#the bus has driven off with me in it

[bebsi-cola]

i don't know why bus drivers are obsessed with giving you 3 whole seconds to get the fuck off the bus before they close the door and drive off with you. like. if i'm stood up when it stops i will go flying. i have to dodge all the able bodied people standing around like lemmings and staring, if they themselves are not actively trying to push past me to get off. and a good half of the time the driver hasn't even pulled up to the pavement so it's a massive fuck-off step just to get out like. calm down. let me leave please.

[maidservant-hecubus]

My father is an Ashkenazi Jew. His parents were first generation Americans. Their parents escaped the pogroms in Russia and Ukraine and came to find their American dream. They fought in wars and opened businesses and assimilated and my generation barely has a few words of Yiddish between us. My mother is as much of a WASP as it gets. American Revolutionaries and Signers and some household name civil war feature players. Not old money, but old America and undoubtedly white. I'm patrilineal. Not a Jew to a lot of Jews. Not a Jew to a lot of my Jewish family. Even though i was raised Jewish. Even though I look like my father. Even though i got enough of something in my DNA to get asked "What are you?" more often than not. More often than I'm just accepted at face value as "white". When i was little we lived in an Irish Catholic neighborhood. Like the 5-10 kids in every family sort of Irish catholic neighborhood. The kids calling me a christ killer and refusing to play with me because they heard it from their parents sort of irish catholic neighborhood. For some reason my parents tried to send me to the catholic school down the street. I lasted less than a week because i didn't understand their rituals and their language and they found out my father was a Jew and they couldn't have a christ killer in their midst. I was just sad i didn't get to wear the cute plaid skirt anymore. So i went to the public school and my well meaning shiksa mother who never converted but learned the Chanukah prayers and helped cook Seder dinners came to the school to teach the class about Chanukah. She taught them songs and all the kids got dreidels and had so much fun spinning the top for chocolate coins. It was nice to feel normal. A few weeks later a boy in a higher grade attacked me on the way to the bus and smashed my art project (we had made pig noses from solo cups to celebrate reading charlotte's web) into my face and called me a filthy jew. I didn't understand, i was more upset to lose the project i was so proud of. Other things happened. Things I wont talk about because putting them in context would doxx me. But a million reminders that i wasn't one of them. I wasn't welcome because i was Jewish. My parents divorced. My mother left. Far away so I'd only see her a handful of times growing up. And I went to live with my Dad in a city that seemed like it was overflowing with Jews. Everyone knew my holidays! In public school the teachers looked like my family and had familiar sounding names. We had the high holy days off just like christmas or easter. We sang Chanukah songs in the winter recital and nobody's mom had to come teach them to the class. Finally I belonged! My friends and cousins started planning for their b mitzvah celebrations and i asked for my own. I asked to go to hebrew school so i could be more like the people i belonged with and celebrate the things i loved about myself and them. "But you're not jewish." My father would say. This was news to me. The christ killer. The filthy jew. But a 10 year old has little power over their lives. So i didn't go. I didn't have a bat mitzva while my cousins had theirs. It was okay because i still belonged more than i ever had. But i was still jewish enough to keep the holidays and pray and fast and get sent with a box of matzo to my WASP grandmothers for easter, and have matzo packed in my lunch to eat in AP algebra in 7th grade and get asked if I'm a "Yid" by the teacher. And still to this day not know if it was endearment or insult but by then I knew even in this magical city being a Jew wasn't always safe. in highschool I tried to take hebrew lessons with a friend in a similar situation as me. She was also hungry to reconnect. I don't remember why the classes or the friendship fell through, but they did. My next "friend", a goy raised catholic from another neighborhood, liked to accuse me of being money driven when i picked up a penny on the sidewalk or tried to ask who was going to pay for the zine's she wanted to publish.

 "What are you?" I'd get asked a lot on the street by curious strangers, "Where are you from?" "Are you Italian?" Always Italian. I never really understood that, but its become code in my head for "You look like you're white but something about you is very not white and I just can't place it, so Italian seems safe and polite." I'm not here to unpack the Italian part of all that. I don't even know what I'm unpacking for myself by writing this except I've been sick for days and I'm so tired and this is all that my foggy brain can wrap itself around. Later I'm an adult and on my own and getting bloodwork done. The Nurse is a black woman and so sweet to me. She can tell I'm nervous about the needles because I've already stumbled through my apologies for my herd to find veins. So she distracts me with small talk. Where do i live? I tell her. She looks worried for me. Tells me that it used to be a nice neighborhood before white people took it over and she warns me like she's my own mother to be careful because they aren't safe. I doublecheck the skin she's putting a needle into. Whatever she sees isn't white. I love her for it. For a moment I belong there with her. She doesn't ask what I am or where i'm from, but she knows what i'm not. I'm the only one keeping the holidays with my family. We celebrate Passover because I go home to my fathers and cook the dinner and print out the Haggadah and lead the Seder to the tune of my drunk catholic stepmother eating my food and telling me i'll never be a jew. She's more of a jew than I'll ever be because she grew up in a jewish neighborhood and her friends were all jews and she married a jew and i was just playing pretend. I stopped going home for holidays and they stopped observing anything except Christmas. I marry a goy. "Is he a jew?" is the first thing my father asks and he's disappointed when i say no. He's abusive, i run. I end up living in the attic of this older old money WASP couple who need a live in house sitter. They're pillars of their church and they know someone from the WASP side of my family very well and its a funny coincidence and they think i belong there. I know from their divest from Israel bumper stickers that i don't. Then they find out I consider myself Jewish and i see the light in their eyes die and its replaced by something hard and disappointed. Now, while writing this, i can laugh about being the jew in someone's attic. But then, it was only a few months after that they started coming up with excuses for why I needed to move out. I did, their excuses never manifested into reality. I got married again. A jew this time! a Jewish medical professional liek grandma always wanted. She's a convert and her ex was a rabbinical student. I think maybe i'm home finally. She has to understand. I'm not Jewish enough for her. We don't keep holidays at home because i'm not a jew. I cry every year when pesach comes and goes and i haven't recited the plagues or eaten matzo piled high with horseradish. She insists on putting up a christmas tree. She turns abusive. I run.

I'm alone now and no longer in that magic jewish city. I'm far away and surrounded by mega churches and cows and the bagels suck and people quote the bible at me like some call and response that i don't have the cheat code for and I don't belong here at all but i'm finally finally free to light my menorah and recite the plagues and study torah with the group i found here on tumblr who love and accept me even though i'm patrilineal. Oct. 7th happened a few weeks after I moved here. I worry about my family back home and i think no one will look for Jews here among the cows and mega churches, so I can be a safe place for them to run if things get bad again. But i still don't fit in here. I don't look right. The last name I have now is common here and too white for whatever people see when they look in my face. I get interrogated about it a lot. But i learned quickly how to smile and say "have a blessed day". I hide my menorah when maintenance comes to work on my apartment. I flew home last month. Just for a visit. I've never been away from home this far or this long. And I'm the type that covers nerves and anxiety with chattiness, so at the airport i made a for-now-friend while we both waited for the plane to board. She's Puerto Rican. We talk about our lives. Our families. Her twin sister and i go by the same nickname and so we're family now. We talk about food. So much food and how much we love cooking and how important food was at home. "Are you Italian?" she asks as we're stepping through the hatch into the plane. Why always Italian? I wonder for the millionth time in my life. And I freeze up for a moment between fighting my carry-on over the gap and terror that I'm about to see the light go out behind her eyes and i'll lose this for-now friend. "No," i laugh but its not a real laugh and i see the concern in her face as we squeeze through the aisle because she can hear the apprehension in my voice, "I'm Jewish." And something strange happened because her face lit up and she smiled and said "No way?! You guys have GREAT food!"

[infamous-if]

✮ CH. 2 PART I ✮ 92k (+86k) -> 178k ✮

PLAY CHAPTER 2: PART I

It's here! First, sorry for the long wait. Chapter 2 has proven to be a behemoth, and I'd gotten sick this past week, my computer broke, my documents went kaput and I had to do some Frankensteining for the last few pages of this part. I'm not too worried, as Part II update can help smooth out all the kinks. I will definitely be looking for beta testers once chapter 2 is complete ha

Anywho! Enough about my problems. This demo update adds 86k words (86, 818 to be exact) and is the first part of a two part chapter. Which means the narrative in this chapter is not complete, but I kind of closed it off at a pretty satisfying place. As with every Infamous chapter, this is very character driven. So have fun!

What to expect in Chapter Two PART I:

get on the bus & deal with the consequences of your actions lol

arrive to your first tour stop and do your first gig...which might get messy (both literally and figuratively)

hang with a familiar father and daughter duo

have some heart to hearts/ some cheeky little POV passages

meet more BOTB crew and learn exactly what's in store for you this season

get roped in some ValenReign mess !

Maintenance:

this chapter has a lot of flavor text, or at least, more than the demo did, so if there are any errors or if there are lines that don't correspond with your choices, please let me know so i can fix that!

you will no longer be forced to write your own lyrics and the update will offer you pre-written lyrics by yours truly. im not t swift so i would advise you not to expect professional level songwriting, but they work well enough lolol

lyrics page is up as well as stats, but i don't really like the system i used to balance it, mostly because new...stat things will be added as the story goes on, so that's still getting reworked. still, good enough for now, as there are some personality stat checks!

Prologue and Chapter 1 errors/typos/grammatical bits fixed. (Wouldn't be surprised if I missed some though...) + variables updated.

Scenes not showing up fixed. hopefully, that huge error in which it throws you back to the fight after returning to the house is fixed (It was a bit wonky for me, hopefully it works for everyone else)

Stat and relationship pages updated ( + lyric page to look back at all your lyrics).

Can choose to be asexual and any sexual scenes will be skipped or replaced with romantic scenes. Flavor text in which MC displays any sort of sexual desire will be skipped. (This option comes up during Dakota's party scene. If not, it will show up when it presents itself again.) (Nothing sexual has come up yet, but if there are any scenes or even lines/ internal thoughts that should be skipped or changed for Asexual MCs, please let me know!)

If there are errors or anything, im always open. I've play tested but you girl is always prone to errors. As always, thank you for your love and enthusiasm! It makes me really happy and motivates me to keep writing ! <3

(Also, if you're thinking "omg amy how did you go from 65k to 86k?!" i don't want to talk about it /j)

See you on tour!

[woso-dreamzzz]

Firsts IV

Hardersson x Preteen!Reader

Part of The Big Adventures Universe

Summary: Your first period

You've just come home from school when you ask about it.

It was one of the rare days you went in, an English test that you couldn't miss but Magda knew you would ace. You'd only been in for half a day and one of your friend's mothers had driven you back instead of making you take the bus.

Magda's typing away at her laptop when you come in, toeing off your shoes and moving your portable phone charger from your school bag into the training bag waiting by the door.

You dip into the kitchen to grab a snack.

"Morsa?" You call.

"Hmm, yeah?" Magda doesn't take her eye off her screen.

"Where are the sanitary pads?"

"Er..." Magda has to think for a moment. She hasn't used one in a while. "Cabinet in the downstairs bathroom, I think? Why?"

You give her an odd look as you pass on your way there. "I started my period at school today."

"Oh, okay." She nods and goes back to typing.

It's only when you disappear into the bathroom, that her brain catches up with what you've said.

"What do you mean you've started your period?! Princesse? Princesse!"

You return a few minutes later. "I started my period."

