#I have the opportunity to go to Mexico too but that might be too much

[fangirlforthewin]

Happy New Years, all! May it be filled with motivation, inspiration, and good health!

[meazalykov]

getting what she wants

lena oberdorf x reader

part four of five

summary: you wonder if she will take this as seriously as you will, since the unfortunate event will turn her life around

warnings: angst, acl injury

the atmosphere in washington, d.c. was buzzing, the crowd already filling up the stadium for the final friendly before the olympics. 

the last tune-up match. the send off. you should’ve been excited, but your mind wasn’t entirely focused on the game ahead.

your family was here, your non-soccer playing friends have called off from their jobs just to celebrate your achievements.

however, you couldn’t shake the feeling that something was off, though you hadn’t put your finger on it yet.

emma had decided to rest you for the first half, opting to try out some new formations and lineups before the olympics. 

you were okay with it, knowing that your performance in new york had already solidified your spot in the starting lineup for the tournament. still, sitting on the bench with your legs jittering from the adrenaline that always hit just before a match wasn’t easy.

you sat between tierna and hal, the latter relatively new to the national team setup. hal’s wide eyes scanned the field, soaking it all in as she sat nervously beside you.

"y/n," she said, her voice soft, like she wasn’t sure if she should even speak to you. 

you turn your head to look at her, with a light smile letting her know that she can speak to you anytime. 

"i know you’re going through a hard time, according to the team. and i feel like you should hear this since we haven’t talked much but i’ve just... i’ve always admired you. as a midfielder, i mean. your control, your playmaking, it’s... i don’t know, you’re so goated."

you turned to her, surprised by the compliment. you hadn’t interacted with hal much since this was only her third call-up to the senior team. she was still finding her spot, but her genuine words made you smile, if only a little.

"thank you, you don’t understand how much that means to me right now" you replied, offering her a nod of acknowledgment. 

"you’ve been doing great too. i can’t wait to play with you more often."

hal gave a nervous smile, then added, "i know there’s been... a lot of drama lately. with carmine and everything. but i want you to know that i’d like to be your friend, no matter what. i don’t care about the rumors that might make you look bad or any of that stuff."

her words took you off guard, and you felt a wave of gratitude wash over you. 

it wasn’t easy to open up to new people, especially after your ex ruined your trust for a temporary period, but hal’s sincerity was a breath of fresh air.

"i’d like that," you said, meaning it. 

"friends sound good."

the game started, and for the first half, you sat watching intently, analyzing the way emma was testing out the new players. 

mexico was tough, just as they had been in the gold cup back in february, but you knew that your team had enough firepower to break them down eventually.

at halftime, it was still 0-0, and you were itching to get on the field. 

emma must’ve sensed it, because in the 63rd minute, she called your name.

"y/n, you’re going in. i want you to play in your normal position, just like last game, prioritize the opportunity. stay in the line– i trust you."

you nodded, already mentally preparing yourself as you stripped off your warm-up gear and jogged to the sideline. 

when the whistle blew, you stepped onto the pitch replacing rose lavelle, ready to make an impact.

within minutes, you found your rhythm, linking up with mallory, lynn, and sophia effortlessly. you could feel the game starting to open up, and you knew it was only a matter of time before the breakthrough came.

and then, in the 78th minute, it did.

lynn made a run down the left wing, drawing two defenders toward her. you saw the space open up in the middle and called for the ball. 

she cut it back to you, and without hesitation, you took a touch, then drilled it into the bottom corner of the net.

the goalkeeper dives too late to save it.

the crowd erupted as you run to the corner to celebrate. you see your family and personal friends and give them a heart with your hands, happy to see them here.

your teammates swarming you. it wasn’t a hat trick like the last game, but it was your fourth goal in two games, and it felt good—really good.

after the final whistle, with a 1-0 victory secured, you headed back to the locker room. 

the energy was high, the team buzzing with excitement, but there was a heavy pit forming in your stomach. 

something didn't feel right before the game, and you couldn’t shake it.

as you sat on the bench, wiping the sweat and grass dirt from your face, lindsey walked over, her expression serious. she motioned for you to follow her, pulling you into one of the private areas of the locker room.

"hi?" you asked, sensing something was wrong.

is she confronting you about the drama? you weren’t sure. lindsey reassured you many times that everyone still loves you, so you hope there were no new problems now.

lindsey hesitated for a moment, her eyes searching yours before she spoke. 

"i didn’t want to tell you before the game, but... lena got injured in germany’s friendly against austria. it’s her knee. popp thinks it’s her acl."

your heart dropped into your stomach, the words hitting you like a freight train. 

"what?" your voice cracked, panic already rising in your chest.

"she’s in the hospital back in germany right now," lindsey continued softly. 

"i’m sorry, y/n."

you didn’t think twice. without another word, you grabbed your phone and hurried outside to find a quieter space. 

it was 11:30 p.m. in dc, which meant it was 5:30 am in germany. 

lena would still be awake, especially if she was in the hospital.

with shaky hands, you dialed her number. the phone rang twice before she picked up, her voice groggy but filled with pain.

"hey," lena murmured. 

"i was hoping you’d call. nice goal by the way, i saw it on tv."

"lena, i just found out," you said, your voice tight as you tried to hold back the wave of emotions crashing over you. 

"your acl? are you okay? i—i should’ve called sooner but i had that game—"

"i’m... i don’t know," lena admitted, her voice breaking slightly. 

"it hurts like hell, and i couldn’t sleep. i was supposed to start my first game with you at bayern after the summer, but now... now i don’t even know when i’ll be back."

your heart ached hearing the defeat in her voice. 

lena was one of the toughest people you knew, but this was breaking her.

"i’m so sorry," you whispered, your throat tight. 

"i’ll be there for you, okay? after the olympics, i’ll help you with your recovery. i’ll make time, i promise."

"you don’t have to do that," lena said quietly, though you could hear the gratitude in her tone. 

"i don’t want to be a burden on you. you have so much going on—" she switches to german. 

"lena," you cut her off, your voice firm. 

"you’re not a burden. you’re a priority. i want to help you. i’ll be there for you, whatever you need. i promise."

there was a long pause on the other end before lena spoke again. 

"thank you," she whispered. "i... i don’t know what i’d do without you right now."

you sat there, the weight of her words sinking in. the truth was, you didn’t know what you’d do without her either. 

shes been in contact with you everyday since that night. unless there were training or games, there wasn’t a single long-period where you weren’t texting about something– or anything.

despite everything—despite the complicated mess you’d been through with your ex, and the uncertainty that had surrounded your relationship with lena—you realized just how deep your feelings for her ran.

you weren’t official with lena. not yet. but the way your heart was breaking for her right now told you everything you needed to know.

after a long pause, lena spoke again, her voice softer now. 

"i’ll still make time for you, even with everything going on."

"no," you said firmly. "i’m going to be there for you, okay? i’ll help you recover. you won’t have to go through this alone."

"thank you," lena whispered again, her voice filled with emotion. 

you sat there, the phone still pressed to your ear, your mind racing. this wasn’t how you’d imagined things would go. 

lena was supposed to start fresh at bayern after the summer, and now... now everything had changed.

when you returned to the locker room, the news had already spread. the atmosphere was a mix of excitement from the win and the heaviness of what had just happened to lena. 

your teammates, especially the ones who knew her well like tierna, gave you sympathetic looks, but no one said much.

as the team prepared to leave for d.c., the weight of everything that had happened in the past few weeks hit you all at once. 

from the messy breakup with sloan to lena’s injury, it felt like everything was spinning out of control. 

and yet, despite it all, one thing became clear to you as you boarded the plane for the olympics: 

you wanted to be with lena. not just as a friend, not just as someone helping her recover, but you wanted to be hers. and her to be yours. 

the thing is– you weren’t sure how it would all work out with lena, but you knew one thing for sure: you were in too deep to turn back now. 

when all of this was over, you and lena could figure it out together. 

the olympics came and went in a blur, the pressure mounting as you advanced through the tournament. 

the uswnt played like machines under emma hayes, and before you knew it, you found yourself in the final against brazil, the stakes higher than ever.

the atmosphere at the olympic final against brazil was electric. you were in the 2020 olympics with the team, but winning bronze doesn’t compare to this.

you stood shoulder to shoulder with lindsey and sam, eyes fixed on the opponents you’ve had faced so many times before. 

brazil was known for their speed and creativeness, but you knew alyssa naeher was more than prepared to keep them at bay. 

today wasn’t just another game — it was the olympic final. and you were more determined than ever to bring home gold. just to prove to yourself that nothing could stop your game, not your cheating ex— nobody.

but as the national anthem played, you couldn’t help but think of lena. 

you hadn’t spoken to her much over the last few days, mostly because she was in the thick of her recovery then traveling to meet up with her national team. 

though, lena was in the audience. you knew that. lena visited her german teammates as they won the bronze medal match against spain. to say that you were happy for them would've been an understatement. 

now the germans were here before the ceremony, ready to watch you put on an outstanding performance for gold.

your heart ached when you thought of her, the injury that had thrown both of your worlds off course. 

she was supposed to be thriving, ready to become a star at bayern, and now she was sidelined for months.

but right now, you had a job to do.

the whistle blew, and the final kicked off.

brazil came out swinging, full of energy, and the first twenty minutes were a back-and-forth battle in the midfield. 

every time adriana or marta touched the ball, your heart skipped a beat, but you knew alyssa was solid in the back. 

the triple espresso were pushing the attack, but brazil’s defense was holding strong.

at around the 30-minute mark, you found yourself in space, sam coffey threading a pass your way. 

your first touch was sharp, pushing the ball ahead of you as you glanced up to see the keeper off her line. the triple espresso was blocked by defenders, so without a second thought, you wound up and took the shot from just outside the box, sending the ball curling toward the top corner.

the sound of the net rippling sent a surge of adrenaline through your veins, and the stadium exploded in celebration. 1-0. 

you threw your arms up, letting the emotion wash over you as your teammates rushed to engulf you in a hug.

something inside of you wanted to cry in joy– but you held it in. there was still work to be done, and brazil wasn’t going to back down easily.

the rest of the first half was intense. 

brazil pressed hard, but the u.s. defense, led by alyssa, naomi, emily, crystal, and tierna, stood strong. 

when brazil did manage to get a shot off, alyssa was there, calm and collected, making crucial saves to maintain the lead.

at halftime, the locker room was a mixture of adrenaline and focus. 

the 1-0 lead felt good, but you knew it wasn’t enough. brazil was dangerous, and if you let up for even a second, they’d capitalize.

emma gathered the team for a quick pep talk, her voice steady but full of fire. you listened, making sure that you put on the best performance of your career in this second half.

as the second half kicked off, you could feel the tension. 

brazil came out with renewed energy, and for the first 15 minutes, they pinned you back, testing alyssa with shots from distance. 

she held firm, pulling off save after save, keeping the clean sheet intact.

you cheered, externally or internally, everytime. 

in the 65th minute, emma made a tactical switch, bringing in fresh legs to maintain the pace. fortunately, you weren’t subbed out. 

the game shifted again, and you found yourself back in the attack. mallory broke down the wing, flying past her defender, and whipped in a cross toward the penalty spot.

you were already there, timing your run perfectly. the ball floated in, and without hesitating, you leapt into the air, connecting with the header. 

it wasn’t the hardest shot you’d ever taken, but it was placed perfectly, tucking into the bottom corner past brazil’s keeper.

2-0.

the stadium erupted, louder this time, the roar deafening as you run around the pitch with your arms up high. your  teammates chased then mobbed you once again. most teammates from the bench even jumping up to hug you in celebration. 

a two-goal lead in the olympic final. you could taste the gold now.

with brazil rattled, the game started to open up. there were more chances on both sides, but your defense was unbreakable. 

alyssa, naomi, and emily were locked in, keeping brazil at bay with every attack they mounted. it felt like nothing could get past them, and you could see the frustration building in the brazilian players.

as the clock ticked down, the final whistle was nearing, but you kept your foot on the gas. 

brazil was desperate, throwing numbers forward, and that left them exposed at the back.

in the 88th minute, you found yourself in possession again, just outside the box. 

sophia made a darting run to pull the defenders away, giving you just enough space to take a shot. you faked to your right, cutting back inside, and then unleashed a low, driven strike toward the far post.

the ball hit the bar, but trinity recovered it and tapped it behind the net. 

3-0. the gold was yours.

the crowd exploded in celebration as you dropped to your knees, overwhelmed with emotion. 

trinity laid on top of you, crying with you. 

your teammates swarmed you, hugging you, lifting you up, the joy infectious. you had done it. olympic champions.

as the final whistle blew, the team celebrated like there was no tomorrow, hugging, crying, laughing. 

you had your gold medal moment, standing on top of the world. 

your hands were on your face as your sobs came out uncontrollably. if you told yourself a month ago that you’d be this happy and relieved, you wouldn’t believe it. 

lindsey and tierna comforted you as you stood up to go to the locker room, getting ready to shower before the ceremony. 

as you had a moment to settle down, your thoughts drifted back to lena.

you hadn’t realized how deep your feelings for her had grown.

the fact that she was there, the fact that she was hundreds of feet away in the stadium, recovering from an injury that could derail her season instead of celebrating bronze with her team, weighed heavily on your heart.

later that night, after all the celebrations, after the medals had been handed out and the photos had been taken, you found a quiet moment to yourself. 

the weight of the gold medal around your neck was a reminder of everything you’d worked for, but the ache in your chest was for something, someone else.

you pulled out your phone, glancing at the time. 

lena was probably asleep by now after partying with her national team, but you couldn’t help it. you needed to talk to her.

you dialed her number, your heart pounding as the phone rang. after a few rings, she picked up, her voice groggy.

