#but to drive really well you need to know what the cars and pedestrians around you are going to do

[servuscallidus]

I drive like shit I hate this

[7s3ven]

DRIVING LESSONS. luke (pjo)

Normal! Au

( master list )

IN WHICH… Luke attempts to teach Percy how to drive and, in the process, almost crashes into Luke’s long time crush. But maybe he can spin it in his favor.

—

Luke was like an older brother to many. He had warm and comforting aura that people seemed to gravitate towards.

“Don’t get hurt, seaweed brain.” Annabeth warned Percy, pointing a stern finger at him. Luke chuckled as he leaned against the hood of his shiny car. Percy needed driving lessons and Luke was more than happy to help. Though, he knew he was going to regret it. Annabeth and Sally were both too terrified to teach Percy but Luke was up for the challenge.

“Turn on your blinker, Percy.” Luke reminded the teenage boy for the fifth time.

“My what?” Percy only stared at Luke in utter confusion.

“Your turn signal. And keep your eyes in the road!” Luke exclaimed as another car whizzed past, narrowly avoiding crashing into them. Percy immediately glued his eyes back to the view in front of him, sheepishly smiling.

"Sorry." He whispered.

“Turn slowly here.” Luke instructed, nodding when Percy finally remembered to press his blinker. Percy turned painfully slow, matching the speed of a sloth, and Luke held back an annoyed groan.

“So, when did you start driving?” Percy asked. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Luke shrug.

“I’m not sure. Around your age or a little older.” Luke was in his twenties now, already having secured a well-paying job which helped pay for half of Annabeth’s tuitions. The other half was paid by a scholarship she earned.

“Have you met any cute girls?”

Luke lightly snorted, grinning in amusement. “Why are you asking me that, Percy? You know I can see how you look at Annabeth. I should be asking you how it’s going with her.”

Percy and Annabeth had always been stuck between friends and lovers and it was driving Luke insane. He wanted to shove the two of them together and demand they admit their feelings.

“Okay, but have you met any cute girls?” Percy was persistent, which suited his given name. Luke scoffed, tilting his head back. He had but he didn’t want to admit it to Percy. How was he supposed to tell Percy that he was still in love with the same girl from high school?

He thought he was over his feelings but he saw her in a coffee shop one day and everything came flooding back. Their playful flirting, their late night rants as they lay in each other’s arms while listening to Luke’s playlist, and that kiss they shared in their last year. Annabeth was already calling Luke a loser for liking her again, he didn’t need Percy doing the same.

“I guess.” Luke finally answered. “I’m not really attached to any of them, though.” Because his mind was always on Y/N, his high school sweetheart.

“Are you gay?” Percy asked out of the blue, causing Luke to choke in surprise.

“Am I- No! I’m not gay, Percy! I like girls but I wouldn’t date any of the girls I meet!”

“Is it because you’re still obsessed with her?”

Luke knew who he was talking about. He clicked his tongue, giving Percy the indirect answer that he needed. Percy wasn’t so clueless after all.

In all Luke’s years of babysitting Annabeth and Percy, he had only brought one girl over, who happened to be Y/N. They were working on a school project but Annabeth still liked to tease him about the way he gazed at Y/N.

Percy made the mistake of tearing his eyes away from the road again. “Percy!” Luke shouted as soon as he spotted someone walking across the pedestrian crossing, “Eyes on the road!” Percy, in a panic, slammed his foot against the break. The car screeched to an abrupt halt and both boys were sent flying forward. If it weren't for their seat belts, they would've crashed through the windshield.

There was a soft knock on Luke’s window and he turned his head, mortified to see the very girl he was just thinking about. The brunette slowly rolled the window down, thickly gulping.

“Hey.” Y/N greeted him, resting her arms on the sill, “You know, people usually stop at the crossing. They don’t almost run someone over.”

“Yeah, sorry about that. It’s his first time and he’s still pretty nervous.” Luke jabbed a thumb in Percy’s direction. The blond boy was sweating, gripping the steering wheel tightly. He sent Y/N an apologetic smile.

“Oh, Percy. I haven’t seen you in a while.” Y/N grinned at him, “You’ve grown up so fast. Last time I saw you, you were smashing into walls.” Percy’s cheeks heated up at the memory. “Glad to see you still have that habit. Though, instead of walls now, it seems you like to crash into people. You weren't thinking of committing a hit and run, right?"

“How have you been, Y/N?” Luke changed the subject to spare Percy from the embarrassment of Y/N’s teasing remarks. “You disappeared after high school. And the last time I saw you was in a cafe. I barely had time to ask.”

“I went to university in Europe.”

“And you got your law degree, I assume?”

“Conjoint, actually. I majored in law with a minor in psychology.”

Luke whistled, impressed. He barely passed university. “So, what are you doing now?”

“Well, I was taking a calming walk before I almost got killed.” She chuckled, an amused glimmer flashing in her eyes. Percy sank deeper into Luke’s leather car seat. “If you need help with teaching Percy to drive, I’d be happy to help. You look like you need it.” She fished out a card from her purse, handing it over to Luke. “I changed my number, by the way. That’s my personal one. Feel free to contact me, Luke.”

She bid the pair farewell and once she was out of earshot, Percy and Luke turned to face each other.

“Oh my gosh, she gave you her number!”

“Bro, I got her number!”

It was safe to say that Luke spent the rest of the terrifying car ride feeling elated despite being tossed around in the vehicle with Percy and almost throwing up once or twice.

Luke was dreading the next day with Percy because the young boy was not a good driver. At all. Not only had Percy narrowly avoided crashing into a pole and took off one of Luke’s mirrors in the process, but they also got chased by the cops for going over the speeding limit. Twice. And he couldn't forget how they almost killed Y/N.

Luke was thinking of ditching Percy but he was technically Annabeth’s boyfriend, even if she didn’t want to admit it.

His phone buzzed and his eyes darted to the screen for a split second. He looked back at the road, quickly stomping his foot onto the break. His heart sank for the second time this week. This was not how he wanted to meet Y/N again.

Y/N was teasingly grinning as she made her way over to his window. She knocked on it, bending down to match his height. “Hey, Luke.” She uttered, clicking her tongue. She playfully pursed her lips as she watched Luke sigh, his head resting against the wheel. “You and Percy seem to have one thing in common. Almost crashing into me.”

Luke’s cheeks flushed bright pink. “I didn’t mean to… I swear.” He uttered.

“It’s fine, Luke. As long as you don’t actually hit me. Because if you do, I will run you over too.” Y/N smiled, acting as if she didn’t just whisper a threat in Luke’s ear.

“I’m actually going to pick up Percy right now. Do you want to, uh, join me? I might throw up less with you around. Partly in fear of embarrassing myself.” Luke chuckled to himself while Y/N huffed in amusement.

“As long as I don’t land in hospital, I’m up for it.”

“No promises.”

Y/N climbed into the passenger seat, shutting the door behind her. She tilted her head to the side as she picked up a Lancôme lipstick. “I never took you as lipstick person, Luke.” She joked, holding up the tube.

“It’s Clarisse’s.” He said. Despite their differences, the two were quite close in high school. And they still were.

“You two dating already? Everybody shipped you two.” Y/N chuckled, turning her head to look at Luke.

“We’re just friends.” Luke said.

“Oh, come on. You must like a girl. Who’s the lucky one, huh?”

You, Luke almost said.

“I’m not interested in any girls right now.” He said instead. Y/N quirked an eyebrow.

“Are you gay? Wait, I kissed you while you were gay?!” Y/N gasped while Luke wildly shook his head.

“Why does everyone think I’m gay?!” He exclaimed.

"You've never dated anyone, Luke. It makes people think things." Y/N chuckled as leaned back in her seat. "I remember when everybody thought you and Chris were an item. Your fangirls were devastated. It was hilarious."

"What about you?" Luke asked, "How did... you feel?" Y/N faltered. She slowly turned her head to look at Luke before shyly diverting her gaze.

"I was more preoccupied with laughing over the sad girls with my friends." She uttered, "But I had a feeling you weren't gay. Your fashion sense back then was a dead give away that you were straight."

Luke clicked his tongue, "Was that meant to be an insult or a compliment?"

Y/N silently shrugged, flashing him a small grin. "A bit of both, I think."

Silence eventually settled between the pair. The car engine quietly hummed and Y/N glanced out the window as the radio played a soft melody. She thickly gulped as Luke pulled into Percy's driveway, a little disappointed they'd no longer be alone.

"Y/N." Luke quickly turned to her as soon as he pulled the keys out of his car. She met his gaze, confused as she gestured for him to continue. She watched as Luke took a deep breath. "Do you remember when I asked you if you had a partner for prom?"

"Of course. I went with Jake."

"I know that. But do you remember when you told me about Jake and I looked a little sad?" Luke was usually straight-forward with his sentences but he couldn't find the right words in this moment. Y/N slightly tilted her head.

"Yeah... you looked crushed." She said in a joking tone, causing Luke to gently chuckle.

"I looked sad because... I wanted to ask you out. Because I liked you. And I didn't ask anyone else out or accept any other offers because you were the only person I wanted to go with. And when you kissed me in our senior year, I couldn't feel happier, even if it was only because you wanted to feel a teen romance. And when you left... I didn't leave my room for ages. Annabeth had to drag me out. I was scared that you would find another person and I didn't want you to leave me behind."

Y/N gazed at him in silence. Luke cleared his throat, nodding his face. "I shouldn't have said anything... sorry. All those things were ancient history. I don't even know why I brought it up."

"What about you?" Y/N breathed, "Is there anyone else in your life?"

Luke pressed his lips into a thin line. "No... To be honest, I still haven't moved on from you." He turned his head to face Y/N, taken aback when she pressed her lips against his.

"I didn't find anyone else, Luke. I wanted to come back from university and run into your arms again, like old times." Y/N uttered as she pulled away. Luke cracked an ecstatic grin, pulling her back.

"Are you guys seriously making out in front of my house?"

Y/N and Luke jumped apart at the sound of Percy's voice. The younger boy was staring at them through the tinted window, face wrinkled up in disgust.

"I'll, um, get in the backseat." Y/N said, smiling before she switched seats, allowing Luke to sit beside Percy. The brunette gave the boy a subtle glare.

"Can I turn on some music?" Percy asked as he drove down an empty road. Luke had switched off the radio to allow the blond to concentrate.

"Only for a little while. Keep your eyes on the road so you don't almost kill anybody else." Luke snapped. From the backseat, Y/N lightly laughed.

