#transit and driving has been hell

[thedyker]

blonde plague in toronto is finally ending tomorrow thank fuck.

[thebindingofdragonshy]

new existential dread: all of your friends (except for one) are suddenly moving out and everybody either lives too far away (another state/country) or already has their own plans on roommates and you are freaking out because you love your parents and they're great but you can't live with them literally forever but how the hell are you supposed to ever ever ever move out and afford rent ON YOUR OWN in this economy and the ONE FRIEND who isn't suddenly moving out/already moved out and on without you, you don't think is like ever going to move out and also they're so so soooo fucking stupid when it comes to their spending habits so you absolutely do not trust to live with them I mean he's never even had a *job* before and he regularly *impulse spends* 300-400 dollars on board games and now you're suddenly freaking out because you went from not even thinking about it because it doesn't matter to WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU EVER GOING TO DO IN THE FUTURE ALL YOUR OPTIONS ARE GONE FROM UNDER YOUR FEET BECAUSE YOU DIDN'T THINK TO FUCKING PRE-CLAIM PEOPLE AS YOUR ROOMMATES BACK WHEN YOU WERE *STILL IN HIGH SCHOOL* AND OH YEAH YOUR ONE FRIEND WHO YOU THOUGHT WAS UNPLANNED WHO IS BOTH CLOSE ENOUGH TO BE VIABLE AND SOMEBODY YOU COULD ACTUALLY STAND LIVING WITH ACTUALLY PSYCHE THEY'RE MOVING OUT *LITERALLY NEXT WEEK* LIKE THE DAY AFTER THEY TURN 18 NOT EVEN BECAUSE OF THEIR PARENTS BUT BECAUSE OF THEIR SIBLINGS AND THEY'RE GOING WITH *FOUR OTHER PEOPLE* SO YOU'RE SHIT OUT OF LUCK YOU'RE ALL ON YOUR OWN AND NOW YOU'RE PANICKING EVEN THOUGH IT'S STILL A FUTURE PROBLEM BECAUSE AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA

[sufrimientilia]

characters on the run

always so tired. driving for hours and hours in whatever shitty beater they find or steal, downing caffeine and too many five-hour energy shots pickpocketed from some gas station

sleeping cramped up in some bus or train seat, slumped over in a transit terminal, hoodie pulled up tight in the hopes of not being recognized

nodding off but jerking awake every single time, exhausted but hardwired to be paranoid even with caretaker's gentle touch and quiet reassurances trying to get them to rest

so much time spent running or fighting they eventually just crash. stoic characters slumped and snoozing, trying to keep watch and instead getting some much needed rest

lurching awake in a cold sweat, gasping and trembling, bandages wrapped tight up and down their torso

"we're safe here. i promise."

"it's okay-- it was just a dream, i didn't hear anything..."

shot or stabbed while trying to lose a chase. limping through crowds, desperately acting causal, traces of blood left on everything they touch

collapsing and drawing a scene, strangers asking questions and touching all over. having to slip away from concerned bystanders before actual help (or trouble) arrives

washing off in some shitty public bathroom and leaving behind a horror show of bloodied paper towels and smeared fingers all over porcelain, too out of it and in a rush to actually bother cleaning up

character bleeding out and semiconscious and caretaker doesn't know what to do, has nowhere to go. desperately trying to drag them along as the threat gets closer and closer, or hiding and waiting and begging for them to wake up

when it's too dangerous to go to a hospital. makeshift first aid in the back of some car, breaking into a vet clinic after hours, slumped over in a dank alleyway or dirty bathroom. shaking fingers and dim lighting and nowhere comfortable to recover

all of the places to lie low are sketchy as hell. trap houses, back rooms, dive bars, strip clubs, late night joints where passing acquaintances are somehow okay with shady strangers crashing on their couch. always surrounded by a bad crowd and caught up in seedy shit

wearing the same clothes which get increasingly fucked up. fabric lost to makeshift bandages or tourniquets, blood stains and sweat, the same hoodie passed between characters getting worn and sentimental

long sleeves, oversized clothes, shitty makeup, hoods and sunglasses and hats, anything to hide their identity and all of the bruises and cuts

barely any money to their name. having to choose between filling up on gas or eating, counting remnants of change, stealing food or dine and dashing out of necessity. barely scrapping by and working any job on the low, just oh so easy to take advantage of

getting sick, but it's not like they get a break from running. feverishly wandering around, catching concerned looks from strangers, never getting the chance to rest properly so they just get worse and worse

getting so desperate they eventually call for help. trembling and hunched over in a phone booth, nervously knocking on caretaker's door, so rundown and pitiful of course they wouldn't be turned away, where the fuck have they been?

[tevaselmundogiraalreves]

BUDDIE FIC RECS PART 2

Okay heres more fics cause ive been reading so so much lately, i cannot and will not be stopped. Heres the first list. I will most prob keep on making lists cause i honestly cannot stop reading. Once again, in no particular order:

Songbird by @colonoscopys - Goes first cause i just finished reading this one. FREAK EDDIE IS MY PASION. I said it already but at one point eddie eats bucks hair. Its awesome! FreakxFreak DumbxDumb

a bleeding sun on a silver screen by @hoediaz EVERYONE ALREADY READ THIS ONE RIGHT? IF NOT WTF ARE YOU EVEN DOING GO! ACTORS AU YOU WILL NE FAMOUS FOREVER.

chess inside my chest by @buick118 - HELLOOOO THIS ONE FIXED SOMETHING INSIDE MY CHEST "heart clipped in the backseat with his headphones already secured over his ears." I NEED AN EXPLANATION FOR THIS WRITING ❤️‍🩹

Two, Three Times in a Row by leslie_knope i honestly have no words for how much i love this fic, i reread it all the time, like ive reread it so much its embarrasing. Some of the best smut ive read.

wanna do a bad thing twice by @coldbam BUCK IS SUCH A FREAK GOD HE IS SUCH A FREAK

(You know what actually there are 2 more fics were buck is the freakiest hes ever been so ill put them right below ⬇️)

slow motion, double vision in rose blush by @saryasy Eddie Diaz. His friend. His Eddie. Has kissed a man. Which is strange because Buck is sure as hell he'd remember kissing Eddie.

Me at Buck: FREAAAAAAAAK

Also special mention to that flashback WOW!

i can tell just what you want (you don't want to be alone) by @tallsinspace Buck loses it every single time this is so awesome, it was so FUN reading INFIDELEDDIE this hiatus 🫶🏽

songs and poems and promises by @lesbianrobin buck summer of disatisfaction turns around thanks to eddie god they are so in love! Also special mention to chim well and maddie lets fucking goooooo

we keep this love in a photograph by @burnthatbridge its just so so freaking beautiful. Buck chooses eddies pics for his dating app after he comes out...

the tortured poets department by @colonoscopys once again the kind of fic that you wanna reread again and again.

"The first time Buck touched him, Eddie blew an ambulance up."

still sitting in a corner i haunt by @cal-daisies-and-briars i just love this one so much, should reread it, trust me its worth it.

we're not in love (but the sex is good) by elless. Idk i loved this one. Buddie are not even friends they just want the benefits as soon as they meet. The transition from that to them actually getting to know each other so naturally and start caring about each other is so beautiful.

in the passenger seat by @livingincolorsagain Evan Buckley was put on God’s green earth to drive Eddie Diaz around.

Just BEAUTIFUL.

tying you to me by @hoediaz ONCE AGAIN PERFECT TYPE OF WRITING. Buddie meet each other after 5x11. SO ORIGINAL GOD.

the soft animal of your body by @hattalove . This is a coda to another fic but can be read on its own. Just beautiful beautiful love making. I think i commented that i felt like they were making love with the words they were saying to each other just sitting on the kitchen table talking.

we could follow the sparks, i’ll drive by @markofalover bucks kink should be people calling him mr. diaz and thinking hes eddies husband.

Wait for me there by @kitkatpancakestack Childhood friends reunite after 8 years. I just really really loved this one. Those flashbacks to the past are so beautiful.

wanna be your endgame by literalmetaphor gotta be honest dont see this happening in canon at all cause the second eddie confesses buck would go down on his knees lets be honest. BUT this was so great! I loved it.

Pivot Tables by rainbowninja167 Does it show that i love reading buddie being so freaky and so kinky. Ill just say this: educational sex. Buck brings on the clipboard. Obsessed with this one.

I Broke What You Gave Me, But You Kept Giving More by rcdwings. memory loss buck cant remember his husband. Listen im not always a fun of memory loss fics but i loved this one i loved the twist.

there's a word for it, I'm sure by @ithilien-writes i have to reread this one asap cause i loved it so so much they are just so in love with each other but cant admit it so they just start having sex about it. And god they love esch other.

i could give you fifty reasons by @marviless buck FLIRTS with eddie cause he just want ti help. God this one was so much fun. I remember laughing out loud. I gotta reread.

beating the horse by @doitbuckley Eddie is moving to Texas. Buck finally figures out what he wants. Perfect read to the end of 8a.