"hey," she mumbled. 

"you did it!" she cheered through her tired voice. 

"yeah," you whispered, your throat tight. 

"we won."

there was a long pause on the other end, and you could hear lena shift slightly, probably trying to get comfortable in her bed. 

you know that she is someone who sleeps on her stomach, so the brace might make it hard for her. 

"i’m so proud of you," she said softly.

"i wish you were here with me," you admitted, the words slipping out before you could stop them. 

"this doesn’t feel right without you, even if you do have a different nationality than me." you giggled.

"i wish i was there too," she replied, her voice filled with longing. 

"but... i’ll be here when you get back. we’ll figure everything out then. until then, please enjoy your win."

you smiled, tears stinging your eyes. "i’m coming home to you. as soon as all of this is done."

"i’ll be waiting," lena whispered.

as you hung up after the goodnights, the weight of everything hit you all at once. 

the olympics, the gold, lena’s injury, your breakup with sloan, the confusion about what you and lena really were—it was all so much. 

one thing was clear in your mind as you stared down at the gold medal around your neck: it didn’t matter what obstacles lay ahead now. 

you moved on from whatever was in the past and you were in this with lena now, for the long run.

part five, the final part, here

[thetriumphantpanda]

pining & desperately waiting | javier peña

take the weight off his shoulders - chapter two

Chapter Summary | As much as he’s trying to keep his distance there is just something about you that Javier cannot stay away from. Drawn to you like a moth to a flame, so to speak. He's worried about you too, putting yourself in harms way for your work.

Chapter Warnings | Mutual pining, slow burn, sexual tension, flirting, mention of smoking and drinking alcohol, mention of drugs, drug deaths and the drug trade, explicit smut - masturbation (F)

Pairing | dbf!Javier Peña x F!Reader

Word Count | 3.2k

Authors Note | When I tell you I love this (specific) man, I am telling you I love him. He consumes me. Thank you to @hellishjoel for letting me scream about these two with her and helping me figure this chapter out! If you like this I would love for you to join me in my ask box for screaming and please consider reblogging to support me! If you enjoyed this, you can make a donation to my Ko-Fi if you'd like to support me that way.

I no longer use taglists. Please follow @thetriumphantpandanotifs to be notified of new updates.

Series Masterlist | Main Masterlist | Ko-Fi | Series Playlist

You dream of him every night for a week after that night at the bar. They’re filthy, depraved sometimes, and you always wake up, slick pooling between your thighs, fingers working furiously before your alarm goes off to try a satiate you, or at least tide you over until you can climb back into bed that night and really take your time to imagine all the ways Javier would take you apart with his fingers, with his mouth, with his…. 

“Are you even listening to me?” 

You want to answer honestly and say no, you were busy daydreaming about getting railed by your dad’s buddy, but when you look across the table and see your boss practically glaring at you, you realise it’s probably for the best to lie a little. 

“Sorry,” You mumble, picking up your pen, “Didn’t sleep well, what were you saying?” 

“The fundraiser tomorrow,” She speaks, “For Dylan’s foundation, would you be okay to cover it?” 

You nod, because it makes sense for it to be you. Dylan had overdosed just over a year ago – seemingly on top of things, doing well in school and incredibly bright, found slouched over on a street corner, dead from an overdose before he’d been able to leave the small town for whatever bright lights he was destined for. He was just one of a string of drug-related deaths over the past twelve months – an ‘epidemic’ as they had coined it – the town too close to Mexico to escape the trade that Javier himself had worked so hard to quell. Dylan’s parent’s had set up a small foundation after his death, hoping to help other young kids who could be lured into this stuff to have other opportunities in their lives. 

“What kinda thing are you thinking?” You ask, starting to jot down notes as she speaks. 

“Just some reaction from people there, why they’ve decided to come out and support, maybe try and grab one of his parents, just the usual really, and we can run a story in the following days, might help drum up some more support for them if nothing else.” 

You nod, doing your usual with your notes of underlining the important parts, making notes on the kind of questions you’ll ask when you speak to people, “How many words have I got to work with?” 

“I think we can give them a page,” She says, looking to her boss who nods in agreement, “So whatever you produced for last month’s story, that should be good.” 

You nod, making a note of that too, and then continue to zone out for the rest of the meeting as everyone talks amongst themselves, mind going right back to Javi and what he would feel like putting his weight on you, settling between your thighs. You really needed to get a grip. 

“Oh, isn’t it so nice to see such a good turn out today?” Your mom gushes, looking around at what feels like the whole of Laredo milling about a number of stalls that are selling all sorts of different things. 

“Sure is good to see,” Your dad agrees, putting his hands on your shoulders to give them a squeeze, “You want us to leave you to your reporting, pumpkin?” 

The nickname makes you wince a little, a moniker from your early days, before you’d filled out into your body. It was cute, but at twenty-five years of age, you do sometimes wish he’d find something else to call you. 

“I shouldn’t be too long,” You turn around and smile at him, “I can come and find you in a little while.” 

You wander around, introducing yourself to a few people asking them questions and jotting down notes. You’ve just finished speaking to Martina, famous throughout town for owning her own candle business, about why she’s supporting the foundation, when you step back and feel two sturdy hands holding onto your waist. You’re about to turn around and slap whoever it is for touching you, when that deep voice hits your ears.

“Careful, querida,” Javier fucking Peña, “Almost stood on my foot.” 

You whip around, mainly to put a bit of distance between the two of you, because it felt like his lips had been inches from your ear. He drops one of his hands, but keeps the other ghosting at your side, maybe to keep you steady more than anything as you wobble from the speed at which you’ve turned around. 

“Maybe you shouldn’t stand too close then?” You offer, making sure it comes out more playful than anything, because actually, all you really want is for his body to press against you more often. 

“Fair point,” He shrugs, “Thought I recognized you so I wanted to say hi,” He finally lets that other hand drop from your waist, “So hi.” Is... Is he nervous? 

You chuckle a little, “Hi,” you respond simply with a smile, “I didn’t expect to see you here,” You say honestly, this wasn’t his kind of scene before, you can’t imagine it’s any more appealing to him now, “Didn’t think it was your kind of scene.” 

He rubs a hand nervously over the back of his neck, “It’s not, I’ve been made to come,” He nods his head behind him where Chucho is talking to a group of other ranchers, “Apparently I’ve got to start showing my face more.” 

“Well, it’s a nice face,” your mouth speaks before your brain can catch up with what it’s saying, you inwardly cringe when you realise what you’ve said, “I mean, I’m sure people are happy to see you around.” Is all you can think to say to try and get him to forget the weird compliment. 

He seems to smile, but like it had been across the table almost two weeks ago, his smile seems forced, “Just wish I could skip the bullshit about everyone being proud of me.” 

“But it’s true,” You shrug, moving away from the stall with him so other people can in front of you to look, “You did really good things out there.” 

He scoffs now, shaking his head a little, “You shouldn’t believe everything you read in the newspapers, querida,” He speaks, “Surely you should know that more than anyone.” 

You don’t know what he’s actually trying to say, but you decide to play it light, “Are you accusing me of lying in my stories, Peña?” You say with a smirk. 

“Perhaps not you,” He offers, “But I know plenty of journalists who know how to twist a story to get what they want,” He looks down at his shoes, kicking at the gravel a little, “Just don’t want you thinking I’m something I’m not.” 

“Been gone a long time,” You muse, “You might have to spend some time reminding me who you are.” 

It’s flirting the lines of maybe being too much you think, but you’ve not said anything that’s not true. He has been gone a long time, and if what he’s said is anything to go by, he will have to remind you of who he is or show you how he’s changed. 

“Not sure you’d like who I am now very much, querida.” He says simply. 

You’re about to open your mouth to respond, tell him you’re pretty sure that wouldn’t be true and that there isn’t a thing he could do on this earth that would make you think he was a bad person, but before you can, Chucho is coming up behind him, a firm hand on his shoulder. 

“Ah, mija,” He smiles at you, “You here alone?” 

“Hey Chucho,” You greet with a smile, “Mom and dad are around somewhere, I’m just here working on a story.” You hold up your notepad and pen.

“Let’s see if we can’t find them, huh Javi?” Chucho muses to his son, “Get you a nice cold lemonade for when you’re finished?” He motions to the blazing sun and then back to you. 

“Sounds lovely, thank you,” You motion over their shoulder to where Dylan’s parents are stood, “I just need to speak to them, and I’ll come and find you.” 

Javi doesn’t say goodbye, just follows closely behind Chucho as they disappear into the crowds, leaving you to wander over to Dylan’s parents. They’re not strangers to the paper, your boss had written a story with them not long after Dylan’s funeral, trying to spread awareness as to just how deep the drug problem ran in town. The Laredo Morning Times had always been supportive to them, so you didn’t feel the same anxiety you normally did when gathering information for stories, cold calling or knocking on doors trying to introduce yourself before doors are swiftly shut in your face or phones are hung up with a ‘no comment’. 

They’re warm with you as you speak to them, thanking you for coming, thanking the paper for agreeing to cover the event, they even smile, which for a pair who lost their only son in such a horrible way still shocks you for some reason. Their loss hasn’t defined them, only made them stronger, made them determined to stop their pain from happening to anyone else. You make a note to write something equally as poetic in your article. 

The crowds are thinning out a little as the midday sun does its worst. You can feel beads of sweat gathering behind our knees and you curse the fact you hadn’t remembered your hat. You can feel the heat prickling your skin as you spot your parents, sitting on a picnic bench with Javi and Chucho sat opposite them. When you’re close enough to the table, you can see everyone has plastic cups full of lemonade, but there’s one, put in front of the spare spot on the bench next to Javi, that is pink in colour instead of the cloudy yellow of everyone else’s. 

“You get everything you need?” Your dad asks, as you try and fight your legs over the bench in the most graceful way possible. 

“Yeah,” You nod, “Think it’ll make a great piece, Dylan’s parents seem really positive about it all,” You pick up the cup and take a sip, pink lemonade, your favourite, “Thanks for this.” You nod in the direction of your dad. 

“Don’t thank me, Javi got these,” He smiles, “Remembered you preferred pink lemonade and everything.” 

It actually makes your heart swell in your chest. He was always thoughtful, even before he left. Observant almost to a fault. But even after all these years, all of his stress, everything he’s seen, he still knows you well enough to know you prefer the sweeter pink lemonade. You turn your head to him to find him already looking at you with a little smile on his face. 

“Thank you.” You say quietly, sipping through the straw. 

“You’re welcome, dulzura.” 

Javier Peña is doing a piss poor job of staying away from you, even by his standards. He lasted less than a week before he was waltzing over to you, hands on your waist, buying you pink lemonade because he knows you prefer it. There hasn’t been a night where he hasn’t wrapped his fist around his cock and made himself cum over the thought of you. He finds it easier to drop off to sleep once he’s done it, but his nights are still fitful, full of nightmares, tossing and turning, waking up to sweat soaked sheets and a heaving chest. He wonders briefly, when he lies awake watching the dawn arrive through his curtains, whether your body next to him would ease his nightmares? But then he thinks what if it doesn’t. What if you have to wake up, look at him with those innocent doe eyes and see him for what he really is?  No, he can’t let his darkness cloud you, you don’t deserve that, you deserve someone that going to be gentle with you, someone softer, not him with all his jagged edges. 

He's currently sitting in his truck, just outside of the liquor store, contemplating how badly he wants that packet of cigarettes and the bottle of whiskey he’d driven out to buy. He’d done alright so far, chewing on his Nicorette gum, but his fingers are itching for the familiarity of a cigarette between his fingers, and he’d finished the bottle of whiskey last night. 

Then, almost like he’s being punished by God, which would make sense really, all things considered, you’re in his eyeline, walking down the street with a woman who is a little older than you, with your notepad and pen clutched in your hand. It’s late and he wonders where you must be going to report at such a late hour, and then he worries, because in his experience, nothing good happens after dark that worth making the newspapers. As the two of you approach him, he leans further out of his open window, holding his arm out to catch your attention. 

“Hey Javi,” You smile, coming to a stop in front of his window, “What are you doing in town?”

“Just picking a few things up,” He answers simply, because this isn’t about him, he needs to know where you’re going, “Where are you going this late?” 

You turn to the older woman you’re with, tell her to go on ahead and you’ll catch her up, “There’s been some kind of drugs bust a few streets over,” You explain, “Sounds like it might be quite big so we’re just going down to see what’s happening.” 

“Your dad working it?” He asks, because if he is, he knows you’ll be okay. 

You shake your head, “Nah, he’s not on nights right now,” You’re shifting back and forth on your feet, clearly itching to get going, “I’ll be alright though, sounds like plenty of dad’s officers are down there.” 

He turns his head back to the steering wheel and then back to you, “Be careful, alright?”

You smile at him again and if he’s not careful, he really could get used to being the person who draws that from you more often, “I know what I’m doing,” You chuckle slightly, and he doesn’t doubt it, not really, “Been covering this kinda shit for a while.” 

