#1 thing you can do to be a better driver is to be at peace with going the wrong direction for a little while.
like it is not the end of the world if you miss your turn. all the roads are connected to all the other roads. you will find your way very quickly.
unless you're experiencing a genuine emergency, dont even think about making a sudden movement, ESPECIALLY across one or more lanes, just to avoid missing a turn
just relax. be at peace with the way the universe has led you. who knows you might discover something you never would have seen, like a nice restaraunt or a park you didn't know about. just. fucking relax
The best driving advice I ever got was "you get there when you get there."
Miss a turn? It's okay. You get there when you get there.
Left the house late? Nothing you can do about it now. You get there when you get there.
Stopped by a train, or an accident on the highway? It's out of your hands. You get there when you get there.
I know all of these things can be anxiety-inducing. But by the time you're in the car experiencing them, no crazy maneuver will make a meaningful difference in the time it takes to get where you're going, and that maneuver will be at the cost of your safety and others.
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still insane to me that nipples are a "Scary Body Part" that needs to be secret and hidden at all costs. but only if you're part of the population of people with a certain gender presentation. it baffles me. and this is just normal somehow
thinking about that extremely feminine drag queen (a cisgender man in this specific case) whose nipples were blurred on TV. obviously this post is moreso about women but just as an example of the absurdity of it all. if you present too femininely suddenly an entire normal body part of yours becomes obscene. it's crazy it's crazy it's crazy it's crazy. what the fuck is a "female presenting nipple" I feel like I'm going insane. it's just nipples. why are we scared of nipples.
anyone who is visibly deviant from what people expect a cisgender man to look like is unsafe if they just want to be shirtless at the beach. cis women. trans women. trans men. all sorts of nonbinary people. anyone who has been on estrogen for a period of time. a lot of intersex people. a lot of cis men with hormone imbalances. the list goes ON. why is it only acceptable for one specific subset of humans to be shirtless in public! fuck!!!
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Current twitter drama is Europeans confidently declaring that they don't need to drive or use overpriced public transport to get to the MetLife stadium for the World Cup; they will simply walk down the highway to get there. Girl it's New Jersey. They're gonna splatter you for fun.
If you manage to get on the turnpike before the cops stop you, a soccer mom is gonna do the Jersey slide in a RAV4 and turn your entire group into a wet speedbump
there should be a such thing as a medical detective. you should be able to hire a doctor to figure out what the fuck is going on with you come hell or high water by consulting whatever specialists they can get their hands on, connecting your constellation of symptoms, etc, instead of 10000 different doctors for every distinct bone in ur body that all just kinda go "dang that sucks idk" when you present with more than one fucking symptom
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so uh i have read too much batfam fic in the past couple months and i've been smacked in the face with a de-aged dick grayson fic idea of my very own. oops. (i also spent arguably too much time on canva last night working on this moodboard-esque cover art but i'm loving it.)
Bounce Back (just like your trampoline), Chapter 1
While on patrol one evening, Dick is struck by magic that de-ages him to a transitory time in his life—nine years old, freshly orphaned, and taken under Bruce Wayne’s wing.
Somehow, several people including Dick come to the conclusion that Jason is—again, somehow—a good caretaker for the kid.
AKA Jason likes kids and this apparently translates to Dick attaching to his side like a gangly koala.
AKA Jason is going to take this opportunity to force the rest of his family to do some emotional labour for once.
Now, if only he could convince the kid to eat something.
featuring brothers being brothers, some meandering POVs, a very background case, and some jason-typical language
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snippet from chapter 3
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Dick goes stiff. “You’re… leaving?”
“Dickie, weren’t you the one just complaining about having stuff to do? I do too, kid.” Jason’s already planned through the rest of his evening. It starts with driving Dick’s car back to Blüdhaven to rescue his bike, ends hours after midnight, and hopefully includes the chance to beat up some shitty people in grungy alleys.
Dick being tiny is throwing him off his stride; he wants something simple and familiar. Reigniting the fear of himself in a few easy creeps will more than suffice.
“Can’t you stay?” the kid asks, gazing up with eyes that could turn wet at any second. “Just… At least for dinner?”