In the Back Seat, Windows Up by @semperama SEX IN THE BACKSIT OF THE TRUCK LETSFUCKINGGOOOOOO

Play Me For Keeps by @semperama this one made me feel so MANY things in less than 1k words I WAS WONDERSTRUCK HONESTLY SMILING FROM EAR TO EAR

would you lie with me and just forget the world by @colonoscopys reread this one recently GODDDDD if you havent just go read it right now!!! Childhood friends to lovers for the win always.

your beauty (not just a mask) by @aashiqeddiediaz these next two fics GOD well i have a thing for mirrors and sex in front of mirrors apparently so... this i top tier for me. This one is the shorter one in front of the bathroom mirror 100/10 no notes.

my mirror (staring back at me) by @aashiqeddiediaz this one is longer. Mirror in the bedroom......... Eddie notices bucks insecurities and well he does smth about it ❤️‍🔥 such a fave of mine. It has everything!!!

Dreaming of a White Christmas by rosebuddiekin . Oh boy!!!... just gonna leave the blurb here cause no words could ever be enough: "Buck accepts a challenge to be edged in his and Eddie's own version of the 12 Days of Christmas and loses his mind a little more with each one." (Btw if someone knows the author please lmk. They put a link to their tumblr on ao3 but it doesnt work for me.)

[girlgerard]

i’ve been thinking a lot about gerard’s character they developed in the last leg of this tour and the way i believe it really solidified what we might have coming for us in the future.

it’s really sweet, if you look in the comments of some of the videos from brisbane and osaka, you can see people who’ve obviously been my chem fans for at least 15 years saying things like ‘i’ve watched every video from this tour and this is the first show where i really saw the spark come back’ and ‘that’s the gerard way i remember’ and other cheesy shit like that. and the thing is they’re totally right!

this whole tour developed more fluidly in intensity and meaning than in any of their previous gigs. mcr has always been a band to change with their time and creative drive, but this was a different type of transition to me. you could see as characters started to be built, from gerard DIY’ing his own costumes in europe to increasingly meaningful outfits with whole backstories in the USA all the way to one consistent character with a uniquely terrifying stage presence in the last leg.

that last character, at least to me, is totally gripping. she’s unexplained, she’s scary as hell, she’s near-undead, she has this commanding presence gerard hasn’t really done since early-mid black parade. in every single performance they’re so in-character and it’s such a BLAST

importantly, this character also showed up in the shortest, least-publicized part of the tour. imo she wasn’t meant for cameras, really.

to me it’s so clear that she’s a result of gerard earnestly solidifying where they might want their next artistic endeavors to go - that kind of serious direction, maybe even that character specifically.

he’s talked about how he always has stage characters that reflect his music and, broadly, things they’re working through in their life. the revenge stage character was a mix of both demo lovers which can have a ton of different interpretations, the patient was a joan-esque personification of grief and existentialism, party poison was a pop-art way of dealing with your own artistic/literal death. it makes me wonder why this character, the only truly consistent character this whole tour, came about, and if it’s related to gerard’s nightly diatribes on war and later-tour statements on (presumably) queer/trans rights.

it also makes me think that we have a lot coming in the future. a character that solid and a direction so suddenly bottlenecked into such a specific concept, such a mychemicalromance concept, especially out of a tour that was originally supposed to be a casual celebration of music, i think points towards something new.

[wanderingcas]

[just a dumb little thing i wanted to write about Cas's bad moods being positively affected by dean's touch]

--

Dean scrubs a hand down his face and resists a loud sigh. Coffee. He needs coffee. Driving for eighteen hours straight isn’t good for anyone, but especially not for someone with a grumpy, newly ex-angel sitting shotgun. 

Cas, tucked in the crowded line by Dean’s side, is oscillating between his typical feelings of disgruntled and fascinated by his surroundings. Just by the look on his face, Dean knows what he wants to complain about: the stuffy, small cafe is too hot, the people are talking too loud, and the barista at the counter is more focused on chatting with her customers than actually ordering their food, and Dean, why do humans insist on small talk if they’ll never see each other again? Most of these people are traveling and are transient, what is the point of commenting on the weather if—

“Would you stop!” Dean snaps. Several heads turn toward them. Ducking his head, Dean mutters a curse. He’s been listening to Cas’s bitching on the road trip for so long that it’s starting to knock around his head. 

Cas frowns. “What’s wrong, Dean?”

“Nothing.” He pushes his shoulder into Cas’s. “Line’s movin’.” 

He’s exhausted. Which makes him feel all sorts of guilty, because whatever exhaustion he feels, Cas must feel it tenfold. Cas’s grace fully depleted only a few weeks ago and the transition has been… less than pleasant for all involved. For Cas, it means feeling human like he never has before. He described the sensations—touch, smell, emotion, temperature, you name it—like a thousand itches that he can’t quite scratch. It makes him a grumpier bastard than usual. 

Sam, as patient as he tried to be in the beginning, recently started losing his cool. Eileen had completely given up on the situation and wisely fucked off a few days into the whole process. When Claire called about the vamp nest she found in Nebraska, Dean couldn’t get in the car fast enough. 

Cas insisted on coming. Sam insisted on staying. And, well—that was that. 

Dean snags a glance at Cas next to him in the line. He’s squinting at the menu above the cashier. They found out he was near-sighted when he went full human, but he refuses to wear the prescription glasses Dean got him. 

“Want me to read it to you?” Dean asks.

“No,” Cas snaps. 

Grinding his back teeth, Dean huffs out a sigh. Which, of course, Cas hears. His frown deepens into a glare. 

Dean’s gonna hear about it later in the car. Something along the lines of I’m so sorry my weaknesses are an inconvenience to you, Dean. Would you be more lenient with me if I was still an angel and could fight your battles for you? And no I won’t wear the glasses because I’m a big angry baby in a trenchcoat that doesn’t have any fucking clue how to manage his own emotions and—

“What can I get you?” the barista asks sunnily. 

Dean slams his credit card on the counter. “Got any liquor?”

The barista’s smile goes a little crooked. “It’s eight in the morning.” 

“Just—a coffee. Big one,” Dean adds as she keys it into the computer. He turns to Cas. “What do you want?” 

Cas doesn’t answer; he’s looking off to the right, a frown on his face. But not his usual pissed-off frown. A curious one. 

Dean elbows him. “Dude.” 

Cas blinks, coming back to Earth, turning to the expectant barista. “Tea. Matcha, if you have it.” 

Dean regrets letting Sam introduce him to that one. Taking his credit card back from the barista, their bill paid, he and Cas step off to the side. Dean finally glances at whatever the hell was so interesting to capture Cas’s attention. 

Two women sit at a table, their eaten food just wrappers and crumby plates in front of them. Their hands are linked on the tabletop. Dean bristles; is Cas going to ask him why two women are holding hands? He can’t be that out of touch with humanity. But no; it’s something else. One woman is smiling, the other isn’t. Is that what caught Cas’s attention? 

Dean sighs through his nose, shaking his head at himself. Trying to figure out what’s going on in Cas’s head lately is like trying to solve a Rubik's cube. 

He feels a little tug at his jacket pocket. Dean paws Cas’s hand out of the way. “The hell are you doing?” 

“I need your phone,” Cas says.

“What for?”

“I want to see how much longer until our destination.” 

“You could just ask,” Dean shoots back. 

Cas frowns. He goes for Dean’s pocket again. 

“Jesus, fine,” Dean mutters, pulling the phone out of his pocket and unlocking it. He shoves it into Cas’s hands. (Cas had a phone, but he left it at a gas station a few hundred miles back. Dean’s not sure if he can fully blame Cas’s inattention to detail on being a human.)

Dean folds his arms over his chest and looks at the women again. They’ve stood up from the table, and the more upset-looking of the two has leaned against the other, who has her arms around her. 

Cas is looking up at the women again, the Google maps app open on the screen forgotten. 

“Large dark roast and matcha latte!” someone calls from the counter. 

Dean turns away from the women and Cas, scooping up their drinks. “Wanna drink ‘em in the car or here?” he asks. He hopes that Cas will choose the latter, because the thought of hurtling down the highway in an enclosed space again is making Dean’s stomach turn. 

Cas’s blue eyes turn to Dean. “Can we drink them outside?”

There’s a small bench next to the entrance door. They park themselves there and sip at their drinks as people filter in and out of the door. The two women come out a few minutes later and go into a blue Prius a few spots away from the Impala. 

“Somethin’ suspicious about them?” Dean asks. When Cas gives him a curious look, Dean juts his chin toward the women. “You’re lookin’ at ‘em a lot.” 

Cas shakes his head. “Nothing suspicious. Just… curiosity.” 

Dean clears his throat. Nods. “Well, Cas, in our society there occasionally comes a time where people feel romantic feelings toward each other, and they decide to express that through—”

“Not that,” Cas snaps. He rolls his eyes at Dean’s cheeky grin. “I’m trying to understand human behavior more. Since I’m… unfortunately part of your species, now.” 

“All right, Jane Goodall, so what’d you observe?” 

Cas takes a sip of his grassy drink. “The blonde woman was upset. The brunette woman comforted her through touch. And it seemed to work.” 

“Okay,” Dean says slowly, “and why is that weird?”

Cas turns his gaze to Dean. “You’re not comforted through touch. In fact, it makes you angrier.” 

Dean snorts, shifting uncomfortably. “I mean. It’s not like I just want people—touchin’ me all the time.” 

“Especially not when you’re upset,” Cas adds.

