#have to buy these giant fuck off vehicles even cars these days are fucking huge

[pom-seedss]

I am always terrified when I see an elderly person, who can barely stand swaying in the breeze, get behind the wheel of a modern pick up truck.

Like I watched this old man who couldn't even get in to the truck on his own get helped by a stranger into the vehicle and he just drove away in his 5,000-8,000 metal monstrosity.

And while I think no one should handle a machine that big without a more intense license I wasn't sure if this old man was even fit to drive a smaller car let alone one of these modern death machines.

But without a personal vehicle, I'm almost certain this guy wouldn't have been able to get around town at all. Because he was so shakey, because the bus schedules suck so bad, because they are often over crowded, because they take long circuitous routes. And no one deserves to be alienated and isolated just because they aren't able to navigate public transit (as it is now).

So I get people railing against the loss of independence that comes with removing personal vehicles from their lives. I get why the elderly even when they know they are impaired drivers will fight tooth and nail to keep their licenses, especially if they hadn't been disabled before they became elderly so have to deal with that change in status and ability. Like I emotionally understand where it comes from.

I still hate it when I come across scenes like that, because I know how dangerous it is to drive when you are not in fact able to do so (hi, it me, I was forced to drive long after it became unsafe for me to do so until I put my fucking foot down about it and decided to only drive in absolute emergencies). But I used to like, hate the individual drivers and I just can't anymore. Because it's a symptom of our car culture and our failures as a society to take care of each other.

It's a symptom of the wider problem of public transit being inadequate and often inaccessible. It is a symptom of our wider ableist society that says we all need to do things on our own instead of getting help from one another when we need it. It's a symptom of underfunding social services.

As far as powering public transport itself... which would still be an issue...I don't know the technical specifics well enough to figure out which of our current options is more energy efficient overall from minerals in the ground to rolling on the roads to be honest (though, both don't offer the long term solutions we need and they come at a real human and environmental cost of extraction)... but I will say that it doesn't matter how energy efficient we get if we just offset it with producing more and building things that need more energy to run, such as larger heavier cars that require more power even if the engine is more energy efficient.

It's so frustrating to me that people see electric automobiles as a green technology. They are anything but.

[sashi-ya]

Hiya ! If requests are still open for this week could I ask for Marco with a tiny fem!s/o with a size kink ??? Thank you so much and hope you’re having a great day 💕💕💕

Hi darling!! Of course! I hope you like it ♥ Thank u for your request and all of the support! Have a great weekend ♥ ~

NSFW ~ Marco x F! Tiny! Reader ~ You Are So Tight For Me ~

TW: NSFW. Size kink. Best friends to lovers. Sex at a party. Unprotected sex. Kind of rough sex.

WC: 1.7K

Tag list: @undercoverweeeb @mistyroselove

Marco and you have always been good friends, really good friends. You love him as much as he loves you, yet, you too never ever had any romantic or sexual interaction before. You are so close, people usually think you two are a couple, yet you aren’t. Still…

You > Oiiii pineapple birb, are you up for tonight’s party at Izo’s? Pineapple Birb > Oi Tontatta, yeah. Be ready at 8.

“Tontatta? What does he mean with “Tontatta”??... OH…” you say while throwing the phone to the bed and realizing he was mocking you by your short height. “You fucking giant pineapple…” you grunt as you enter the shower.

-----

The sound of Marco’s pick up horn announces he is already waiting for you outside. You take your bag and keys and head out.

“G’Night” you say, struggling to enter the vehicle. “Why the hell did he buy such a big car?” you think while stretching your arm to close the door. Of course, you fail in the first attempt so the doctor bends over you and closes the door. Marco is not huge but compared to you it’s pretty big. He pats your lap, strongly, laughing. “Why the hell are you so tiny?” he says. And you can’t help but squirm a little on the seat thinking about his huge hand over your thigh in a friendly way that you wish was with other intentions.

Rolling your eyes you tell him to stop making fun of you and start driving. “Fineee” he says and hits the gas. Music blasting suddenly makes you forget about the touch of his hand over your thigh and you two sing -shout- “Good 4 U” by Olivia Rodrigo.

Marco parks over Izo’s house. He descends the pick-up and helps you. “Jump to pappa” he says, laughing. You frown and burn holes into his eyes. “Shut up” you say as he snatches you from under your shoulders and puts you down on the street. You are surprised, he has never helped you like this. Still, you act annoyed, “Who does he think he is to treat me like this?” you think.

Walking towards the door, you can see from the window the shadow of a boy wearing a straw hat running around. “Luffy” Marco and you say, laughing.

The night goes by with alcohol and food, so much food. Sanji cooked the equivalent of three full restaurants just for you -specially Luffy-. Everybody is a little tipsy, and so do you. Kiku, Izo’s sister, comes up with the idea of watching a horror movie. Everybody, except Chopper and Usopp agreed. Law and Robin decided the title, and oh boy, that was gore…

The boys set up the projector, and everybody takes his place. Sanji and Zoro begin fighting because apparently, they were “too close to each other” on the couch. Everybody look at them thinking the same, “why the fuck do you sit together if you don’t want to be close?” but then all of you remember they haven’t still figured out how much they love each other. So, for the sake of the group’s peace, Marco suggests that you could sit over his lap, and so they will have more room.

You agree instantly and sit over Marco’s legs. Your back laying over his chest. You are so used to him that this doesn’t represent a problem for you. But then, Marco snakes his arms around your waist and presses you tight against his lap. “What is this boy playing tonight?” you think.

Somehow, the idea of feeling so tiny, so squeezed against his body is making your core feel a little… fancy.

The movie starts, and so far, you haven’t gotten scared until the murderer appears out of nowhere and stabs the victim from his back. You jump over Marco’s lap, so suddenly that he also gets scared. “Shh” he whispers in your ear. A shiver runs through your spine, as you feel Marco’s warm breath on your neck. “Sorry…” you excuse yourself. “It’s ok” he says, and rests his chin over your shoulder, squeezing your waist even tighter. You gasp and fidget your ass over his groin. “Fuck it, he wants me” you think. And indeed, you feel how a hard -huge- bulge grows under your bottom… All of a sudden, a different movie plays on your head, the idea of him fucking you with his huge member makes you wet, so wet.

