#wiper fluid would not work

[tedkaczynskiofficial]

You don't just sit around waiting for all the ice to melt off of your windshield. You turn the defroster on, which helps even if the air doesn't feel warm, let it go for a few minutes, and then you scrape the ice off of your windshield with a scraper. The whole process takes maybe 10 minutes, less if you use the aforementioned de-icer spray. You can't use windshield washing fluid on thick ice, especially not if the spray nozzle itself is frozen or frozen over. Who has time to use the defroster? People who live in areas where it is too cold and icy for windshield washing fluid to work.

i still frequently think about a story from one of my high school classmates, of the day his windshield completely iced over before he had to leave for school, and his mother (who, for clarity’s sake, is not from nor has ever been to poland) said “don’t worry, i know an old polish trick” and threw a whole kettle of boiling water over the windshield, shattering it instantly

[dannystheone]

Merc With The Mouth (Lee DP/ Ler Wolv)

HI GUYS OMG IT'S HERE!

So I watched Deadpool and Wolverine in theaters being a big-time Deadpool fan since 2016 and I fell into the trenches HARD

I was not expecting to fixate on this movie as hard as I have but I wanted to try my hand at it! Now let me be clear, this is no @lovemybluebully work, they really have their finger on the pulse when it comes to these fics, but nevertheless, I'm still excited to share this piece :)

I hope you guys enjoy this is a big thing to take on after having not written in a while so I hope it's well received! Thank you for everything

WARNINGS: SPOILERS! Cursing, gore, violence, general shenanigans, fourth wall breaks

Wolverine snaps on Deadpool in the Honda Odyssey after hours of being a mouthy handful. But how does he deal with the silence that follows?

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

Hours of driving in the dusty Honda Odyssey, not getting any closer to the Borderlands where they were needed, and a jabbering idiot in his ear made Logan's eyeball twitching damn near audible.

The dense corn fields on either side of the Odyssey whipped past as Wolverine's hands clenched the steering wheel in a white-knuckled grip. Deadpool started up another nonsense topic to yap on about after Wolverine told him to shut up for the millionth time. Apparently, no one's ever taught Wade to sit in a comfortable silence.

"So if they fix your world, what's the first thing you're gonna do? Rubbing alcohol shots with a wiper fluid chaser?" Wade quipped. The weight of Wade's words hit Logan's ear like a bullet. It was the first thing Wade had said that Logan paid any real attention to, but this was arguably the most paramount.

Logan took his foot off the gas and slammed into the brake, making the Honda's tires squeal and jolt to a jarring stop. The vehicle shuddered with the sudden movements. Deadpool looked to Wolverine as Wolverine faced him, malice glinting in his eye.

"What did you say?" Wolverine asked Deadpool with chilling calm.

After discovering the ridiculousness that was Wade's so-called 'educated wish', Logan found himself in an uncontrollable rant after the days' past events caught up with him all at once. Once he started his rant, he found he couldn't stop. Everything he wanted to say to Wade that day poured out of him in a stream of hatred. Deadpool stared at him unnervingly with no comment while he raged.

"-Couldn't even save a relationship with a goddamn stripper! And motherfucker I wish I could say you die alone, but it's one of GOD'S best jokes that you can't die! Except that's on all of us!" Wolverine growled, his heart thundering in his chest after he ended his explosive tirade. He looked to Wade expectantly.

"Oh, what? You got nothin' to say, Mouth?" Wolverine spat.

Deadpool swallowed silently, being taken back to the photo that he had shown to Wolverine that had his whole world inside of it. His whole world, in one tiny polaroid. And even though it was that small, he still couldn't save it.

He felt his resolve slowly crumble as Wolverine's words started to sink in. He couldn't save Vanessa in his timeline, and when he brought her back to life she still left him. What if he failed again like he did last time, on an interdimensional scale, with not even a cream cheese spreader in hand to try to defend his loved ones? His whole world, his whole everything, lost? He couldn't defend them from an entire timeline collapsing. Maybe Logan was right-

Wolverine snapped his fingers in Deadpool's face to snap him back to reality.

"Hey, asshole. I'm talking to you. What have you got to say? You've had some idiotic little quip to respond to everything I've said to you today, and now you clam up?" Wolverine demanded.

Deadpool swallowed again and opened his mouth to speak, but he was truly lost. He was really at a loss for words. He didn't think this would ever happen to him, but he couldn't even begin to think how he could respond. Logan got him this time.

Unfortunately for Wade, this pissed Logan off worse than hearing about this 'educated wish' bullshit. Wolverine didn't want to admit that most of what he said was deflection, and he was frustrated and took it out on Deadpool. The more Deadpool was silent about his explosion, the more Wolverine would have to think and actually reflect on what he said to him. Wolverine wanted to fight, to argue now, to get this aggression out. Wolverine shifted in his seat to better face Deadpool and pointed a gloved finger in his face.

"If you think, that this stupid little game of yours with not fucking talking is gonna make me regret a SINGLE thing I said to you in any way, you're sorely fucking mistaken. We're not moving this car until you open your goddamn mouth." Wolverine snarled. Deadpool snuck a glance at the camera for this gratuitous quote from Wolverine but kept his mouth shut.

Deadpool decided to see if he could call his bluff because he was still at a loss for words. What was the point of any of this if everything would be destroyed, leaving him in the dark like his life before his family?

Wolverine growled and unsheathed his adamantium claws, and shoved them in Deadpool's ribs. The Honda Odyssey jostled with the violent movement. Blood began to seep from the wound and crawl down Deadpool's side. The red bled into the shade of Deadpool's suit. Yet, not a peep left Wade's mouth; He stared nonchalantly at the dashboard ahead of him. Nothing Deadpool couldn't handle of course. He's had worse from Vanessa in terms of penetration.

"Why is it NOW that you finally shut up? I said speak, bastard!" Despite the bliss that was Deadpool not speaking, Wolverine couldn't stand the thought of being remorseful of his words, especially in the direction of Wade Wilson. He should be able to say whatever he wanted and not feel guilt twining in his chest like barbed wire.

With an irritated sigh, Wolverine went to take his claws out of Wade's ribs. He jerked his elbow back to take his claws out, but his claws were caught on something. Grunting, Wolverine drew his elbow back more sharply on the next try, but Deadpool's body swayed with him. Now, if Deadpool were on speaking terms, he would allude to Wolverine's inability to pull out. However, he wasn't feeling funny right now.

Wolverine snarled in annoyance and grabbed Deadpool's ribs with his free hand to brace himself and wrench his claws out. Wolverine's fingers pressed into Deadpool's ribs, causing a jolt to pass through the merc. Deadpool snorted, a small sound coming out of his mouth. He slapped Wolverine's hand off his ribs, but Wolverine heard that small exchange.

"What was that? Something to say, Bub?" Wolverine tested. Deadpool stayed silent. Anger flared up in Wolverine as he clenched his fist. He shot forward and gripped his ribs with more force to seize his claws out. Deadpool jolted as he yelped and shrunk away from Wolverine's hands.

"GAH! Hey, no touching, Penn State. I don't have my rape whistle on me today." Deadpool shoved Wolverine's hand off his ribs again, but Wolverine figured this was the only way to get him talking again. Wolverine took his hand and gave Deadpool an intentional squish in his side just below his sunk claws, causing Deadpool to squeak.

"You're gonna talk, asshole. We're not moving until you show me what you thought about what I said." Wolverine needed to know how Deadpool felt about what he said so Deadpool didn't power down on him when it came to saving the world later. He needed to know that he didn't actually take those hurtful words to heart. Deadpool narrowed his eyes at Wolverine and instead tried to yank his claws out of his ribs.

"What is this, a podcast? We already hosted one to promote the movie, where you said absolutely nothing- might I add- and now you care about my opinion? Too little, too late, Fresh and Fit. You don't get my opinion, you just get to drive." Deadpool faced forward again, but Wolverine wasn't having it.

"Alright that's it you piece of arrogant shit-" Well, this was one way to get his aggression out. Wolverine took the claws that were embedded in Deadpool's ribs and used the leverage to drag Deadpool closer to him. Wolverine took his free hand and started scribbling his gloved hand on Deadpool's stomach. Wade squealed and started pushing against him immediately.

"Mahaha! Nohoho no no- wahahait! Thihihis ihihihisn't hohohow I imahahagined it!! Ahahat leheheast rehehead mhyhy AO3 fihihihirst!" Deadpool started giggling and kicking his legs, trying to curl away from Wolverine's offensive hand. Wolverine kept a gruff expression, not knowing all these inane references he liked to use. Logan scribbled his fingers into Wade's side, making the merc squeal.

