#tumbler scam maybe?

[ajm1218]

Okay, I've had FOUR DIFFERENT ACCOUNTS come to beg for money from me via my Inbox. Has this been happening to other people too? Like why ME of all people? I can barely afford my own rent, let alone lend money to someone else missing theirs...

[metalgirlrising]

The Era of go fund me scammers on tumbler was honestly so funny to me and it was like... half funny as in actually funny and half funny as in...sad. lol

Like the one we can date back was the dashcon Era of tumblr and how so many people where scammed out of that whole event. There was also of course the Mrs officer and Mr truffles whatever the fuck it was called scam. Oh there was also the all or nothing show go fund me and God how can we forget the queer gals for the straight pals? (It's gueer eye but lesbians basically) scam.

And like maybe it is harsh to label these as scams because the ppl who started these go fund mes "had" good intentions but people where still robbed of their money and that what makes it sad...

But what makes it actually funny was remembering being on Tumblr for each and every one of these shit being passed and reblogged around and the amount of people who shat on anyone who in any way had a seed of doubt about these wholesome projects where sent death threats, hate, and was constantly been told to anyone who doubted that they where just "bitter and jealous" for not thinking of these incredible ideas sooner and each and every time these go fund mes fell flat and again and again ppls money was taken with nothing in return.

It was quite a funny time.

[libermachinae]

Night Shift

Also on AO3! Summary: Prowl and Jetfire analyze leads on a Decepticon smuggling operation, working together late into the night trying to find the missing connections. A sleep deprived slip of the tongue leads Prowl to revisiting old choices. Word Count: 2146

---

Prowl didn’t keep track of his chronometer this late in the night. Morning was inevitable, and he knew he could rely on a burst of messages from Orion to let him know when it had arrived. As such, he had no idea what hour it was when Jetfire broke through the productive silence.

“How did you come up with these predictions?” Jetfire asked. Worst of all, he was speaking with his mouth full, apparently too incensed by Prowl’s logic train to be bothered with common decency. “Every gun you’ve pulled in has been running on fumes; I’ve had to scrape the insides of the barrels just to figure out what they’re fueled on.”

The impressive thing about Jetfire was that even as a voice over the comms, he sounded like the biggest bot in the room. It wasn’t just that his voice was deep; Orion, who wasn’t that much taller than Prowl, had a voice you could feel through the floor panels. It was something about the way Jetfire talked, deliberate and straightforward, rarely stuttering even when caught off-guard. It was refreshing.

“I’ve outlined the logic process in my report. I won’t be repeating it,” Prowl said, scrolling back through his files.

“What are they teaching in the enforcer academy that reports don’t need to communicate anything?” Jetfire grumbled

It would be a reasonable estimate to say they spent 50% of these near nightly calls complaining about their targets, their coworkers, and the administration, and another 40% about each other. Prowl sat through them strictly as a matter of convenience, being a faster mode of communication than the intermittent data bursts preferred by the sanctioned enforcer agencies.

Having someone at the other end of the line also assisted the rust sticks and nucleon microcubes in staving off recharge protocols.

“It’s as I explained to Tumbler: it communicates everything I intended it to.” Ideally, very little to anyone who couldn’t have worked it out themselves. That way, the important information stayed with those who could actually use it, and the rest—

“Who’s Tumbler?”

Prowl lost his train of thought as the rest of his processor caught up to what the .5% he reserved for conversation had said. He froze, rust stick halfway to his mouth.

“No one,” he said.

“Okay.” Jetfire drew out the word. “Did he buy that line?”

No, of course not. Tumbler was always relentless about that sort of thing. His curiosity and drive could have lent to the makings of a detective or captain if he’d dedicated them more often to investigations and less on critiquing Prowl.

“He was young and failed to grasp the necessity of efficiency in our line of work.” Prowl had tried to be patient, but he’d been young too, and Tumbler was the first partner he’d had who would listen to him. Even if it was just to argue that Prowl’s opaque writing was the cause of their inefficiency.

“Hmph.”

Jetfire liked to intersperse their conversations with meaningless noises, and although Prowl needed more samples before he was certain of his explanation, he believed they meant Jetfire didn’t agree with something he’d said but was ending the discussion prematurely. It was illogical, leaving a matter unsettled for which a solution existed, but normally Prowl’s priority queues were ordered such that work came before ideological disagreements.

“What?” he asked, finally setting down the rust stick.

“You’re normally terrible with names,” Jetfire said without hesitation. “I’m just trying to imagine what a bot would have to be like to leave that much of an impression on you.”

“He was talented,” Prowl admitted.

“Do you keep in touch?”

“No.” Prowl straightened his back and flared his sensory panels, ready to move on. “It was not a practical partnership. Being together diminished our respective abilities and prevented us from fulfilling our responsibilities. It was for the betterment—”

“Hey, hold on, Prowl,” Jetfire said, his rolling voice enough to draw Prowl up short. “I know that you—but, you know what that sounds like, right?”

Prowl frowned, immediately recognizing Jetfire’s social theory tone.

“Pragmatism,” he said. “We can’t have everything we want in an ordered society. I—we did what Cybertron needed of us.”

“By disposing of a part of yourself?”

Tumbler hadn’t liked that explanation either.

“We weren’t conjunx.” And for very good reason. There were more important things in life than feelings or fleeting commitments, and it was idealists like Jetfire who—

“Just because it didn’t have a name doesn’t mean it wasn’t important.”

Prowl’s thoughts stumbled. He hadn’t expected Jetfire to say that, not because it was out of character but because he was right. That was the exact sentiment Prowl had tried to put to words maybe half a dozen times and now it was being turned on him like a spotlight.

“There are things that should never be sacrificed,” Jetfire went on. Prowl felt his silhouette thrown into sharp relief. “Things we’re worse off for letting go of.” He paused. “A while ago, I was made an offer: instant entry to the academies. No exams, no fees. Everything I’d ever wanted. In return, though, I would’ve had to give up my wings. My… sponsor, I guess, knew I had the processor for science, just not the frame. They asked for me to give up one part of myself to let the rest go free.”

Prowl shook his helm, leaning away from the speaker. Jetfire’s tone was the same one he occasionally used with Bumblebee. With Prowl, he was hard edges and warning lights. They weren’t this for each other. They didn’t do this.

“You were nearly the victim of a scam,” he said, searching blindly for familiar ground.

“I’m sure it seems that way,” Jetfire said, unperturbed. “Do you get it, though? Giving up any one piece would’ve meant tacit agreement with the Functionists, that I wasn’t fit to do my work in any form but what they prescribed. Even if I’d told myself it was for Cybertron, it really would’ve been a sacrifice in their honor, and nothing would ever be worth that.”

Prowl wasn’t entirely obtuse. He understood what Jetfire was saying, but he couldn’t afford to hear it, not with everything he had already done and the plans he had yet to set in motion. Maybe Jetfire had found a way to live that allowed him to maintain his idealistic commitments, but most mechanisms weren’t so lucky. Everyone had to give up something.

“And now you’re here, working on behalf of the Senate,” Prowl said, just to prove that point.

Jetfire made his noise again.

“Right, I forgot,” he said. Annoyed or frustrated: the usual feelings they brought out in each other. “Waste of time. Forget I said anything.”

Prowl wouldn’t, but he also wasn’t going to give Jetfire an excuse to keep pontificating.

