#I ought to finish that lineup I started

[kingmakerpod]

An official design for Mirielle Lavigne for Trans Day of Visibility.

[awriternamedart]

“I'd thought you'd continue to avoid me. This rapid change in behavior is rather annoying, you know.”

Ryuji settled for glaring at the guy, not missing the way Akechi’s lips curled up at the sight. There seemed to be little to no end to their bickering, but Akechi assumed it was for the best.

To avoid meaningless conversation would be preferable. There was no need to compromise their mission sooner.

Which is why he was caught off guard when Skull had practically taken him by the arm and dragged him off during a recon meeting at the Palace entrance. So far, he had been one of the more.. agitated of the group, though he supposed that was to be expected. Kurusu’s right hand was an unwaveringly loyal dog.

Taking in a frustrated sigh, Akechi grimaced.

“Look, if Joker has put you up to this, we will drop it. I have no interest-”

“Akira didn't put me up for shit. ‘M doin this on my own, asshole.” Skull butted in immediately, slouching against the hedges. He seemed to scoff at the idea, almost. “He ain't like that. He'd talk to you himself.”

“Oh, I am fully aware of that.” Crow found himself acting haughty- it was one of the best ways to get under Skull’s skin. Not that it was hard to do, but his bursts of quick anger were quite refreshing. “But we really ought not waste meaningless time. We-”

“Oh, shut up, will ya? ‘M tryna apologize, damnit!”

..it was rare that someone other than Akira caught Akechi off guard.

“...excuse me?”

“Ugh- look, ok. Don't take this as me forgivin you or some bullshit like that.” Pushing off the hedge, Skull came around to face Crow, arms folded. “Knowin what you did to Futaba, Haru, and Akira? Like hell I'm ever forgivin you. But..”

He roughly scratched at his skull, grumbling.

“..Ya didn't feel like ya had a choice, didya.”

Akechi found himself momentarily stunned into silence.

“...how much did he tell you.”

“Hm? Who, Kira? Not much, nothin, actually. All I really know is he called me up after we took down that bastard and..” Something seemed to soften in Ryuji, the tenseness in his shoulders dying slightly as brown eyes sent a glance towards the leader of this ragtag band- one that he missed being sent back as he looked towards Akechi again. “..he mourned you, yknow.”

..what?

“...mourned?”

“Ya disappeared. Never showed up after Shido’s Palace was sent crashin. We all thought ya were.. yknow. We all kinda mourned you- I.. well, at least we regretted not turnin ‘round to save you.”

It took a few moments for the laughter to bubble up in Akechi’s throat.

“You?! Mourning me?!” How absurd!! These fools, mourning him?! He had betrayed them, attempted to trick them, pulled the trigger on two of their parents-!! And these fools mourned him?! “Don't try to coerce me with those pathetic lies! How could you even dream of mourning someone who played you from the start?!”

“Oh, shut up already!!” Skull's shout drew everyone's attention- anger scribbled across his tone in jagged strokes. Hands took Akechi’s shirt, dragging him forward in his anger so they were face to face- It took him two seconds to drop his voice as Akechi's crazed laughter was cut short. “You bastard- I watched him cry for you, and you fuckin laugh?!”

A sneer drew itself on Crow’s lips.

“Wasted tears.”

“You-!!"

“Skull.”

Both of them looked over as Joker approached them, his gray eyes ever piercing and wary. It was almost immediate, the way Ryuji scoffed and let go of Akechi, letting him stagger and catch his balance.

“Go back to your team, Kurusu- we’ve finished our conversation here.” Before Skull could open his mouth, Crow cut in, fixing his misshapen collar with a casual, snide smirk. Joker’s eyes were dragged to him, a mix of distrust and.. pain lingering in his gaze.

It made Akechi clench his teeth.

“...We’re heading to the Observatory safe room. We’ll go when the lineup forms.” His voice was clipped, but both Skull and Crow nodded nonetheless, waiting till Joker’s back was turned and heading back- Akechi about to follow.

“...Look, Akechi-”

“Don't.” Crow cut him off, turning to look at him sidelong. “I don't have time for your meaningless antics.”