You start to act scared with every little scene, and with that, a little hump over him that makes his member grow harder and harder. No one will notice, everything is dark, they are all into the movie. And with the last little jump, Marco has had enough “Stop doing that or I’ll have to fuck you right here in front of our friends” he whispers. You swallow, you wanted to turn him on, but you’ve never expected he would be so straightforward to you.

You slowly turn around your face, his nose touching your cheek. “Then fuck me if you dare” you tell him. A sexy side smirk draws on his lips, and his hands pressed your lower belly so your sex could feel perfectly how hard he is. You realize you are probably gonna have a big time when taking him all inside, and that fans the fire inside you. “I’m gonna go to the restroom” you tell him, with an inviting grin. He lets go of you, and you walk upstairs.

A few minutes later, the bathroom opens and Marco looks at you up and down, scanning you with lustful eyes. You sexily take your jacket off and let it fall to the ground. He closes the door behind him and walks steadily towards you.

His right hand squeezes your throat. His left leg in between your legs, lifting you up as your back is pressed against the cold tiles of the bathroom. “Come on, hump over my leg now” Marco says. You try to gasp for air and do as he tells you to. You rub your sex against his thigh, your legs hang at each side. He is so big compared to you…

He then grabs you by your waist and sits you over the bathroom counter. You spread your legs, so he can come closer. His mouth invades yours, lustfully, feral. This felt way better than the times you’ve dreamt of it.

When he is satisfied with the taste of your mouth, he lifts you up. You cross your legs around his waist and Marco carries you to the next room. Who knows whose room it is? but you don’t care… He throws you to bed, you lay on your back while he unbuttons his white shirt. You enjoy the show of the big man in front of you, your body begs to be destroyed, to be fucked.

“Marco…” you mumble. “Hm?” he asks. “Fuck me, rough” you tell him. “You sure? I’m afraid I’ll destroy your insides” he says while leaning over you, already taking off your pants. “That’s exactly what I want” you say and bite your lip. “You little whore” he says laughing and pounces into you.

He bites your neck; you carve your nails on his back. His huge hands take off your shirt, exposing your perfect body to him. “God, why are you so tiny? I’m gonna rip you” he says, with one of your nipples on his mouth. You moan as his tongue wets your breasts.

He then traces a path of wet smooches from your tits towards your sex. He licks and kisses your hot skin, and you squirm. Yet, you are anxious to see his member, you’ve been wanting to see that huge dick in front and inside you for so long…

A finger enters your sex. “Oh, even my finger feels tight inside you… I wonder how I am gonna fuck your little cunt?” he asks, and that turns you so fucking much, he has no idea. Then, the second finger in. Slowly, but surely you dilate enough -or so that’s what you thought- to receive his shaft.

“I think I can manage to fuck you like this” Marco says while lowers the zipper of his jeans. You swallow, you want it inside now. He finally flashes his eight inches dick to you. You widen your eyes and he notices it. “Are you sure?” he asks. “Fucking destroy me, Marco” you tell him, delighted by the huge member in front of your eyes.

“Sure, my dear” he says, and aligns the tip of his dick with your entrance. You are so wet that it slides perfectly and even if Marco tries to hold back not to hurt you, he can’t take it any longer. Soon, he is balls deep inside you. You whine, loud enough for the whole house to hear you. “Shhh, little whore” he shushes you and covers your mouth with his hand.

You feel your walls stretch, they burn, but you love it. A bulge forms in your lower stomach whenever he is deep inside you, you watch it and the image makes both of you extremely aroused. He is indeed destroying your tiny body, and you are enjoying every single moment of it.

And after intense thrusts, your insides clenches around him as you are ready to fall into an intense orgasm. “Mhh babe… you are so tight. Even after fucking you so much” Marco whines. You moan as the last deep plunges send you to climax heaven. You squirt on the base of his dick, so hard, relieving the pressure, biting Marco’s shoulder.

He does the same a few seconds after, and he does not back off until your insides get filled fully with his warm seed…

“So, are we dating now?” he finally speaks, while resting after an amazing fuck. “Well, yeah, finally” you tell him and laugh soundly. Everybody knew that, except you two…

“We should come back, don’t you think?” you say. “I hope they didn’t hear us…” Marco tells you kissing your forehead… ♥ ~

[hunterenough]

Life Changes

Chapter 3: Responsible Adults

Summary:  Dean gets a look at the way a responsible adult actually lives, and he really likes it. (Or maybe he just likes the responsible adult attached to the house he's looking at...)

Dean’s morning seemed to drag by, probably because he was looking forward to meeting with Castiel and checking out his potential new living situation. He’d let Benny, his lead technician, know that he might be a bit late coming back. He’d set the map on his phone for Castiel’s address, and Google had informed him that it was a four minute drive. Wouldn’t that be a nice change from his current half hour commute.

He pulled into the driveway at 12:04 exactly. The house was white with a dark grey foundation and trim. The walkway was shoveled, and everything looked well cared for. Dean climbed out of his car with his folder of check stubs and headed for the door. He knocked quietly before noticing the bell. Shit, do I ring the bell? Should I wait? What if he didn’t hear me knock. His thoughts were interrupted by the door opening.

Holy fucking hell. This guy, the guy he might be living with, was everything Dean had wet dreams about. His faded Led Zeppelin t-shirt stretched softly over his tone chest, highlighted his biceps. His hands, huge hands , cradled a steaming white mug with a bright yellow sun grinning from it. His dark jeans barely clung to his narrow hips, but they sure fit his muscled thighs well enough to make Dean drool. The face though, his face...perfect chiseled jaw, straight nose, fucking chapped looking red lips, all haloed by the most amazing sex hair he’d ever seen. But it was the eyes that held his attention. Intensely blue, hundreds of shades of blue , just staring at him.

Dean realized the guy was probably staring at him because he was fucking staring. Like a dumbass. He cleared his throat, and offered his free hand.

“Dean Winchester.” Smooth. At least his voice didn’t crack.

The man quirked his lip and shook the offered hand.

