#51 minutes and 21 second still going strong as i get put on hold taken off hold and put back on hold after three sentences

[tothepark]

i love being stuck on hold for like 30 minutes

it's like ooooooh sorrrryyyy I cant do any other tasks right now :/ the representative says so :/ you know how it is :/

and people just are like ah yes, my apologies, please continue to enjoy your obscenely loud and nature valley granola grade crunchy hold music

[raccoonpatriotism]

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Random, Useless Headcanons | Accepting

i like how i keep labeling this meme as “accepting” when i have…. 260 of these right here.

1: Has he driven a car before? Yes. Should he be allowed to keep driving? No.

2: You know that “I’m washing me and my clothes!” vine? That’s Jane. It’s efficient.

3: If you gave him Cat Food he’d say it’s the best thing he’d ever tasted.

4: Before going to Poland to serve his time, he hired a sex worker. Her touch would be the last non-violent physical contact he would feel for the next 9 or so years.

5: 

6: He donates a healthy sum of his paychecks to wild animal and veteran charities. 

7: Jane’s ‘friendship’ with Merasmus is the longest relationship he’s ever held.

8: Jane doesn’t believe in the number 8.

9: He doesn’t have any titty mags, but he does have tasteful pin-up for the inside of his locker.

10: He’s an excellent swimmer - but will sometimes forget to hold his breath. 

11: Getting Jane to imprint on you like a baby bird is really easy. Be strong, be patriotic, be funny, be determined. 

12: He trusts everything he’s told from someone he views as a friend.

13: He’s been on BLU before - it was brief.., a WAR! got started and ended. A few years went by and he was balanced to RED

14: Continuation of 13, it was… very easy to get him to believe he was always on RED team.

15: He loves fighting robots - but nothing compares to the feeling of a neck snapping in his hands.

16: He taught himself how to use every weapon he came across in Poland - it took a few years before he ran into a rocket launcher…. His life was changed from that moment onward.

17: His knowledge of the US military comes from tv and stories from veteran home he was forced to work at through his older years at the orphanage. (Outdated or complete bullshit.)

18: The liveliness of America is just one of the innumerable reasons he loves the country. Even things he hates (like.. war protesters/hippies) have this determination in them that makes him proud.

19: He’ll pick ear wax out of his ear, sniff it, grimace, and happily hold the finger out to somebody near him.

20: He only wants the best for you.

21: Getting him to realize he’s actually ended civilian’s lives is a conversation that would take over an hour. His brain has the wildest, irrationally rational excuses ever. (”Officer Miss Pauling, what I am about to say will SHOCK you; I was framed” will never make me not lose my mind. ilove him)

22: His moral compass is, admittedly, terrible, but he genuinely wants the best for people in the world.

23: Helping people, serving his country, that’s his goal. That all he wants out of life. He’s a cog in the machine of war and he loves it.

24: Consequences don’t exist in Jane’s world.

25: He’s so fucking bisexual. This headcanon is not useless at all.

26: Jane snores like a chainsaw - and will then be absolutely silent for spaces of minutes.

27: He never covers his face when he sneezes.

28: He’s very touchy feely - A way to make up for what he so clearly craves.

29: But god this man wants to be touched.

30: As much as Jane holds back on admitting to weakness, he’s also just a genuinely honest guy so simple prodding usually gets him to spill.

31: Jane has never purposefully manipulated someone in his life.

32: He’s only ever seen one movie. Well, more like registered he always zones out at some point. Sometimes starting the movie in a day dream and zoning back in to catch the ending. The movie he’s fully seen was watched through 3 separate sessions.

33: War films, what he does catch, always make him cry.

34: With everyone he meets; Jane immediately thinks of two things. How to kill them. And what to say when holding their guts into their dying corpse and crying to the sky.

35: He has no idea he’s beautiful.

36: Jane doesn’t have a self-effacing bone in his body.

37: He chews with his mouth open, and speaks with his mouth full. He’ll also snap at someone else to stop talking with their mouth full, it’s disrespectful.

38: Jane had a dream where he beat Communism and thought it was true for a whole year.

39: He’s not dumb on purpose. He has nothing to gain by making people think he’s an idiot, as far as he’s concerned. He acts like himself 24/7

40: Jane invented that song Fifty Nifty United States song that’s song in elementary schools.

