listening in her car

anonymous asked:

My crush was a girl I followed on Tumblr. One day I decided to message her, turns out we live in the same city!! We met up and she asked me out on a date. This was a few months ago and yesterday she told me she she loves me for the first time. She's so beautiful, and funny, and charming. She has short red hair and loves soft music and makes cheesy playlists for us to listen to in the car, and her favourite colour is sea foam green. I love her so much.

This is so beautiful💕

Chapitre 83 - The Final Obstacle

In which the ultimate family roadtrip is an Actual Literal Roadtrip. 



I N C O L O U R.

And this is how you know that Clamp secretly loves me. (For now)

But can we talk about how the family is shamelessly and unapologetically wearing matching shirts? Not even stylish matching shirts, but straight up tourist-shop-esque shirts with tiny feather patterns that THEY ALL AGREED TO WEAR TOGETHER AS THEY DROVE A JEEP THROUGH A SUNFLOWER FIELD. 


Please never show Tomoyo any evidence that this ever took place. 

I can’t believe I had to read the sentence: “But Luke wasn’t a father figure in anywhere other than his head and Lorelai should have made sure he knew that.”

Lorelai literally said/wrote the words: “ Luke has been a sort of father figure in my daughter’s life.” 

It’s almost like this person thinks Rory was forced to spend time with Luke where as it’s the complete opposite. He didn’t have to make her a coffee cake or blow up balloons or come to her birthday parties. He didn’t have to go to her caterpillar’s funeral. He didn’t have to give her his mother’s pearls. He didn’t have to listen to her when she told him the car accident wasn’t Jess’ fault. He didn’t have to let her in the diner when she showed up suddenly when she and Lorelai were estranged. He didn’t have to attend her high school graduation, but she wanted him there “Okay, good, I want you there.” and he wasn’t going to let her down. Her biological dad was not there for any of these events but Luke was! That speaks volumes! He was there because he loves Rory unconditionally! She may not exactly see him a father figure, but she loves him too and if you try to tell me otherwise I will fight you. 

Rory may have had high hopes for Christopher to be a good dad, but he wasn’t and Luke was a good male role model/father like figure in her life! 

To those that have seen Mamo live

I feel like I might lowkey offend someone with this, but I would really like to hear the answer to the question at the end of this post from someone who’s seen Mamo live in concert. Not on DVD, but in the flesh.

Earlier I had this conversation with my sister while I was listening to Frontier album in the car.

Her: “A lot of these songs sound a lot like some western songs. Like this one (New Order) sounds like Ciara’s “Love Sex Magic””

Me: “Well, nowadays it’s hard to make something that doesn’t sound remotely like something else.“

Her: “Don’t you think that these songs are also quite autotuned?”

Me: “No, not him.”

Her: *gives me this look*

Me: “Well, his albums are edited a bit, but he sounds really good live.”

Her; *still giving me this look* “Yeah “live””

Me: “It’s true!”

Now, I’ve always been incredibly amazed by Mamo’s live performances and his amazing vocal range and abilities. But considering I’ve only seen videos, which are by definition not live, I was ill suited to add a reply that would have enough weight to get back to my sister. And that bothered me.

So I’m asking you, fellow Mamo fans who’ve actually managed to see him live, how Mamo sounds without being recorded. I’ve only heard good things about his live shows, and I have no doubt he’s amazing, but I would still like to hear it from you.

I took Isla with me to the Women’s March in Austin last weekend, and she watched the airport protests with me on Facebook live tonight. (Also the video of Ft. Worth police officer William Martin assaulting Jacqueline Craig and Brea Hymond this morning, talking through each step of the encounter and why the officer was wrong and why the situation was unjust.) I make her listen to the news with me in the car every morning on the way to daycare. We’ve been having A LOT of talks about standing up for what is right, Black Lives Matter, protecting immigrants, etc. Tonight when I was putting her to bed she was chanting “Immigrants are welcome here, immigrants are welcome here,” and told me as I kissed her good night, “I love immigrants. Do you love immigrants, Mama?” 

Most of the time I’m not sure I’m a good mom, but if nothing else, IF NOTHING ELSE, I’m pretty sure I’m getting this right. I know so many white people with kids around the same age as Isla who have told me they have tried as much as possible to shelter their children from Donald Trump and racism and all the ugliness in the world. If a 4-year-old black child can’t depend on police to protect and defend them, if a 4-year-old immigrant or child of immigrants has to live afraid they might be separated from their family because of a crackdown on undocumented immigrants, if a 4-year-old refugee is not sure they will be able to get to safety, if a 4-year-old Muslim can see their place of worship burned on the night our president does his dead level best to keep Muslims out of our country, then my 4-year-old white child IS NOT going to be sheltered from their realities.

Her white skin already gives her so much power over other people. I’m more worried about the kind of weapon she could turn into against people of color and Muslims because I stayed silent with her, than I am about “harming” her by telling her the truth. I know our talks may not be perfect, but I cannot let her think what’s happening right now (and has been happening a long time, let’s not kid ourselves) is okay or permissible or to be accepted in silence.

Driving the Impala

Characters: Dean, Reader

Pairing: Dean x Reader (ish)

Word Count: 624

Warnings: Fluff

Author’s Note: As always, feedback is much appreciated!