“Hello Dean. Castiel Novak. Nice to meet you. Come in.” He stepped back from the door to let Dean enter. He closed the door behind himself, and Cas gestured behind it. “You can take off your coat if you’d like.”

The entry was as orderly as the yard had seemed to be. A series of hooks hung behind the door, two covered by coats, with a shelf of totes above. Under it, stood a shoe rack, half filled with shoes, on a shallow drip tray which currently homed a pair of wet snow boots. Dean toed out of his shoes, glad that he’d opted for the steel toed shoes instead of his normal work boots this morning, and lined them up on the tray. He offered the folder he’d been holding out to the other man before taking his coat off and hanging it with the others. The folder found a home on the small side table, next to set of keys and a bowl of change. Another door, presumably to the garage, was just past the table.

“So, a tour? The main part of the house is pretty open.” Castiel gestured widely with his free hand.

“Sounds great. I love what I’m seeing so far.” It looked like all of the walls were the same soft blue-grey color with creamy white trim. It was practical, he supposed, for the big open space. It looked...peaceful.

Castiel stepped into the living room, and Dean noticed his bare feet sink into the plush carpet. There was a huge sectional, facing a gas fireplace with a widescreen TV mounted above it and floor to ceiling bookshelves on either side, both nearly full of books, movies, and photos, though again, everything looked well organized. An ottoman occupied the space in front of the couch, and two comfortable looking chairs formed the fourth corner. Overall, it looked like a great place to relax after work. Dean nodded.

“I don’t spend much time here, really, except on the weekends. By the time I get home from work, I’m ready for a shower and bed.”

“Yeah, I know the feeling. You said you have a funky schedule?”

“I work on the oncology ward at the hospital. The afternoon shift is 2- midnight.”

“Long days doing that kind of work.” Dean’s days were generally at least the same ten hours, but he didn’t have to deal with sick people. He’d been in hospitals enough to know that nurses worked hard, and often the work sucked.

Castiel shrugged. “Could be worse. A lot of hospitals run twelve hour shifts now, and I’ve got seniority, so I get the Monday-Thursday schedule. Always a three day weekend. It helps that I love my job.” He walked around the couch as he was talking, and Dean followed. “This is the dining room. I use it even less than the living room actually.”  He bypassed the long dark wood table and chairs to move into the kitchen. “When I do actually sit down to eat, I usually eat at the island.”

The kitchen was gorgeous. Dean imagined it could be featured in one of those home-decorator magazines he kept in the lobby for his customers. There were miles of granite counter top over dark wood cabinets. A bank of upper cabinets was balanced on one end by the wide stainless steel refrigerator, and on the other by the professional looking stove and hood. A half-full coffee pot was set next to the refrigerator, but very little else cluttered the space.

“I cook a little, but cooking for one sucks. I want to get better at it though, it’s one of my resolutions.” Dean moved further into the kitchen.

“My cooking is generally limited to scrambled eggs, toast, cold sandwiches, and spaghetti with jarred sauce, so you’re probably ahead of me already.” He pulled open a narrow drawer on the island. “I’ve got menus for every delivery and takeout place in town though.” He grinned as he waved down at the collection. “I promise not to touch anything on your side of the refrigerator though. You don’t have to worry about me stealing your leftovers.”

“Noted. Definitely an improvement over my current roommate. I’m lucky if he leaves anything for me to eat, even though I do all of the grocery shopping.”

“Ahh, I had an ex like that. Always hungry, but never bothered to actually buy food.” He shook his head.

Dean just grunted in agreement, and they moved into the hallway.

“Unfortunately, there’s only one full bathroom.” He opened the first door on the left. “Fortunately, it is very well equipped.”

“No shit!” Dean had stepped into the huge room. “Sorry, it’s just, I’ve never seen a bathroom like this outside of a fancy hotel.” The shower was walled in pristine white subway tiles, the open side a wall of glass. Towel hooks were mounted to the front. He could count at least four shower heads, plus the rain fall head above. One of the two shelves in the shower was half full of bottles, but the other was empty.

“It’s probably my favorite room. Sometimes, after a particularly bad day, I like to take a soak before bed.” He gestured at the deep soaker tub.

“Oh my God, that sounds awesome.” After a day hunched over his desk doing paperwork, his entire back felt like one giant cramp.

Cas nodded, then gestured at the double sink. “This sink would be yours.” He indicated the one by the toilet. “It has a medicine cabinet behind the mirror.” He popped it open showing several empty shelves before closing it again. “I keep my towels and washcloths in the bottom drawer, and cleaning supplies under my sink, but you’re welcome to the rest of the space.

Dean smiled at the idea that he’d already been accepted. “Given our schedules, I doubt we’ll have much trouble balancing bathroom times. Sounds like I’m out the door before you’re up and you’re gone before I get home.”

“Yes. Should make it easy to keep from fighting over the shower.” He grinned over his shoulder as he stepped back into the hall.

“This is a guest bathroom,” he opened the first door on the opposite side of the hall revealing a toilet and small vanity, “So we really only have to share with overnight guests.” He opened the next door. “And this is the guest room. It’s a little small, but occasionally one of my siblings comes in for the weekend to visit. You’re welcome to use it for guests as well, if you’d like. Either way, it’s probably a good idea to put in on the house calendar so we don’t end up double booking.”

The guest bedroom, though Castiel had called it ‘small’ offered a queen bed, a wide dresser, and a double closet. It was pretty much what he’d imagined renting. Dean shrugged. “My family lives pretty close, so I don’t really have anybody who would need to spend the night. Unless, I become clinically insane and offer to have my nephews overnight, but I really don’t see that happening.”

“They’d be welcome on the weekend. How old are they?” He’d pulled the door closed again and moved further down the hall.

“Three and five. We’re celebrating full potty training and no accidents now. Very exciting.”