“Cut it out with the bullshit already. Can't you see I'm at least tryin here?!”

“And I say we end this here. There's no point in-”

“Stop being such a pretentious ass and listen to me, damnit.”

Annoyance was rising in Akechi by the second. He simply did not know when to quit, did he? Couldn't he tell that Akechi was trying to spare him already?!

“Fine then. Spit it out, we are wasting precious time here.”

“Finally. Look- I aint about to try ‘n be your friend.” Coming up right beside Akechi, Ryuji slipped his hands in his pockets, kicking at the floor slightly. “But- ugh, I'm sorry for treatin ya like shit before. Again, I aint about to forgive ya either-! But we gotta work as a team here, for Yoshizawa and Akira.”

He stuck his hand out, shoving it between them. It was a jumpy, rough movement, almost as if it was forced.

“So.. truce, or whatever?"

Crow found himself staring. What kind of idiotic move was this, apologizing? To him?

He scoffed. Absolutely ridiculous. Nothing but pain would come of this.

…and yet he took his hand anyway, the two of them shaking before firmly pulling away.

“..Fine then. Ill accept your.. truce.” He rolled his eyes, wiping his hand off on his hip. “..that was a rather pathetic show, you know.”

“What was that, asshole?!”

-

An Attempt to Step Forward - awriternamedart

[robneyer-blog]

Return of the TRACERS...

So, I’ve been investigating old, somewhat far-fetched baseball stories for 35 years.

That’s a long time, huh.

I began in 1989, shortly after I started working for Bill James. We didn’t have Retrosheet or Baseball-Reference.com in 1989. So I spent many dozens of hours with my nose buried in scratchy microfilm of old newspapers. Some years later I wrote a whole book of my own, tracking down a bunch more old stories. This was easier, since by then we did have Baseball-Reference.com and Retrosheet.

That book came out nearly 16 years ago, and I haven’t researched a single story since then (that I can recall, anyway). But there’s an endless supply of the things, and I do run across them during my recreational reading. I suppose it was just a matter of time until I got the yen, again.

Just recently I discovered that Ralph Terry wrote an autobiography, which was published in 2016 (Terry passed away in 2022). I pay fairly close attention to these things, but so many old ballplayers publish books with small publishers that it’s easy to miss them. Anyway, I found a cheap used copy and ordered it.

Terry’s book is pretty good, better than most in the genre. There’s a lot of padding—generous leading and a huge number of photos sprinkled throughout—and this 243-page book could have been easily formatted within 180 or so. So despite the page count, it’s a short book … and also engagingly written (presumably thanks to co-author John Wooley), so I finished reading the morning after I started.

In many ways, Ralph Terry was your typical MLB pitcher: blessed with tremendous athletic talent, excelled in multiple sports over the years, married a beautiful stewardess, and fought with management over money. But he also took college classes during his off-seasons for a number of years, and how many other ex-ballplayers have referenced Carl Jung and Alfred Adler in their memoirs?

Terry started his career with the Yankees, but before long was traded to the Kansas City A’s. That led him to off-season classes at University of Kansas City (soon to become University of Missouri—Kansas City). There, a couple of professors, Neil Warshay and Bob Neal, cut Terry some slack because … well, because he was a ballplayer and they were fans. Terry:

In 1960, after I was back with the Yankees, we were coming into Kansas City to play the A’s early in the season, and I told Casey about my two professors. “They’re big baseball fans,” I said, “and they’d love to meet you, especially since you’re one of their grads.” “Okay,” Casey told me. “Have them meet me up at the clubhouse about 4:30, before batting practice.” The visitor’s clubhouse at Municipal Stadium was over behind third base. So I got hold of the two professors, and we met before going in to see Casey. As it turned out, Dr. Warshay had put together a lineup he thought Casey might want to see. The major difference was that he had Mickey batting second instead of third, which was his usual spot. The idea was that maybe he’d get an extra at-bat that way. Gil McDougald, our usual second-place hitter at the time, dropped to seventh in Dr. Warshay’s scheme. The rest of his lineup was fairly orthodox. We went in, and Casey regaled us with tales of the old days for a while. Then, I said to Casey, “Case, Neil here’s got a lineup that he thinks you ought to use." Only Casey could see my face, and I rolled my eyes as I spoke. “Is that right?” he asked. “Well, let’s see what you’ve got there, Neil.” Dr. Warshay reached in his pocket and pulled out this little slip of paper like it was the secret to the atomic bomb. He passed it on to Casey, who studied it for a few moments. “Say, that’s a great lineup,” he said. “I’ll use it tonight.” He did, too. In fact, he had Mickey batting second not only in our two games in [Kansas City’s] Municipal Stadium, but also against the Tigers and Orioles and Senators. And even though Mickey started out in his new spot going 0 for 18, Casey didn’t move him back down to third for good until early June.