It would have been a waste of their time, anyhow, because however sincere Jetfire was in his admission, Prowl had never understood the hypocrisy of bots who would claim to reject Functionism while maintaining an almost fanatical devotion to their frames. In some intangible sense, maybe he did enjoy the opportunity to go for a long drive, but he couldn’t imagine himself grieving his tires for their own sake. He tried to compare it to what he had felt when Tumbler had said going to Kaon was a selfish, pretentious idea and immediately recoiled.

“Results are exactly what I told you,” Jetfire said. Prowl realized he hadn’t gotten any work done in the last several kliks. “Not nearly the concentration of materials to support your theory the Decepticons have contacts in Uraya, and a few that will probably trace back to Kaon, like everything else.”

“I’d like to see for myself,” Prowl said, standing. He didn’t often get this badly distracted, and it was easy to pin it on the state of his desk: used energon cubes and wrappers from the cheap snacks he kept fueled on littered the spaces he should have been using for case notes and displays. When was the last time he’d cleaned?

“Really?” Jetfire asked. “The data’s pretty clear.”

“Humor me.”

“What do you think I’ve been doing?”

Neither said goodbye before they hung up: another of their customs.

Prowl cleared the mess into the trash. Exhaustion was nibbling at his processor like a corrosive. Another couple shots would get him through his morning meetings, and then a regular midday fueling would carry him over until he could recharge properly in the evening. Before that, though, the day had to begin, an event he discovered was closer than he’d expected when he stepped outside and saw the horizon just tilting toward the pale blue of an oncoming dawn.

The air was gentle, the pleasant cool that foreshadowed a blistering day. Jetfire was a dot over the Rodion skyline. Prowl glanced up at the few stars that could punch through the light pollution and was reminded, suddenly, of the time he and Tumbler had discussed getting a little patch of metal out on the Tungsten Moors. The barren sparkfields had felt nonetheless fertile with possibilities, and they had gotten hung up on whether it would be more practical to live in a house with two stories or just one. It had been a fantasy, nothing more; even on their joint income, it would have taken millions of years to save up. But there had been something, if not fulfilling, thrilling about it, making plans that didn’t hinge on work or promotions.

He wondered if Tumbler remembered that conversation.

Jetfire’s slow approach gave Prowl time to dwell while keeping an idle optic on his teammate. There was nothing spectacular about Jetfire’s flying: Prowl had worked with and chased down fliers who were faster, more maneuverable, and flashier in every way. But there was something resolute and sure about the way Jetfire coasted, a steadiness that Prowl would have appreciated sooner if he’d noticed it, his thoughts of Tumbler and past mistakes and pointless sacrifice sliding away as he watched Jetfire’s flight.

Jetfire’s flying was beautiful, in its own way. Its understatement reminded Prowl of his own assembly line colors, but with an underlying confidence that left Prowl feeling inadequate. Though technically strong, his power was limited to what he could siphon off Orion and their other high-level contacts. He’d experienced a taste of the real thing under Sentinel, but that had been an especially tenuous connection, liable to snap had he ever tugged too hard. Jetfire’s power was all his own. Not overwhelming, not enough to make the changes Cybertron needed. Incomparable, really, to what Prowl had wielded. But it radiated from the tips of his wings to the burn of his thrusters, self-realized, without reservation or concession.

Prowl’s tac net pinged him with the results for a problem he hadn’t realized he’d plugged in: 50% Prowl should have been strong enough to find another way, 50% choosing Tumbler would have made him stronger.

A perfect 50-50 meant his systems were badly in need of defrag. He cleared the cache and set his tac net to reboot, shaking his helm to dispel the resulting vertigo as Jetfire landed on the steps below him. Prowl waited patiently for him to complete his mode switch, taking two steps back so they would be at optic level with each other.

“Pleasant flight?” he asked.

“Wouldn’t trade it for anything,” Jetfire said with a smugness that allowed Prowl to scoff as he motioned for the datapad.

Jetfire handed it over. Prowl knew he was being watched as he powered it on and reviewed its contents, but he took his time, using Jetfire’s results to run through a few warm up calculations as his tac net came back online.

“You didn’t check for copper fluoride,” he commented.

“No,” Jetfire said slowly, “because it wasn’t one of the compounds we were investigating.”

“Run the tests again.” Prowl tried to return the datapad, but Jetfire refused to take it. “The chances we would find evidence of materials native to the Urayan region were always slim to none. However, the old blackmarket pipeline between Kaon and Yuss ran directly underneath the city. Does that make more sense?”

Prowl saw the moment Jetfire finally saw the case as he did, a knotted web of deceptions meant to dissuade even the most seasoned detective from untangling its core. Jetfire took the datapad from Prowl and stowed it, though the hard look in his optics did not waver.

“Could’ve said that from the beginning,” Jetfire griped.

Prowl didn’t bother to respond. What was done was done. Talking so much about the past was a waste of time neither of them could afford, because for all that it might have mattered, nothing they said could change any of it. All they had was the future, and the possibility of starting each day stronger than they had the one before.

[pompousbiscuit]

`

Random modern au Zeke Yeager headcanons:

(he's also in a committed and long term relationship w/ u <3)

(based on my own thoughts and dreams about my fave monke man)

This motherfucker has you and him living in BROOKLYN, DON'T FUCKIN LIE TO YOURSELF!!!

Bushwick man right here, face of gentrification itself, just more rude than the average person living the same exact life...

Zeke is a fucking vegetarian, for the environment, don't even get me started...

Sure doesn't seem like it, but he keeps up with climate change for sure

You'll find him going off about how we wouldn't be, "drowning in actual hellfire if Gore wasn't jipped of the election by that over grown fratboy", when he's drunk

Was involved in getting a proper recycling, and composting, situation going on when he was in University

REUSABLE. YETI. STEEL. TUMBLER. (he will actually roast you, or anyone (mostly Eren), SO HARD if you bring a disposable cup anywhere near him)

He "coincidentally" "finds" "completely random" sustainable shops after taking you out on a "completely spontaneous" date in a new location

Which has you forcing him to make you dinner after you get back, and doing the dishes for the rest of the week....

But you still give him a s m o o c h ~<3 because even though it was all a ploy, so he could get his fingies on some shit-ass-100%-organic-cotton -eucalyptus-whatever-compostable bedsheets, it was still a very sweet date at a cute desert bar/cool sandwich place

Post dinner, where he cooked up some absolutely 🔥F I R E🔥 stir fry, you're chilling in the living room area with some simple mixed drink (just a "splash" or shot of alcohol)

Ofc you already know I'm saying he was a bartender as a side hustle, worked at a liquor store in college then moved his way up!

No longer bartends, so now he just criticizes other bartenders and makes you drinks to show that he's still got it....

Just hanging out and reading together like an old married couple... Except he thinks marriage is a scam so, sorry bud, you ain't ever getting a ring on your finger.

Maybe if you threaten, like legitimately threaten, to leave him he'd give in...

But Zeke doesn't see any other option besides being with you, (he wouldn't say that to your face, so don't even) and he kinda thinks it's more intimate and romantic to not feel the need for that type of label.

You start at different locations, him on the couch and you in a chair, but you eventually end up with your legs splayed across his lap, both silently reading with a basic-as-fuck classical music playlist on.

He doesn't actually like classical music, but he does believe that one thing he heard about it making you more focused, so you let him put it on for reading...

When winding down for the night, Zeke has the spare room to himself. You both tried to make it into an office type space, but besides the computer and desk, it's more like Zeke's storage for all his vinyls, cassettes, and cds...

