#I canNOT find my passport

[daisywords]

weeping wailing and gnashing of teeth

[diazsdimples]

Tell me why this motherfucker is talking to someone 8 years younger than him (he's 26) in the bed we shared for 6 years, giggling like a schoolboy, just over a week after we decided to get a divorce? And he says he's not being disrespectful? Get absolutely fucked mate

[queerbauten]

seeing Joosttwt hand-wring vaguely about Joost’s “stances” on things and wondering what they could be talking about… only to remember he had the audacity to meet up with CMH (a Russian artist) today and realizing that oh, it’s just xenophobia

ETA: see the reblogs for my thoughts now that I know the full context

[the-impossible-bird]

this last week has been the absolute Worst for me mentally and also made me feel like I'm despicable as a person and don't deserve anything nice and I'm not even that glad it's over for multiple reasons

[godisafallacy]

I need a good scream!!!!!

[cherrylindreams]

.

[lilyginnyblackv2]

Social Issues that Help with Understanding Buddy Daddies

Here are some political, social, and cultural aspects of Japanese culture that I think is important to keep in mind when watching Buddy Daddies. Please note: this is a super long post, with lots of pictures. 

1. Human Trafficking - Slave Labor

In Episode One, we learn that Miri’s birth father was involved in labor based human trafficking involving Southeast Asian individuals. This is currently a very big issue in Japan, since Southeast Asian immigrants (among others) are viewed as a cheap labor option and usually experience slave labor like conditions.

From The United States Department of State website:

Men, women, and children from Northeast Asia, Southeast Asia, South Asia, Latin America, and Africa travel to Japan for employment or fraudulent marriage and are subjected to sex trafficking. Traffickers use fraudulent marriages between foreign women and Japanese men to facilitate the entry of women into Japan for sex trafficking in bars, clubs, brothels, and massage parlors. Traffickers keep victims in forced labor or commercial sex using debt-based coercion, threats of violence or deportation, blackmail, confiscation of passports and other documents, and other psychologically coercive methods.

2. Drugs in Japan

When I was living and working as an ALT in Japan, two ALTs (in a different district, but within the same company of my own), got caught with drugs. It was a big deal and ended up in the newspapers. The company I worked for had to do a lot of PR work with the elementary and junior high schools that they had contracts with, to ensure that the contracts would remain. As for me and the other ALTs? We had to sit through like five separate meetings within like two months about drugs and drug laws in Japan. 

The barebones takeaway is that, in Japan, weed is viewed as being on the same level as hardcore drugs. Charges can be steep and strict. Even just knowing that someone has drugs, and you don’t say anything to law enforcement about it, can get you in trouble. There is a grey area with drugs, which is stuff like bath salts and the like. Since the selling of things like that cannot be prohibited, so they are easily accessible to the public. 

Japan still has a very “90′s D.A.R.E.” approach to drugs. It’s catchphrase is 「ダメ。ゼッタイ。」or “No! Never.”

(Image from a Web Magazine called Nagasaki Press.)

When celebrities are caught with (what’s usually) weed, it can basically be the end of their careers, since recreational drug use of any kind (excluding alcohol, of course), is still negatively looked down upon in Japanese society. This is why it is still heavily left in the hands of the yakuza and drug kingpins, etc. Though there has been a recent increase in protests and ideology surrounding the idea of legalizing weed. Still, not much acceptance for recreational use is likely to come yet. However...

There may soon be some revision to the laws, which will allow for medical use:

Legislation changes scheduled for 2023

In 2021, the MHLW established an expert committee to review the Cannabis Control Act, and it is expected revisions will be proposed in a bill to be submitted in 2023. This will most likely allow for the use of medical cannabis. 2022/12/02

From: Euromonitor

So, something to keep in mind when Kazuki talks about a drug kingpin here is that this drug kingpin is likely not just dealing with super, hardcore drugs, but also softer ones too, like weed.

3. Child Protection Squad

There is this misconception in Japan that really young kids, like Miri’s age, can just roam free all around Japan and no one will find it odd. In Episode 1, we do see Miri roaming around the city without anyone really taking notice, but she also wasn’t in an area where there would be people that are trained to take notice.

In the above image she is at a park, which is likely close to a school somewhere. The man that approaches her here has a band around his jacket sleeve that says こども見守り隊 (kodomo mimamori-tai), which gets translated to “Child Protection Squad.” Basically, these are like crossing guards, in a way, because they do play a similar role to that, but they also do more than that as well:

(Image from the Japanese website: Nice Senior).

This people basically ensure that kids stay on the right paths on their way to school. Most of the time, when elementary school children head off to school, they will go in groups (with the 5th or 6th graders being the leaders) and there will often be older people outside their houses on their way in, keeping an eye on the children to make sure they get to school okay. 

And that’s talking about elementary school aged kids. For ones that are around Miri’s age, usually the parents (mostly mothers) will bring them by bike:

Or they will get picked up by a bus:

This one looks pretty boring in comparison to some others you might see though, like these:

(Image from the Hiyoshidai School Website)

Sometimes the daycare workers will also take them on little excursions outside using big strollers for the kids to travel around in:

(The image is obviously from a stock photo site called fotostock, but yeah, I’ve seen these before when I lived in Japan).

But a little toddler just sitting on her own at a mostly empty park with just a guy sitting at a park bench nearby watching her? That would raise attention and an eyebrow from someone who is essentially a crossing guard and whose job is to ensure the safety of kids as they travel to and from school. 

The rest is under a Read More.

4. Police in Japan

I saw a comment somewhere (maybe it was over on Youtube) about how the cops are portrayed here in Buddy Daddies. The comment was basically that Japanese cops wouldn’t be that aggressive with a child. But, well, cops in Japan have issues like everywhere. Though, the main issue with cops recently has more so been with racial profiling:

(Excerpt is from a Japan Times article entitled:  60% of people with foreign roots questioned by Japanese police, survey finds).

Of course, this situation is different from the one we see happening with Miri, but the Japanese police have issues with corruption too. So this happening wouldn’t seem too out of the realm of possibilities to me. The anime Tiger & Bunny 2 Part 2 also recently had some moments in the season where there was some anti-cop (ACAB-type) sentiments expressed by a character (though that series is also meant to take place in a city based on NYC).

5. Issues Surrounding Reproductive Rights, Contraception, and Abortion

“Took advantage of me” is fairly vague wording, but considering the type of guy he was, and the fact that Miri’s mother is caught in another abusive relationship, it wouldn’t surprise me if Miri’s conception wasn’t fully consensual one. People like to talk about how safe Japan is, but Japan has a lot of sexual violence that goes unreported: 

(From an article entitled:  Many sexual violence victims in Japan do not report assaults to police, support groups: survey - The article was posted on November 24, 2020 over on The Mainichi news website).

There is a lot of societal pressure in Japan, that can cause a lot of judgement as well. Especially around issues of reproductive rights. From a Japan Times articles entitled:  Pandemic provides an opportunity to improve access to contraception, posted on January 30th, 2022, we can get a little insight into the issues surrounding contraceptives:

The article also talked about the judgement that can come with contraceptives. The last line also talks about abortion, which comes with its own set of issues in Japan:

(From The Japan Times article: Abortion legal and apolitical in Japan, but cost and consent present barriers)

So abortion was likely an option that Miri’s mother didn’t think was really viable, especially in her situation.