41: You know those kiddie leashes? You could put one of those on Jane and he wouldn’t be, like, “Okay.” Try and run off and be like “What contraption is holding me here?!?!?!”

42: The answer to life, the universe, and everything is American Apple Pie

43: i just realized im gonna get to answer a headcanon 69 and got excited. UHH jane likes the color red.

44: Jane likes the color blue.

45: Jane likes the color white.

46: Jane loves all skin colors, anybody can be American.

47: Has he retained any American history? Haha. Ha. No.

48: Jane was taken out of elementary school for bad behavior, lack of attention, and general ruckus.

49: His orphanage never tried to send him back to any schooling. 

50: Jane was born July 4th, he doesn’t know that, despite claiming it.

51: He’s not an amnesiac - he’s never had a strong sense for long-term memories. 

52: God, he loves bread.

53: And also he loves taking everything Engineer says literally. He’s such a wise American.

54: Jane would absolute trollface and say “Problem?”

55: He would never say a slur.

56: Jane does not use fuck as a curse ever. He’ll say it, but like, to mean, y’know.

57: He’s a follower, don’t tell him that. He’ll get offended. 

58: Jane is convinced the President is the most powerful being in the world, and is also granted special powers.

59: Jane is progressive, baybee. He thinks dogs should vote!!

60: UNLESS IT HAS TO DO WITH WAR. Then he’s, like, a total bootlicker.

61: He’ll beat up racists in bars.

62: Jane really came alive during Grey Mann’s first robot attacks - for the second time he felt like he was protecting America and not some Very Important American Gravel. 

63: If Jane ever got sentenced to prison, he’d just serve his time.

64: He has Lawyer Powers given to him by magic, and he is not afraid to use them.

65: Besides Scout, he has represented himself, Lt. Bites, and the state of Tennessee in court.

66: He was a bad roommate, he genuinely thought Merasmus was an even worse roommate. 

67: Extreme Cold is a surefire way to trigger his PTSD. He doesn’t act all that different verbally, but he becomes entire still. Not even moving to shiver. It’s like he automatically transfers to late stage hypothermia.

68: Jane may have never played baseball, but he’s briefly been on a bowling team.

69: ayyyyy. Jane always returns the favor, if ya know what i mean.

70: I can’t tell you how much he can lift because I know nothing about fitness, but it’s a lot. And it’s impressive. 

71: Jane practices unsafe workout routines! It’s a miracle lifting without a spotter hasn’t killed him yet.

72: He makes up for his genuine stupidity with Pure Luck.

73: He’ll kill, he’ll maim, but he won’t assault. 

74: Jane’s favorite chocolate is Hershey’s.

75: He’s convinced Milton Hershey, founder of Hershey’s Chocolate, was a President despite him being alive in Jane’s lifetime.

76: Jane isn’t afraid of gay thoughts, never payed attention to period typical homophobia going on around him therefor never got a chance to develop it.

77: Jane would totally be the type of guy to see one of those Fireman Calendars and zone out staring at some dudes pecs and someone asks him if he’s okay and he’s like “I’m ogay.”

78: It’s a miracle, the first time Jane rocket jumped, his legs weren’t blown off. He was injured from the fall, surprised he’d gotten air at all. It was an accident and, while he’d never go to recreate it during his time in Poland, when he’d gotten hooked up to respawn and he saw all the high perches, the trick reoccured to him.

79: He loved Tavish so much

80: He was born in Tennessee, although he grew up in Wisconsin.

81: He’ll make odd little sounds - aborted sentences, thoughts lost to the depths of his brain. You can point them out and he’ll have no idea what you’re talking about.

82: He could have a possum mixed in with his raccoons and think it’s a raccoon.

83: He takes his Ranger Job very seriously. Just as serious as he does all his jobs. (So, you know. Not… very.) He is very enthusiastic at least!

84: He’s not empathetic at all, however energies at Large in a room really affect him. Chances are, if everyone’s in good favor, he’ll be really happy and relaxed - even if previously grumpy.

85: Jane can be really grumpy, that’s when his drill sergeant personality shines through - more often than not, he’s just a good natured loud patriot rolling with the punches of life.

86: He believes in the Judeo-Christian God, but also… believes the president is stronger than God? Sometimes? Depends on the situation. What is blasphemy haha?!?