So guess what he's doing? Go on, guess! Heathen just bought a new King Gizzard album, and ofc he's listening to it on his special little record player with his special little headphones uWu ~* (high fidelity looking ass)

While you do your own thing in the bedroom, I don't choose for you! Except when I do... :)))

Bed time be all like: Zeke tries to smoke on the fire escape/out the window in his jammies (boxers/basic plaid pj pants with an old t-shirt/shirtless)

New York Zeke is an American Spirit blues man for surzies...

He gets an eye roll from a neutral you

A scolding to go down stairs and outside from a mad you

A slap on the shoulder with a: "At least offer me one if you're gonna do it right in front of me!" from a smokes positive you

After a smoke, brushing teeth, turning off the light, glasses on the nightstand, getting under the covers, he basically rolls on top of you for a minute.

Wraps his arms around your form and drags you as close as he can to his chest, and gives you one of those unnecessarily tight hugs that makes you wheeze the air out of your lungs.

Nuzzles his face into the space between your neck and shoulder, and you squirm with the tickle and scratching of his beard, while he heaves a breath and sighs...

You sigh, faking annoyance, but in actuality you're pleased with his affection. You snake your arms the best you can around him, a little difficult with him weighing you down, and hug him back with your palms resting flat on his shoulder blades.

He gives you a lingering kiss on your neck, a smoochy smooch on your cheek, and an extra firm kiss on your lips. He pulls away and shoots you proud grin, pleased with the look in your eyes that you're trying so oh-so-hard to cover up with displeasure, and gives you a soft spoken "Goodnight (y/n)".

Zeke pushes himself off of you, situating himself with his back towards you, tucking his arm underneath his pillow.

You stare at his back, debating to give in to his obvious ploy. You're perfectly aware he purposely faced the other way so you'd paw at his back and side, groaning in annoyance while asking for him to wrap his arm around you.

You can already predict some snide comment about how "incredibly clingy" you are while he rolls over, with a groan too old sounding for a 30 year old, to face you.

"Really now? So does this mean I'm forgiven for this afternoons, completely unplanned, turn of events? Do I get an apology for that one hell of a scolding you gave me earlier? If I wanted to get treated like a toddler, I'd go to my Father's house and listen to Carla nag me about whatever's up her ass that day..." He gives a grimace while saying the last sentence, a trigger reaction whenever he finds himself thinking of the dark haired woman, then gives you an eyebrow raise while waiting for your response.

You give him a playful-angry pout, crease between your brows and lips quirked to the side, staring him down.

With an eye roll and a kiss of his teeth, he tells you to "...turn around", while trying to suppress a yawn.

You smile to yourself once you're turned around facing the windows of your bedroom, humming quietly while Zeke's arm rests over your waist.

You wish him a goodnight of your own, which he responds to with a "Yeah yeah, don't say I never do anything for ya'...", which you respond back to with a pinch on his arm.

He accepts it with a yelp, and bids you goodnight once again, both of you drifting off to sleep with only the sounds of the sleepless streets to lull you to sleep.

It's not a completely peaceful one, as Zeke has a habit of rising at 3 am every night to go piss, chug a quick glass of water from the kitchen, and then sit on the couch to browse his emails for a few minutes.

He eventually returns to his position of being the big spoon he was always meant to be, shuffling under the covers and slinging his arm over your side. He's a little more heavy handed with how he cradles your side now, because of his tired limbs, and half functioning brain.

You lean into him unconsciously, your body sensing the shifting of the mattress and radiating warmth behind you, both of you returning to a heavy slumber.

Not for long though, as a crash and scuffle outside your window startles the two of you awake around 4 am.

A totalled car being towed, and the loud profanities of people in an argument caused by the former, are the sounds that accompany you and Zeke's coffee and oatmeal.

An unexpected, yet equally expected, earlier-than-usual start to your Sunday morning...

Let me know if anyone has any thoughts... I basically made Zeke a pretentious hipster fuck, but let's be honest, that's exactly who he is.... This is my first crack at something like this btw, and I kinda fell into it...

[ I was making a post about how: "ugh! I need some Zeke headcannons!!"

Obviously that turned into: "I'll stop being a lazy ass and do it myself..." -_-; ]

Once again, I am Zeke Trash #1, and you're watching disney channel. :P

yo uh, here's a fun little thing over here, zeke playlist dawg, check it: MONKE

[theunfocusedbrat]

HELLO TUMBLER PEOPLE!!!

I know we all see a lot of these requests daily and there are a lot of people to help out there.

But today i make a humble request of you for help.

A few weeks ago i did an audition for a roll in a series of short films and I GOT IT.

So yeah I’m excited as heck about it. Except for one small problem. Getting the roll is only the first obstacle. The second is paying for the acting camp the company runs before hand. (Not a scam it happens every year and it’s got a lot of well know people taking part. To set the scene imagine if the audition judges where mcdreamy mcsteamy and george omally from greys anatomy. Yeah exactly.)

I’ve lived with my grandparents since i was two and they both lost their jobs during and before covid so I really need help here please.

So please help me by donating 1 ONE Dollar. Just one. Maybe 2 or 5 if you feel generous.

And also by REBLOGGING.

PLEASE YALL IM BEGGING.

Here is my crowdfunding account.

Please support this mentality ill gay teenager achieve her dreams.

https://www.airfunding.net/project/640783?hl=en&utm_source=copied_url&utm_medium=social&utm_campaign=project_first_shares&utm_content=project_id_640783

[smol-and-grumpy]

What We Had Was Real

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Reader

Summary: Dean asks himself what he’s fighting for. It seems like he’s losing the battle and he wonders what in his life was real and what wasn’t.

Warnings: Angst, just a tad, a little fluff maybe too.

WC: 1614

A/N: I don’t know if it’s any good because I’m not really familiar with the angst thing but I had this stuck in my head and I wanted to put it down somehow.

Dean takes a sip from his tumbler, the tips of his fingers turning white from his tight grip on it. He lets the alcohol warm his throat before he leans his head back to rest against the wall and closes his eyes with a sigh. 

The floor of his bedroom is cold underneath him. The air is thick, it makes it harder for him to breathe, at least it feels like it.

He bends one knee and takes the phone that’s been lying shattered on the floor next to him, thumbs at the home button, sees it springing to life, even with the spiderwebs all over the screen.

His whole body is shaking and he’s holding to the glass and the phone like his life depends on it.

Dean thumbs over the contacts, tapping his thumb on a familiar name.

It rings.

Once.

Twice.

Three times.

He’s about to hang up, think it’s a mistake and she’ll probably already asleep. How could she not, it’s already late.

“Hello,”

Her voice is groggy from sleep. Dean feels something warm spreading in his chest.

He clears his throat, his mouth opens and closes as he tries to bring something past his lips. 

Anything. 

“Hi,” He says at last, squints his eyes close.

“Dean? It’s something wrong?”

He can hear panic in her voice, shuffling of a blanket in the back, and he pictures her sitting up in her bed. The bed he spent many nights in, the one that feels comfortable and warm, especially when she’s in it.

“‘M shakin’. I...” He exhales and swallows another mouthful of brown liquid. “.. Sorry I woke you up. I had to call you to calm myself down.”

“Dean, why are you shaking?”

“‘M mad,” He grips the phone tighter.

“Why are you mad?”

“Angry too. At everything. God.... Especially at God.”

“Dean, are you drunk?”

He chuckles. “No, ‘m not. Far from it.”

“You’re mad and angry? Why?”