Without really thinking about it, he leans over, roots around in the glovebox and pulls out the little card he knows that’s in there. He passes it over to you, letting you take it, “It’s got my number on it,” He explains, “I’ve been in this shit and I just…” He trails off with a sigh, “Just, call me before you write something that might get you in trouble, okay?” 

“Worried about me, Peña?” You smirk, and he thinks above your smile, he’d like to make you smirk more too. 

“I’ve just seen too many good journalists write things that ruin their careers,” He shrugs, trying to play it off but probably doing a terrible job of it, “Don’t want you to make the same mistake.” 

He watches as you turn the card over in your fingers a few times, before smiling at him one last time, “I’ll call you if need you.” And he really hopes you do. 

In that moment, he gives up on trying to resist the call of the liquor store, pulling out his keys from the ignition and opening his door, climbing down onto the pavement. He stalls a little, before he puts a hand on your shoulder and gives it a squeeze, “Go and get your story, reporter.” And then motions his head for you to go. 

He buys a bottle of whiskey and two packs of cigarettes, smokes two of them before he gets home. He thinks if he were a stronger man he’d have managed to quit, but he’s not, especially when it comes to you. Sure, he knew you before, but this new you? He’s known less than a month and he’s already struggling to stick to his own rules. He steps down from his truck back on the ranch, walks in and pours himself a healthy double, trying to convince himself it’ll be okay, he just needs to keep to himself, but when he’s led in bed at night, thinking of your sweet smile, he thinks this might just be another thing he fails at. 

It’s late. Too late for you to be awake when you have to be at the office in the morning, but you can’t stop looking at the series of numbers, printed on the little card, underneath the words ‘Javier Peña, DEA.’ It’s out of date, clearly, the DEA nothing more than a memory to him. But it’s the principle of it that matters most. He’s worried about you, and he would only worry if he cared right? 

You set it on your nightstand, switch off the little lamp and plunge yourself into darkness, right at the same time as you plunge your hand under your sleep shorts and through your folds. You’re soaked, because you always are when you think about him, it’s actually sort of pathetic. You sink two fingers into yourself, only briefly, letting out a satisfied breath, dragging your slick fingers back you to slowly circle your clit. 

It's new, the way you always need to take care of yourself. The brief relationship you’d had in college with James hadn’t given you much to work with, you hadn’t really felt desperation to get yourself off like this before. 

Your other hand, currently running over your peaked nipples through your tank top, is itching to reach across to your nightstand, pick up the phone and dial that number. You want to breathe down the phone at him, tell him you’re being so bad, that you need him to help, need that deep voice to guide you through it. As you press your fingers harder into your clit, speeding up your circles and bucking your hips, you wonder what he’d actually do if you did call him. Would he tell you to get lost? You don’t think he would, you think he’d do exactly as you asked, talk you through it. 

You imagine his voice in your ear, telling you how good you’re being for him. You imagine his hand replacing your own, sinking his fingers into you, using his thumb to work your clit, the rough of his moustache running over the skin of your neck as he kisses you there. It’s the image of him looking down at you, smiling as he makes you cum that tips you over the edge. That flood of relief that rushes through you as you bite down on your bottom lip to keep you from whispering his name as your body shakes through your orgasm. 

You wipe your slick fingers on the skin of your thigh, roll over in bed so your back is to the phone, trying to get your breathing under control. You drag the covers up under your chin, closing your eyes and trying to sleep without imagining his strong arm around your waist, his broad chest against your back. Does he snore? You wonder as you try and fall asleep. Would he keep you warm? It’s all running through your head as you sleep, conjuring up dreams that come morning have you realizing something has to give, you have to know, you have to have him. You needed Javier Peña more than the air you breathe, no matter how bad it was to admit that, no matter what it meant, no matter what it would cost, you needed him and you think to yourself as you drive to work, that he might just need you as much as you need him. 

[therobotmonster]

Let's talk about Toys in Cereal

This is a part of several posts of mine that have gotten big, but I figure it's best to address the phenomenon itself in a new post.

If you want to just browse a ton of cool old cereal toys once we're done, go to: www.cratercritters.com. It's a neat site.

Cereal toys are a long-standing American tradition. Some tag-questions asked if they went away because of greed or because of regulations, and that's complicated.

There are food regulations that complicate things. You may have heard that Kinder Eggs are not legal in the US.

This is usually framed as a "fear the stupid American Kids will eat the toy" kind of thing. This is not the case.

The actual regulation that blocks the Kinder Egg is about food safety from bacterial and undisclosed allergen contamination. Inserting a baggie with a toy into that exposes everything in the cereal bag to the outside of the toy package, and that's a no-no in the US market. The rare thing we're more strict about than the EU.

But that doesn't affect cereal toys, because they can get around it by having it in a separate package outside the food bag, between the inner back and the cardboard box. Much easier on the parents to find when you open the box, too.

Kinder has, themselves, addressed the US Kinder Egg problem the same way, with the Kinder Joy.

Splitting the package. into two sections that are individually sealed.

But a big blow to the practice was the end of the Australian R&L Toy Company.

R&L made tons of simple pack-in Premium toys from the 60s through the 80s. They were the primary supplier to Kelloggs, and made everything from simple one-piece figurines to little build-yourself-action-toys.

For instance, these "Wacky Walkers" worked by tying a string to the figure and the weight, then dropping the weight off a table. The figures would hobble forward on their feet, pulled by the weight. Neat-o!

Then there's stuff like these Toolybirds. I'd sell any one of you to the goblin king for a set of these, because I sure can't afford them at $25 apiece or more. I'll probably just make some dinosaur-knockoff version or somesuch to 3d print, eventually.

R&L went out of business in the 80s and its molds were sold to a toy manufacturing company in Mexico that produced their stuff as bag toys for awhile, before everything just faded away.

Meanwhile, the cereal market was forced to contract elsewhere without a devoted company doing essentially just that.

Liscenses came to the rescue. Fun fact, if you wanted toys from most of the Disney Afternoon, your only hope was Kellogg's.

As time went on, you started even getting software in cereal.

Chex gave out a free, PG-version of DOOM for free. Not a couple of demo levels, a whole game, run on the doom engine, with aliens you zap with a spoon.

But as time went on, companies got less and less into the idea of enticing with freebies, and parents started objecting to the marketing of sugar cereals with toy surprises, because given the opportunity, most parents will blame the company for making something the kid wants for their unwillingness to say "No."

The eternal conflict:

Cool thing the kid would enjoy that you might have to put your foot down over because enforcing moderation is a parent's job, verses unobjectionable conformist mush designed to increase your kids' "goodness levels."

I think the banning of cartoon mascots for snacks in certain countries is also ridiculous.

Thing is, any company could bring them back at any time.

The Monster cereals did figurines of their mascots in cosplay in 2021. Of course, they did it as a limited edition bullshit thing where the actual monster cereal mascots were chase figures, but they made them, they could do them at any time if they wanted to.

They could bring the magic back. Nothing is stopping them.

'cept there's no room for joy on the spreadsheet.

Gotta hit you with a little ennui. It's that ambergris stink that makes the perfume truly sweet.

[sleepyverstappens]

Race engineer Gianpiero Lambiase about bond with Max Verstappen: 'Never again with anyone else'

Although Gianpiero Lambiase is a nice person to be around and also an easy talker, he rarely or never gives interviews. But the down-to-earth Brit is also a man of his word and honors the agreement made at the beginning of this year. The delay makes it extra clear that he does not necessarily have to come to the fore and his extensive range of tasks during a racing weekend logically takes priority. Now that both championships have been won, Lambiase joins me. Who is behind that voice that can be heard so often during Grand Prix? The man who always sounds so calm. Except for that one time, after the Abu Dhabi Grand Prix in 2021. So much so that many people still think that it is not Lambiase who is blaring on the radio, but the then reserve driver Alex Albon. Which is not the case.

Not a partygoer

The calm he so often radiates is one of his great qualities. “I think it is very important to be able to keep a driver calm in the heat of the moment,” said Lambiase. “That's just how I am, that's my character. What also plays a role is that – and I don't want to sound arrogant – I set the bar and my own expectations extremely high. Maybe too high. I want everything to go perfectly and I know full well that that's not possible. But it allows me to quickly rationalize and learn from disappointments. While maybe I don't celebrate the highlights as I could or should. Colleagues here will say that I am not a party goer, but that is just how I am.”

An example of this is the celebration, just hours after Verstappen won his third world title in Qatar. While he (Max) is once again lifted on the shoulders by his mechanics in the Red Bull garage, Lambiase walks with his hands in his pockets and casually walking to the start of the pit lane for the team's next photo opportunity. Another moment, last week in Mexico: when a fan has his picture taken with Lambiase, the local asks the engineer if everything is okay between him and Verstappen. It won't be the first and won't be the last time he hears that. Things sometimes get heated between the two, for example recently in Austin.

“But we never argue. Sometimes it takes more than one or two hours after a race to come together again. We both have adrenaline in our bodies, sometimes you need to have some time for yourself before you say things you will regret. And there are also moments when I think: I could have conveyed that better. Max will have that too. We may have different opinions, but in the evening or the next day it is always okay.”

Honesty underestimated Lambiase has been working at Red Bull since 2015 and has been active as a race engineer for fourteen years, so he knows better than anyone how good the mutual bond should be. “You know what is hugely underestimated? How important a part honesty plays in the relationship between a racing engineer and driver. Being yourself is crucial to working productively and efficiently. The moment you start thinking 'I don't know if I should say that, because he might get angry', you are on a lost cause."

So he is not afraid to push back from the pit wall. “I don't think Max would want it any other way either. He's not someone who wants to walk all over you. He is clear, to the point. That's how he was raised. His father Jos trained him wonderfully. I take over that task to a very small extent on the circuit, through my responsibilities as an engineer. That dynamic seems to work well. I'm not an expert in sports psychology at all, but you have to feel the character of a driver to achieve the optimal. That is something fundamental in my work: being able to trust each other blindly, but also having an eye for the emotional side. Especially nowadays, the mental aspect is increasingly important. It's not just about talent or the car, but how someone can deal with that talent and their emotions.”

In that respect, Verstappen seems to be doing well. And the Limburger has also been working with Lambiase to his full satisfaction since his first day at Red Bull's flagship. In fact, after winning his first world title, he even said that he would quit immediately if his race engineer gave up.

“But I can see through that. First of all, no one is irreplaceable. And secondly: there is no way that when I walk out that door tomorrow, Max's Formula 1 career will be over. It is nice that he says that and it shows how well we treat each other,” says GP, who now also reveals that there is an exclusive collaboration. “The day that Max and I no longer work together in this setting will be the day that I would like to take on a different challenge. I don't think it's fair to any other driver if we try to emulate what I've done with Max since May 2016. I see this as something incredibly special and don't think anything like this will happen again. So I hope that we will continue in this way until 2028 ( Verstappen's current contract runs til 2028, ed.). Unless he or the team decides otherwise of course…”

Important sensor At the pit wall, Lambiase is overloaded with information and data, but he emphasizes how crucial the input from the driver himself is. A regular occurrence during a race, for example, is the Englishman asking his Dutch companion whether he would like a different adjustment of the front wing during the next pit stop.

“We indeed receive a lot of information about the balance of the car and the condition of the tires. But the most important sensor is Max himself. We can make all kinds of assumptions, but these are such small margins. The feedback from a driver is very important.”

Since last year, Lambiase has also been the Head of Race Engineering at Red Bull Racing. As a race engineer, he has previously worked with Vitantonio Liuzzi, Paul di Resta, Verstappen's current teammate Sergio Pérez and his predecessor Daniil Kvyat. But what makes Verstappen so good? Hardly anyone can estimate this better than Lambiase. “In my opinion, he has learned a lot from the difficult moments that occurred in 2017 and 2018. He has developed a racing style that not many drivers have. In recent years he has also proven to be very skilled in risk management. In 2021 he understood that he had to finish every race and could not afford DNFs. That year was so incredibly important for his growth. With that title in his pocket and a competitive car in recent years, he can estimate very well how much risk he has to take on Sunday. And also during the qualifying sessions he knows that he does not always have to show his balls or be the 105 percent version of Max Verstappen.”

"I see this as something incredibly special and don't think anything like this will happen again."

Just as Lambiase says he learned a lot in his twenties during his early years in the world, with teams such as Jordan, Midland and Spyker. “I opened myself up to learning things from the smart people around me. Since then I have gained a lot of experience, also through all the technical and sporting changes in the regulations that have occurred. When Max was promoted to Red Bull in 2016, the days leading up to that first race in Barcelona were very hectic and tense. The expectations were sky-high and as a driver you have the feeling after such an intervention that you cannot disappoint the bosses. Of course, he already had a reputation and we quickly saw that he was an exceptional talent. I knew I was in it for the long haul with Max. That has also proven to be the case.”

Despite the many races and the associated travel, Lambiase is far from tired of his work. “This industry is so dynamic. The goalposts never stand still and we always strive for perfection. The excitement that comes with it is what challenges me. It may seem that way to people, but it is not easy to win even one Formula 1 race. Everything has to be right. You've seen this year in Singapore that when you do it wrong, you have a problem. The fact that Max has now won sixteen of the nineteen races is not just because the car is good. That is mainly because of him, and because we make the right decisions as a team.”

What does a race engineer do?