In all of that, there’s one verifiable fact. I’ll get to that in a minute.

First, though: Did Mantle bat second in 1960? And would this have been notable and unusual?

Yes, yes, and yes.

As a rookie in 1951, Mantle batted second 20 times, mostly in the latter half of May and then a few times in August and September after being recalled from Kansas City.

In 1952, he made eight scattered appearances as the #2 hitter in the lineup.

In 1953, none.

In 1954, once. With a .175 batting average in his first 11 games, Mantle batted second on the 1st of May. He singled once and struck out twice in four at-bats, the Yankees lost 10-2, and he batted almost exclusively third the rest of the season.

From 1955 through ’59, Mickey never batted second.

And then in 1960, he started 18 games in the #2 slot.

Did Mantle start batting second during a series in Kansas City?

He did not. He started batting second on May 12 in New York, against Cleveland.

Had the Yankees visited Kansas City before then, with Professor Warshay merely planting a seed in Stengel’s mind?

They had not. The Yankees had played only two road series, opening their season in Boston, and a bit later visiting Baltimore. The Yankees did host Kansas City just a few days before the Cleveland series, May 6 and 7. So it’s possible that Terry’s academic friends visited New York and met with Stengel then. It doesn’t match Terry’s recollection but it’s … possible.

Did Mantle start out 0 for 18 as the #2 hitter?

He did not. He started out 3 for 18 with five walks; the three hits were a triple and two home runs.

Overall, in 18 games as the Yankees’ #2 hitter, Mantle batted just .188 but his OBP (.388) and Slugging (.557) matched almost exactly his season percentages.

Okay, here’s the verifiable fact I promised before: as Terry recalled, Stengel did move Mantle back to third, for good, in early June.

In a doubleheader against Washington on the 30th, Hector López started both games in the #2 slot, with Mantle third. On May 31 and June 1 in Baltimore, Mantle again batted second. The Yankees lost both games. López went back in the second slot on June 2, and Mantle almost never batted second again in his career (not counting pinch-hitting jobs). From 1961 through ’63 he batted cleanup; Stengel was gone, of course, replaced by the far less creative Ralph Houk. In ’64 he batted fourth and third; in ’65, third and fourth; and from ’66 through ’68 he nearly always batted third.

Okay, this isn’t so tidy as all that. In the middle of the ’68 season, for some reason Mantle and Roy White swapped lineup slots for eight games, Mickey batting second and White third. In 33 plate appearances, Mantle’s output consisted of six walks and three singles, and that was the end of that experiment.

As I said, Mantle batting second was notable. Here's Joseph Sheehan writing in the Times the morning after Mickey was going to start batting second:

Before the washout was announced, Manager Casey Stengel caused a stir by posting a revised Yankee batting order that listed Mickey Mantle in second place. Any Yankee is likely to bob up anywhere in a Stengel batting order, but rarely has the slugging Mantle been located elsewhere than in the preferred “power” positions: third, fourth, or fifth. The complete order read as follows: Tony Kubek, Mantle, Yogi Berra, Roger Maris, Bill Skowron, Elston Howard, Gil McDougald, Bobby Richardson and [pitcher] Duke Maas. As usual, Stengel had a ready explanation. “I made these changes for three reasons, as follows,” he began—and proceeded to list about thirty-three. Boiled down, Casey’s idea was to move all his best hitters as high as possible to increase the chances of “them getting those extra times at bat that win close games like we’ve been losing too many of lately.”