87: Jane always wanted a puppy - meeting Bites, future Lieutenant, was like a dream come true to him.

88: Plus, he’d always liked raccoons - often responsible for tipping over dumpsters at his orphanage to help the little critters.

89: Jane can and will eat out of the garbage if not stopped.

90: He’s very passionate and strict about what he knows are fact (the issue is, facts can change pretty easily in jane’s head.

91: Good thing he has a helmet because Jane’s puppy-dog eyes are the sort that are clearly un-practiced and unintentional and thus made all the more soul-wrenching. 

92: He’s always surprised by doorbells.

93: Jane would never smoke weed of his own volition, but under the influence, everything would make So Much Sense to him.

94: I’m talking the wildest stoner sayings, that always are so structurally sound it’s scary.

95: This man loves cashews.

96: “Mm crunchy things.. good.” - Shared thought by Jane and Lt. Bites.

97: Lt. Bites likes to curl up on Jane’s stomach when he’s sleeping. Jane often wakes up with his face covered in scratches and fur in his mouth. Much like the Soldier, the Lieutenant isn’t quite a sound sleeper.

98: Fuck, like, he loves cashews so much? The texture is amazing.

99: Jane has no illegitimate or legitimate children.

100: Jane loves his team almost as much as he loves America.

101: IF YOU MADE IT THIS FAR scroll back up and read everything, LOSER otherwise… wow………you love soldier. me too…… 

CONTINUED HERE

[mahoganypens]

The Highway doesn't need you here, but I do

He could do it. Right here, right now. On the dirt road, absent of light or breath. The car vibrates underneath his fingertips, shaking his bones more than the cold air spitting at his cheeks. With the window down, he hears the engine purr into the night. Louis glances at the clock, 1:04. Everyone, his family, which was littered with adolescent siblings, would be in bed, dreading the next school day. His roommate, who had work in the morning, would receive a phone call before dawn, waking them from a deep sleep.  Deep sleep. Something Louis wanted more than anything.

He could do it. His hands shake as he put the car into drive. He looks at the clock again. 1:19. No one has entered the dirt road he settles on. His phone sits in the cup holder, aiming at him, the screen as dark as the air around him. His headlights shine into the trees, cascading shadows on the sleeping forest. The area was surrounded by tall trees with low hanging branches

He could do it. He lifts his foot from the brake, which was flooding the woods behind him in red. It’s 1:23. Louis takes in a shaking breath, one that aches his throat and tightens his chest. A breath that is a disguise for a sob. His hidden sob is devoured by the engine, as he slams his shoe onto the petal. Rocks scatter into the ditch, branches break under the car, and his vehicle jets down the dirt road. The red dial lifts in front of him 5, 10, 12, 14.

Could he do it? With Liam and Zayn planning on checking in on him in the morning before work. Every morning. Like clockwork. In exactly seven hours and four minutes in fact. And Niall will answer the door, to deliver the news. 18, 21, 25, 28. Could he give them more pain? Louis dares a glance at the clock, 1:26.

Could he do it? As the tree trucks become obsolete, Louis imagines his mother’s eyes; that were once a rich blue color, clouded with tears, completely replaced with cold, dead gray. He had seen those eyes before, after it happened. They were so filled with devastation. The dial spikes; 35, 37, 38. He imagines his whole family with the same eyes. But it would be what he was used to. Every few years when he got enough courage to visit, the strength, he has seen these eyes. Could he give them more pain?

He has to do it. Get it over with. The pain, the guilt, the suffering he has tolerated, barely, is eating him alive. It only seems fair. An eye for an eye. 41, 43, 44. A constant reminder. That’s what he felt like. A souvenir of pain. He can feel the tail end of the car swerve when he lightly moved the wheel. 48, 49, 51. He was getting closer, he knows he is. He has taken this road for years. Well until it happened. After, he never traveled through the dirt of this path.  55, 58, 59.

He will do it. Here, on the same road, same time. The clock ticks to 1:34. The engine whines, in the similar way it did then. At least that’s how he imagines it, he does not remember.  59, 60, 61.