Percy pushed a button and with a quiet click, Olivia Rodrigo started playing. "Really, Luke? Your sad playlist?"

"It's the only other tape in my car."

"I got my driver's license last week"- Percy sang along but he was cut off by Luke's stern tone.

"Percy, you won't be getting your license for ages if you don't focus on the road." The brunette warned. Percy frowned, going silent for a few moments before he parted his lips again.

"He used to listen to this playlist in his car while it rained. He was probably thinking about you." Percy said to Y/N, looking at her through the mirror, "I think he even cried at some point. Annabeth and I saw him one night, just sitting in the car and banging his head against the wheel."

"Percy!" Luke hissed, trying to shush the boy. But the damage was already done as Y/N diverted her eyes to look at Luke.

"Really?" There was an amused edge to her voice.

"Stop the car." Luke demanded, glowering at Percy. The young blond nonchalantly pulled over and stopped the engine. "You're dead, Percy. I'm going to tell Annabeth how you still drool in your sleep." Luke pulled out his phone, causing Percy to panic.

"I told her I stopped!" Percy reached for Luke's device but the brunette quickly stepped out of the car. He held the phone up high, away from Percy's grasp. Y/N watched as Percy chased after Luke, desperate to hide his drooling problem from Annabeth.

Luke turned his head to scowl at Percy. "It's your payback for telling Y/N that!"

idea from @emiliehornby !!

PJO TAG LIST : @lostinhisworld @julielightwood @outerbanks-stuff @jennapancake @csifandom @evrybodydies1 @kkrenae @s0ulsniper @annispamz @justanotherkpopstanlol @soraya-09 @simpforeveyone @papichulo120627 @corpsebridenightamare @lilacspider @prettylilsimp @urmomsbananabread @ur-lacol-dsylexic @hottiewifeyyyy @kamiliora @be-bap @finnickodaddy @th0tblckgrl @shoyofroyoyoyo @uniquely-her @imafrkinsimp @syraxesrevenge @ahh-chickens @dracoslovergirl @midnightstar-90 @8812-342 @liv1104 @krkiiz @arialikestea @ch16rles @lizziesliz @maryclx01 @lukecastellandefender @yuminako @coryoskywalker @julielightwood @crybabysbakery @jsbabyyy @liviessun @p3pperm1nttea @angie-esc @purplerose291 @prettylilsimp @10ava01 @froggiesstalks @happy-jj @czennieszn @gisellesprettylies @loveyava @csifandom @luvvfromme @mashiromochi @kamiliora @yorksyree @mqg125 @jamesmackreideswife @niktwazny303 @2hiigh2cry @user021099 @living-in-my-imagination88 @xx-all-purpose-nerd-xx @randomgurl2326 @niktwazny303

[male-body-swap-lover]

That Suburban Dad Life

Nicholas Fletcher was young, but he was well on his way. A young ad exeuctive who lived in downtown Chicago. A stunning new condo at Wolf Point that looked directly down the south branch of the Chicago river. Not everyone was so lucky. And did he care? Not at all. Selfish. Unlikeable. Cutthroat. Just some words that described Nicholas Fletcher. At least he had the heart of Ms. Annabelle Davis. She came from a wealthy family and Nicholas saw it as a way to get ahead in his career. Today was the day he was going to propose to the “love” of his life. Unfortunately he was running late.

“God dammit. Stupid traffic. Why won’t these pedestrians move out of the way”, he said.

In his impatience, he accidentally hit the accelerator instead of the brake and hit an old woman walking in front of his car.

“Oh fuck” he said.

He got out of the car and walked to the old lady who had fallen. He tried to help her up but she swatted his hand away.

“I don’t need help. Could you not see I was walking” she screamed at him.

“Look lady, I am on my way to propose to my girlfriend. I don’t have time to wait for some old lady from the suburbs to cross the road. I’m sorry.

“Young man, you are impatient and unkind.”

“And you are kind of a dramatic bitch. Get up off the street so I can go.”

“All you young men are so rude. You call me suburban. I bet if you were suburban, you’d have some patience and manners.”

As she stood up, she whispered in his ear “I curse you. The next time you meet a woman from the suburbs, you are slowly going to turn into her ideal companion. It’ll teach you some manners and respect.”

Nicholas laughed as she slowly walked away. He got back into his car and sped away to Alinea.

He parked his car and was walking inside just as a young woman was walking out, crying. He tried to avoid her, but they accidentally bumped into each other.

“Oh I am so sorry. My boyfriend just dumped me. I came in all the way from Elgin and I thought he was going to propose, but he dumped me!” She started cring again.

Nicholas didn’t know how to respond, so he just muttered sorry and kept walking into the restaurant.

He greeted Annabelle and sat down. He had arranged to have the ring be presented as part of dessert. As they talked all through dinner, Nicholas felt off. He couldn’t get comfortable. Everything Annabelle kept talking about bored him. He just couldn’t figure out what was wrong with him and decided he wasn’t going to propose. He called the waiter over while she was in the bathroom and got him the stop the proposal. After finishing dinner, he parted ways with her and went home.

As he sat in his living room, he felt this weird urge to drive out to Elgin. He couldn’t shake the feeling so he decided to do it, and went into his room to change. He grabbed his cubs jersey and jeans, but for some reason he tucked his jersey into his jeans. He had to admit it looked dorky, but didn’t untuck it.

He got into his car and drove out to the Elgin. He didn’t know where he was going so after driving around passing house after house, he went downtown and ended up at a bar. He sat down at the bar and ordered a beer, even though he normally got a martini. The game was on and he was enjoying it even though he rarely watched sports because he was always working.

After a while a young woman sat down next to him. They started talking and they had a really good time. He knew he should go home and call Annabelle, but he was having a good time. Hours passed and suddenly it was time for the bar to close. He paid for her drinks and they walked out. They ended up kissing goodnight and he got back into his car. Only when he got in, did he realize the woman was the woman he had run into hours earlier in the city. He couldn’t believe it. He drove back into the city and went to bed.

Weeks passed and Nicholas changed. Annabelle kept calling him but he dodged all of her calls. His performance at work went downhill. For some reasons, nothing was making sense. He stopped going to the gym and he started gaining weight. He even let his facial hair grow in more. Every time he looked in the mirror, he thought he was starting to look more like his father. Finally his boss came into his office and told Nicholas he had to take some time off of work. He needed rest. Nicholas realized he was right and went home.

A week passed and Nicholas didn’t leave his apartment at all. Finally he felt the urge to go out and went to put on some suitable clothes. However nothing fit. He had gained so much weight that he was no longer a 32 waist. He found some sweatpants and decided to go shopping to get some clothes that would fit. On instinct, he drove out to the suburbs and went shopping at Kohls. It seemed to go by in a whirlwind and he found himself back home with bags and bags of clothes. As he looked through the bags, he realized everything he bought was not fashionable. It was all dad attire. He pulled out a a polo shirt and some cargo shorts. He laid them on the bed and started laughing. This was not him at all. It was something he thought some dad out in the suburbs would wear.

Then something came over him. Some insane urge to put on the clothes. So he stipped down. First he put on a white undershirt. Then he slipped on the polo shirt and buttonened one button. Then he put on the cargo shirts and tucked in his polo shirt. He grabbed a brown belt and cinched it around his waist. Then he grabbed a pair of white socks that he bought and put them on and pulled them all the way up. Then he slipped on a pair of sneakers and grabbed a baseball hat. He stood in front of the mirror and laughed. With his weight gain, and with his beard grown out, and with these clothes on, he could have passed for some suburban dad. He started laughing and then his body seized up.

Suddenly, Nicholas felt everything in his brain shifting. Thoughts of ads and revenue were replaced with electrical knowledge and wiring. Late nights at the office were replaced with thoughts of relaxing in a recliner with a beer watching sports. Weekends spent at the club were replaced with thoughts of grilling for the neighbors and mowing his lawn. Finally thoughts of Annabelle were replaced with thoughts of the woman he met at the bar, Natalie Richards. Nicholas suddenly snapped out of it. He looked around his trendy highrise apartment and knew that it was all wrong. He didn’t belong here. He belonged in the suburbs. He grabbed his keys, got in his car, and drove back to Elgin. For some reason he knew exactly where Natalie Richards lived. He got out the car, took a deep breath, and rang the doorbell. She answered the door.

“Hi Natalie, it’s Nick Fletcher. You may remember we met at the bar a few weeks ago. While I haven’t been able to stop thinking about you, and was just wondering if you would like to go on a date?”

“Oh Nick, that’s so unexpected. Yes, I would love to. Just give me a few minutes to get ready! And don’t you look cute!”

Nick stood outside and waited for Natalie. He struck up a conversation with some neighbors about the cubs performance. Time flew by and Nick and Natalie went on there date. Everything was perfect.

15 Years Later

Nick couldn’t believe how the years had flown by! The very next day after his first date with Natalie, he put his condo on the market and quit his ad job. He broke up with Annabelle and found a place out in Elgin. He also started his own electrician business with all the knowledge he had somehow gained out of nowhere. After six months of dating, Natalie and Nick got engaged, and six months later, they got married. Every part of Nick’s old life was gone. He no longer dressed in trendy clothes. He didn’t keep up with everything going on in the world. He wasn’t concerned about being at the top of his game. He just wanted a good stable homelife for himself, his wife, and his future family.

Nick and Natalie quickly got to business and had four wonderful kids, Michael, Jacob, Elizabeth, and little Nick Jr. They had to buy a bigger house in the suburbs and that was okay by them. There was now room for a pool out back and a ping pong table in the basement. Sure it was more expensive, but the business was doing well, and he could always save money other places. Anything to make his family happy was worth it. Yes he had gained more weight, and yes his hairline was receding, but he was happy. He had a good, steady middle class job, a good house in the suburbs, and a family who loved him. What could be better?!

[nolsaesthetic]

A one shot I wrote about Nina helping Crowley after season 2. The agnst isn't too bad, but it's definitely there. Hope you enjoy it!

More Expresso, Less Depresso

It wasn't such a nice day. Then again, everyday had been a bad for Crowley since Aziraphale had left. At first, the demon decided he would sleep for the rest of eternity. Maybe at least in his dreams Aziraphale would be there. Yet even rest refused him solace. 

It had been two weeks since the fight. Two weeks, and Crowley hadn't slept a wink.  He tried to, he really did, but every time he shut his eyes, the scene would play in his mind. 

