fix the car

anonymous asked:

1. Tammi has a fixed baby seat in her car even when F is not there, B doesn't have one in her car when he's not there.. 2. Tammi has a stairs baby gate at her house, B doesn't have one.. 3. Tammi has toys and baby's stuff at her house/ everywhere in her living room, B has nothing and doesn't look like a baby is living there.. 4. Tammi has pictures and frames of Freddie at her house (one taken on Father's Day with the whole fam: Bre/Aust/Tam/ F), B has zero pictures at her house

☕☕☕☕

My proposal for types of ‘Dream Mommy’ characters
  • Library Mommy: library lady trope, wears an overly large sweater and has a collection of pens; doesn’t actually have kids, but sometimes a family can be one woman, two cats, and a netflix account
  • Mechanic Mommy:  ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°) I want her to fix my car; two twin kids that run around, has three tattoos and a barbershop haircut, fixes other gadgets on the side and shows me how to hold a wrench
  • CEO Mommy: pencil skirt, on the phone, gotta work hard to woo her but she will take you to the pier and you’ll ruin the financial lives of several wall street bankers together, Buff™- works out to get rid of stress
  • Ghost Mommy: floats in and out of the game, totally dead, kind of see-through, solve her murder and you unlock some supernatural lovin’
  • Rockstar Mommy: plays the guitar, ripped clothing, responds in grunts, a lil’ tipsy at points in the game and will show you her gauge collection, wears sunglasses 23/7
  • Susan, from accounting: she’ll have to date me eventually
  • Monster Mommy: straight up funky monster lady of your choice, rips her shirt off at least once during the full moon, route involves getting rid of all the silver in your house; her son trades Yugioh cards
5

Book that made me cry like a baby: All the Bright Places - jenniferniven

“You know what I like about you, Finch? You’re interesting. You’re different. And I can talk to you. Don’t let that go to your head.”
“You know what I like about you, Ultraviolet Remarkey-able? Everything.” 

10 Baby Facts for SPN Fic Authors

[I swear this is not a rant - it ISN’T. Honest.]

It is actually kind of cool to realize that you possess specialty knowledge that may be of use to others. Stuff that you didn’t really KNOW you knew, until, of course, you are reading along in a fic and something the author describes (or the character says) brings your brain to a screeching halt. “That’s not right – it can’t possibly happen that way…” And then you go and do actual research to back up your gut knowledge. This little FAQ is the result of one such realization.

My dad fixed antique and classic cars for a living from 1964 – 1978, owning his own showroom for 3 years near the end of that time. Born in 1966, I grew up playing in old cars, hiding in floorboards and exploring them to my heart’s content. Our family car for several years was a 1966 Thunderbird, but when dad went to car shows, we rode in whatever he wanted to show off. I’ve been in rumble seats, hard top convertibles, cars with windshields that laid down flat, and cars with no roof, doors, or walls of any kind. My 1st car was a fully restored 1966 mustang. Without really realizing it, I soaked up a LOT of inherent understandings about older cars. The information below is based in that knowledge, backed up with some internet research.

The following is true about Baby (the character in SPN, not necessarily the actual cars that play her): 

1) Compared to most modern sedans, Baby is BIG. Like REALLY BIG. She is 17 and ¾ feet long (5.4 meters) and 7 feet 8 inches wide (2.03 meters). Allowing for door thickness on either side and the gaps between doors and bench seat, I’m betting the front seat is a little over 5 feet wide. Given basic geometry and human skeletal limitations, this means it is not possible for the passenger to have their head resting against the passenger door/window AND place their hand on the driver’s thigh. If the passenger is in this position, the driver can,  at best, entwine fingers with the passenger’s outstretched hand. That’s IT (even with Sam’s monkey arms). Sitting up straight, yes. Slumped over, no. On the plus side, this is why the guys can, in fact, get some sleep in her (and have fun in the back seat).

2) Despite how big Baby is, she is kinda short. Baby is only 54 inches high (4’6” or 138 cm). INSIDE the car, she is slightly less than 4 feet tall total. This means that the following actions WILL make you bump your head (or butt or hands or feet) on the ceiling unless you are very very slow and careful: climbing over the back seat, straddling someone’s lap, taking off your pants or t-shirt (unless nearly lying down in the seat), and lunging across the front bench seat to attack someone bodily. And you will look graceless doing it. [Ahem, trust me on these, I KNOW.] Additional negative modifiers for Sam due to height.