At that moment, the Yankees were 10-7 on the season. They’d just lost two straight games, 8-3 and 5-1. A couple of weeks earlier, they’d lost three straight by a combined four runs. Which must have been frustrating for Stengel, but doesn’t seem like something that would motivate a notable lineup change two weeks later.

Nevertheless, on May 12 Stengel went with that new lineup and stuck with it for five games. Afterward he moved around the guys in the middle, but kept Kubek and Mantle at the top, McDougald and Richardson at the bottom for 16 straight games, through the 29th.

The idea of getting more plate appearances for your best hitters would not have been foreign to Stengel. Back in 1956, Pirates manager Bobby Bragan wrote down a lineup that “defied every known law of the game… Bragan reasoned baseball lineups have conformed to the tradition of the days of the dead ball and now are archaic in the modern era. He’s been thinking of using his power at the top of the order, putting some men with strength at the bottom and placing the pitcher seventh.”

“My idea,” Bragan said, “is to have the best batter leading off, since he comes to bat more often. Thus the second best batter is second, third best batter third, and so on. The pitcher bats seventh because the eighth and ninth batters have a better chance of getting on base when the top of the order comes up.”

Bragan’s creativity and daring was admirable. It’s not clear that he thought everything through, though. For example, he initially made Frank Thomas his leadoff man, and on balance Thomas was probably just his second best hitter (behind Dale Long; this was a couple of years before Clemente hit his stride). More to the point, making small adjustments to the lineup creates minute changes in run production, while moving the pitcher to #7 means a significant increase in the number of at-bats for the pitchers.

Which doesn’t mean it was a bad idea. But Bragan didn’t have the analytical tools to really test his theory. He was mostly guessing, and after two weeks of batting his pitchers seventh and Bill Mazeroski ninth, he went back to the old-fashioned way. A decade later, he managed the Milwaukee Braves and never batted his pitchers seventh or Henry Aaron leadoff. He did pencil Eddie Mathews into the leadoff slot for a few goodly chunks of the 1964 schedule. So at least part of the dream did survive. Later Bragan reportedly said, "My biggest fault was that I didn't experiment enough."

Finally, a few more words about Terry’s book. As I said, I enjoyed it. But there’s a story later in the book about his salary negotiations with the Yankees after his tremendous 1962 season, and the details are just outlandish. What I think happened was that Terry got his years mixed up, describing the negotiations for maybe his 1959 contract rather than 1963? There’s simply no way that he earned only $10,000 (as he reports) after a ’62 season in which he went 23-12 with a 3.19 ERA and won Game 7 of the World Series.

Which does make me wonder about the other stories in the book.

[taoofshigeru]

Finished True Vide, the Wicked.

More thoughts on the fight below the jump.

Short version: I'm not going to say I mopped the floor with them. I'm not going to say it wasn't a hard fight.

But there was a lot of room to maneuver, and frankly I made some mistakes in my winning run that really ought to have been punished harder.

That doesn't mean the fight design wasn't great.

My party: ["A" Party] Armsmaster Castti (level 82) Cleric Agnea (level 80) Merchant Throné (level 80) Thief Ochette (level 82)

["B" Party] Inventor Partitio (level 80) Merchant Hikari (level 76) Dancer Osvald (level 80) Dancer Temenos (level 80) (This is the same lineup I used for True Vide.)

---

I thought it was neat how the fight split into several "phases". It starts with the eight divine skills all locked, and then they unlock in a set order. (In the final 2 tries, I saw the same order of unlocks for the first 3 phases so I'm pretty sure it's set.)

What was very interesting was that each phase came with its own "Learning Objective" right out of the Advanced Octopathing textbook. While these were not explicitly stated, I could feel very specifically what was being tested in each phase.

In total, the fight took me three tries. My first try beefed out in phase 1, my second try got to phase 3, and my last one went all the way.