The image of an angel, his angel, looking at him with a look of shock, pity, guilt, and sadness. His posture straight and collar still ajar from when Crowley grabbed him.  Hands fidgeting together until they stilled, and Aziraphale had looked at him. And those eyes, the blue tantalizing eyes that gave him comfort. The eyes that had once gazed at him with such kindness and companionship, now wide with longing and agony. I forgive you.

Don't bother.

It drove him mad. He wanted to forget. He wanted to go back and change what he said, change what he did. Maybe then Aziraphale wouldn't have left. Maybe then they could have had their breakfast at the Ritz, fed the ducks at the St.James park, bicker over miniscule things, yet always seem to forgive one another in the end. 

Forgiveness

 Crowley hated forgiveness. He never wanted to be forgiven. He never thought he did anything wrong. He's a demon, the pure definition of unforgivable. Though it seemed he was always being forgiven.

Did his angel really think that little of him? That he was some evil creature who needed to be forgiven all the time? 

No, Crowley knew that's not how Aziraphale thinks. No matter what he said or did, Aziraphale would have gone to heaven. He had his own reasons, he had to. 

-------

Crowley slammed his hands down on the steering wheel of the Bentley, and the car rumbled to life. His plants in the backseat slid around as he turned quickly into traffic. They were well on their way to dying, leaves wilting and color fading. Crowley hasn't watered them since the day Aziraphale left. Typically, the plants would be too scared to let themselves die. Though Crowley barely even looked at them anymore, let alone yell at them. 

After a 15-minute drive of shouting at other drivers and stop lights, as well as almost hitting a few pedestrians, the car stopped. Crowley didn't really know where he was going, just trying to blow off steam. Yet the Bentley seemed to run off instinct. 

He found himself parked on the street next to a coffee shop and an all too familiar bookshop.

His eyes widened as he realized where he was. Grip tightening around the wheel, Crowley grimaced and glanced across the street. Through a window in the shop, he could see Muriel, pleasently working in their new human clothes while tidying up the shop. It had changed a lot in the two weeks since he had been there. There were no more piles of books and trinkets everywhere. It was neat and organized, almost like a proper library. The lights were brighter than he had ever seen Aziraphale turn them up, and quite a few people occupied the shop. They seemed rather happy, chatting away or flipping through pages of the books.

Wait... People? Customers? Shit. 

Crowley almost flew out of the car. Slamming the door shut as the Bentley miraculously turned itself off, a car almost hit him as he ran across the street. The doors to the bookshop burst open as Crowley looks at everyone, a sense of manic in his eyes. 

Everyone in the shop either gasped or jerked their heads towards him at the noise of it all. All except for Muriel, who happily waved at him before returning to work. Smiling almost maliciously, Crowley addressed them.

"Change of plan people! No books are for sale! Get out."

The would-be customers quickly gathered their things and filed out of the shop. Not wanting to upset the obviously crazy person who had just appeared, they mostly remained quiet as they left. 

Once all humans had evaded the premisis, Crowley marched his way over to Muriel who was standing with a confused expression. 

"What the Heaven do you think you're doing?!" He shouted

Holding up the feather duster in their left hand Muriel replied. "I'm dusting!" 

"No, not that! The books! Why were you selling the books!" 

"I'm running the shop like the Metatron told me!" 

"The Metatron" Crowley spat out his name like it was a curse. Sighing, he continued, "Aziraphale's going to be so upset when he comes back I-"

"But Mr.Aziraphale.. the Supreme Archangel..isn't coming back Mr.Crowley."

Oh...

He had forgotten. In all of his panic to protect his angel's precious books, Crowley had forgotten that Aziraphale wasn't there anymore. He was gone. He had left him.

Suddenly the shop didnt just look different, it felt different. The warm, homey feeling it once had was gone. Replaced by the stale and depressing silence of dread. 

He was silent for a long time, all he could hear was a ringing in his ears and muffled sounds of Muriel trying to get his attention as he stared off into nothingness.

"Mr. Crowley!" He had finally snapped out of it as Muriel grabbed his arm. "What's the matter?" 

He didn't respond, just blankly looked at her as he pulled him arm away. Stepping back, he grumbled out, "Just- don't sell the books. Tell anyone that comes in to piss off." 

Before Muriel could get another word out he was long gone. Leaving poor Muriel to stand alone in her confusion. 

Crowley was back inside the Bentley, looking up at the top of the car. He wanted to cry, to scream, to shout, to do something, but he just couldn't. Something inside him felt broken, missing, and he didn't know what. He didn't want to think about it, just wanted the feeling to go away, wanted to kill that part of him, wanted to kill-

A few taps came from his window, and he sighed and reached to roll it down. He expected Muriel, coming to find him after his outburst. He was shocked to look outside and see Nina holding a coffee cup and looking back at him with a pitiful smirk.

Once the window was fully down, the cup was quickly shoved towards him. 

"Hey expresso, you don't look so good."

Crowley just rolled his eyes and took the cup, drinking half of it - it was his usual six shots of expresso - before looking back up. 

"You don't say"

Nina returned the attitude right back, "Yeah, you look like shit."

It was true, his hair was grown down to his shoulders and it was a wreck, you could see the bags under his eyes from beneath the sunglasses, and there was five empty wine bottles in his passenger seat alone.

When all the response she got from Crowley was a dead stare, Nina decided to continue talking. 

"Look, I just closed up shop. Why don't you come in and we can get you a proper drink?"

Crowley mulled over the option in his head. He could just drive off and continue mopping on his own, but it that did nothing to stop the emptiness he felt. Hoping that it might distract him even a little bit, Crowley chugged the rest of the expresso and made a grumbling noise in the affirmative. 

Stepping out of the car he nodded towards the coffee shop and the two started on their way inside.

-----

Apparently, it is very difficult to explain a 6000-year relationship to a human. Nina kept questioning when and why certain things happened, why they didn't communicate clearer, why why why. And it didn't help when Crowley kept beating around the bush as to what happened right before Aziraphale left. Usually, this would irritate Crowley, but he was currently on the verge of tipsy as he lay spread out on Nina's leather couch she kept in the back. 

"Wonder what..what Warlock's doing these days.." he mumbled out, taking another sip of his wine glass that Nina gave him. 

Nina sighed as yet another one of her questions went unanswered. She was sitting at a table not too far from the couch, with the bottle of wine and her own wine glass close to her. 

"You still haven't told me what happened, Crowley." She spoke firmly, getting up and taking his wine glass from him. It was no use though, the demon just miracled himself another one. Still, Nina took that from him too. 

Groaning, he swung himself back to an upright position before looking up at Nina and replying. 

"What's there to say? I followed your idiotic advice, and now I'm alone!" 

"You know that's not what I meant. You've spent six millenia pinning after this guy, and it seems to me that it was mutual. Nothing that runs that deep just ends." 

It was silent in the room for a while, Crowley looked to be staring past her as she turned to put the glasses away. But as she was almost out of the room, Crowley responded. 

"..he wanted me to be an angel again."

Nina blinked a few times before turning back around. Setting the glasses on the table she spoke slowly, "and you didnt want to?"

Crowley took off his sunglasses, still staring out in front of him as he spoke. His posture was lowered as he leaned his elbows on his knees, holding his glasses in between them.

"Its one of the only things I wouldn't do for him

I've always followed him, protected him.. he's gone now, and it's like.. I'm not even me anymore." 

Nina took a deep breath, exhaling as she lsat down on the couch next to Crowley and leaned back into the cushion. 

"To me, it sounds like you need to figure yourself out.

Take a break, take care of yourself...

Also, stop living in your car. I have space at my flat if you need a place to stay." 

Crowley didn't know how he felt about that offer, but talking to Nina was making him feel better, and he was willing to give anything a shot at this point. 

Pausing for just a moment, he sobered himself up and finally turned to look at Nina.

"Can I bring my plants?"

[ceilidhtransing]

It's astonishing the number of conversations about urbanism that get derailed by one person going “but what about my very specific situation!”

Look. No one is talking about forcing you specifically to never ever use a car if the life you lead needs one. There will always be edge cases like someone who lives on the very outer limits of a city but has to commute every day to their job thirty miles away in Middle Of Nowhere Village Farm (Population Two Hundred) which is too far to cycle and it's unlikely that there will ever be fast frequent public transport on that particular route so of course it makes sense for that person to drive. Even in well planned places there are still some situations that warrant a car. And, of course (though this is not really the group this post is about), there will be a very small population of disabled people - smaller than a lot of people probably imagine, but it definitely exists - for whom, no matter how accessible a mixed-use walkable neighbourhood you build, with tactile paving and level boarding and free seating everywhere and continuous pavements and safe segregated pedestrian paths and all that fantastic stuff, it will still be necessary to use a car a lot of the time.

But the existence of edge cases does not invalidate the project as a whole, and in fact it's a pretty conservative instinct to respond to an attempt to massively improve the general conditions of society with “but what about the way it will affect me?!”

I am very sympathetic to a lot of these people's fears and apprehensions, particularly those of disabled people who are all too used to urban planning projects completely forgetting they exist and severely limiting their ability to get around the world. I really do understand the feeling of “I can only barely get around as it is and I'm afraid that all this urbanism stuff will only make it yet more impossible for me to live my life”. But I suspect that a lot of this feeling comes from a fear of extremely poorly implemented “urbanism”, where things are - especially in North America - basically the exact same as there are now except you're forced to walk or cycle everywhere so you have an 80-minute round-trip cycle just to get groceries and the Urbanism Cops will hunt you down if you so much as think about driving. And while there's always some risk that good ideas will be absolutely butchered in execution by incompetent, careless and/or malicious officials, I do want to emphasise that no one is actually advocating for that kind of situation. An “urbanism” that leaves everything basically as-is except now cars are banned or something is no urbanism at all. And an urbanism that makes it infinitely harder for people to get around, rather than easier, is also no urbanism at all. Whatever your nightmare vision is of “everyone being forced to cycle everywhere” or “my commute now being 4 hours long because I'm not allowed to drive” or “now I'm trapped inside my house because I can't walk very far and my neighbourhood isn't accessible to me” is not actually being advocated by anyone.