"Why do you always jabber on about everything I DON'T want you to talk about. All you have to do is one simple fucking thing and you can't even do that." Wolverine grumbled. He didn't want to sit here tickling Deadpool all day, especially when they were on a world-ending time crunch, but he needed a non-sulking competent partner.

"I cahahan't! I'm tohohoo commihihitted to the bihihihit!" Deadpool shook his head as Wolverine continued, his fingers squishing into Wade's skin as he kept a firm grip on him via his claws. Logan had to admit, he couldn't remember the last time he actively tickled someone. Maybe some antics back at the academy, but that was decades ago. Hopefully, he hasn't lost his touch, however, Wolverine wouldn't be surprised if Deadpool had a thing for this kind of stuff.

"You gonna talk now? We've got no time for games." Wolverine asked. Deadpool threw up his hands and gestured to Wolverine squishing his side repeatedly while still laughing, a wordless show.

"Juhuhust stohohohop ahahalready! Thehehese ahaharen't lihihike my heheadcannons ohohf yohou 'ler'ing' ahahat ahahahall!" Deadpool shouted. Wolverine figured maybe a different spot was in order. He went lower on Deadpool's side nearing the top of his hip, and Deadpool's laughter grew louder with the motion.

"Wahahait wait wahait! I neheheed a pahahassword behehefore yohohou goho behehelow the behehelt! Thehe mohohovie is R-rahated but stihihill!" Deadpool kicked the legroom he had in front of him as Wolverine started kneading his hip with his thumb. He always had to be theatrical, no matter what.

"Why don't you just stop wasting our time and say what I want you to say. You said your world is at stake, isn't it? And you're taking up time being an ass." Wolverine gruffed. Logan's four fingers were pressed against Wade's back as his thumb pushed and pressed into the hollow of his hip, which was surprisingly easy to find through his suit. Wolverine drug Deadpool closer with his claws every time he tried to escape.

"I dohohon't knohohow whahat you wahahant mehehe to sahahay! Thihihis ihihihisn't in the scrihihipt!" Despite this being a dream come true for Wade, he did agree that they were wasting time here. He didn't know what it was Wolverine expected him to do though. He wanted feedback for exploding on him like that? He was unclear about Wolverine's goals if he didn't say them aloud.

"Stop talking and just fucking speak! Quit wasting your breath on fucking nonsense!" Wolverine demanded. He moved his hand to Deadpool's waistline above his belt and started vibrating his fingers into the skin. Deadpool snuck a suggestive look into the camera before bursting out in laughter again.

"Yohohou knohohow fohohor beheheing mahahad yohohou're dohohoing behehetter thahahan my rohohohose tohohoy!" Deadpool shouted, his hands trying to push Wolverine's hand down below his belt line while Wolverine kept up his vibrating motion. Wolverine grimaced in disgust and shoved his hand as far away from his belt as possible, which he found was lodged in Deadpool's armpit. He began scratching into the space.

"Fine, then we'll just be here all day, wasting our time, when an entire timeline is collapsing because you don't want to take two seconds to say one fucking sentence." Even Wolverine didn't know what he wanted that sentence to be. He was starting to think even if he did hear what he thought he wanted to hear, it wouldn't be enough to calm his eternal war.

"I cahahan't dohoho thahahat! I cahahan't ihihimprohovise whehen I'm beheheing tihihickled!" Deadpool countered. Being giggly didn't give Deadpool the best coordination or strength for that matter, so trying to get Wolverine's hand out of his armpit was a herculean feat.

"Whyhyhy hahahahasn't Shahawn yehehelled 'CUT' yehehehet?! Thihihis ihihihis rihihidiculous!" Even Deadpool had his limits, and he was coming up on it. Some of his fantasies were much better on paper rather than practice. Deadpool decided to try and get out of this in a way that wasn't physical. Wade swallowed the remainder of his laughs and pointed out the windshield.

"Oh my God! The Bachelorette! The TVA sent Jenn Tran to the Void?! What is she doing here?!" Deadpool put on his best convincing voice as he pointed behind Wolverine. Wolverine followed his pointed hand before inwardly cursing himself. Deadpool took his leg and shot out at Logan's jaw, kicking the mutant in the face. The force knocked Wolverine's claws out of his ribs (finally) and sent Logan into the door of the Odyssey. The Honda wobbled with the movement, Logan looking temporarily dazed.

"Finally, now you'll- Oh God." Deadpool started, but Wolverine recovered earlier than he'd thought. Wolverine held Deadpool's leg in his grip with his leg draped over the center console, a grin crafted of pure malice on Wolverine's face. Deadpool looked at the camera with a nervous expression.

"Chat, on a scale of 1 to 10, how cooked am I?" Deadpool asked before nearly screaming.

Wolverine had plunged his fingers into Deadpool's thigh and kneecap, squishing and prodding the sensitive skin on top and inside his thigh. Deadpool belly laughed when he was just giggling before, unable to truly form words now. Wolverine snorted with a frown and shook his head at the ridiculous display as he continued scribbling and scratching over Wade's thigh.

"NOHOHO! Thihihihis ihihihisn't hohohohow yohohou treheheat Mahaharvel Jehehehesus!" Deadpool laughed hysterically, his leg kicking as the ticklish electricity zapped up and down his thigh.

"Talk and I'll let go. It's really that simple, you're doing this to yourself, Bub." Despite the huge threat the timeline was facing, Wolverine was starting to brighten with this treatment of Deadpool. He didn't think it would get him this bad, and after being an insufferable prick all day, he was starting to gladden at the fact that he could get him back in some way.

"Ihihihif I hahahad it myhyhyhy wahahay, yohohou'd behehe tihihihickling ahaha dihihihifferent bohohohody pahahart!" Deadpool let out. Even when he was getting tickled to death, he had to express his quips. Not being able to be a smartass was the REAL torture.

So they were there for a minute, going back and forth between each other with Deadpool being effortlessly funny and Wolverine muttering in reply. It would be listed out here for you but the author is running out of dialogue and doesn't want to admit it.

"Okahahahay seheheheriously! Ihihihif yohohou dohohon't stohohop I'm sehehetting Dogpohohool on yohohou!" Deadpool shouted, his leg kicking and shaking from its repeated abuse from Wolverine.

"You ready to talk yet? We go any more and you're gonna hurt yourself." Wolverine eventually asked. Deadpool simply nodded, too overcome with laughter, and Wolverine let him go. Deadpool held his thudding heart while he caught his breath, glad that his mask shielded the view of his red cheeks.

"Ha... ah... and I thought Colossus was mean. He at least asks if I'm comfortable and establishes a safeword first. You're just... vicious. I don't even think Blake has explored my body like that." Deadpool took his leg off of Wolverine's lap and slouched in his seat.

"So. What do you have to say?" Wolverine asked. Deadpool's heart calmed as he opened his mouth.

"Well... truthfully... I mean if we had the time and the budget for a segment that lengthy we could have used it for scenes you'd have to open your incognito tab for-" Wolverine shot his hand out at Deadpool but didn't actually touch him, and Deadpool jumped and yelled in surprise.

"What do you have to say about what I said, smartass? No fucking games." Wolverine said with icy calm. Deadpool exhaled loudly and dropped his head back into his seat, looking up at the ceiling of the Odyssey.

"I think you're wrong. I can save my family, my universe, and my timeline because I've done it before. But not without your help. You're right, I did lie to you. I lied and I told you what you wanted to hear just so you could help me, and there's a reason why you're the anchor being and I'm not. I was willing to say anything to get you here, to help me. And I'm... I'm sorry. I am sorry. I shouldn't have done that." Deadpool looked over to Wolverine who was looking at him with a softened expression.

Wolverine took a moment before he slowly nodded.

"Okay. Come on. Let's save your fragile ass timeline and save your world, so you can stay far away from mine as possible." Wolverine said ultimately. Deadpool nodded, pumping his fists into the air.

"Yes! Ketchup and Mustard are back on the road! The fanservice is our savior once more. It's a blue moon when it doesn't work, and those odds only kick up when you're writing for Voltron." Wolverine started the car back up and began to amble down the road once more.

Only a few moments afterward did Deadpool start back up his antics after Wolverine started driving down the road in the Odyssey like nothing had happened earlier.

"Hey, Honey Badger. English or Spanish?" Deadpool asked. Wolverine narrowed his eyes at the question and shook his head.