7. Being a Single Mother in Japan, Adoption

In Ep.3 we hear Kazuki parroting a lot of the stuff you usually hear when it comes to women in children, like it is meant to be a natural and innate thing. There is a societal pressure for a woman to give birth and care for the child, even when they aren’t in the best situations to do so. Miri’s mother was, for all intents and purposes, a single mother. Since I doubt the abusive man she is currently with had any hand in helping Miri.

Being a single mother anywhere can be a big challenge, but especially so in Japan. Some issues that single mother’s face in Japan, according to the article “Why Most Families with Single Mothers in Japan are Living in Poverty” from a site called The Borgen Project: 

From that same article, we learn that joint-custody and child support doesn’t exist in Japan. So Miri’s mother was likely under a lot of societal and financial stress, along with possible Post-Partum Depression, and (also probable) burnout. This doesn’t mean that her behavior or attitudes are okay, but that they are likely a result of a failed system. 

I’ve seen some people bring up adoption, but adoption doesn’t automatically mean that a child will have a better life either. My grandfather’s mother was force to give her children up to the state, so my grandfather spent a good chunk of his life in an orphanage. It wasn’t a pleasant experience. And the probability that Miri would have been adopted had her mother gone through the actual system is, sadly, extremely low. From an article entitled: “The state of orphans in Japan and how to help” found on the site Zenbird.Media is this bit of information:

And even if Miri had been in an orphanage, Misaki (Miri’s mother) would still be her legal guardian. 

So an option like that would be unappealing for Misaki, because she doesn’t want anything to do with Miri. 

7. LGBT+ Individuals Being Viewed as “Not Productive”

Finally, we have the last thing I briefly want to talk about. The main backbone of Buddy Daddies, which is these two hitmen taking care of a child. Last year, a Japanese politician was in the news because she retracted some previous statements she made in 2016 and 2018. We are going to focus on her 2018 statements, which were:

Her comment received a lot of backlash and was big news. Her retracting her statements also brought a lot of news and talk too. The above information comes from The Japan Times article: “ Japanese lawmaker retracts past remarks on LGBTQ and other minorities.” Her other comments are awful too, but it should be noted that her one about sexual-minority couples stems from the issue of Japan’s declining birthrate. Even though many people in Japan are supportive of LGBT+ rights, there are people that hold a similar viewpoint as this. 

Buddy Daddies is pretty directly challenging this ideology, especially with how they have been handling things. So that’s pretty cool and revolutionary in its own way. It makes me interested in seeing how this continued topic as well as any future social issue topics will be handled or touched upon in Buddy Daddies.

If you read this all until the end: thank you so much! I put a lot of work into this write up and I hope it can help (I learned some things too while researching!).

[halaboyz]

that and then, wooyoung

stranger! ateez wooyoung x gn! reader it's not angst i swear! it's fluff ^^ i think it falls under love at first sight? i'm not too sure about that wc: 2.1k warnings: food; no more that i know of a/n: brainrot brainrot brainrot (literally)

"I'm sorry, but your flight is delayed until tomorrow morning, and we can't find a way to reimburse you neither with hotel accommodations," You sigh, massaging your temple.

"Does that even make sense?"

"Does that even make sense?!" You and the guy on the other side of the control table ask (read: he shouted) at the same time, making you whip your head to his side.

He's just as stressed as you, yes.

Okay, maybe him a bit more.

"I'm sorry, but you'll have to wait for a few more hours," The staff apologetically smiles, handing you back your passport.

You just nod defeatedly, heading to the near seats and to look ridiculously at the man almost shouting at the staff.

"As if the staff could control the weather..." You whisper, and almost immediately the man sighs, shakes his head and gets his passport. When he turns around, he meets your what's with this man-face, which you immediately straighten out and try to avert your gaze somewhere else.

You get your book from your bag and try to read a paragraph, when you realize the man was walking to your side of seat. You internally roll your eyes, holding back a sigh.

After minutes of silence, he forcefully lets out a small cough.

"I'm not that kind of person, you know." You hear, and you first look around to see if he was talking to someone else. When you meet his eyes, you ask if he was talking to you. "Yes, you. I was already running late for my plans on the other side of the world, and now I'm stuck for a few more hours now."

"Ah," You smile, nodding and chuckling awkwardly.

"Is your flight delayed too? Heard we said the same thing a while ago."

What an extrovert.

"Yes, until tomorrow morning." You answer shortly, trying to end the conversation by sticking your nose to your book.

"And your hotel?"

"Cannot be provided."

"Do you want to roam around with me?" He asks straightforwardly, having a poker face with him.

"Hmm- What?" You jerk from your seat, almost agreeing to what the weird man was suddenly offering.

"Roam around. Night's alive around here. We're stuck anyway. Would you want to go with me?"

You look around to see if there was someone else hearing this absurdity, which to there was none. When he senses your urgency, he chuckles.

"I'm actually a very fun person to be with, thank you very much. I'm Wooyoung," He shows you his passport, and lets you keep it. "I'm giving you that to assure you. I swear I'm not up to anything. Just fun, I mean that like... fun. F-U-N."

He makes you scoff, and you actually think about it. Like he said, you were stuck anyway. Even though you were an introvert, there was no way in hell you'd stay there sitting for eight hours.

"Okay." You agree, "And I would very much keep this for safety reasons." You chuck his passport to the deepest part of your handbag.

After keeping your luggage on the lockers, you head out with the man.

"I don't think I've gotten your name," He smiles, and you introduce yourself. "Do you want to go to the near night market? They have the best fish cakes I have ever tasted." You chuckle at his exaggeration, following him as he guided you with his blabbering.

He was indeed a very fun person to be with.

And it was indeed the best fish cakes.

You burst out laughing when his excitement caused him to burn his tongue, pointing at his redder part of the tongue.

"Now I can't taste anything!" He sulks, letting the ice of the juice he just bought stay in his tongue.

"Whoever told you to eat that fast," You chuckle, finishing another stick in front of him. "I give it to you, these are the best." You mock his exaggeration, throwing the stick. He pouts and looks back at the stall, stomping.

"I thought I won't have the time to go here, but when I had, I burnt my tongue," He angrily whispers, throwing the now empty cup.

His burnt tongue didn't stop him from having dessert, though. The delight he had on his face when he had tiramisu was so... lovable. He looked like a man going back to being a kid, pointing every stall with the food he loved.

"You're not a kid, are you?" You suddenly question him, stopping him mid-bite of his tiramisu. "I don't want to go back as a kidnapper,"

"Did you not look at my passport or something?" He unbelievably gawks at you, shaking his head.

"Ah, right." You nod dumbly, laughing at yourself. You hear him giggle anyway, and it gives you the butterflies.

Oh god, please no.

You shake your head to reality, slapping yourself internally.

As if he wasn't feeling the same. He's been slapping himself (lightly, physically, without you seeing it) if he caught himself smiling while looking at you.

He only met you three hours ago, come on.