“Oh, that is!” His grin was something else, and Dean couldn’t help but smile back as he opened the door to the next room. “This is the den.” He stepped inside. It was clearly a converted bedroom, similar in size to the guest room, with the same closet. A desk sat on each wall, one with papers stacked on top, each with a plush rolling chair tucked under it. In the corner by the closet, there were two wide arm chairs and a coffee table. Castiel had moved to the closet and swung it open. “I actually have several nieces and nephews myself, so there’s a stash of stuff in here just in case.” Dean noted several labeled totes, ‘coloring,’ ‘blocks,’ and ‘vehicles’ caught his eye before the door was closed and Castiel was moving back to the desk. He tapped at a whiteboard mounted above it. “This is the house calendar. Basically, I just use it to organize bills, etc. But if we’re having guests, that’s probably a good thing to note as well. And I keep a running grocery list. I thought maybe we could take turns picking up the standard household things, toilet paper, coffee, etcetera, but if you prefer, we can do it a different way.”

“No, that sounds fine. I usually shop on Saturday, unless something comes up in the meantime, and I don’t mind picking up whatever.”

They wandered back into the hall and to the final two doors, both open. “These are the twin masters.” He walked into the room on the right, indicating for Dean to follow. “This one is mine. Sorry, I haven’t gotten to laundry.”

The room was huge, with an unmade made king sized bed, a pair of dressers, and again, what looked like a very large closet. The mentioned hamper was tucked into the corner by the dressers, and that and the mussed bedding were about the only thing he’d seen in the house that was disorderly. Still, it was the little sitting area that caught Dean’s attention. Again he felt like he’d stepped into a high end hotel. A wide chair with a matching ottoman was tucked into the corner, flanked by bookcases, and a small rolling table was positioned over one arm holding a laptop.

“Judgement free zone.” Dean lifted his hands. “Besides, I was kind of starting to wonder if you kept a maid or something. The whole place is spotless.”

“It’s not too hard, since I rarely have time to mess it, but I do look forward to splitting the chores.”

“Is that the only reason you’re looking for a roommate? I mean I dated a nurse once, and he made as much as me at least.” Dean blushed a little, well, that hadn’t really been how he’d meant to bring up the fact that he was bi, but now that it was out, he supposed it would be good to know how Castiel would react.

“Honestly, that’s definitely part of it. I bought this house a couple of years back, with the intention of starting a family. My partner at the time, didn’t have the same ideas, which I found out when I found him in the hot tub with his assistants. Plural. I love the house, I really do, but it it’s just so big for just me. It gets...lonely.”

Dean huffed out a breath. OK, so he was either gay or bi himself, one thing less to worry about, but that sounded like a really rough breakup. “Man, I’m sorry. That really sucks. My last real breakup was pretty amicable, but I’d gotten pretty close to her kid, so that sucked. Still, at least you got to keep the house, and it really is awesome. I wound up in a shitty third floor walkup.”

“So did Fergus.” Castiel chuckled and led Dean back to the door. “This place was always mine. At any rate, this one would be yours. It’s the same as mine, just opposite. I didn’t ask, do you have furniture?”

The room looked even bigger empty. “I have some, but seeing your room, I think I might get some new stuff. I can call it doing something for myself and tag it as part of my resolutions.” He grinned at the other man. His bedroom set was nice enough, and he loved his memory foam mattress, but the idea of upgrading to a king sized bed, of actually having all of his bedroom furniture match, it was definitely appealing.

Castiel grinned. “I donated everything that was here when Fergus moved out. It was cathartic. New furniture for my fresh start. I wouldn’t mind going with you, it can be a little tedious on your own.”

“I have a feeling I don’t want to get on your bad side. I might come home to find all my crap on the front lawn.”

Castiel laughed out loud. “Don’t fuck your barely legal assistants in the hot tub, and we should be fine.” He turned and started back down the hall.

“I’d have bigger problems than you to deal with if I did that. Benny, my lead technician, has been married for a long time, and his old lady can be downright scary in that Stepford wife kind of way. Charlie, my left-hand girl, is a gold-star lesbian, and I’m pretty sure she’d kill to protect her record.” He was teasing, but both were facts he didn’t want to ever test.

“One less thing to worry about then. Emptying the hot tub is a bitch.” He opened a door in the entryway that Dean hadn’t noticed before, and flipped on a light before heading down a flight of stairs.

The basement, at least the half that he could see from the bottom of the stairs, was finished, and as well maintained as the upstairs, if a lot more industrial looking. At the bottom of the stairs, the laundry area occupied a length of the wall, with a matching high-efficiency washer and dryer set, a deep wash sink between them, a long stainless steel counter for folding, a bar for hanging clothes, and wall mounted drying rack and ironing board.

“I usually do my laundry on Sunday afternoon, but I don’t mind negotiating that. I could probably do it Friday while you’re at work.”

Dean shook his head. “No worries. I like to do mine in the morning, usually Saturday, but sometimes I slack until Sunday. I can have it out of the way by noon, no problem.”

Castiel nodded and gestured to the rest of the room. “The basement is sound proofed, so you don’t have to worry about making noise down here while I’m sleeping.” The rest of the room was clearly used as a home gym. The floor was covered in thick rubber mats, and there was a treadmill, an elliptical, a weight bench with a rack of weights, and an exercise ball. The other half of the room was clear except for a small tote, though there was a TV mounted on the wall surrounded by several full length mirrors. “You’re welcome to use any of the equipment of course. I practice yoga, so there’s blocks and straps and stuff in the tote if you’re interested. Otherwise, there rest of the basement is mostly unfinished. It’s sealed, but that’s about it. You can use it for storage if you want. I have Christmas stuff stuck in there.” Cas shrugged. “I guess that’s about it. Hot tub is on the back deck, the yard is fenced in and completely private. Oh, the garage. You run an automotive shop, I’m sure you’re interested.”

“You say that like you aren’t.”

“Well, I enjoy not having to scrape the ice off of my windows.” It was said with a small smile. He led them back upstairs and to the other door in the entry.

“This is the door I usually use.” He pulled it open and stepped down into the garage. There was a blue SUV parked in the spot closest to the door, with the area in front of the other door empty. The garage was deeper than he’d expected, probably big enough to park two cars lengthwise, though the area in front of the SUV was occupied by a large work bench. “I don’t really use anything in here except the freezer.” He indicated an upright freezer near the door. “You can use the workbench if you want. Unfortunately, the snowblower died in the middle of that last big storm, so we’re stuck shoveling.”