Four minutes. That's how long it takes Gianpiero Lambiase to briefly and concisely describe his many tasks as a race engineer. This goes much further than just talking to the driver during sessions on the asphalt. “Sometimes I wish that were the case,” he says, smiling. “As a race engineer at Red Bull, I am actually responsible for the entire operation of the car on the track. And I work together with all our specialists in the field of aerodynamics, simulations, the engine, you name it. Everything to try to have the best and efficient package on the track as possible.”

It doesn't stop there. “As is known, most of the development of the car takes place in the factory in England. But we as engineers at the circuit itself have the task of testing these new parts and thus drawing the right conclusions. Sometimes this is for the short term, to benefit from it during the race weekend. But sometimes also for the long term for the design of the car, for example for the following year.”

Of course, the car's setup often involves a lot of tinkering during the weekend itself. “Then it is important that the set-up and balance of the car are to Max's liking. That it doesn't have too much understeer or oversteer. There are hundreds of things we can change mechanically or aerodynamically, based on simulations, but also what we invented ourselves on the track during training. I also think I have an important voice in the strategy. As a race engineer you have a fairly large overview and you are in fact the person between the driver and the team. The driver's feeling is evident. In addition, our feedback to the factory must be good, for example what are the things that Max encounters. That in turn helps them to further develop the car.”

​

[coimbrabertone]

Building a Schedule for Indycar: the Struggles of a Recovering Series.

So, in the past week, the shoe dropped - Indycar announced they were going to Fox for 2025. People immediately got fired up, worried that all the worst features of the Fox NASCAR booth were going to infect Indycar and kneecap a series that has such good racing and needs to grow.

Ultimately though, I don't think that's going to be all that much of a problem, actually.

IMS Productions will remain involved in the television product and Fox will put every race on network Fox. That I think is a good thing, and it should give Indycar an opportunity to grow.

What I'm more interested in, however, is the 2025 schedule dropped today as well, and that...disappointed me quite a bit.

The schedule is more or less the same as 2024, with two caveats: one is that Thermal Club is going to be a points race now, and Milwaukee will be a single race instead of a doubleheader like it's scheduled to be in 2024.

This...isn't particularly good.

The biggest reason has little to do with Indycar. That is that, like I've talked about before, NASCAR is flirting with going international as soon as 2025, and it's no secret that they've been flirting with Autodromo Hermanos Rodriguez in Mexico City, and the Circuit Gilles Villeneuve in Montreal. Both of which hosted Nationwide Series races as recently as the 2000s, but they would be firsts for the Cup series.

The only previous Cup races outside of the US were exhibition events. Calder Park, Australia in 1988, Suzuka, Japan in 1996 and 1997, and then Twin Ring Motegi, also in Japan, in 1998.

Indycar, meanwhile, has a long series of international races - see my Champ Car: the World Series that Actually Was blogpost for details there - but that has disappeared. In 2024 and 2025, Toronto will be the only Indycar race outside of the United States.

That is not good enough.

In terms of drivers, Indycar is as international as it has ever been, but the newest race on the calendar is the return to the Milwaukee Mile. I think that's neat, but, with all due respect, nobody in Milwaukee gives a crap about seeing Rinus VeeKay racing against Linus Lundqvist. Go to Europe, particularly to a track that has been ignored and mistreated by F1, and you might just have an audience that does want to see those guys race.

Even if Europe is too much, too soon, what about Pato's rabid popularity in Mexico? What about the long history of Indycar drivers from Brazil? What about the fact that between Scott McLaughlin, Scott Dixon, and Will Power, about half the guys that have won this season have been won by guys from New Zealand and Australia. Tap into that market.

If you don't, well...half the Supercars field is moonlighting in NASCAR these days and Kyle Busch is now being linked with a Bathurst 1000 ride.

If Indycar doesn't start planning something now, NASCAR is going to beat them to down under as well.

I feel passionately that Indycar needs to expand internationally again. I'm not saying that it needs to be all it once, but please, start doing something, because your rivals aren't standing still.

And now for the other problem.

Ovals are a hard sell nowadays. I understand that. They're far away from city centers, many have underwhelming amenities, and a lot of casuals see it and just think it's a bunch of left turns. I understand all of that, however...

The Indianapolis 500 is the only big oval left on the schedule. It is the only track 1.5 miles or larger on the schedule, and it will be next year as well.

That is a problem.

More than that, it is starting to show in the oval racing product. A stat came out after the Indianapolis 500 saying that Josef and Pato have finished 1-2 eight times in recent history. Looking into it more specifically, six of those are on ovals dating back to Gateway 2020. Since then, only two indycar oval races have featured a top two that did not include either Josef or Pato:

Texas 2021 race one, when Scott Dixon won over Scott McLaughlin. Indianapolis 2021, when Helio Castroneves won over Alex Palou. More broadly, going back to Texas 2020, the top two oval finishes include the following drivers: Scott Dixon, Simon Pagenaud, Josef Newgarden, Will Power, Takuma Sato, Patricio O'Ward, Scott McLaughlin, Helio Castroneves, Marcus Ericsson, and David Malukas.

That is ten drivers.

Simon Pagenaud, Takuma Sato, and Helio Castroneves have all more or less retired.

Down to seven.

Of the remaining seven, Pato O'Ward and David Malukas are the only ones that can really be described as young. Marcus Ericsson and Scott McLaughlin are older, but they came from F1 and Supercars, respectively, so I can count them in the new pile as well.

Other than those four, the ovals have been dominated by experienced guys who have been in Indycar for years.

There is a severe lack of top end oval talent from the young drivers in Indycar. One reason for that is that the Freedom 100 is gone, and IndyNXT drivers don't get much preparation for the big tracks.

The other is that Texas Motor Speedway is gone too, so those young drivers, whether they be from IndyNXT or the European ladder, aren't getting that experience in Indycar either.

At minimum, Indycar should put one of their smaller ovals ahead of the Indianapolis 500 to make sure drivers are prepared for the 500.

Beyond that, then I think Indycar should make it a priority to add one or two big ovals to the schedule. Return to TMS, revive an old race like Homestead, Kansas, or Michigan, go to one of the unused NASCAR tracks like Kentucky or Chicagoland, I'm not being picky. Just do something to make sure our drivers are getting experience on these types of tracks.

Otherwise, you're just going to keep seeing Josef Newgarden win on the ovals, occasionally challenged by Pato O'Ward, one of his Penske teammates in the form of McLaughlin or Power, or Scott Dixon pulling some bullshit fuel strategy out of his asshole.

I understand that purists are happy about Milwaukee coming back, I understand that there is a portion of the fanbase that desperately wants the Cleveland airport race to come back, but I ask the fans to think of this: what does Milwaukee do that Iowa doesn't? What does Cleveland do that Mid-Ohio or Toronto don't?

I'm not saying this to disparage Milwaukee or Cleveland either. I like that Milwaukee is back and I'd love to see a Cleveland revival as much as anyone else, but those won't really move the needle.

What I think might is an international expansion.

What I think might is more opportunities for Indycar to show off that brilliant racing from the Indianapolis 500 - all the reactions coming out of Indy were about how people can't wait to see that again. Well, they got to wait a year for it. Indy is all we got in terms of superspeedway racing.

Just after we got two back-to-back good races at Texas though, with a Penske duel in 2022, and Pato dominating 2023 before a caution gave Josef Newgarden the opportunity to snatch a win.

Indycar is a long way off the peaks of the CART era and everyone has different ideas on how to get the series back on the right track, but in my opinion, these are the two most important things schedule wise. Tap into the international market and get on the big ovals again. Both because the series needs to, and because that 200+ mile per hour racing product is something super special that only Indycar has.

On a more personal note...

I usually try to post these on Monday but I'm a bit behind on my AO3 writing right now so I wanted to get this out of the way now. I might have a small blogpost out next week coming out of the 24 Hours of Le Mans, but consider this the main blogpost for June 17th.

In the meantime, I have a chapter for my NASCAR story to finish, and then I need to have a chapter for my CART story done by the 23rd.

No rest for the wicked.

[bunnytalksf1]

Charles Leclerc is the lone star of Austin

What a race.

Ferrari had the fastest car. The sprint disguised it because Sainz decided to fight with his teammate harder than literally anyone else on the track, but the win was in reach there, too, and the squabbling somewhat disguised it. Regardless, especially on the mediums, the pace was great, and even if Verstappen and Norris hadn't squabbled at turn one, Ferrari would have been in touching distance of that win. A brilliant and bold and calculated move by Leclerc from the even side of the grid in turn one gave him the lead, and he never looked back, managing a safety car restart and his tyres to build a gap of eight seconds at the flag to his teammate. After the successful undercut on Verstappen, the Ferraris simply became untouchable, and the scuderia got its second 1-2 of the season. Genuinely brilliant result for them, putting them back in touch with the constructors', and a much better result than last year's DSQ for Leclerc.

So, with the Ferraris both so far adrift that the TV direction ignored them the whole time, what else happened?

The most glaring: Verstappen extended his championship lead on Norris, finishing ahead of him in both the sprint and the GP, after penalties. I might do a seperate post talking about stewarding because there's been a lot of complaining going on about decisions this weekend, but-- I digress.

Norris came into Austin needing to outscore Verstappen by an average of ten points a weekend in order to beat him to the WDC. That number is now twelve. Regardless of the outcome of the penalty (which, according to the rulebook was justified), Norris would not have gotten the points he needed this weekend unless he won, or caught Sainz, which didn't look to be happening. Verstappen drove an incredible defense for ten laps which not only had me biting my fist, but genuinely deserved to give him a punt at dotd, which he sadly did not win, but my God, incredible.

Lewis Hamilton spun out on like, lap two, and the ensuing safety car gave me an actual heart attack, but George Russell, without the upgrades, drove from the pitlane to P6, in an incredible stint on the hards to start before hunting on the mediums. Mercedes may well rescind some upgrades into Mexico, since they seemed to not effect the balance very well when looking at GR's crash in quali and Hamilton's in the race. Regardless, a missed opportunity for Mercedes here, they had pace.

The long first stint followed by the hunt on the medium also worked well for Lawson, who drove from P19 to P9 to secure two points for RB. Strategy really helped him out, but it was a phenomenal drive from him.

I don't have much to say about this race other than it was chaotic. A lot was going on in the midfield all the time, enough that I couldn't really keep track. Colapinto again hung Albon out to dry, Perez was miles off Verstappen, and the Haases had a really solid weekend. On to Mexico!

[catenary-chad]

Why “steam oppression” fundamentally fails as a social metaphor and I do not respect canon Rusty as a character (and will never portray him positively)

Disclaimer: this is nothing against performers.  It is a very top-down criticism largely aimed at writers and higher staff and purely about train history and politics.  I’d be neutral to positive on Rusty if he was anything but a steam engine in the time period he’s in.  But as-is, he is an immensely hateable character the more you actually know about trains.  He is so compellingly and deeply hateable he would actually be an amazing villain. 

Anyways, here’s my manifesto on why I am this way.  It’s not stuff like “he’s annoying” this is actually stupidly long, detailed, thorough, and weirdly politically serious. Sources are very scattered but if you want one for a specific claim, I’m happy to provide. 

The ironic thing about Rusty is that he first pissed me off BECAUSE I’m actually familiar with the Railway Series and the irl context behind those books.  They were very intelligently written and realistic but also of their time and place.  The steam-diesel conflict was very specifically based on the 60s-era transition in the UK and it just does not translate to other time periods.  Steam preservation was in full swing by the 80s, they were not rounding up and scrapping or abandoning them at that point, groups were grabbing basically everything salvageable from Barry Scrapyard.  So I could smell that he was a poorly-executed knockoff and his framing was patently ahistorical from the start. If I weren’t this way I might eat up his concept hook, line, and sinker like the rest of the fandom.  But I’m not, and the more I’ve read the more I get actively pissed at his concept beyond finding him merely cliche.  It’s kind of staggering just how deep my hatred for him has continued to become

So now I will give a hard counter to just about every social metaphor I’ve seen ascribed to him. 

Discrimination-

When steam engines were officially banned from places, it was for reasons like “asphyxiating and possibly even killing people in tunnels” “being a legitimate fire hazard due to stray sparks” and/or “being absolutely filthy”.  I think you can see why this is a really terrible idea for fantasy racism.  And for what it’s worth, diesel and electric engines have also been barred from some places for these reasons too (diesel fumes in tunnels, electric sparks around explosives).  This direction fails because “discrimination” against most forms of traction irl are generally for very justified safety reasons. 

Ableism-

This almost works, if the show was set in the 50s or 60s I might be able to respect this angle.  Steam engines had terrible uptime due to how long it takes to fire them up/down and way higher physical maintenance than anything diesel or electric.  They just genuinely can’t do as much work as well as diesel or electric engines could (with the caveat that early British diesel engines were largely a dumpster fire).  The problem is in the preservation era, tourist lines got downright EXTRAVAGANT with how far they’d go to accommodate steam engines.  This was the era when they were pulling Duke of Gloucester out of a scrapyard and managing to fix its mechanical faults so it finally ran right.  This was when Disney bought decrepit narrow gauge steam engines from Mexico and replicated a lot of their parts because it was still better than acquiring a new build.  Clinchfield Railroad #1 eventually could only make enough steam to run its whistle and got scooted around with two B-unit diesel engines disguised as baggage cars.  So you have the huge issue that Rusty actually COULD “just get a job” and probably have multiple places fighting over him and offering him any physical help he needed. Especially as a small, mechanically functional switcher.  Those are VERY valuable vs larger engines on short, slow museum lines.  Even among diesel and electric engines there are far more opportunities for smaller models at them because you just don’t need or want something larger, faster, and higher maintenance.  Just look at any museum/heritage line roster.