“Long story,” He pauses, thinks about what to tell her, settles on, “I feel like we’ve been played. Everything is slipping out of my grip. I am losing control. Everything I thought was real turned out to be a scam,” He can feel the tears sting at the back of his eyes, making their way to the front and he sniffs before taking another burning sip. “But we were real, weren’t we? You and me, it was real.”

“Dean,”

“I’m sorry.”

“For what?”

“Leaving.”

“Dean, are you crying?”

He doesn’t answer instantly, not before swallowing down the tears. “Nah,”

“It’s okay to cry, you know? You remember when I was mad and angry for whatever reason? I cried, too. It’s okay to cry. You have to let it out.”

“Yeah, I know,” He says, sets down his glass and brushes away at his cheeks. “Saw you the other day when I drove by your favorite coffee shop while I was in town, I’m not anymore though, otherwise I would have come to see you, rather than calling you,” He takes the glass back, empties the content in one go, squints and welcomes the burn. “You looked great.”

“You could have stopped and said hi,”

“You were with someone, I didn’t want to intrude,”

“Oh,”

“Does he make you happy? I hope he does, you deserve nothing but happiness.”

“So do you, Dean. But no, it’s not like that. I don’t really have to explain it, because I feel that it’s none of your business but I feel that you need to know in order to help calm down whatever’s brewing inside you. He’s interested in Mark from Accounting, so I don’t think that he will ever make me happy.”

Dean lets out an exhale, feels like he’s been holding his breathing since she started talking, is relieved that it’s not what he thinks it was.

And then it bursts out of him, loud, sharp, his throat rumbles at the laughter and he shakes his head, thinks he’s a goddamn idiot.

“I’m sorry,”

“Dean, you’re scaring me. Why are you calling me? You’ve never called. I haven’t heard from you since --”

Her voice falters and she doesn’t even have to say it because Dean knows the end to the sentence. Since the day he walked out on her. Ran away from what they had because he thought that it’s better that way. 

“Don’t want you to worry. I just wanted to hear your voice. You could always calm me down.”

“Do you know who you’re talking to? Of course I’m worried! Did you hurt yourself, Dean? What’s on your mind?”

“Miss you, is all.” He smiles, because it’s true.

“Dean…”

He hears her voice tremble, knows that she’s probably crying, wants to actually be there to comfort her. Maybe they could comfort each other.

“‘M sorry I was a fool. Should never have walked out from the only real thing I believed I had. It was real. The laughter, the sweats, the tears, the cuddles, the kisses, its was real, right?”

“Of course it was real, Dean. You’re still scaring me, what is wrong?”

“That’s what it was. The only good thing and I managed to screw it up because I thought that I have to play the hero and save the goddamn world.”

“You did save the world, Dean.”

“No, I didn’t,” He closes his eyes, because the tears won’t stop running down his cheeks. “I thought I did but we didn’t. It’s over, baby. Everything we worked for, every hope and dream I had, every chance of maybe go back to you and have a reasonably normal life, where I can get on your nerves and you can get on mine and we laugh about how stupid we both are --”

“What do you mean? Dean, you’re not going to do anything stupid now, do you?” 

“I’m not doing anything to myself, don’t worry about that.”

“I’m still worried.”

“I know,”

“Dean,”

“I wish I could turn back time,” He grins at the memories. “What we had…” There’s a tightening in his throat again, something that makes it hard for him to swallow down the tears. “Just want you to know that when I think of you, I feel better. You were the one who could calm me down and cheer me up. The only one who could make me feel at ease even if my life was a fucking tornado.”

“Dean! Fuck. You’re fucking scaring me. Is this some sort of a goodbye call?”

He ignores her because he needs to get things off his chest.

“I know I never said that I loved you,” He goes on. “I think love is such a stupid word. It’s said too often. People throw it around all the time. But what I feel is more than that. Someone has got to find a word for that.” He chuckles nervously.

“...”

“You’re the best thing that happened to me.” He stands up now, and walks over to sit down on his bed. “I’m sorry.”

“Dean, the fuck are you doing?”

“What I always do,” He mutters. “Trying to save the world.”

“Shut up!”

“So bossy!” He mumbles with a grin.

“I mean it. Listen here mister, you’re going to be fine, alright? You are the most selfless, caring and sweetest man I know. You made me happy, Dean. That should count as something, no?”

“You should add funny to the list.”

“Don’t push it, Dean,” There’s a laugh on the other side and he thinks that he’s missed that the most. “What I wanna say is, that you’re one of the good ones, you know? One that I would have kept.”

“I should have kept you, too.”

“I keep you in my heart, though.”

“You’re in mine. Every fucking morning, you know, I ask myself how you’re doing. If you’re happy.”

“I am. Not as happy as when I was with you, but I am.” 

“Good,” He is relieved but it saddens him nonetheless. “Good.”

“Are you?”

“What?”

“Happy?”

“N-no. ‘M not. But now I am. I just wanted to know if you’re happy.”

“Fuck, Dean, what does that mean?”

“I can’t tell you and I really need to go now, promised Sam that I’d help him with something,” It’s not entirely a lie. They need to go face the inevitable. 

“Okay.”

“Just know that I love you, alright? I miss you every day.”

She chuckles. “You said the L-word.”

“Yeah, well, because nobody did find a more suitable word for it in the time I’ve been talking to you.”

“I love you too, Dean. More than you know. I wish I you wouldn’t do anything stupid but knowing you, I know that you will. Whatever it is, take care alright? Maybe come back in one piece and stop by, even if it’s late.”

“I try.” 

“Try harder.”

“Jesus, I miss your sass.”

“And I miss your cockiness.”

“Fuck, baby, I really fucking love you. Be good, alright?”

“Dean?”

“Yeah?”

“Whatever you want to do, how about… I don’t know… you don’t?”

“I can’t go back now.”

“Thought so. Can’t blame me for trying to stop you, though.”

He grins, “Thanks for everything. I thought I just call to say goodbye but now I feel like you gave me something to keep on fighting.”

“I’m glad I could help.”

“Alright, I need to go, I’ll see you on the other side, sweetheart.”

Dean hangs up, not waiting for her to answer, because he knows that if he did, it would be harder for him to walk out of that damn door and face whatever God throws at him. He tosses the phone onto his bed before he stands up and walks out the door.

[ghost-chance]

I’ve got another bit of helpful info for y’all today. If you’ve been targeted by a scammer, received an extortion email, or found yourself on the business end of a ransomware virus, you may be ordered to deliver funds to a Bitcoin address. Did you know you can investigate suspicious Bitcoin addresses and report addresses connected to scams, viruses, blackmail, and fraud, and for free?

Yep. You can investigate and report Bitcoin accounts connected to illegal activities for free.

Here’s my story. (Skip if you want, but it’s good for a laugh.)

I needed a password reset, didn’t receive the email, and checked my junk folder. There was no password reset email but there was a letter from a spoofed email address. Apparently the sender got control of my computer’s built-in webcam and recorded me, shall we say, enjoying offensive sites a little too much; I was ordered to send a certain amount of money to a provided Bitcoin address within 48 hours to prevent my respected colleagues from realizing just what a nasty little dirty-bird I am. The horror!

