#pmts

[hyakunana]

"I am Neon Kurama… Kamen Rider Naago!"

[gavonosc]

X3 baka

[nflballgirl]

[deadchannelradio]

i'm cutting roy out of every story i got him in with jason sorry jayroy stans i still believe in the joyfire dick grayson emotional thunderdome he just doesnt belong in the architecture i am crafting for jasons life nor does Jason belong in his. roy has his own life that is largely batboy free other than Being Weird With And About Dick Grayson. as such jasons stupid little dog Princess Monster Truck's inception (she is staying forever, but this particular inception is going away) i noodled at the beginning of is being put in the trash compactor to die forever. crunch crunch. so you can have it here instead. in my fanfiction abortion morgue.

“Laurie wants me to get a dog,” Jason says as Roy walks in the door, foregoing a ‘hello’ or an ‘I missed you’ or a ‘was the mission fun? It looked like you had fun when you shot the enormous bird-thing in the back of the neck with an explosive arrow and blew its head clean off’. He’s scrubbing a very clean pot with the maniacal focus of a man on the brink, up to his elbows with suds. 

Roy sets his bag down on the floor and tosses his jacket on the chair beside the door, toeing his shoes off. Jason points at the jacket without looking. “Do I look like your maid?” he asks. “Pick it up.”

“I would be a very happy man if you did,” Roy says, briefly transported to a world of short skirts and little aprons. He shakes himself off, then hangs his coat up properly before Jason gives in to the conniptions that are clearly bubbling under the surface. “Hi honey, I’m home, I missed you, we’re getting a dog?”

“Laurie wants me to get a dog,” Jason repeats darkly. They don’t talk all that much about Jason’s therapist or what he does in therapy, but all her best ideas that Roy’s heard about- starting prozac, getting an apartment and living in it full time instead of a rotating to a new squat every couple of weeks- have been accompanied by this tone of voice. “I shouldn’t get a dog.”

“Why the hell not?” Roy asks, coming up behind him to kiss the back of his neck and wind his arms around Jason’s waist, his shirt damp with dishwater. Jason backs up from the sink slightly to give him room, but doesn’t stop washing the soup pot. “You’re an adult. You have adult money and adult time. We can get a dog.” Roy likes dogs, conceptually. He hasn’t ever owned one long-term, but he enjoys them walking down the street and tied up outside of little coffee shops, and Haley and him hang out when Dick goes out of town and Barbara is unavailable to spend time with her dog-goddaughter. 

“I’m a felon,” Jason points out.

“Do no felons have dogs?”

“No good dog owners are felons.”

“Do you personally know every felon with a dog?”

“What if I have to go on the run again? Or something happens and I can’t take care of a dog?” The sound of the steel wool on metal is getting more grating by the second. “What if someone finds the apartment? Or-,”

“How many of these did you bring up with Laurie that she didn’t have a response for?”

Jason does not have an answer to that, given his silence and aggressive increase of scrubbing. Roy bites his shoulder until Jason flails a wet hand up into his hair and pulls him off, accidentally beaning him in the face with a soapy lump of steel wool. They’re totally getting a dog.

“We’re not applying for anything,” Jason says a few days later, tucking himself into a black jacket and grey scarf that he’s wrapping practically up to his ears. “I don't need a dog. This is a free zoo. We’re just looking.” 

“Of course,” Roy says, pulling on gloves and smiling serenely at the dog filled future yawning open before him. Jason gives him a suspicious squint, intensity ruined by the way that his knit hat is pushing his hair in every direction like a smacked dandelion. In spite of his claims, Jason is visibly nervous the entire monorail ride to the ASPCA, jaw clenched and tunneling into his coat like a turtle. Roy links their elbows as casually as he can when he has to pry Jason’s arm away from his body and scrolls his phone mindlessly. He’s been having visions of dog ownership- flyball, bitesports, long morning jogs with a scruffy heeler or blocky bully breed, agility classes and obedience courses. Admittedly, Roy knows very little about most of these things, but he’s willing to learn. 

Gotham ASPCA’s dog kennel contains pit mixes by majority, most rather unhelpfully labeled as lab or hound mutts, fooling absolutely no one beyond maybe a few landlords. The worker- Safia, on her name tag- who’s leading them around is looking at Jason out of the corner of her eye, as visibly nervous as Roy knows Jason is. He doesn’t look it, a hulking, silent presence over Roy’s shoulder, communicating with Roy mostly by eye contact and shifts in his stance. The biggest scar on his face lifts his upper lip in an accidental snarl, showing teeth, and his winter layers don’t make him any less bulky. She’s trying, at least, in that way that people do when they know they’re making a rude judgment based on little evidence but can’t stop themselves from feeling it. Roy’s sure that Jason isn’t picking up on that, though, just that he’s making her uncomfortable.  Roy puts a hand on the small of Jason’s back as they look at a lanky, blonde shepherd named Snuggles Friday, and Roy watches Safia relax by a few degrees. Friday licks at Jason’s hand through the wires as Safia talks about her, whining, her ears so huge they flop over for a second when she shakes her head. Jason’s fighting a smile. Roy gives Safia a conspiratorially hopeful grin and crosses his fingers, startling a real smile out of her. 