Wait, "Three hours?!" He screams, looking at his phone, and his watch, and your phone, and your watch, and the clock ticking on one of those biggest buildings- yes, it has been three hours.

"Oh, yeah. It's been." You nod, confirming it with your watch. You've been keeping watch of the time, wanting to make the most out of it by enjoying every bit. You pout, him reminding you that yes, again, it has been three hours.

And now three hours and thirty minutes.

"Did you run out of places to go?" You chuckle, feeling the cold night air pass through your face. "I have one, should we?"

Wooyoung instinctively nods away, knowing he'd be good as long as he's with you anyway.

You guide him with a smile, knowing that with the personality he has been showing you, he was going to like the place you're going.

A carnival.

You knew today was going to be its last day, so it was going to last until the morning.

It was... enjoyable.

Seeing unusual costumes paraded and games played, you've never seen a man shine so bright when he smiles, when he (he does) squeals, and jumps and everything he does, and most importantly, never seen a man look at you with those eyes.

Those eyes.

And you have never fallen in love that fast.

Are you in love?

"Hey... I think we need to leave to the airport by now," Now, you were left with two hours. The sky was starting to lighten, the moon starting to and trying to between clearing clouds.

"One last game," He grabs your arm, and starts god knows what he's doing. Wriggling and stomping and pouting and whining. "That card game over there looks fun, ah, please..."

"Fine, fine. It won't hurt." He drags you around hand in hand, and you heave a breath. Not because you were out of it because he was running dragging you with him, but because of how you wanted his hand on yours for a longer time.

"You play it simply guessing what the card is stuck on your forehead. You can do it for ten minutes, thank you."

When the staff leaves, you look at the stacked cards in front of you, being dumbfounded that you had to pay ten dollars for that.

Well, what's a carnival without a scam.

You burst into a fit of giggles, getting the cards and shuffled it. "Looks fun, one said."

Okay- he didn't expect that the game was going to be this simple. He really, really just wanted more time to enjoy with you.

He'd spend every penny he has on his wallet now just to be with you a second longer.

"Let's just start the game," You chuckle, pushing his fringe aside to stick the card to his forehead. When you're done, you laugh at his deadpanned face. "What? You wanted it! Now stick one on mine."

He does the same with your hair, pushing it aside for the card to stick on.

"You know, I really enjoy tonight. I regret even shouting at the staff earlier for delayed flights." He starts, sweetly arranging your hair back. "I did not regret a second."

"I did." You crane your neck, hissing. His face drops in worry, because he thought you were enjoying it as much as he did.

"With what? Oh my god, I'm so sorry... we can leave now if you want!" Wooyoung scurries to leave the tent, but you immediately pull him back.

"I was joking! The only waste was your money going down the drain for this shitty card game," You explain, laughing at him. "I enjoyed tonight too, Mr. Wooyoung. It was a pleasure meeting you too."

You both knew this, whatever this was, but individually you discretely called it love, was short-lived.

Although you both wanted it to be for long, you both want to be each other's side for longer, no one was uttering anything out. You avoided the topic like a plague.

"How do we even guess it... without asking straightforward questions like what the shape or number is..." Wooyoung whispers, and you immediately burst into laughter. A big one.

When you were back at home, laughter came to you like a blue moon. With him, it was easy.

He laughs when you laugh, both leaning to each others shoulders naturally to catch up on your breaths for a whole good 5 minutes.

Because really, how would you do it?

"Is it the shape of a star?" Wooyoung asks, and you gawk at him.

"A diamond is not a star, Wooyoung!" You lecture, pointing at him.

"Okay! Then it's not a diamond... Let me guess now! I think it's two of spades!"

"That's unfair! I blurted out a hint!"

"That wasn't a hint at all, you were just lecturing me! So I guessed it wasn't a diamond so I'm left with what, spades! And you said it was an even number, the first even number was 2 so I guessed that! Just admit it, I'm lucky,"

"Fine! Whatever," You pout, putting the cards down and getting the one on your forehead. "Mine was a joker?!"

"...would like to call on passengers of ATZ-1117, you may now start heading to gate 8. We would like to apologize once more for the delay of flights. Again, Airline KQ would like to call on passengers of..."

"That's my flight!" You hurry, scurrying to your shared locker as you hear your flight being called the moment you step inside the airport.

"That's your flight?" Wooyoung softly asks, helping you with your things.

"Airline KQ would now like to call on passengers of ATZ-1024, you may now start heading to gate 18. We would like to apologize once more for the delay of flights. Again..."

"And that's mine." Wooyoung sighs, and you stop to memorize his features.

He fiddles with the handle of his luggage, and you muster the courage to cup his face.

"When time permits, we'll meet again." You smile at him, handing him his passport back. "It was fun. I enjoyed a lot, Woo."

He cups your cheeks back, and lands your forehead a kiss.

"We'll see each other again." You pat his back, urging a hug to which he allows. A tight one.

Before he breaks it off, he leans his forehead with yours. mesmirizing the last minutes he has with you before parting ways.

"Wooyoung... I'm sorry,"

"Right. If you don't leave now, I don't think you would, ever. I wouldn't let you," He leaves your forehead another kiss, and finally letting you go.

Except your hand.

He takes another good look at you and smiles, knowing that he'll find you in time.

He hopes he does. He prays he does.

"I'll see you when I do," You smile, and you start stepping back. You give his hand a good grip before finally tearing it apart, turning around with one last smile.

You had a job application to catch up to.

You had to stop yourself from looking back because once you do, you knew you were doomed.

And he had to watch you walk away first before he does, because god knows how wide open his arms would be once you look back and decide to jump back into his arms again.

But yet again, you don't. So he sharply inhales and turns around as well, delving to the reminiscing moments with you in his mind.

He remembers, he had his wedding to attend to.

[daegu-based-terrorist]

hi i love your blog especially the photos. are they yours? also are the postcards you posted yours?

No they are not! I cannot return to North Korea without permanently defecting as when you arrive in South Korea they remove your North Korean citizenship and passport from you. Most North Koreans don’t have passports at all because the South Korean government considers us flight risks, I’ve been a South Korean citizen since I was 8 years old and was only just allowed to get a passport at 18. My mother is still denied one every year.

So unfortunately until i can get a Chinese citizenship and get the NIS off my back none of these photos will be my own.

If I can find them I’ll try and post some of my mum’s old Polaroids of our life in Hamhung though.

[ollie-monster]

In Gaza, a child is not really a child. Our eight-year-old son, Yazzan, has been talking about fetching his toys from the ruins of our house. He should be learning how to draw, how to play soccer, how to take a family photo. Instead, he is learning how to hide when bombs fall.

I don’t want to hug anyone, because I don’t want to believe that I am leaving them. I kiss my parents and shake hands with my siblings, as though I am only going on a short trip. What I am feeling is not guilt but a sense of unfairness. Why can I leave and they cannot? We are lucky that Mostafa was born in the U.S. Does it make them less human, less worthy of protection, that their children were not? I think about how, when we go, I may not be able to call them, or even find out whether they are alive or dead. Every step we take will take us away from them.