“Well, yeah. That’s a pretty common thing.” 

Cas shakes his head. “Not necessarily. When Sam is upset, Eileen hugs him. And that’s received well.” 

“Yeah, ‘cause they’re dating.” 

“So touch is only welcomed when one is upset when they’re romantically involved?” 

“Well.” Dean frowns at the steam rising from his coffee. “I mean, not always. Friends hug each other when one of them’s upset.” 

Cas cants his head to one side. “So the two women could have been friends?” 

“I’m betting not,” Dean snorts. “Friends don’t really hold hands. Not all the time.” 

“But sometimes?”

“Sure. Sometimes.” 

Cas nods, seeming to consider this. Dean takes a sip of coffee; then nearly spits it out again when a hand gently falls on top of his. He snatches his hand back and gapes at Cas’s innocent gaze. “What the hell, dude?”

“You said that friends sometimes hold hands.” 

“I mean—you don’t just—” Dean huffs out a frustrated sigh. “Hugging is more in the friendship zone.” 

A line appears between Cas’s eyebrows. “We only hug when one of us is about to die.” 

And—Jesus. Okay. Dean has to blink hard a few times to find his center again from that one. “Um, yeah, I guess we do.” 

“So if hugging is reserved only for mortal danger,” Cas continues, “and holding hands is too romantic—what else is there?”

Dean’s jaw works as he tries to figure out what to say. “I—you just—” He throws up a hand. “I don’t know, Cas! A pat on the shoulder? A friendly high five?” 

Cas’s expression drops a bit. He frowns down at his tea, crestfallen. 

Dean scrubs a hand down his face. Shit. The only thing worse than a grumpy ex-angel is a sad one. 

He glances around them. No one’s paying attention. The bench is by the door, but people are too focused on getting inside to eat, or making a beeline to their cars. Besides, he’s sitting so close to Cas on the bench, it won’t even be noticeable. 

Dean sighs. He holds out his hand, palm up. When Cas just stares at it, Dean moves it closer with a frustrated noise. That seems to make Cas get the picture; with a small smile, he takes Dean’s hand. He even laces their fingers together, which does not make Dean shiver and feel like his nerves are on fire. 

“Only for a minute,” Dean says gruffly. 

Cas nods. “Okay.” 

And they sit there, hands linked between them on the bench, as they finish their drinks.

--

[And no, dear reader, it does not last a minute. In fact, it becomes Dean's new superpower—hugging, holding, or letting Cas glomp onto him whenever Cas is even in a remotely bad mood. Sam and Eileen take notice, but don't comment, because Cas is finally a relaxed and happy human.]

[seat-safety-switch]

So much of our day is spent on time-wasting activities. You know it, and I know it. If I could have back all the time that I have used up, trying to find the tool that I just had in my hand, I would probably be able to have finished another couple of crappy cars by now. There's a whole cottage industry of variously-good-willed folks trying to tell you how to get this time back, but not a single one of them has a solution for the biggest waste of time of all: sitting in traffic.

That's right, traffic. We all hate it. Even fancy-dan city folks with functioning public transit still have to wait behind some dipshit clogging the escalator, or for the next train. It seems like we're always trying to get somewhere at the same time as everyone else, even if we've opted out of the rat race through a series of elaborate financial scams whose profits are funnelled through a Cayman Islands corporation.

I've tried a lot of solutions. Buying a four-by-four truck and just driving over curbs and through red lights when they oppose me. Buying a used firetruck, and cranking up the siren when I am getting bored of being in gridlock. Buying a little kei truck from Japan and sneaking into the gaps between lanes like Bangkok pizza deliveryfolx. Hell, I've probably even tried other ideas that don't involve a truck at all; that's how desperate things are getting around here.

For now, though, I'm learning to live with it. I realized, when I saw everyone else waiting at the stop light on their smartphones, that I could be using this time more productively. Don't take me for one of those one-eyed-touch-rectangle-fondlers, though. What I do is much simpler. My '79 Monte Carlo has a real big backseat, easily big enough for a baby bathtub or two. I pulled that seat right out, welded in a couple chunks of rebar, and I now have an engine stand ready whenever I want it. Will this light ever turn green? Don't care, because I can simply turn around in my bench seat and spend the time adjusting valves on this super-high-mileage propane Slant Six that I pulled out of the junkyard.

My cars have never been in better shape, and there's a bonus, too. Although it seriously irritates law enforcement to admit it, I am technically still "operating an automobile with my full attention" and cannot be considered to be driving distracted. Now if only I could stop dropping the inch-pound torque wrench when I'm merging onto the highway. This must be why all those fancy Japanese bullet trains have glass in their windows.

[veranavera]

PSA: most trans people on hormones don’t pass after a year. I think the prevalence of “passing at 11 months!!!” type stories has given a lot of people the impression that somewhere around there is when people start to look like what they want. And like yeah, some people do, and fucking great for them, but you don’t see nearly as many people talking about how they don’t pass at that point because a) people share those things online less often and b) those posts get less traction because they’re heavier

Me? I passed for the first time at 7 months. I passed for the second time at 19 months. That fucking sucked. I felt like I had been given exactly what I wanted and watched it get taken away from me, and the idea that I should be passing more regularly in the months following really ate away at me and made me feel like I “failed” in my transition - I legit thought that I would never pass

It certainly didn’t help that, in addition to overwhelmingly seeing narratives online of passing early in one’s transition, every piece of medical information that was presented to me said that most changes would happen over the first two years. Maybe I was deluding myself, but baby trans me thought “oh that means I have two years to transition or else I fail because hormones won’t do anything past that”. And that ate away at me more than the not passing, cause I felt like I was “missing my chance” at having the body I wanted

And boy was I wrong, in the last year (my third year on hormones), I feel like I’ve seen more changes than I saw in my first year. My boobs are filling themselves out, my body hair is getting even lighter, my skin is noticeably softer even though I stopped moisturizing/doing most of my previous skincare routine. Hell, even my hips and ass have gotten wider. And this was *all* during an era that the medical information I was presented with gave me the impression that any changes that did occur would be minor

To show you what I mean, compare one of my first trans-flag photos, taken at 11 months on e, verses a semi-recreation I did earlier today at 33 months on e (same clothes and roughly the same pose/lighting, different mountains)

Notice a difference? I sure do - and to prove to you that this happened in the third year, here's a similar photo of me in between these two at 23 months on e:

I’m usually not one for transition timelines, mainly because my whole project is kind of a transition timeline, and if you wanna look through and see more of what I'm taking about feel free to either scroll a few posts down on my blog, or check out my google drive with all the photos from my projects. The difference doesn't look *too* dramatic to me, but some people I know irl have expressed that it is

Regardless, the point I'm trying to make here is that my experience on hormones was *not* passing at one year - and that's the experience of the vast majority of people I know who've been on hormones. Puberty takes many years, and yeah, that can suck to hear when you're expecting it to take two, but trust me, it's a healthier mindset to think of yourself as continuously moving in the direction you want, rather than waiting to arrive at a particular destination

If you've started hormones in the last year, be sure to give your body the time it needs to make the changes you want - transitioning is a marathon, not a sprint

[glitter-stained]

Sense the current state of jason as character is stagnant do you think dc will ever purplish a good story of him, maybe he even kills of his red hood persona and goes on to be something else that would be something I would like to see but I don’t think it will happen. Dc will forever shoehorn him in to the batfamily. At least in his anti-villian era he was actually fun now his character is in a pitiful state

do u think theirs a chance of reinvent him as character anytime soon ?

Well first of all through spite everything is possible, so jot that down.

Like seriously, remember when it was so so incredibly over like Spiderman's Uncle Ben levels of over and then Under the Hood happened? Hell yeah I think dc will publish a good Jason story

Second I may not be the best person for this ask because I like my blorbos pitiful and miserable. Like yeah defiance is awesome but exhaustion -in characters who have been angry and alone for so long, beaten dog who got electrocuted too often to bite back- has a special place in my heart. But I also agree this has to be a transitional part of a story, the arc can't be "well he was hurt and then he was angry and then he was tired and he was miserable the whole time". Unless of course he ends up perma-dying in a really meaningful arc centered around his character but I'm not sure that'd be what I want for him, and we all know how lame dc is with permadeath nowadays. I'm also very mitigated with his villain side because yeah sometimes it's very fun and cathartic to see the angry/bad victim trope, but also the classismXpsychophobia of villain Red Hood sometimes are just too much; and also I'm a jaybin fan and sometimes I feel betrayed on jaybin's behalf by elements of his villainous characterization. (One day I'll write that damned UTH rewrite, I will).

With that being said!!! I love Jason because of his potential, he has so so much of it, that's what's exhausting about his many bad comics is that yeah. Yeah, dc can absolutely publish something more than good. They don't understand the goldmine they're sitting on in terms of potential.

What I'd love to see explored in hypothetical upcoming good comics (i'll talk more about it later with malfiora but for now)/how dc could go about reinventing his character :

1) addressing Jason's suicidality and getting him a functional support system (seriously, something's gotta give)

2) Get that boy a dog. Ik he had one at some point in N52 idc give him more dogs. Big ass rescue dog that's loyal and similar to him.