“Or, you tell your mechanic housemate that the snow blower’s broken, and he fixes it.” He was grinning like a clown, he was sure, but the place was perfect, close to work, amazing space, great housemate and a heated garage . Seriously, could it get any better?

“So you like it?”

“Dude, it is perfect. I’m not convinced you’re not a serial killer it’s so nice and the rent is so affordable, but at this point, I think I might be willing to help you bury a body or two for a chance to live here.”

“Awesome. You’re the first person that’s answered the ad that I think I’d actually like to share a house with.” He glanced at his watch “I really need to get ready for work, but I can give you a copy of the lease to read over, and you can text me with questions. I can’t always answer right away, but I usually get a few minutes here or there. When were you looking to move in?”

“Honestly, unless you ask for my firstborn as deposit, I’ll put notice in tomorrow, so within the next two weeks if that’s OK?”

Cas was nodding. “Anytime. We can work out the details this weekend.” They’d moved back to the front door.

“Thanks so much for showing me this place, Castiel. This is exactly what I was hoping for.”

Cas glanced at the contents of the folder Dean had given him earlier, and added a sheaf of papers, and waited until he’d put his shoes and coat back on before handing it to him. “My friends call me Cas, and since I’m looking forward to sharing a house with you, I’m hoping you’ll fall into that category.” He offered Dean a hand to shake.

“Can’t wait Cas. I’ll shoot you a text if anything comes up with the lease, otherwise, I’ll plan on giving you a call Friday after work. Sound good?” He didn’t really want to leave, now that he was here, but he had to get back to work as well. He took the offered hand, and shook if firmly.

“Sounds good. Have a great afternoon Dean.” He moved to hold the door open.

“You too Cas.” He waved as he headed to his car.

He was actually looking forward to canceling the other appointments he’d made. No way could he get a better deal than this.

More Notes:

Three chapters in, and they finally meet. Can you actually imagine a meeting between these two that doesn't involve some kind of awe on Dean's part?

P.S. The description of Cas was very inspired by this magnificent piece of art (https://www.redbubble.com/people/jackiedeeart/works/35675771-sunshine?c=408643-supernatural). That's a redbubble link because I firmly believe everyone needs this in their house.

P.P.S Sorry about the gratuitous amounts of house description. I'm hoping it will help in the coming chapters to know your way around.

[francisthegreat]

Holy shit y'all.

First of all, came home to horrifying news of what happened in Charlottesville. Absolutely heartsick and if anyone knows of a way I can help, please let me know. Second, LET! ME! TELL YOU! About this trip. So. Trip starts off fine - car jams to the airport, rocking out and having a great time, plenty of time for our flight. Then, we get to the airport and go through security and I get stopped. I'm thinking, oops I left a water bottle or something, whatever. I ask if everything is okay and take a step forward, security dude throws up both hands and yells "MA'AM PLEASE DO NOT MOVE." I'm like ... uh ok Then he calls like ten of his friends over, I'm swarmed by TSA people, they call the security manager guy or whatever. I'm freaking out a /little/. They're ALL looking at me, one guy takes my ID and starts WHISPERING my ID information into his walkie talkie and I'm like ????? I look over at my partner and I'm like shrugging and the security guy is like so fucking jumpy like "MA'AM WHO ARE YOU TALKING TO" Walkie talkie guy is still talking and over his walkie I hear this crackled "no priors" ??? OF COURSE I HAVE NO PRIORS WTF turns out I left my nightstick in my purse but really yall? I'm 105 pounds. I'm not going to storm 10 security guys with a weapon I don't even have in my hands. So they confiscate it after asking if I was law enforcement (???no) and giant security man is like "I have a feeling you'll just buy another" like no shit dude we just talked about this of course I'm going to replace the thing that makes me feel safer but whatever. So, after that I lose my ticket. Turns out fine I make it on anyway. THEN THEN. The wild shit starts. We get there, set up camp, hang out and we are drunk af and it's time to go to bed cause we have some serious white water in the morning to rest up for. I'm falling asleep and I get woken by a frantic person in camp going WHATS THAT LIGHT all the sudden it's impossible to breathe. Smoke is everywhere. Eyes, throat, nose, you name it. Other side of the mountain across the river is lit up from the back at first, then over the mountain comes this ROARING ASS WILDFIRE. I mean huge. It's the desert and it's fire season and it's insane. It looks like the gateway to hell. Flames are like 40 feet tall, it's getting hotter and I'm panicking but it's still across the river so everyone seems cool with it. Emergency vehicle from the Reservation comes up like "we have an evacuation shelter you guys should come, no one is on this fire. It's a low priority we have some others in residential areas" So. We are at camp. Drunk. In the desert. In the middle of the night. And a wildfire is growing in strength like, feet away from us across the riverbank. Wind picks up a little. It starts RAINING embers down on the camp like fucking Pompeii. My drunk ass is crying. Of course. And frantically packing up my shit after jumping out of bed while getting an ash bath. Our party is finally like FUCK IT LETS GET IN THE BOATS AND GO So we throw all our shit in the rafts, we jump in, we take the fuck off, its past midnight and we are rafting white water IN THE DARK, headlamps barely work from all the smoke, everyone is just paddling and praying Thankfully the RAGING HELL INFERNO lit our way to the next campsite where we just collapsed onto the ground and didn't even set up camp we just slept scattered everywhere Anyway the next day we evacuated so That's what happened on my trip

[stickthatinyourstraw]

Beginnings

I’m going to start journaling here on my ole tumblr account. For anyone who still follows me, if this isn’t your thing, you’re welcome to go. I just need to find a new way to release some thoughts and energy on a regular basis. Who knows how often I’ll even get around to it. Ideally daily would be great, but considering how scatter-brained I really am, it’s unlikely. This’ll be a kinda stream of consciousness type thing, where I don’t go back and edit it, I just post what I’ve written.