Not. This is exactly why, when I first bought this computer, I covered the webcam and only uncover it long enough to replace the tape. I’m a chronic over-thinker and worrywart, and in instances like this, it’s better to have absolutely no doubt about what may or may not have been seen from my webcam. (In this case, we’re talking awkwardness rather than dirtiness. Like...

eating soup and slurping because I’m alone

spilling crumbs down my shirt and shaking them out of my jugs

plucking the grey in my eyebrows while wearing pore-strips and wearing granny hair curlers and listening to music

snot-nosed flu days of whining to my husband over the phone while scrolling through Tumblr

writing fanfiction half-naked because it’s summer in Missouri and it’s too damn hot for clothes - in which case, I would pity anyone who happened to see that.

Falling asleep on my keyboard and drooling, and maybe worst of all,

my cat’s dirty naked butt flashing the webcam because he demanded attention mid-edits and I refused to comply.

Yep. I live a wild life. It’s hilarious. You know what’s even more hilarious, though? If my webcam was hacked and it was capable of functioning without light, this is what it would see:

...okay, you got me. That’s not exactly what they’d see, but you get the picture. I stuck a pair of smiley-type stickers on the tape before applying it to protect the lens and mic from the stickiness. Last time, it was something else, I think a flower or something; next time the tape wears off, I think I’ll draw up a stylized cat butthole and use that instead. What can I say? I can be a troll when no one will ever know what I’ve done. I have no shame. I think I’m funny and sometimes, that’s what counts.

The problem is, not everyone will have my borderline-paranoid preventative measures, so not everyone will have that kind of security. Fear not! Here’s what you need to do:

Locate, select, and copy the Bitcoin address. Don’t worry about the email address, it’s probably spoofed.

Plug that address into THIS SITE -- https://bitcoinwhoswho.com/ -- and see if it provides any useful information. You should see something like this:

If you’re just checking up on the validity of an account, you should be able to get some idea of that from what’s shown. If you have even more reason to believe the account needs a good spanking - or more likely, the owner tried to scam/blackmail/extort/trick/etc you, proceed to THIS page: https://www.bitcoinabuse.com/ where you should find this report form:

Note that it helpfully supplies you with a dummy address to further illustrate what number you’re looking for. Select from the types of abuse:

Ransomware

Blackmail scam

Sextortion

Darknet Market

Bitcoin tumbler (wow, this site banned titties but it still has its own version of naughtiness! ...just kidding. Tumblr has no e.)

or if none of that fits, select other.

Note that the Abuser and Description fields are mandatory. If the previous site showed an unnamed wallet and the rake never told you his name after your dalliance, you can just put something like “don’t know” or “didn’t say.” Keep in mind, no personally identifying information in the Description box and it has a character limit. (I don’t recall what the limit is; 2k, maybe?)

Lastly,

Prove that you’re human by clicking the little box any well-programmed robotic arm can deceive, and submit your report.

And there you have it - you just reported the troublemaker who threatened to show your hoohah to the world without ever actually seeing it. Congratulations. Now start covering up your webcam when you’re not using it and join the League of Extraordinary Smartasses; we have Sweet-Tarts.

[rmjagonshi]

Prompts, huh? How about some fluffy bonding time with Stan and Dipper? Or Ford and Mabel? Your choice!

Went with Dipper and Stan becasue the Ford and Mabel one came out really angsty. More hurt/comfort than anything. Hope its ok? 

He could feel someoneelse in the room. He didn’t need to see or hear them to know they were there.He didn’t spend ten years on the streets and not develop the skill to read hissurroundings, to feel the shift in the air and know that another living being hadentered the room.

He didn’t do this often.Not anymore; there wasn’t really any need to practice. But with all the mentalenergy he’d been expending lately trying to get the damn portal up and running,he needed to work out his frustrations. The old lather of his boxing glovesstill supple after all this time. The weight of the punching bag comfortingagainst his onslaught.

He paused to breathe, onegloved hand braced against the bag, sweat beading on his skin.

“Grunkle Stan?”

Logically, it had to beone of the twins, but his great nephew’s voice still startled him. He took aquick glance over his shoulder to see the boy standing in the doorway, ablanket wrapped around his body.

“What’s up, kiddo?Shouldn’t you be asleep? Way past yer bedtime.” It wasn’t, not really, with fewresponsibilities during the summer, the kids could go to sleep when they wantedand get up when they wanted. He didn’t care much, let’em have fun.

“I couldn’t sleep.”Which was obvious, but that didn’t explain why the kid had come to talk to himrather than just bug his sister like he usually would.

The boy entered hisroom, the blanket dragging along the floor behind him, to sit on Stan’s bed.Stan waited a few moments, but when Dipper didn’t speak, he turned back to thebag and continued smacking away to the bag. He used to be really good atgetting into his opponent’s blind spots, taking a pummeling until he saw anopening and taking the win by a knockout. He footwork needed help though; thirtyyears of sedentary life was killer.

He punched hard at thebag and let his swing away and then back at him. He blocked and aimed left,right where his opponent’s blind spot would be.

“Can you teach me?” Stan’sleft hand slid across the surface of the bag, knocking it sideways and into hisface. He used his body weight to still the bag and rubbed at his nose, blinkingat the boy kneeling on the mattress, watching him. He couldn’t see the kidclearly, his glasses sitting on the nightstand.

“Hang on, kid, can’t hearya without my glasses.” He took the few steps over to retrieve them, ignoringDipper’s confused question as to why Stan needed glasses to hear.

With his sightclear-ish, Stan sat down on the bed next to the boy. “Now, what was that?” Dipperlooked less willing to make his request than he had moments ago. He wrapped theblanket tight around him and stared at the rug. Stan sighed, so he was gonnahave to pull it out of the kid, huh? Fine.

“What’s eatin’ at ya? Yawouldn’t be here otherwise.” Dipper just worried his lip in response. Stangently laid a hand on the boy’s shoulder and squeezed. “Can’t help if ya don’t openup, kid.”

Dipper opened and closedhis mouth several times before he could choke out a response.

“Would you teach me howto box? Not, not like attacking or anything, but, just…like how to block or something.”

“Someone bullying you?”

“What? No, not…not here.”Dipper paused and curled himself up more before continuing. “There’s, this kid,back home, that won’t leave me alone. I get into fights all the time with himand nothing I say or do will make him stop. It’s part of the reason Mom and Dadsent us here. So, Mable and I could have one summer where I’m not coming homewith bruises.”

Stan hummed in thought,listening to Dipper recount his tale. He nodded, understanding exactly what thekid was going through. He and his brother had been bullied a lot when they wereyounger. But while he had had years upon decades to get over his bully, Dipper wasstill facing the mental scars of his. Maybe…  

“Maybe he likes ya?”Stan knew it wasn’t that, but Dipper’s sputtering and barely contained laughtertold him that it was the right question. Pull the kid out of his moping.

“What?! EWW! GrunkleStan! He’s a jerk! Even if I was interested, he’s just…a big poophead!” Stanchuckled at the kid’s choice of insult. It was one he used when he was youngtoo.

“Alright, well, I guessI can show ya somthin’”  

They spent the next hourworking on Dipper’s stance. Stan taught Dipper how to keep his balance, how toblock, and how to divert the momentum of a punch. Stan stood behind the bag andswung it at Dipper a few times so the boy could learn to sidestep a punch andaim for a weak point. He didn’t have any gloves that would fit Dipper’s smallhands, so he’d wrapped them as best he could with tape to give the by somepadding. He showed Dipper how to hold his wrists stable, and where to put theforce so that he wouldn’t break or sprain anything. The boy didn’t have muchstrength – Stan had been trying to work on that with all the chores he hadDipper do – but the kid was fast and agile. Like Stanford, a LOT like Stanford.Hmmmm.