2) we need to figure out a way to let Jason keep being a Crime Alley/Park Row vigilant without being dependent on Batman. Like yeah he should explore the world away from him and heal but also i'm very uncomfortable with the idea that healing, for Jason, has to mean leaving the city and neighbourhood he grew up in and protected, has to mean be shoved out of his home by a guy who doesn't live there and, at least when Jason was a kid, only visited the place one time a year because of the anniversary of his parents' death- it's not fair and I won't accept it.

3) I so so agree about the "killing the red hood persona" or at the very least changing his vigilant name. Like I get the point, I understand the use he had for him, but his story can't be centered around the Joker forever (I keep thinking about the Joker's attitude to him in The Man who stopped Laughing and god, I can see a driving force to find himself as something else than what Batman and the Joker made him). At some point his name has to become something that is his and turned towards the future.

4) art + story that acknowledges how young he is (someone please let Jason take college class please please he deserves it)

5) perhaps most importantly: batman writers often sound like hardcore deontology or hardcore utilitarianism (and the occasional egoism) are the only acceptable moral philosophies. And for characters, it works! Like I can see Batman as a Kantian, sure. But for others, it doesn't fit as well.*

The cool thing about Jason's character right now is that he's a utilitarian, but a utilitarian that often isn't guided by his values. He can and will compromise on his philosophy in the name of love and being loved ( @bestangelofall called that a morality leash) and that already sets him as an interesting character in his own right. But in terms of redefining himself as a person after decades of defining himself through his pain (which, at 20-23 years old, he should get to do) I'd love to see an evolution of his morals based on love. Specifically, I'd love from his morals to shift from mathematical utilitarianism to agape, an ancient greek concept of platonic love for everything human, a movement towards the other that can be thought of as close to some conceptualisations of empathy. Mind you, that doesn't mean that he would stop killing! I can believe in a Jason who kills because or against of agape, the pain or relief that could be so good to explore in relation to that, how he would go on to define himself as a person... I feel like Jason has a certain tendency to kinda dehumanize the worst criminals as he kills them (a lesson from Judy, love her sm) which I love, but would also love to see him grow out of - learn to see and love everyone as human and what it means, a re-exploration of his empathy.

Imagine: a scene where he kills a guy because a kid victim begged him to. The focus on the image is on the kid's big wide tearstruck eyes, and then Jason's uncertain face, the kid begging him to kill the bad guy. And then Jason kills him and they're standing so close to eachother, and he's look him in the eyes and seeing the image of the kid's eyes, and then turning back to the kid while wiping the blood on his face and seeing the kid's wide eyes looking in disbelieving awe. And then kneeling and hugging the kid as he cries his heart out. And Jason's inner monologue during all that being something like "I could say that I killed him because I'm a bad guy; I probably am. Or argue the world is better off without scum like him; I could pretend I did it so he wouldn't hurt [x] again, or that I was thinking about all the other children he wouldn't be able to hurt anymore. But the truth is, I didn't. I killed him because [x] asked me to; because I could tell that he needed it. I can live with that."

Idk, that's the direction I would love to see it going, but simply "becoming even more open, louder and unapologetic about prioritising his love over his values, and being angry when it causes him dilemma" is something I'd love with as way. Very "Odysseus knows what he's going to choose the moment the gods tell him to throw the baby off the wall to see Penelope and Telemachus, but fuck if he's angry at the gods for making him make that choice" kind of vibe if you like Epic the musical.

*i'm not saying there aren't any characters in dc that fall out of this deontological/utilitarian false dilemma, it's just a vibe I get from batman writers at times, and as a consequence of specializing in one character I don't feel legitimate in exploring the intricacies of other characters because I feel like I'm lacking information and would be making uneducated guesses (that being said, I would fuck heavily with an exploration of Cass' morals VS Levinas' concept of ethics). If anybody has recommendations of dc characters that are neither utilitarian nor deontological (or are at least an interesting twist to it) I would love them so much please don't hesitate!!!

So yeah, idk if that answers your question, I don't pretend to know the intricate working of dc editorial. But imo there are wonderful possibilities for dc to reinvent Jason and write him into good comics -call me a blue lantern cause baby I got hope.

[anghraine]

I love living in Washington—I wasn't born here, but my family moved from Oregon when I was in elementary school and I lived in WA until I was nearly 20 and then moved back seven years ago. So a lot of my life has been spent here and what hasn't been spent here has been in Oregon (mostly) or California (two years of grad school).

Obviously I love the Pacific Northwest and I love the West Coast in general, but nothing reinforces this like seeing the reminder I sent to myself to sign up for health insurance, answering a handful of questions, getting immediately approved by the system and picking a plan, and promptly being informed that I now have health insurance with dental, vision, mental health, etc and that my ridiculously low adjunct hell wages means it costs *checks* $0 (even as autumn makes the PNW more beautiful than usual!).

I know it's a very US American problem to consider. But I grew up on the Canadian border, which meant that when my parents went bankrupt from my childhood medical expenses after I hit their insurance's lifetime cap when I was... like, 12, I was entirely aware that Things Don't Have To Be This Way because I had friends and family acquaintances with Canadian citizenship. And meanwhile I have relatives and friends on the US side who have to incorporate health care so much into calculations about what jobs to take, where to live, what the cost of living really is with a medical condition.

Another guy in my department and I were actually just talking the other day about figuring out possible jobs/cost of living calculations not just from reported numbers for a state or city, but about the importance of calculating cost of living for yourself specifically because of health expenses, difficulties of transportation, etc. Like, people talk a lot about how expensive California is and it definitely is, but for me that was significantly offset by the state paying all my medical expenses despite me not even having California residency. The Portland metro area is expensive, but it is entirely possible to never drive anywhere because of good public transit+walkability.

So anyway ... thanks, Washington State, that is a huge load off my shoulders and it makes voting against right-wing bullshit in WA a pleasure as well as a civic duty <3

[gatheringbones]

[“Later in the day, while Heather and I were making the bed and talking about the chores we needed to get through the next morning, she used a male pronoun in regard to me. “Well that’s gonna be weird, huh?” I said. “Not saying ‘he’ for me anymore.” “What do you mean?” she asked. “I mean I want to transition. I want to become a woman… fully.” She paused and fell silent. I think the revelation that I was a transsexual truly hit her in this moment. She slowly started to comprehend that this didn’t mean I’d simply be cross-dressing around the house. It started to hit me, too. I wanted to transition genders, and there was a lot more to that than just hormones and surgery. Neither of us fully understood what it meant yet, or where to start.

The next day Andrew and James met me at the studio to talk about plans around the album and the future of the band. Jordan came, too, as he was again filling in as our manager. Until then, I’d been telling them that I was writing a concept album about a transsexual prostitute—the metaphor behind the feeling of having whored myself out to a record label was thinly transparent since James, Andrew, and I were all processing our own post-traumatic stress disorder from the past couple years of music industry hell. Previously, I’d been able to sneak a few subtle metaphors about my dysphoria in here and there. But an album focused entirely on it? I didn’t know how to explain that, and the new songs were not sticking with the guys.

James could make out a few lyrics to the title track through his in-ear monitors: “You want them to see you like they see every other girl / But they just see a faggot.” “Hey, man,” he said between takes. “Are you saying ‘faggot’ on this song? It sounds like you’re saying it a lot. Are people gonna be cool with that?”

I realized that the reason the words weren’t connecting with them was that they didn’t have the context. So I came out with it. I didn’t mean to, I just wanted them to understand. I couldn’t hold back the momentum of the day before. Once the truth was spoken, it could be contained no longer.

“It’s about me, and how I’m a transsexual. This is something I’ve been dealing with for a long time,” I told them. Once I started explaining it, I couldn’t stop. It was like an out-of-body experience where I saw myself, but was powerless to hold back the flood of words. “I want to start living as a woman, and to be referred to as Laura. This is something I’ve thought about a lot and isn’t going away, so I might as well embrace it.”

No one knew what to say once I finally stopped rambling. The three of them just sat there in the studio control room, looking down at their feet or at whatever lit-up piece of audio equipment their eyes could find, focusing anywhere but on me. We’d had some heavy conversations over the years—emotional moments where we’d told each other off or outright quit the band—but nothing compared to this. Andrew’s usually warm smile was locked in since I started talking, and it looked like it was going to melt off his face. His skin flushed red, trying not to flinch. There was nothing any of them could say. I broke the silence by asking them to come smoke a joint with me. We got high standing in a circle in the open back doorway. “OK, well,” I said. “I guess that’s all we’ll do today. How about we try again tomorrow?”

We shared the most comically awkward group hug, a horrible mess of pats on the back and overly extended stiff arms. They left, and I locked the door behind them. Oh fuck, I thought. I called Heather and told her that I had just come out to them. It felt unreal to speak these secrets aloud, hearing myself verbalize thoughts that had only ever existed in my head.

The guys had an hour and a half back to Gainesville to think about all that had just been unloaded on them. James has since told me that as he sat there stoned on that long drive home, a lot of memories over the past 15 years suddenly started to make sense for him. My lyrics, my behavior on tour; one by one, he had tiny flashes of realization about me in this new light.”]

laura jane grace, from tranny: confessions of punk rock’s most infamous anarchist sellout, 2016

[jmdbjk]

All things Walmart, poo, ticks and inspiration...

Spoiler alert but to hell with it, I know y'all have watched it all already.