So I guess I’ll start with what makes me want to do this in the first place; I don’t know how to deal with my own emotions or thoughts, and I feel like venting about it to no one on the internet might make me feel better. I went out with Wyatt tonight, and it all just stressed me out. To set the background, and so I’ll remember with context later; today was a chill day at work, I got to go in when I wanted for just education, so I slept in and grabbed Starbucks on my way in. Nothing particularly special happened, except for some sweet gossip that I love to hate; Jerenda is moving from her manager position to be a CCU nurse. I imagine that’s a pay cut, and I’m surprised Debbie is letting her go, but she must really be suffering like the rest of us were (and some still are). I asked Cassie to get with her old contacts in CCU and give me updates on how she does, more specifically if she fails, so I can report back to all my old buddies on the floor. She deserves every ounce of shit she gets up there. The rest of my work day was generally uneventful, but I ended up coming home to a paper towel confettied mess, because Wyatt hadn’t put the boys up this morning like he usually does. Not a huge deal, but I can’t find the damn broom, so I’m going to leave it for him to see and clean up, though it does stress me out every time I go out there. If I just ignore it, it doesn’t exist, right? Wyatt came home after with his car back out of the shop, he had some thing done to soften the ride and raise the suspension or whatever, but they ended up somehow fucking it up and lowering the damn thing even more. Now you can’t even fit a finger in the wheel well. I’ll admit that the ride was smoother, however even the slightest bumps sounded like the entire undercarriage of the car drug on the ground. So we rode out to the Habitat for Humanity food truck fest at the baseball stadium to meet Dad for some dinner. I got a giant redneck cup full of sweet tea, and Wyatt had a couple beers. He had Mahi tacos from Wrighteous Eats, I had a macaroni and pulled pork grilled cheese from Who Cut the Grilled Cheese? All in all, pretty good stuff. Dad wasn’t hungry, and Wyatt wanted to get to his buddy John’s car meet, so we left around 7. Now, I used to take a lot of issue with his driving style, because he tends to speed and take turns and corners too quickly for my liking, but since he put new tires on and stiffened the suspension in the Accord, it gripped a lot better and I felt I could trust it more. Well, it’s been raining for the last two days, so it’s damn wet outside, and I don’t care how much grip your tires have, if you go too fast on a turn, you’re putting not only us in danger, but other people as well. He flew down 110 at about 70, driving past a wreck with an overturned truck and a few state troopers. I felt it would’ve been smarter not to speed past the troopers, but whatever. We get to 29 and he has to do a fly by for the boys, so he hauls ass at like 70 down the 45 zone to get some good muffler noises, then does a U-turn and comes up to the shop. As soon as we get out of the car (whose door I’ve just locked), he and Rylan jump into a souped up Civic and go for a ride. I barely got an “I’ll be right back, love you babe!” before he hopped in and they took off in the little red fart can. 5 minutes go by and I’m getting antsy, standing in a mechanic’s parking lot with a bunch of strangers in the dark, waiting for my doofus boyfriend to get back. I text him and tell him, “I am not interested in hanging out here alone with strangers.” He replied with “I’ll be back in a sec, they needed me to buy beer.” Okay, fine. He’s gone almost another ten minutes, and needless to say, I hadn’t arrived in the greatest mood as it was. They get back, and I’m audibly irritated with him, and he asks if I’m mad at him for going, and I say that I kinda am for just immediately taking off and leaving me alone with strangers for 15 minutes. He tells me to “calm down”, which we all know how well that works out. He says “whatever dude”, my favorite pet peeve phrase out of his mouth, and walks off to put the beer away. He then goes to talk to this kid who’s bought himself a piece of shit Accord and proceeds to give him the old coilovers off his car that he’d had replaced today. The kid (19) is super excited, and proceeds to gush about his Accord to Wyatt, who’s just thrilled to have someone with the same car as him. Wyatt takes him for a ride in his car to show it off, and I stay behind because I have no interest in being complicit in his going 80 down Hwy 29. Two different groups of guys were making shitty remarks about Wyatt’s car, and though I couldn’t make out specific sentences, I could hear the snickering about how slow he was. They made fun of him. All I could think of was that I hoped no one knew I was his girlfriend. I didn’t want to be made fun of too, nor did I want to make anyone stop talking about it. I wanted to hear their unfiltered and unbiased opinions. Those opinions were not nice. Then they got back and Wyatt asked if he could go for a ride in the kid’s car, and though I gave him a dirty look, I wanted him to just do it and get it over with. He saw my face and told the kid “maybe another day” but I whispered “he has the mental maturity of a 4 year old, just go with him and make his fuckin day.” They left, the kid’s muffler dragging against the ground the whole way. Once again, all I could think of was “please for the love of God no one acknowledge that I know half of the brain power in that vehicle.” They made endless fun of that shit bucket car, even after they came back. Wyatt did get a semi-backhanded compliment from Rylan about his car from the ordeal, “This car is a piece of shit. Accords are not all pieces of shit, because your car isn’t a piece of shit, but this car is.” That made Wyatt happy, which is all I ask for. Now, note that this entire time we’ve been here, and I mean since we rolled up into the parking lot, I’ve had to pee. I’m on my period, so I’m already bloated, and I just finished about a quart of sweet tea and a giant grilled cheese and tots, so I’m busting at the seams here. He asks if I want him to take me home so I can pee, but I don’t necessarily want to abandon him and leave, I just want to go somewhere relatively clean, not the mechanic’s bathroom in the shop that I’ve just seen three kids running in and out of and playing in. No thanks. But eventually I just give in and let him take me home, and here we are. Writing to you, the void. It’s nice to just sit here on my computer, on the couch, in my own home, in the dark and the quiet, with three relatively calm dogs at my sides. Cali popped up out of a box and scared the shit out of Shep, so I’ve had something to laugh at.