“I think all of our play rooms are occupied at the moment,” Safia says apologetically. “But I have a few more dogs I think would be a good fit for you if you want to look around and then decide who you want some time with?”

Roy looks at Jason, who shrugs, which is probably as good as they’re going to get right now. Friday is still licking his fingers enthusiastically, and Jason pulls away with some reluctance as they move along. 

He stops a few steps later, so abruptly that Roy walks into his back. 

Someone has accidentally left a swiffer duster in the kennel in front of them. It’s barking, a high and snappy thing, and it’s doing a little dance on its tiny feet, like it’s tip toeing in place. Its eyes are unsettlingly large. Roy laughs, looks over at Jason to make a joke about how it’s just not a dog if you can use it like a football, stops. Jason’s fists are clenched by his sides, his face going slowly red.

“That,” he growls through gritted teeth, “is the cutest fucking thing I have ever seen.”

Roy sends a mental goodbye note to Snuggles Friday. “That’s Caramel,” Safia says as Jason speed-reads the note attached to her kennel with the clinical efficiency usually given to an autopsy report. He drops to his knees, pauses, then gingerly presses a hand against the wire as though he’ll break it. Caramel leaves off the barking and begins licking Jason’s hand like it’s the last scoop of ice cream in the truck on a 100 degree day. Its hind end seems to be undergoing a seismic event.

[doesnotloveyou]

I love it when an actor knows he can make other cast members crack, and you can see them painfully trying to stay in character.

[tbalderdash-art-blog]

Started this while having some sad ace alienation feelings combined with the ennui from not seeing enough birds. Didn't know International Asexuality Day is on the 6th, so tomorrow we're turning that frown upside-down :)

[f1rewalk3r]

okay so i was trying to do pact book club with my roommate b4 we had a falling out (unrelated) and i have cool Pact Motorcycle Analysis from rereading chapter one. (see below)

PMT “set [their bike] on the lawn, leaning against the inside of the fence.” leaning is the key word here. why are they leaning the bike on the fence? does it not have a kickstand? most street bikes have kickstands. the only ones that don’t are for extreme motorcross, not street legal, and built solely for dirt. So it would look something like this:

worth noting that this is a KTM 300 which is really nice and PMT's bike is "...about the shittiest, smallest, cheapest bike ever, and it’s used..." so assume much smaller and shittier then this one. But also, please note: No kick stand, and especially nothing that makes it street legal (plates, headlight, taillight, signals, mirrors) Okay, so what? Well, PMT then begins "...Unlocking and lifting the seat of the motorcycle, [to] retrieve the shirt [they] had stowed away..." These hardcore enduros, and even most sport, naked, and cruisers Do Not have under seat storage, especially locking under seat storage. The only thing that does? Scooters.

Eat your heart out, taylor hebert.

Brief Side Notes here: While our protaganist is referred to as Blake in this chapter, we can assume this is world-editing fuckery, given the snip doesn't happen until 4mo later with Molly's death. Also, we do see them mention a helmet. However, they are also wearing paint covered "...jeans, the lap striped with narrow streaks in various colors." This means that either PMT doesn't wear gear (squid status confirmed) or they wear armored jeans around regularly to the point of getting paint on them from the Toronto artists/dykes.

Later on in the chapter, though, the bike has been "Tipped over in a way that had scraped it hard against the stone wall. Headlight and taillight broken." So it does have lights, and is thus street legal. In conclusion: Given the text in this chapter, we can assume the PMT/Blake's bike is either 1) a plated, street-legal converted dirtbike with no kickstand (It is mentioned as leaning against the fence twice, proving "Leaning" is a deliberate choice) and the seat thing is a continuity error. or 2) the bike is a shitty scooter with no kickstand. or 3) the kickstand AND seat are both continuity errors and blake rides an older model cruiser (my personal HC given. Everything about PMT)

See the storage saddlebags BESIDES the seat, not below. So yeah. Either the bike is a magic fiction model macguffin that doesn't exist and just does whatever it needs for narrative purposes. OR (more likely) Wildbow just doesn't know how to write bikes.

Thanks for reading. Follow for more Pact Motorcycle Analysis.

[stardustweare88]

Have you seen this? https://www.theguardian.com/film/2025/apr/29/miami-vice-new-movie

Hey :) No,actually not,thanks!