Classism-

You could make a case that the very last non-tourist revenue steam engines were in poor, rural areas where fuel and labor were cheap and there wasn’t access to any better technology.  We’re talking coal mines in rural China and sugar cane plantations.  But then you have the problem that being “left behind” is actually the most favorable thing for steam engines.  For how much Greaseball is posed as the conservative establishment (and this is an accurate depiction of diesel power in the US), steam was the previous, even more conservative establishment!  There’s nothing “young” or upstart about it, it was around for 150+ years when the show came out and was thoroughly bested by electric traction as early as the turn of the century, but largely held on due to the expense of electrification, maturity and established infrastructure of steam technology, and lack of need for the advantages of electrification in many areas.  Sheer inertia vs actual technological merit.  Destruction and technological stalling in electric/diesel engine development during and after WWII easily gave steam another decade or two in the US and western Europe.  And modernization was its infamous death knell in the UK after all. 

As for why lines clung to steam engines longer in wealthier countries, it also wasn’t a rich vs poor thing.  Steam engines have absolutely colossal labor costs in terms of maintenance vs diesel engines and far lower uptime (30ish percent).  Broke railroads like the New York Central were often faster at totally axing it if anything.  The ones that held on longer?  Usually coal haulers that wanted to keep that power source relevant, like the C&O or N&W.  You want a “poor” train?  Try a battery-powered mining “lokie” that railfans often forget exist, or decrepit diesel switcher that’s bounced down the ladder over 70 years, or one-off “critter” built out of spare parts.  One of the weird Nacionales de Mexico SLP diesels made of frankensteined scrap engines would be an AWESOME basis for Ferro since there was a lot of local pride in their ingenuity and resourcefulness.  The last couple freight lines with steam engines in the US were mostly side gigs for tourist operations or short lines with railfan owners willing to float them along as a novelty.  On the other hand, there’s a totally non-touristy freight shortline in a sad town in Iowa with 100+ year old steeplecab electrics with trolley poles that are likely the older locomotives in revenue service in the US (Iowa Traction Railway).  

Now, to directly challenge some lines given in songs

“This was not the dream I dreamed when they first let my fire/mainline coaches streamed behind as my steam rose higher/switching and hitching at everyone’s call hadn’t occurred in my vision at all”

Most dedicated switchers top out at maybe highway speeds at absolute max, probably closer to 30 mph or even walking pace.  Look, you could make a compelling plot about being fundamentally unsuited for your dream job.  But a switcher farting around at that slow a pace on a major rail line is like riding a horse and buggy on a major highway, during rush hour, where everyone else is getting screamed at by their bosses for being late and threatened with termination.  And you wonder why they hate him so much?  This is especially infuriating with just how ugly mainline train conditions were in the 70s-80s US, this guy could just get a comparatively cushy museum job instead of getting in the way at something he’s cartoonishly unqualified to do that’s wildly unglamorous vs his romantic conceptions anyways.  Dear god just read anything about actual mainline rail in the US from WWII-80s.  It was ROUGH.  This was the era of bankruptcies, mergers, Amtrak being created to save passenger rail from taking down the whole system because it had become such a money pit.  Just looking at photos, maintenance was in dire straights.  But you know what was on the up and up?  Steam preservation.  Amusement parks were even buying new build ones for park trains after they ran out of historical ones to rebuild.  If Rusty was actually a new-build steam engine, he’d probably be one of those, and there’s not way he WOULDN’T have been wanted, you don’t just accidentally buy a very niche piece of antiquated machinery only valued in the tourism market. 

“Didn’t have the chances didn’t have the breaks”

“Wasn’t in the right place at the right time”

Already discussed earlier but steam VERY MUCH got both of these around WWII.  

“You along have the power within you/needn’t ask the world to turn around and help you” and “with steam you’ll be under your own control” 

Are blatant references/dogwhistles for Reagan/Thatcherite politics.  That part’s even agreed to be deliberate even by the critics of the day and even actors in the show, and becomes downright sinister when you remember how much bootstrapping was weaponized against the poor to destroy social programs and blame their woes on their personal choices.  This is also a massive part of why the social metaphor part of Rusty makes him WILDLY hateable, he’s just so blatantly written by out of touch rich white guys in line with a catastrophic conservative agenda with a long and proven track record of just making things worse.  Not to mention it’s been terrible for trains in both the US and UK, lack of investment and privatization are major reasons why they suck compared to most similarly wealthy countries.  And as a bonus: steam engines physically caused more damage to infrastructure by corroding wires with smoke/steam and hammer blow to the track. Much like how those policies lead to lack of investment in infrastructure and even outright destruction of government agencies in favor of privatization (that usually is less efficient and profit rather than service-driven).  Nothing has made me MORE of a big government type than getting into trains because passenger and electric rail are near impossible for private business to sustain long term.  Hell, the Starlight Sequence is arguably “Tomorrow Belongs to Me” but for trains, under the veneer of sentiment is an ugly political message spelling all their doom and you probably fell for the propaganda. It’s the kind of song you play over stats about how little money Reagan and his successors have given Amtrak over headlines about the Northeast Corridor’s infrastructure problems. That’s what it’s calling for and it’s horrifying if you are a French/German/etc train from a country with a nationalized system. 

Anyways, my unhinged and increasingly conspiratorial rant about Rusty’s massive parallels to Reagan are at the very end of this post.  I’ve tried to keep this main section mostly based on established fact and that side of things starts falling into more bad faith interpretation.  

MY PROBLEMS WITH STEAM IN THE MEDIA 

On one hand, I will actively cheer on characters being mean to Rusty because he is just so justifiably hateable.  On the other hand, the anti-steam stuff in canon makes me bonk my head against a wall because it reminds me of God Isn’t Dead.  It’s just wildly fictionalized and completely counter to real-life sentiment, acting like the whole world hates something that is culturally dominant and wildly lionized irl that if anything, you’ll get more backlash for criticizing.

I went to the Railroad Museum of Pennsylvania the other day. A railroad with a prominent electrified division and several unique electric engines in the museum.  The model displays and gift shop were all steam engines and some early diesels with some token GG1s.  Which are an amazing token and fully deserving of their iconic status but this was a railroad with a rich and influencial history of electrification and the rest of it gets glossed over.  The kids’ books in the shop?  95% about little steam engines.  I think there was one diesel and one caboose.  Think about it, 

The Little Engine that Could, Casey Jr, Thomas and the army of his knockoffs- it’s harder to think of fictional talking train characters who AREN’T small steam engines, especially in the Anglosphere.  Even Pixar’s Metro seems to have slapped random steam engines into a city that literally banned them at the turn of the century.  I wish it was known if this was a plot point or steamwashing, a weirdly prevalent phenomenon where media incorrectly shows steam trains in places where they would be electric (or sometimes diesel).  

From a toy train angle?  Don’t make me laugh most companies have steam, diesel and “token GG1” in the US. The cheaper you go, the more it’s all just steam engines and maybe an F-unit or some kind of freight diesel, but you won’t see anything electric besides maybe a trolley or Acela-adjacent train.  And as another mark against the classism angle, electric engines or trolleys used to be the cheap option in the early days (pre-WWII) because it took a lot less detail to make a box with windows and even weirder shaped models like NYC S-motors and Milwaukee Road Bipolars were much simpler to make than steam engines shape/detail wise.  

Why do I feel so strongly about this?  Because rail electrification an actually relevant political topic in the Anglosphere that most people know very little about. I’d be a lot more lenient on all of this if it were Japanese, or if electrification had been a done deal worldwide and not a grinding, slow fight most people don’t even know about. Yes, I get fucking pissed at how finding historical info about electric trains usually involves major digging online or even buying physical books and much of train media is stuck in the 60s (and often ignores electric history outside the token GG1).  Meanwhile children’s media is overloaded with irrelevant choo choos perpetually painted as underdogs while their MASSIVE faults are glossed over and it just perpetuates the cycle of disconnection from current train politics in favor of fighting over boomer-era steam vs diesel arguments. 

REPRESENTATION MATTERS

It sounds absurd to apply to trains, but it really does.  I was only into boomer trains before Electra and was largely detached from their modern problems.  A lot of people into US electric trains only got into them because of old tinplate trains or models popularized by the toy market because their history is otherwise such an obscure thing for anyone under the age of 50 and/or outside urban areas.  And even on the UK side, it’s a running thread on Railnatter that a lot of people just don’t know the reasons behind the issues in modern rail, what jobs there are available, the actual benefits of electrification (freight is something that battery/hydrogen is NOT a feasible solution for for power density reasons), and that electrification and rail infrastructure is a really “unsexy”, still genuinely nerdy topic.  

It’s something that there’s not really a lot of entry level, beginner-friendly media on, you just go straight to transit youtubers yelling at you or niche books that are often a bit too technical for the layperson.  

As I mentioned before, part of why I’ve always been really critical of Rusty is that kids media is absolutely SWAMPED with steam engines.  Unless you live somewhere with them, you’re just not that likely to encounter and get emotionally attached to electric trains at an early age.  Which is most of the US, Canada, and Australia, even a good hunk of the UK.  You crank out yet another steam underdog story and you’ll probably get more people interested in preservation that lose interest after the 60s, check out from their modern politics, and see electric trains as magical boxes.  Even as an antagonist with a lot of inaccurately and unfairly negative traits, Electra was what made me dig into electrification history and uncover this huge rabbit hole and weird counternarrative that’s just been ignored.  It’s mystifying and kind of aggravating that almost nobody else seems to have gone that far into the character’s real life background vs eating the “rich, unreliable, futuristic and unattainable” thing hook line and sinker and cranking out stuff that’s just… tragically and offensively off base to the reality of electrification.  It’s so frustrating because this one of the only major electric train characters in Anglophone mass media!  Hell, the layperson probably has a better idea of lesbians are like and people are still massively critical of Girlball for falling into offensive stereotypes.  

It sounds dismissive to compare actual objects to people but… rail electrification IS an important political issue in many countries that flies under the radar and can do way more good than most people realize.  It’s basically the most efficient form of transportation there is but it’s passed off as mundane and even weak!  So many pollution-related deaths can be spared per year with them vs cars and even combustion-powered trains.  But it’s something you only really see in statistics that’s not very visible.

Roger Rabbit having a streetcar plot made a lot of people aware of their rise and fall.  People tend to dig into hydrogen as a power source to learn more about Hydra and end up actually pretty critical of it. I wish Pixar’s Metro had happened because it would have filled that huge modern, urban gap for train media and seemed to have some interesting concepts going on.  

While a lot of my opinions are sacrilegious, I think a lot of the attempts at social messaging in the show have a lot of potential if reinvented to be more relevant and accurate.  Because that’s usually more interesting!  Imagine the impact a show about the actual setbacks and problems of electrification in the US and UK would be.  A lot of them parallel the perils of defunding social programs and tie in so much better to a narrative about racism or classism than romanticizing something that was the conservative establishment of tech in the early 20th century and legitimately outclassed by technology that actually was held back development-wise by WWII.

Counterpoints:

What about coal and emissions restrictions affecting heritage rail today?

This could be a genuinely interesting topic for talking train media but the real enemy in that case would be autos not facing the same harsh restrictions or governments using the “no carrots, only sticks” approach by not funding clean alternatives and just banning inefficient combustion vehicles (even for occasional use in small numbers) 

What about legit issues of classism like electrification/rail improvement projects being centered on rich areas (see Caltrain and UK rail investment being very London-centered)? 

Also something with potential, but the answer isn’t demonizing an efficient, proven method of transport (electrified rail) in the face of a dirty, inefficient, overall harmful “everyman” solution like cars or combustion engines, it’s promoting its expansion to poorer areas too.  I will also raise the point that underinvestment has been a major historic and current threat to electric trains world over (see the history of interurbans and many de-electrified lines in the US, similar problems also exist in southern England).  And in the broader scope of things, rich countries aren’t always the most electrified (see the US, Canada, and Australia vs India), it’s more a matter of government priorities, politics, and geography.  

Fireless engines?

I’m actually totally down for a fireless steam vs battery electric vs diesel switcher faceoff…. they just don’t belong anywhere near mainlines and aren’t known for speed.  Would be fantastic in a cartoon setting since fireless engines are well suited to factories, mines, and other popular funny cartoon backdrop settings.  They’re a weird and niche piece of tech that’s well suited to specific settings and has had a bit of an uptick in recent use.  

What about the “overpowered steam shunter” thing that happens with cheap toy trains like Smokey Joe?

This would be a hilarious angle if overpowered steam switchers weren’t so painfully cliche.  It was an actual thing that some small low-end switcher models had unusually powerful motors for their size that didn’t work well at low speeds for actual switching but could make them go the scale equivalent of 300+ mph. 

“X character is too old/anachronistic too!”

Oh, I have counterarguments for basically all of those! 

Greaseball-  Early 80s is really pushing it for an E/F unit in passenger use and UP ditched their passenger services a decade earlier…. but those specific models were very popular on corporate business trains, including UPs!  They used E9s (common fanon pick tor Greaseball) as their main power until a few years ago when they started having wheel issues.  Greaseball as a corporate pawn/propagandist is actually kind of awesome tbh

40s/50s era coaches-

lol, look up the Amtrak heritage fleet.  They used stuff this old well into the 2010s.  As a general rule, early-mid 20th century American railcars by companies like Budd and Pullman are built like absolute tanks.  Several commuter agencies still use 50s-60s era gallery cars, VIA rail still runs stuff as old as 1947, and all those Amfleet coaches used on Amtrak are nearly 50.  