"You're twelve!"

You give her another odd look, little crinkle between your brows. "I know, Morsa. I'm old enough to have one now."

Magda looks around wildly, looking for any support she can get but Pernille's still at work and it's just her with you.

"Okay," She says, more to herself than anyone else," Okay. Right, your period." Her throat bobs. "Alright, so...Periods are when-"

"Morsa, are you trying to give me the talk?"

"Listen," Magda says," I know this is going to be awkward but stay with me here. We're going to work through this together. Periods are when-"

"Morsa...I've already been given the talk."

Magda's world comes crashing down. "What do you mean you've already been given the talk?!"

"We went over it in biology," You say with a shrug," And I've already taken some painkillers." You frown. "Am I still okay to go to practice tonight?"

Magda's not keeping up at all as her mouth hangs open and she tries to equate your age with the fact that you've started your period. It didn't make sense at all.

You still slept with your plushies. You couldn't be nearly old enough to start your period, let alone rummaging around the period products without a care in the world. Magda doesn't think she's overreacting but you're being strangely calm about this all, your only worry being about if you would still be able to go to training.

"Okay," Magda says even though none of this is even remotely okay," So...You started your period at school?"

"Yeah but some of my friends had pads that I can use so it's not a big deal."

You're being so nonchalant about this that Magda is really worrying she's ended up in some alternate universe where she's being outrageously hysterical about this whole thing.

"And you've already taken some painkillers?"

"Yes."

"And you're wondering if you're allowed to go to practice today?"

"Morsa? Are you okay? You've been acting a little weird..."

"I'm not acting weird!" Magda's voice goes embarrassingly high pitched. "This is all completely fine! Better than fine! Amazing!"

The look you're giving her is clearly one of worry and you cautiously reach the back of your hand up to measure her temperature.

"What's going on?" Pernille comes in just as you place your hand on Magda's forehead.

"Morsa's acting weird," You declare," And she's not answering my questions."

"I'll answer your questions," Pernille says as she hangs up her coat and unlaces her shoes," What do you want to know?"

"Can I still go to practice even though I've started my period?"

"You've started your period? Well done, princesse. If you still want to go to practice then go. Just make sure to snack a little bit during breaks and keep drinking. Have you taken painkillers?"

You nod.

"Take some with you, just in case. Now, what's wrong with your Morsa?"

You shrug. "I don't know. She's been acting weird ever since I got back."

"Magda? Is something wrong?"

Mutely, Magda shakes her head. Pernille's being calm too. Maybe she is blowing this out of proportion.

"Just...Work stuff is a little stressful," She lies, not wanting to admit that the idea of you having started your period is stressing her out.

Thankfully, both you and Pernille seem to take that as fact.

"Well," Pernille says, turning back to you," I'll log it in my calendar and we'll start tracking them. The first few are going to be a little bit irregular so we'll see how it goes. Once they're more consistent, we'll talk about moving you onto tampons, if you want. They're a bit easier to play with."

Magda stays rooted to the sofa. She's going to have to come to terms with you starting your periods but the idea of you using tampons is a bit too big for her to cope with at the moment.

[lovelyyandereaddictionpoint]

Yandere Manager

Managers can teeter on the edge of being the most helpful and supportive authorities in your life or the worst. More often leaning toward the latter, it isn’t bizarre to feel helpless when they put a strain on your paycheck or your general health during and outside the work day. It’s infuriating and downright despairful when they use the power of management to make you miserable. But you can always file a report to HR or the branch head. Sometimes it’ll work but not always. More likely than not there’s more support for them further down the line which makes it even harder to contest. 

“(Y/n) didn’t I tell you to smile when you’re at the front? S-M-I-L-E!”

But there’s something just as alarming about the manager who doesn’t have that. No favor from directors, open to the reprimands of human resources, and even a criminal record to boot. There’s something that compels you to listen when you look for an ounce of sympathy in those amber eyes to find a tempest of unhinged madness. You can only begin to visualize in a fever-driven nightmare. 

That’s your manager. 

The lovely, awful, and disastrous manager that fills you with helplessness like no other. 

Yandere Manager is just so naggy. Not only to you but your coworkers as well because there’s always something to comment on. Even when it’s not insulting or condescending it just rubs everyone the wrong way. 

“The way the uniform looks on you makes it look like we dragged you off the street.”

“....”

“....You’re the one who gave her a uniform that isn’t her size.”

“Yeah, but she’s the one who looks homeless. (Y/n) how about you mind your business and actually do your job. Thanks!” 

Yandere Manager is especially unpredictable in his support of you. Sometimes joining unruly customers when they blame you for something you messed up on. While also defending you over something small that didn’t require anyone’s input let alone his. Situations with entitled customers is a coin toss with him.

“Miss I’ll just remake the drink for you.”

“No no, you don’t have to I just want to know what was used instead of oat milk.”

“Oh okay then it's…Mr. Manager?”

“....YOU!?”

“Me?”

“Oh no.”

“NEVER WALK INTO MY ESTABLISHMENT AGAIN!”

“What why? I didn’t–”

“IF YOU REFUSE TO LEAVE I’LL HAVE TO REMOVE YOU BY FORCE.”

“Ahhh!”

“Wait! You don’t need the crossbow! Put it down!”

“DON’T EVER SPEAK TO MY EMPLOYEE EVER AGAIN!”

You can hardly pinpoint a pattern to his discord even after his honest confession when you catch him rifling through your things. But he won’t explain why he steals your lunch or makes fun of you in front of your coworkers. Or why he slashes your tires and breaks the windows of your home. It gets so bad you’re starting to think he uses this supposed obsession as an excuse for his behavior.

“Will you please explain why you broke into my car…for the fourth time?”

“Hmmm no.”

“...fine don’t. Now get out.”

“No I don’t think I will.”

“I have pepper spray and a tasor.”

“I can handle pepper spray.”

~Kzzt~

“Okay fine, you win this time.”

But despite your suspicions, he’s very much obsessed. Convinced he’s owed your affections he doesn’t mind breaking into your home, invading your personal space, and making light fun-as lovers do. No, his more sporadic actions happen to be something like knee-jerk reactions of his love for you. Similar to cuteness aggression. Because in his mind he’d prefer to break another window of yours than murder the family next door for looking at you too long. 

“This will have to do for now. I mean they can’t pin me for their carelessness when driving into a ditch, right?”

Usually, he doesn’t mind just doing whatever he feels like but since you’ve caught and called the police on him he’s on a tight leash. Not because he’s at all afraid of the police. Not at all. It’s because then he’ll be breaking the hold he has on you. Let me explain.

The minute he did the slightest thing out of line you called the higher-ups who threatened him and assured you he’d be fired. Great. But when he cornered you in your own home with the possibility that this wouldn’t stop when he was fired you had to pause.

“Sure you might get rid of me at work but then you’ll never know where I am. Instead of staying at work with you, I might just be in your room or at your friend’s house, or in your car!”

“T-t-then I’ll call the police on you!”

“After I’ve already left? Well sure they can serve an order and arrest me if I’m too close but when I break out–and trust me I will–you’ll have no idea when or where I’ll be coming from. I’ll be a constant boogeyman over your life if you kick me out now.”

“.....”

“So don’t get me fired, kay?”

Yandere Manager who is only given a warning by his employers and police before you stop attempting to get others involved. As much as you hate to admit it, he’s completely right. For all the times you find him breaking in, already broken in, or stealing something of yours he’s never lied to you. The same can’t be said for others but even when he’s doing something wrong he’ll always be honest with you. 

“Mister Manager? Did you do something to my lunch?”

“No! How dare you accuse me of such a deplorable thing! I should write you up.”

“....(Y/n)?”

“Clyde.”

“What?”

“Did you mess with his food?”

“Yes.”

“Dude are you serious?!” 

Life with Yandere Manager isn’t going to be easy at first but when has it ever been for an employee like yourself? It’s best that you get used to your Manager’s obsession, heck it might help make your grueling shift a little bit better.

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

You Make Me Wanna 5

Warnings: dark elements, noncon, age gap, best friend’s dad trope other dark elements. Proceed with caution.

Note: Please let me know what you think as it helps me a lot with ideas and I love interacting with you all.

Part of The Club AU

Three times. Walter, Mr. Marshall, Detective, whoever he is that day, has driven by your house three times. Three times that you’ve noticed. 

The first time you recognised his car, you were taking out the trash. The second time, you were making sure your siblings got on the bus for school. And the third time, you’re coming out the front door, in uniform as you mentally steel yourself for another day at the grocery store. 

You try not to be too obvious as you look for him. You set out on your usual route, a peek here and there over your shoulder, a strategic glance down the street as you turn to cross. Maybe he can stop you for jaywalking. A perfect excuse for him to swing around his weight. 

You take out your phone as you come in sight of the plaza with the grocery store at its centre. Still not word from Faye. You really don’t expect her to be the first to reach out. You’re still sore yourself. It isn’t just that she ditched you, again, it’s that she was so quick to believe you sold her out. She knows the way her father is and yet just like him, she assumes you’re in the wrong. 

As you approach the front doors of the store, you glance back at the lot. It’s sparse with vehicles, still early enough that stockers work at the shelves and the deli still fills its baskets with slices and salads. You clock in and tie on your apron, taking your vigil behind a till. Debbie leaves you as the sole cashier as she goes to do her counts. 

You stare across the store, vision blurring, as the ceiling speakers drone out 80s pop. Your eyes nearly cross at the orbs of colours that form around you; the medley of produce, the smear of labels, and the looming shade of endless aisles. As you detach yourself from the monotony, you’re filled with a cloud of futile acceptance. Every day for the rest of your life. 

Last year, you still had hope. You remember you told Faye you could save up and join her at college. That’s definitely not going to happen. You barely saved a nickel. Just like high school, your cheques were spent picking up after your mom’s job hopping. Your siblings can’t go without food or clothes or everything you didn’t have. Even when you get a few staples free from the clearance cart, you’re still paying far too much just to feed the lot. 

Chrissie is almost fourteen now. She offered to put in an application but she’s still a few years from all that. Besides, you don’t want her to be like you. Only ever worrying about the empty fridge and your mom’s latest antics.  

Zooey is only ten and blissfully unconcerned with anything but anime and drawing in her sketchbook, and your brother, Milo, seven, likes to bring home frogs and snakes. They’re both too young to sense anything is off, though at times, they ask you very pertinent questions about the other kids in their class. 

You sigh. You never wanted this life. Against your will, you’ve inherited your mother’s lot. Your siblings need a parent and she’s not willing to be one. So, you’ll just have to ring through eggs and milk for the rest of your life and make sure they aren’t caught in the same bog. 

“Hey,” the sharp greeting draws you back. 

You blink and shake away the daze. You look over at Mr. Marshall. Not again. You do your best to smooth the worry from your forehead and reach for the sole item on the belt. An excuse, you’re sure. 

You can through the breakfast tray of a hardboiled egg, pita, hummus, cheese, and grapes. The beep chirps harshly in your ears as he stares you down over the top of your till. You stifle a yawn as you hover your hand over the buttons. 

“That everything?” You ask dully. 

“You looked worried,” he moves to lean on the other side of debit machine, where his tray awaits him. “Like maybe you’re keeping secrets.” 

You huff, “I told you I haven’t heard from Faye.” 

“I didn’t ask.” 

“Don’t treat me like I’m stupid,” you snap, “are you going to pay or do you want me to put this back, detective?” 