[The Phases] 1) Start of the battle Shield Points: 15 ->Vide summons 2 arms, one with automatic sidestep/counterattack, one with permanent reflect. ->As the arms are defeated, the party members who defeat them get banished to the shadow realm. This means that the subsequent break on Vide's main body in phase 2 had to be accomplished with only 2 characters. Learning Objective: Correctly execute the sequence of breaking both arms without using multitarget attacks. (You may use multitarget attacks once both tentacles are broken.) My Solution: Castti's fully boosted Harmful Concoction Lily of the Light+an Osvald cast on the arm with magic weaknesses, then use Ochette's Provoke Beasts or Hired Help Beastlings to break the other arm before using Hired Help Foreign Assassin to hit both for massive damage.

2) Defeat both arms Shield Points: 15 Brand/Alephan unlock ->Vide continues to attack, and every time he recovers from a break, 2 new characters are shadow realmed. Learning Objective: Delay Vide's second turn and remove 15 total shields with half of your party incapacitated, taking no more than 2 actions per turn. My Solution: Since the shadow realming depended on turn order, I used Stimulate to make sure Ochette was always left. She handled this phase by herself sipping a latte in her off hand.

3) Damage the main body up to a certain point (idk the exact value, but it was less than 500,000 because he didn't turn yellow) Shield Points: 20 Bifelgan/Draefendi unlock ->Vide summons a second pair of arms, same reflect/sidestep/counterattack setup, but with inverse weaknesses. ->Vide summons ruinous darkness, which does damage to HP/SP every time a character takes an action. This damage may have varied with defense values, since some characters with lower HP scores seemed to take more damage. It ultimately wasn't a huge factor, since I was using Revitalizing Jams to get to full BP and they come with a free full heal. Learning Objective: Correctly execute the sequence of breaking both arms without using multitarget attacks, with different weaknesses and higher shield points than in Phase 1. My Solution: Castti's fully boosted Harmful Concoction Blusterbloom on the arm with magic weaknesses, then use Ochette's Provoke Beasts (including 3x Ice Guardian Mk.II for Ice+Axe damage in the same hit) to break the other arm before using Hired Help Foreign Assassin to hit both for massive damage.

4) Defeat both arms, again Shield Points: 20 Sealticge/Aeber unlock ->Vide's per turn actions go from 2 to 4. Learning Objective: Develop a sustainable strategy to survive and counterattack for 20 shields after a 4-attack barrage that will almost or entirely wipe out whichever party is active when it hits. My Solution: Make sure that the "B" party always acted last on the turn immediately before Vide recovers from break status, and the entire party was a full health. With Hang Tough on everyone, the one attack that could hit the back line, Condeming Bolt, was almost never a KO. Switch to "A" party upon regaining player control, plow through shields with Ochette's beasts and Throné's latent power, have Agnea Revive the "B" party and have Castti supply BP/damage with Concoction/Drastic Measures. …Also, it seemed helpful to have Throné use Hired Help Mercenaries once the "B" party was revived, as it was a cheap buff that forced Vide to waste one of his 4 recover-from-break turns on Wave of Nothingness. The difference in damage on Vide was inconsequential relative to the increased survivability of the recover-from-break turn.

5) Inflict 1,000,000 HP of damage Shield Points: 30 Dohter/Aelfric unlock ->Vide heals 800,000 HP and main body weaknesses change to include swords. Learning Objective: With the added benefit of Aelfric's Blessing turns, develop a sustainable strategy to survive and counterattack for 30 shields under similar conditions to phase 4. My Solution: See phase 4. The one extra helpful realization here was that Wave of Nothingness only affected the frontline party, so Aelfric's Blessing could easily be carried past Vide's recover-from-break turn. With Ochette taking 3 turns between every Vide action, 30 shields was cake. I just had to be careful to stick to sequencing.

---

My major misplays: 1) I accidentally used Decaying Dragon's Essence on the arm that had reflect active, wasting the free 4 shields of break early in the fight. There was a specific instance where it could have been useful later, but I managed to get out of a pretty tight situation because luck let the sequencing fit just right.

2) I wasted BP/actions in phase 4 by having Agnea Sealticge Hikari and stacking Divine Protection, only to see it immediately invalidated by a Wave of Nothingness.