Dome cars-

They were used less in the Amtrak era but still existed in substantial numbers… and had a revival in the late 80s!  Look into Rader/Colorado Railcar and their crazy double-decker Ultradomes (often made from old gallery cars), which are mostly used on high end “land cruise” trains.  So there’s your first class AND dome Pearl, who would also be Vegas Showgirl tier tall… but probably shouldn’t go too fast, especially around curves. 

Caboose- Joke’s on you, these are still occaisonally used for a variety of things and weren’t too rare in the 80s.  Notoriously, the Lac Megantic disaster train had a caboose used to hold Locotrol equipment, so there’s an explanation for how a “caboose” could control brakes (though it wouldn’t work on a steam engine) 

Poppa/Momma- makes way more sense to be in the story than Rusty actually.  Mainline steam excursions were more common in the US in the 80s before insurance issues caught up with them and many railroads banned them.  

OLC Belle- Old Pullman cars are stupid common in museum and excursion settings, again, they are BUILT LIKE TANKS.  

Electra as a CC 40100- It was a pretty weird pick to begin with, not sure if it was chosen for Electra because it looked cool and “80s” despite being older or because of the Trans Europ Express relation, the Kraftwerk song of that name directly mentions David Bowie.  But these were still running and relevant in the early 80s.  There’s actually an operational one in preservation too!  They were actually some of the shortest lived Nez Cassé classes, others lasted well into the 2000s and even now and Slovenia and other countries still routinely run them.  

(Never underestimate how absurdly old rolling stock can be.  Outside of steam engines and cabooses ans heavy restrictions on 40+ year old freight cars in the US,  you actually have a crapton of downright ancient cars and engines in revenue, non-tourist service.  There is a reason why I say realism is anything but boring- it gives you a bunch of totally real possibilities way more interesting than media cliches)

——-

Bonus: unhinged political rant about specific modern-day unintended parallels.  This is where I get way more conspiratorial and vitriolic

I’ve gone on about how preservation makes anti-steam sentiment as given stupid.  But you know what did go out of favor in the late 30s and was treated as downright laughable to go back to after the 50s, just like the regular revenue use of steam locos in the US?  

The kind of small-government conservatism Reagan preached.  And the steam engines in the show promote.  Barry Goldwater was openly mocked for it in the mid-60s.  It was thought genuinely unthinkable to go back to.  

Also a funny aside: probably 90% of those new build Crown Metal steam engines were dressed up in western themes.  Literally cowboy actors, just like Reagan was.  

Anyways, steam tourist lines actually do pretty great under private business.  I’ve been surprised by how most of the ones in the US are for-profit.  They also broadly benefit from lower regulations (increased safety standards after a boiler explosion in Gettysburg in the 80s led to end of Crown Metal Products because it wasn’t as easy to run real steam engines anymore).  Rusty and Momma/Poppa focus on emotional appeals and “remember the good ol days??” and “computers bad!” sentiment with basically no concrete arguments or facts.  EXACTLY LIKE REAGAN.  Seriously, I talked to my boomer mom about how she remembered him (she hates him for taking her student aid) and she just kept naming stuff that canon specifically does to make steam engines look appealing.  I’ll spare repeating my extended rant on how Electra’s framing vs actual electric trains closely parallels slander of “liberals” and government agencies and assistance in general, I already made that post.

Now time for some really ugly modern parallels.  Rusty has some blatantly nice guy/incel-ish tendencies with expecting Pearl to be into him, insistance only on her and complaining about being alone (when he’s a legitimately unappealing partner).  There’s actually some very compelling threads to him about despair politics and how they’re weaponized, it’s a pertinant thing in rail.  Have people get fixated on a glamorous past and vaguely mad that it’s gone and impossible to bring back, while not explaining what actually happened.  Which just stalls actual development and improvement and interest in modern rail economics and politics (and conveniently ties back into my aggravation at steam oversaturation in train media).

Greaseball is depicted as a shitty establishment (and fairly and accurately so) but what are the alternatives to him?  Progress or regression?  Guess which one canon frames as deviant and malicious and which one as good.  Now how do mainstream narratives often frame progressive solutions to current problems vs regressive conservative ones that have failed repeatedly in the early 20th century but have often fallen out of direct memory over 80+ years?  Treating steam as a good thing is just like how coal-fired steam engines were briefly considered as a solution to the past oil crisis vs just electrifying more lines.  Fine, criticize the establishment, they suck!  But fixing a broken leg by just sawing it off is a stupid approach.  I get the appeal to being an edgy contrarian, I am one myself, but sometimes the alternative is WORSE.  

So we have “bad contrarian answer to actual problems”, a character who is very incel loser-adjacent, who is wildly unqualified for a race he enters and pushes fossil fuels, who represents the older, ugly conservative establishment but still cries about being an underdog and hated despite DOMINATING the media.  And then almost all the things pinned on competitors (unreliable, high maintenance, cheating on an uphill race against a steam engine, which are atrocious at that specifically) are the EPITOME of “every accusation is a confession” when you learn they’re things way more applicable to steam engines irl

Also he’s orange.  And one of his more popular actors was THE original Turnov.  Which is hilarious if definitely accidental.  

Can you see why I REALLY hate him for political reasons?  It’s so absurdly serious for a character who probably never had this level of thought put into him but it just goes so deep and becomes so accidentally compelling. Even with barely any changes besides framing he’d become a surprisingly nuanced villain.  And way more fitting to the agenda of a certain car-pushing anti-train electric oligarch  multiple people have compared Electra to (which pisses me the fuck off because that guy is a train hater and fundamentally opposed to everything non-battery electric trains require and would stand for) 

[quietbluejay]

Transformers: Devastation #1

Nightbeat time!

and a surprise kitty guest star (yes, it's exactly who you think I mean)

Nightbeat is looking at it under a microscope while holding it with tweezers

he's not sure how it plays into the Sunstreaker mystery

and...

he scratches his chin as he thinks, well, that's how they were found

then he calls up Bumblebee. He's got a job for him...

but now, time to present his theory to Optimus

Optimus asks if he's sure, which gives Nightbeat the opportunity to exposit I like this Nightbeat, ngl

he summarizes what they know (which we found out in earlier miniseries):

the rogue dude got the info from the bunker

he took a bunch of digital images which he downloaded to the palm pilot

meanwhile Thundercracker and the Runatwins were sent after him

and then Ratchet got involved and the device got brought here to the Ark

so, he figures whoever this rogue dude's boss is doesn't see a difference between Autobot and Decepticon - they just wanted to get a Cybertronian

so he asked Bumblebee to look around the shore of Lake Michigan

he found....

so they were watching for weeks

Prowl wants to know who and why

Nightbeat doesn't have an answer on either!

"…I'm sure we'll find out soon enough"

this is Hot Rod by the by

they've managed to track Ironhide down to Warsaw and he's scheduled to be crushed in some impound lot or something

when they open at 6am

they have a bit less than 45 minutes

Hot Rod figures that's plenty of time but hey any excuse to race

back to the Ark ground

Optimus: recommendations?

Bumblebee thinks about putting a virus to backtrack them

Optimus claps his hands together and says to do it. They've been on the defensive for too long

and now...

blorbo time! note the guys hanging back in the corridor

absolutely incredible 10/10

finger guns

the Decepticons are NOT happy with Sixshot being here

so much for all that strategy

they think Megatron's lost it, but who's gonna tell him that

Astrotrain: I know who might

and now back to the USSR and no I will not get tired of making that joke

we're in Brasnya again!

Agent Red mutters something about 26 years in the making

wavage!

they're using some kind of mind control on him to track down other Cybertronians

back on the Ark, Verity and Jimmy aren't happy that it seems like no one is doing anything to find Hunter, and they harass Jazz who is carrying a load of stuff

Jazz deals with them a little awkwardly but sympathetically, but says "not now"

the two of them decide what they need...

oh no not you

incredible

Hound gives Sideswipe a look and apologizes to Optimus

Optimus tells Hound he's going to have Jetfire take over from him. His squad are going to Earth

this is the point of no return...

Astrotrain: Say it. Say the name...

o w o

back to Lake Michigan

prowl's lights are weird again

they're flying to the Gulf of Mexico. Their ETA is like 10min. huh. Flight path is clear

stealth procedures are in place

it's time to go

they rise up off the lake floor

however, someone is watching from above

oh ew you but also, it's wild ratbat wasn't stuck with the rest of the casseticons

Megatron sends out Sixshot and orders him...

"No survivors"

Bee: civilian and military wavebands are clear. no red flags

Nightbeat: four minutes and thirty-two seconds to destination

did they…even tell hunter and verity that they're moving??

uh oh, there's an incoming something...coming fast at them

they can't shake him, he's more maneuverable than them

Prowl: everyone! brace for impact!

Sixshot fires

and the issue ends on that

[gossipsnake]

TIMING: Summer, 2011 LOCATION: Tabasco, Mexico PARTIES:  Anita, Selena Nieves (mother), and Alejandro Nieves (father) SUMMARY: A flashback to the last time Anita saw her mother, when she was 22. CONTENT: emotional manipulation/bad parent-child relationship

“When we let you go to America, when we let you go see what was out there in the world, I thought you were smart enough to understand that it was only temporary. You wanted to go off, to learn about insects, to see more of the world, to meet different kinds of lamia… yes? And you have gone off, you have done that, yes? Yes, of course you have! Four years, Anita. Four years you have taken our money, our good will, and left our family with one less member contributing to our livelihood and our protection. I let you because your father convinced me you just needed to get it all out of your system - these foolish ideas of school and of leaving your family. And now here we are - you went off and you played dress up, you lived among the humans and you played your part pretending to be one of them. Instead of being gracious for that opportunity now you say you are not done? You love humans that much, is that it?”

Anita hadn’t expected her family to show up to her undergraduate graduation ceremony, not really anyway. Foolishly perhaps she held out hope that her father might have come but she knew that he would not defy his wife just to please his daughter. Would they have come had they known that would be the exact moment that she decided to accept the offer to go to graduate school, as she walked across the stage to collect her college diploma to the sound of silence? “This has nothing to do with humans, I’ve told you that countless times. I despise them as you do, mama. But the things I have been able to learn, the things I get to do in these classes…” 

“Do not pretend this is about the bugs. All of a sudden there are not enough bugs here for you to look at? For you to put in your little containers and take notes about? Your father works with bugs every single day! That is your path, to work with him, take over the business, keep providing for the family. What is the problem? You want bugs, and this is bugs.”

Looking over at her father as he sat across the room in silence almost felt like a louder act of disappointment to Anita than the lecture she was receiving from her mother. Had they discussed this all before she came home? Did he agree, or did he just not care to protest? “I had the second highest grades within my major,” she said softly knowing the achievement would not be met with any positive impression. “I just want to keep learning. You always speak about how connected we are, by our nature, to the natural world around us. Is it so bad to want to learn more about that world?” 

“To want to learn about it from humans? Yes, Anita, that really is so bad. The fact that you do not realize that? Well that is proof enough that you have spent too much time among them, too much time away from your family. If you find it impressive that you have sat before them, obedient, responsive, answering their questions, performing tasks at their request all for them to judge your ability to do so against humans … then perhaps you are too far gone.”

“Selena,” a flutter of hope rushed through Anita when she heard her father finally speak, seemingly signaling that she had gone too far. But it seemed his flutter of confidence didn’t last quite as long as her flutter of hope had. “No, I mean it.” Selena retorted, standing up and raising her hands up in exasperation, “I did not raise my daughters to want to be around humans for any reason other than to eat them. No daughter of mine would be sitting here and saying these things. This person sitting here… she is not my daughter. ” 

Her father didn’t say another word as her mother exited the room without so much as a final glance in Anita’s direction. The room remained quiet for an agonizingly long time as Anita sat there waiting for him to say something else, anything else. Observation was failing her as his body language failed to give insight into what was going on inside of his mind. The silence soon became so overwhelmingly loud, as Anita could not help but fill it with presumptions of his silence. Maybe he simply did not have the guts to disown her so directly as her mother had just done. Maybe he was waiting for Anita to cave and say she would return home, for good. 

Whether it was a battle of will or a battle of cowardice that the two were engaged in, Anita didn’t want any part of it any longer. Standing up she began to gather her things, still unwilling to be the one to break the silence and preparing to accept that might mean never getting to say goodbye to her father - her papi. As she started walking towards the front door, however,  she felt a hand on her shoulder. “I will send money, mi culebra, but maybe it is for the best if you do go.” 

Anita nodded but felt frozen and unable to do anything else, fearful that any movement would unleash the tears building up in her eyes. As she felt his hand fall from her shoulder and heard his footsteps begin to walk away, she was able to reach out for the door handle and swing it open, ushering herself outside before her tears finally fell. 

[sleepdeprivedsimp234]

Omgosh Hia!!! Tis a great and grand day, so for once I’m not sulking for NJ angst, or anything about Jersey actually. I wish to see some of that good good Texas angst, you know, for the funnsies! (Gosh this sounds so modern lolz, normally I don’t modern slang. Anyways we won against Texas tonight so that’s the whole reason for this XD)

YOU HAVE COME TO THE RIGHT PERSON MY DEAR FRIEND :)

(Listen I love torturing Texas sm. He just has so many angsting opportunities.)