I need to try and study a bit for the HESI and then sign up to take it next week so I can get my dumbass into school. I don’t really know what I want anymore. I want to help people, and I think I want to do it via emergency medicine, but I honestly don’t know if I’m equipped to handle that. Sure, I love the blood and guts in videos and shit, but what about in real life? I haven’t had a chance to see a real surgery yet, and with the way that I’ve handled things in the past, I’m nervous I’ll be too weak for it. Plus, going back to 3 12s every week and working those long and miserable hours on my feet with a bunch of grouchy ass patients. I really like the whole unconscious patients thing, they haven’t got much room to talk back. The other thing I’m worried about with nursing is being able to even get through school. Sure, if Glenn can get through it, I imagine I can too. But how do I learn all those medications? The abnormal heart rhythms? The various symptoms and variations of diseases and their processes? In just four semesters? How do I manage all that in such a limited time? I’ve never been particularly good in school, and I’m lazy as all hell, with my “if you don’t know it by now, there’s no point in studying any more” bullshit mentality. I know I shouldn’t be like that with schooling that determines my career, but I can’t help myself but not give a shit. It’s been almost a week since registration for the summer opened up and I still haven’t signed up for a class. I don’t know how I’ll be paying for it either, with the lack of Florida prepaid left over at this point. I’ve only got 37 hours left, but thankfully only need 42 hours for this AA. Beyond that, I’m shit outta luck. 

I’m just not feeling the motivation for anything. I don’t know if it’s that I don’t feel motivation any more, or that I never felt it to begin with. I wasn’t motivated in middle school or high school, and certainly not the first time around in college classes. But I just don’t feel motivation to do things that I enjoy. It reminds me a lot of when I would come straight home from school and just sink into the couch to watch Netflix until late at night, without bothering to do much homework or any studying, much less any self care. I don’t have the motivation to shower every day, I don’t remember to brush my teeth every morning if I don’t go to work like normal, I never wear makeup and usually don’t brush my hair. I never eat breakfast or enjoy my coffee or wake up at the first alarm without snoozing. I don’t play videogames anymore, and I don’t have much interest in plants anymore. I don’t keep up with my part of house work and yet still get frustrated with Wyatt when he doesn’t do his part. I neglect my old passions and belongings. I don’t try. I don’t really care, even. I just feel so empty sometimes. I feel like I have a hole in my stomach, like I’ve tried to fill a void with hobbies and interests and food and friends, and nothing ever seems to work, or at least not for long. I’m not really depressed right now, but maybe it’s just that it’s grown into something different. Maybe this constant emptiness is my new form of deep sadness. I don’t cry a lot anymore, and I haven’t been suicidal in a couple months. Even when I have been sad lately, I’ve thought about the idea of suicide taking away the pain, but it just doesn’t feel like the right solution anymore.  I guess that’s a good thing, not wanting to die, even if I don’t really feel like I am living. I’m just so upset about everything all the time. I’m worried I’m too handsy and mean with the dogs. It breaks my heart every time I raise my hand to Lillie and she cowers, and I know that I’m the one who’s done that to her. I don’t beat her, but I’ve used my hands to train, and I know it’s wrong. I guess that makes me one of the bad guys. I hate myself for it, because I can’t control myself in the moment, I just see this blind rage and I lash out at the object of my anger, and then afterwards realize I was wrong in handling it the way I did. Do I even deserve these dogs? Sheppy paces out of boredom, and I’m worried Lillie will end up doing the same. They’re just so high energy, and I’m so not, I can’t motivate myself to take care of them the way I know they deserve. I hate myself sometimes. This is one of those moments where I wish I could just die, but I know I don’t want to. I don’t know what to do with myself anymore. I think I’ll schedule another appointment with Dr. Kim and talk it out with her. I really need help with Wyatt most of all. I’m worried about him, and I’m worried about the way I treat him. He absolutely deserves better than I’m giving him, but I couldn’t stand to lose him. He really is my whole world, but like with Lillie, when he aggravates me, I just lose all sense of right and wrong and just go with an aggressive and hateful base instinct of doing what I want. I’m trying to be better, but I feel like since I’ve stopped therapy, I’ve slid back some. I haven’t been so kind, patient, and forgiving. He deserves that much from me, when I know he does the same for me.

Anyway, at this point, I’m just rambling thoughts of things that have come to mind lately, and I think this is sufficient for the first journal post. If you’re a follower and you’ve made it this far, I’m so sorry for you, it was not worth it bud. But for me when I come back and read this later, be more forgiving to him. He didn’t mean it that way, he didn’t intend to make you feel like that, he didn’t mean to upset or bother you. Sometimes he’s just oblivious, and he still can’t read your mind. Give him the patience he deserves, and the love and support and acceptance he needs. Give more of yourself to him, don’t be selfish, share a little.

Cheers

[criticalerrorka]

Sharing the Excitement

I don’t share a lot of my personal life, or really make many original posts these days. This can be mostly attributed to the fact that I am always on mobile and don’t like the limited amount of editing I can do or the time that it takes me to write out long things on a phone keyboard. 

So, I’ve been driving a piece of shit car for the last 6 years. A 1998 Chrysler Sebring JXi convertible with a salvage title and a slow-drip oil hemorrhage. Within the first year of owning this car, I began putting away savings for a different car. See, this car had always been intended as a “temporary fix.” It was bought for me (by my dad, from one of his good friends) when my 1998 Dodge Stratus took it’s fourth or fifth shit. The damn thing had over 200k miles on it and we sold it for scrap (the Dodge, not the Chrysler).

Problems my Sebring has developed over our six year relationship include but are not limited to:

Dead trunk suspension. TBH, I think it might’ve been dead when I got the car. For most of my car’s duration with me, I have had my “trunk stick”, which I wedge into the trunk of the car to hold it open. 

A steady leak at the front windows during heavy rain.

A back window dropped off the track, then Macgyvered to stay mostly closed (with about a half inch gap) and never open again. Also leaky.

A driver’s seat belt that frequently tries to merge you with the seat because it’s locking up and won’t loosen, only tighten. 

A water leak in an unknown and unidentifiable location that guaranteed every three to four days I would have to check my fluid levels before driving the car.

A gas gauge needle that won’t go above 3/4 tank, so even when I spent extra money filling the tank, I never got the satisfaction of seeing the needle on FULL. Also, couldn’t quite trust it when it got close to empty.

A dysfunctional horn that also had to be Macgyvered--my dad rewired it to a weird little button on a string that sat in one corner of my dashboard. Super-impracticable, but it passed inspection. Prior to the re-wiring, the fuse for the horn had been pulled out, because one cold morning I went outside, cranked my car to warm it up, hit lock on my key fob to keep strangers out of my cranked car while I went back in to finish getting ready... and promptly began panicking, because instead of a single “honk” to indicate the car had locked, I was greeted with “HOOOOOOOOOOOONNNNNNNNNNKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKK” and NOTHING WOULD STOP IT. My horn was stuck in the “on” position at fucking 6:30 in the morning and I had to barrel back inside and wake up my boyfriend because I had no fucking clue what to do. 

