he knew he wanted to work with cars. After some time working, he slowly started buying equipment for his shop. From bricklayer to chassis welder, Jeff had one hell of a leap of faith. He had his own brick and block company and was part of the bricklayers union. Once the housing market crashed, he hung up his mason tools and equipment. He went into the garage and never left. Lucky for him, he always had a small shop to work with the cars for himself and side business for others. That leap he took paid off, he now has a two-year waiting list of people who want him to work on their cars. As Jeff says, “it’s a dream come true”. He gets to work on things that he loves with his family by his side. His wife works in the office and his son is in the garage with him. Welding was something he always did. He was self-taught out of necessity, building his own tools and equipment as he needed. While working for Cody Mac Motorsports in Connecticut, who happened to own some Dunkin Donuts up there, Jeff would teach himself how to tick weld on the donut trays he had to fix. He got so good that he decided to give it shot and built his very own car trailer.

“Life has been good with it, it’s a dream come true driving for these guys on No Prep Kings and Street Outlaws”. Jeff got involved with Street Outlaws with a simple phone call. He started doing some work for the guys and the next thing he knew, he was invited to race with the best of them. Jeff is still learning on the street. He owes Ryan Martin a lot of thanks as well as Chief (Justin Shearer) and Shawn Ellington for showing him the ropes with street racing. He is still learning every day. Given the choice between street and the strip, he would choose the strip every time. It’s where he began and what he is used to. No prep is his favorite. “I can work from time slips and it’s all in a controlled area so I can work on things and tweak what needs to be. The street is tricky though, you only use 30% of your horsepower, and drag week you use it all”. Drag week is a begrudging, miserable, grueling task, and the worst thing to do with a car but that doesn’t stop him. Jeff has had his fair share of drag week times as well, he is currently a world record holder there for the world’s fastest pass. Currently, he has the yellow 57 Chevy and Mad Max the pro-mod, and his son Jeffery has the original 57 and drives the Civic. Jeffery also purchased a 1986 IROC-Z which he plans to make as a tribute car to the original IROC that his father had and paint it yellow. Not many people know that the original black 57 and the yellow 57 are different cars. The original 57 was supposed to be yellow but from all the fans and other drivers loving the black, they were calling it sinister so he decided to keep it that way. With his current 57, it dons the iconic red headlights, which were not a particular plan he had in mind. A friend of his asked him to advertise for them and he did. The headlights are LED and can be changed, but the intimidation factor is pure and evil. Some of his favorite drivers are Larry Dixon NHRA, Ron Capps NHRA, Clay Millican of IHRA and Cory McClenathan of NHRA. Jeff was stunned when one day at a SEMA, Cory had once waited in line for 2 hours just to get a Jeff Lutz autograph. To this day Jeff considers Cory and Clay some of his best friends. Building race cars and doing what he does best, racing, is the epitome of living the dream for him. Following his passion and drive is what got him this far and will keep doing so. He says there isn’t anything else he would rather be doing. A favorite track event of his is the Orlando World Street Nationals. He ran Heavy Street and then graduated to pro-mod racing. He was a force to be reckoned with and loved every aspect of it. Today he loves watching daily drivers at the track events. “It’s fun to see the moms and dads out there driving the minivans and taking people out”. One thing that keeps the public attracted to these shows and events is the fact the drivers are so relatable to the viewer or spectator. Blessed with an understanding family, Jeff is by far one of the luckiest guys in the world. It’s a whole family ordeal and they are all excited for him. With his wife in the shop and coming to the races, and having his son work beside him is a gift. His other family members enjoy his T.V. fame as well. Jeff’s grandma is his biggest fan. She follows the show and has all the family that are in Kentucky keep tabs on him while he is there. Jeff also gets great joy and is beyond grateful when he gets to see the yellow 57 on all the commercials and advertisements.

Aside from his iconic car, Jeff is also known around the pits to be a nice guy. He’s the one who is out there helping everyone in need. That’s just who he is, his fault is being too nice sometimes and he always tries to find the good in everyone. Some of the biggest struggles he deals with is keeping the car together doing all 12 races in the season. But he loves the grind and the hustle. He is beyond thankful that Summit and other companies who understand what these guys and gals do and are on board with No Prep Kings and are able to same day delivery when needed. He is always waiting and ready to go to the next event and do his best. In his rare downtime, he likes to spend some quiet time on the lake property he has, or play a little on the drums. Jeff confessed that he learned how to play the drums from his father at a young age and still plays from time to time, Triumph – Lay it on the Line is a choice favorite. Once again keeping us fans glued to the fact that these drivers are in fact, human. If he could have a legacy it would be that he has the world’s fastest 57 Chevy and the world’s fastest pro-mod. Jeffery will be running with these after he is gone. According to Jeff, his son is a better welder than he is so he’s not worried. Lutz racecars will be something to carry on forever. Jeff is by far one of the coolest, and mellow guys in person, but put him in the seat of a car that’s ready to race, watch out. Stop by the pit and thank him for keeping and embodying the spirit of racing alive and well, helping out one another while giving us all one hell of a show to watch.

Special thanks to Lou at 405 Photo as well for some amazing shots.

Check out more of Lou’s work at 405 Photo

The post Jeff Lutz is living his dreams appeared first on No Prep Racing NoPrep.com.