More below the cut.

Keep reading

Teach your daughters how to fix cars, survive a week in the wilderness, repair a pipe that burst, and love themselves without the frill. 

Teach your sons how to braid hair, bake a homemade pie, sew a hem, communicate raw emotion, and clean a house.

Then teach your daughters to braid and bake and sew and communicate and clean. And your sons to fix cars and survive and repair and love themselves.

And while you do all of that realize that if you choose to confine your child within their gender, you will degrade their potential by 50%.

—  On raising children without gender standards // March 2016
Take Time

“I don’t have time,” Dean says dismissively, when Cas tries to recommend him new books, new movies, new things to share. “Not right now. I gotta work on the car.”

And then it’s, “I gotta make dinner.”

And then it’s, “We kinda have a ghost hunt on, Cas, if you didn’t notice.”

Eventually, Cas just comes and sits beside Dean when he’s soothing the Impala’s latest aching joint; he opens his book, and starts to read aloud. Dean, stuck under Baby with nowhere to go and an exhaust pipe to fix, complains at first - and then listens.

And Cas keeps following him around, reading. To the kitchen, to the car on a trip (”I don’t get travel sick, Dean, it’s fine”) - anywhere Dean goes, Cas will follow after with his voice shaping words and drawing stories in the air.

One afternoon, Cas is sitting on his own bed, quietly - and Dean comes looking for him. “Gotta fix the car,” he says. “You wanna come or what?”

Cas wants to. They move through books fast, the days soundtracked by the soft rustle of pages turning. By the tilt and camber of Cas’ voice. By the quiet noises of surprise and happiness and horror that Dean makes as the tales unravel.

“Don’t stop,” Dean says one night, when he’s about to go to bed. “Just finish the chapter.” And Cas sits at the end of Dean’s bed, and reads.

The next night, he does the same.

At some point, he stops going back to his own room. He sleeps in Dean’s bed. They don’t talk about it - not until one day when they wake up, and both pretend very thoroughly not to have woken up, and carefully move with sleepy gestures, very very sleepy gestures, into each other’s space. Hand a little closer to chest. Hips turned towards hips. Forehead almost - almost - pressed to forehead. Sneaking glances under half-closed lids, measuring distances, until they catch each other looking and open their eyes all the way.

“Hey,” Dean says.

“Hello, Dean.”

Dean smiles.

“We should get up,” Cas says.

“Nah,” Dean says. “We’ve got time.”

Gil, everytime Ryder gets back from a mission involving the nomad, probably: RydeR whaT ThE fUCK

The Cartel (Master List)

BOOGIE NIGHTS AND COLOMBIAN WHITE

It’s 1970′s Florida and the most wicked cartel on the eastern seaboard is at the peak of crime and thievery. Each member designed to execute exactly what they’re meant to - each a cog inside Byun Baekhyun’s well-oiled machine. Every king needs a court though; a worthy entourage to ensure his continued power. In order to deal the cleanest product, sometimes you have to get your hands dirty.


Byun Baekhyun, The Head. Smooth, meticulous, nary a word or hair out of place. Holds nothing dearer than the empire he built with his own two hands - except for the one woman who could bring it all crashing down. 

One Shot by @kpopfanfictrash - Fire ]

Originally posted by luedeer


Kim Minseok, The Pimp. Anything you need done - and done right - you go to Minseok. His hands are everywhere, he knows everything and he’s often the first face you see in the cartel. He also might be your last.

One Shot by @rudeboywonho - Danger Within ]

Originally posted by addtidathida


Kim Jongin, The Diversion. Charm, wit and the face of an angel. Jongin is a man eyes can’t help but be drawn towards. He’ll flirt, he’ll smile - all while quietly robbing you blind. Fond of racing, women and loose morals - you know where there’s Jongin, Yixing can’t be too far behind.

One Shot by @kimnamwho[ Momentum ]

Originally posted by kittihun


Zhang Yixing, The Eyes. When asked why he likes the dark so much, he just says that he does. Simple. Really, it’s because it’s easy to forget your rules when you think no one is watching, or remembering you in the morning but he’s seen you. He’s seen you and, oh - does he remember all your secrets. 