Urbanism is about greatly improving the quality of life for society as a whole (as well as, you know, staving off the climate catastrophe), and within that framework there will be space for all the edge cases. Because that's what they are: edge cases. Even if 15% of people will need to drive to work no matter what, that's still 85% of people who won't. Even if 10% of people will need a car to go shopping, that's still 90% of people who won't. And the expectation - especially from people whose opposition is rooted not in genuine concern for accessibility but rather in pure myopic selfishness, like the business owners who go apeshit every time a bike lane is proposed on their street - that we should hold off on massive improvements for the vast bulk of society because “what about their specific edge case situation” is how nothing ever gets improved at all. “My personal need to drive means that everything should remain car-dependent forever.” “I can't ride a bike therefore we shouldn't invest in cycle infrastructure.” “My nearest transit stop is a half-hour walk away so instead of advocating for better public transit that works for my neighbourhood I'm going to insist that everything stays the way it is now.” Prioritising edge cases - often those of loud and wealthy conservative minorities - at the direct expense of the broad solutions that will result in massive quality-of-life improvements for almost everyone is deeply unfair, and doesn't result in anything ever getting better, but rather is a big contributing factor to everything staying shit forever.

[anipgarden]

Tips on talking to HOAs about installing gardens in the shared spaces? I live in a condo, but the parking lot is /barren/

I'm sorry for how late this is! (This was sent in November for everyone's context), I simply had no idea how to answer it!

Though I live in an HOA neighborhood, I've never really been in a position where I had to talk to them about anything. However, a book I checked out from the library awhile back (Hellstrip Gardening by Evelyn J. Hadden, which I really need to take back soon) mentions a couple of tip in regards to talking to HOAs about gardening in the front yard. Hopefully it helps!

Come with an idea in mind! Being able to present a drawing or a description of what you'd like to do in the area will be a lot more helpful than 'I want to do A Thing', and may be enough to get permission! In other cases, you may need a formal presentation, but even then having an idea of what you'd like to plant and why and the benefits to the community will be helpful for building said presentation!

HOA's suck, I'll be the first to agree. But if you wanna get permission for a cool parking lot garden, you've gotta go over there ready and willing to compromise and talk nice. Maybe come up with a few alternative options--for example, if you want to dig in the ground but they don't want a permanent fixture, be open to raised beds instead. But that doesn't mean let them walk all over you! Be confident, and bring facts to back you up. And know what rights the HOA does or doesn't have in your city or state.

Try presenting the idea to some neighbors and get them to back you! The more people you can get behind the idea, the less likely a 'oh but what if the neighbors don't like the aesthetic what if they complain' concern will actually stick.

Focus moreso on practical benefits than emotional arguments when it comes to the HOA. Bring up things like reducing runoff, erosion control, less water usage, little to no mowing or blowing--anything that can add a dollar figure to how beneficial it is will likely tilt people towards your side if you're convincing enough, especially if you can show that the cost of planting and maintaining your parking lot garden idea long term will be negligible to or even cheaper than maintaining whatever's going on there now--if they're constantly planting sod there only for it to wither away, that could be a good starting point.

Visuals!! Again!! This comes from the book, but also from me convincing my mom to let me plant by the front yard mailbox--me rattling off names of plants and all is way less effective than me texting her pictures and descriptions of how tall they get. If you can get a general idea of what you'd like to plant and where, gather up a bunch of pictures of your ideal plants and maybe draw a quick mock-up of your design. If there's other places in your town that have similar gardens--someone's front yard, or a park, or anything of the sort--provide addresses so the HOA board members can drop by and see what it looks like in action, and further cement the idea that it has been done before and done well. Consider the aesthetic appeal of it all!

Get ahead of any questions or concerns that you think the board may have. This idea you have is for a parking lot garden--they might have concerns about cars and pedestrians existing around the space. Is there risk of plants damaging the cars? Being a trip hazard for people getting in and out of their cars, or existing around the space? Are the plants you have in mind known to cause allergies, are they toxic to kids and pets that may be around the area at times?

Maybe include like a stone bench or something, depending on how big the spot is. If the HOA can make the presence of the garden a fixture, make it look like a plus to moving into the condos, they'll love it all the more! 'Look at this lovely garden break spot you can chill in oooo!'

Do you have a plan in mind if the garden gets damaged--whether its a car driving over the curb, or someone intentionally messing with the plants? What is it? What do you think the potential cost of it would be? This may be something they'd ask.

That's everything I've got, between the book and my personal thoughts. If any of my followers have dealt with an HOA and have feedback or other comments to provide, by all means chime in!

[residentshitcunt]

Ahh this fucking post crossed my dash again, I really had better do a thing about it.

Unless you are living in an area with a very large bat colony nearby, this is a fucking terrible idea, and fails to take into account the very negative effects to human safety that widespread adoption is likely to have. So, let's go over some whys of it all.

First off, sodium vs. cool white LEDs. Basically, the reason that high pressure sodium lamps have been the standard for so long is because once they're burning they're really fucking bright, and really fucking efficient. The big problem with them is human vision. We physically don't see the same in daytime as we do at night. In the day, under photopic (well lit) lighting, our vision is very sensitive to the light spectrum that HPS lighting outputs, but at night under scotopic lighting conditions, our vision is much less sensitive to those kinds of red/orange wavelengths and is much more sensitive to blue wavelengths, which makes sense when you remember that moonlight is significantly cooler than sunlight. So, to achieve the same equivalent illumination, you have to use much brighter HPS lighting than is actually required, to account for the reduced sensitivity of our eyes during the night. Blue-white LEDs can thus be much less bright, but achieve the same equivalent illumination, all while increasing actual visibility and lowering maintainence and replacement costs.

Secondly, DID YOU HEAR WHAT I SAID ABOUT LOW SENSITIVITY TO RED LIGHT AT NIGHT?? Public lighting is a public safety concern. There's no point in having it if you can't use it to fucking see. Like I know enough people that don't feel comfortable walking at night at the best of times, but turning everything into a low contrast blurr is beyond a joke. Also, people still drive, and while that is still the case, you have to think about the safety of human-car interactions. Car headlights are bad at side illumination, street lighting helps with this massively. This is very important in urban settings, reducing the visibility of pedestrians is dangerous. People will most likely be killed because they could not be seen.

Also, LEDs like those are near monochromatic. God forbid someone wears anything other than maximum red clothing and they just vanish into low res background movement, not materially distinguishable from the leaves in the trees.

These red lights do have real uses, but it's much more limited. Generally, they're installed where a bat flightpath crosses a bit of human infrastructure like a highway, and they're only used for stretches in the tens of metres, where it's not going to materially impact safety. Widespread adoption, however, would be a massive swing in the wrong direction.

Overlighting and light pollution are massive issues with cities and towns generally. One of the easiest ways to reduce it (while maintaining safer streets and helping bats too) is super simple: constrain light sources. You know those lights which are just like a big white ball on the end of a pole? Yeah, don't do that. Bats fly, so you make the lights not directly visible from the sky, I.e. with a light cone of less than 180° (ideally around 100°-120°), you'll massively reduce the amount of light spill, while still adequately lighting roadways and footpaths.

Overlighting is a big issue, which essentially just boils down to "we put lights in too many places where we really don't need them to be". Those illuminated signs for businesses that aren't open at night? Get rid of them. Does your local castle/old library/government building/palace really need to be lit up at night? Are you sure?

And here's an idea: if your park/side street/ alleyway isn't heavily trafficked, you don't need to have the lights on all the time (they also don't need to shine into everybody's front windows). It wouldn't be that difficult to install motion or vehicle magnetic sensors into roadways to trigger light usage. You could even put like, a button? So that when you press it, a block of lights goes on for a while, and then just turns off.

All of these are good for wildlife, all of these are food for liveability, and all have their own issues with cost, maintainence, public opposition, cranky business owners etc, but they're also not making it materially more dangerous to go outside at night. Like you notice that both of those photos of the red lighting were taken while there was still vestiges of daylight around because taking them when it's actually dark shows that they're not kind on your eyes. Harsh blue-white lighting also helps keep drivers more alert, increasing road safety. It's about balancing factors, not making sweeping changes based on one fairly small one.

perhaps some will disagree, but i think the world got worse when we changed the colour of the night

[emcroissant]

Let me just see something real quick...

Charleston, SC, technically has a bus system. It's CARTA, and it's free, but it's not really a bus. It's more of a shuttle that travels around the peninsula in a circle route, mostly catered to tourists.

But it's a million degrees in Downtown Charleston today, and the path I needed to take does not have much shade.

So I decided to take the bus.

Bad idea. Very bad idea.

It started off fine. I got on, along with a bunch of cruise ship tourists who have no idea how to get around this city that's 2 sq. miles at the most. Whatever. Since the bus only goes in a loop, I know I'm gonna be on there for a while.

Flash forward to my stop. In London, I knew that I had to press the red button to let the driver know I needed to get off. I press that. I see that a "Stop Requested" sign has lit up. I think I have been successful.

WRONG.

I stand up and step toward the bux exit, only to watch as we drive idly by my stop. Then the next. I started to panic, so I pulled the yellow wire that I didn't even know worked anymore. It doesn't. The driver then tells us we have to YELL that we want to get off and that she's not going to stop at every stop (despite there being people waiting for the bus as well).

Finally, I got off the bus and had to walk 3 blocks to my destination instead of the 30 seconds it would have taken me if I had been allowed off at my stop like I wanted.

Charleston has NO efficient public transport. The bus is too unreliable, and it's not an actual transportation system that I can take to any desired destination.

Charleston streets were never designed for cars, yet we squeeze them in there.

The horses who pull the carriages are abused and forced to work in the sweltering heat, but they're not used for transport either.

The bike taxis up-charge people, especially if you're "bigger" or not as pretty. I've watched and witnessed it firsthand.

Biclysists run off the road and are not given safe buffers to ride on the road. If you want to be able to ride your bike Downtown, you have to basically be a speed-racer and super skinny so that you can squeeze between moving and parked cards.

Pedestrians and joggers are not safe either. They're hit if they go into the streets, which is sometimes necessary due to the narrow and uneven sidewalks. They're hit when they're on the sidewalk, too. Nobody is safe.

Charleston has the tracks for a trolley system, but they have been buried beneath pothole-filled asphalt.

And what was once a bustling railroad depot is now long gone. To get to the suburbs around Charleston, you have to have a car. They were supposed to start building a train from Downtown to the town where my parents live, which would have been great! But no. They've shortened the proposed route, but I have a feeling I'll never see it in my lifetime anyway.

[kareofbears]

so many hours in a day

It's drizzling in Tokyo when Nanami sees him, or rather runs into him, in a way that only Yuji can pull off.

read on ao3 or below the tag :)

Nanami Kento is a busy man.