We are about to pass the checkpoint when a soldier starts to call out, seemingly at random. “The young man with the blue plastic bag and the yellow jacket, put everything down and come here.” ... They’re not going to pull me out of the line, I think. I am holding Mostafa and flashing his American passport. Then the soldier says, “The young man with the black backpack who is carrying a red-haired boy. Put the boy down and come my way.” He is talking to me.

The soldiers blindfold me and attach a numbered bracelet to one wrist. I wonder how Israelis would feel if they were known by a number. Then someone grabs the back of my neck and shoves me forward, as though we are sheep on our way to be slaughtered. I keep asking for someone to talk to, but no one responds. The earth is muddy and cold and strewn with rubble. I am pushed onto my knees, and then made to stand, and then ordered to kneel again. Soldiers keep asking in Arabic, “What’s your name? What’s your I.D. number?”

One by one, we are forced into a truck. Someone who is not moving lands on my lap. I fear that a soldier has thrown a corpse onto me, as a form of torture, but I am scared to speak. I whisper, “Are you alive?” “Yes, man,” the person says, and I sigh with relief. When the truck stops, we hear what sound like gunshots. I no longer feel my body. The soldiers give off a smell that reminds me of coffins. I find myself wishing that a heart attack would kill me.

Another man, maybe talking to himself, says quietly, “I need to be with my daughter and pregnant wife. Please.” My eyes fill with tears. I imagine Maram and our kids on the other side of the checkpoint. They don’t have blankets or even enough clothes. I can hear female soldiers, chatting and laughing. Suddenly, someone kicks me in the stomach. I fly back and hit the ground, breathless. I cry out in Arabic for my mother. I am forced back onto my knees. There is no time to feel scared. A boot kicks me in the nose and mouth. I feel that I am almost finished, but the nightmare is not over.

When we exit the truck and my name is called, I am temporarily given my I.D. card. I feel a prick of hope. Maybe they are going to release us. Inside a building, my blindfold is pulled off. A soldier is aiming an M-16 at my head. Another soldier, behind a computer, asks questions and takes a photo of me. Another numbered badge is fastened to my left arm. Then I see the doctor, who asks whether I suffer from chronic diseases or feel sick. He does not seem interested in my pain. Back at the detention center, blindfolded again, we kneel painfully for hours. I try to sleep. A man moans nearby; another is hopeful that he will get to go back to the doctor. Late in the evening, a soldier calls my name. The shawish leads me to the gate, and a jeep comes to take me away.

When I wake, a soldier says something in English that I cannot believe. “We are sorry about the mistake. You are going home.” “Are you serious?” Silence. “I will go back to Gaza and be with my family?” “Why wouldn’t I be serious?” Another voice chimes in: “Isn’t this the writer?” Back at the detention center, as I fall asleep, I think about the words “We are sorry about the mistake.” I wonder how many mistakes the Israeli Army has made, and whether they will say sorry to anyone else.

On Tuesday, about two days after I left the school, the man with the megaphone teaches us how to say good morning in Hebrew. “Boker Tov, Captain,” we say in unison. Some new detainees have arrived in an enclosure nearby, and the soldiers overseeing them seem to be having fun. They sing part of an Arabic children’s song, “Oh, my sheep!,” and order the detainees to say “Baa” in response.

After an hour, some soldiers approach. One has my I.D., and another drops a pair of slippers for me and tells me to walk. Then one of them says, “Release!” I am so overjoyed that I thank him. I think about my wife and children. I hope that my parents and siblings are alive. I spend about two hours at the place where I was interrogated, with the Hebrew music. I am given some food and water, but the soldiers never find my family’s passports. I climb into a jeep, surrounded by soldiers. After two hours, I can see around my blindfold that we are getting close to Gaza.

The soldiers get out, smoke, and return fully armed, wearing their vests and helmets. I am thinking about the man I recognized in line, and what he said about human shields. I am starting to wish that I could go back to the detention center when they give me my I.D. card. Standing against a wall, I tell the closest soldier that I am scared. “Do not feel scared. You will leave soon.” My handcuffs are cut, and the blindfold is removed. I see the place where I had to take my clothes off. When I see new detainees waiting there, sadness overwhelms me.

I take off my slippers and start to run. Passersby are staring, but I don’t care. Suddenly, I spot an old friend, Mahdi, who once was the goalkeeper on my soccer team. “Mahdi! I’m lost—help me.” “Mosab!” We hug each other. “Your wife and kids are at the school next to the college,” he says. “Just turn left and walk for about two hundred metres.” I cry as I run. Just when I start to worry that I have lost my way, I hear Yaffa’s voice. “Daddy!” She is the first piece of my puzzle. She seems healthy, and is eating an orange. When I ask where the rest of the family is, she takes my hand and pulls me as if I were a child.

I learn from Maram how lucky I was. She used my phone to inform friends around the world, who demanded my safe release. I think about the hundreds or thousands of Palestinians, many of them likely more talented than me, who were taken from the checkpoint. Their friends could not help them.

[humansofnewyork]

(2/54) “I couldn’t find it anywhere. Even on the streets of Tehran, it was nowhere to be seen. The Iran I knew was gone. Everywhere I turned it was nothing but black: black cloaks, black shrouds. The universities were closed, the libraries were closed. Our poets, our singers, our authors, our teachers: one-by-one they were silenced. Until Iran only survived inside our homes. I never planned to leave. I didn’t even have a passport. Twenty years earlier I’d sworn an oath to The Siren: every choice I made, I’d make for Iran. But The Siren was dead. They shredded his heart with bullets. And there was only one choice left: leave and live, or stay and die. It was an eight-hour drive to the Turkish border. Mitra came with me. We rode in silence the entire way. I’ve always wondered how things would have turned out differently if we’d been more aligned. She wanted our lives to be a love story. A surreal romantic journey. She wanted a life of togetherness, surrounded by beauty. For me life was meant to be lived in the pursuit of ideals: truth, justice, freedom. Even if that meant the ultimate sacrifice. We kissed goodbye in the border town of Salmas. In the main square stood a statue of Iran’s greatest poet: Abolqasem Ferdowsi. On that day it was still standing. Soon the regime would tear it down. I spent the night in the house of a powerful family who was known to oppose the regime. Their servants stood around the house with machine guns on their shoulders. Six months later they’d all be dead. On my final morning in Iran I woke with the sun. I knelt on the floor and prayed. The final journey was made on foot. It was six miles to the border, the road climbed through the mountains. It was a closed border; so the road was empty. Every step felt like death. I’ve never cried so many tears. Ferdowsi once wrote: ‘A man cannot escape what is written.’ I’ve always hated that quote. I hate the idea of destiny. There is always a role for us to play. There is always a choice to be made. But on that day it felt like destiny, a river flowing in one direction. And I was a leaf, floating on top. Away from where I wanted to go.” 