“I’m off duty,” he tilts his head, “night shift.” 

“Great, so credit or cash?” 

He puffs through his nostrils and squares his jaw, “lot of kids running around your place, huh?” 

“No,” you say curtly, “don’t.” 

“I’m just tryna figure out where my kid is. Pretty crowded at yours so... maybe she’s somewhere else.” 

“Maybe she is,” you utter in exasperation, “but I guess it doesn’t matter how many times I tell you that I don’t know where. You're still going to waste my time. And yours. So, please sir, cash or credit?” 

He scoffs and looks around, the place is still desolate, “you got time.” 

But you don’t have the patience. You barely keep from the retort. You turn and start tidying the till, distracting yourself as you rearrange your sanitizer and check the bin in case it was missed. 

“She’s my daughter. How would you feel if one of your sisters ran off, huh?” 

“You don’t get to talk about my sisters,” you turn back to him, “fine, alright, you want evidence, I’ll give you evidence, sir.” You take out your phone and flick through it in frustration, “the last message she sent me was the night we went out.” You turn the screen to him, “she hasn’t texted, she hasn’t called. Happy? Cause I don’t think she’s interested in being my friend anymore. She’s finally outgrown the poor girl.” 

You can’t help but throw the phone at him as your emotion wells up, “she was only ever friends with me to piss you off. Like I said, I’m not stupid. I just--” you cut yourself off, “I got work to do.” 

You turn back to the screen at your shoulder and brace the cash drawer. You take a slow breath and let it out. You’re embarrassed. He finally did it. He finally got you to crack. You refuse to look at him as he gently places your phone on the counter. 

“Got it,” he says softly, “she isn’t with you.” He clears his throat and shifts, “debit.” 

You grit your teeth, staring at the screen as you hit the button to activate the pin pad, “go ahead.” 

You listen to the beep of each button as he puts in his pin. You wait and the till chimes as the transaction goes through. You rip of the receipt and drop it beside you on the counter without looking. You can hear everything, even the soft noise of him slipping his card back in his wallet. You keep your attention on the monitor. 

“Enjoy your breakfast,” he says. 

Your furrow your nose as you listen to his footsteps and only turn when you hear the automatic door whoosh. You look down at your phone beside the tray of food, the receipt laid neatly over it. You peek up at the doors and your stomach growls. 

His pity is hardly preferable to his spite. 

[bubbles-for-all-of-us]

Always have but never hold

Previous chapter / Next chapter

a/n I mean won't lie really though I would write more than one part but look at us. But wow, thank you all for the love and support!🤍✨

warning: that same angsty struggle bus.

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

Carmy had been awake for some time now. Well, he had been slipping in and out of sleep ever since his usual alarm chimed through the quiet and dark bedroom. Five sharp. You had also stirred, pushing against his chest almost robotically as you moved to get up. You were so used to doing that while half asleep that you didn't even rub your eyes to wake yourself up in the slightest. Just as Carmy had gently tightened his grip around you, "Lay down", he muttered softly. You didn't fight him, nestling your head in the crook of Carmy's neck. He once again placed your bandaged hand on his chest. "Five more minutes", you muttered, but Carmy only shushed you gently, running his fingers through your hair. "I won't sleep, just...", you muttered, a smile tugging on Carmy's lips. You were going to fall asleep. If you hadn't already.

It was as if someone had ripped the blindfold off his eyes yesterday. Only yesterday, right before falling asleep, did Carmy notice how tired you looked, how your cheeks had sunken in slightly, and how your skin looked paler. He hated it because that was what he had driven you to. So right before sleep took over, he promised himself to skip tomorrow. Richie was playing big balls anyway. Maybe allowing him a day to do everything himself would be an eye-opener. Well, Carmen still planned to be there for lunch and dinner. He was too anxious to fully leave the restaurant without watch, but he could let himself miss the breakfast rush. For you.

Carmy pulled your leg further up so it lay comfortably over his legs. Fingers holding onto your naked thigh as he drew different patterns. He brought your hand, resting on his chest, to his lips. Something he had done constantly ever since it was placed there. Staying completely still from time to time just so he could listen to your breathing.

Carmen had also let his mind wander to the dinner when he told Mikey about you. "And there's something more, actually", he had muttered after Mikey had looked over the present in his hands. Carmy remembers feeling stupid almost instantly. Like an idiot. He had thought so much. Running it over and over in his head. He knew that he didn't want to tell anyone else about you. But for some reason, he wanted to let Mikey know.

"You're spoiling me", Mikey joked. "It's not a physical gift... not a gift at all... not related... well", Carmy had stuttered all over, hands running through his hair clumsily, "I met a girl, and I just... we're dating". Back then, Carmen had missed it, but now, looking back at the memory, he was convinced that something sparked within Mikey's eyes. Hope? Joy? Some strange emotions that Carmen hadn't seen before. But one thing Carmen remembered very clearly. It's the words that Mikey had said while clasping his shoulder: "Don't you fucking dare break her heart. She's the best thing that's ever happened to you". Those words had sparked all these emotions back then, and Carmy had said nothing in return. Now he would have said that he knew. Even before all the shit went titts up, Carmen knew that you would be there for him. Through it all.

Now he wanted nothing more but to lecture himself on how he had chosen to neglect you. He felt guilty for just pushing you headfirst into things that were not at all important to you. Carmen didn't even remember the last time he saw you with a brush between your fingers. Did you even have paint in this apartment? Well, you haven't even unpacked the boxes. Living out of them as if wishing that one morning you two will wake up and realize that all of this has just been a nightmare. That you were still growing individually, happy in your own tiny, chaotic bubble. Not sacrificing everything for one another constantly.

You stirred slightly in Carmy's embrace, and he instantly snapped himself out of the trance, moving to run his fingers over your skin in hopes of keeping you sleeping a bit longer. He had forgotten how uneasy your sleep was. Carmen let you hold him through the nights now, following everything that had happened, and stopped paying attention to your nightmares. Fears.

"Hey", your light, groggy voice filled the silence, and Carmy instantly looked down at you. "Hi", he whispered back. A light smile casts across your face, and Carmy wishes he could freeze it in time, especially when it's so quickly replaced by a frown and you shuffle to get up, peeking over at the clock standing on the bedside table. "Shit, fuck, Carm, we are late", you quickly reach for the covers, but Carmy only tightens his grip on you.

"We're not", he mutters, and you look at him all confused. "It's past eight! We have... We haven't... the food". Carmy watches you before moving to lift himself higher on his elbows, one hand reaching for your face. "I know what time it is and what hasn't been done. Just...", he swallows thickly, "Just after last night... After last night, I thought we needed to have a slow morning". And you did have the best sleep in a long time. Leaving your body almost feeling funny at the number of hours it had finally had to rest. You let yourself just sit there. On the thing you two called bed, that was nothing more than a matter on the floor. Carmy slowly ran his fingers over your exposed thighs, not rushing you to wake yourself up fully.

"Do you remember how you would sneak into my room back in New York?", you muttered, and Carmy's cheeks grew pink instantly. You were truly his first crush back then. His first in many ways. He didn't know what longing for someone felt like until you were there, only a door away, and he couldn't go without saying goodbye, without a kiss on your cheek. Awkward as fuck was he with you back then, but you loved him regardless. "Which time when I kiss you or break your bed?", he said in an almost teasing manner, and you let out a chuckle, lowering down to lay beside him once more. "You said it was an accident, but I never bought it. You did it on purpose", you said, tapping your finger on his chest. "How else was I supposed to make sure that you slept with me every night?", Carmy stated, and you burst out laughing, because indeed, ever since then, you had always slept in Carmy's bed.

"I've missed you like this", he muttered, and you instantly tilted your head up so you could see his face. "What do you mean?", "So... so you... just you and alive", he said, and you bit the inside of your cheek. You wanted to tell him that he had nothing to do with it and that it was just life. A series of bad events, but you didn't. Not in the way you wished you would have. "I want you to be okay", you muttered, "If that means losing a part of me, so be it." Carmy nodded, but you could tell that he was slowly slipping back into his head. "I love you", you muttered in hopes of still dragging him out, but he never said it back. Not with words, at least. Carmy pulled you closer to his chest, gently pressing a couple of kisses to the crown of your head.

You two walked hand in hand down towards the restaurant. Talking on and on about little things. The potential slots of free time to finally unpack, the furniture sale down the block from where you lived next Friday. You could tell that the closer you got to the restaurant, the more fidgety he got. His lips thinned, and he dropped your hand so he could pull out a pack of cigarettes, lighting one up as he went. The ache within your chest grew, but then it was your fault for believing that everything could just change in a day.

Tina dropped her cigarette as she saw you two approaching; her hands moved to cup your face as she looked you over, "Oh, mi hija, I was worried sick". You smiled at her, pressing your hands over hers, "All okay, no more bleeding on the counter, chef". You could tell from the look in her eyes that the worry wasn't all just based on the injury; there was more. You walked out, and here you were again. But she dropped it, glancing at Carmy for a moment before bringing you into a quick hug. "You deserve better", Tina muttered, only for you to hear. You pulled away, slightly startled by her words. Turning your head to where Carmy stood, you found an empty spot there.

The cigarette was carelessly burning between your fingers. You had closed the door to the office the moment you stepped inside and had only now slipped out for a smoke. You did catch Richie's gaze from across the hall—maybe even a need to strike up a conversation—but then again, he was most definitely going to scream or say some shit, so you were more than glad to just leave it all behind the wooden door.

"Oh, I...", you didn't hear the crack on the door but managed to catch a glimpse of Sydney, who was already on her way back inside. "No, no, stay; there's enough space for two here", she laughed nervously at your words but stepped out without a second thought. Sitting down on the ledge beside you, Sydney sipped the water out of the plastic jug. "How's your hand?", she asked, pointing to the bandage after a few moments. You looked down to examine it yourself. It still ached slightly, but if you were being honest, you didn't feel it that much now.

"In place", you muttered, clenching and unclenching your fingers. "How's the kitchen?", you threw a glance her way, "Not on fire", she shrugged her shoulders. "Yet", you both said at the same time, and you bust out into fits of giggles once your eyes meet. "I saw the... well, the book of suggestions you have for this place", you said, tapping the cigarette against the edge of the ashtray. Sydney instantly tensed again, "Oh, don't take it personally; just I was messing around and...", "It looked well thought out to me", you said calmly. She was exactly what this place needed. Someone with a head. Well, a well-working head at that. And passion. Finding joy in the hustle of the kitchen. She had that same drive that Carmy used to have back in the day. The glistening spark in her eyes.

"I'm not saying that this place is run badly", Sydney rubbed her hands together nervously, and you instantly threw her a look, so she sighed, knowing full well what it meant. "No, okay, it's shit", she admitted. And she was right. Carmy had too much on his hands. If he was focused on one part, the other was suffering. A never-ending cycle. "I'll make sure Carmy looks through it", You smiled at her softly, and she returned the gesture.

"You two...", Sydney said awkwardly, not daring to fully finish her thought. You nodded your head, letting another cloud of smoke slip past your lips. "We're dating, yeah," if you take dating in its most basic form. It was funny that you had to double-check in your brain if Carmen had asked you out properly. "He had some serious beef with Richie today", you turn your head to Sydney instantly at the sound of that. "Bout what?", "You", your gaze is focused on Sydney, and you two just stay like that for a moment.