“What does this kid do,anyway? Just mess ya up or what?” Stan was holding the bag as Dipper triedagain to punch with full force and keep his wrist straight.

“Yeah, kinda. He used totease me about my birthmark, then, when I got interested in ghosts andcryptids, he glued hair to my face and called me littlefoot.”

Stan snorted, not bad,but still not refined enough. Not as refined as the stunts he and Stanfordpulled when they were young.

“You know what he’sinto?” Dipper tried again to hit the bag with full strength; it hardly moved.

“What do you mean? Ow.”Dipper sipped too far in the last punch and bent his wrist back.

“Like, I dunno, does heride a bike, have a hobby, or like some girl?” He was treading on dangerous territoryhere, he had to be careful. Small things were ok, but Dipper was still youngand not nearly as tough as he was; kid was not going to handle being broughthome by the cops well.

“He’s got a skateboardhe keeps in his locker. But I don’t understand how that means anything.” Dippermassaged his wrist as Stan knelt down and gripped him by the shoulder.

“Here’s the deal, kid.And you didn’t hear this from me, got it?” Dipper nodded. “I can teach ya howto pop a locker, those are stupid easy. Com locks, at least the cheap ones, youcan hear when the tumblers lock. You pop that locker in-between classes andleave it open. If he’s as much of a jerk as you say, I guarantee others will bewanting to get back at him. Let someone else take the board. Serve him right.”

Dipper’s jaw dropped. Hestared into Stan’s eyes like he couldn’t believe what he had heard. He blinkeda few times and closed his mouth, ready to retort something, but nothing came.  

“Hey, I’m a world classscam artist. What kind of advice didja think you were gonna get?” Stan beganunwrapping Dipper’s hands, wadding the tape up and shoving it in his pocket. Hestood and threw an extra towel at Dipper, the terry cloth hitting the thirteen-year-oldin the face. Dipper sputtered, glaring at Stan as he wiped off his brow andneck.

“Get to bed, kid. It’sgoin’ on one in the mornin’. And yer sister is gonna be runnin’ circles ‘roundyou ‘cause she got a full night’s sleep.”

Dipper turned to leave,towel and blanket wadded up under his arm. He paused at the door and turned backas Stan was putting his tape and gloves away.

“Grunkle Stan?”

“Yeah?”

“Thanks.” Stan heard thekid make his way across the hall and up the stairs to the attic room. Darnkids. If they kept this up, he was gonna have a hard time letting them go backhome. Maybe he’d call up Dan and ask if the kids could come up for springbreak. Or maybe he’d actually close the shack down for the holidays and headdown to California himself.

Stan pushed the glovesin the drawer aside and thumbed at the old photo of him and Stanford standingin the boxing ring laughing it up like they had all the time in the world. Itwas so nice to have a family again. But he couldn’t grow complacent. He hadonly just finished repairing the cable connections downstairs. He had to keepgoing.

“I’m gonna get you back,Ford. And when I do, we’re gonna be a family again. They’ll love you, I knowit.”

[teacupcreations]

Merry Fucking Christmas

TITLE OF STORY: Merry Fucking Christmas CHAPTER NUMBER/TITLE/ONE SHOT: One Shot AUTHOR: teacuphiddlesfics WHICH TOM/CHARACTER: Twin AU - Jag!Tom & Exec!Tom GENRE: Angst/Drama FIC SUMMARY: William receives an unexpected Christmas present on Christmas Eve. RATING: T WARNINGS: Some explicit language AUTHOR NOTE: Merry Christmas Eve everyone! And a very Merry Christmas from our favourite twins. This one shot takes place before the first fic, What’s Yours is Mine. Check out the entire twins universe here here. 

“Merry fucking Christmas to me,” William muttered, knocking back the tumbler of whiskey - his second of the evening.

He eyed the bare office, not a sign in sight that it was the night before Christmas. The small tree that had been on his secretary’s desk was gone, packed up in the box that had been whisked away earlier that week. It was the third in so many months that he had let go. William didn’t know why he kept bothering HR to find a new assistant. The company was due to go under. A year tops. Maybe he could stretch it to two. But he didn’t have high hopes.

William shoved back away from his desk before he could reach for the bottle a third time and whipped the glasses from his face. Rubbing the bridge of his nose, he stood and looked out the windows. Bright, colourful lights filled the city below him. Families were rushing around, making their way home to spend the holidays with loved ones. He scowled at the thought. Holidays hadn’t meant anything to him. Not in years. Not since -

“Fuck that.” William turned back to his desk and poured himself another glass. This was how he celebrated now.

“Excuse me?” A gentle, timid knock came from his office door. “Mr. Hiddleston?”

William sighed as he looked over to the floor’s receptionist. “Yes, Louise?”

She looked uncertain as she opened the door and stepped over the threshold. “A package came for you.”

William raised an eyebrow. “That’s fine, thank you, Louise. You can take off. Spend the evening with your family.”

She offered a smile before setting the package in her hands, wrapped in loud christmas themed paper. William stared at the box until the the receptionist left, and even then, he remained staring at the package. He hadn’t purchased anything. He wouldn’t. Not when he was close to paying the salaries of his employees from his own pocket. His mother still held the tradition of presents wrapped under the tree. Even with her health, he would still find his way to his childhood home to spend Christmas day with her. His father, well, he was more concerned with scamming another poker table than knowing what time of the year it was.

And his brother…

Who the hell knew what his brother was up to.

Narrowing his eyes, William hesitantly picked up the package, weighing it his hands before picking at the wrapping paper. It was rectangular, reminding him of a jewelry box only thicker. He thought about shaking it, but rolled his eyes at the childish notion.

Taking a sip of his whiskey, William ripped at the wrapping paper, tossing it onto his desk without care. The case in his hand was leather bound and as he turned it over, he found his name engraved.

“What the..” an eyebrow raised as he propped the case open.

He stopped breathing when he found the pair of glasses settled on a silk cushion.

Glasses that looked familiar. Too familiar.

Because they were his. At least they looked like his, ones from many years ago. Glasses that had been broken in a drunk rage by his twin. Thomas had apologized once he sobered, even bought him a new pair himself. But it was that moment that their relationship had taken a dive for the worse. Not long later, the nightmare of his most hated night had left his brother god even knows where.

His fingers shook as he gently lifted the glasses from the case. They were exactly the same as he remembered, almost an exact replica.

William knew who it was from without even looking at the small note card lying at the bottom of the case. Swallowing the lump in his throat, he picked up the card.

Merry Christmas

That was it? That was all his absent brother had to say?

He almost wanted to crumple it up, to throw it in the rubbish along with the glasses. But something drove him to flip over the card.

Little brother

William’s eyes closed as he held that card a long moment. Treasured it almost, even more so than the glasses. And after the moment passed, he carefully put both the card and the glasses in its case, reached over to his desk drawer, and safely laid it inside. Pushing the drawer closed he shoved the wrapping paper from his desk to the garbage bin beside it, erasing that the present had even been there at all.

And then William poured himself another glass.

[miraculousturtle]

dealership stories

SO TODAY IS PART GOOD NEWS AND PART DEALERSHIP STORY FUCKERY. LIKE. I CANNOT. CAN. NOT. WITH TODAY.

it’s like god woke up today and went: hmmmm. ana has been a good human kinda. time to shake her day up. SHAKE HER DAY UP. I MAKE IT SO.

Where to start? Let’s just make a shit sandwhich and begin with some dealership fuckery. 