He would prefer if he wasn't. He would like to be the type of person who wakes up naturally, instead of a shrill alarm. He would like to have slow breakfasts with coffee that he makes himself, instead of rushing to the convenience store around the corner for a pre-made egg salad sandwich and instant coffee from the fridge. He'd love to take a few weeks off in a year and travel for a bit, to enjoy the sights with his own eyes, instead of an advertisement that he'd see plastered on the subway walls.

Nevertheless, preference doesn't dictate reality. It doesn't matter what he'd like. A leisurely life wasn't designated to him in the lottery of birth, and it was something he resented for a long time. Accepting the cards that he's been dealt with, however, is indeed something he can control.

What he had yet to accept, on the other hand, was the consistent presence of Itadori Yuji.

--

It's drizzling in Tokyo when he sees him, or rather runs into him, in a way that only Yuji can pull off.

Nanami pulls into the curb gently, mindful of the rain and wary of pedestrians. It isn't often he drives around the city, with public transit being fairly reliable if not cramped. Parking is a gamble that Nanami doesn't appreciate, but rain can be difficult to traverse when he's in need of a grocery run.

Pulling on the handbrake, he opens his umbrella as he steps out of the car, and feels something roll onto his foot.

Looking down, he stares as a can of beans slowly gets wet with rain. He stoops down to pick it up, readjusting the umbrella on his shoulder.

A familiar voice sighs, loud and frustrated. "Sorry to bother you, it just got away from me. Again, if you can believe it. Oh, hey!"

"Hello, Itadori-kun," Nanami straightens up and takes in the boy in front of him.

Yuji, arms full of groceries, from vegetables to eggs to a carton of milk, stands in front of him, grin wide, hair flat and wet. "I didn't think I'd see you today, Nanamin. It's really great to see you," he says, open and earnest.

"I'm grocery shopping." For once, Yuji's out of his jujutsu uniform and is sporting a hoodie and pale jeans, neither of which are helping with the current weather. Nanami raises his umbrella to prop it above Yuji. "I assume you are, too."

"Bingo!" Yuji laughs, wordlessly getting closer to Nanami so they can share the umbrella as the rain picks up a bit more. "What gave it away? Haha, just kidding, don't answer that."

That's good because he wasn't going to. "Are you on your way home now?" he asks. "You didn't bring a bag with you?"

"Ah," Yuji shifts from foot to foot, and Nanami eyes the carrot that's threatening to topple over. "I ran out of money for a bag. At least I have my arms, which is kind of like nature's bag."

"It's three yen for a bag," he says, but he digs through his pockets, pulling out his car keys and unlocking the trunk. "Here, put it down. There should be a few reusable bags in there as well, so make sure to separate your groceries into three different sections: produce, refrigerated, and non-perishables."

"Thanks!"

Yuji hums as he works, Nanami opening the bags for him as Yuji drops the groceries in. "What are you making for dinner tonight, Nanamin?"

"Curry omurice." He expected the oohs and ahhs that follow. "It isn't difficult. If you're attentive in the timing of it, anyone can do it."

"You must be a good cook," Yuji remarks, shuffling the eggs around so they don't break under the oranges. "I want to be like that, too."

Nanami considers this, vaguely remembering how Gojo boasted about how his student made meatballs for him. "I recall you being able to cook."

"I can make about five things super well," he says. "Like, really well! Simple dishes are doable. But anything past that--" Yuji makes a so-so gesture. "Hit or miss, so I stick with what I know."

Once everything is packed up, Yuji hauls everything from the trunk with ease. "Thanks for the bags. I'll make sure to wash them before I give them back to you. Geh, imagine if the milk spills and I give it back to you like that." He shudders at the image he conjured himself. "Anyway, next time you stop by school, I can pass these back to you."

Nanami peers above the trunk, displeased. "Where are you going?"

That makes Yuji pause. With his confused eyes and dripping hair, the rain only emphasizes how young he looks. "The train?"

"But that only takes you so far," he says, reaching over to pull Yuji's hood up. "It's another thirty walk after."

It's Yuji's turn to frown. "Yes?"

Repressing a sigh, Nanami glances at his watch. "There's still another 20 minutes before rush hour hits. I suggest we get going now, and we can get to the school in 30 minutes." Opening the driver's side, he gets in and closes the door, cutting off any protest that Yuji has.

Nanami stares into the rearview mirror, seeing Yuji smile as he gently puts the groceries into the back before moving to the passenger side. Turning the ignition, he cranks the heat so it'll be warm by the time the door opens.

He wonders if the store will still be open once he helps Yuji put his groceries away. Not a big deal, Nanami can get takeaway if it comes to it. He also wonders when was the last time that someone offered him a ride that wasn't for a mission. He also wonders how many cans had slipped out of his hand before someone finally offered to pick them up for him.

What Yuji has not accepted, it may seem, was the consistent presence of Nanami Kento.

[fx1600]

Putting this here instead of tags to really drive home that last point. Because believe me I know fully well how anxiety and panic inducing it can be to think someone's waiting on you. To think that the people behind you are waiting, angry, and losing their patience with you. BUT that doesn't matter because PEOPLE ARE IDIOTS AND DRIVE HORRIBLY NOW N DAYS. Everyone's safety is most important and you've gotta remember that because I've had people try to pressure me to go at horrendous moments. I had someone tailgate me so close they almost hit me for slowing to 20 in an active construction zone. I slowed down even FURTHER because there were construction workers STANDING RIGHT IN FRONT OF MY CAR and all the lanes were condensing down to one concrete lined lane. And the person behind me wanted me to just speed up and plow through everyone. I've had people honk at me for waiting during a right turn while there were PEDESTRIANS IN THE PATH OF MY CAR

I've had people swerve around me because I wasn't going at a speed where I would LITERALLY LOSE CONTROL OF MY CAR I know driving is scary, it's nerve wracking, that's why you need to take a breath and do whatever you can to keep yourself safe. Because genuinely no one else on the road will care about your safety but you. People would rather risk accidents and killing someone than stay on the road 2 minutes longer than they want to. I don't even care if you're running late! Your class is not worth it. Your job is not worth it. That event that starts at a certain time is definitely not worth it. Because no matter what you could possibly lose from showing up late or irritating someone by driving slow is not at all on the same level as risking the health and safety of yourself and those around you.

I am BEGGING younger drivers. drive carefully. give yourself room. for fuck's sake use your turn signals and don't fucking weave thru traffic. this is not a video game, this is real life and if you get into an accident, you could get killed or kill someone else VERY easily

[space-dog-from-space]

4/12

The Doctor, the Hag, and the AU, or, Bones and the Hallmark Christmas Movie Curse

Every year in December, the Enterprise's senior staff gather to watch 21st century Hallmark Christmas movies. Unfortunately for Bones, he hates Hallmark Christmas movies more than he hates the idea of being spaced. And this year, he is grumpier than usual. Luckily, the Christmas Hag appears and sends Bones on an isekai Hallmark adventure (against his will) to discover the true meaning of Christmas: Spirk.

Chapter 4 - Meet Not-Cute

Bones comes up with a plan to have Jim and Spock meet each other.

“Wanna sign my cast?”  Jim asked cheerily as he swung himself into the passenger’s seat of the rental car.  He had been waiting just inside the hospital doors when Bones pulled up to collect him.

Bones let out a breath of a laugh.  “Yeah, sure, kid,” he said.  Alternate Universe or not, broken arm or not, Jim was still Jim.  He checked the console looking for a pen.  Unfortunately, there wasn’t anything there, but he was in luck when he opened the glovebox and found a sharpie.  Jim took his arm out of his sling for access, and Bones signed his name in block capital letters.

Jim looked at it and laughed.  “Did you just label my arm?  I thought a doctor might have been a bit more specific.”

Bones looked at Jim in confusion for a moment before he realized that the name he had written on Jim’s cast was ‘Bones.’  Damn habits, Bones thought, this is all Jim’s fault.  The other one.  What he said was, “It’s what my friends call me.”

Jim grinned.  “Oh, I get it.  Like sawbones,” he said without missing a beat.

Bones blinked at him.  He felt stunned, but he didn’t know why.  After all, it was Jim, or rather a Jim that had come up with the nickname in the first place.  “Yeah,” he said dumbly.

Jim was chatty on the drive back to where his truck was parked, but Bones wasn’t paying much attention to what he was saying.  Jim didn’t seem to take any offense, assuming that Bones was concentrating on driving so he wouldn’t hit another pedestrian.  But really, Bones was busy thinking about his encounter with the Christmas Hag.  Before he drove away from the hospital, he had used the cell phone to check the date.  It was December 20th, and the clock on the dash reported that the time was nearly seven o’clock.  Comparing that with the date and time that the ice sculpture competition would end, he would have almost exactly three days to fulfill his task.  He grimaced inwardly.  Three days wasn’t much time, especially since Jim and Spock hadn’t even met yet.  He knew had a lot of work to do, but he didn’t even know where to start.

“That’s my truck there,” Jim said, pulling Bones back to reality.  He spotted the truck that Jim was pointing at, and parked along the curb behind it.  He got out of the car with Jim, intending to see him off and assure him that if he needed anything over the next few days that he could give him a call.  But Bones got distracted by the logo on the side of Jim’s truck, marking it as a company vehicle.

Bones gestured to it, asking, “work truck?”

Jim shrugged.  “Personal truck turned work truck.”

“What do you do for work?”  Bones asked, curious as to what Starfleet’s youngest captain did for a living in this universe.

“I do deliveries,” Jim said.

“What do you deliver?”

“Whatever people need delivered,” Jim replied.  “Whole company is just me and my truck.  A bunch of businesses around town have me bring their supplies in from the city.”

Bones nodded.  “Keep you busy enough?”  

“Yeah, well enough,” Jim said.  “Actually, tomorrow’s pretty busy.  I gotta run to the city early to pick up a shipment for the coffee shop and have it back here in town by the time they open at seven AM,” he said.  “But I have to leave extra early because I also have to pick something up for the country club that they need delivered that afternoon.  Sorry, I’m rambling.  I’ll let you go, thanks for the ride,” Jim said, seeing how Bones’ eyes glazed over at the details of his job.

But it wasn’t disinterest that sent Bones deep into his own thoughts.  He had an idea.  “Jim, wait,” he said, stopping Jim as he was climbing into his truck.

“Yeah?” He turned back to look at Bones.