Things I cannot relate to and will never happen to me:

• Pushing my cart down the snack aisle at Walmart and running into Jungkook searching for Tostitos and a sponge.

• Going out to the mailbox to gather the day's junk mail and two guys on a Harley drive by and wave at me and me not know it was Jimin and Jungkook.

• Hiking through the forest and not realizing that guy way up ahead swatting at mosquitoes is Jimin.

• Enjoying my lobster mac & cheese at a restaurant and not know Jungkook is discreetly (not so discreetly) staring at my food trying to decide if he wants to order what I'm having.

I didn't have time today to spend on this like I wanted to and I feel like everyone has already talked about the finer points they're most interested in so I'm going to just drop a few things that made ME laugh, smile and cherish the fact they even started this thing, this show. Episode 3 will be here tomorrow night (for me) so I don't want to delay this anymore so I'll be brief for Ep. 2.

Saturday, July 15:

They left the campsite and Jungkook got to ride the motorcycle. Jimin said he looked like a proper American.

They stopped at a park and hiked a trail. Jimin fought mosquitoes. It was brutal. I've seen people worried about ticks. And snakes. Jimin pointed out a spider on a tree. Jungkook fantasized about alligators. Tick inspections occurred all around later on I hope.

We didn't see the transition from woods to marina. Maybe they had to make a bathroom stop for Jimin. Or urgent care to get him some meds. Who knows. Poor thing was suffering.

On the yacht, Jimin was still feeling puny but he tried. He ate though he knew he was risking it all.

He horsed around with Jungkook with the beast still rolling around in his guts.

I really wasn't expecting so much poop talk during Are You Sure but here we are.

I think this summed up the yacht trip. Especially after how it all started with the excursion being leaked by the boat captain himself. Perhaps the editors did this on purpose.

FYI those concentric ripples in the images are my camera trying to capture the screen in a different frequency than the monitor refreshes or some tech mumbo jumbo. Apologies and please ignore. It's Disney's fault for not letting us screen cap using an app.

I think Jungkook was looking for ticks. He would take something like that seriously, don't you think?

But Jimin mostly slept on the yacht. He had a rough night before. They still salvaged what they could and they still seemed to enjoy the experience.

A trip to Walmart. On the way they have one of those rambling conversations where Jungkook, who is not the most talkative type, decides to talk Jimin's ear off. They talked about making music and what drives them personally in their choices about their work.

We'll visit that thought again in a minute....

The whole Walmart visit is surreal to me. I go to Walmart at least once a week so to see Jimin and Jungkook browsing the aisles just blows my mind. NEVER did I EVER dream I'd see them looking for bacon at WALMART.

They look just like anyone else pushing their shopping cart going down the cereal aisle past the boxes of Cinnamon Toast Crunch and Sugar Pops.

Jimin was a tad testy when JK disappeared. He even cussed him out. HAHAHAHAHAAA. BEEN THERE DONE THAT!!!

I know Jimin-ssi, why are men like that? I swear to god...

I saw someone say this sums up their dynamic perfectly: Jimin calculating in his mind how to work the self-check out while Jungkook does the helicopter cam above him.

You gotta give it to Walmart though, they do know their customer. The self check out is pretty self-explanatory.

The content of their cart:

TWO boxes of Twinkies???? And both Prego AND Ragu...

Getting to the AirBnb accommodations. Cooking. Chilling out before bedtime and Jimin lets Jungkook hear Who.

Horsing around in bed. You know, all these years, I've wondered how they keep the toothpaste spit inside their mouths while brushing their teeth? We've seen them brushing their teeth backstage, in the bathroom, walking around the green room, outside practicing choreo... HOW DO THEY NOT DROOL ALL OVER THEIR CUSTOM MADE OUTFITS? And now wrestling on the bed...

Waking up, JK and his frosted flakes. Jokes about abandoning Jimin...more horsing around on the bed. And then they doze off again. I know they did. Hard to tell but Jungkook is glued to Jimin's back.

Jimin gets to ride on the back of the Harley with JK. It starts to rain. I guess they were bringing it back to the rental place.

Going back to the store for a sponge.

I think Jimin was feeling much better. Looked like he slept better.

We see the Army who said they met Jimin and Jungkook last year. When I first heard about it I thought how lucky and random and what kind of stars need to align for that to happen??? What a great experience!!! When will it be our turn???

And then the next idea for Run BTS (the show)... hide and seek while shopping for specific ingredients to cook with and the twist is they're in a foreign country. WORLD TOUR RUN BTS!!! BIGHIT I HAVE IDEAS!!!! LISTEN TO ME!!!!

Its raining, dancing in the rain as they exit the store. They leave in the Jeep and head back to the house to eat their pizza.

Army in Connecticut won in life.

Then they start their journey back to NYC (I'm assuming) so Jungkook can go on to London and Jimin can head back to Korea. They stop one more time for lobster rolls and lobster mac & cheese.

That's when we see Jungkook contradict himself...

In the Jeep just a little while ago you said nothing inspired you. Was it the rain or the beer that was inspiring you? Or was it the head full of new memories and ideas about the next trip that were swirling around in there?

By the end of this trip, they are back in sync.

Their closing interview: JK wants to keep doing this until they're 50, 12 more seasons! JK said "practice being better variety show entertainers so the two of us can continue doing this" as motivation to continue doing this type of thing way into the future. Jimin found humor in that. And that's where we fade to black.

And during the credits, Jimin is eating again, spicy ramen, possibly the next day. Apparently his stomach is back in order as he readies to fly back home.

What a trip.

Deeper thoughts:

Jimin and Jungkook wanted to spend time together. We knew that. It didn't seem to happen when it could have. They even said so in the Jeep. But JK concluded the discussion succinctly:

Finally.

Finally they were spending quality time together. Though their talk was brief, we have no idea if there was more to it before or after what we saw of it. The editors showed us that much enough to explain the situation and why it had not happened. The end result of it all was: finally.

Finally, after wanting this. Finally, after saying we would. Finally... doing something together that we loved doing before and we've wanted to do again. Finally.

Jimin pushed for it. He knew. He made it happen. Finally.

They are two distinct personalities and their journeys through this solo era leading up to their enlistment were different.

Jimin is a leader and doer. He is the initiator. Jimin said if he hadn't pushed for this show to happen it would not have gotten done.

There were a few moments in these first two episodes where Jimin brought up MS. Jungkook didn't seem thrilled to talk about it.

They truly didn't know what they were going to film for this show. They got in the car and started to make it up as they went. I can see how that would be awkward.

They don't understand that just them being themselves is what we want to see. They don't have to try to make something happen. Its the spontaneous moments that make the best content (see kayak dump and Walmart trip). Maybe Jimin was more in tune with this than Jungkook was but he is the one who turns on a live and sits there and watches Netflix while eating chicken. They had to get back in sync and they did.

So the first episode was a little slow, a little cautious, a little quiet. Reserved. That first day they were finding their groove, getting 're-acquainted' if you will, finding the slots and spaces in each other that fit and feel the most comfortable to them. You could see them relax as the day wore on.

But, they still had challenges. JK's head cold. Jimin's stomach bug. You want some TMI's? Watch Jimin run to the bathroom for the fifth time.

We may see a little bit of this quiet re-acquainting when BTS does its first group live next year. And yes, I am 100% confident we will see this first live shortly after Jimin and Jungkook are discharged. We will see them in a way we've never seen before.

After both episodes... my conclusion is we saw about 2 hours out of the roughly 3 or three and a half days Jimin and Jungkook were together. Thursday evening, July 13 through Sunday evening, July 16. I'm not exactly sure when JK left for London but Jimin went back to Korea on July 17.

I wonder if the plan was to create hour long episodes or if there was so much they wanted to show the episodes just ended up being that long. They could have easily hidden Jimin's stomach issues from us. They could have edited a lot of it down. But in making the episodes this long, they showed more and more of their dynamic in play.

I didn't put everything into this post that I wanted to but we've got six more episodes coming and I still haven't had time to watch Run Jin.

Hashtags arent working... I'll add them later.

[modelbus]

Hi! I absolutely loved the touch starved reader tommy fic and was hoping to request Tommy x reader(fem or gn, whatever ur comfortable with!)who’s an American streamer/yter and they’re doing long distance and haven’t seen each other in a while, so they decide to surprise him and visit him in the uk? Love your fics, have a great day! 🩷

Guess who’s been talking to someone recently :))

Pairing: Cc!Tommyinnit x Gn!Reader

Secret Surprises

“Right guys, now I just have to find my way through this maze of an airport.” You say to your camera, panning it around to show the crowds filling the London airport.

Visiting Tommy, your boyfriend, was always difficult, even if you loved him enough for it to be worth it. The long flight from America to England tended to be turbulence-filled, and the London airport was hell on Earth. Yet you’d still do it every single time.

Someone bumps into you, nearly knocking the camera out of your hands. You curse, fumbling with it before managing to pull it close to your chest. The stranger gives the camera a weird look, but you know by now to ignore the odd looks you get.

“And get an Uber.” You add, already pulling up the app because that seems like the most pressing thing. And you sure as hell weren’t going to try and figure out which side of the road to drive on: you fucked it up once and Tommy never let you live it down.