"The hell are you asking me?" Wolverine asked. Deadpool cackled unexpectedly.

"HAH! I always knew underneath that rugged exterior was a fruit bowl on the inside. The kind of fruit bowl with a single bruised banana and a brown lime in it, with some garlic cloves at the bottom, but still a fruit bowl nevertheless. Oh, you make me happy." Deadpool went and leaned his head on Wolverine's shoulder until Wolverine shrugged him off.

Something about Deadpool's fruit bowl comment nagged at Wolverine. Something about the garlic cloves made him unexpectedly snort. Deadpool looked at him like the god that he was as a ghost of a smile traced Wolverine's lips.

"You really are the Merc with the Mouth huh? You never shut up." Wolverine commented. Deadpool reached over and gave a generous helping of pokes up and down Wolverine's side. Wolverine growled and slapped Deadpool's hand away.

"You touch me again and you lose that hand." Wolverine threatened.

"That's the game, and business is good. By the way, next time let's establish when we're going to do a tickle scene, okay? Danny tends to be insecure about the length of the tickling scenes in their works because they feel they write too much exposition." Deadpool looked into the camera and winked.

"Who the hell are you- you know what, fuck it." Wolverine shook his head once more and stared out onto the open road.

"Don't worry Danny, you're doing great sweetie. And thank all of you for your unending support. You just say the word and we'll get Steve Irwin hear singing his laughter like he's on The Greatest Showman again. We'll see you next time, here in the Borderlands." Deadpool blew a kiss into the camera and waved off the audience.

[magnolia-among-the-stars]

the last bit of us (prologue)

Plot: Tyler Owens hasn’t been home in a year. He’s survived all the storm chasing and motel living with his new partners as they try to save lives. But with all the damage they’ve taken from driving high beams first into monster storms, it’s time to pay the piper and bring the truck in for repairs. And the only person who can fix them is the best mechanical engineer he’s ever met. Eleanor Harding, his estranged wife.

Pairing: Tyler Owens x Estranged Wife OC (Harding Daughter)

A/N: Ya'll, I wrote a book, graduated from my MFA, became an English Professor and haven't written anything in two months...thank you to glen powell for pulling me from my rut. I can always count on you.

prologue / one / two / three

______________________________________________________________

He knew he would have to go back eventually. The getup that had been built onto his Ram could only withstand so much. Kate’s death march straight into an EF5 had nearly stripped the hydraulic drills and their continued research to suffocate tornadoes had brought the welded exoskeleton frame to the brink of crumbled chicken wire. His truck looked worse for wear and the Wranglers had been bugging him for weeks about taking it in for repairs.

“Listen man,” Boone said on bright day at the beginning of June. He seemed to appear out of nowhere and clapped Tyler on the back. It made the man jump, nearly cracked his skull on the underside of the hood. “I know you don’t want to take a trip to get ole Betty fixed up.”

“Not Betty,” Tyler replies with a grunt, turning back to fill the wiper fluid.

“It’s time to go home man,” Boone continues on, “With all the chasin’ we’re doin’, we need new equipment anyways. The truck isn’t supped enough to deal with the constant damage…you know that. And with everything happening with--” Boone makes a face toward Kate with a heavy wink. Tyler’s tempted to knock some sense into the man.

She’s only a few yards away, looking to the skies for any signs of shifting clouds. She looks incredible, sunglasses sitting atop her head. Her hair is so golden under the hot Oklahoma sun, not even sticking to her neck as she stares up absentmindedly at the horizon.

“That’s what I’m sayin’. You ain’t even listening to me, are ya?” Boone’s voice cuts through the air.

He’s loud enough that Kate peers over her shoulder to see the commotion. She smiles at him, scrunching her nose. Incredible.

Boone’s hands collide with Tyler’s shoulder, knocking him forward a little in the tall grass. Tyler grunts as he tries to keep his footing.

“Knock that shit out, you’re gettin’ on my last nerve today,” Tyler says. He pushes him back firmly. A warning shot.

“You need to get that sorted,” Boone says. He starts walking backwards, away from Tyler and toward the RV where the rest of the Wranglers are. Tyler doesn’t miss the word considered leave Boone’s mouth as he turns away. Boone’s not a frowning man, not normally the one who gets heated over this and that so the tension in his words squeeze at Tyler’s chest in a way he isn’t prepared to deal with.

The chain of his necklace tucked safe and discreet under his white shirt starts to burn against his skin. He scratches away at it when Kate appears behind him. Why is everyone sneaking up on him today?

“He alright?”

A grin appears on Tyler’s face. Her voice is playful and it’s soothing to his ears. “Is he ever?” Tyler jokes, turning to the pretty woman he’s been working beside for the last few months.

She laughs and brushes some hair out of her face. He wants to do it for her. He wants to hold her face, kiss her. He never seems to find the right opportunity, find the right moment between all the motel rooms and 100-mile winds blowing through towns. He’s intimated by her wit, her drive to do more for the community. It reminds him of someone else. And that thought normally makes him a little nauseous. He thought that would go away by now.

“He seemed annoyed,” Kate says, crossing her arms to look up at him.

“He was,” Tyler says. He pulls the dirty rag from the back pocket of his Levi’s and wipes the dirt from his palms. “He thinks I should take the truck into the shop.” “Well, Betty does need a tune up.”

Tyler groans. “Why is everyone calling it that?”

“Cause only a woman could go into storms as mighty and come out with ease,” Kate smirks. Tyler scoffs, staring at her with admiration.

“Cute,” he says and turns back to the truck to look over any other repairs he could make himself. Kate leans over the side of the car, staring down at the engine caked in dust and debris. She tilts her head with curiosity, blinking up at him.

“Seriously though, why not take it in? We can take a week off, maybe get some solid sleep and a good shower for once. There’s a shop only a few miles away from the motel,” Kate says, pointing in the direction.

The man shakes his head, not even looking at her. “That wouldn’t work.”

Kate raises a brow. “How come?”

“It’s a custom truck,” Tyler says. “There’s only one shop that can do the repairs.”

“…Okay, so let’s take it to the shop then,” she tries again.

He swallows his words the second he hears Dexter calling out for them, the promise of another storm halting anymore conversation about the truck and it’s repairs. But that’s only until they load up the new barrels and peel toward a growing storm. Tyler’s harness buckle jams as he revs at full speed toward the sucker and then Boone calls out that one of the rockets doesn’t deploy. When they push through the wall of wind and debris to anchor down into the dirt, drills start to grind against what he can only imagine is a hard rock. The sound of shredding steel makes his jaw clench. The one thing that goes right is the barrels deploying into the sky and drying out the tornado, the sky painting itself blue as the funnel evaporates.

“Are you guys alright? Come in,” Javi’s voice crackles over the radio.

Thank you for reading! Want to be tagged? Click here :)

[whiskey-bumblebee]

good luck, babe!

Pairing: Elle Greenaway/Fem!Reader

Word Count: ~1600

Warnings: Internalized homophobia, sad ending

A/N: I could not tell you where this came from but here it is

In the dark, alone, in the middle of nowhere, always looking over her shoulder; these were the moments you had with Elle, but you'd rather have a little bit of her than none at all. Her lips were warm and soft against your own, and you laughed quietly when you reached up to touch your lips and found her lipstick there. You wanted to leave it, you wanted it to stay there forever, until the investigators you worked with finally put two and two together. Her shade, your mouth. Proof.

Proof that you weren't imagining it all, that you had her, even if nobody knew that you did. You felt like everyone knew she had you, thought that it would be obvious by the way you looked at her when she was talking, like she was a comet and you were the astronomer who had spent your life looking for it.

Your lips must have stilled, mind too busy to remember what you were doing, and Elle pulled away.

"What?" You said, as if you didn't know what the problem was.

Now that her eyes were open, she looked down at your lips and passed you a tissue from her center console.

"We should go."

You looked at your watch. "You still have a few hours left of the stakeout. What if he turns up right after we leave?"

"I have a bad feeling."

"About him or about us?"

She frowned at you. It always made you feel like a child, the patience and grace of the cool older kid having run out. Silent, rejected. There was nothing you could do to convince her.

Her phone rang.

"Still awake?"

It was Hotch.

"I think I might call it a night. There's no movement."

"Morgan and Reid are on their way there so you two can get some sleep. I'll see you back at the station at eight."

You groaned. That was barely three hours from now.

Elle's eyes shot over to you, and she muted the phone quickly.

"Elle? Is someone with you?"

"Shut up," She hissed at you, before unmuting the call.