“Where do out-of-towners stay around here?”  Bones asked.

“Probably the motel on the east side of town,” Jim said, gesturing in a general easterly direction.  “Not really any other options, I’m afraid.”

“Perfect,” Bones said, mostly to himself.  “Thanks,” he said over his shoulder as he distractedly headed back to his car.

“No problem?”  Jim said back, a little confused.  Bones didn’t hear him.

—

Bones sat in his car in the corner of the Smalltown Motel parking lot.  The motel was small, with only six rooms, and luckily for Bones, all the doors were on the same side of the building.  It made his stakeout much easier than he thought it would have been.  As he waited, the air inside the car grew colder, so he put on his mittens and burrowed deeper into his coat, reluctant to turn the ignition on in case someone noticed him lingering and assumed that he was up to something suspicious, which he was.

He checked the time impatiently every few minutes, using the display on the cellphone.  He had been watching the motel room doors for nearly an hour now, and there was still no sign of his quarry.  Come on, he couldn’t have turned in for the night before I got here, right?  That would have been too early, he thought.  On the other hand, this was Spock that he was talking about.  Spock wasn’t particularly known for participating in the night life.  Though, it was still early for the night life to be getting started.

Bones perked up when someone walked off the street and through the small parking lot towards the motel.  Even though the sun had long gone down and the street lamp in front of the motel wasn’t working, Bones recognized Spock from his posture and his long, even gait.  Perfect.  He watched as Spock headed to the left side of the building and climbed the stairs to the room on the second storey.  Bones waited three minutes before getting out of his car and retreating to the motel room he had booked just over an hour earlier.  It was the middle room on the ground floor.

Once inside, he pulled the mittens off and blew into his hands, trying to warm them.  Once some of the dexterity returned to his hands, he gathered the motel-provided plain notepad and a ballpoint pen and sat down at the small table in the corner, and wrote:

If you’re interested in a story more important than an ice sculpture competition, meet me in front of the print store on Ingal’s street at 0645.  

He folded the paper in half, concealing the text, and wrote Spock’s name on the outside.  Then, he left the room and crept up the stairs to Spock’s door, cursing at every creak in the old wooden stairs and wishing that Spock’s room was on the ground floor.  Each unit had a large window for natural light, but the blinds were drawn to block anyone from seeing in.  Bones taped the note to the window so the part with Spock’s name written on it faced into the room, and then he quietly walked back down to the ground level.  He stepped back from the building so he had a good view of the window, and picked up a handful of the gravel from the parking lot.  He threw one rock at the window, then another, both creating a moderately loud clacking sound.  Then he waited for a moment, holding his breath.

Though the blinds were closed, they were thin enough that Bones could see that the light inside the room was on.  He was about to throw another rock when a tall shadow was cast on the blinds, prompting him to run up to the building, hiding under the stairs out of view of Spock.  He waited, listening closely, and sighed with relief when he heard the sound of a door opening above him, followed by a couple footsteps before the door closed again.  Bones wouldn’t dare check, in case Spock had left the blinds open and was looking out the window, but he knew that Spock had taken the bait.  He went back to his own motel room, making sure he opened and closed the door silently, and set an alarm for 0400 the next morning.

—

Bones yawned from his hiding spot in the alley beside the print store on Ingal’s street.  He knew that if Spock decided to come to the meeting place that he would show up early, so Bones had gotten up especially early to ensure that he beat him to it.  This was no random meeting spot.  Bones had scoped it out after dropping Jim off at his truck the day before, choosing it for its cluttered alleyway and narrow sidewalk on a narrow street.  It was also certainly on Jim’s delivery route to the coffee shop.

Bones checked the time.  He knew that he may not have timed this properly.  Jim could drive through earlier than anticipated.  Spock could have decided not to show up.  But Bones had his fingers crossed that his plan would work.  Spock hadn’t shown up yet, however, Jim’s truck hadn’t gone by yet either, so the plan hadn’t fallen apart quite yet.

At six forty, five minutes before the proposed meeting time, Spock walked past the alleyway, presumably to wait for his mystery informant in front of the print shop.  Bones crept quietly up the alley towards the street, holding his breath in an attempt to not be heard by Spock’s keen ears.  He peered around the corner and saw Spock exactly where he wanted him, standing on the sidewalk close to the mouth of the alley.  

It’s all coming together, Bones thought as he crouched down just inside the alley, staying hidden from Spock but having a good view of the road in the direction that Jim should be coming from.  Bones just hoped that Jim would come by before Spock lost patience and left.

The stars had aligned.  A surge of adrenaline ran through Bones as he recognized Jim’s truck as it rumbled down the narrow street.  He stood up and tip-toed closer to Spock, his heart beating faster with anxiety.  He would only get this one shot.  

Not yet, not yet….  NOW.  As Jim’s truck was just about to pass them by, Bones stepped out of the alley and gave Spock a hard shove, sending him stumbling into the street.  He didn’t stick around to see what happened, if he was caught he would probably be detained, and he didn’t have time for that.  As he dashed through the alley he did hear the sound of tires sliding through the snow as the truck suddenly braked, and he heard the impact.  He flinched, hoping he didn’t get Spock hurt too badly.

Once out the other side of the alley, Bones ran around the block, stopping only when he got back to Ingal Street, where he casually walked around the corner.  The headlights on Jim’s truck shone in his direction from down the block.  The silhouettes of Jim and Spock standing in front of the truck gave Bones a minimal idea of what was going on.  He also couldn’t hear what they were saying from this distance, but they were standing close together, which Bones took as a good sign.  When both Jim and Spock got into the truck, Bones allowed himself a moment of quiet celebration.  The first step to escaping this Hallmark hell was done.

[quantumtraffic1]

What Justifies The Need For Traffic Engineering?

 Traffic engineering is a science focused on the design and implementation of safe, efficient, and cost-effective ways to get people and goods from place to place.

Traffic engineers study traffic flow, devise ways to improve access and egress at intersections, determine the best layout for parking lots or garages, plan road construction projects so as not to disrupt traffic flow unnecessarily—the list goes on! But what really makes traffic engineering Sydney necessary?

It's easy to forget that traffic engineering isn't just about roads and streets.

It's easy to forget that traffic engineering isn't just about roads and streets. Traffic engineers are concerned with safety, mobility, access, capacity and throughput. Traffic engineering deals with people—people who want to get from one place to another safely and in good time.

And this is what makes traffic engineers so different from other types of engineers: they're interested in how people behave on the road; how we interact with each other as drivers; how we use our senses while driving; how we use technology while driving (or not using it).

How we share the road with others; what kinds of things can distract us while driving (like eating or drinking); what kinds of vehicles are on the road at any given time; whether there are enough parking spots near where you live or work so that you'll feel comfortable walking there instead of driving yourself.

Traffic engineering isn't just about things either, it also involves people.

Traffic engineers need to understand the psychology of drivers, pedestrians and cyclists. They also need to understand how people will react when faced with a new traffic system.

For example, when a new signalised pedestrian crossing is introduced it could change where pedestrians wait for their signal to change. It could also cause confusion about whether or not vehicles must give way at this crossing. This confusion may lead to an increase in accidents if people start misinterpreting what's happening on the road and behaving inappropriately.

     On top of this there's also likely to be general anxiety associated with interacting with traffic signals for the first time (after all they are well known hazards).

If we look at another example: suppose an intersection has been upgraded so that right turns on red lights are no longer allowed but instead motorists must wait at least five seconds before proceeding into the next lane?

When implemented correctly this can improve safety by reducing rear end collisions but it might take some time before drivers get used to this new rule and adjust their behaviour accordingly

Traffic engineering is about safety, not just about congestion.

Traffic engineering is about safety, not just about congestion. The first point to make is that traffic engineering Sydney is not just about the roads and how they are used—it also includes people in cars and trucks as well as pedestrians and bicyclists who use our roadways.

Traffic engineers try to keep everyone safe by designing and building roads that are up to code with proper signage, lighting, crosswalks, etc., all of which help us navigate life on the road safely.

For example: If you're driving down a street at night without any streetlights or stop signs posted along it then there's more likelihood that an accident will occur because visibility isn't optimal!

 If there aren't any sidewalks in certain areas around town then pedestrians may have trouble crossing busy streets safely without getting hit by cars or trucks on their way home from work or school.

Conclusion

Traffic engineering is a complex field that requires a lot of know-how and experience. That’s why it’s important to understand its role in ensuring safe and efficient movement of vehicles, pedestrians and cyclists on our roads.

Traffic engineering is not just about things or people; it also involves society as a whole, by providing solutions that are fair and equitable for everyone who uses public roads.

[be-ready-when-i-say-go]

CONGRATULATIONS ON GRADUATING H!! 🥳🥳

May I request a Calum fic where reader is also a singer and after a chill day of running errands and having dinner they go hangout in their home studio. They just fool around making music and maybe they post a clip of what they made to their socials and fans beg them to release a song together. Maybe they do end up doing something low key just for the fans. The whole thing is just super fluffy and they’re the cute musician couple everyone adores 🥰🥰

Thank you!

Also thanks for your patience. I got carried away a bit with this one.

Written for Graduation Blurb Weekend. Going until May 8th. 

Gender Neutral Reader Insert. 

Muses

_________________

You touch your back pockets even before Calum turns to you. The person behind the window seems to be staring blankly after requesting the 58 cents. You find your wallet and some change clinks around. You pray it's enough. Calum’s already pulling his card from one of the slots in his wallet, but he knows. He knows you hate when he uses his card for things so small so he pauses for a moment as he hears you whisper out the command, “Wait.”

“It’s really just a stamp,” Calum counters. 

“No, absolutely not,” you return. Two quarters plop into your hands. Behind it are some dimes, a couple nickels and a handful of pennies. You pick out the correct coinage and hand it over to Calum. Calum passes it over to the attendant. They give it a quick glance over and then tap their keys to get to the register open. 

“Do you need a receipt?” they ask. 

Calum shakes his head no. “Thanks.”

“Of course. Have a great rest of your day.”

The two of you return the sentiment and then move off to the side. The post office seems to be somehow busy even though the morning’s barely broken. Plenty of people are in lines with boxes and slips and it feels silly for Calum not to have stamps to mail off things. But as par for the course, he manages to handle most things electronically. It’s your mail that you needed to send off--a card for a friend who’s a couple states away. You normally do the texts and posts on Instagram. But you still think there’s nothing quite like getting a physical card in the mail. 