Then you let your shoulders slump, running a hand through your hair. "Mmm, Richie specializes in hating me", you muttered, not daring to look back at the girl next to you. Yet you wondered what had happened. Had Richie finally gone to Carmy? Had he said it all the same way he's been saying it to you? Listing the reasons why you shouldn't be here. Why Carmy should have never fallen for you.

"He looked pretty worried to me, but then again, I don't know them much", and Sydney's words seem genuine, but you just couldn't fathom how Richie and worried could go in the same sentence. Especially when it came to you. "Don't pay them much attention", you muttered, moving to crush your cigarette. You stepped closer to the door, ready to disappear before halting. "Hey, Sydney", you said, catching her gaze from across the side alley. "You're doing great so far. Proud of you", the rawest form of emotion ran through her eyes and features. She didn't say anything; she just nodded her head, but you knew she needed it, and you were glad you could give it to her.

You were sorting through the last bin full of letters and papers when Carmy walked in, a plate in his hand. "Late lunch for my girl", he said with a light smile, and you instantly moved the pile to the side. "What's this princess treatment I'm getting?", you teased him, and Carmen's gaze instantly tightened. You knew well that one way he expressed his love was through food. Words failed him almost always. Actions... Also, something he needed to improve, but one thing that always stayed true was making food. The meals he prepared said it all. They carried love, and the little details showed just how much thought went into them.

"I don't recognize this place", Carmy said, looking around the tiny office. "Can you believe that you have a desk?", you said, pointing to the now junk-free space. You hadn't seen that surface since you stepped in here, and now you're looking at that white surface. It felt as if there was more breathing space here. "No, I thought about getting a new one", Carmy sat down beside you, eyes watching every bite you took. That was another thing that he did. Watching you eat, looking out for reactions. For anything that might indicate your feelings from within.

"This is delightful, chef", you said, mouth full of the sandwich. "Richie hates it", Carmy said in return, throwing his head back in frustration. "Richie hates most things; his judgment shouldn't be something you take so personally", you reached for Carmy's hand, rubbing your fingers over the shell of it. "He's a big part of this", Carmy breathed out again, moving to nuzzle closer to your side. The side hug was uncomfortable, with him nearly meandering over you and his head hitting your thighs, but you let him recharge for a moment. Knowing that he's been at the battlefield all day.

"Will you help with family tonight?", he asked again after some time. "I mean, would you like to", he corrected his own words quickly before lifting his eyes to you. You brushed his messy curls away from his face. "I will; I just want to sort through the last box, and I'll come out", You wanted to make sure that you had looked, opened, and added up all the bills. This place needed to start running smoothly. So getting the finances straight was important. "Don't rush", Carmy said, pressing a kiss to the side of your neck before cupping the side of your face. "And eat this. I want a clean plate, chef". You rolled your eyes, leaning in to softly kiss his lips. "Heard, chef", you muttered, watching him leave.

The phone pinged at the side of the table right as you were sorting out the last bits of paperwork. Gosh, you just hoped the last payment you made today would kill the never-ending fire of phone calls, messages, and emails, but the happiness was short-lived. You picked it up without double-checking it. Flipping the screen towards your face then your body stilled. You did a double-take. Closing your eyes and opening them up again. Blinking rapidly for a bit, but it still read Claire: I'm so glad I got to see you again. Your guts twisted. A cold shiver ran through your spine, making your fingers tingle. Panic rose in your chest. Who the hell was Claire, and when had Carmy met up with her? He didn't mention going anywhere. Was she someone he knew? Maybe it was nothing and you were reading into... Another ping slit the silence: Hopefully, we'll see each other soon. I miss your silly face already. You bit the insides of your cheeks, feeling the metallic taste almost immediately. You stared at it for a moment. Letting the words sink in before locking Carmy's phone and placing it back where it was.

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

Taglist: @nishinoyahhh @thewulf @shewasthelimit

[cheriladycl01]

So teach me - Sergio Perez x Trainee F1 Rookie! Reader

Plot: Sergio wants to take a year or two out leaving an open seat in Red Bull and who better for Christian Horner to get besides Red Bull is the Red Bull Trainee who was there reserve driver last year and has been training for this moment.

"Sergio, are you serious?" Christian asks his second Red Bull member, Sergio had just come to him telling him he wouldn’t be renewing his contract with Red Bull and that he felt 2025 was a good time to take some earned leave from the sport. and not fully retire he had requested to be a mentor for the youth Red Bull drivers. Before he took time with his family, he knew he'd come back in a year or two, but as of now his family were where he needed to be at.

“Yes, I’m being serious. I want to spend more time with my family” he admits. It was getting draining, the travelling back and forth and not seeing his wife and children for weekends on end.

“Okay, but I’m putting you with the hardest piece of work you’ll ever meet in Motorsports, she’s driven to succeed and is a phenomenal driver but she has … well let’s just say she isn’t the easiest person to get along with and she’s put us all through hell. So if you are serious about this, that's who you have to mentor. She's quite frankly the only person I trust to take your place" Christian said, already thinking about how the hell they are going to announce the new line up for 2025.

It was lucky really, Audi were coming onto the scope in 2026, and there was talk that they were keen on giving you a seat since you were doing so well. So maybe this was actually a good thing, as it scared Christian more thinking of you in an Audi than Sergio out of a Red Bull.

"She's in the back, you can go meet her" he advises pointing a pen towards the garage where they stored different components and the spare wheels.

He walked through looking for someone that would potentially be this absolute piece of work that Christian had made you out to be. You from the way described were clearly on the younger agenda of the grid and he knew communicating with you may be hard because of that but what he didn't expect was a complete and utter lunatic.

He took one look at you and assumed you were basically feral, you had your helmet on, stereo in hand walking towards the garage where his and Max's cars were banging your head to the loud and aggressive music.

"Oh lord" Sergio breathes out looking at you, already knowing this would be a long 3 months of him training you.

"Y/N please turn that down! We're trying to work" one of the engineers working on the car complains as he puts the power drill down on the edge, not wanting to mess anything up.

"Arghhh fine Marcino, but you know you love my music" you grinned taking your helmet off. Your curly hair came falling out around it, in messy knots.

"Y/N?" Sergio calls out and looks over to you, he steps forward into the garage and smiles at you extending a hand. You shake it, clearly you had some kind of manners and decorum, he couldn't help but think.

"What's up old man?" you stifle a laugh trying to look as serious as possible.

"Old man? I'm only 34!" he exclaims looking at his hands to see if he could in fact pass himself off as an old man.

"Well, old to me" you smirk, picking up the bottle of squash you'd left on the workbench earlier, taking a quick swig from it.

"So, long story short. This old man is going on leave for a year or two and retire..." he starts trying to explain his situation to you.

"Oh so you are old old" you laugh giving him a pointed look.

"No- look let me finish, I'm retiring my car for a few seasons and for whatever reason Christian Horner wants you to take my seat, but before you do that I'm going to be training you" he offers and you place a hand on your hip, almost daring him to continue.

"And why may i ask do i need you to train me for this?" you asks, obviously you knew he was good at his job. It was Sergio Perez stood in front of you but that didn't mean your demeanor was up to slip and slide and make you look like an incompetent nobody.

"Come on, surly even you know that. I'm the only Red Bull in the last few years that has been able to keep up with Verstappen, you wanna give into the pressure like Gasly and Albon or do you want me to show you how to drive on par with the current world champion" he asks crossing his arms like a strict parent.

"God jheez alright. What do you want? You want me doing pressup's or neck training. Or time testing. Or you wanting me to show you how i can drive?" you ask looking at him.

"You think Christian flew you out to Abu Dhabi as a special guest? No your our test drive for tonight in free practice and you'll be driving my car with Verstappen"

"Oh its on" you say. The engineers step back observing the car.

"Go get into the suit Christian left for you, it'll be your first Red Bull racing suit" he says patting your back making you shrug off.

"Don't touch me bro" you say giving him the side eye before going and changing into your fireproofs and your suit. Navy blue looked good on you, you left with the Red Bull cap covering the face and walking back out to where Sergio had left you.

"You want some help getting in or?" Sergio asks awkwardly, looking at you as you walked round the car, a finger swiping around the halo as you got closer.

"Woah, I can drive the car I just cant get in it alone... that's really interesting how have i survived this long in motorsports its insane" you admit, looking over the car. One of the engineers hands you over your own helmet that someone had made look a little bit more like that off a Red Bull Driver.

"Alright enough with that sarcasm okay?" he frowns, he hands you the steering wheel and you place it in the car, you feel about getting familiar with it.

"Are you ready?" he asks slapping the visor down.

"Yeah" you smile, nodding at him.

You pull out onto the track, Verstappen pulled out after you which felt odd having a World Champion behind you on the track.

"Right, first lap do as normal get a lay for the track and what the car feels like. Then we can do a flying lap" the engineer advises.

You do as he says, testing the track. Your tires were good and the car felt powerful. You come around and some of the others pit, meaning its time for your flying lap.

"Push the car to the max without fucking it for Sergio okay?" the engineer offers, you chuckle a little into the radio finding it funny.

"Why put me in the damn car if you think im going to wreck it, no trust in me whatsoever" you frown, shaking you head a little before putting your foot down.

You were an amazing driver, however it seemed to most that you were fearless and a rather aggressive driver. Suitable to be able to match Max's driving style, however as a rookie you still had your mistakes and over or under judgements that in races would cost you places and potentially put you at risk.

You managed to complete two flying laps by the timer had run out for FP1.

"What are the positions?" you ask.

"Oscar in first, your in second and George in third" making you gasp in shock, you knew you'd drive quick but you didn't think it was top 3.

"Where did you learn to drive like that" Sergio asks you as you hopped out the car. You pull your helmet off and then your balaclava your hair falling around your face in a mess of tangled curls.

"Practice, by watching races? Why?" you say not really sure what else to say. You'd never had like a specific mentor, it was just the radio engineer and the team you were with giving you pointers in the debriefs on how to improve.

"You take angles that you shouldn't far to tight, making your tire management awful. Your aggressive and nearly took out Lando today, because he was slower on the straight. You have lots to learn" he admits crossing your arms. You got to argue back, having disagreed with the prior statements but you knew that would get you nowhere.

"So teach me..." you say leaning against his car.

Taglist:

@littlesatanicassholebitch @hockey-racing-fubol @laura-naruto-fan1998 @22yuki @simxican @sinofwriting @lewisroscoelove @cmleitora @stupidandunnecessary @clayra-g @daemyratwst @honey-belden @moonypixel @lauralarsen @vader-is-hot @ironcowboycopnickel @itsjustkhaos @the-untamed-soul @beebo86 @happylittlereader @ziejustme @lou-larcher5 @thewulf @purplephantomwolf @chasing-liberosis @chillyleclerc @chanthereader @annoyingmoonballoon @summissss @evieepepi08 @havaneseoger08 @celesteblack08 @gulphulp @fandom1ruined2me @celebstories @starfusionsworld @jspitwall @sierruhhhh @georgeparisole @dakotatankbig @youcannotcancelquidditch @zzonsbeek @tallbrownhairsarcastic @mellowarcadefun @ourteenagetragedy @otako5811 @countingstacksandpanicattacks @peachiicherries @formulas-bitch @cherry-piee @peachiicherries

[mostlysignssomeportents]

$100 billion later, autonomous vehicles are still a car-wreck

Autonomous vehicles were always a shell-game. The last time I wrote about them was a year ago, when Uber declared massive losses. Uber’s profitability story was always, “Sure, we’re losing money now, but once we create self-driving cars, we can fire our drivers and make a bundle.”

https://pluralistic.net/2020/09/30/death-to-all-monopoly/#pogo-stick-problem

But Uber never came close to building an AV. After blowing $2.5b, the company invented a car whose mean-distance-to-fatal-crash was half a mile. Uber had to pay another company — $400 million! — to take the self-driving unit off its hands.