Originally posted by thewinchesterdaily

“Wait a second… you’re really going to let me drive her?” you asked incredulously.  “You barely let me touch her.”

“Well, I figured it was time.  You’ve been with us for a while, and it’s your birthday, so…” Dean handed you the keys.  “Happy birthday.”

You grabbed the keys out of Dean’s hand, smiled at him, and ran to the driver’s side of the car, squealing in excitement. You got into the car and started her up, listening to the sweet purr of the engine.  You just sat there and admired the beautiful car for a moment. “Are we just going to sit here, or are we going to drive?”

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Yesterday I drove eight hours to Rockford, Illinois, because my heart was soft, and reading and hearing words was no longer enough, and I needed to be next to one of my humans. Her hair is red and her nose is pointy and she sings in the kitchen. Today we drove around and ran errands. We explored a state park and played cards and ran four miles by the Rock River. We listened to music and swooned over her lady and washed our cars and soaked up the sun. My heart is still soft, but right now it feels protected by her strong gay hands.

Breakfast Club

Orphan Brigade [High School Years]: Geoffs boys are growing up fast. They’re attending High School, meeting girls and participating in epic heists. 

Jeremy tried his best to stay out of trouble. He spent all of his time either at gymnastics practise (a sports scholarship was his only hopes of affording college) or working. Basically, he simply didn’t have the time for detention.

So, for the most part, he stayed out of trouble. But sometimes misunderstandings happened and trouble found him.

Which is how he found himself back at his high school on a Saturday morning to complete his detention time.

As he entered the school grounds (on foot since couldn’t afford transportation), he spotted a few other kids being dropped off.

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alkenifanfiction  asked:

Pairing and Prompt: Amy and Faith + adopting a kitten

Their favourite is a little scrawny grey barn rescue that won’t shut up. She crawls up Faith’s arm, mewling the whole time. Amy scratches her behind her ears and she purrs, loudly, little motor revving like she’s in a race.

The shelter workers have taken to calling her Diesel.

“We’re not calling her Diesel,” Amy says firmly.

“I kinda like it,” Faith says. On her shoulder, the kitten is still purring away. “But it hasn’t stuck yet. You got better ideas, A?”

“Maybe Hecate? Or Sage.”


“Hecate? The Greek goddess of magic.”

Faith shrugs. “Sure. What’s wrong with Diesel?”

Amy scoops the kitten off of Faith’s shoulders and cradles her in her arms. “It’s not a name. It’s a fuel.”

“Or an engine.” Faith rests her head against the kitten, and the purring reverberates in her ear. “How about it?” she asks the grey fur in front of her face. “You wanna be Diesel?”

Diesel purrs even louder.

“Fine,” Amy says, pulling Diesel away, “but she’s sleeping on my side of the bed.”

Maybe it’s bricks and mortar now, whether or not they run it down
I don’t want anything to shake that shape away
No one told us which way to come, nobody mapped oblivion
So I go growing roses in the disarray

A vector of LIGHTS because her music has gotten me through, literally, everything. I owe so much to her art ;___;

Once my mum asked me why I liked a song which had ‘so much screaming in’ so we sat in the car and I told her to just listen to the lyrics, listen to what he’s saying. We turned it up and we sat there listening to car radio and it started raining and when it finished she just turned to me and said “I get it now”. I don’t think anything else was needed to be said because that’s what twenty one pilots songs are to me, understanding the lyrics, and the meanings and finding comfort in them.


Charles Schmid fits the mold of a psychopath perfectly. He was charming, reasonably good-looking, and had a talent of handling any sticky situation with no problem at all. He was also very talented in a musical sense, impressing his friends with his effortless singing and guitar-playing. Schmid liked to arrogantly liken himself to Elvis Presley and claimed they could be long-lost brothers.

On the 31st of May, 1964, Schmid casually told his girlfriend Mary French and his best friend John Saunders that he would love to kill a girl just to “see how it feels”. That night, the trio drove to the desert after picking up teenage Alleen Rowe so that Schmid could murder her. Mary French sat in the car, filing her nails and listening to the radio while her boyfriend raped and beat the young high school student to death. After he was done, he asked his now terrified friend if he wanted to rape her too, to which he refused. Schmid shrugged and buried her with the help of his girlfriend. To think that Mary and John didn’t report the crime right away, just shows you how convincing and confident the young psychopath was.

This brutal murder wasn’t enough for the wannabe Elvis, and he carried on slaying young girls across Tuscon, Arizona until he was caught in the late sixties. He strangled to death two sisters, who were the daughters of a prominent heart surgeon. After his arrest, he tried to disguise himself in a bizarre fashion, much like Ted Bundy did. He used lip balm, batter, and make-up to enhance the mole on his left cheek and he used Plasticine in a (miserable) attempt to change the shape of his nose, as you can see above.

Love when I’m trying to enjoy my break and my coworker starts forcing me to listen to her talk about car seats for her kid….
I don’t fucking care???

HEY – put your money where your mouth is, you fucking asswipe!” imogen called to the boy jeering at her as she closed her car door. the boy, naturally, didn’t listen to her and started hurling insults as he walked away, but she wasn’t having any of that. at the speed of light, she’d run up to him, kicked him behind the knees, and run back to her place by her car, all before he could yelp and fall to the ground. when he turned to look at her accusingly, she shrugged and held her hands up. “wasn’t me.”