"Just the windshield wipers, I think they're out of fluid."

You heard Hotch hum affirmatively over the line.

"Morgan should be there soon. Bye."

Elle snapped her phone shut, then looked back at you.

"What the fuck? Are you trying to get us caught?"

"I'm sorry, I wasn't thinking."

"Get out."

"What? We're miles from the hotel, Elle-"

"Walk a couple of blocks that way. I'll pick you up when Morgan gets here."

"It's freezing out there."

Elle rested her head in her hands.

"Do you want to explain to Morgan why you're here, with me, when you're supposed to be sleeping?"

"No, but-"

"Get out. I'll pick you up soon."

You felt your face falling and got out of the car before Elle could see your lip wobbling and your brow furrowing. Hot, frustrated tears spilled over your cheeks and you wiped them away roughly with the corner of your sleeve. You walked fast. You couldn't remember which way the hotel was, but it didn't matter.

___

"C'mon Elle, there has to be somebody," Penelope smiles.

She's looking everywhere except you, and it stings like a slap to the face.

She opens her phone and pulls out a picture of her kissing some guy's cheek. The background is blurry, but it looks like a bar somewhere. The next photo is her smiling widely, her arm wrapped around his neck as he laughs. You feel like you're going to be sick.

"It never lasts," She grins, with a shrug. "Just the way I am, I guess."

"Or the job," JJ interjects. "It's hard, with these hours."

"That too." Elle raises her drink. "Well, here's to my girls."

Nobody notices that your smile doesn't reach your eyes when you clink your glass against theirs.

___

In a bout of desperation, you have a dozen red roses delivered to the BAU, with nothing but a heart written on the tiny card. All you want is for Elle to look at you, to blush, to thank you, to acknowledge that you exist. While you were sitting at your desk, waiting for the delivery, you made the mistake of imagining an even better outcome: Elle running across the bullpen, arms wide open, and planting a kiss on your mouth in front of everyone. She gives some speech, saying that she doesn't care who sees, she doesn't care what they think anymore. The two of you laugh and rest your heads against each other, smelling the roses.

It's a mistake.

"It's a mistake," Elle shakes her head, looking the card over. "Wrong address."

She drops the roses easily into the bin beside her desk, and turns back to her computer.

JJ stares at her. "I could take them. If you're just going to throw them away."

"They're not mine," Elle says harshly.

"Well, someone should enjoy them." JJ stoops down and picks up the stems tenderly, and Elle wrests them from her grasp, tearing the card from the cellophane.

That attracts everybody else's attention again.

Elle crumples the card into a ball and puts it on the far corner of her desk.

"Elle? Everything okay?" Gideon asks, halfway through a file.

"It's fine. I just don't think we should be reading a card that was meant for someone else."

JJ tenderly presses the roses back into their original position, and the way that she's being so careful with them is somehow the thing that breaks you.

A couple of sobs tear their way from you before you can make it out of the bullpen, and it's Reid who finds you in one of the interrogation suites, fighting for air. You're crying like your heart is broken, and you just hope to god he can't tell.

"I'm just," You take a deep breath. "I'm just on my period. And I think it's so sad that the person they're meant for won't get them."

Reid is so taken aback that he just clears his throat and nods. When you make your way back to your desk, you can tell that everyone is watching, like you're an animal who's been hit by a car but is still trying to cross the road. The roses are in a vase on JJ's desk, and there's Midol and chocolate on yours.

"Reid told us you were-" Elle says, and you can tell from her tone that she'll never forgive you. She nods at the painkillers. "Hotch got them for you."

Hot embarrassment burns in your veins, and you don't know how you'll ever be able to show your face here again.

Later, Elle corners you in the bathroom, her back against the door so no-one else can come in.

"This," She gestures between you and her. "-is over. That was insane."

"Elle-"

She turns to leave.

"There was never anything here anyway!" You yell, not caring who hears. "A million times, I asked what I meant to you, and you never told me. You never said 'I love you'. We hide in parked cars in dark alleyways and you're so goddamn embarrassed of me that you never even look at me. Half the time I feel like you wish I was dead. Like I'm this inconvenience that you tolerate. One day you're going to wake up in a loveless marriage with some guy who thinks you're the love of his life, and he's going to buy you roses and you're going to swallow it all down and smile and pretend you're happy and you won't be! You'll be fucking miserable because you can't accept that you and I are the same," You're breathless as you finish, and your shoulders are heaving. "You can't accept that you love women like you think you should love men. And God, if you lose me, that's fine, because I know you don't give a damn, but fuck, I don't want to watch my best friend lose the rest of her life because she can't look in the mirror and call things what they are."

She's silent, the door slightly ajar. You'd been watching her face so intently that you hadn't noticed that she'd opened it.

You close your eyes, take a breath, and push past her, slipping through the door. You know she won't chase you. You've run a million times and she never has. A thousand ultimatums never changed anything.

Hotch is right outside, staring, his mouth agape.

You throw your gun and badge at his feet, and leave without a second glance. He's calling your name, but you don't hear Elle's under his baritone, so you don't care.

There's a sick feeling of relief, of freedom, as you unlock your car door and drive home, knowing all of the things that had been certain this morning are in the past now, knowing that all of a sudden, none of your tomorrows will look like today or the day before. The BAU is in your rearview mirror, and you know it'll stay there. You know that as soon as you make it home, it'll all come crashing down, all of the grief, all of the ending-feelings landing at once, all of the last two years imploding. You'll never wake up next to her again. All of the almosts, all of the 'maybe she'll change', the uncertainty finally answered. And it's not the answer you wanted, but at least it's an answer. But for now, you're driving with the windows down, and with every breath you take, you remember what you deserve. You remember that it looks nothing like Elle.

[lt-taylor7]

i have a headcanon about Javi Rivera

He knows NOTHING about the actual car aspect of the storm par truck. (The Lion) if anything goes wrong with the actual tech part? Nah he’s fine he has no problem. But god forbid it goes unbalanced, or the oil change light comes on? He’s got no idea what to do.

(not proofread, bad grammar, GN reader, just a blurb that got too long)

that’s where you come in, a small local shop owner, one of the only in Oklahoma with a four post hoist. He had no idea what that means but he knows you specializes in heavy weight vehicles, and at a good price for its quality. So here he was, pulling the rig into the front of your shop, rushing in with a hand through his hair.

“can I help you?” You ask with a small laugh at his frantic state, washing some oil off your hands with an already dirty rag. He looks up at you, unsure as to what to say frantically searching for his words. “My truck- it’s custom- the tires.” You put a hand up and cut him off, “Javi Rivera, The big ram right?” You ask, remembering the booked consultation. He let out a relieved sigh, “yeah.” He said, his shoulders visibly dropping. A nervous hand through his hair again, “it needs an oil change and I was thinking of putting it on all season tires but I wasn’t sure if it would fit the truck well, or if I can even change them without rotations-“ he rambled, this time you let him go until he let out a large sigh and looked at you, “sorry it’s just, I’m not good with the actual truck aspect of the rig.” You smiled, “people come in here alot worse then you don’t worry. So your trucks just on summer tires? Oil change is no problem but those might cost you a pretty penny depending what your looking for.” You explained, picking up a sales book from behind your counter, flipping through until you found tires in stock, finding a few larger tires.

it took a while but the rig was finally up on the hoist, you could see Javi looking through the reception window into the shop as you walked past, you opened it, “wanna come in? I can tell the rig means a lot. She’s in safe hands.” You say, holding the door for him as he nervously steps in, unsure of where to sit or stare. You worked quickly as you mounted the tires into new rims, before tossing each tire into the balancer, he watched your work in awe. “How did you do that so quickly?” He asked as you lifted a tire under each arm. “Been doin’ it since high school, pretty much muscle memory.” You say with a shrug as you drop the tires under the truck, bringing the other two over.

There wasn’t any talking as you quickly pulled off the old tires, quickly labeling them with chalk, before lifting the new ones on. Waiting to torque them until it was on the ground. “That’s all it takes to change a tire?” Javi asks as you walk over to a large cabinet, searching for the oil you needed. “Yeah, then I torque them once it’s on the ground.” You said as you got under the truck again, sliding a catch pan under the rig, Pulling off the cap, letting it drain.