It’s tempting to say that Uber just deluded itself into thinking that AVs were a viable, near-term technology. But $2.5b was a bargain, because it allowed the company’s original investors (notably the Saudi royals) to offload their Uber shares on credulous suckers when the company IPOed.

Likewise Tesla, a company that has promised fully self-driving autonomous vehicles “within two years” for more than a decade. The story that Teslas will someday drive themselves is key to attracting retail investors to the company.

Tesla’s overvaluation isn’t solely a product of the cult of personality around Musk, nor is it just that its investors can’t read a balance-sheet and so miss the fact that the company is reliant upon selling the carbon-credits that allow gas-guzzling SUVs to fill America’s streets.

Key to Tesla’s claims to eventual profitability was that AVs would overcome geometry itself, and end the Red Queen’s Race whereby adding more cars to the road means you need more roads, which means everything gets farther apart, which means you need more cars — lather, rinse, repeat.

Geometry hates cars, but Elon Musk hates public transit (he says you might end up seated next to “a serial killer”). So Musk spun this story where tightly orchestrated AVs would best geometry and create big cities served speedy, individualized private vehicles. You could even make passive income from your Tesla, turning it over to drive strangers (including, presumably, serial killers?) around as a taxicab.

But Teslas are no closer to full self-driving than Ubers. In fact, no one has come close to making an AV. In a characteristically brilliant and scorching article for Bloomberg, Max Chafkin takes stock of the failed AV project:

https://www.bloomberg.com/news/features/2022-10-06/even-after-100-billion-self-driving-cars-are-going-nowhere

Chafkin calculates that the global R&D budget for AVs has now exceeded $100 billion, and demonstrates that we have next to nothing to show for it, and that whatever you think you know about AV success is just spin, hype and bullshit.

Take the much-vaunted terribleness of human drivers, which the AV industry likes to tout. It’s true that the other dumdums on the road cutting you off and changing lanes without their turn-signals are pretty bad drivers, but actual, professional drivers are amazing. The average school-bus driver clocks up 500 million miles without a fatal crash (but of course, bus drivers are part of the public transit system).

Even dopes like you and me are better than you may think — while cars do kill the shit out of Americans, it’s because Americans drive so goddamned much. US traffic deaths are a mere one per 100 million miles driven, and most of those deaths are due to recklessness, not inability. Drunks, speeders, texters and sleepy drivers cause traffic fatalities — they may be skilled drivers, but they are also reckless.

But even the most reckless driver is safer than a driverless car, which “lasts a few seconds before crapping out.” The best robot drivers are Waymos, which mostly operate in the sunbelt, “because they still can’t handle weather patterns trickier than Partly Cloudy.”

Waymo claims to have driven 20m miles — that is, 4% of the distance we’d expect a human school-bus driver to go before having a fatal wreck. Tesla, meanwhile, has stopped even reporting how many miles its autopilot has mananged on public roads. The last time it disclosed, in 2019, the total was zero.

Using “deep learning” to solve the problems of self-driving cars is a dead-end. As NYU psych prof Gary Marcus told Chafkin, “deep learning is something similar to memorization…It only works if the situations are sufficiently akin.”

Which is why self-driving cars are so useless when they come up against something unexpected — human drivers weaving through traffic, cyclists, an eagle, a drone, a low-flying plane, a deer, even some pigeons on the road.

Self-driving car huxters call this “the pogo-stick problem” — as in “you never can tell when someone will try to cross the road on a pogo-stick.” They propose coming up with strict rules for humans to make life easier for robots.

https://www.theverge.com/2018/7/3/17530232/self-driving-ai-winter-full-autonomy-waymo-tesla-uber

But as stupid as this is, it’s even stupider than it appears at first blush. It’s not that AVs are confused by pogo sticks — they’re confused by shadowsand clouds and squirrels. They’re confused by left turns that are a little different than the last left turn they tried.

If you’ve been thinking that AVs were right around the corner, don’t feel too foolish. The AV companies have certainly acted like they believed their own bullshit. Chafkin reminds us of the high-stakes litigation when AV engineer Anthony Levandowski left Google for Uber and was sued for stealing trade secrets.

The result was millions in fines (Levandowski declared bankruptcy) and even a prison sentence for Levandowski (Trump pardoned him, seemingly at the behest of Peter Thiel and other Trumpist tech cronies). Why would companies go to all that trouble if they weren’t serious about their own claims?

It’s possible that they are, but that doesn’t mean we have to take those claims at face-value ourselves. Companies often get high on their own supplies. The litigation over Levandowski can be thought of as a species of criti-hype, Lee Vinsel’s extraordinarily useful term for criticism that serves to bolster the claims of its target:

https://pluralistic.net/2021/02/02/euthanize-rentiers/#dont-believe-the-hype

Another example of criti-hype: the claims about the risks of ubiquitous drone delivery — which, like AVs, is half-bullshit, half self-delusion:

https://pluralistic.net/2021/08/05/comprehensive-sex-ed/#droned

Today, Levandowski has scaled back his plans to build autonomous vehicles. Instead, he’s built autonomous dump-trucks that never leave a literal sandbox, and trundle back and forth on the same road all day, moving rocks from a pit to a crusher.

$100 billion later, that’s what the AV market has produced.

Image:

Cryteria (modified) https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:HAL9000.svg

CC BY 3.0: https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by/3.0/deed.en

Gartner (modified): https://www.gartner.com/en/research/methodologies/gartner-hype-cycle

[Image ID: A chart illustrating the Gartner hype-cycle; racing down the slope from the 'peak of inflated expectations' to the 'trough of disillusionment' is the staring eye of HAL 9000 from 2001: A Space Odyssey, chased by speed-lines.]

[dmajor7th]

Renouncing the throne would not set Wilhelm free

A question asked of those in the Young Royals fandom: Are you Team Monarchy or Team Abdication?

For those who wish to see Wilhelm fulfil his birthright, the desire comes from him being able to find peace with himself and thus the role, and setting an example by living as the first openly queer monarch in Swedish Royal history. That it denies August the position also helps this argument.

For those who wish to see Wilhelm renounce the thrown, the desire comes from wishing him to be free from the shackles of unasked for expectations, and emancipated from the pressure that crushes down on his wellbeing, his romantic relationship, and his ability to live a "normal" teen and adult life.

But here's the thing: Wilhelm is marked for life. Refusing to become King, and removing himself from all royal duties and the Crown itself, will not lead him to become a "normal" person.

There is a real world, contemporary example of a prince forsaking his duties and being no freer from the media circus that haunts him—Prince Harry of the British Royal Family. The details of his conflict and departure from his royal duties are widely publicised, no less than in his own autobiography. To be sure, the pressures and scrutiny he has faced growing up are horrific—least of all the media treatment of his mother's death—and the racialised aggression towards his wife is beyond disgusting. It makes total sense that he would want to remove himself and his own family from the shit show that is being a royal in the Internet Age.

But rather than give him and his family the peaceful life he seems to crave, the media fire has only intensified. How much of this is driven my him I can't say; but the point is, making an effort to step away form his expectations has not freed him.

And so, to Wilhelm. He can chose to renounce the thrown, and he can choose not to become King, but he will always, always, be Prince Wilhelm. Unless he were to completely cut himself off from society, run away into a forest and never be seen again, he will forever be marked as a Prince.

Wille has also stated that he actually likes the monarchy. Who would he even be outside of it? He can't just get a job in a bakery or be a bus driver. What would he do? How would he live?

What I want is for Wilhelm to be able to find peace with himself and his place in the world, and based on what we've seen in season 3, I don't think it's more likely that will come to him outside of the monarchy than within it. He is a young, troubled man who needs considerable help and support, and I don't think leaving the framework he's accustomed to—with all of the resources it provides—to walk into an even greater media fire will help him.

I want Wille to be happy and I want him to be free. But moving away from his family and birthright is not, for me, the answer.

[justlemmeadoreyou]

windfall | (mechanic!harry part2)

summary: part 2 to this

word count: 2k

warnings: cursing

masterlist | ask box(requests are open!)

As you walked away from the garage, frustration and annoyance built up within you. Harry's indifferent and grumpy attitude was not making this situation any easier. You considered finding another garage, but deep down, you knew that might not be a feasible option given the state of your car.

You didn’t even want to go to work today. Sleeping curled up in the backseat of the car had made your body sore, especially your back. But leaving work would mean staying at the garage all day, listening to scolds from Harry, and you didn’t want that either.

So, you decided to go to work.

Walking to the nearest bus stop, you managed to get a bus that dropped you off near your office, but you still would have to walk half a mile.

Great.

You reached the office after about an hour, completely disheveled and tired. You had gotten a bit sweaty too, that failed the purpose of taking a shower, and you were already in the need of another.

Walking in, the receptionist as well as the other few looked at you judgmentally, but you successfully managed to ignore them, too tired to start a conversation and explain your circumstances.

Walking to your worn-out leather chair, you threw your bag on the table, and slumped down on the chair. You looked at your computer, and then at the pile of files you had on your table, as well as the reports you had to finish working on, to get signed by Jake, your boss. You pouted; it was so much work for just one person. The worn-out chair creaked as you shifted, contemplating how to tackle the mountain of tasks in front of you.

Turning on the computer, you got up from your chair, and decided to go for a coffee run.

Turning the coffee machine on, and placing your cup below, you stared at the liquid pouring down as it gradually filled the cup. After a few moments, another person entered the room, and you looked over your shoulder.

Thankfully, it was your friend, Mia.

Mia was one of the very few girls in the office who worked at the same position as you, and you two had grown really close over the past  6 months, when she had driven you home one night from the bar, you had been really wasted and she was he only one sober. She had made you drink water, take a Tylenol, and tucked you in.  She was so caring.

She walked with a smile up to you, proceeding to retrieve her own cup. She then came and stood next to you, while the machine was still filling up your cup.

“Morning.”

“Morning. You look tired. What happened?” she asked. You sighed and frowned, as all of the things that had happened in just the last 24 hours came rushing back, making you want to cry so bad.

“Yeah, I took the bus, and walked like, half a mile to reach here”

“Oh god. What about your car?”

“It totaled. And my apartment too, it’s gone. My landlord kicked me out.”

“Jesus, that’s awful. So you slept in your car?”

“Mhm” you removed your cup, and replaced it with hers. Taking a sip, you closed your eyes as it cascaded down your throat. You hadn’t eaten anything since yesterday afternoon, and the coffee gave you some energy to finish some of your work, till the afternoon at least.

“I’m so sorry, Y/N.” she frowned too, feeling sorry for you.

“It’s alright. Should have seen that coming. I mean, I spent so much money on the concert tickets last month, I almost went broke. I couldn’t even pay rent, and it was due since so many months”

“Still. That’s so bad. If you want, you can stay at mine for a few days. My roommate has gone for a trip and I think she’ll come back next week”

Your eyes brightened. She was such a gem. You immediately put your cup down, and hugged her.