آن را نمی‌یافتم. حتا در خیابان‌های تهران - در هیچ‌ جای دیگر هم نبود. ایرانی که من می‌شناختم، رفته بود. به هر سو نگاه می‌کردم تنها سیاهی بود: عباهای سیاه، چادرهای سیاه. دانشگاه‌ها را بسته بودند، کتابخانه‌ها بسته بودند. شاعران‌مان، هنرمندان‌مان، نویسندگانمان، آموزگاران‌مان - همه را یک به یک خاموش کرده بودند. ایران تنها درون خانه‌هامان زندگی می‌کرد. من هرگز قصد رفتن نداشتم. من حتا گذرنامه هم نداشتم. بیش از بیست سال پیش در نیروی آژیر سوگند یاد کرده بودم: همه‌ی اندیشه و توانم، برای ایران خواهد بود. ولی آژیر را کشته بودند. قلبی را که هر تپشش برای ایران بود با گلوله‌ سوراخ کرده بودند. و تنها یک گزینه مانده بود: رفتن و زنده ماندن، یا ماندن و مردن. تا مرز ترکیه نزدیک به هشت ساعت رانندگی بود. میترا با من همراه شد. سراسر راه را در خاموشی گذراندیم. همواره کنجکاو بوده‌ام که سرنوشت ما چگونه می‌شد اگر ما هم‌آهنگ‌تر می‌بودیم. او همواره می‌خواست که زندگی‌مان سفری رؤیایی و عاشقانه باشد. همراهی در زیبایی. ولی زندگی برای من مسئولیتی جدی بود. می‌بایستی آرمانخواهانه برای رسیدن به راستی، داد و آزادی زندگی کرد. در شهر سلماس با بوسه‌ای همدیگر را بدرود گفتیم. در میدان اصلی شهر تندیسی از بزرگترین شاعر ایران بر پا بود: ابوالقاسم فردوسی، پیر پردیسی من. آن روز تندیس هنوز برپا بود. دیری نپایید که رژیم آن را ویران کرد. شب را در خانه‌ی خانواده‌ای پرنفوذ که به مخالفت با رژیم شناخته می‌شد، سپری کردم. خدمتکاران آنها مسلسل بر دوش خانه را پاسبانی می‌کردند. شش ماه پس از آن دیدار بسیاری از آنها را نیز کشتند. در واپسین بامدادم در ایران با سپیده‌دم بیدار شدم و نماز خواندم. واپسین بخش راه را پیاده رفتم. تا مرز دو فرسنگ راه بود. راه از میان کوهستان می‌گذشت. مرز بسته بود، گذرگاه هم تهی بود. هر گامی سخت بود و اشکم جاری. فردوسی چنین می‌گوید: بکوشیم و از کوشش ما چه سود / کز آغاز بود آن چه بایست بود. همواره از این گفته بیزار بوده‌ام. از مفهوم سرنوشت بیزارم. هرگز نپذیرفته‌ام که سرنوشت از پیش نوشته شده باشد. همیشه گزینش و انتخابی هست. ولی آن روز سرنوشت من چون رودخانه‌ای به یک سو روان بود. و من چون برگی شناور بر آب. دور از جایی که آهنگ رفتنم بود

[etirabys]

The only China-related blog I read posted something that deviates from its usual "just translate the top posts on Weibo" post format. It's about the position of women in China:

https://weibo.substack.com/p/feminism-and-the-position-of-women

It and the (extremely fucking dark) post it links to in its second paragraph have been on my mind for several days. I've kept the browser tabs open despite having finished reading & having no desire to reread them.

I found the feminism post illuminating – things I'd 80% understood about the CCP's "strategy" wrt gender snapped into place, and I feel foolish for not having clearly seen that angle before:

The problem, of course, is that the gender ratio in China has been off for a very long time now. Inevitably, there are going to be a lot of men who will never find a wife. And inevitably, those men are going to be precisely the most unstable elements of society—the poorest, working the most menial of jobs, with the least hopes of ever getting promoted, with the least education. Under these circumstances, relying on market forces is not an option. Women would never willingly marry those people when they have perfectly good careers of their own. So the first step, then, is to fuck women out of careers. ...

China is in an equilibrium that it cannot coordinate to get out of: if you have a daughter, you don't want to invest in her when the norms are that her husband will provide for her / that she won't have a career after marriage. If you have a son, you need to to invest in him, because his marital/reproductive prospects aren't great unless he has a job, a car, and an internal passport that lets him live/work in a city, where he can have a future.

It might be a little unbelievable to you, that a country can just sacrifice half its population to stabilise the other half. ... China doesn’t pass laws or enforce laws to protect women for the same reason they don’t pass or enforce laws to protect sweat shop workers. China is competitive on the international stage precisely because it is willing to look the other way while you make a sweat shop of people work unpaid overtime 80 hours a week while you pay them a quarter of minimum wage and don’t give health insurance or retirement benefits. China is competitive on the international stage because it’s willing to look the other way while you dump industrial waste right into the ocean.

[writingcold]

Travel Blues

18+ only - minors move along

I debated posting this blurb up. I was inspired of packing for a get away with my husband, followed by @edgingthedarkness mirrored grief of going on a rather large holiday with her husband. For all of those who just love getting ready to go on a vacation, while their partner... well. You'll see.

Jake X Chris

Content warnings - this is an adult blurb - m/m interaction, oral, suggestions on other, more playful times.

I did try to edit this a bit - but it is rough, so pardon any errors or whatnots.

********

     “Babe!” 

     I cannot believe he’s calling me again to march my ass back upstairs when my bag is packed, has been packed, and waiting by the door since last night. The week has been a push pull of an argument of trying to get ready to go. We’d planned this little getaway months before and I thought, maybe foolishly that Jake could be the big boy that he is and have his shit together enough to not wait until four hours before we were to depart the house to get on a plane to go to where the beach was quiet, the water super blue and a suite that was drenched in privacy.

      “What is it this time?” I grumble up the stairs.

      “Passport - I can’t find my goddamn passp—”

      His words die as he takes in my very pissed off expression. “It’s been on the front of the fridge for two weeks. I’ve only been saying it daily for a week now.”

      God, I hate sounding like a bitch but honestly, the man was an infuriating bastard at times. I turn on my heel and try my hardest not to look at the tornado of clothes and toiletries and whatnots that have descended on our bedroom. I suppose I’d be the one to have to straighten it up after our return. I puff out my cheeks and start back down to double check that the guitar cases are in order and labeled correctly. I wasn’t even to the halfway mark before -

      “Babe!”

      “Are you fucking kidding me right now?!” I shout, turning to find him at the stop of the stairs.

      “Did I ever get that load out of the washer?”

      “Fuck if I know. Your laundry, not mine.”

      He throws me the cow eyes. The damn cow eyes that he knows I could never have the strength to say no to. Or at least that’s what he has made himself believe. I flip him off and continue down to my mission of checking airline tags once more - it would only be the fourth time in the last few hours. No - I am not obsessed. Really.

      He growls and thumps down the stairs like an angry teenager. I already know that his skivvies are in the dryer since I was the one that tossed them in there last night at about one in the morning after finding him on the phone talking on a group call with his parents and Josh. I knew he would forget. A happy sound of discovery comes from the laundry room. Moments later, he appears with a small bundle of boxer briefs and t-shirts in his arms. He skitters by me with a quick peck on the lips before heading back upstairs.

      “I don’t remember getting them into the dryer,” he’s saying as he disappears back up the stairs and into the bedroom.