—-

it wasn’t long before the rig was back on the ground, You torqued the tires before jumping into the drivers seat, just barely turning the key. “What are you doing?” Javi asked as he came over to the side of the door. “Gotta run through the safety checklist after every oil change, just to make sure everything is in working order.” You explained as you looked at the reflection to make sure all the back lights were working as well, and the wipers. You checked off everything before signing off and putting on a new oil change sticker. “So your gonna need some blinker fluid but other then that she’s good to go.” You said as you pulled the keys from the ignition. “Blinker fluid?” He asked, “I’ve never had to replace that, Is there any kind?” His response made you laugh, “Javi, Blinker fluid doesn’t exist.” You said still laughing as a hand laid on his shoulder, Shooting warmth through his bloodstream. “Oh- yeah yeah right I knew that.” He said nervously.

(I miss my mechanic job so much)

[val-made-a-mistake]

i have to laugh at how shit of a day i’ve had. i’m violently hungover, more so than i expected i would be, i had to present a group project that everyone fought about and no one worked together on and it was (expectedly) a disaster, oh yeah and both my car and my house were egged last night so my windshield is covered in white shit that won’t come off with wiper fluid and there’s egg shells everywhere on my lawn :(

[blubushie]

Hi! Hope things with the kittens keep improving, glad they have a foster mom. Hope you are able to get some sleep.

I have a question:

I want to get into doing my own maintenance on my car. I value independence and don't especially like going to a mechanic to get simple stuff done (although I see the value in someone much more experienced than I am). Do you have any advice on how to get started with that?

I have a 2007 PT Cruiser (he's blue, named Toby and I love him more than life and want him to live forever. I know he's not the best car, but I love him). I currently have a piece (windshield wiper switch went out, desert fried it) that needs to be put in (in PT Cruisers the switches on them tend to go out a lot, common problem). It's plug-and-play from what I've seen, although people recommended disconnecting the battery, so the airbag does not accidentally go off. Would this be a good place to start, or would changing oils be a better starting place?

I don't own much in way of tools beyond a very basic toolbox, and have very limited options in terms of workspace. Any advice is appreciated, you're the master of tools and cars.

Hope you are doing well, and that the days get less stressful

-📚

I'll admit I've never owned or worked on a car that new, so I'm actually not sure. If it's just a plug then it sounds simple enough, and if it's just a wiper switch then it's not like you're fucking with the boiler room. So yeah, I'd give it a shot (and defo disconnect the battery first). Here's hoping the ENTIRE faceplate doesn't have to come off to access the underplate cuz that's a pain even in my old truck.

Also, tip: take photos of everything you take off AS you take them off. Makes putting things BACK together much easier.

But also–

Learn to change your own oil, learn to check your own sparkplugs, and learn to change a tyre if you don't know already. The tyre one is most important. Tyre → oil → sparkplugs. Then it's checking transmission fluid, checking steering fluid if you have power steering, checking coolant in your radiator, and knowing what a good engine sounds like. And also knowing what a miss feels like in a cylinder (slight jerk of the wheel).

Also, if you got cash, get a 1/2in insert socket wrench and a stick of 1/2in insert sockets in assorted sizes.

You'll do fine anon. <3

[house-of-lovin]

omg i remember you saying something about one of Rs hobbies being cars and i just saw that one anon say that all the asks are based around R and J when the get together. i was thinking that maybe during another one of their petty spats/disputes where they are holding a grudge against each other over something minor, one day J calls R (begrudgingly may i add) cuz her car’s not starting and it’s making noises and she’s all like “i hate to call you right now but my dad is too busy and you’re the only other person who i know that really knows cars, can you help” and R laughs but accepts the task anyway (cuz she’s so in love with J and can never say no to her obvi especially when she’s in distress).

she gets there and J’s all like “oh the car is making noises and it won’t start” R gets to work and they are actually conversing like normal humans whilst R is getting to work on the car and she checks under the car nothing seems to be the problem there and then she checks under the hood and finds a bobby pin in one of the parts and J’s like “oh must’ve gotten in there when filling up the window wiper fluid” and R’s laughing then she goes to try to start the car and sees it’s still not starting. R sees that the car key is not fully going into the keyhole and finds a cocomelon sticker jammed in the keyhole that one of j’s cousins/family members must’ve put in there.

R’s probably just laughing at the irony of how little things cause such a big problem and J is probably thinking the same but covering her face in embarrassment and they realise they should probably apologise to each other and maybe they do maybe they don’t cuz once again they are too stubborn. btw this was just a thought, you don’t have to do but i’ve been dwelling on this idea too much not to let it out.

p.s. if you’ve listened to the song i put in my last ask ‘sampha’s plea’ please tell me your thoughts on it, only if you’ve listened to it of course if not don’t feel rushed. have a great day💗.

-🐻

oh this is so cute 😭😭

R would def still come through for J even if they’re fighting.

and yes i did listen to the song! it’s one of those songs that’s gonna take me a couple listens 🤣

[earthtomica]

meet mica

Mica is a 1994 Mitsubishi Delica L300 imported from Osaka, Japan. This year marks her 30th birthday, which in car years makes her a major grandma with six years of life experience on the both of us. As with any of our elders, we have learned an immense amount from her already - she is a little stubborn, tough as hell, and gives back even more to us than we unto her.

When we met Mica, she was imprisoned by the horrifying confines of a used car dealership. With no rust we could tell she had good bones, but she seemed neglected and we had to do something about it. Plus, considering we were running on a fresh-out-of-college budget, it didn’t hurt that she cost much less coin currency than her similarly imported siblings. We drove five hours to go pick her up and purchased her without hesitation (after spending four hours on the phone with insurance). We love insurance agents! They are so respectful of your time and so helpful in convincing you that you will cause $150k in damage to a local bridge. Finally we were on the road home as full of excitement and spirit as two young people could possible be driving their brand-new-super-old future home on wheels. Surely the only challenges would be steering from the wrong (right) side of the road and the 65mph top speed.

Halfway home, we took a mandatory Subway pitstop, ready to tackle the last couple of hours in the dark. Oh yea, we forgot to mention that the forecast leading into this weekend was a winter storm. But anyways, we forged on with hope in our hearts and Subway in our stomachs. At a certain point we noticed that the windshield wipers were slowing down a bit - “must just be the heavy wind and rain”, we said. Kept going. A little while later the headlights looked dim on the pitch black road- “our first upgrade should be new headlights”, we said. Kept going. After a few more minutes, the rapidly dropping fuel gauge needle caught our eyes - “FUCK”, we said, as the naivety finally started to fade. We had just filled up, so either we had a gaping hole in our fuel tank, or something worse… Surprise! It was something worse.

Internally full panic mode, externally calm. Neither of us would dare say a word.

Enter, Saugerties, NY. A small town off the highway which now holds a very specific spot in our hearts. We pulled into a gas station with relief and shut the car off. Mind you, this was still our first time taking this grandma out for a spin, and the first time this grandma had been out for a proper spin since we were born. After gathering ourselves and laughing at what might have been the scariest drive either of us had ever taken, we tried cranking her up again…

nothing.

The rest of the story isn’t underwhelming, but for the sake of the tumblr character limit, we'll just say it involves no ubers or AAA due to a state of emergency for the impending winter storm (which never came), a very kind gas station clerk who may have accidentally shorted our battery but also gave us food and water (guess we looked desperate), our first trip in a cop car (if you didn’t know you can’t let yourself out from the inside), a two night stay at a very comfortable Comfort Inn, and more auto shop phone calls than we have ever made in a 48 hour span (previous record: 0).

Eventually we were picked up by an extremely kind lady named “Mom” and she took us back home while Mica was towed to the only local shop which would dare take an old diesel van. The shop was great, but held onto Mica for over three months just to replace the alternator (the primary culprit) and change a few fluids. Despite being restless from our time apart and dented by a large bill, we were eager to dive into the abyss of building a mobile-home-studio-temple-spaceship. And thus commences over a year of dusk-till-dawn work, non-stop learning, unlearning, and a newfound friendship with Murphy’s Law…

TN KM

[dothemacarena]

This morning I went to head to work but felt something wrong with my car before I got out of the driveway.

Flat Tire

Decide to just call in sick instead of borrowing roommates car or calling an uber because I have been wanting a mental health day and I can use the time to change the tire.

Now I know how to change a tire, but I have never done it fully myself. I have had my dad with me in the past. And I could get help from the aforementioned roommate, but I want to prove to myself that I am a strong independent woman who can change her own tire if it is ever needed on a road trip when I don't have a roommate handy.

Task 1: get the spare out of the trunk.