Illegal tint. My dad bought this car from a collision repair center owned by a friend of his. It had been the friend’s wife’s car before she upgraded. (Ironically, this woman used to drive me to school in the 7th grade because they lived in my neighborhood and her daughter was a grade below me, and at the time this car was my DREAM car, because I didn’t know anything about cars but it was purple, and this was like 2001 so it was relatively new.) So, car guy KNOWS the tint isn’t inspection-legal. But for the first few years I own the car, no one at the inspection station cares. It’s JUST BARELY out of the legal range, not super-blackout-tint or anything like that. Then one day I fail inspection, I’m told that police have been cracking down on tint more so the inspection guys likewise aren’t looking the other way, and I have to go home and peel off all of my already-failing tint with a razor blade and a hair dryer. 

Magic smoke. Like, a LOT of magic smoke. At some point, she had been cured of the magic smoke (not sure what surgery helped with that). But for a while, it was embarrassing to go through a drive thru or any place my car would be idling for a while, because I would just be smokescreening the people behind me.

Extreme seat-cushion cracks, deterioration, exposure. My driver’s seat was 2/3 exposed foam.

Never gets warm. Between the compromised windows and the overall shitshow status of the car, it would take about 20 minutes for hot air to start coming out of the vents. And even then, the car would never truly feel warm.

A stuck passenger seat. Like, something got stuck in the track so it wouldn’t slide forward or back anymore.

Oh, I almost forgot about this one! One time I was vacuuming the car and I moved my driver seat all the way up and IT GOT STUCK. I had to drive with it like that, dangerously close to my steering wheel, windshield, and airbag, for a very terrifying 15 minutes to interrupt my dad at his job so I didn’t have to worry about an airbag snapping my neck.

One of the speakers died. I don’t think I blew it out--I hate bass and I don’t listen to my music very loud. It just gave up.

Around the same time the horn got an attitude, it stopped making any sound when I locked my car. I used to just spam the lock key and listen for the beep if I was in a crowded parking lot trying to find my car, but this was taken away from me. 

Towards the end, the locking mechanisms’s relation to my key fob was very strained by cold weather. If it was below freezing in the morning, I would have to unlock the door with the key itself instead of the button.

For a while, some of the electrical stuff was funny. The CD player wouldn’t get power and I would have to pound on the dashboard or wiggle the key around the ignition. If the radio wasn’t working, I knew my turning signals also weren’t working (much more concerning).

At some point it developed the ability to release the key without the key being in the proper position, so I had to be extra careful that I didn’t wind the key back too far so that the radio was running before I took the keys out. 

These next bits weren’t the car’s fault, but were still annoying to deal with. I broke my passenger side mirror on the world’s skinniest tree and it just sort of flopped for a while. Then, I dented the shit out of my passenger front corner panel when I sunk my tire into a pothole/storm drain combo. The panel was bent so badly you couldn’t open the door enough to let a person in or out. A coworker’s mechanically-savvy friend, a little bit of money, and a trip to the junkyard afforded me a replacement mirror and a new, non-matching quarter panel. I could have cared less about the look, but now I had a giant clashing square of burgundy on my purple car, more or less telling everyone around me “I LIKE TO HIT THINGS”.

Now mind you, I haven’t even gotten into the mechanical problems that grounded her for a while; she’s needed several surgeries, including her starter, her water pump, her fuel pump...I really can’t remember everything. It’s never been a huge, expensive fix, but it’s always been something very time consuming.

Oh, here’s a fun side-note about Chryslers; well, at least this one. I will NEVER buy another one so I can’t continue my research on this, but it seems Chrysler at least at some point was a malicious company that wanted to make sure the everyman had zero ability to work on their vehicles and would have to take them to the dealer for any sort of maintenance or repair. EVERYTHING is in a weird and inconvenient location inside this car. The goddamn battery was right above one of my wheel wells--I couldn’t even get my battery replaced at an auto-parts store like Auto Zone or O’Reily’s because THE DAMN CAR HAS TO GO ON A LIFT TO GET THE BATTERY OUT.

On Wednesday, January 10th, I was driving the 2-3 miles home from work, cutting through an apartment complex’s connecting road, and my RPMs dropped to zero. My power steering went out. I pulled my car into the parking lot, shut her off, and she wouldn’t crank. It just kept turning and turning and turning and turning, but would never spark.

Thank all the gods for AAA. I got her towed home. My boyfriend tried what little he could with the limited time he’s had: check battery, change fuses, things of that nature. But he’s been working a lot, and it’s been so fucking cold, he hasn’t really had the time to fiddle with her.

So for 10 days I’ve been getting rides to the bare necessity of places: work, home, and one doctor’s appointment (s/o to my best friend for making sure I got to where I needed to be). 

Friday, January 19, I left my boyfriend parked outside my work while I did my once-over before locking the place up. My manager was out of town and I was left in charge, so I was very meticulously making sure I had shut down and locked everything. Needless to say, he had to wait on me a good 15 minutes while I got my ducks in a row.

And wouldn’t you know, that wonderful man got on craigslist (after YEARS, mind you, of leaving me to be the one to do the searches while he provided second opinions) and lined up a test-drive with a private party, and the location was a place I drove by every day on my way to and from work. 

And guys? GUYS?!

She’s a 2009 Toyota Corolla and her name is Rebecca after Lori Petty’s character in Tank Girl, and I love her so much.

tldr: I’ve been driving a shitty car for 6 years, searching for an upgrade for 5 of those years, and yesterday I FINALLY bought another car. I had a 1998 Chrysler Sebring, it died, and I found a 2009 Toyota Corolla. 

And I really just can’t put into words how much weight has been lifted off of me. I’ve been terrified of my car for years. I’ve been searching, and struggling, and I’ve met up with at least a dozen people to test drive their cars and always left disappointed. And finally, finally, I’m free.

[welazydreamcollectionblr-blog]

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