One Shot by @bread-jinie - [ Shortwave ]

Originally posted by 305heaux


Oh Sehun, The Greaser. Better at fixing cars than people, Sehun is the man to know when your vehicle needs to be at the top of its game. Full of sarcastic remarks, random car facts and long gazes - he’s usually found elbow-deep in a machine, a dirty rag tucked into his back pocket. You need a car that’s fast, sexy and damn-near impossible to catch? Oh Sehun’s got you covered. 

One Shot by @imdifferentshadesofpurple - [ Accélérer ]

Originally posted by lullabyun


Do Kyungsoo, The Fed. Because every respectable cartel needs an inside man. He can bust the operation in a matter of minutes, but when the price is right you’ll find a significant amount of evidence lost. The FBI agent with a promising future, only to be dragged down for the sake of his family. But let’s not judge him too hard - a man’s got to eat, after all. 

One Shot by @def-initely-soul - Artifex ]

Originally posted by dazzlingkai


Park Chanyeol, The Bruiser.  If his name doesn’t strike fear into your heart, you haven’t had the chance to meet him face to face. As the muscle of the operations, Chanyeol has one job and one job only: protect Byun Baekhyun. No one so much as looks at the Head without Chanyeol saying so. 

One Shot by @knockknocksoosthere - [ Illusions ]

Originally posted by grinding-on-baek


Kim Junmyeon, The Cleaner. In a group as hot-headed as this, it’s easy for members to forget themselves and leave a trail. Junmyeon is one who makes their problems disappear, who erases them to nothing more than lemon and bleach. When a member wakes up on a boat, stranded with only a snowshoe crab for company - who’s the man that they call? Junmyeon. 

One Shot by @igot7bangtanbaes - [ Erasure ]

Originally posted by veriloquentmind


Kim Jongdae, The Money. Years ago, Jongdae was just another analyst on Wall Street. These days, it’s rare to see him without his Bugatti or penthouse view. In charge of the numbers, analysis and all things paper - Jongdae is the one who protects their funds. Just in case this life of crime should ever come crashing down around them. 

One Shot by @kpopfanfictrash - [ The Money ]  

Originally posted by dragonkick

Mija, serve your brother.

He is a year younger than me. 

We are children. My dad calls me to go outside with him to help fix the car. He needs me to find him a wrench in the garage. The garage is always filled with spiders and he knows I’m afraid. My brother is not. He’s inside playing video games. He doesn’t have to help look. He never has to help look. “You’re better at finding things.” 

Practice makes perfect. 

Mija, serve your brother.

My maternal grandma comes up to visit. The house is still a mess. I juggle honors classes, caring for the baby, caring for my brother, the bulk of the chores. Something had to give. My grandma looks at the house and then at me. “I could just beat you!” She growls. Nothing is said to my brother.

Later, she is helping make dinner. She brought a chicken and wants to show me how to cut it properly. I don’t want to. I’m tired from all the cleaning. She threatens to kick me. My mother says nothing about it. Just “You’ll have to learn to cook for when you have a husband!” My brother continues to play with his toys. 

I drop my honors classes.

Mija, serve your brother.

We’re in high school now. The washing machine has broken. It’s been broken for weeks. We’ve run out of money and can’t afford to go to the laundromat. My dad arranges for his sister to pick us up and take us to his parents house so we can use their washer.

I’ve done my own laundry since I was 12. I wash, dry, and fold and then put them in my hamper. I then decide to go on a walk. I come back hours later. “Thanks for leaving me with all the work!” My mother snaps. My brother is playing with our cousin.

I will not serve my brother. He can serve himself.

I put myself through college. I want a STEM degree. My days revolve around homework, notes, clubs, work. I no longer have time for all the housework. I will not sacrifice my education, my glimmer of a chance out of this nightmare. 

My brother lives on Youtube. He stays on Netflix until the sun rises. He is glued to the couch with the Playstation controller in his hands. Dishes are crusty. The laundry goes undone. The trash piles.The cat shits behind the chair because the litter is too dirty. He doesn’t want to pull his weight around the house.

My parents vent in frustration. 

“Why is your brother so lazy?”