Luckily, a driver connects with you immediately, leaving you to follow the flow of people to the exit. You get pushed out into a busy road, wind ruffling your hair around.

The good thing about Ubers is that they’re familiar. Worldwide. And that drivers keep their mouths shut when you climb in with a vlog camera and a crazed look in your eye.

Your driver eyes you, then gives a short nod, as if to say, “Airports, am I right?”

You nod back, silently agreeing. Fuck airports, and fuck your love for Tommy that’s making you go through them.

”I’d give you guys a car montage, but doxxing him isn’t on the to-do list, so let’s pretend I’m doing a super cool transition.” You tell the camera, laughing and pausing your recording.

You double check your phone, making sure Tubbo has him stuck at the agreed upon location. It’s just a little arcade near his flat, somewhere he took you last time that you both loved. The perfect place for a little surprise.

Although it’s Tommy, although you know he’ll be happy to see you, your knee bounces against your will. You had planned this perfectly, but what if he changed his schedule and you didn’t know? Not that you’d mind watching him record, but you had bought tickets to a movie the two of you were planning to watch together over discord, among other things.

“This where you need to be?” The driver asks some time later, squinting at the little arcade. Your suitcases are still with you, so he’s probably judging you like crazy, but he’s definitely seen crazier things than you.

“Yup, thank you so much!” You exclaim, ungracefully clambering out of the car after sending a text to Tubbo. In return, the driver grunts at you and drives off. Ah, Uber driver hospitality.

Nothing else like it.

You flip on your camera, zooming in on the arcade doors. “Will we see an elusive Tommyinnit in the wild? Yes, because I orchestrated it, but oooh, mystery.” You whisper, lugging your suitcase behind you. It’s a fairly empty arcade so you don’t have to worry about more weird looks.

After a moments debate, you tuck the thing behind a dance machine—fucking hate those things—and set off for the prize counter where Tubbo promised they’d be.

Over the atrocious lime green carpet, past the bright and loud games. You can’t help eying one of those key games to scope out the prizes although you’ll never play it. You’re stupid, but not that stupid.

A light flickers above you (clearly a good sign), and you step around a racing simulator to see the prize counter. Ropes creating a line up to a glass counter that holds small prizes and shelves that hold larger prizes, you can’t help but grin.

And then your sights land on two familiar figures, and suddenly you’re beaming. You’re here, they’re here, Tommy’s really right there. For a second you just observe, zooming in with your camera and propping it on the racing game for a decent angle.

Even if the footage sucks, you wouldn’t mind. Not with him right there.

“But it’s a jet, Tubbo! Look at it!” Tommy is saying, holding a toy jet up to Tubbo’s camera. So that’s how Tubbo lured him here: a vlog. Ironic.

“But there’s better prizes, Tom. We could pool our tickets for that huge panda!” Tubbo insists, pointing at a large stuffed panda on the shelf. The worker behind the counter gives them a bored look, popping her gum.

“But a jet!”

You quickly make your way up behind Tommy, trying to stay silent.

“You aren’t— listen! We can— we can pool our tickets, and get a cool prize—“ Tubbo is frantically explaining, catching your eye past Tommy’s shoulder.

“I vote for the panda.” You say casually, pointing at the thing.

In front of you, Tommy freezes before whipping around with a stunned expression. “Wha—?”

“Panda.” You repeat patiently, grinning at him.

Tommy throws his game card at Tubbo, practically tackling you in a hug. You laugh as he suffocates you, stumbling backwards into the rope with him.

He’s real under your hands, something tangible that you adore more than anything else. Something solid and true and real and yours. You squeeze him back, arms around his middle.

“How the fuck are you here?” Tommy asks you, tugging you impossibly closer for a chaste kiss. “How the fuck did you keep this secret with your big mouth?”

You slap his arm lightly, laughing loudly. “My mouth isn’t that big, dumbass. Tubbo and I planned this entire thing, didn’t we?”

“Yeah! You had no idea!” Tubbo chimes in. He’s got his camera out, pointed at you and Tommy, for which you send him a thankful smile.

“When did you get here? You’re staying with me, right?” Tommy asks you, a stupid grin that you love on his face. You’re sure there’s a matching one on your face.

“If you’ll let me.” You confirm, letting him wrap his hand around yours. “I also bought tickets to that one movie for tomorrow. I think. The website was really weird about my American card.”

Tommy laughs, and you live in the sound that isn’t diluted by thousands of miles and technology.

“And we have to grab my suitcase.” You add on, because if you forgot it you might die. Along with your camera.

“Your suitcase?” He echoes.

“…It might be behind one of those stupid fucking dance games.”

Even though you’re prepared for his laughter this time, it still sweeps you away. Better than any British or American winds, better than the breeze outside. It sweeps you away like love.

[mikerickson]

8/29/2024 - 9/6/2024

If I had a nickel for every time I took a vacation in a small European naval power that historically punched above its weight in global affairs I'd have two nickels, which... ah, you know the rest.

Just got back from a trip to the Netherlands and Belgium that was basically: Amsterdam -> Apeldoorn -> Utrecht -> Den Haag -> Brussels -> Ghent -> Amsterdam. I will now proceed to talk to myself about the highlights below the cut.

Still can't sleep on planes. I even took a sleeping pill and bought a fancy new neck pillow thing to help, but instead I was just exhausted and strangling myself. My dinner also didn't sit well with me, so every time I was about to fall asleep, my gag reflex would trigger and I felt like I was gonna throw up. Seven hours of this was not very relaxing.

Landed at ass o'clock in the morning local time and had 6 hours to kill before hotel check in. I've always read that spending time outdoors in natural sunlight helps regulate your circadian rhythm and can fight jet lag, so I took us to look at some windmills. This was kind of a blur and I'm not certain it made much of a difference because I did end up crashing and taking a nap in the afternoon anyway.

Acknowledging that I am biased about this because I am 1) American and 2) literally a traffic engineer by trade, I simply cannot describe the Netherlands as anything other than "car-hostile". I felt actively unsafe driving around each city we visited because there are so many people on bicycles everywhere, who have right of way. Hell, even as a pedestrian I didn't feel safe because they come at you from every direction and you gotta keep your head on a swivel at all times. In The Hague I watched a woman get knocked into by a cyclist who just shouted over her shoulder "Let op voor fietsen!" ("Watch out for bikes!") and carried on.

Amsterdam ended up being more interesting than I was expecting and now I kinda wish I had dedicated one more day for it in the itinerary. Convenient and easy mass-transit system, some of the best bookstores I've ever been in, and beautiful canals everywhere you look.

Were I forced to describe the geography of the Netherlands, I would have to call it "suspiciously flat." I also got to continue my tradition of traveling to foreign countries, seeing literal hundreds of spinning wind turbines all over the place, and seething with jealousy.

Utrecht was a neat, smaller city with a central canal that I wish I had set aside more time for. Felt like a place where you'd actually want to live more than a touristy city.

The Mauritshuis in The Hague is where Vermeer's Girl with a Pearl Earring is located, and you know that before you even get to that room because she's plastered on 99% of everything for sale in the gift shop right at the entrance.

When we drove over the Netherlands-Belgium border, it started getting overcast. These gray skies hung around for four days, and dissipated as soon as we traveled back north on the final day. All of my memories of this country will now have a gray/de-saturated filter on them.

I know Brussels has a reputation of being a run-down or dangerous city among Europeans, but it just felt like a regular American city to me (specifically like the architecture/street layout of Boston with the political importance of Washington DC). Like, I don't know what to tell you, sometimes cities have visible homeless people, unsightly graffiti, and ethnic minority neighborhoods? It's gonna be okay, I promise. Amsterdam felt like Weenie Hut Jr. by comparison.

Going through the European Parliament building was very cool and very well laid-out and informative. Definitely a personal highlight of the trip for me.

The Belgian War Museum kinda just felt like some rich guy's personal collection of artifacts the public shouldn't have had access to? Not a lot of labels explaining what you're looking at in any language.

Belgian chocolate is fine. Not bad, but I mean it's chocolate, that's hard to screw up, you know?

During my research before this trip I kept seeing a general consensus that Bruges is super touristy and sanitized and feels fake and that Ghent was better for a more "authentically" preserved medieval center. I'm glad I opted to go there instead because it exceeded my expectations. Awesome architecture everywhere you turn, way fewer crowds than I expected, and it still felt lived in by modern people rather than a giant open-air museum.

Literally did not see a single physical Euro at all on this trip. Both of these countries are entirely cashless societies, and everyone (both tourists and locals) used chip readers and contactless payment for damn near every interaction. If anything, I saw tons of "Card Only/No Cash" signs and none of the opposite.

[depravitycentral]

This is a continuation of my last post, where anon asked about whether Kikyo and Silva would ever share a darling

Tw: kidnapping, dehumanization, pet-play ish, Kikyo is freaky, objectification, their marriage is as strange as the family they've raised, weird jealousy dynamics, weird sexual competing (?), Milluki is a creep

I think Silva and Kikyo could potentially keep a darling together, but the relationship is - odd, to say the least. Silva is significantly more emotionally attached than his wife - he's the one to even bring up the idea, actually, because his marriage to Kikyo has always been about convenience and offspring. And so, when he happens to run into you while he's out on a mission and you catch his eye for whatever reason, it's not exactly hard to bring you back to the mountain, dressing you up in pretty, expensive clothing and luxury lingerie sets underneath.