      I notice that he also did not grab the passport from the fridge. My patients are hanging by a precarious thread. I drift in to get a glass of water and tuck the passport into my palm as his voice drifts down the stairs once more.

      “Do you think I should take the shorts or the speedo?” 

      I love this man. I do. 

      “Oh, did you get the fun… stuff?”

      My eyes squeeze shut against my will.

      “Hey - don’t mean to be a bother - but did you get the passports?”

      I don’t think I could drag enough breath into my lungs to keep myself from flying apart.

     “Hey, Babe? You didn’t happen to see that black hat, did you?”

     Could he be more vague - he only has like two dozen black hats.

     “Oh fuck - how can I be out of deodorant? Is there more in the cupboard?”

      Yup. Fuck my life. 

      “Where the hell is my black linen shirt?”

      I melt down into the chair. There are 145 minutes until the driver arrives to take us to the airport. This was not the first time traveling together, but I swear, the white knuckle race to get Jake ready to go anywhere is too much for my heart to take. I look at the front door once more - my bag, the guitar cases, my carryon that was mostly packed with his stuff. All of it ready. 

      Somehow, 45 minutes have passed. I must’ve drifted off into daydreams. I couldn’t hear anything going on upstairs. My hands come down on the arms of the chair and I am about to launch myself out of said chair to look for him, but a soft thump comes from the top of the stairs. I watch him wrestle his bag down the stairs as if he were a conquering hero. He hits the floor with another bump of the case and smiles that golden smile that makes me melt a little more each time. 

      How did he do that? He rolls the case to the door and looks at the tags with a satisfied nod like he was the one that had done all the work. I chew my tongue in hopes of not blowing the last gasket and landing us in a fight. This trip was just supposed to be about us. Not touring. Not mixing the album. Not the shows or fans. Not family or friends. Just us. He sheepishly makes his way to the kitchen, his eyes on the fridge.

      “Hey,” I say, holding up his passport.

      A grin of relief soothes over his moment of panic. He whispers something, but he’s too far away for me to hear. He brings his wrist up to make it obvious that he’s aware of the time and how much of it we have left. Those lips go from an innocent smile to something tinged a bit darker as he walks towards me.

      “Babe,” he says, the velvet of his rasp caught in my ears as his hands came down on mine.  “Can I show you that I’m sorry?”

       God, his voice hits me and my frame melts into the soft fabric of the chair that’s around me. “What do you have to be sorry for?”

       His fingers cradle my face as he bends down. “I know you have to put up with a lot when it comes to me.”

       His mouth hovers just over mine. I can already taste his tongue against mine as he looks at me, capturing all of my attention. He kisses me gently at first, but then demands that I open. He sucks on my tongue, grazing his teeth against it with a gentle moan.

      “Jake,” I whisper as lowers himself to his knees.

      He just smiles as he hooks his hands beneath my knees to pull me down a bit. Those strong fingers press into my thighs as the devil appears in his eyes. He undoes the belt and lowers my zipper, all the while, keeping his eyes on mine. Fucker. I can’t say no when that tongue peeks out to slide across his bottom lip. 

      “Let me just say thank you,” he says, his voice full of seduction. 

      I’m half hard as he pulls me from my briefs. “Jake.”

      “Chris.”

      My eyes roll closed as he pumps my cock a few times before drawing out my balls with his tongue. He is up on his knees over my prone body as he plunges my dick down his throat. My fingers thread through his thick hair, tugging it at the roots. My body floods with rapture as he twists his tongue and mouth around me just how I like and let out a loud groan. He moans while I’m buried deep and I feel the deep pulse within his mouth. He was working me hard and fast, seeking my cumshot to sear him. The sound of him working me is lush and sloppy as he squeezes my balls. I look at him just as he nibbles at the tip. Oh the things we would do on this vacation.

      He had asked if I had packed the ‘fun stuff’. What a question. I could hardly wait to have him bent with a plug in place and eating at his balls until he wept. Or to be buried, balls deep within that pillowy ass as I flicked at his lovely navy cockring. Oh my god - to have him eating my ass as I pumped myself hard? Making love to him every day for weeks… Yeah. This vacation was going to be for us. 

       Lost in my thoughts, I snap back as he sinks his teeth in at the base in a demand for my attention. Bastard. I grin as he hollows out his cheeks in a hard suck. My hips start to thrust at the sight of his swollen, cherry colored lips. It doesn’t take long, but it is loud as we work hard. I shoot my load hot and heavy down his throat and he coos against my skin with adoration.

      He kisses the tip of my rapidly softening cock. “Thank you, Chris.”

      “For what?” I ask, sleepily smoothing my fingers through his hair.

      “I know you put my clothes in the dryer, and had all of my shit right there where I could pack it,” he says as he tucked me back into my briefs. “I know everything that you do for me. So, thank you.”

       There is a knock on the door. Time was up. Time to head out. I kiss at his puffy mouth, grinning as I am already re-playing everything that was to come on this lovely, smutty vacation. 

[justinssportscorner]

Matt Gertz at MMFA:

American women covered their country in Olympic glory in Paris on Thursday. Katie Ledecky broke the record for most swimming medals won by a woman when the U.S. team captured silver in the 4x200-meter freestyle, while Simone Biles won gold in her second women’s gymnastics all-around Olympics event and her teammate Suni Lee took the bronze.  But on this side of the Atlantic, the American right was apparently more interested in bemoaning the purported death of women’s sports than cheering on their compatriots. The leading lights of the right-wing media spent Thursday melting down over an Olympics welterweight boxing match between two women from Algeria and Italy as they sought to drum up a ragefest they could use to firm up Donald Trump’s wavering election prospects against Vice President Kamala Harris.

Imane Khelif of Algeria won her Olympics boxing match against Italy’s Angela Carini when Carini forfeited after taking several blows to the face in the fight’s opening seconds (in boxing, for those unfamiliar with the sport, competitors try to hit each other in the head as hard as they can and can win by rendering their opponent unconscious). The U.S. right quickly seized on the match and plugged it into their obsessive anti-trans hysteria, falsely declaring Khelif a man who had beaten up a woman. 

If you want to know more about Khelif — a veteran of international women’s boxing competition who was eliminated in the quarterfinal round of the 2020 Tokyo Olympics and whose passport, from a country where you cannot legally change your gender, identifies her as female — read Paolo Armelli’s story on the controversy for Wired. If you are interested in the history of sports competitions grappling with complex questions about the gender and sex of athletes, my former colleague Parker Molloy wrote nuanced pieces on the subject for Vice News, CJR, and at her Substack. 

What was quite clear on Thursday, however, is that the weirdo right, obsessed with conducting bizarre “transvestigations,” doesn’t care about any of this. They simply want to misgender Khelif, invoke the rage associated with domestic violence by claiming she is a man punching a woman, and channel the resulting outrage and anti-trans hate into their own political gain.

A MAGA media frenzy quickly ensued on X after the match, with Riley Gaines, the right-wing activist who built her career complaining about trans women competing in sports, at the heart of the outburst.  [...]