3) I used Aelfric's Blessing on my "B" party to try and maximize damage, not realizing that Wave of Nothingness prevented buffs for 3 turns minimum. Essentially wasted a fully boosted Agnea turn casting an impotent buff.

4) The worst one, in the early half of phase 5. Because I had just gotten Aelfric's Blessing active, I had my "A" party in to try to maximize damage (since it doesn't trigger if a party member is on the back line). Vide's name text was still white, so I knew there was still a ways to go, but I did it anyway, and immediately regretted doing so. I then had to start from a position where Ochette and Castti were both KO'ed, bring the "A" party back to life and hit for 18 shields plus the 12 a fully revived and boosted Ochette would give me, all before Vide got another full turn. I put my console down for 5 minutes in frustration, then came back and thought out a plan. Hikari's Hienka and Throné's latent power saved my bacon.

---

If True Vide went at you hard and fast, TVtW was more of an exhaustive final. If you came to the test hall without studying, your ass was grass, but if knew your stuff well enough and executed consistently, it became a very manageable boss.

The fifth phase especially felt a bit long, but I got more respect for the fight design overall while writing this up. I got a sense it was very much meant to be the true final exam of OT2.

Feels good to have passed the test.

[mercurygray]

Can you do Andy/Eddie/Marie (or some combination) for "Please don't give up"?

A win like this called for steaks.

First time state titleholders deserved all the laurels they could get, and coaches of winning teams even moreso. There looked to be no end in sight where celebrations were concerned - first the parade, and then a victory rally, and now the proud, pleased pockets of the school board were treating the coaching staff to dinner downtown at the Hotel's subdued, glittering restaurant.

It was the sort of place Eddie would have liked to take Andy on a date, if they'd had the money, but teaching didn't pay well enough for dinners like this, and machining neither, and it wasn't as though this was the sort of place where two men could get a table for dinner and not raise eyebrows. So date night was a couple of burgers and beers at the corner pub, and they were content to get it, and save the white linen service for a really special occasion like this when someone else was paying.

Eddie felt a little out of place, in his suit, which was somehow the wrong shade of black for this room. Not that anyone minded him, a little old nobody assistant coach - the rest of the board and the staff had brought their wives and the comments all seemed to be about who had bought what dress where. And there, at the end of the table in pride of place, was Andy, king of all he surveyed and thoroughly enjoying his steak.

Someone tapped his shoulder, and Eddie turned around, a little surprised to see one of the bellboys from the lobby. Dennis was a freshman on the C team, a beanpole who looked only marginally better in his hotel uniform than he did in his football pads. He was saving, Eddie remembered, to buy a car - that was why he put up with the silly uniform.

"What's the word, Dennis?" Eddie asked the teenager.

"There's a woman here to see Coach Haldane, Mr. Jones." Dennis jerked a thumb back towards the lobby, suddenly mindful there was a stain on his white glove.

"Did she say what she wanted?" Eddie asked, sitting up a little. There was something about women asking after Andy that stopped him cold, the way they did at PTA meetings when someone's mother started talking real sweetly about the bake sale, and what Coach's favorite sweets were, and how it was a shame her own husband hadn't managed to maintain his weight. He'd said something, once, angrily throwing the comment out while they were making dinner afterwards, and Andy'd let the pan scorch giving him a handjob right there in the kitchen so Eddie knew how he felt about it. But it was still there, wasn't it? That idea that handsome, middle-aged football coaches were there for bored, middle-aged housewives to covet.

"Sorry, Mr. Jones, I didn't ask. She's a reporter, maybe? Didn't give a name. I didn't like to interrupt Coach but - "

"I'll go," Eddie said, throwing down his napkin and pushing back from the table. "Ought to be able to finish one meal in peace."

The woman in the lobby had one of those wide-angled coats all the women were wearing these days - black, a serviceable color, with a hat to match, not quite managing to look smart enough for the hotel lobby, and a little handbag on her wrist, glancing around like she didn't quite know what to do with herself. A Mrs. Somebody, probably come to ask what it would take to get her boy in the starting lineup next year.

But then she turned, and Eddie found himself pulling up short, his mouth suddenly dry. God, how long had it been since he'd seen that face?