I have to remove a few things from my trunk (oil, wiper fluid, emergency blanket, jumpers, car powered air pump) but I get to the secret tire easy enough. Getting the tire out is a little harder then is supposed to be. There is supposed to be a rope wrapped around it that can be used to pull it out of the perfectly wheel sized hole but apparently whoever last put the spare in forgot it, but with a little work I get it out. Not too bad off to a good start.

Task 2: Get the stupid lug covers off.

I don't know if all cars have these but my car has these little plastic covers over the lugs that have to be removed before a tire iron can be used. (theft deterrent?) They have a little hole in the center where you stick a allen wrench or screw driver to pry them off. I spend way longer than I felt like it should take getting them off and I partially broke one in the process, but I have spares in the glove box.

Task 3: loosen the lugs.

This is the part that I always though would be the hardest, the think most likely to prevent me from changing my tire in the real world. I have a four way tire iron, and the spare came with another one, but my dad always said the four way ones were better so I put it on a lug. I stand on top of it, I jump up and down on it, I jump up and down on it more.

Nothing. Not a single inch of give. If I was on the side of a highway this would have to be when I give up either calling someone for a rescue or hopefully some friendly guy in a truck has pulled over to help me because I simply can't exert more force.

Luckily this did not happen on the highway it happened at home in our garage full of things. So plan #2 I climb up to the other half of our garage (which is usually up three steps but the steps broke so it is just one BIG step right now) I look for a metal pipe for more leverage. None to be found. Lots of PVC, but I think the PVC will give out before the bolt turns. I grab a piece and try it anyway I get a good amount of bend in the PVC and stop there before I break it. PVC is a no go.

Plan #3 I climb back into the upper garage, return the PVC pipes and grab a big sledge hammer to try hitting the tire iron. I get a few good whacks in, but it doesn't seem to be working. It's a dud. I return the sledge hammer trying to think of a plan #4. I climb down from the upper garage and notice something I missed before a length of metal pipe hidden amongst the big exercise equipment that never gets used this could be it!

Plan #4 the pipe is kinda rusty , pretty thin metal, and it doesn't fit on the tire iron, but luckily it does fit on the other tire iron 🎉. I slide it on and get to work. It is still hard. I still have to stand and jump on it, and it makes several disconcerting noises and cracks as I go (it is thin rusty metal after all) but I do it I get them loosened enough that I can turn them each without using the pipe extension or jumping. Plan 4 succeeds and I mentally note to buy a length of pipe for my trunk.

Task 4: Jack shit up

I have the jack that came with my vehicle/spare and it has a little sticker on it showing how to position it. I put it in place, put on the crank and crank it up. It is a little tedious and tiring but not to bad. Now that the really hard physical part is done and the less physically taxing possibly complicated step is complete it should be smooth sailing.

Task 5: Remove the lugs

Since I loosened all of the lugs pretty far earlier this goes fairly quick and easy, though my fingers are starting to ache. (it doesn't help that I went rock climbing last night). I get the lugs all off and in a pile for later.

Task 6: Removing the wheel

This by all means should be the easiest part. Everything that holds the wheel on has already been removed. I pull the tire. It doesn't budge. I re-grip and pull from a different spot. Still nothing. Maybe if i pull from the rim. Nope. I am getting frustrated at this point. I kick the tire and rim several times from different angles. Still on.

I go inside to eat lunch and try to look up if there is something I'm missing. Wiki-how says if the wheel is stubborn to hit around the rim with a rubber mallet. After eating I grab one and go whack it. I repeat several cycles of hitting it with the mallet, kicking it, and trying to pull it off. I am making no progress. I climb into the upper garage again and grab some WD-40. I spray it where the lugs used to be. I wait a few minutes and repeat a few more cycles of hitting with the mallet and kicking and pulling. I have now spent almost as much time trying to remove the wheel that is not attached as I spent loosening the lugs.

Stage 7: Acceptance

I give up. My will is strong, but my body is less so. I go inside back to my computer leaving the car jacked and the lugs off. My roommate is in the middle of a long conference call and will be busy until later, but once it is done he will help me. I must accept that in this I cannot be a strong independent woman who don't need no man.

How lucky then to live in a world where I know kind men that will help.

I write a tumblr post while my roommate finishes up work for the day.

[jesuisgourde]

ugh it looks like im gonna have to scrap my car and get a new (used) one

it's $1.5k just to get it out of the tow lot (the guy lied to me when i asked if it accrued cost over time lol) and $150 to get it towed to a mechanic, plus whatever work they have to do which includes fixing a bent wheel housing/bearing/whatever it's called and maybe fixing my hood and bumper if they're too bent, plus my windshield wiper fluid tubes were already disconnected because the mechanic i went to before was shitty, and i think even before all this i suspected something was leaking and also sometimes there was a weird buzzing noise plus this car is 23 years old had a previous owner before my family and then my grandfather owned it then my mom then my brother then me so like all in all it probably would be a better investment just to get a new car. it still fucking sucks though. money is evil and so is the lack of good public transportation.

[tiny-buzz]

Top 10 "Regis On The Red Carpet" Moments:

Regis sets a new Hollywood Red Carpet Record by praying 5 times toward the Kaaba during the premiere of Ice Age 2.

Regis interviews a mid-level celebrity on the projects that they're working on, their dress, whether or not they're having a good time, and the quality and shape of their most recent bowel movement.

Regis arrives at the red carpet at 3 a.m., asks, "Hey! Where is everybody!" and then later fires his assistant

Regis Philbin, complimenting Scarlett Johansson in 2009 after her appearance in Vicky Cristina Barcelona, asked ScarJo to rank every race on earth in ascending order of attractiveness, and screamed "WRONG" as loudly as he could whenever her rankings different from his own, which he had gotten preemptively tattooed on his forearms in a secret language.

Regis accidentally ingests a Cannabis Gummy and ends up eating an entire XL Pepperoni Pizza on the Red Carpet Premiere for Inspector Gadget

Regis, confused by his TomTom, is routed to the Autozone instead of the Oscars red carpet event, where he was due to start interviewing Hollywood's most glamorous stars. Regis, ever the optimist performer, is famous for his quick thinking and ability to pivot to any situation that may happen in Showbiz. Regis topped off his washer fluid and swapped out his wiper blades, which were nearing end of life with marginal performance levels. He needed assistance affixing the wiper blades for which he tipped the Autozone employee a crisp two dollar bill that had Regis's face on it. The employee later tried to use this bill for goods and services and was arrested by the FBI.

In an epic Oscar Night 2009 "The Show Must Go On" moment for the ages, Regis quickly improvises to cover for production crew's major boo-boo in ordering a white carpet instead of a red one. With only an hour until showtime, Regis has to think fast. Luring superstar Brittany Murphy to a secluded corner of the Chinese Theater, he brutally murders her with his bare hands, using a rope, proceeds to drain all the blood from her body into an industrial paint sprayer, and then saves the day by speedily blasting the white carpet with "all natural and organic red dye." The vibrant color wows and astounds the audience at home, and the Academy later awards Regis its highest honor, inducting him into The Order of the Gray Owl in a private ceremony, and later assists in devising a scheme whereby the public will be mislead about Murphy's death, later in the year.

Regis shoves MachoMan in the chest after MachoMan accosts Mean Gene. MachoMan responds by grabbing Mean Gene and taking him to the ceiling rafters. MachoMan the jumps up and down causing the rafters to slant downwards. Regis, determined to save his love, races up the rafters, while MachoMan begins throwing barrels to stop Regis. Regis jumps over one barrel, then another, then accidentally falls back to the ground floor and starts again. These Red Carpet events would later be retold in the Bob Hoskins movie "The Long Good Friday".

"They're calling them Sonic the Sexhog, George, and before you can ask, yes, they're fast — as fast as ever — but they're also titillating."

In 1992 Regis spilled his nacho chips on the red carpet which threatened to halt the event until the mess could be cleaned up. Regis, ever the blue collar, boots on the ground showman, got down on his hands and knees and slurped up the nacho cheese right off the carpet, like a dog. Tom Arnold, at first laughing at the outrageous sight, decided to pitch in and got down like a hog in slop, licking up the molten cheese. Soon Jack Nicloson and Jodie Foster and the entire red carpet joined in and Hollywood had a big laugh as the crowd cheered. Many stars would later be sickened by this event with and lose their lives to an antibiotic resistant bacteria, which was memorialized in a segment during the 1993 Oscars.