A chime fills the car. A light shines onto his elbow, the phone vibrating along with the car. Louis chances a glance. The number appears, a name written above, and he lets out another cry. He had forgotten about him. The strange man he meet not even six months ago, with the curly hair and sly smile. Another constant reminder. With blurry eyes, Louis tries to hit the end call on his steering wheel. But the road, it’s too bumpy, the car is going too fast, and his finger slips to the button above.

 “Sorry, to call this late.” Comes his voice in a slow tone. Soft. Gentle. Real. Louis doesn’t respond, just listens and looks at the road. A lot of their many conversations are like this, he talks and Louis listens. “And I know I should wait until morning. But I’ve been thinking about what you said early.” Pain whips at Louis’ heart, the same way it did then. “I disagree Lou. I completely and utterly disagree. I don’t know what you have done, but I don’t care what happened that makes you think you’re not worthy of anything good. You deserve everything.” This pulls a haunted laugh from Louis, which encourages the other. “You do. You need to know you are worthy of love and confront. You deserve happiness and…”

“I deserve…” Louis speaks, stopping him in his thought. His throat aches. It’s 1:38. And for the first time, in the distance, a curve in the road. The same curve. The same road. The same time. “I deserve the same fate.” He presses the gas more. 65, 69, 71. “You don’t understand Harry. And you should. You should know how much of a monster I really am. But even I can’t tell you. You just wouldn’t understand.” His voice grows for the air whipping into the car is masking him. “That’s just who you are Harry. You see the good, but never the bad. Just the good.” 72, 73, 74. “I’m not good.” He glances into the rearview. Seeing two figures, both sleeping in uncomfortable positions. The car swerves. But they don’t move.

“You deserve love and confront and bliss.” The curve is rapidly approaching.  “You are just as good as anyone else. You are not all bad Louis. You just did bad things. You are not a bad person. You are more than just good or bad, love. You are passionate and kind.” Harry continues, his voice sounding almost frantic, but still so gentle. “You are lovely, smart, and beautiful.  I feel it. I see it in your eyes. You put others first, and you go out of your way to make others feel loved. Please believe me when I say that you deserve nothing less. You should never feel like you’re alone. I love you, and you deserve that.”

Louis is fully crying, tears coating his neck and gathering in his hollow collarbones. 74, 74, 72, 69, 67. As he blinks a few tears away, the metal sign is a few feet away and there’s no time. Even when he slams on the break, the car just flings the rocks around, fishtailing in every direction. Harry yells out to Louis. He turns the car, trying to keep with the curve, but the car is going too fast. The tail end makes contact with the sign, ripping the pole from the ground. The right side of the car dips, the back tire is holding no support.

 As he tries to regain control of the car, lights shine over the horizon. A van, coming in fast and close. Again. He’s doing it again. His eyes drag to the mirror to see the backseat. The figures were gone, and he is alone in the car. Good. At least he won’t hurt them like he did last time. He won’t hurt anyone again.

“Lou, what is going on? Are you okay?” it’s the fastest he’s ever hear Harry talk as he spoke through the car speakers. Louis snapped out of his haze, seconds before the horn of the approaching van blares through his windows, the very tip of his left rearview mirror merely a few centimeters from the van’s side. The van sails down the road and pass the curve with his horn shrieking. For a second, Louis’ car spins to the side, the back wheels try to grasp some friction. A tree, with low hanging branches and thick bushes around its roots, connects to the passenger side of the car to its trunk. Louis’s heart was crashing against his chest, tears scorching his cheeks.

“Louis! Please, answer me!” Harry was screaming through tears, his voice broken by sobs. The same tone that his mother wore when he drove this road, dead in the night, his sisters in the backseat. A few drinks in his system. He knew he had to drive home. But still he went and drank. There wasn’t a strong, healthy tree with thick bushes to cushion their landing though. Only a rotten and aged oak.

“Please, Mrs. Surel! I need to borrow your phone. I need to call an ambulance, but I can’t get off the line. If he’s hurt or worse…” a deep cry came through the speakers. “Please answer me Louis, where are you?”

“Harry,” his tongue felt huge in his mouth and tasted like metal. He must have bit it. “Harry.”

“Yes! Yes, Louis! I’m still here. Where are you? I heard honking and a glass shattering.” He’s right, there passenger window was destroyed. “Please tell me where you are so I can send help.”