"I see he ain't managed to get rid of you yet," Marie said, a glimpse of her old sass surfacing for a moment.

"It would take some doing." He was still staring - Marie, here! Different hair, a more modern style, and pumps instead of her service shoes. She looked …ordinary, respectable, the sort of woman you wouldn't think twice about seeing in a grocery store, or out at the park. A little thicker around the waist, but weren't they all? He found himself thinking he'd like to see what she looked like beneath that coat again, how her body would feel again. "I'd hug you if I didn't think people would stare."

She smiled. "I'd kiss you if I didn't think people would talk."

It was all he could do to keep an arm's distance between them when she said that, too many old feelings gushing up from places he'd forgot he buried them. She hadn't been there, in the hospital, and there was no one to tell her, after they'd said they'd thrown his boondockers away because they were too bloody to be any use. Then it had been Andy hurt, and they'd had enough trouble between the two of them to even try. Her whole life had been the Marines - it wasn't like she had a home she could have gone back to, a place they could have started looking. And it was hard enough, just the two of them, and who was to say she hadn't found something better, pretty woman like her?

"How'd you find us?"

"I took a job, in Woonsocket, on the state line. Girlfriend of mine from the Corps had a room spare and after the war I didn't know what else to do, figured one place was good as another. Paper goods - I help with their timekeeping and filing. Anyway, we get the occasional paper, and they like their football. One of our factory managers was telling anyone who would listen about how Coach Haldane was a mill man himself, before he went to school. When I saw the picture I knew I had to try."

"Glad you didn't stop trying."

"I'm sorry for the interruption, I didn't know -"

"You're never an interruption," Eddie declared, before realizing they were still in the hotel lobby, and Andy was still at the dinner with the school board, and there wasn't really anywhere they could go to be alone, really alone, without someone talking. "Ever. But - "

"I can wait," she offered, seeing his frustration. "There's chairs here. Lord knows I've done enough that an hour more won't kill me."

"You got a place to stay?"

She shook her head. "I borrowed the money for the train ticket and didn't get much farther than that. Was hoping - "

"Wouldn't let you do anything else," Eddie declared, without thinking. "It'll be the best surprise he's gotten all year."

She looked skeptical of that. "Better than winning state?"

Eddie looked at her and grinned, thinking of the look on Andy's face when he told him. "Even better than that."

[lightsovermonaco]

His Good Sweater: Chapter 10

Masterlist

Shoutout to my bestie @acollectionofficsandshit for all the drunk comments she made while betaing this one... Wish you guys could see them lol

Word Count: 4.8k

Recommended song: “Amnesia" by 5SOS

Pierre paces in his dinky trailer at the Circuit of the Americas and desperately tries to forget you exist. He had already taken down the pictures on the wall but the images were burned into his brain. He had shoved your shirt under his bed, having absolutely no idea how it had made its way halfway around the world to taunt him.

He was slowly unraveling like a spool of thread on a loom as you wove him irrevocably into the tapestry of your life.

The race in Austin started in less than two hours and you hadn't texted him. Not once in the handful of years he'd known you had you neglected to wish him luck before a race, even if it was 2 am your time or you had exams, you always took thirty seconds to warn him to be safe and finish well.

He was beginning to think you hated him for how he'd acted at the gala last weekend, jealous and possessive from afar. Talking to you would have been the better choice. But seeing you laugh and dance the night away had hurt too much. He’d slipped out early after Victoria assured him she could find a ride and sped home to fall apart.

He had only barely managed to piece himself together in time for the race.

Pierre checks his phone for the third time in as many minutes and swears under his breath. He didn't know why he expected it to ring and for your face to pop up at this point. Even if you called to tear into him, he'd still fall to his knees at the sound of your voice. He just wanted to hear you speak, didn't care what was said, only that he could latch onto your words and lose himself in them.

Hope sparks when his phone chimes but he nearly throws it across the trailer when he sees Charles' name.

Heard from her yet?

No. At this point I'm beginning to think I never will again.

Maybe she fell asleep early?

It's 5 pm in London. I'll bet you she's eating a bowl of takeout from the Chinese place down the street, not sleeping.