This sustained freakout is a perfect example of how the right-wing media has become pickled in its own outrage. They simply cannot let themselves — or anyone else — enjoy good things that normal Americans enjoy, like the dominance of U.S. women at the Olympics. Instead, they build their audiences and make their money by constantly trying to find something they can get mad about. Being a right-winger in good standing in recent years has required working oneself into a culture war frenzy over the NFL, Budweiser beer, Disney movies, Beyoncé, and Taylor Swift, among other all-American icons.  [...]

“This is where Kamala Harris's ideas about gender lead: to a grown man pummeling a woman in a boxing match,” vice presidential nominee JD Vance posted to X on Thursday. “This is disgusting, and all of our leaders should condemn it.” His running mate — who a jury found liable for sexual abuse, and who was introduced at the Republican National Convention last month by a man who had been captured on video hitting his wife in the face — chimed in. “I WILL KEEP MEN OUT OF WOMEN’S SPORTS!” Trump posted to Truth Social.

Other Republican politicians, including Texas Gov. Greg Abbott; Reps. Lauren Boebert of Colorado, Anthony D’Esposito of New York, Greg Steube of Florida, and Mike Collins of Georgia; North Carolina gubernatorial nominee Mark Robinson and Senate nominees Hung Cao of Virginia and Kari Lake of Arizona also contributed to the sick debate.  Normal people are too busy cheering for American champions like Ledecky and Biles to spend their time doing chalkboard scrawls explaining how Kamala Harris should be blamed for who Algeria sends to the Olympics. But with Trump’s polling lead slipping away and his campaign apparently trying to reignite by focusing on what appeals to the party’s weirdo wing, we can expect much more of this in the months to come.

The right-wing Weirdo Caucus were big mad over two cisgender women boxers to push an anti-trans narrative, and as usual, the likes of anti-trans extremists such as J.K. Rowling, Riley Gaines, Charlie Kirk, and Clay Travis led the charge of faux outrage against Imane Khelif and Lin Yu-Ting’s participation in women’s boxing under the guise of “defending women’s sports.”

See Also:

Awful Announcing: Predictably, the Olympics are bringing out the worst in us

The Advocate: Attacks on Imane Khelif prove what we've long known: Transphobia hurts cis women, too

Out: The transphobia Imane Khelif is experiencing isn't new—it's part of a disturbing, hateful pattern

[edenvinity]

ranking the f1 driver pairings as amazing race teams

me and my family have been watching amazing race for years so you KNOW i had to combine my interests !!!

amazing race is basically a show where teams of two race all around the world and preform a series of challenges rhat can range from physical to more mental, and the team that reaches the “pit stop” last is eliminated. plane flights + transportation around the country is also often up to the teams, having to buy their own plane tickets + hailing their own taxis + driving themselves around a country which works against one team dominance

KEY:

detour - teams can choose to complete one of two challenges

roadblock - one person in the team completes a challenge (one person cannot do every roadblock)

express pass - by doing an extra challenge, one team can get this pass that allows them to skip any one challenge

teams are ranked based on how far i think they would make it in a fictional all-f1 season of amazing race :)

10. pierre & esteban

sorry you KNOW they would be a dumpster fire. like the couples who go on and are like “i love my partner so much :))” and then immediately implode the second aomething goes wrong. would start off polite enough before the first detour where one of them is like mildly slow and the bickering starts. they would start rushing in an attempt to catch up and leave an important item behind (passports, clue, etc) and thats just the nail in the coffin for them

9. lance & fernando

tbh i could see them making it maybe 1 or 2 legs more depending on the challenge but. nothing against lance but hes a rich kid. the challenge would be like “find all the items on this shopping list at a wet market” and hes LOST. fernando gets 3/4 of the list AND has to find lance who is desperately looking for duck eggs (it was at the first stall) and then they get back and lance bought regular eggs anyways for a massively jacked up price. sorry but as entertaining as it would be they are doomed to flop

8. alex & logan

SORRY WILLIAMS BESTIES they would be such a silly team and fan favorites but respectfully i dont see them being very good 🥲 i think they would have a very good dynamic but other then that based on the pumpkin carving/drawing challenges,,,, they would not go far 😭 they would get a challenge to deliver something to several different locations (without map) and eventually get lost and be so far behind that when they get to the mat its like. nighttime. but they would be very cheesed and happy still !!

7. yuki & daniel

THE FUNNIEST PAIR EVER can you IMAGINE the dynamic when trying to navigate or drive a stick shift car. one of the friendlier pairs, willing to help point other teams in the right direction at challenges. also between the two of them they have a pretty decent skill set so i think theyd do pretty well at the challenges, plus be able to get around the city well enough. theyd eventually go out on a leg w more physical challenges just by virtue of the remaining teams being better but they have SO MUCH FUN and SO MUCH banter

6. kevin & nico

solid guys overall !! could see them maybe making it another leg further over the next team. definitely one of the most chill teams, sightseeing/enjoying the travels more (not to say that they arent competitive tho) and overall having a great time !! i think their experience with raising children would also factor in well (patience/calmness) and thus would keep them from making little mistakes and stay consistent. would eventually go out in a leg where they start from a lower spot and cant manage to find any earlier trains/flights and thus cant make up any ground and end up going out

5. lando & oscar

they are the most unstable team LMAO they (lando) always take big gambles with challenges to try and get ahead and as such always end up gaining/dropping tons of places in each leg. impeccable dynamic tho !! oscar is def the grounding force and keeps them on track, navigator to landos driver, while landos creative strategies often help them gain places where they might otherwise be stagnant. would eventually go out on a leg where lando insists on trying to catch an earlier train but ends up missing the connector to their destination (setting them back) and they cant catch up, eventually resulting in their elimination

4. valterri & zhou

i actually cant really explain this one guys its just a gut feeling. like i know that valterri is reasonably fit from biking a lot and zhou could help them get around more reliably in asian countries but other then that i dont have an explanation. theyre chill and like just kind of cruising/enjoying themselves. theres a roadblock where they have to name several different types of beer by taste and valterri crushes it. theres a challenge where its watching this person dancing and having to recreate the entire outfit that zhou kills. they go out right before the final because theyre beaten in a footrace to the mat

3. lewis & george

these guys are EFFICIENT. lewis somehow manages to get them on the earliest flights possible. george reads the map once and immediately find the fastest routes from place to place. they are reasonably good at most challenges. their downfall is challenges requiring them to work together closely, which happens in the final where they are required to learn a traditional wedding dance and preform it and they just cant sync up, costing them major time, and the entire experience just leaves them irritable which eventually leads to them claiming third

2. max & checo

similarly to lando & oscar, max is the competitive force with checo grounding their team. highly competitive (though not to say they dont enjoy themselves), always going for express passes and valuing efficiency. their strategy works for the most part, with them racking up the most leg wins. their downfall ultimately came during the final challenge, where they had to match moments from previous legs with their locations, and neither of them really remember LMAO. just barely misses out on first which goes to…

1. charles & carlos

impeccable dynamic. gets one express pass and uses it strategically. very supportive of each other during challenges. they are just a generally overall solid team but not outstanding, never really winning and just beats out valterri/zhou for the third spot in the final. but in the final leg they are just incredibly in sync which allows them to complete the challenges efficiently, and at the end challenge they have memories tied to each place and are able to figure it out faster then max/checo and beat them to the mat to take the win !!!

okay thanks for listening to my rambles ☺️ maybe a part two of this later ranking old driver pairs OR an f1/survivor ranking

[oumaheroes]

Congrats for the 1000 followers! :D You and your fics are such a blessing to this fandom

If I'm not mistaken, one of your answers said about the brit bros getting drunk and ends up in Wales' garden but Wales himself nowhere to be seen? O.o My mind went to that news about a drunk Welshman swimming across the hoover dam (I know it happened in the U.S but still) and your answer makes me very curious. Where he disappeared to? To the comfort of his own room or is he outside doing God-knows-what? I need some answers, please.