“Thank you so much. So so much”

Rest of the day went by great. You were able to submit 5 reports, and completed most of the files and cleared them off your desk. You had finally managed to find a place to live, at least for the next few days, and you were sure you could figure something out till then.

Walking back to the garage, you had a cute smile on your face. The prospect of having a place to stay for the next few days infused you with a sense of relief, and not having to see Harry everyday was an added advantage.

Reaching the garage, you spotted your car and walked to it. There was someone down below, working on it. You decided to sit by for a bit, to find Harry and tell him about the new conditions. Surely, he will be glad to see less of you throughout the week.

You knocked the hood of the car, hoping the person below would listen.

He came sliding out, but he wasn’t Harry.

And he was gorgeous. Bright blue eyes, with brunette hair. He was wearing a tank-top, the shirt tied around his waist. There was a bit of grease here and there, but you didn’t mind.

“Yeah?”

You blinked and shook your head, bringing your eyes back up to his face.

“Uh-yeah. I was just-I came to ask that-Oh-this-this is my car. I wanted to ask, is there any progress?” you stumbled a bit around your words, but managed to blurt out at least an understandable sentence.

“Oh, yeah. I checked the engine and it was…well, in a bad condition. I will have to replace the air filters, check the exhaust and combustion, and the fuel too. Will have to replace the battery too”

He got up, cleaning his hands on a stray cloth.

“Oh. It’s not totaled yet, is it?”

“No, lord no.  It’ll be much lower than that. How much did you buy this for?”

“About 35,000 dollars”

“Nope, this will be about 600 dollars.”

“Oh, thank god. I met, Harry? In the morning. And he scared me so bad. I felt that it was gone”

“No, he just likes to give hard time to everyone. I’m Niall, by the way” he extended his hand for a handshake, and you gladly did.

“Hi. I’m Y/N. And he really scared me so much.”

“Yeah, he just does that so people use their cars better. Or at least live in fear till the repair is done. “

You shook your head, and remembered that you had to pack up your stuff, since Mia, and the moving truck was going to be here soon.

“That’s so bad. Is he around?”

“Yeah, he’s in the back. I’ll call him.”

“Sure”

He went in and came back after a while, and Harry still had his nose scrunched up, and shoulders slumped, hands crossed in the front.

“What’s up?” he asked.

“Oh-I wanted to tell you that-my friend, she offered me her apartment for a while, so for a week, I will be living with her. So I’ll take my stuff away and you can take my number, call me if it’s done.”

“Cool. But I don’t do calls. You’ll have to be come and check yourself”

“Don’t be a dick” Niall interrupted, “I can take your number. I’ll call you if it’s done early”

You smiled, and gave him your number. He promised to call you, and reassured you that he’ll do his best work on it. It made you feel a bit relaxed, and at ease. At least, everyone was not as rude as Harry. Soon, Mia came with her car and a truck, so you could move your stuff from your old apartment as soon as possible. There wasn’t much: a couch, two almirahs, your bed which had been dissembled, the mattress a TV, a refrigerator, an oven, kitchen utensils and an induction. Some other small appliances too, like the iron, straightener, etc, but that could fit in your bag.

After everything was loaded and your car was empty, you gave the keys to Niall, and picked up your bag, walking to Mia’s car and keeping it in the backseat. You went around and sat in the front, as she drove away to her place, the truck following behind.

The night was dark as Mia's car cruised through the quiet streets. You sat in the front seat, staring out of the window as the city lights blurred and headlights blinked. The stress of your car and the situation of next week, when her roommate would be back, still lingered on your shoulders. But, you were glad to have found a temporary refuge at her place.

Upon reaching Mia's place, you stepped out of the car. The air inside was cozy and inviting. Mia led the way, and you followed suit, hauling your heavy back awkwardly.

After moving your stuff to a corner, you both slumped down on the couch. The day had been tiring, but the welcoming aroma of her home made you feel at ease.

With Mia's help, you settled into the spare room she had graciously offered. It wasn't much, but it was a haven compared to the uncertainty of your car. You thanked Mia again, overwhelmed by her kindness, and assured her that you would find a more permanent solution soon.

The night unfolded with shared laughter, stories, and a home-cooked meal. Mia was a great cook, and you hadn’t tasted her food in so many months. You talked and laughed, and having dinner with a friend was so comforting. As the clock ticked away, fatigue set in, and you found solace in the softness of the spare bed.

Morning light filtered through the curtains, gently waking you from a restful sleep. You opened your bag and took out your toiletries, and laid out the clothes for the day. Brushing your teeth, freshening up and taking a bath, you felt so much better than you did yesterday.

As you sat on the dining table drinking coffee with Mia, your phone buzzed.

It was an unknown number.

Hey, it’s Niall

Your heartbeat increased in your chest. The gorgeous brunette had messaged you?!

You put the cup down, taking the phone down. Opening his chat, you quickly typed out a reply:

Hi, good morning, Niall :)

You didn’t respond to texts from unknown mechanics with a good morning message and a smile usually, but he was different. He treated you with so much kindness, and to be honest, you had a little crush on him.

His response was quick,

Morning, love. How you been? Sleep well?

Your heart fluttered at the endearment in his message. It was unexpected, especially considering your recent interactions with mechanics, particularly the grumpy Harry. Niall's tone was a stark contrast, and you couldn't help but smile at the screen.

Yeah, slept better knowing my car is in good hands. Thanks again for your help. And you?

you replied, genuinely interested in how his night had been.

Niall's response was swift,

Glad to hear that! I slept like a log, thanks. You off to work? Yeah. You? Already there. Was working on your car just before I texted Oh. Well…good luck, I guess??? Lol. Yeah, it's all in a day's work. Don't worry; I've got it covered. Your car will be up and running smoothly in no time. Thanks, Niall. I appreciate it. No worries, love. Call me if you need anything. Sure, thanks

You closed your phone, throwing it inside your bag, you walked out to the door with a huge smile on your face.

a/n: i tried writing it better!hoip

lovely divider by @cafekitsune

i hope you like this! please don't hate me

here's my ko-fi if you feel generous

requests and feedback is welcome and much appreciated!!

>>>

general taglist:

@freedomfireflies @gurugirl @thechaoticjoy @styleslover-1994 @gem1712 @ellaorchard @bxbyysstuff @opheliaofficial07 @rafaaoli @tchlamqtsgf @the-mouse27 @indierockgirrl @vrittivsanghavi @walkingintheheartbreaksatellite @drewrry @babyiamperfectforyou @me-undiscovered @tbsloneely @whoreonmondays @kathb59 @avalentina @kittenhere @speedywritingharrystylesjudge @mypolicemanharryyy @theendx888

let me know if you want to be added, removed

.

[papermint-airplane]

WARNING: HUGE RANT AHEAD

As per the request from @nectar-cellar:

Oh boy prepare yourself for a foul-mouthed rant because I am MAD!!!! 😠😠😠😠 Not at you, NC. I love you. You can do no wrong in my eyes. 😘

No I am mad at this STUPID FUCKING SIM holy shit

OK FIRST OF ALL

He started life like THIS

What I can only describe as "Disney's Aladdin visits a dude ranch". Yes, I know I have used that exact outfit (minus the boots) for Roman before, shut up, you're not here to expose my hypocrisy, you're here to suffer with me because OH BOY DID I SUFFER.

Ok so he turned out like this. Not bad, you say? No. Bad. Very bad.

I SPENT TWO AND A HALF FUCKING HOURS ON THIS STUPID MOTHERFUCKER AND THERE'S STILL SOMETHING OFF ABOUT HIS FACE AND I CAN'T FIGURE OUT WHAT AND I PUT CONTOURING MAKEUP ON HIS FACE AND YOU CAN BARELY SEE IT BECAUSE FOR SOME REASON, THIS SKINTONE IS IMPOSSIBLE TO COLOR MATCH TONIGHT AND I DON'T KNOW WHY BECAUSE I'M USUALLY GREAT AT COLOR MATCHING FUCK THIS GUY

Yeah so I got him in Live Mode and there is just something about him that is pissing me right the fuck off and I don't know what it is. Is it the eyes? Are the eyes too big? Jaw too square? I DON'T KNOW WHAT IT IS AND IT'S PISSING ME OFF!!!!!!!!!! I really feel like the eyes are too big but I kept shrinking his eyes until he literally looked like this .👄. and it still didn't help.

I went in and out of CAS at least 7 times and I can't figure out what's off and I can't fix it and I HATE HIMMMMMMMMMM

"Who's made of pixels and sucks ass? This guy!"

"Don't you just love me?"

NO I WANT TO HIT YOU WITH A BUS

I know that making masc men is a challenge for me. This is not new information. It's been a problem for 20 years, it'll be a problem for 20 more. I know what I find attractive in a man, I just don't know what looks good on a Sim. Know what I mean? No? Stop being difficult, you know exactly what I mean.

I also tried using NC's new torso and oh boy that was an adventure because the torso is fire and his face is A FUCKING DISASTER. There is something about his head and his torso that are incongruous with each other and I don't. know. what. it. is. It's driving me crazy. No correction, it has DRIVEN me crazy, past tense. I am crazy now and this fucker is why!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

LOOK AT THIS PIECE OF SHIT WHY DOESN'T HIS HEAD FIT WHAT DID I DO WRONG

I even expanded my slider multiples so I could fine tune things thinking that would help but no I think it made everything worse ESPECIALLY MY MENTAL HEALTH

I hate him. I HAAAAAAAAATEEE HIIIIIIIIIM

So by now you're like "Laura there's nothing wrong with him, Laura you're taking this too seriously, Laura he's fine" and I know. I KNOW! I STILL HATE HIM

And you're god dang right I put that fucker on a pole. If I get community labeled because of this shit heap, I'm gonna lose my shitting mind.

Literally fuck you, I hate you so much. I didn't even give you a name. Do you know what your name is? "Stupid asshole who won't behave" that's what your name is.

I even threw Monica the Devil Girl in there hoping that would help. It didn't.

Know what the worst part is?

I enjoyed this. I mean yeah sure I hated the whole process and I hate the result and I hate this Sim and in a minute, I'm going to have an alien Sim land a meteor on top of his head, but there's something really cathartic about just unloading all of your vitriol on a Sim, you know? And it was definitely a challenge and definitely out of my comfort zone. I'll have to keep trying until I make a male Sim (other than Roman and Aiden) that I'm happy with.

This was a learning experience for sure.

Piece of shit.

[malk1ns]

A prompt if this sings to you... established relationship mid-30s sidgeno taking in a rookie to live with them? Maybe a Russian? Maybe not! Maybe it's ABO and the baby alpha is overwhelmed by milfy Sid/baby omega is overwhelmed by dilfy Geno? Maybe not! IDK I just want to see an awkward 18 year old being completely rabbit in the headlights witnessing these two icons and heroes being dorky and frisky and middle-aged at home.

Ooooh I love this!

This isn't my best work, but I haven't written in ages and I'm rusty, so—you get what you get, haha. But this is such a fun concept and I had a lot of fun thinking about it!!! That's part of why it's so disjointed I think, I had so many ideas about how this could look and what it could involve and I wanted to cram everything in. Maybe I'll revisit this when I can actually properly use the English language again and clean it up!

--

Mack doesn't get a choice about where he lives his rookie year.