(BUT THIS STORY ENDS ON THE MOST WILDEST OF RIDES I PROMISE UNDER THE CUT)

So. This customer has this car that’s totally messed up. like on the way over for her appointment on friday, the car died and had to be towed in because the BATTERY HAD NO JUICE BECAUSE THE CAR IS THAT SHITTY AND THE OWNER DOESN’T DRIVE IT.

 well, that’s fine. we charge that sucker up, do the airbag recall, and i’m trying to sell them brakes. brakes are an awesome upsell. i like that upsell. 

THEY WANT THE BRAKES BUT THEY ARE LIKE “wait, i need to get my car smogged.” 

“omg, sir, we do smog here. let me do for it for you.” 

i shouldn’t have said anything. i knew the car was fucked up. the key barely works in the tumbler. you have wiggle it around and it’s a nightmare. 

but i did and they were like GREAT so here i go, to take it down the smog guy and the key doesn’t work right. had to get the tech wiggle it around for me because i lack the touch.

tried to roll down the front window. it rolls down but doesn’t come up unless you pull it up with your hands. several times. 

the pass side window doesn’t roll down either

did i mention that it has no rear brakes? it has 1mm for rear brakes. no one should be driving that car lmao 

find the smog guy and he’s like -_-

“give it it to the porter so he can drive it around to get everything up and running so i can do the smog”

i prepare my porter for battle. i warn him that this car is deathtrap and it might not have A/C. he dons his armor

a few hours later i call the smog guy because i haven’t had any updates

he finally picks up and is like “this car is a piece of shit, but i can’t run codes because the porter couldn’t drive it enough because it kept stalling. so we’re gonna try again.” 

MIRACULOUSLY. MIRACULOUSLY. 

the car passes smog despite it’s on its last legs

I PASSED THE FIRST EXAM FOR LA COUNTY

last week i study super hard for this test

the test is super easy

now i finally get to take the hard test and if i pass and do well on this next test, i get to go to the group interview

this job pays like min $62K min

all you need is a master’s degree

I…I have a master’s degree

like seriously, i’m perfect. pls pay me lots of money to do things i can already do and that’s like somehow applicable to my studies???

THE ULTIMATE DEALERSHIP FUCKERY HAPPENED. OVER THE STUPIDEST THING AND A LADY IS TRYING TO SAY SHE’S GOING TO CALL THE STATE ON ME BECAUSE SHE THINGS I PUT EXTRA CHARGES ON HER TICKET

backstory: my supervisor told me not to let that woman come. to not let her show up. to not schedule her an appointment. but did i listen?

no

i did not

anytime this woman comes she passes out flyers for her music classes which is super awkward 

and tries to use coupons from other dealerships that we can’t use because they literally say to be only used at THAT DEALERSHIP

she will then call everyone up and down southern california trying to price match and we’re like

dude

we’re still going to charge you this much

and she still comes back. it’s awful.

well, today i forgot it was here and everything was going well

she signed for her estimate for $69.95 for her full synthetic oil change and tire rotation. the same price we always charge and ADVERTISE SINCE FOREVER

everything is fine until i read her the total. $77.89 because of taxes and the oil disposal fee.

YOU KNOW TAXES. AND RECYCLING FEES. THE SAME THINGS SHE HAS BEEN PAYING FOR SINCE SHE’S HAD A CAR FOR MORE THAN MY LIFETIME. 

she looks at me asks why i didn’t quote her that in the first place and I was like “ma’am I can’t quote you taxes. i quote you our service. it’s 69.95″

“you’re breaking the law by misquoting me.”

“ma’am i did not misquote you. by law, i can’t quote you the taxes.” 

SHE THEN PROCEEDS TO TELL ME SHE’S GOING TO CALL THE STATE ON ME AND HER BROTHER IS AN MECHANIC FOR AUTO REPAIR SHOPS WHO INVESTIGATES THESE THINGS

(that’s a lie. B.A.R. (bureau of automotive repairs) have their own auditors who do this work…not mechanics.) 

I tell her to go ahead. please contact the state. by all means.

She glares at me and signs her paperwork. 

THEN BITCH SIGNS BY HER NAME THAT and i quote “I was told this was going to be $69) 

OH MY GOD I WAS SEETHING RED. SEETHING RED.

i felt bad because i was so mad i wasn’t as wonderful as I usually am to my next customer :( 

THE WILDEST ROLLER COASTER IS ABOUT TO START. LIKE FRIENDS. FRIENDS. FRIENDSSSSS. I kinda accepted a new job?!?!?!

so a few weeks ago, i joined ziprecruiter. 10/10. my resume has never had so many views until recently and the mobile apply is such an awesome feature. IT’S SO GOOD.

i vaguely remember selecting the option to have them send my resume out to other people and they did

enter smartrecruiters. so this company finds me and tells me they want to do an online interview

i got one of these messages last week but it was so weird that they didn’t tell me who they were so it felt like scam

THIS ONE ACTUALLY PUT THE COMPANY THEY WERE AND I WAS LIKE?? Okay. why not.

they’re global. have a lot of locations. have a wikipage. and have been around since 1859. seems legit. they’re opening up an LA office next month so this could be exciting. i want to move to LA.

So i set up the interview for my lunch hour

it’s kinda weird? the interview because it’s all chat base and I’m doing it on my phone at farmer’s boy but I’m answering the questions a bit more the direct side because i’m just typing on my phone.

the interview finishes and i’m like well–this was a great learning experience! and i learned about how I would respond. 

she says she’s impressed and that she will speak to her supervisors and will be back to me in 15-20 mins. to please wait kindly by my device were her words

so i wait. 

an hour goes by

i’m like fuck i guess i didn’t get it. the pay would have been sweet. just a little over 48K per year. damn. maybe on an industry i wanted, but doing a role a like. admin assistant.

I THEN GET A MESSAGE SAYING WOULD I LIKE TO HEAR WHAT THEY DECIDED?!

she sends a cute little emoji

I GOT THE JOB. 

 there are great benefits. training. pay???? THINGS. I GOT THE JOB????? AND IT PAYS ALMOST 50K A YEAR?!?!

i’m just waiting on my formal offer and once I have that, I will put in my two weeks notice. 

Like

wow

i’m really adulting right now. this is insane. INSANE.

BONUS: I found in my spam folder an invite to set up an phone interview with LA City of Commerce. Like did the universe decide it wants me today????

[deancaspinefest]

Posts on: February 12th

Summary: Living a hermit life, Dean Winchester didn’t need much. The only things important to him were his position in the business that was once owned by his family, his boat, and his friendship with Castiel, Charlie, and Gabriel. If only there wasn’t a whole ocean between them, then maybe he could even give his feelings for Castiel a chance…

Keep reading for a sneak preview!

Dean was met with silence for a moment, Cas clearly careful about how to phrase what was on his mind. “Have you thought about –”

“I’m not quitting my job. Jesus, Cas!” How could he even suggest that?

“That’s not what I was going to say,” Castiel threw in quickly. “I was going to ask if you’ve ever thought that it might be a scam? Some sick psycho games to get you to quit?”

Grinding his teeth, Dean shook his head; he didn’t want to believe it. “I don’t know. I don’t care. This is my family’s company; he’s not going to get me out of it.” But what if that was really Adler’s plan?

Putting his whiskey down, he let his head fall into his hands, groaning. Life was so not fair.

“Dean …” he heard his friend’s voice, soft and full of concern. When he looked up, he caught a glimpse of Castiel’s outstretched hand, as if he was trying to reach through the monitor to touch and comfort him. The hand dropped immediately and Dean decided not to comment on it.