Regis commits a faux pas in 2001 when he interviews newly-elected President George W Bush, then only two months into his first term, and asks him if he has any plans for his administration, and when Bush bemoans his ambitious-yet-unrealistic desire to install a techno-surveillance state that can see into the lives and minds of every citizen, Regis challenges him to create a false flag attack to install fear into the nation. "That way, the vox populi shall not shout in opposition to your plans, but rather beg for their implementation; they will cry out to be surveilled, like a young baby mewling for their mother." An onlooker to the dialogue, a young student under the tutelage of Parmenides, provides the only account thereafter: George W. Bush stood in quiet contemplation for several moments, then kissed Regis on the cheek, and whispered a message to him that is lost to history.

In 2011, a clearly confused/disoriented Regis roamed the Red Carpet, asking stars and starlets alike to "point him in the direction of the Skankin’ Caverns,” which we all know, as the State teaches us, is a fictional place of mischief, used only in parables to frighten children into compliance. Even the very notion of a genre of music that is characterized by a walking bass line accented with rhythms on the off beat is absurd. There is not now, nor will there ever be, “sk*” music.

In 2019 Regis had an “egg on the face” moment when he barged into the handicapped restroom at the Oscars and saw none other than P!nk taking an enormous watery dump. "Ha ha, that's quite a B.M., P!nk!" Regis opined. "Mind if I tell my viewers?"

In 2023, November 22nd, Regis wandered the streets of Newark, screaming "Regis Weekend has been extended until Thursday, November 23rd." He's doing it right now, laying down red carpet as he goes. Find him. Catch him

[clonedadplo]

Hey I'm a huge loser so I write poetry sometimes, super lame I know, anyway for some reason I felt compelled to write a poem about Sam Winchester's lack of bodily autonomy, addiction, probable orthorexia, etc.

Sorry for this tbh hah hah hah

My Brother's a Mechanic but I'm a Bad Driver

My car never ran too well to start but I’m not sure why since I’ve had it from new.

There must have been an issue during manufacturing.

I had barely had it for a few months when someone put the wrong fluid down the wrong pipe.

Oil in the coolant chamber or something.

The brakes got worn down, the oil got burnt up, the wipers started to flap.

All of that is normal I’m told so I fixed it right up and the car kept on.

The transmission started to go, my brother gave it a flush and told me not to worry.

I figured it was fussy and decided I’d take better care of it.

I only put full synthetic in it, though my brother said it didn’t need it.

It had gotten some scratches so I buffed them out.

I sealed it up with rust protectant and gave it a whole new paint job.

The radiator started to leak so my brother replaced it.

I found out I had already blown a head gasket so I put Blue Devil in to seal it up.

Turns out it just made the car overheat again.

Turns out my radiator is partially plugged into the heater core.

My uncle owns a salvage yard but I’ve used up all his extra parts for my make.

See the thing is; I really am a bad driver.

I banged the undercarriage on a speed bump and scraped a hole in the exhaust pipe.

After that I wondered if I could just give up on it but my brother said I had to keep this one.

I got hit and crushed the wheel frames and the rear bumper.

After fixing that I found out it had knocked things loose in the electrical system as well.

I ran over a downed street sign and mangled the control arm and the tire rod.

After that I didn’t want the car anymore.

I want to set it on fire. I keep putting premium oil in it anyway.

The car might just be cursed because I’m not the only one who's ruined it.

I loaned it to someone else and they nearly totalled it.

I gave it to someone who said they might be able to fix it.

I tried to get it back after they fixed most of the damage but he didn’t want to return it.

I don’t know why he would want such a tired, busted car but we got it back.

The new camshaft cracked from being put in too roughly.

I don’t want this car anymore.

It’s a good thing my uncle’s a mechanic.

It’s a great thing my brother’s a mechanic.

Unfortunately, I don’t think I should be driving much longer.

In case you can't tell I like to work on cars lmao.

Gif credits to no one cause I actually had to make my own this time to get the scenes I want. Ugh jeez, what suffering.

YT videos I used credit to: FanofSpn and Winchester's Journal.

Thanks if you read!, And sorry if was shite was kind of dumping some personal problems/struggles as well.

[berrycobbler]

[ID: a series of quotes which read as follows:

My girlfriend and I both love to read on vacation. Once, on a camping trip, I finished my book early. She was halfway through a hefty novel and ripped out the first hundred pages to give to me. This tradition of giving each other “leaflets” has allowed us to share our favorite books, and the trips we read them on, that much more closely.

– Laura Birnbaum, Washington, D.C.

Today, every day, and on Valentine’s Day, I will visit my wife of 56 years. We are separated by her dementia. I will tell her what’s been going on outside, as I spoon-feed her in her care-home hospital bed. She says, “Thank you,” when I tell her I love her. We both know she would say more, if only she could. We have had a great life together, ever since the second grade. She is slowly leaving, I know that. But we’re a pair until then.

– Gene Lock, Sacramento, Calif.

My husband is Filipino, and I am not, so I learned to cook pancit, a noodle dish his mother made. It makes him happy. We cut vegetables, chop meat, then assemble the dish, always refining our understanding of it. It’s like love — it gets better every time.

– Muffie Alejandro, Los Angeles

We say, “I love you” every time one of us leaves the house. It seems small, but after almost 17 years of marriage, I would feel like I had left my keys behind if I hadn’t said it.

– Kate Reymann, Salt Lake City

I have half a banana for breakfast, and my husband always carves a heart on the cut end.

– Jill Black, Kalispell, Mont.

When my cancer diagnosis recurred this fall, my husband of 54 years began folding 1,000 origami cranes. Legend says that they will bring good luck and good health. We have installed them in our hallway as a constant reminder of hope and joy. They are beautiful to look at, and they also seem to be working, as I am responding to treatment.

– Jane Berke, Alpharetta, Ga.

I hate the sound of liquids being stirred or shaken. So whenever my husband stirs or shakes something, he shouts, “La la la la!” to protect my sensitive ears. (I’ve actually learned to manage my aversion, but I don’t tell him, because I think his off-tune singing is adorable.)

– Emily Strahler, Bethlehem, N.H.

Offhandedly, my husband said that he felt loved when his socks were ready to put on. Since then, I roll his socks into pairs.

– Chris Jacques, Golden, Colo.

My husband loves new bars of soap, so when I need to replace mine, I take his and give him the new one.

– Shannon Moise, British Columbia, Canada

My husband of 30-some years lets me put my cold hands on his body to warm them. We are a husband-and-wife oyster-farming team, so in the winter this is especially endearing.

– Cindy West, South Kingstown, R.I.

Every time my girlfriend calls me, I answer the phone by saying, “It’s the most beautiful woman in the world!”

– Jeremiah Whitten, Minneapolis

My husband and I got married on June 7, 30 years ago. Every month on the seventh, we like to wish each other a happy anniversary — and be the first to do it. Most often, he beats me to it.

– Patricia Davis, Westbrook, Conn.

My husband always makes sure that my car’s gas tank is full, the windshield wipers are in good shape and the fluids are topped off. That’s his way of telling me that he’ll never leave me stranded.

– Diane Norman, Herndon, Va.

I was diagnosed with a vitamin D deficiency a few years ago. My husband began taking out two capsules and leaving them for me in a tiny dish in our bathroom. It was a gentle reminder to take my vitamins and stay healthy. The gesture feels like a very sweet, “I love you.” When I take the pills and he’s in earshot, I say, “I love you, too.”

– Cynthia Copeland, Pasadena, Calif.

For more than 21 years, my husband has given me the last bite of his dessert, always.

– Jennifer Grissom, Los Angeles

My precious husband, to whom I was married for 46 glorious years, passed away six years ago. But not a day has gone by since when I haven’t blown a kiss to the photograph of him that I keep on my bedroom table.

– Karen Strauss, New Rochelle, N.Y. /end ID.]

The New York Times did a piece titled 100 Small Acts of Love and these are some of my favorites 💕

[lifewithoutmeds]

March 4, 2024

Hm, it's been about a week since I last wrote. that's encouraging. this feels regular, somewhat consistent. it usually isn't a good sign when i either write too frequently or too infrequently.

Recap: Monday, February 26: Ended up going to Tam O'Shanter with Patti around 7pm. she kinda loved it. we had some drinks, prime ribs, and shared a sticky toffee cake thing a la mode. i drank a bit too much but it was okay having ubered. should note not to drink white wine though. low key kind of hate it, especially the nausea the next day.

Tuesday, February 27: In office day, and Joyce provided lunch. i think we had sandwiches. i bussed into work and back, and picked up my car. it ended up being a battery issue and he did not seem to acknowledge that i had a windshield wiper fluid issue but whatever.