I’m gonna out these under the cut tho, just in case.

Texas has some nerve damage in his eye and side, which is where he happened to have been given two star scars, courtesy of Mexico’s A+ parenting.

He’s VERY insecure about the tiny bit of pudge that he has. He doesn’t care that it’s not that much or that he can’t help it. He hates it. And he’s tried starving it away a few times, but he never got that far. Someone just hold and kiss the poor thing 😭

He’s ambidextrous, but he doesn’t use his left hand. Why? Well. Growing up, being left handed or using his left hand was forbidden. So um. Yeah his left hand was broken multiple times throughout his life (or at least until it wasn’t forbidden anymore) and now he either can’t feel his hand or he can feel it way too much. And it on days where he can feel it, it hurts A LOT. But he still uses it. Oh! And his hand is really shaky and tbh, I’m not sure that it healed right.

I feel like he definitely has a bunch of branding on him from when Mexico owned him.

This mf can handle A LOT of pain, or at least he’ll make it look like it cuz yknow. He doesn’t want to be scene as weak.

A vast majority of the deaths hes had were absolutely BRUTAL. And painful in most cases too. Even if they were somewhat quick deaths. Safe to say that anyone present needed new pants after.

^at least three of them were from him getting his torso crushed, and he now has a LOT of nerve damage and chronic pain in his back and torso. Mostly his back. And there’s a bunch of scarring too.

^lets not forget about Confederate repeatedly slamming him into a wall (or tree I can’t remember) until he went unconscious.

Listen- for each of his lives no matter what parents he got, he’s gone to church. And honestly, Texas was probably part of the worship team (basically the band that sings the music for non denominational and Pentecostal churches) for a LOT of them. And he absolutely LOVED it. He loved being a part of those teams with other cool people and being able to sing and all that. BUT. A lot of times, the church’s and/or his parents’ views ruined it for him and he kinda dislikes it now. And he’s trans and bisexual too so- r.i.p.

He’s the type to start dissociating when he gets yelled at and go completely nonverbal. He hates it but. He hates being yelled at more.

I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again: Texas loves cuddles, and he loves hugs, but. He CANNOT. I repeat. CANNOT. Handle having his arms and/or legs restrained from moving, since he can’t defend himself and he has no idea who has intentions of hurting him or not.

He also CANNOT handle being approached on his blind side. He might panic. He will freeze up. He can’t see whoever approached him, and he doesn’t know who they are or what their intentions are.

^and because I must, PA is an asshole and finds joy in scaring other states, mainly the bigger "tougher" states like Texas, so sometimes he’ll just sneak up on Texas on his blindside and yell "boo!" or smth. They usually end of fighting after since Texas is the type to resort to "fight" in the event that someone scares him. So um. Yeah.

[misery-has-no-company-now]

I'm writing a fic and all I can say is that North Dakota has a very soft voice, I just know this. Like he's the type of state to speak barely above a whisper and it can be a little hard to hear him at times - especially in a noisy environment but he doesn't speak much anyway so it's usually not a problem. I feel like he's the shyer twin (since there's less opportunity for him to socialise much anyway due to his population) and typically follows South Dakota around everywhere.

If you look at it, except maybe the video in which he tells Alaska about his Fargo Frost Festival (and even in that I'm not entirely sure that South Dakota wasn't there), North Dakota never - or at least rarely - appears unless South Dakota is there too at some point of time. SD can be called to the table with either the one for the Dakotas or the one for Montana, but ND only comes with the first one. I think North Dakota sort of prefers to just stay there in the shadow (kind of like Alaska tbh) whenever he does go out and just let his brother do all the talking.

This could be something that is now a preference, but I'd like to think that it stems from that when they were younger, South Dakota always answered any questions directed towards the both of them, and generally spoke on his behalf as well since he was more excited to speak and less nervous than North Dakota was; so that habit of SD being the one to talk stuck and continues even till now. [The reason I hc this is because it's sort of like what happened with me and my twin too - as whenever someone asked us something he'd always reply faster and louder so eventually I just left the talking to him, instead simply standing there silently and I can see this happening with the Dakotas just that it's more of ND being too nervous to speak first rather than not getting the chance to at all.]

Also coming back to what I was saying about Norda having a soft voice : firstly he's quiet by nature. Also his ears are sensitive, so loud noises hurt him a lot quite often. This can mean that he doesn't feel like speaking louder since the sound of that pains him. He's even known as one of those few states least likely to yell at another [despite how much SD might aggravate him] since being loud hurts his throat too and shouting would definitely strain his frequently unused voice cords to the extent that he gets a sore voice [honestly, at this point I should just put everything about me as a trait of North Dakota lmao].

For the record, does anyone else here think he looks incredibly cute? Like I know it's the same person obviously but there's just something about how North Dakota looks and acts specifically that makes my heart melt at how adorable he is, with the only other states I get this from being Alaska, Indiana, New Mexico, and (ik this is random for me) Vermont. So...yeah.

[ajoytobeheld]

Ellen: it's been an awfully big adventure

December 7th, 2012

I don’t know how to start this, other then diving right in so….I’ll dive.

It is with a sad face I have to report that I am leaving Los Campesinos!. The show on the 15th of December in London will be my last, and I shall spend it struggling not to cry. Please don’t point out my tears if you come along. Simply pretend it is eye sweat.

Over the last seven years I have been blessed, not by God, because he doesn’t exist, but with opportunities and a life I will not fully appreciate until I am about forty-five. I will look back at old photos of the band, with our smooth skin and questionable hair, and go “fuck me. That was mental.”

The past and present members of Los Campesinos! have been my family for the last seven years and seen me at my lowest, my highest, my most angry, sad, happy, broken, fixed, grown up and immature. They have seen me fail, succeed, let myself and them down, learn the hard way, but they have also seen me grow. And they have always had my back, and I hope, I sincerely hope, I have done my best to have theirs.

There is not a terribly exciting reason for me leaving, (so please start some exciting rumours), I am just going to try something new. Fulfil my ambitions of becoming a failed writer and developing a opium habit. It’s all going to be very retro. I leave with the upmost love and support from the band, but I have requested my replacement not be too cool.

I would say I am sad to go, but that is too simple a word for the variety of emotions I have swimming around my head right now. I am sad, but mostly I am drowning in warm and happy flashbacks, vinaigrette images of us all laughing in the van on long drives across America. Joe Puleo, tour manager, at the front telling a story, Jason playing quizmaster and hosting a game of “Guess the Song,” from an app he has downloaded, and we all scream out responses. Rob taking photos of the scenery on his lomo, Neil watching gangster epics on his laptop, and maybe later on this long long drive Paul and Tom will play Tiger Woods Golf whilst I work out how long I can hold my bladder for before requesting we stop. I was the most frequenter pee needer on long drives. I am not ashamed of this. I owned it.

I felt warm and safe on those drives, listening to everyone tell stories, share experiences, make each other laugh. I am lucky to have shared a hotel room with so many exceptional ladies over the years, Aleks, Harriet and especially Kim, who shared my fear of the cold, love of porridge and put up with my ability to make a mess in any room in under 5 seconds. Starting and ending the day together, we did some good chatting.

I have seen a lot of this world, and I didn’t have to go on a gap year to do it. I have travelled across the breadth and depth of the US and the UK and I have seen a lot of different faces, and sampled a lot of backstage humus.I have seen a lot of graffitied backstage cocks.

I have met and worked with countless wonderful, interesting and horrifically talented people inside the industry, inside the venues, inside the recording studie and inside our practice space. (I won’t gush too much about how talented the people in the band are, you might get diabetes from my sincerity, but it has been a pleasure and a privilege to play the music that Tom writes.)

Also fans. Fans are awesome. You made it possible for us record an album in Seattle. To play a show outside of Wales. To play in a baseball stadium in Japan. A haunted restaurant in Santa Cruz. a handful of US universities and see Mexico! I saw Mexico! You girls and guys are truly humbling, and I hope I never took you for granted too much. I probably did. Thank you for knowing the words, for bringing cakes, and books, and t-shirts, and comics, and buying us drinks and for waiting and driving miles and cheering and clapping. For reading or watching or listening to anything we have ever done. Thanks. You kept us going and will continue to be the life blood of the Los Campesinos! family.

I was trawling through old photos trying to find the best one to represent a start and an ending, but I got lost in old memories and the process of ageing.

(God we looked young, look at our skin! Look at our clothes! Cardigans and ripped up Distillers t shirts, oh I still have that.)

I have eons of photos of the band at the start, at rehearsals, house parties, with experimental hair, (mine black, Gareth long and wispy, Neil’s fringe nearly covering his eyes and Tom always wearing his hat) and at our first shows. I remember when we first started, our summer of label romance where everyone wanted to take us out for a pub meal, and all we ever did was go out in Cardiff drinking and dancing. We said we would change our last names to Campesinos! if we ever played in the states, but we tempted fate, and we never changed out names but we did get to go to America a lot.

I sometimes wonder what alternative universe me would be doing if she didn’t go to that first rehearsal in Ollie’s bedroom. I think she is picking her nose right now in a bath of baked beans, bored and crazy because she spent all day in an office sitting next to a woman who told her about the time she slept with a navy seal. No one cares Brenda.

So 500 plus gigs, millions of air miles, gallons of backstage whisky and wine, a tonne of sweaty cheese and pita bread, a litre of tears shed on stage, hundreds of “don’t fuck up,” panics, hundreds of fuck ups, hundreds of “this is blowing my mind” moments whilst starring into a sea of unfamiliar and impassioned faces, break ups and ill advised hook ups later (don’t date musicians, like ever, we’re all mental,) I realise I have seen all the travel lodges, service stations, and states of America (apart from Alaska) and I have tasted more Marks and Spencer’s meals then I thought possible. I’ve been with some of the finest people I know doing a very unnatural thing, which is both the best and the worst experience and often at the same time, but never the same any given year. And we have done it fucking well. The best we can.

God I’m being dramatic, but I can’t help it, I was a middle child.

So some more self-indulgence.

I want to thank some people for being ace. John Goodmanson – a brilliant producer and a lesson in style and grace under pressure. Joe Puleo – the best tour manager, you never feel anything but safe in his company. Kelly Pickard – inspiration, mentor, wisest woman. Paul Rattcliff- The loyalist soundman whom gives so much. Kev and Alun and Mark Bowen, Wichita, Ben and Vicky, Gareth Dobson, anyone we have toured with or supported or who I have met along the way, everyone I forgot. I haven’t forgot, I am thinking about you.

My mum, because she told me I could be anything and do anything except get my tongue pierced. And I did that anyway, and she still wasn’t mad at me.

And the band.. Kim, Jason, Gareth, Tom, Neil and Rob who I will miss sharing experiences with that no one will understand, I love you guys. Like, loads. From our first Sweet Dreams, until our last, thanks.

Okay, too long, too emo. Bye bye.

Ellen x

[purposefully-lost]

a little sample of the christine fic,,

One thing you should know right upfront: Leigh left town the summer after we wrecked Christine. That was a few months before I wrote everything down the first time, but it wasn't something I'd wanted to think too much about back then. While the two of us had finally been catching up on college applications and trading kisses in-between essays, her folks had been on the look-out for somewhere else to go, and they'd settled on Taos, New Mexico. Her dad could get a good job there, she wasn't too far from some good opportunities herself, and I think all of them just wanted far, far away from Libertyville. Too much bad energy. Too many dead kids for one school semester.

Leigh decided to follow her folks, and she'd told me this on the same day that she'd said it might be best if we just broke things off. She loved me, she said, but sometimes it was hard to look at me. I knew what she meant.

"You sure we couldn't just.. manage?" I asked her, on that last day that we really spent together. It wasn't the last time I saw her, but it was the last time that we'd been alone. We were sitting in the front seat of my duster on an early June morning, a fast food breakfast split between us. Leigh had had one of her hands in my hair, idly scratching at the back of my head. She didn't stop when I spoke, but she frowned softly and shook her head.

"I don't think so. It'd be.. a lot of work, Dennis. Unless you move down with me, and that'd be stupid, right now." She pulled her hand away, sitting back against the seat. "You just got accepted to Drew."

"I don't mind work," I told her, and I'd meant it, even though I knew it was a lost cause. Leigh and I had been drifting since January. You'd think that going to hell and back together would build a solid foundation, but really, it just shook us up. There were times that things were perfect and I was so sure that I was going to marry that girl, and there were times when I tried to kiss her skin and all I tasted was rot. That putrid smell that emanated out from the Fury's dashboard, like Roland LeBay had come back out of my nightmares and hovered just behind me at the edge of my bed. I could see it her eyes, sometimes, that she felt it, too.

"I know you don't," she said, smiling softly for me. Oh, Leigh. I still haven't seen a smile on a woman that held a candle to hers. We'd spent a long, dreary winter together, but every time she smiled, it was like the sun splitting through the clouds. "And that's why we have to. You'd kill yourself trying to make it all work out."

She hadn't known yet how right she was.

A silence lapsed between us, me trying to get a handle on the ache in my chest, her probably doing the same. And then Leigh looked up and out beyond the windshield, taking in a slow breath that made the weight of the world settle on her shoulders. "We should go soon. Before it gets too hot out."