“Don’t, I’m fine.” Louis says seconds before he coughs. “Don’t call the medics.” Louis groans when he lifts his shoulders. Definitely not 100% okay, but no broken bones. He reaches, turning the key to a dead choking sound from the car, but the lights were still on inside and Harry was still there. “Harry, can you come get me? Please.” He whispers.

“Of course Louis. Of course. Let me get my keys and jacket. Please stay on the line okay love? Don’t hang up, keep talking. Where are you?” Louis looked around, there was only one sign, the beginning of the word sneaking from the branches, illuminated by the moonlight. But he knew this road. Knew every twist, every turn.

“On Newberry, right off of Brooklynn road. The dirt one.” There was typing on the other end, and harry sighs.

“That’s a twenty five minute drive. I am on my way now. Keep talking to me. Why were you out there this late love?” When Louis didn’t respond right away, Harry panicked. “Louis? Answer me.”

He sighed, the breath echoing in the car. “I was looking,” he paused, playing with the zipper on the hoodie.

“Looking for what?”

“You wouldn’t understand.” Louis said.

“Try me,” This made tears reform. If he told Harry, that was it. He would be unlocking his monster, freeing the beast. Suddenly the car felt like an enclosure, the roof collapsing all over again. Louis unbuckled his seatbelt and opened the car door. With a shaking breath, he took Harry off of the car speaker phone and stepped out, crumpling to the ground in a heap. He took a moment to collect his thoughts, there were so many.

“I was so tired.” He cried, breaking down before he even started. “I didn’t sleep for almost three days, I don’t sleep much. Before or after.”

“After what?” Harry asked, ever so gentle, into his ear.  

“After what I did. I knew I had to drive home. But as the time got lost, the later it got, the more they kicked in.” Louis took a breath, and spoke before Harry could ask. “An old friend of mine, he lent me some pills. To help me sleep. And of course I took them, I was so sleep deprived, I felt like the world was disintegrating. And it did.”

He sobbed, until his throat ached and burned so much it felt like it was closing. He didn’t even know if Harry could make out what he was saying, he hopes he can’t.

“I forgot about them. My sisters. I totally forgot I had to pick them up. My twin sisters were sleeping over at their friend’s house, but wanted to come home. Apparently they watched a scary movie, and couldn’t handle sleeping in a dark basement.” Louis laughed lightly. “The place they were staying was on the way home. I figured I could take the pills, pick them up, and drive home in time before they kicked in.

“We were on this road. I was driving with the windows down, the girls passed out in the backseat. I thought they would stay awake, still jittery from the movie. But they fell asleep instantly, feeling protected under their brother’s watch.” Louis did laugh out loud this time, the movement sparking pain in his shoulder again. “Oh so wrong.”

Headlights approached, a familiar Range Rover pulling up and the phone clicked off. Harry emerged from the vehicle, long curls pulled back into a bun, and a thick jacket over his pajamas. Louis doesn’t notice how cold he is. Not until he feels the warmth of Harry’s eyes and he’s a sobbing mess all over again, shoulders shaking the second harry makes contact; throwing a jacket over Louis’s shoulders before taking him into the taller man’s arms. Harry murmured soft words, smoothing Louis’s sobs.

“I thought I could make it. I didn’t even know I feel asleep.” Harry’s hands feels like molten lava on Louis, not only scaring the cold away, but completely scorching his body.

“They were killed.” Another sob, this one dry.

Harry knows Louis needs to talk about this, he does. But every sentence aches more than the last, whipping Louis with his past and his mistakes, making him relive these memories.

“What were you looking for out here Louis?”

“Their revenge. Their justice”

“What do you mean love?”

“An eye for an eye,” This obviates Harry’s heart, a dead empty space fills his chest and he lets out a small sob himself.

“Louis, that’s…,”

“And get this, the other guy, who was also killed in the accident; he was drunk. He flew right of the car, into that ditch down there,” This stops Harry’s hand that was rubbing circles on Louis back. He shifts to look at him. “It is ironic isn’t it?”

“Louis, if he was drunk, he could have easily caused the accident,” Harry tries, but Louis shakes his head. Moving away from the warmth of Harry. The taller man whines, reaching back for Louis, but Louis shifts back more.

“Don’t try to shift the blame. I caused it. I killed all of them.”