And frankly, Kikyo is not pleased - she's not exactly in love with Silva either, but she feels that her place as his wife is threatened by your presence, that her position within the Zoldyck family is hanging on by a string because Silva is obviously more charmed and affectionate with you than he is with her. At first she hates you – she’s doing everything in her power to drive you out, to make your life enough of a living hell that you’ll beg Silva to let you leave. (Or perhaps you’ll fall victim to the multitudes of ways she attempts to end your life.)

But though Silva doesn’t like upsetting Kikyo, his feelings for you – romantic, a foreign concept – are strong enough that he’s putting his foot down and stopping Kikyo from doing anything too terribly reckless. He’s always able to tell when she’s poisoned your food, or when she’s rubbed poison ivy all over your nice dresses so that you’ll become swollen and inflamed and hopefully he’ll toss you to the side because he’s disgusted by your appearance. Her attempts don’t work, and if anything it only draws your relationship with Silva closer – because suddenly he’s got you on his lap, your face pressed against his chest while you both ignore the very, very insistent bulge pressing against your crotch, his voice as soft as he can get it while he tells you that Kikyo will not hurt you, I won’t allow it.

And as time passes and he stays true to this promise, Kikyo finds herself slowly giving up. You really aren’t going, huh? He seems to really like you for some unknown reason, and so she instead turns her attention to making sure that even if her status as Silva’s wife is threatened, her status as the mother of the Zoldyck children stays in-tact.

And frankly, once she makes this shift, things change – because Silva spends a majority of his time with you, there’s no insinuations or attempts at stealing Kikyo’s motherly role. You’ve literally never even met most of the kids except for a few brief words over silent, uncomfortable family dinners, and Kikyo is smug about this. At least in this way she’s better than you – she’s a good mother, and you’re what? A good hole for her husband to settle into at night?

It makes her scoff.

Until one day, she notices that you are, begrudgingly, a bit attractive.

Not the beauty Silva seems to believe you are, but there’s something about you that she can’t deny is charming, even if she wants to. And so, as time passes, she slowly warms up to you; except, Kikyo’s version of ‘warming up’ – developing romantic feelings, yet again foreign to her – is transitioning from belittling and yelling at you out of anger to belittling and yelling at you because she wants your attention. She’s clingy, especially since Silva hogs so much of your time, and she relies on criticizing you and ‘reteaching’ you basic manners, skills, even how to dress as she sees fit. Her obsession manifests in making you unwavering obey her every command, the power making her feel giddy and oddly aroused.

And really, that’s a facet of your life as their shared darling that can’t be ignored – while some of the affection and attention you get is as innocent as it can be, given their profession and the fact that you were kidnapped, most of the touches and words and looks you get are anything but. And from both of them, too – each is equally guilty of constantly sexualizing you.

Silva is more traditional in his approach – he requests your presence most nights, staying in his own private chambers with the wooden doors locked tightly, the massive bed with its eerie blue lighting and satin sheets all bunched up and stained with his cum and your slick because he just can’t keep his hands off of you. He’s got you dressed up in nice clothing – revleaing dresses and garter belts hiding just above high slits in the fabric, the sight making him lick his lips and actually want you in a sexual manner, something he’s not used to experiencing. Every moment you spend with him involves his hand on your body somehow, whether it be steady and firm at your hip to remind you of his presence, or pressed against your stomach as he holds you in his lap, his cock stuffed as deep inside as possible while you cockwarm him, your sweet voice filling his ears as he commands you to speak to me, about whatever you like. Just don’t stop talking.

It's strange and it’ll make you think he only wants you as a glorified sex doll, but then he’ll do something small and unexpected that’s almost sweet, that almost seems like a genuine attempt to make you happy – a copy of your favorite book, or a beautiful necklace, or even an offer to spoil you with a private, intimate vacation to a destination of your choice. It’s strange, and while the lingerie sets are not ideal to wear around the mansion (particularly when Milluki is home – the staring is not subtle), Silva is tolerable. At least he normally preps you well before he fucks you.

Kikyo, on the other hand, expresses her attraction to you with much, much more humiliating methods. She’s naturally a bit sadistic, and while she isn’t actively trying to make you uncomfortable, she isn’t afraid to act on some of her more outlandish kinks. In contrast to Silva’s lingerie sets, you’ll be given pretty collars and ball gags and plugs to wear, all in varying shades of purple. (She favors purple because it’s both the family color and her favorite color, making her feel slightly better about her infatuation with you. Plus, she can’t deny how good you look in the eggplant, stain set she got you a few weeks ago, with a crotchless panty and material so thin stretched over your breasts that your nipple is fully visible.

She’ll treat you like a glorified dog at times, physically forcing your head between her legs and telling you to be good, make me feel good, or forcing you to your knees while she steps onto your thighs, a smile curling at her lips when you squirm in discomfort below her. Her overt sexual favors with you are less obvious than Silva’s, but there’s something about her’s that makes you feel weak and horrible and pathetic. And yet, similar to her husband, every once in a blue moon Kikyo is actually nice to you – after you’ve made her come a few times with your mouth, fingers and the toy she’d forced you to use (first in yourself, then in her – without washing it, a concept that’d made her blush heavily under her bandages), she’s breathlessly telling you how good you did, her nails digging into your skin a bit as she clutches onto you, her post-orgasmic high leaving her brain scrambled and praise for you slipping past her lips.

(One time she even tells you that she loves you – she hadn’t spoken to you for a few days afterwards, diligently avoiding you, though you were sure you caught her peeking into Silva’s room one of those night’s her lips parted, cheeks blushed so strongly pink that it extended down to her neck, a hand slipped up her skirt and visibly moving under the fabric. He hadn’t noticed, of course, because he was too busy bouncing you on his cock, eyes too busy staring as your ass jiggled and smacked against his navel as he fucked you in reverse cowgirl, but swear on your life that as soon as you made eye contact with Kikyo through the gap in the doorway, she made this high, whining noise and her knees buckled.

She’d come, from watching her husband fuck you.)

The situation is messy, quite honestly, but with time you’ll settle into it – you don’t have much of a choice, after all, and your presence fills a need that neither of them have been able to find in each other. And isn’t it just so nice to be loved by two people so thoroughly?

Even if you feel like a glorified pet more often than not?

[nb-octopus-writes]

once you’re in the hive, the other bees assume you’re supposed to be there

[Masterpost]