I nodded. We had plans to spend the whole day together, a last good date to send us off, but there was something else we had to do, too. I had the feeling that if we didn't do it first, it'd hang over us like a bad omen. Better to get it out of the way. I gathered up our trash into the paper bag we'd gotten our take-out in, and then I started us down towards the Libertyville Heights Cemetary.

-

I'll admit, I never visit Arnie as much as I should. Especially back then, when a world without him was still brand new and the flowers should've stayed fresh on the Cunninghams' graves, I avoided the place. The problem was that Libertyville didn't have too large of a population, and so it didn't have too many cemeteries to choose from, and by chance or pure bad luck or a God that wanted to spite me, the Cunninghams and Roland LeBay had both been buried in Libertyville Heights. In fact, so had all of the LeBays that'd died within the township. Leigh and I had left flowers for the poor Veronica and little Rita, once. You had to walk past LeBay to reach Arnie. Every single time I did, it made my stomach flip.

Leigh carried the roses in her right hand and held onto my arm with her left. Her grip tightened on me as me as we hurried past the LeBay plot, but as always, our steps slowed when we took the path that branched off towards the Cunninghams. I'm still not entirely sure who paid for the headstones that marked their graves, but they hadn't cut any corners. Regina and Michael got a joint stone with carved detailing in the corners and an individual epitaph for each of them that named them as beloved mother and father, daughter and son, friend to all who knew them, etcetera, etcetera, throw in a bible verse for good measure. Arnie got his own grave with matching detailing, but he had a shorter epitaph. Beloved son.

It always made me frown when I saw it. They could've at least written friend there, too. Maybe Arnie had never had many friends, and maybe it was sort of selfish, but I'd been his friend for eighteen long years. Strangers who saw his resting place should know that he'd had a friend. I wanted my claim on the part I'd played in his life.

We stopped a few feet from his headstone. We always did. Leigh squeezed my arm gently and gave me a discerning look. "Should we.. go together?" She asked quietly. "Or.."

It was the same question every time. When we'd fallen for each other, we'd betrayed him. It felt weird to approach his grave together, holding onto one another, but that was sort of on him, wasn't it? If he hadn't gone so far off the rails, we might've done things differently. I shrugged. "I don't think it makes a difference, Leigh. I really don't."

She nodded. Then she walked us forwards, until we were standing just before the place where his casket would be buried beneath us. Leigh finally let go of me to lay down the roses, and she took a moment to arrange them neatly, so they were all pretty in the green summer grass. She sniffled as she sat back and reached up to wipe at her face. "I feel bad that we didn't bring anything for his parents."

"I'm sure they'll forgive us," I said, shoving my hands in my pockets. I kept staring at Arnie's name, reading it over and over again. Arnold Cunningham. I'm not sure I'd ever actually called him by Arnold in his whole life. "They'd probably be happy just to see the little asshole get a visitor."

She turned to look at me, her brows furrowed. I frowned at her. "What?" I asked.

"Nothing," she said. She pushed herself up and brushed her jeans off before she looked at me again. "It's just the way you talk about him, sometimes. Like he's.. I don't know. You don't talk about him like a dead person."

"What does that mean?"

"Like just then. Kind of.. teasing him. Most people talk about the dead with more respect." She wasn't hounding me on it, whatever it sounds like. She was just confused. I could see it in her eyes. I shrugged, uncomfortable.

"He's my best friend, Leigh. He knows what I meant."

There was a discomfort in her face, too. She'd pointed it out to me before, me talking about Arnie in the present tense. I couldn't help it. I knew he was gone, but did that mean he stopped being my best friend? I wasn't sure. It was hard to throw away something that had been true for so long. I was going to move on and go to college and live my life without him, but that was the one thing I was reluctant to leave behind me. Leigh, for what it's worth, didn't press the issue. She just stepped back into place next to me, and after a few seconds, she took my arm again. Pressing her cheek against my shoulder, we watched Arnie's grave for a long, quiet moment.

I thought about that dream I'd had in the hospital. The cracked lens in his glasses when he told me he thought things were going to be okay.

Finally, Leigh spoke. "Goodbye, Arnie," she said, her voice little more than a whisper. I thought she might explain that she wouldn't be visiting again, that she'd missed him or still loved him, but she didn't. She just left it at that.

We left soon after. It wasn't a bad day. We got ice cream, walked through the shops downtown, took a drive out past the city limits. Spent some time with our hands on one another. The last time I really held Leigh, I told her that I'd always love her, and I really meant that. She wasn't my first love, but she was one of my greatest, and I wouldn't have survived that year without her. Last I heard, she had a new man, and I hope he treats her well. We send each other postcards a few times a year.

[nickgerlich]

Ain't That American

That sucking sound you keep hearing is the growing list of companies trying to cozy up to a new President intent on upending the tables and apple carts of our life. Scarcely two weeks have passed, and the list of things changed dramatically one way or the other is expanding rapidly, for better or for worse.

Companies that have acquiesced include Meta, Google, and all the firms you have heard in the last two weeks killing their DEI programs. Meta nixed fact-checking, and Google happily renamed the Gulf of Mexico to America, and Denali to Mt. McKinley. What Google didn’t tell many people is that this will only show up Google Maps when viewed in the US. The rest of the world will continue to see the former names. I find that pretty funny.

And now Anheuser-Busch, the US division of global Belgian-owned beer conglomerate AB InBev, has thrown its hat in the ring. Why not, right? Everyone else is doing it.

Yesterday their CEO announced he wants mass-produced US beers to be reclassified as “American,” and not “domestic.” He argues that the latter does nothing to instill pride in the brand as well as consumption. He might have a problem getting all the other big beer brands on board, because AB’s products certainly are not all that are on retailer shelves or in bars. And then there is the thorny issue of what do we call craft beer? It is American too, right? Should it then be called “American Craft?”

What a mess.

Oh, and one more thing. Folks have not yet forgotten—nor forgiven—what happened in April 2023, when Bud Light partnered with transgender influencer Dylan Mulvaney. That one-off beer can bearing her likeness sent some beer drinkers into orbit, their sensibilities—and maybe masculinity—thrown into disarray because their brand was suddenly associated with a transgender. In some men’s minds, being seen drinking a Bud Light was tantamount to donning a dress and letting their feminine side show. Oh, the insecurities.

Since then, Bud Light has acted as if nothing ever happened, even though it has now slid from top beer in the US to number three, surpassed by Modelo and, most recently, Michelob Ultra. Bud Light has sponsored many pro and college football teams, as they had done so for years, but now with more intent. Anyone see the Bud Light 12-ounce cans and 16-ounce aluminum bottles for Texas Tech this last fall? Yup. The Red Raiders are sponsored by a beer associated with a transgender woman. Big gulp.

It should be pointed out that AB-InBev also owns Michelob Ultra, so it makes little difference in terms of corporate sales. Furthermore, this is strictly a US problem, because the rest of the world could not care less. Finally, I must explain the tricky part about Modelo, which is another brand owned by AB InBev. It’s just that for this acquisition to go down in 2013, AB InBev had to license the Modelo, Corona, and other brand names under the Grupo Modelo umbrella to US-based Constellation Brands. The result is that Constellation also brews Modelo in Mexico, and then sends it to the US, where they have guaranteed distribution free of AB’s power.

There’s another layer of irony, too, because those former Bud Light drinkers who switched to Modelo will have to pay the new tariff imposed by President Trump. Yeah. Irony can be delicious. It’s about this time that some might throw up the hands and say WTAF.

Back to the current topic now. I don’t care your political party affiliation or preferred candidate. As for me, I remain Independent, which makes me an equal opportunity critic. I can rip Biden apart as much as I can Trump. The only problem is that we have a two-party system in the States, and to vote for anyone other than the Big Two is kind of like throwing away your vote, even if you are making a personal statement. The result is that I, and many other Independents, wind up voting for the person we deem the lesser of two evils.

I just have to wonder how many of the recent acquiescences are really just sucking up to someone with whom they would love to curry favor. It’s not a whole lot different from sucking up to your boss. You may not realize it when you are doing it, but it sure smells like you know what you see someone else in the act.

And that’s the fragrance I am smelling right now.

Dr “American Craft Beer For The Win” Gerlich

Audio Blog

[evolvecolving]

The Art of Slow Travel for Digital Nomads

There is a popular image of the digital nomad lifestyle that gives us ambitions to visit a vast number of countries every year, but sustaining that kind of pace can be tiring and take the fun out of it.

Many people prefer to visit fewer countries and stay for longer, which we refer to as “slow travel.”

Slow travel affords many more opportunities and is a much more relaxed approach to location-independent living.  There are definite benefits to doing it this way. To better understand these, I have listed some of the advantages below. 

Cost of Living

One of the most expensive parts of being a digital nomad is the accommodation; the second most expensive thing tends to be the flights.

Staying in one place for longer means that you don’t have to spend money as frequently on flights and you can also find better accommodation deals. 

The longer you stay somewhere, the better the accommodation deals become. A six-month lease is markedly cheaper per month than a one-month rental, a two-week stay or a three-day stay.

Being able to stay for an extended period of time can make a real difference to affordability and it is clear, it is definitely financially worth doing if you can.

In addition to the length of stay bringing the costs down, if you are going to stay somewhere for a longer time, it is very plausible to look at a less central and more “local” residential area.

Joining local Facebook groups and asking about accommodation for the time you are looking for or contacting local estate agents will help you determine nice but not tourist centre locations. 

Remaining in one place can also get you thinking more like a local. You will find that you cook more meals instead of eating out, which will also save money. 

Exploring more on foot rather than by taxi and bus because you are not so concerned about time can also help to reduce costs and increase your overall fitness.

Digital Nomad Visas

Increasing numbers of countries are offering special visas aimed at digital nomads.

These will often allow a route to stay for longer in a country to people who might not otherwise qualify to stay due to their country of origin. 

Countries with temperate all-year-round climates, such as Bali, Malta, Mexico, and Portugal, increasingly offer digital nomad visas.

These visas vary in length and allow people to stay in a country for a certain period of time. 

The Malta digital nomad visa can be extended from the default of one year to a maximum of four.

The Bali visa is for a maximum of five years and has strict requirements for the amount of savings an applicant must deposit in an Indonesian bank.

Of course, European Union citizens can already choose to live in Malta or Portugal without having to navigate additional obstacles.

The digital nomad visas for these locations are more suited to people from further afield, or the UK, which is no longer in the EU following Brexit.

Community Integration

When you visit somewhere fleetingly, it can be hard to make lasting friendships. People are unlikely to want to invest too much in a connection with you because you will be gone soon and they may never see you again.

This often gives the impression that lasting friendships can’t be made while travelling.

But anyone who has spent significant time around other members of the digital nomad community will begin to make friends fairly easily.

The more you travel, the more fascinating stories you accumulate, and the more interesting you become to people who spend their lives in one place.

This, however, still leaves the problem that your new friends will typically be moving on in a few days. And the solution is slow travel. Even the most introverted people can make friends when they are in one place for a long enough time, and the friends you do make you spend enough time with you building a lasting connection.

You also meet others who enjoy slow travel so you have the option to continue to the next place with your new friends.

If you are staying longer-term at a coliving like Evolve, it is even easier. The minimum stay of a month allows for deeper integration, and lifelong friendships are forged as a result. 

It is easy to find the activities you enjoy doing and if there is a social aspect to them, you will begin to make friends. 

Being able to spend quality time with people is what builds connection, and longer stays are ideal for this. 

Recharge and Reinvigorate

Having a “base” for a while can allow for some relaxation and some downtime. It is one of the reasons that so many nomads return to places like Malta for multiple months over the summer.

Knowing a place and catching up with people you have met before can be a great feeling.

Embracing slow travel can definitely banish that frenetic feeling of always being on the go.

Adapting to a little bit of routine for a few months can allow for personal growth and give you the chance to let your ideas percolate and come to fruition. Sometimes, slowing down is exactly what we need.

It helps when a location like Evolve Coliving has a pool, gym, jacuzzi, coworking, huge open plan double shared kitchen and lounge and more, as it created an on-site ecosystem where it is easy to relax, play, and have fun but also focus and get s**t done!

The world is fast-paced. Our own lives don’t need to be. Act with intention and choose the kind of lifestyle that is right for you.

If you left an office job to go remote because it wasn’t right for you, don’t keep doing things that aren’t right for you. 

Not everyone is suited to fast travel, and if you want to slow it down, you don’t need anyone’s permission to do so.

Nobody is going to take away your “digital nomad” card and force you back to the office because you didn’t visit “enough” places in a year. 

Interesting Tax Possibilities

Please note that nothing in this article constitutes financial advice. 

Being a digital nomad, you aren’t necessarily going to be taxed in your country of origin.

You can generally avoid having to pay tax in the UK on your remote earnings if you have no property there and have spent less than half the year there.

If you are spending a few months of the year in several different countries, you may not qualify to pay tax in any of them, leading to the possibility that you are not paying tax anywhere.

It is always important to do your research to avoid unpleasant surprises. 

Alternatively, you may move to a country that has a treaty with your home country and choose to pay tax there.

This would make sense if your home country has a higher rate of tax than your destination.

This is, of course, entirely at your own risk, as governments everywhere are always fond of collecting taxes and may feel that you owe them tax, even if you haven’t lived there for years.

Yes, USA, I am looking at you. The US is notorious for trying to get its citizens to pay taxes even when they don’t live there. 

Original Source: https://evolvecoliving.io/blog/slow-travel-digital-nomads/