Wednesday, February 28: can't think of anything. work.

Thursday, February 29: work, and walked over to the local library at lunch to print out my livescan application.

Friday, March 1: pretty busy. Got gas at Costco, had a 9am appointment in Burbank for my livescan for volunteering at the shelter, handwashed my car for about an hour at the coin op car wash in glendale, and then met up with Patti at 11a.m. at my favorite thai massage place, followed by lunch at Night Market Song, then a loop around the silver lake reservoir. it was a nice time, with good conversation, and i left around 3:30pm to avoid traffic.

Saturday, March 2: just slept. all day. watched youtube. didn't do anything. slept some 11-12 hours.

Sunday, March 3: too much. church in the morning, lunch with my mom, descanso gardens with grace y and caroline, then off to long beach for a dinner party at stephen's, including amir, and some others, for a total party of 9. it was pretty fun, and everyone was nice. i felt that amir might've been uncomfortable, but that's likely because he felt out of place being either the only or one of two straight people at the party.

today was a productive day. worked, washed dishes, checked on Thor three times, handwashed a couple items of clothing, took a morning walk and a nice long lunch walk. ate yogurt, granola, and fruit for breakfast, a giant pasta lunch, and then some salad for dinner. balance.

the week ahead: trader joe's for groceries, withdrawing some cash for next week's massages with lana and a haircut for myself sometime this month. a birthday dinner for lana on saturday with 4-5 of her friends, and hopefully church on sunday. i also need to file my taxes and some sort of IRS filing for my little defunct LLC.

i'm lately feeling the need to mature. to think before i speak. to not just be spastic and quirky and undisciplined. i remember when i was in 7-8th grade and i would see the senior girls and think wow, so poised, so elegant, it'll be so neat to be a senior and transform into that. and i didn't. i was still super scruffy, hair messy, clothes unkempt, runny nose, just kinda gross. and now....i'm afraid not much has changed. but it's really time that i grow up. that i stop having to apologize for offending people, that i stop throwing myself impulsively at people who will not have me, at drinking too much, then crying too much, then hiding in shame.

i'm also realizing that lately the thing that i'm most self-conscious about is my appearance, and more recently, my weight. i feel that in general, i would look better thinner/fitter, and that especially clothes would look better on me. even if i saw an item of clothing that i thought looked good on the hanger, or on a model, i know that that will not translate onto me, and it makes me want to avoid shopping, and just in general feeling left out of that whole equation.

in other respects though, things seem to be chugging along. more routines, more structure, more writing, more cleaning, chipping away at the physical messes in my life. i deep-cleaned my car over the weekend and wiped down as much i could of the interior, and it felt like a relief to have that thin layer of dirt cleaned off.

i also bought some aerosol spray so i could clean off my laptops, and just ordered some electronics screen spray so i could clean my monitors as well. i'm just feeling a need and desire to just get to the things that i've been putting off. to get into those corners. to address the seemingly sagging portions of my ceiling, to replace the piping under my kitchen sink, to get a window guy to fix up some of the malfunctioning windows.

in the meantime, i have work and chores during the week, and usually 1-2 social functions on the weekends, one coworking day with danielle a month, and just .... just chugging along i guess.

it still feels like remarkable process though from 6 months or a year ago. i even considered briefly restarting up the self-improvement youtube, but ... who knows. i'll need to take down the videos where i'm just sobbing inconsolably. but even just the whisper of a thought to restart that was interesting to me.

it feels like progress.

[lovelandfrogispookybear]

7: Water

Eddie's pov

Time here is weird. It always either feels too fast or too slow, but  now it seems much easier with another person. Getting to know this little kiddo has been interesting, she is quite a character. Just a few days ago, we talked about piercings and tattoos. I tried to explain why some people were a fan of "being mean to their skin" (her words, not mine), but she shut me down and said she would never try it. Which is understandable, but it surprised me that she had never heard of it. I suppose it was like music to her, she just didn't know.

Speaking of music, ever since Otto brought me back Lucy, music is all she's been begging to hear.

"More sing, Eddie!" It does seem the more she listens the more she talks, but she still has her secrets. Every few days-

"Oh, Eddie, song later. I leave now."

She stands up, and scuttles out the crack in the wall. Sometimes she's gone for a few hours, sometimes it's a few days. She always comes back safe, if she had any bruises or cuts they're all gone, and she almost always comes back with food in tow.

I'm about to lay back and try to sleep, but Otto hurriedly comes back in.

"Eddie! Eddie! Water!" She smiles excitedly, and grabs some empty containers.

"Is it raining?" I ask, sitting up.

"No, no raining." Otto grabs my arm, and drags me outside. We quietly maneuver through vines, and eventually hit a large, worn down brick wall. It looks like one of the outside walls of the high school. There are lines of cars, almost as if school was still in session.

"In car, water." Otto walks over to a run-down pickup truck, and pops the hood. She scans the interior quickly, and pulls out the white reservoir of windshield wiper fluid. She doubles to the back, and pulls out another. "Water!"

I hold out one of the tubs, and she fills it with water.

"I'm going to check that nice one over there, and work my way down."

Otto shakes her head.

"No. Fancy cars use real clean. Water is for duds, duds no good for real clean," she stumbles over her words.

"The nicer cars can afford the cleaner fluid, and the more busted ones can't, so they use water?" I ask, deciphering her words. Otto nods, and starts at another car. I skip the nice car, and start on a sedan with rusted hubcaps and a missing car door handle.

After about an hour of water gathering, we've filled all ten of our containers and its enough to last us for a while. I stuff them in my bag, and we get ready for the quiet and quick walk home. Suddenly, a thought hits me.

"Otto, what if we move out here?" I suggest.

"What mean?" She asks.

"I mean. what if we make a new home over here. We could go somewhere up high, and we would be safer. We might have to worry about the bats, but I haven't seen many so I think we would be okay!"

"Where here though?" Otto asks. "The home now working."

"Like I said, safer! And I think we would be closer to the water sources, and I bet I could get you some books in the school library." I smile at her, knowing she's been poking around and trying to read.

"Eddie, I will go get our things. You look like there is something you want to do." Otto nods, dashing off. There IS something I want to do. I watch Otto until she disappears, and I start towards the trailer park.

"New home! Excited!" Otto stacks tubs of water. I unload a crate full of towels, and set it down. Otto curls up in the corner for a nap, and I begin to unpack my backpack. As I pull empty cans and bottles out, I think about seeing the spot where I almost died. I guess I was hit so bad I couldn't remember being saved. I remove the old band poster, and stick it to the wall. I scan the bottom of the bag with my hand, making sure nothing got lost.

My fingers hit a bump at the bottom of the bag. Confused, I search around the bottom seam, and eventually hit a small tear. I pull at it, and I find something. A small notebook. I flip it open, and scrawled on the front cover are 3 words. Written by Dustin.

"Holy shit," I whisper to myself. Skimming, I take note of what's written in it. Diagrams, notes. A few pages in, I see a detailed sketch of one of the big ones. Written next to the sketch, in print so small I need to hold my cigarette to it to read it, is a description.

"The Demogorgon is named after Eleven's initial description of the Upside Down using the Party's board and pieces. It's overall nature is comparable to that of a Great White Shark, as it is a highly solitary animal that is attracted to blood. It sometimes eats its prey, though it can also try and use them to create more. It can heal quickly and is mostly impenetrable to everything except fire... it can even create it's own temporary tears between worlds..." I murmur to myself.

I flip the next page, and there's another diagram showing what seems to be the growth stages of this thing. There's a "larval stage", where it looks like a fat worm. Then, it progresses into a bigger, dog-like creature, the one I saw at the beginning, affectionately named "Demodog" by Dustin. Before I can flip another page, Otto jumps onto me. She holds out a piece of trash.

"What color is this?" She asks, handing it to me. It's a sliver of hot pink plastic, probably from a kids toy.

"Pink," I explain, giving it back. Otto looks confused.

"I thought the only colors were red, orange, green, yellow, blue, and purple?"

"Those… how do I explain this… Those are the main colors."

"Main colors?"

"The main colors kind of... make up every other color? I don't really understand it myself, but it's just a thing."

Otto nods, and puts the plastic into a small jar she must have found.

"Saving it?" I ask, chuckling.

"I want to keep every color." She sets the jar down next to her box of punks, and I ruffle her hair.

"That might be hard, Buggo. But I bet you can do it," I smile, watching as she rummages through our things in her search for more color. We spend the rest of the "night" collecting bits and bites for her collection.