I checked Don Johnson's instagram but he doesn't seem to be involved. I don't care for the 2006 movie so if it's yet another cast again i'm not interested,give me the nostalgia lol

It was sweet of you to think of me ^^ :*

[skin-slave]

Hey uhm is there a word for I'm cool with my agab it doesn't bother me and I like a lot of the trappings but also I like a lot of the other trappings and I really get a kick out of ppl using other pronouns for me and some gender envy sometimes, but for other genders and my agab?

[fire-lord-katara]

I know that I'm about to get my period bc today I cried while listening to Chiquitita by ABBA

[lakesbian]

tulip-lake situation is an entirely different narrative Thing than blake and rose and also 'world's first divorced twins who aren't related and were never married' is not a dynamic that arises outside of whatever the fuck they have going on in pact which is to say i cannot imagine a blake-and-rose-go-to-the-train scenario wherein they're not just, like, a regular 2-in-1 passenger deal. blake was the one who actually decided to get on the train and rose is still mad about it so she's passive aggressively making him do every single difficult car. idont know anything about being a system so if there's a better idea someone tell me. but i am nigh entirely certain if you just ctrl c ctrl v their canon dynamic sans the urban fantasy elements we have a 10/10 hilarious new Situation to put those bitches in. theyre still arguing about whose problem the number is for to this day

[bandhyukoh]

240427 P.M.T (with Inwoo and Donggun) @ KT&G Sang Sang Festival

[f1rewalk3r]

i refuse to let this stay in the comments of my post because it’s gold and also i do want to make a Blake Bike Post

so for the eggheads again: squid is a colloquialism that has no definitive definition but generally refers to a young, cocky rider who overestimates his own skill, usually wearing less gear then necessary, often resulting in horrific injury when the inevitable crash comes. (when, not if.)

(more analysis below)

we know Pre-Meiosis Thorburn has both blake and rose’s traits, so thus we can reconstruct the type of rider they are.

given Blake is propositioned to a threesome with two of the extremely hot girls in his friend group, we know that PMT was embroiled in some serious hardcore dyke shit. (this is assuming PMT is some form of queer, because duh.)

now, ahem, i will draw on /personal anecdote/ to assert that what the queers like about motorcycle dyke is the heavy gear look. sidenote that brian got this right and tayor is insane for never conciously noticing noticing. so i’m definitely assuming PMT is a AGATT (all gear all the time) rider. this also depends in the type of bike PMT/Blake rides- given toronto we could assume sportbike but given PMT queerness and Blake’s general Blakeisms it’s possible that they would ride a cruiser. A Harley-Davidson, even. really reclaim that personal freedom post cult by buying into the HD cult. plus the tattoo style (which i would describe as vaguely neo-american traditional) also gives creedence to the cruiser styling.

Post-Meiosis tho?

Rose got the smarts. Which we can assume is also the part of the PMT that got the “mmm wearing gear is sexy and will prevent me from Dying Horrifically.” (this has many implications for her sex life with whatshisname.

Blake is Textually Suicidally Reckless and thus sees any form of protective equipment as a Barrier between Him and the Freedom that comes from flying down the road. He’s always boasting about his bike (valid) his skills (pop off) and how Amazing it is to ride (king). he also decides to take it out in the battle for toronto. in the snow. this is generally a Bad Fucking Idea. but as this genius comment says- he’s a squid and doesn’t fucking Care.

[doesnotloveyou]

s04ep15 "indian wars" is a prime example of when miami vice gets really frustrating. they've got main characters standing at the edges of the scenes with nothing to do. trudy, gina, switek, are lucky if they have one line or one action. in one scene, olivia brown behaves like she's modeling for a magazine shoot except no one is looking at her

trudy's primary duties have always been, but are now explicitly, fetching faxes and making phonecalls (secretary). many of gina's shots are from behind her head so you can't even see saundra's face. it's like someone said "we need all the actors on screen" but then no one wrote anything for them to do. they used to, since it's an office, be at their own desks working on their own cases instead of all clustered in one spot and on one case. i get that it became the don johnson show, but even then could you at least have him interact with the other characters in the scene? like he used to?

anyway, good on john diehl for leaving in s3 bc they all deserved better

[mizu-schizo-dog]

High-voltage power supply i made, XP2012 Photomultiplier tube, and HVS coax. I'm bout to be countin these photons 😎

(go ahead and ask questions if you're interested ^^)

[heart-shaped-pupa]

Blake as a name meaning pale white and also black always suggested to me that it was the result of his name being Destroyed by the barber, especially how the sphinx highlights how it is tied to duality because of the black/white nature, and pre-haircut they didn't have much of a tie to duality really. This is also mainly to support that I think the original had a bird name; Robin or Jay or something