Chapter 5: The Most Accidental of Thefts

Wordcount: 2.4K

~~~~

The rest of Virgil’s shift is about average, which means he's tired at the end but not ready to drop dead of exhaustion, and he catches the bus home like usual. He'd charged his phone at work, so he's able to put his travel earbuds in and drown out the various noises of mass transit with the dulcet tones of MCR.

Soon enough, he's home. He drops his apron in the hamper—he'd gotten splashed with coffee, so he's gonna need to do laundry tonight—and flops into bed.

The pool noodles are still there from this morning, which makes the flop considerably less pleasant than usual. Virgil tugs them out from underneath himself and drops them on the floor, settling back again. Man, he's tired. In a bit, he'll have to get up and do something about dinner, and start that load of laundry, but for now, he's just gonna be flopped for a bit.

Virgil lies there for a few minutes.

One of the springs is poking into his back. Virgil shifts, trying to find a more comfortable position. He may not have wanted to stay for so long, but his back sure hadn't protested sleeping on a softer surface for a few nights.

The spring is persistent, and Virgil slides a hand under his back to see if he can adjust it.

It's not a spring.

Virgil sits up and looks. Lying innocently on the bed behind him is a phone. It isn't Virgil’s phone. Virgil’s phone has a black and purple case, and it's still in his pocket anyway. This phone is red and gold and sparkly. 

It's Roman's phone.

Well, fuck.

Virgil is a thief. He's a damn thief! Roman took time out of his own morning to drive him to work, and Virgil repaid him by stealing his phone! How could he!?

Virgil is going to die of shame. He really is. He's the worst houseguest ever. He didn't bother to learn their names beforehand—hell, he still only knows one name out of three even after being there for days, he showed up in an inappropriate costume that he's lucky didn't trigger Calico's arachnophobia, he stayed way longer than he was supposed to, he inconvenienced Roman and used him as a private chauffeur, and then, to top it all off, Virgil stole his phone.

How is he supposed to get Roman's phone back to him!? He can't text him, he doesn't know Roman's number and anyway Roman doesn't have his phone with which to receive a text.

He could text Remus. Remus would probably find the accidental theft hilarious. He also might just respond LOL and not help him return it nor inform Princey of its location.

Virgil’s out of ideas. He frowns at the stolen phone.

Well.

Maybe he has one more idea.

He can't text Princey, but maybe he can text Nerdbot or Calico.

Surely Princey has their numbers. Virgil can text them from his phone, and explain the situation. Mentally trying to compose the text, Virgil picks up the sparkly phone.

It's locked.

Part of Virgil wants to give up. He tried, he failed, time for bed.

He needs a number combination. Maybe Princey did the smart thing and came up with something unique, but maybe…

Virgil tries Remus's birthday, which is, after all, also Princey's birthday. The lock screen cuts him off after just four digits and says that nope, that wasn't it. Virgil tries just the year.

The phone unlocks.

“That is not a very secure passcode,” Virgil tells it. “Anyone could guess that, all they need to know is how old you are.”

Princey's phone is still open to the map app, and the route they'd taken from his house to Virgil’s apartment is still up. It had been a pretty quick trip, only a few miles.

Virgil has another idea.

Five minutes later, Virgil is on his bike, following the route in reverse. He doesn't dare touch any buttons and risk losing the starting position, so he can't ask for a route intended for bikes instead of cars, but he has the blue dot of his current location, and when he has to detour around a too-busy road with no bike lane or sidewalks, he's able to navigate back to the route without undue difficulty.

Soon, Virgil is pedaling up the driveway. He parks his bike in front of the porch, takes a steadying breath, and knocks on the door.

Nerdbot answers the door. “Virgil, hi,” he greets, looking mildly surprised to see him. Which, fair, they just got rid of him this morning.

“Hi,” Virgil says, trying to look past him without being obvious and rude about it. “Uh, is Roman home?”

Nerdbot raises an eyebrow at him, but nods and gestures for Virgil to step into the foyer. “Roman?” he calls into the rest of the house.

“Whaat?” Roman calls back from another room. He pops round the doorframe, and Nerdbot gestures to Virgil. “Scaramour!” Roman says, sounding genuinely pleased to see him. “What brings you here?”

“My bike,” Virgil quips. He holds up the accidentally stolen phone, and Roman lights up.

“You found it!” he cries, bounding over and snatching his phone out of Virgil’s hand. “Oh, I have been looking for this, where was it?”

“At my place,” Virgil admits.

“Huh,” says Princey, and, “Oops.”

Virgil’s about to apologize for accidentally stealing Roman's phone, when thunder rolls and the sky, which had gotten increasingly cloudy on the way over, opens up.

Roman shoves his phone back at Virgil, who only doesn't drop it due to luck and reflexes, and dashes out into the sudden rain. Before Virgil can process what's happening, Roman grabs Virgil’s bicycle and hauls it bodily up the porch steps and through the front door.

“...What,” Virgil says.

“You are my dark and stormy knight on shining bicycle,” Princey proclaims. “You have done me a great service by locating and returning my phone, and it would be dishonorable to send you home in such weather. Nor shall I allow your noble steed to rust!” He slicks his dampened hair back from his face. “I must insist that you grace us with your company until the storm passes.”

Virgil looks to Nerdbot for help. Nerdbot looks out the door at the rain. “I agree, this certainly isn't biking weather,” he says. “Have you had dinner?”

“Um,” says Virgil, feeling quite off-balance. “No?”

Nerdbot nods decisively and closes the door. “We were just sitting down to eat. I insist you join us.” He ushers Virgil into the dining room and says to Calico, “Please set another place, Patton. We have a guest.”

“Oh!” Calico—Patton?—says, smiling at Virgil. “Welcome back!”

“Hi,” Virgil says, and lets Nerdbot seat him, and lets Calico put a plate in front of him.

The rain doesn't let up all through dinner. In fact, it's pouring harder at the end of the meal than it had been at the start.

Nerdbot pulls up a weather forecast and frowns. “It looks like we're going to continue having heavy rain all night,” he says. “We currently have a flash flood warning until five in the morning tomorrow. ‘Do not attempt to travel unless you are fleeing a flooded area.’” He looks up at Virgil. “I'm sorry for the abrupt change in plans, but it looks like you're going to have to stay the night again.”

“Oh,” Virgil says. “Sorry.” He'd just meant to return the phone and apologize, but because of the rain they had to feed him again and now they have to put up with him for a whole nother night!

“It's no imposition,” Nerdbot reassures. “I'll prepare a guest room for you, and Patton can find you a spare set of pajamas.”

“Thanks,” says Virgil weakly. They're much better hosts than he deserves. He could have just slept on the couch again.

Nerdbot smiles at him. “You are welcome,” he says. “Roman, will you clear the table?”

Roman pouts, and Virgil offers, “I'll help.” It's the least he can do.

“Do you have work in the morning?” Roman asks while he puts away the leftovers and Virgil does the dishes.

“Yeah.”

“I'll drive you. Do you wanna stop by your place again, or wash your clothes here so you can wear them tomorrow?”

Fuck. Virgil winces. “I was going to do laundry tonight,” he remembers aloud. “My uniform is dirty, so I was going to wash it!”

“Oh no!” Roman says. “Do you have a spare?”

“I… I guess there's one at work I can borrow,” Virgil says, relaxing slightly. Yeah. He can do that, and then he can do laundry tomorrow.

Calico comes back with an armful of pajamas. “I think these should fit you,” he says, handing them to Virgil. “They might be a little loose.”

“I like loose,” Virgil reassures him. He hesitates. “Is… do you think I could take a shower?” He hasn't had one in days, and honestly he's feeling pretty gross.

“Probably?” Calico says. He starts back the way he'd come. “Logan?” he calls.

There's a muffled reply, and Patton leads Virgil up the stairs. “Logan?” he calls again as they reach the top.

Nerdbot steps out of one of the several doorways lining the long upstairs hallway. “What?” he asks.

“Is it safe to take a shower?”

“It's not ideal,” Nerdbot says, “but as the thunderstorm appears to have given way to just rain, we're unlikely to have a lightning strike. Go ahead.”

Patton smiles up at Virgil. “I'll get you a towel!” He opens one of the other doors, which leads to a stuffed linen closet, and hands Virgil a fluffy blue towel. “The bathroom's at the end of the hall,” he says, pointing. “Take as long as you need, we've got a big water heater.”

“Thanks,” Virgil says, and absconds into the bathroom. He locks the door behind him and sets his pile of borrowed clothes on the floor. Then he strips and enjoys a nice hot shower.

Their water pressure is great. Virgil stays under the spray far longer than is necessary to scrub the grime from his skin. When he steps out, Virgil is squeaky clean, and the most relaxed he's been all day.

Time to see what kind of pajamas Calico picked out for him.

Long pajama pants the same style as Logan's nerdy ones, but plaid this time, both a long-sleeved and a short-sleeved shirt, and a pair of boxer briefs. Virgil debates, but eventually decides that someone else's clean underwear is better than his own dirty underwear, and puts them on. He wonders for a moment whose boxers they are, but shuts that thought down. He doesn't need to know. He doesn't want to know.

There's also a rolled pair of ankle socks, a stocking cap, and a hairband. Patton really wanted to cover all his bases, huh?

Virgil puts on the pants and the long-sleeved shirt, but leaves the rest. They are loose, but not too much more than his own pajamas.

Virgil hangs his damp towel on the open hook beside the other towels, gathers everything else up, and slips out.

Logan had said he would prepare a guest room for him. Virgil figures his best guess would be the room he'd seen Logan come out of. It is indeed a bedroom, with the bed made and the covers turned down invitingly, and there's an unopened water bottle on the nightstand.

This is probably the right room. There's not really any personal stuff in it, so it's really unlikely this is someone else's bedroom.

If it's not the right room, they can tell him later that he was wrong and fucked it up. Virgil puts his dirty clothes on the floor, then cracks open the water bottle and sits down on the bed to have a sip.

What is this mattress made of, cotton candy!? It's soft and he sinks right in. He can't feel the springs at all. Virgil puts his water back on the nightstand and lies down.

He is in heaven.

Objectively, Virgil is in heaven right now. He is lying on a cloud, and it is the most comfortable surface he has ever laid upon. He is never getting up. He's not even near ready to go to sleep yet, but he's never getting up. They'll have to pry him out of this bed with a crowbar. This might be a problem for Future Virgil, when he has to get up for work or, like, to pee, but Future Virgil can suck a dick.

Around an hour later, there's a soft knock and Patton peeks in through the open door. Seeing that Virgil is still up and on his phone, he tiptoes exaggeratedly across the floor. “Sneak, sneak, I'm not here,” he whispers. “I'm just gonna steal your clothes to wash them so they're ready for you tomorrow, okay? I'll empty the pockets first so I don't accidentally destroy anything important.”

“’Kay,” Virgil says.

Patton empties Virgil’s pockets onto the nightstand, and then bundles up the clothes. “Thievery!” he declares softly, scampering away with Virgil’s dirty laundry. Virgil’s lips twitch and he holds back a giggle. Patton pauses at the doorway and asks in a perfectly normal tone, “Do you want me to turn off the light?”

“Sure,” Virgil says. Might as well, and it'll save him the trip. Or the falling asleep with the light on, rather, since he's never leaving this bed.

Patton turns the light off. “Goodnight,” he says, silhouetted by the hall light. “Sleep well. I love you.”

It's probably just a reflex. He probably didn't mean to say that, not to Virgil. He barely knows him. He probably says it to Logan and Roman all the time, and it just slipped out. Virgil bites the reflexive ‘love you too’ back from the tip of his tongue, then thinks maybe he should have said it back anyway, make Patton feel less awkward about his own reflexive slip. But then it's been too long, and it wouldn't sound natural, and Virgil just says,

“Goodnight.”

Patton pulls the door to, and leaves Virgil alone in the dark.

He plays a game on his phone for a few more hours, and then sinks back into the wonderfully soft bed and sleeps.

~~~~

Chapter 6: Baiting the Trap