Not a lot of guys do, really—if they're bouncing between the A and the big club, they get real familiar with a few specific hotels, and if they make the show right away the team usually encourages them to look for something in a particular neighborhood—but Mack, after the excitement of the draft was over and the contract negotiations began in earnest, didn't even get that much leeway.

He's a first overall pick. He's an omega. He was drafted by the Pittsburgh Penguins. Of course he'll be living with Sidney Crosby and his mate.

Crosby—call me Sid he'd said, backstage after Mack stumbled his way onstage and held up his jersey and smiled so hard his face hurt—sends him and his parents an email in late summer, offering up a suite in his house in one of Pittsburgh's suburbs. He'll have a bedroom, a bathroom, and a living area to himself, along with a small fridge, and Sid says he'll help Mack get a car, too, if he doesn't already have one.

Mack's agent is copied on the email, along with four names from the Penguins organization that Mack doesn't recognize. It's not really an offer, after all.

Mack's parents are overjoyed. They're both betas, and when Mack presented his mom had practically lost her mind trying to figure out how to parent him appropriately, and they'd both been desperately worried about him living on his own. As if that had been an option; every interview at the combine included some discussion about where he'd stay, and it seemed like every team had a plan, no input from Mack required.

His dad's more focused on what he'll get out of living with Hall of Famers. "Watch how they spend their time off," he says to Mack as they're standing at Pittsburgh International. They'd all driven down in Mack's new car together, and spent the last two days getting him settled in and seeing the sights, and now his parents are flying back to Vancouver. "You're never going to have a better example than Malkin and Crosby. Pay attention to them, and you'll be fine."

Mack's not sure that this is quite what his parents had in mind.

Sid's amazing, of course. He knows what it's like to be an omega in the league—for all there are more now than when Sid was drafted, they're still an extreme minority, and going first overall, over all the alphas eligible, has only happened twice. Well, three times now. He walks Mack through the accommodations at the rink, connects him with the dynamics counselors and heat coordinators, and he spends a lot of time just listening to Mack, sharing his own experiences and talking him through his panic and nerves. Mack's lucky, and all the guys from BU are jealous as hell, constantly blowing up the GC with questions that Mack's not gonna answer in a million years.

Geno, though?

Mack's been around alphas his whole life. Sports at a higher level are riddled with them, obviously, and omegas aren't cloistered away anymore—he's not required to cross the street if he approaches an alpha, and North America has been totally integrated for decades.

There's getting in board battles with alphas his own age, though, or interacting with random people out in the world, and living with an alpha in his 30s, in the space he's marked as his.

Geno's not nervous around him. Which, obviously, why would he be, but Mack's used to the guys his age being a little on edge, a little anxious, a little fumbling in the presence of Mack's pheromones. Geno's a whole-ass adult, though, and he's been mated to Sid for as long as Mack can remember, so of course he wouldn't give a shit about some 18-year-old kid.

The whole house smells like Geno, a mix of coconut and snow and citrus. It's comforting; Mack's never slept so well in his life, and it just feels safe, knowing that there's an alpha around all the time. Sid's left his mark too, of course, but there's no escaping that an alpha lives in this house, an alpha who's strong, and confident, and sure of himself.

It takes Mack two whole weeks before he can talk to Geno without turning bright red and stuttering. He'd feel more embarrassed by his behavior, the way he reacts to Geno's scent, if he thought Geno noticed for one single second.

Because the thing is, what Sidney Crosby and Evgeni Malkin seem to spend most of their off-hours doing is...each other.

Mack's never walked in on them—they're too thoughtful, and he's seen the way Geno stares down other alphas who look a little too closely at Sid, he's not interested in anyone seeing Sid that way—but he can smell them, all over the house. Geno's got a hand on Sid constantly; at his waist as they move around each other in the kitchen, on his legs when they sit on the couch, cupping the bond-bite on Sid's neck when they think they're alone. He smells like he wants Sid all the time.

And Sid absolutely reciprocates.

Mack can't blame him. If he had an alpha like that— He doesn't let himself go too far down that path, because he has to live with them, and he's too young anyway, he wants to focus on his career for a while, but there's something about how happy Sid looks, the way he teases Geno until they're both pink and smiling, the way he gets this look in his eye when he watches Geno putter around in the kitchen, that makes something in Mack's gut twinge with longing. He wants this, someday—a mate, a home, someone who makes him that happy.

He just wishes they'd do a bit more to hide when they're going off to fuck, though. Mack's cycle is still irregular, and being this close to a mated pair who are having sex practically every night—Mack is shocked they can still do it that much at their age—is gonna push him into early heat one of these days, and then he'll have to ask for a ride to the facilities, and Geno will know, Geno will smell it on him, and they'll both be so nice and understanding and go out of their way to assure him it's normal and make sure he has what he needs, and it will just be the worst, most mortifying thing that's ever happened to him.

Anyway, yeah. Mack's pretty sure his dad had something else in mind, when he was talking about what Mack could pick up from living with Crosby and Malkin.

It's going to be a long year.

[beatingdrumspouringwine]

Dionysos Loves His Mom(s), a very long essay

Going to just preface this by saying that I may/may not have gone a bit overboard, but I hope everyone enjoys reading my rambles on how amazing it is that we still have this message even through to day, how important this is for our understanding of Dionysos, and also just a little bit of (what I hope will come across as) Semele appreciation :) Also, I did write this during finals week, so if it seems rambly, please bear with me ;-;

And for clarification, I'll be referring to Semele with capitalized pronouns because even though She was human, mythologically, while carrying Dionysos, She was also deified by Him after He brought Her up from the Underworld.

The first interesting thing is that we get our description of Dionysos, as well as the love he shows for His Mother, in Greek mythology. While myths are usually pretty good resources for understanding the Gods, they are also usually written by the people who are in power at the time - which would be specifically older men who were not slaves. Because of this, a lot of myths tend to trend towards the "male" perspective of the Athenians. Also because of this, women are frequently represented in a very negative light, or at least as being relatively unimportant.

There are no Gods who have quite a relationship with Their Mothers like Dionysos has of His. Some of the Gods technically have no mother, like Aphrodite and Athena, and others just... don't seem to have much of a relationship at all. And this isn't necessarily to say that the Gods that we worship don't love Their Mothers, but more that the popular attitude of Greek society was simply to push women off to the side, and let the men take the glory.

And then, strangely, we have Dionysos, He Who Takes No Shit When It Comes to Women, as well as Him Who Has Two Moms. He's already something of an anti-Athena in Greek mythology, for while She was born of Zeus's head, and Metis was a sort of mother-base, Dionysos was born of two mothers, and from Zeus, in a way that echoes an intimate, "maternal" sort of birth, instead of the detached birth of Athena. And we know full well that Dionysos did not forget about either of His first two mothers. Persephone and Him famously get along well enough that they shared a rite in the form of the Eleusinian Mysteries, and it is to Persephone that initiates go, telling Her that the Bakkhic One Himself has freed us!

And we haven't even touched on Semele! It's one thing to have a divine Mother to welcome us to the afterlife. It's another thing to have a once-human-become-Goddess Mother in the form of Semele-Thyone. And Dionysos loves Her as well, very much so as well! Even though He never met Her as a child, He still very clearly has a lot of love for Her. At the start of the Bacchae, when Dionysos first arrives in Thebes, you will notice that one of the very first things He mentions in His monologue is that His mother is being disrespected by King Pentheus, and that this disrespect is part of the reason why He has driven the women of the city mad, as well as the sisters of Semele, who also were disrespecting Her.

This loyalty is only further emphasized by the fact that even though Semele is dead at the time of the Bacchae (and obviously after it as well, as the myth of Dionysos traveling to the underworld is an entirely separate story). And yet we must once again emphasize that this was written in a time where mothers were so often thrown under the bus (or horse-drawn chariot), and all of these myths were notably written by men, as far as we know. It seems that there is an inherent thread which ties Dionysos to the world of women, or at least has Him incredibly sympathetic to it, and one which could not be broken with all of the hyper-patriarchal nonsense that was woven deep into the cultural fabric of ancient Greece, especially Athens.

And to finish this fun little rant off, I want to offer two significantly longer ideas than the initial thing that I wrote! One for reflection on how we relate to Dionysos (and how He relates to us), and another as a reflection on Semele-Thyone and how She relates to us, and how we should relate to Her.

To start, this sympathy that Dionysos shows with women does, in some ways, hits culturally closer to a sisterhood than to the way that a man would have been encouraged to act towards women in ancient Greece. Dionysos as God understands His band of madwomen's own self-worth, and does not question their autonomy. Instead, he seems to encourage it, especially with all of the sassing he gives Pentheus while being grilled by him. This is such a good thing for all of us. Not only is Dionysos a friend of humanity, but He is specifically a friend for the marginalized. Whoever finds themselves marginalized in society will be His "favorites", so to speak, because that is where He truly finds His followers. It's almost as if He naturally finds where there is a power imbalance, and jumps on the other side to even things out, even if it is a little bit. I also think that this same "purposeful marginalization" is something which adds further theological credence to Dionysos being also validly a trans woman and nonbinary, as He does not sit within a patriarchal "Him"-ness, but rather within a "Him"-ness that refers to a more equal world.

Moving on to Semele-Thyone, we have a wonderful ally in a divine woman, sympathetic to humans, who knows full well not only the sufferings of humanity, and the pain in disrespect, but also the importance of kindness and respect towards others. In Greek mythological and religious canon, Semele-Thyone became the Goddess of the Bacchic revel, which, if you really think about it, isn't just about the Bacchic revel (it's never "just about the Bacchic revels"). This also tells us that Thyone, like Her Son, is also a God of the marginalized. Like Dionysos, She oversees the safety and wellbeing of the community which Her Son has founded. In some way, Thyone has become a Mom to all of us, through Her assistance with the divine inspiration that strikes frenzied devotees. It's a caring thing, too!

Anyways, the long and short of this is - Dionysos loves His Mom, Semele-Thyone is an incredibly underrated Goddess, and Mother's Day was yesterday. So hug your mom if you've got a good relationship with her, and if not, we can all borrow Dionysos' Mom :)

[ghoul-slime]

Parallel

Rating: Explicit

Word Count: 1,542

Pairing: Aether/Dew, Swiss/Rain

Tags: Voyeurism, exhibitionism, morning sex, anal fingering, anal sex, dirty talk, implied polyghouls

Summary: Just as Aether tries bargaining with Dew again, a muffled sound from the bunk below catches his attention.

A whine, pitched high and feminine. Unmistakable in the early morning quiet of the bus. Another whine, louder this time, has Dew’s eye cracking open. He’s fully alert now. He glances at Aether who stares back at Dew, brow quirked.

“Sounds like Swiss and Rain are already up,” Aether observes. That gets Dew’s attention. Aether can feel his pulse quicken beneath his hands. They both go silent. Listening.

or read on Tumblr here:

Aether wakes first, the rhythmic rumbling of bus tires on pavement and soft morning light spilling through the edges of the bunk curtain reminding him that they’re still out on the road. Dew is tucked into his side, wedged between Aether’s body and the wall of the bus, head snuggled into Aether’s shoulder and breathing softly. Aether checks his phone, they have just about an hour until the bus arrives at the next venue. They’d driven through the night and Aether’s body is tired, bones sore from so many days crammed into a tiny tour bus bunk. Dew has long abandoned his own bunk in favor of curling up with Aether, and despite the cramped conditions, he doesn’t mind. Aether loves waking up with Dew in his arms every morning.