“Thanks,” you state to Calum, threading an arm around his. 

“Of course, love,” he returns, smiling at you from behind the sunglasses and trucker cap. “Should we divide and conquer on hair cut and grocery?” His stylist was only a few blocks away from the grocery store. 

You shake your head. “It’s not like your hair takes that long.” 

It was time to clean up the mullet, possibly even say goodbye to it. The thing he didn’t want to happen was that he somehow managed to make some sort of last minute decision about his hair and then delay the rest of the day. “Are you trying to keep me from going green?”

You laugh. “I think you’d look good in a lot of different colors. But I don’t know. I just don’t think green is it for right now.”

“Hmm, just say you don’t love me.” The lights to the SUV blink and Calum opens the door for you. 

Before he can close the door, you lean in closer to him. “I do love you. Just to let all the records show.”

“Yeah, yeah, but you won’t let me dye my hair green and it might as well be the same thing.” He punctuates the jest with a kiss. 

“Lordy,” you mutter and buckle yourself into the truck. The drive is mostly quiet even over the soft voices floating up from the radio. 

“Do you like the mullet?” Calum asks at a stop light. 

“What do you mean?”

Calum gives a shrug, waiting for the light to turn green. A few pedestrian cross in front of the car. “I don’t know. Like, I like it. But you never really said anything about it. I guess I’m just assessing the options.”

You reach out and squeeze his free hand. “I think you should do what makes you happy. The mullet’s been interesting. It’s grown on me. But I’m not with you for your hair, love.”

Calum nods. “I know your favorites though.” The grin on his faces eludes to the nights you two have spent lost in each other. “Blue shave. Short sides, long top. Growing out blonde/a bit of platinum was your peak.”

Your laughter attempts to cover the embarrassment. “Shut up. Also, the blonde was like right at the height of our honeymoon phase. So you can fuck off.”

“Oh I can fuck off, huh? Put that on the to-do list.”

Your giggles escape you in tufts. It’s a ridiculous list. But you lean into the joke and pull out your phone. As you title it, set a date and time, you decide to go as far as inviting Calum to the invite as well. His phone shakes after the event is created. You know he won’t check it for a while, but it’ll be a nice laugh for later. 

The silence after your laughter settles and you turn your attention solely to Calum. The cap creates shadows that caress his full cheeks and though you know it’s just your imagination you imagine the shadows that pass over his face see what you see too. The quiet soul, the boisterous laughter, the animated man when he wants to be that is Calum. You imagine that Calum is also like an electromagnetic field and anyone who settles into his radius is just sucked it. It’s not worth fighting. 

You’d found Calum by what you’d call a fluke. A bar that you frequented hosted open mics and thought you and your songwriting career was already taking off (finally) you still made time to come back, to pay homage and respect to the place that gave you your start. So you waltzed up to the makeshift stage only intending to sing your two latest releases, have maybe one or two drinks and then head back home. 

But after your two songs, while at the bar, Calum approached you. You call it a fluke because after performing you noticed a text from your producer asking if you could come in tonight. And you almost left immediately. But between the folks that came to approach you, you’d been floated up to the bar and then you figured one drink wouldn’t hurt you. And just like that, by the fates of the universe you found yourself in the position for Calum to approach you. 

“You’re staring,” Calum notes, pulling the truck into a space. 

“You’re handsome,” you return and then unbuckle yourself. It’s matter-of-fact and you’ve never exactly been one to hide your thoughts at least from Calum. You were the door that always seemed to cracked ajar. He was the door always closed. And yet, he’d seen your openness and wanted some. 

The two of you walk into the salon and Calum’s stylist greets you both with a smile. She waves him over to her chair and you settle into one of the plush chairs and pick up the latest edition of Vogue to preoccupy yourself. The rush of water, the buzz of clippers, the soft hum of music all mix above you and settle into your ears. You manage occasionally to catch Calum’s laughter ringing above all the sounds. When you glance up, you spot him in all the phases--at the shampoo bowl, waiting with his conditioner, back to the bowl, in the seat again. 

And you only really capture the events in glimpses, looking up to spot him in the area of the salon and then going back to your magazine. You’ve traded Vogue for Rolling Stones and then Rolling Stones for Cosmopolitan. You keep cycling through until you notice a presence creating a shadow over you. When you glance up, you spot Calum, grinning sans his hat. The bushy sides have been taken down, the long back shortened. The top’s been taken down too. The short cut accentuates all the sharp angles of his face. 

“What’s cookin’ good-lookin’?” you tease. 

“Ah, so you do like the mullet,” he teases, holding out a hand. 

“I like it when it’s fresh, if you must know.” As you ascend, you press a kiss to his cheek. 

“That calendar invite, by the way, has been accepted.”

You laugh at the wiggle of his brow. “But first grocery store?”

“Yes, to the grocery store. And we do need to get Duke’s food too.”

“Of course.” 

Duke’s paws click against the hardwood floors and it’s barely audible over the crinkle of the brown paper bags both you and Calum are carrying. Grocery shopping went smoothly and though you got sidetracked looking at vacuums. You wanted a new one, though nothing was wrong with the current one. With Calum at your side, he easily talked you out of it but did make the joke he’d put down as a birthday present. 

“So, burgers for dinner? I am feeling particular lazy,” Calum comments as the last of the grocery are put up. 

“Burgers sound good. Are we finishing the last of those fries too? The frozen ones?”

“We do need space in the freezer, so yes, I think we should.” Calum comments, trying to get the freezer door closed. 

“It’s the damn chili too,” you laugh, thinking about the containers you frozen a couple weeks ago. “I was supposed to take some to the studio this week but never defrosted them in enough time to actually do that, my bad.”

Calum laughs and takes one container down and places it into the fridge. “I’ll bite the bullet this week. But you have to take the other container next week, okay? Promise?”

Wrapping your pinky around his, you nod. “Swear it with a cherry on top.”

“My love, all your sayings are twisted,” he laughs but gets the oven preheating and a pan warming. You pull out the head of lettuce, a tomato, and an onion too. The second the pan sizzles with four patties, a second patty should either one of you want it, you’re already moving to slice and dice. Calum watches the way your forearms tense as you slide the knife through the onion. He knows it’s a small detail, something others might miss, but he follows the line of your body up. When his gaze settles onto your face, he’s so caught in the way your lips sit and your eyes have a small crinkle around them, that he knows is just from all the times you’ve smiled. 

“You’re the kind of person people create art about,” Calum states suddenly. 

You pause your cutting and look up. “I mean, you’re a song writer, so you’re saying you wouldn’t create art about me.” It’s a tease and he knows when you grin. 

“I mean I would and I do sometimes. But I just mean, like I get it now. You know. Why all the classics and all the art I’ve seen and the whole thing about muses. I get it now.”

Setting the knife down, you kiss his cheek. “Also please get our burgers to the other side so they don’t burn.”

With a small hiss, Calum turns back to the pan and gets the patties flipped over. “I’m on it, I promise.”

“Sure you are,” you laugh, one hand sliding between his shoulders and tracing his spine down. But you do get it. What a muse to have in front of you too. 

Since Calum cooked, though you did assist, you clean. The dishes aren’t massively overwhelming as you tried to clean just a little as Calum cooked. You’ve been washing mostly in silence until you catch the distinct plucking of some strings and you listen to Calum as he works. You assume some sort of inspiration as hit him and you’re content just to listen to him as he works from your place in the kitchen. 

The chords keep calling you though and when the sink sucks down the last bit of the sudsy water, you follow the sounds. The music room door is open and you lean up against the molding. Duke’s curled up on his bed next to the desk and Calum’s head is hanging low on his neck as if he needs every sense pressed up against the acoustic guitar to truly feel the emotion. 

Calum hums for a moment and then reaches around the instrument for the legal pad. “Want help or want company?”

“When it’s you, it’s both and I’m happy about it,” he grins. 

You pull the second computer chair from the corner over to his desk. “Play what you’ve got so far.”

“As you request Your Majesty.” 

Calum plucks out only about a verse worth of instrumentals. He plays it once without lyrics and then a second time singing to the lyrics he’s been scribbling down since dinner. You’re tapping the tempo out on your thigh, head reclining into the cushion of the seat. By the time Calum’s voice accompanies the chords, you’re already cooking up something. You turn to the keys against the wall. Your fingers fumble for a moment, but you get your rhythm quickly. Calum grins at the hums you’re giving, almost as if you had lyrics, but weren’t sure about it.

“I love you, but we are not going to try and slot orange into this song,” Calum laughs. He’s moved now to the couch, the guitar covering up this chest as he melts into the cushion. 

You watch your phone, having recorded some of your session just for memory sake. It’s still going and you push away from the computer. You’re trying to see the iambic pentameter of a line and you need the stressing that orange has to fit th line.  “I’m not saying we have to use orange. I’m just saying that word fits the pattern.”

“God, you sound like Luke a little. Let’s take it from the top, yeah. Something will hit us.”

You scoot yourself back to the keys and on Calum’s count, the two of you start the introduction of the song. As your voices mix in the air around you too, you find yourself feeling floaty. It’s the sensation you get when something is mixing just right, when all the sights, and sounds, and chords have mingled so well that it causes your body to almost leave this plane. You are here, but you are also not here. 

The song goes all the down until the final bridge and you two let the sounds of your notes fade out into the echoing room. “Maybe there’s nothing left to say,” Calum offers, his fingers still sliding over the frets. 

“Maybe not,” you agree and then grab your phone to pause the recording. “We can always sleep on it.”

“Let me hear,” Calum asks, sitting up. You play the video for him and he grins during the playback. That’s his love, that’s his muse right there on camera, singing about how the two of you inspire each other. “Should we post a small clip?”

You pause for a moment, feeling the shock pulling up your own brows. “If you’re sure. I know you’re not like, big on posting too much about us. And I respect that. It is a hell of a lot sometimes with the fans. But I don’t want you to feel forced to do it.”

He nods. “I’m sure.” It’s all he says. And for Calum, that’s all he needs to say. He starts to edit down a small clip and then exports it as a secondary video onto your phone. He sends a copy to himself and when his phone shakes with the text, he sets your down. 

There’s a few moments of silence and Calum’s finger tap over his screen. You start saving the stuff on the computer. It’s exporting and you know sometimes it can take a while. Duke pushes up from the bed and waddles out of the room. “I love you, Duke,” you call out after him. But he says nothing in response. “Typical.”

