dixontm-blog

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lydia vc: hi ur my dad now

Pft.Who are you, kid? 

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It wasn't Bowie but it was the right genre, right time, eighties something punk rock and Rebel Yell. He listened to it, when he could, all that glam rock deemed too prissy for him and his like.

Back before, when things weren't so fucked.

Currently, the only thing more annoying than not being able to name the blonde artist responsible for the song, was knowing that Jack was definitely going to get it stuck in his head.

Mick.. Bruce.. fuck what was his name.

"Car needs bumpers for bumper cars. " Daryl paused long enough to press his boot against the nearest fender, snapping it free with a groan of rusted metal and heavily damaged bolts. Like most things around them, the last few years were less than kind and rot had settled in; leaving abandoned cars and trucks along the street to fall to pieces. "'n engines."

Billy Idol. Fuck.

@dixontm gets a starter first bc gotta look after the wife lmao

“It’s a nice day for a– white wedding.” Maybe it was a touch cold, singing that out in honor of the undead never-to-be bride that clawed at the glass trying in vain to get at them. But frankly, it had been a rough fews years, and Jack had easily fallen back on time agency compartmentalization. Laugh or cry, as they said.

Then he triaged it as ‘not their problem’ and kept walking.

“It’s a nice day to– start again.” Turning on his heel, he faced Daryl with a grin, walking backwards. “On a scale of one to Courtney Love running a kindergarten for an hour, how bad of an idea would it be to play bumper cars The Real Game?” A wink.

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To belong nowhere is a blessing and a curse, like any kind of freedom.