As much as he’d like to lay in bed and revel in Dew’s peaceful, sleeping form, he knows that once they arrive at the venue it’s gonna be all hands on deck. Hauling gear, moving into dressing rooms, and getting ready for sound check. With a groan he curls in on Dew, kissing the top of his head and gently rocking the little ghoul awake.

Dew groans, scrunches up his nose, and buries his face further into Aether’s side.

“C’mon Dew, time to get up,” Aether murmurs into Dew’s hair, blond locks scooped up into a messy bun high on his head. Getting to enjoy Dew’s bedhead was just another reason Aether couldn’t complain about the little ghoul taking over half of his bunk every night. He kisses the top of Dew’s head again and breathes in Dew’s warm scent.

“Ugh,” Dew croaks into Aether’s shoulder. “You gotta be fucking kidding me,” he whines, gripping Aether’s shirt and rubbing his face into his broad chest. Dew sounds as exhausted as Aether feels.

“C’mon Dew, get up and I’ll make coffee,” Aether tries again, unable to mask the tired sound of his own voice. “One more show and we’re off tomorrow. We can sleep in late in a nice big hotel bed.” Aether wraps his arms around Dew’s middle and tries to sound convincing, peppering his face with more kisses in an attempt to rouse the little ghoul who only grumbles further into his chest.

Just as Aether tries bargaining with Dew again, a muffled sound from the bunk below catches his attention.

A whine, pitched high and feminine. Unmistakable in the early morning quiet of the bus. Another whine, louder this time, has Dew’s eye cracking open. He’s fully alert now. He glances at Aether who stares back at Dew, brow quirked.

“Sounds like Swiss and Rain are already up,” Aether observes, a smile breaking out across his face. That gets Dew’s attention. Aether can feel his pulse quicken beneath his hands. They both go silent. Listening.

Ohhh, Rain whispers. Followed by a series of hushed little whimpers and gasps. Rustling sheets. The unmistakable wet sound of sex with a water ghoul. Whether Swiss is using his mouth or his cock to wring the sweet little sounds of pleasure from Rain’s lips is anyone’s guess. Aether feels Dew start to go hard against his thigh and he tightens his grip on Dew’s waist as they listen.

Murmuring, low and deep, they can’t make out the words but it’s undoubtedly Swiss. Suddenly a sharp cry from Rain, followed by hushed giggles and shushing. And then the sound of wet, open-mouthed kisses, Rain’s soft cries muffled by Swiss’ lips.

Aether’s hard now, and he rolls over on top of Dew, caging him in beneath him between his arms. He dips down to kiss Dew and pulls back with a mischievous smirk on his face.

“Bet I can get you off and into the kitchen with a hot cup of coffee in your hand before they even finish,” Aether grins.

Dew, ever competitive, especially when it comes to Swiss and Rain, flashes Aether a matching smirk. “Fuck yes,” he grins, no longer interested in trying to sleep in. They both know they’re gonna catch shit from everyone else for fucking on the bus, but they don’t care. Swiss and Rain started it, really.

Aether immediately shoves his hand into Dew’s briefs, cupping his chubbed up cock, and dives in for another open-mouthed kiss until he’s pulling the same soft sounds from Dew that match the ones drifting up from the bottom bunk.

He jacks Dew off inside his underwear while mouthing at his neck, breathing into Dew’s ear as they listen to the muted sounds of Rain’s moans and whimpers beneath them.

“How do you think Swiss is fucking him?” Aether whispers into Dew’s ear. “Fingers? Has he got that big dick of his buried in Rain’s tight ass? Or maybe he’s using his mouth,” Aether ponders.

“That would explain why Swiss is so quiet down there,” Dew snickers, canting his hips up, rutting into Aether’s warm hand.

Aether huffs a quiet laugh into Dew’s ear and twists his wrist, palming the wet head of Dew’s cock while he strokes him.

Dew lets loose with a moan of his own, before Aether claps a hand over his mouth, stifling a laugh and shushing him. His hand stills on Dew’s cock as they stop to listen. Rain has gone quiet, and Aether is sure Rain and Swiss know what he and Dew are up to now. They hear mumbling again, it’s Swiss, followed by more rustling sheets and one of Rain’s high pitched squeaks, louder this time.

Aether rears back to slip Dew’s underwear off, discarding them in a ball in the corner of the bunk before diving back in, sliding two fingers through the slick of Dew’s ass.

“Mmm, wet already,” he teases, pressing the tip of his finger in. “Bet Rainy is dripping here too. He takes Swiss so well doesn’t he? Our pretty little water ghoul.”

Dew nods and bites his lip, stifling a weak groan as he wraps his legs around Aether’s middle, encouraging him to dip two fingers past the tight ring of muscle and into his hot little body. Aether fingers Dew like that, sharing quiet breaths as they listen in for the sounds of Swiss taking Rain apart beneath them.

Rain’s muffled moans are steady now, and if Aether strains his ears he can hear Swiss’ quiet panting as he works Rain over. The wet sounds of Rain’s body opening up for him.

Aether pulls his fingers out, grabs Dew’s narrow little hips and flips him over, pressing him face-first and flat down into the mattress of the bunk. He grips Dew’s ass with both hands and pulls him open, spitting a gob of saliva directly onto his twitching, fluttering hole. Dew groans into the pillow beneath him and arches his back. Aether pulls himself out of his boxers, lines up and slides his cock through the slippery mess between Dew’s cheeks. As he pushes in he leans in to growl into Dew’s ear.

“Can you hear it? Swiss splitting our sweet little Rain open on his big, fat cock? Making him sing such pretty sounds for us?” He licks into the shell of Dew’s ear, “Do you think they can hear us too? The sound of your tight little ass swallowing me up?”

Dew nods dumbly, head still pressed into the pillow and presses back as Aether bottoms out and starts thrusting into him. The wet sounds from Aether’s bunk mixing in with those drifting in from the bunk below have Dew’s head swimming and before long he’s humping his cock into the bunched up sheets beneath him.

Aether presses him down with his entire body, nuzzling into the little tendrils of golden hair at the nape of Dew’s neck, pulled loose from the bun on his head. “Listen to them” Aether whispers, “I bet Rainy is gonna cum soon, cream himself all over Swiss’ bunk.”

Dew lets out a small groan, desperately trying to keep quiet while Aether fucks in and out of him. Aether knows he’s concentrating, holding his breath and straining to listen for the sounds of Rain’s orgasm.

And they can hear it, the telltale little mantra of yesyesyes that Rain always repeats when he’s close, moments away from cumming thick and soaking and heavy. Swiss is goading him on, voice low and rumbling, barely audible as he croons, That’s right baby, cum for me, soak my fuckin’ sheets.

Aether fucks Dew through Rain’s orgasm, pinning his skinny little hips to the bed and grinding in deep as they listen to Rain’s ragged panting.

There’s less than 10 minutes before the bus pulls up at the venue when Aether and Dew emerge from the bunk. Dew wobbles in on shaky legs, messy hair falling out of the bun on his head. He follows behind a sheepish looking Aether, whose neck is covered in fresh bite marks and bruises.

Rain is tucked into Swiss’ side at the kitchen table, Swiss’ arm slung around his shoulder. Rain glances up at Aether with a small smile, light blush across his pretty face, blue eyes sparkling in the morning sunlight.

“So…” Swiss breaks the silence, sly grin snaking its way across his face. “You two nasty fuckers interested in sharing a room with us at the hotel tonight?”

[waklman]

TEAM TRIPS WAHHHH those late night bus rides where everyone is quietly content for the day, saving a spot for you to sit next to him, sharing earbuds and falling asleep on his shoulder as the bus lights dim..... this is so not specifically personal to me or anything........... i think this series might kill me

ok i just needed to write a drabble for this bc this is so cute. i accidentally left out the headphone sharing part but..

“What the hell are you doing?” From the corner of his eye, Jake catches your twitching hand making its way onto his thigh. 

The dimmer it got outside, the closer you’ve been scooting over the line separating your seats—and the closer your hand has been inching towards his own. If it was Bradley doing this, Jake would tell him to shove off and go sit with the coach’s daughter. But three hours into the drive to the hotel, he’d already done that. 

And if he were to push you away, that would only add on to his teammates’ ongoing joke that he only makes you unhappy when he’s near you. 

She looks like she’s about to shit herself when she sees you. Notice how she stops smiling when she sees your ugly frown. Seresin the smile stealer. 

Finally, the shock registers in your brain that your pinky is on his leg. On the leg of the guy you had a pathetic crush on, to the point that you’d been trying to simmer your laughter around him, because you overheard him complain that Bradshaw’s laughter was the worst thing he’s ever heard.

Mortified, you jolt a safe three inches away from him, maintaining the original gap left between you two. “‘M sorry. I just—I’m scared of the dark. And the bus driver…shut off the aisle lights,” you meekly explain, embarrassment pumping your unsteady heartbeat. 

Then it’s quiet again as you drill your eyes into the headrest of the seat in front of you. The only sound that catches your ear is a calm blend of everyone’s soft snoring around you and a faint rustling from your new seat partner.

Suddenly, the side of Jake’s thigh is pressed against yours again, blanketing the left side of your body in a strangely comforting warmth that diffuses through you. Because he—because Jake Seresin moved closer to you.

Jake Seresin. Closer. To. You.

Eyes stretched like saucers, you snap your head in his direction but he’s already steered his attention to look out the window.

“I just asked what you were doing. I didn’t tell you to move,” he says plainly, extending his arm to grab your hand.

“If you were scared, you coulda’ just said so,” he whispers through pursed lips, moving your entwined hands into his lap. 

All you can do is stare at him in awe, appreciation knocking over the back of your head like a wave. This was the same Jake Seresin that hated the way other people’s skin felt on his. This was the same Jake Seresin that you fought the urge to smile around because you liked him so much.

At that, you’re driven to snuggle into his side—and oddly enough, he lets you.

And maybe it’s just your blissful imagination, but you feel him stroke your knuckles with his large thumb when you press a cheek to his chest.

“I knew you were nice,” you finally giggle, forgetting your self-reminders to not do that.

Lifting your head against his team hoodie, your eyes glitter when you catch the corner of his lips twitch into a smile.

“Took you that long to figure it out, Giggles? Maybe if you weren’t frowning so much I’d get a chance to ask you out.”

Jake tilts his head to look at the fluster on your face, biting his lip to stifle his amusement. 

“Yes—I yes. If you’re asking me out, yes,” you blurt, a little too loudly. 

Jake nods at you in confirmation, letting himself finally smile at you. 

Embarrassed, you clear your throat, face hot at the sudden realization that you didn’t have to try so hard to make him like you this whole time.

“Can I….hang out with you tonight? When we get to the hotel? Bradley keeps comin’ into the girl’s room because—” You cut yourself off with a yawn, stirred by a sudden spell of sleepiness from how warm Jake is.

“Mm, I dunno,” he pretends to mull over the idea, not caring enough to lower his voice for the sake of his snoring team. 

“If you wanna hang with me all night, you gotta sleep baby,” he offers, grinning when he feels you squeeze his hand at the pet name.

“I–I can sleep. I’ll sleep right now,” you quickly answer, scrambling in your seat to pull closer to him.

At this point, the interior of the bus is coated in noticeable darkness because the sun had just set. Though, you barely notice it—as your fear of the dark recedes to the back of your mind.

You're fully focused on the fact that Jake lets you cuddle him for the rest of the ride.