“Can we please talk about something else? I can’t think about that right now.”

“Dean –”

“How’s book thirteen coming along?”

Heaving a sigh, Cas allowed the change of topic. For now. Dean was sure they’d be talking about it again very soon.

“It’s … a bit slower than usual.”

“Meaning?”

Sighing again, this time for completely different reasons, Cas’ fingers raked through his hair, mussing it up. Dean hid his smile behind the tumbler. He would never tell his friend, but in moments like these he looked absolutely adorable.

And damn, not thinking about that now.

Quickly he downed a big gulp of whiskey and washed away all his inappropriate thoughts.

“I can’t even describe it. I’m just having a hard time and I feel like it doesn’t flow as it usually does.”

“You know I’m always here to help, right?”

Staring at him for a few silent moments, Cas finally heaved another sigh. He was doing that a lot tonight.

“Hey, Cas? Something else bothering you?”

“Yes … No. I don’t know.”

Seeing Cas like that hurt, but knowing he wasn’t there to actually comfort his friend was almost worse.

“Cas, buddy, look at me.” It took a moment before he could see those blue eyes again. “Tell me what’s wrong.”

“I’m just …” Cas started, only to swallow hard before starting again. “I don’t know if maybe it’s run its course.”

Dean blinked at his screen for a moment. Run its course? As in … “You thinking about ending the series?” Shit, I shouldn’t have sounded so shocked. Supportive, be supportive. “Sorry. Sorry, that came out wrong. I mean, if you feel like that –”

“I don’t know, that’s the problem. I don’t know what or how I feel anymore. I don’t know anything anymore.”

[noxbandit]

Hi everyone. I know not a lot of my followers are still on tumbler, but I was recently scammed out of 200 dollars by my "New employer" I've already reported this to my bank and the police but they don't think I'll be getting that money back, but that money was going to go towards next month's rent, and considering I'm pretty sure I am now unemployed I could really use some help.

I hate to ask for money but I don't know what else I could do... I don't expect to get the full 200 back but anything helps! And if you can't spare anything please reblog this so maybe someone out there could help me?

My cash app is: $morganhollis97

If you'd like to know more about what happened please feel free to message me.

Thanks again for any help you can give!

[qwloapp]

Are You In Need Of Car Repairs? Keep Reading For Advice

Your vehicle is an important possession and you should take good care for. Maybe you wish to learn more about cars and want to learn. This article is intended to help provide a little more confidence in your abilities and teach you the place to start.

Make sure that your mechanic is A.S.E certified before you let them work on your car. This indicates passage of written testing and experience of no less than two years. That means only the best will work on your car.

TIP! Keeping a good battery charger in your vehicle is always a wise choice to avoid being stranded. Having a dead battery can leave you stranded in some pretty terrible places.

Never underestimate the value of keeping an emergency kit inside your vehicle. You ought to assemble a kit consisting of tire change tools, charge your battery and put more gas in your tank.

Be sure and regularly check your radiator. Allow your car to run for a bit and then turn it off and pop open the hood. Be careful not to open your radiator if the car’s running. Check how much fluid is in the radiator with a dipstick and keep in mind that you should always mix coolant with water before pouring it in your radiator.

TIP! Before you hand over your car to the shop, be sure you are clear about the repair costs. If something is unclear, have the mechanic or service counter rep clarify it for you before any work is done on the car.

Make sure you do not neglect the radiator in your car. Run your car for a bit, and then turn it off and pop your hood. You never open the radiator if your car is still running. Check the radiator fluid by using a dipstick and remember to dilute coolant with water prior to adding it.

It is a good idea to use referrals to find a decent mechanic. Ask the people you know for their recommendations. This allows you to ask about the price, quality of work and satisfaction. People will tell you about the mechanic’s honesty and if their experience was a good one.

TIP! When bringing your car to a mechanic, tell them you want OEM parts. These parts are directly from the manufacturer of your vehicle.

You should wash your car to keep the rust away. All cars eventually get rusted, but you may delay it considerably by ensuring all chemicals and salts are washed off quickly. Use a decent wax for protecting paint jobs as much as possible.

If your headlights are not shining as brightly, check to see if they are clean. Residue can diminish their light output. Clean theses with a good quality glass cleaning agent to get them as clean as possible.

TIP! Look for signs that should serve as a warning that your repair man is no good. If you have trouble getting a straight answer out of them, (or if, even worse, they refuse to answer questions to your satisfaction) they probably aren’t the kind of people you want to work with.

Keep a record when your vehicle. If you have more problems later, your mechanic will appreciate having access to your past records.

Verify that a prospective mechanic is familiar with your specific car. Basic components are usually the same, but things like hood space vary by brand. If you cannot be sure, just take the car to a dealership.

TIP! A spare tire and a jack are essential items to keep in your trunk. Modern cars come equipped with them already.

Test out your car before paying the auto repair shop.

Do not use all kinds of extra key chains with your keys. The ignition of your car is not meant to hold much weight. Although these keychains may not feel heavy to you, they will to your car. If your key sticks, install new tumblers and use a lighter key chain.

TIP! Competent repairs can be done elsewhere than at the dealership. There are quite a few mechanics out there, whether you get your car into one of them or do things at home yourself there are many options.

Be careful that your vehicle. A good mechanic will let you know when they see something else wrong with your full approval. Never give your vehicle to a mechanic that preforms unnecessary repairs.

It may be a good idea to fully photograph your car internally and externally prior to taking it in for repairs. A lot of shops aren’t going to strip things out of your vehicle, but some will if they are trying to make more money. Fight against this kind of scam by thoroughly documenting the condition of your car beforehand.

TIP! Even minor problems should be checked by a mechanic. Often times, ignoring small issues lead directly to more serious ones.

Look out for obvious “red flags” when dealing with a new auto repair mechanics may give off. If you are being talked to in circles and your questions aren’t answered, you’d be wise to not use their services. You want to be able to trust the person doing your repairs, so don’t be afraid to choose another one.

Warranties serve an important purpose when your car is repaired, especially when you buy expensive parts. When the mechanic orders the parts, ask him about their warranty. See how long that warranty lasts and get a printed copy of that contract to review it.

TIP! Don’t allow auto mechanics to persuade you that getting an engine flushed is normal maintenance. This service is expensive and it may not be necessary.

It can be dangerous to fix your own. Always get someone to be near you just in case of an emergency. Buy only the highest quality tools that will last. This is very true for the tools that you use to change your tires. The jack you are working on the underside of the car. A good investment is to purchase a hydraulic jack which comes with jack stands after elevating the car.

Problems seem to crop up only when the car is left with a mechanic. They do this to make it look like you are getting a good deal from them. Tell them you want to take a few hours to make a decision and then call around for quotes from other shops.

TIP! Once you’ve worked on the brakes, before you take them out to test them you should bleed them. After this, pump your brake fluid.

As you can now see, it’s important that you take care of your vehicle. Simple maintenance can help you avoid the mechanic and save you money. When your car isn’t running right and you think it may need repairs, remember these tips.

Always keep your ears open to the noises coming from your car. Many issues can be identified just by the sounds of your car. If possible, describe the sounds you noticed to your mechanic so they can quickly diagnose the issue.

TIP! When you are washing your car, take the mats outside and hit them once or twice with the hose. Dirt particles stick to the rubber surface; as time goes on the particles can create holes.

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[helenarlett-rex]

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