“You plannin’ to protect me from the baby bat then? He’s gonna look for somebody to blame for this happening to you, Dickie. Even if it wasn’t nobody’s fault but that magician’s.”
“Yeah! Course I will! You’re my little brother, I’ll always- I wanna protect you whenever I can.”
There’s an odd note in Dick’s voice, but Jason just sighs and lets him keep it to himself. “Alright kid, I’ll stay—and I’m counting on that protection, got it?”
Dick nods furiously and reaches for another grape, and Jason glances over to Alfred to find him already looking back.
“I’m always happy to set another place at the table,” Alfred says softly. Jason ducks his head, and the older man rests a hand on his shoulder. “I’ll be off shortly to retrieve Master Damian from school. Dinner shall be at 7, so do refrain from snacking too much more, and please restrain yourselves from wrestling in the halls or swinging from any chandeliers while I am gone.”
Dick huffs and rolls his eyes, taking offence. “The chandeliers can take it,” he mutters.
“Not today they won’t,” Alfred says sharply. “You may use the gym for acrobatics, Master Dick. It has been built to handle swinging and leaping of all kinds.”
Tim goes shy. “I, uh. Did… get a case. And, I mean, Alfred has a pile of phone cases Dick can choose from if he wants, but I just- I saw this design, and…”
“Well, let’s see the fuckin’ thing, Timbit.”
“I figured he might like it, is all.”
“Hand it over, overthinker.” Jason holds out a hand. Tim offers a dark phone case, rolling his eyes and muttering as he does, the gremlin.
The way he passes it over forces Jason to flip it himself to actually see the design, and yeah. Yeah, he can see Dickie liking it—he can see him liking it enough to insist on holding onto it after he’s back to himself.
The background is smooth grey, but there’s an offset stack of rainbow bat symbols in the middle of it.
“That’s fucking… Nightwing blue,” is the first thing Jason says. He squints at the case, even brings it up to his face to look at the colours close up. “And Robin red, yellow, and green. D’you think it’s goddamn eggplant purple, too?!”
Tim is already nodding. “Same colour as the Spoiler designs on the Batcomputer, yeah. I checked.”
It’s got their family’s colours, and it’s a rainbow? “Yeah, I think he’ll like it.” Jason snaps the case onto the phone. “Hey, thanks, Timmers. This was a good idea.”
Bounce Back (just like your trampoline), Chapter 7
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Love the idea that the rest of the batfam never knows what to expect with Cass and Dick. Monday they're a united eldest sibling front against Bruce's nonsense. Tuesday Cass walks into the cave and decks Dick in the face for reasons unknown to everyone else. Wednesday she's crying and he's comforting her. Thursday he's grumbling to Tim, Duke and Damian about how he can't be the only good older sibling example and it's not fucking fair that she gets away with all the bullshit she does. Friday they're back to being a united front against Bruce, who they've decided is the root of all their issues. Saturday they're sparring but it's so intense half the family wonder if they're fighting for real again. Sunday they work like a well oiled machine and solve 23 cases in one night. Monday the cycle repeats.
Bruce: Why do I color code things? I have seven children who were all raised as only children before I got them. If I don't keep multiples of everything and color code them so thoroughly it's immediately obvious with a single glance what belongs to who, they start trying to kill each other.
It was Jason's color first. It was always only Jason's. The kids pick their color when he takes them in. The issue has been there since he decided to give Dick "Only Child For 17 Years" Grayson a little brother. Giving them their own things in their own colors stopped arguments and helped reassure Dick that he was not being ousted or replaced, he still had his own things and a home there and Jason that he was safe and could have things of his own all to himself that no one could or would take from him. Aything blue was and is Dick's, period. Anything red was and is Jason's, period. When Jason died, red didn't stop being his color. Red meant Jason. That was his color. Letting another kid have Jason's color would have felt wrong. Would have felt like Bruce was trying to replace him. He could never. Nobody is Red but Jason.
Even when Jason was dead, Bruce had a habit of buying an extra everything in red. It looked wrong to see all the other colors, but not Jason's.