“But Louis,”

“I’ve accepted it Harry. I’ve accepted my mistakes. I’ve claimed my demons. I know what I did was my fault, and I’ve earned whatever the universe is waiting to dish out.”

“You deserve love and confront and happiness.” Harry whispers, shaking his head quickly, releasing some strands from his bun. “I love you, everyone you know loves you, and you deserve that.” Louis scoffs, again moving from Harry’s embrace and he doesn’t let Harry pull him back in.

“Stop. How can you say that? I killed my sisters.”

Harry watched him with sorrowful eyes, and realized this old dirt road was left with two things: a damaged tree and a broken boy.

 Divorce? That’s what she said, isn’t it? Fifteen years of marriage for what? He took the bottle nested in the passage seat and takes another swig, whipping the liquid from in his beard. Divorce? He’s been a good husband. Hasn’t he? He has brought home paychecks every week, fixed most of the holes in the roof, and loved his wife.

Dark, dark roads. He has been traveling them for a few hours, the gas dial dipping closer to the empty. Music streamed through the car, rocking his ear drums, but it was better than thinking. Every thought earned a drink. How many thoughts did he have tonight?

The old road held its characters, trees with low hanging branches, eerie silence, and tons of potholes. One huge hole fell under the right tire, and sent his bottle to the floor. In anger, he reached down, trying to chase the flask with drunk fingers. The speaker blaring music into his ears. Drowning the horns and yells, shading the lights, and by the time he pulls back up, contact was already made to the back of the car. A small car, completely opposite of his truck.  So it swerve will less effort, until it hit a tree. His truck didn’t take as much damage, as he observe once he pulled over and examined the outside. Almost as an after thought, he saw the other car, resting against the tree, smoke coming from the engine, which was caved in. He walked over, seeing the brown haired boy in the driver side. His forehead was against the wheel, red dripping down the side, but his chest raised up and down.

            “Are you okay?” the man asked, in a slur. Too many thoughts tonight. He opened the door, the car beeping in responds, filling the silence of the forest. 1:41 A.M. shined on the dash board. The man clicked the seatbelt, and heaved the boy to the gravel. His body fell into a heap, but he didn’t wake.

            911. I should the police. Fear spiked through him, no, no police. If I go to jail, she’ll never give me a second chance. Within his panic, he makes his way back to the truck, “I’ll call when I get father away, yes. An anonymous call.”

            A creaking noise drowns his thoughts, and a branch cascades onto the car, crushing the back of the car into a wreck of metal.

            “I just saved that boy,” the man forms a smile. He opened the driver door of his truck, remembering to call the medics when he gets a mile away, but his footing failed him and he slipped. Tumbling down the deep ditch towards the trunks of the trees. His temple make forceful contact with a sharp rock and his world meets a darker black than that silent forest.

Heat throws itself into Louis’ face as he sat curled up in Harry’s front seat. His mind is numb and his throat has never felt so sweltering. Everything is hollow but his heart as he listens. Harry grips the steering wheel, the music absent from the car and replaced his words falling from soft lips. 

            “You deserve the sun when it rises in the morning, only here to shine for you. You deserve the rain that falls from the dark sky and waters the flowers, which pale in beauty compared to you. You deserve the world’s waking second, everyone who gets to know you is filled with wonder.

            “You deserve all the love. You deserve the happiness someone is going to give you for the rest of your life. Because I can guarantee you’ll be giving them enough to last more than one life time.”

            Silent tears cloud Louis’ vision as he stares at Harry, who is driving with a complete neutral expression, like he’s not changing Louis’ entire world. He looks out the window to see if it’s safe to turn down Louis’ street and nonchalantly continues, “You are worthy of every melody that any instrument can play. You deserve to laugh on a daily basis. Please laugh every day. Because I’ve never heard such a beautiful sound in the ancient, unsympathetic history of this Earth.

“And most importantly,” he pulls into the driveway of Louis’s loft, his windows dark like the rest of them. “You deserve yourself. Love yourself and discover peace. You deserve every day. And every minute. And every moment. Tackle the demons and live forever accepting, not only your mistakes, but your accomplishments, your goals, the rest of your live. You are worthy.”

Louis rips the blanket from his body and dives to the other side of the car, enveloping harry into a hug. A one crushing, light-in-the-dark kind of hug.

“I couldn’t possibly deserve you,”

“Yes. Yes, you do.”