Arms slide around your shoulder and neck, hanging loosely. “So there’s still that calendar invite,” Calum whispers against your ear. 

You hum at the sensation of his breath hitting your skin. “Ah, yes, it would appear so.”

Calum gently pulls you away from the desk. “Shall we?” he grins. 

You laugh, but stand. “We’re getting older. We should stretch first.”

He scoffs, “I am still limber. Thank you very much.”

_____________

You don’t even have a mind to worry about your phone until the next morning. You sit up and reach for your night table only to be greeted just by your alarm clock and the family pictures of you, Calum, and Duke at the park from your first anniversary date. 

Peeling from the sheets, though Calum’s arm is still loosely encasing your waist, you get up and find your phone on the table in the music room. The screen is mostly a mess of notifications from Instagram and you think you really should turn those off at some point. You hadn’t yet out of fear, but now you worry having the notification is doing nothing but draining your phone’s battery life and your mental energy.  As you go to mass clear the notifications, you tap on one and the app opens up. It refreshes; the photos of friends from back home are replaced. The first one you notice is from Calum. The video plays without the sound and it’s the two of you from the night previously. You catch the caption, my muse at work.

[sasquapossum]

You know what else is kind of like a walkable city, and quite pleasant if you’re in the right mood? An airport. I know, I know, they’re hubs for the one kind of transport that’s actually worse than cars. Let’s put that part aside for a moment. As a place to be an airport is actually not that bad. Lots of stores and restaurants and other amenities, all readily accessible on foot, coexisting with carts for those who need them. No bikes mixing with pedestrians. Usually pretty well lit with high ceilings. Lots of places to sit. Relatively safe. Yes, crowded, but built to accommodate those crowds. Replace the planes and runways with some mid-rise housing and larger (e.g. grocery) stores, and you’d have a pretty nice self-contained city with no need to drive anywhere. 

If you should ever happen to be in an airport when it’s not crowded (but stuff is still open), it’s really not so bad. Even with the crowds, I never minded a few hours’ layover as much as other people seemed to. In fact, one of my favorite travel memories is being in the very large open space of the Dubai airport in the early morning, with the morning Muslim call to prayer echoing off the glass all around. Beautiful.

Americans love Disneyland because it’s a walkable city

[noforkingclue]

Hey what's up. I hope you had a great weekend.

May I please request a Steven Grant x reader where they are in a car chase with some of Marc's enemies who are trying to kill the reader and Steven. Would it be possible if you included the dialogue "There are no red lights in the middle of a car chase."

I hope this did not come across as being bossy, if it has im really sorry.

Have a great week :)

Thank you so much! I’m now on annual leave for two weeks and I’m so happy! Work has been very stressful lately so I’ve desperately needed a break!

Of course this didn’t come across as bossy! I loved Moon Knight and I’m glad I got a some requests for it :D

Hope you enjoy the fic!

Title: Chases

Marvel tag list: @geocookie21​, @greeneyedblondie44​, @purebloodwitch

Everything tag list: @greenrevolutionary​, @imjustassaneasyou​, @spngingerbread21​, @layazul​, @lov3vivian​

“Turn left! Turn left! Turn left!”

You gritted your teeth as the man in the passenger seat pressed himself further against the car door and gripped the seatbelt tightly.

“I know, Steven,” you said as calmly as you could manage, “I do live in London, y’know. I know which way I need to go.”

“Right,” Steven said awkwardly, “Yeah, I knew that. Silly me.”

“Although who the fuck starts a car chase in central London,” you muttered, “This isn’t a film. There are-“

“Pedestrian!”

“Shit!”

You slammed on the brakes at Steven’s yells and narrowly avoided hitting someone. You glanced at Steven out of the corner of your eye. He had his eyes tightly shut and you couldn’t help but feel sorry for him, although this was all Marc’s fault. Who knew that the bastard had so many enemies?

“Look,” you said as you briefly looked into the rear-view mirror, “I’m trying to find a place to dump the car. I think we’ve lost them for the time being. The sooner we get off the road the better.”

“Yeah,” Steven opened his eyes slowly, “Good thing you can drive.”

“Umm.”

You coughed awkwardly and avoided eye contact. Steven sat up straight and the panicked look returned.

“You can drive?” he asked desperately

“Of course I can,” you said, “I wouldn’t be driving in central fucking London if I couldn’t. It’s just…”

“Just what?”

“Legally speaking, I can’t.”

“What?”

“I didn’t pass my test. I almost did,” you added quickly, “It’s just my driving instructor was a cu- jerk. He failed me on one stupid little mistake.”

“So you don’t have a licence,” Steven flopped back in his seat, ��Great. We are breaking so many laws right now.”

“Now see-“

You didn’t get to finish your sentence before another car slammed into the back of yours. You swore and glared at them in the mirror.

“One good thing,” you muttered as people jumped out of the way, “No guns.”

“What a relief,” said Steven, “Marc doesn’t agree though.”

“Well tell Marc that he’s a dick.”

“He heard you.”

“Good.”

You gripped the steering wheel tightly as you desperately tried to lose the cars that were chasing you. Part of you was glad that it was Steven next to you, while the other part secretly wished that it was Marc. Marc was more used to situations like these and would’ve been able to lose the cars quicker than you could. Well, at least you hoped he could. You glanced at Steven again who looked like he was slowly recovering.

“Y/n-“

But you still needed to get rid of those damn cars.

“Y/n-“

If only you could find a place to dump your car then run to underground. Hopefully you’d be able to lose then in there and-

“Red light!”

“Fuck.”

You didn’t have time to hit the brakes and you narrowly avoided hitting another person. Steven was gripping the seat belt again and he said weakly,

“You skipped a red light.”

“There are no red lights in the middle of a car chase,” you said, “We really need to get out of London.”

“You’re being very sensible.”

You snapped your head around to glare at Steven. You opened your mouth to argue back when you realised that you had taken your eyes off the road. You jerked your head back just as the steering wheel slipped from your grasp. As quickly as that had happened a hand shot out a grabbed your hand, steadying the wheel.

“Not very sensible,” Marc voice seemed to cut through the noise like a knife, “Maybe Steven needs his view reassessed.”

You swallowed thickly as Marc remained near as he helped you steady the car. With your eyes firmly locked on the road in front of you, Marc looked behind.

“Well done,” he said, “You’ve managed to lose them. Good girl.”

You wrinkled your nose at Marc’s words which earned a chuckle from him. As he relaxed back into his seat you said,

“Should I asked why those people were chasing us?”

“Best not to worry about it.”

“Even if not knowing is why Steven and I get killed?”

“You won’t. I have faith in you.”

“Glad to hear it. Where to now? Hey are you sleeping?”

Marc, who did have his eyes shut, open one eye and said,

“Preferably out of the city. I trust you to keep us all safe.”

You remained silent as Marc shut his eyes again. You weren’t expecting Marc to say that or the odd feeling that you got in the pit of your stomach at his words. What you did know was that nothing good was going to come from it.

[jayjtheunsispiciousmelodicathem]

Since it’s Autism Awareness Month I have something to say

So I’m on the Autism spectrum, and one thing that really annoys me, angers me in fact, is how the neurotypicals react to our explanations of our behaviours or the way they tend to connect our awareness of our problems and our actions.

When I was younger I would often react with anger to being made fun of and bullied so I got in trouble pretty much all the time (besides that I was a good kid) and my mum often grounded me for that (which is fair, although at least half the cases was unjust because I only tried to defend myself or was pretty obviously provoked or tricked into. I never got an apology for any one of those unfair groundings but that’s besides the point).

Every time I was getting the talk, she told me something along the lines of “using your Asperger’s [yes, I know it’s not the proper term anymore, this was at least ten to six years ago and I’m only quoting] as an excuse will not get you out of trouble when you’re older”.

The problem?

I have never in my life used my neurodivergence as an excuse for my actions

You know how parents keep blaming the phones, internet etc for every single one of our problems? Yeah it’s kinda like that

I have never mentioned autism, not even in a walk-around way when explaining why I did something that I did - I only explained the cause and result e.g. “he kept mocking me, I told him to stop and he didn’t, I yelled at him to stop and he still didn’t, so I got angry”

When I do, however, mention neurodivergence, it’s when I’m explaining some of my behaviours that some people might find bizarre but not harmful to anyone, or explaining why I am so socially inept in person, or why I can’t do something as well as others can, or why I can’t get myself to read a new book or start a new show, or “properly” review material for school. That’s right, EXPLAINING.

For some reason most neurotypicals I’ve met think of explanations and excuses as synonymous, exactly the same even, and that’s what makes me angry.

Is gravity an excuse for things falling down? No, it’s an explanation Is needing oxygen an excuse for breathing? No, it’s an explanation Is being hungry an excuse for eating? No, it’s an explanation Is wanting to spend time with people and have some fun an excuse for going out or to a party? No

Excuses are half-assed, feeble, made out of laziness, and generally untruthful.

Explanations while not always strong due to one’s potential hardships with argumentation, are always made bona fide and in hope of the other side understanding why something happened.

I can’t do shit in PE because my neurodivergence affects my motor skills and makes me self conscious all the time because I’m around like 15 people less than half of which I can say something about beyond their appearance.

I can’t take good notes and review material like most other students do, because my neurodivergence affects the way I proccess and memorise information, so before I’m done writing down the first thing in a legible manner and so that I could gain info from it later, the teacher is ten sentences ahead already. I much better memorise by listening.

I don’t go to parties because my neurodivergence makes it suffering for me to spend time in a loud place where there are more than a hundred people who could judge me for anything and everything, including my lack of dancing skills which stems from the aforementioned lack of motor ability.

I don’t want to learn to drive because my neurodivergence keeps me from focusing on the road, which makes me not notice the potential pedestrians crossing the or makes me zone out and just drive as if there was only road before me and nothing else. Also my neurodivergence makes it very stressful for me to drive a car for reasons stated above as well as having to remember so many things at once is overwhelming, and it’s overall uncomfortable for me to drive.

I can’t clean the room up to my parents’ standards (even though it’s not that messy at all???) because with my neurodivergence it’s more comfortable for me to have my items arranged the way they are as it makes things easier for me to find, and I need a lot of things to be at hand.

These are just some of examples from my own experience, but somehow my mother still doesn’t understand I never make excuses.

So for Autism Awareness Month I want all neurotypicals/Allistics to know the difference and that

WE DON’T MAKE EXCUSES, WE OFFER EXPLANATIONS

please spread the word