Thank you so much, @notnobleone! And I did say that, you're right! They go out drinking, Ireland ends up passed out in Wales' garden bushes, England's missing his shoes or something sat stupid on the doorstep, and Scotland's been trying to drunkenly unpick the door all night long. And Wales, the homeowner?

Wales is nowhere to be seen

And you know what? I spent hours looking for that post to link this to and I CANNOT find it; your memory is incredible! I don't even know how far back I wrote that!

Here are the answers you seek, just for you and your lovely brain ❤️

----------------------

Jail Break

Wales emerged into the Police Station waiting room behind a very stern looking young constable, overdressed for the weather in a long-sleeve t-shirt and jeans. The constable looked away when Wales tried to smile at him in thanks, his mouth a disapproving hard line before he began to read him his exit procedure.

Wales was mostly presentable looking from his brief stay in the cells, despite wearing only last night’s clothes, and the only real sign that anything was amiss was that he was alarmingly more rumpled that Belgium had had reason to see him in years- hair all angles, dark circles under his eyes, and a curious amount mud around his hems.

He smiled at her once he caught her eye, giving her a small nod, ‘Hello, Marie.’

‘Rhys.’ Belgium smiled to the constable as Wales came closer and motioned with her arm towards the door, ‘After you.’

‘No forms to fill out?’

‘Already done.’

‘You’re a treasure.’

Belgium smiled, ‘I know.’

Outside, Wales blinking gritty eyes in the bright midday sunshine, Belgium took the arm he offered her and began to lead him forwards through to the centre of Brussels.

‘I’m so sorry about this.’

‘Don’t be.’ She squeezed his arm, ‘Was exciting. I’ve not been woken up by a call from the police in a good few decades.’

‘Francis?’

‘Lars.’

Wales raised his eyebrows but didn’t enquire further, ‘Were you asleep?’

‘Most people are at six in the morning.’

‘Six.' Wales rubbed his eyes, ‘Lord. I don’t even remember twelve in the morning. I'm surprised I remembered your land-line number.'

'You didn't. The police picked you up stumbling about outside the train station. You told them my name and I'm known enough by a few authority figures for them to make the connection.'

Wales held a hand over his eyes and sighed something in Welsh that sounded offensive. 'I won't ask you to keep that between us; it's too good not to share.'

Belgium watched him run his tongue across his lips, looking sheepish and uncomfortable, for long enough to make the early wake up worth it, and then took pity on him. She dug about in her handbag and handed him a fresh bottle of water. ‘Here.’

‘Ta.’ He took a long drink. 'You'd think I'd learn by now not to mix hops and grapes.'

‘I wanted to come and get you earlier,' Belgium told him, 'but there was some hassle with border control. They were a bit concerned that you’d managed to get through border control without a passport and it took a while to get them to drop it.’

Wales capped the bottle and shook his head helplessly. ‘I can’t tell you how. Didn't even have one when out.’

‘Yes, I thought that. Why would you ever carry a one at all.'

They fell silent as they came to a crowded crossing. The press of human bodies that close was a bit too warm even for Belgium in her summer dress and sunhat. She could only imagine how Wales felt, dressed for a presumably Welsh summer evening and legs stuck in thick denim.

‘Where are we going?’ Wales asked as they began moving again, across the road and then down a cobbled side street further into the heart of the historical part of town.

‘Home.’

‘Oh no,’ Wales looked horrified, ‘No love, you don’t have to do that. I’ll take myself home; get out of your hair.’

‘No offense, but you do need a bath-‘ Wales winced, ‘and I’d rather you leave my lands in decent condition, at least. Despite the inelegant arrival.’

Wales laughed awkwardly, ‘That’s fair enough.’

‘So, come on then.’ Belgium tugged his arm again, ‘Tell me. Consider it payment,’ she said as Wales made a face, ‘For breaking you out of jail.’

‘Like a hoodlum.’

‘Like a hoodlum.’

Wales let out a breath of air, ‘I do wish I could tell you. I’m not sure what happened, honestly. We were-‘

‘-out in Cardiff?’

‘Bristol.’

‘Oh.’

‘We all took trains there; none of us could have driven home again, of course. I remember being in a pub and then-‘ Wales waved a hand, ‘bit and pieces in between. I remember the train seats, oddly enough, because they looked like the material of one of Alisdair’s shirts, you know those really ugly ones that he has-‘

‘Oh I love those. The terrible retro 80’s ones.’

‘Hideous things, absolute disgrace. But anyway, I remember the chairs, and I remember being at a station. I think Patrick was there, or maybe all of them were...’

He trailed off, thoughtful, ‘Actually, now that I think about it, I think Patrick put me on the train. He told me the platform and was there when I went through the gate, at least. How the fuck I didn’t realise I was going to London, I’ll never know. Then the Eurostar? Maybe night ferry? I would have had to have got the Tube to get that line, somehow, and I couldn’t have been in any fit state to-‘

He stopped, cheeks pinking.

‘Why were you in Bristol?’ Belgium asked, taking pity on him.

‘Arthur’s turn to pick the place we went. Bastard chose the nearest city to my house though, presumably knowing that I’d host rather than us needing to get a hotel or travel far back again.’

‘I’m surprised you let him.’

‘He said London’s too expensive.’

‘Still.’

Wales shrugged, ‘It is too expensive.’

Down another street, the smell of chocolate shops with their wide open doors and windows making the heavy air sickly. Wales took another sip of water. ‘So, Bristol it was.'

'And they just left you alone.'

'I'm starting to think it was more a planned abandonment.'

It took Belgium a considerable amount determination not to show her amusement openly. 'I'm sure they didn't know you'd end up in Brussels.'

'No,' Wales acknowledged gracefully with a rueful smile, 'That little mess is all my own.'

'I'd say safely making your way through several different transport methods and customs to illegally slip into the European Union is a decent achievement. I really hope you remember how you did it, the government won't like that gap sitting about.'

'I'm very sure I couldn't have done it any way other than by being far too drunk for sense. And maybe with a dash of fraternal vendetta.'

Belgium laughed, 'Well. Lucky you because now you can spend your day here with me instead of waking up with them.'

'Lucky me too,' Wales patted his pocket with a grin, 'Because I've still got my house keys with me.'

---------------

AN: This fic was written in honour of the many Brits who get drunk and end up wandering about in Europe with no memory of how they got there, like Switzerland, Spain, the Netherlands, France... it's common