Its still possible. Don't dwell on it. This isn't the headspace you wanna be in before a race. Block it out. I don't wanna see my best friend wind up hurt today.

Pierre didn't reply, if only because Charles was right. Worrying would get him nowhere. After his shitty qualifying yesterday, he started thirteenth on the grid so he had his work cut out for him. Austin offered plenty of opportunity for overtakes; he could get the job done if his team made the right calls. 

And if he made it to the podium, you would have to text him.

The thin mattress groans when he sits to unlace his hastily tied race boots. He folds his legs to sit criss cross and places his palms on his knees. The familiar pose already has some of the tension leaving his shoulders as his eyes slide shut. He breathes in for ten seconds, reflecting on what ails him. He holds the breath for five seconds before releasing it slowly.

He repeats the process until he comes to terms with the fact that you won't be wishing him luck. That was your choice; there was nothing he could do about it and therefore no sense reading into it. He had done all he could to convince you to trust him. The ball was in your court; he had to be patient and wait for you to take a shot.

“Focus,” he murmurs to himself, forcing any erroneous thoughts from his head. “Walk through the track.”

The circuit at Austin was challenging, consisting of a mix of 20 sweeping corners and scattered hairpins. He was almost lucky in a way to be starting so far back on the grid because turn one was only a few hundred meters from pole and their tires would be slightly colder and less grippy upon arrival than his would be. The few extra seconds afforded to him by starting thirteenth could mean the opportunity to leap frog past his rivals in the first corner.

The counterclockwise circuit meant he would have to keep an eye on his front left tire too, as it would wear faster than the others. He'd change gears an average of 66 times per lap, higher than similar length tracks like Monaco. Pit stops cost an average of nineteen seconds, meaning he would need to build a significant gap to the driver chasing him in order to avoid the threat of any undercuts.

There were too many variables occupying space in his mind to afford you a sliver of it.

Some time later he decides that his four leaf clover tucked safely in the worn leather of his wallet will provide all the luck he needs and switches on his pre race playlist after popping in his ear buds.

"Sights on the podium," he murmurs to himself, hand on the doorknob. "Let's race."

The bass flows through him as his feet carry him to the Alpha Tauri garage on autopilot, through the back entrance and to his plain white driver room. The familiar beats are a numbing salve spread on his frayed nerves, his anticipation rising like a crimson wave in his veins. He leaves his clothes in a haphazard heap in the corner and changes into the white fireproofs hanging nearby, thoughts momentarily veering to you knocking on the door and stripping them right back off.

Shaking his head to clear his mind, he runs through his usual stretch sets until Pyry arrives to walk him through reflex exercises.

"How's your head?" Pyry asks, running him through more cool down stretches. "Do we need to take a minute and do some meditation?"

"Beat you to it," Pierre grunts out, pushing back against the hand on his head to work his neck. "I'm good."

"You sound better than you have all week, I'll give you that. Keep that focus, use it to propel yourself forward."

"Run me through the lineup again," Pierre requests, "I need something else to think about."

Because if he let his mind follow the path it wanted to, it would inevitably lead to you and undo the work he had done to avoid that. He needed to be empty of anything that wasn't racing, anything else was an unnecessary distraction that had the potential to end in disaster.

Pyry rattles off the grid in order of who Pierre needs to overtake, pausing between each name to give him time to recall their driving styles and potential chinks in their armor to exploit. He knew from tapes of previous years that Stroll often ran wide into turn one, giving Pierre the option to brake late and sweep up the inside. Vettel was half convinced the track was cursed, so his mind would work against him enough that Pierre could exploit it and get past at some point. He continued until he got to Hamilton and Max locking out the front row, where he would need a bit of luck to overtake.

"You got it?" Pyry asks, stepping back.

Pierre rolls his shoulders and nods. 

"Get shit done mate," Pyry says and bumps fists with his driver. He slips out to allow Pierre a moment to center himself before slipping into his race suit, leaving it half unzipped and tying it around his waist before following his trainer.

Pyry leads the way to where the matte navy and white car waits, mechanics swarming it like studious worker bees tending to their queen. No one talks to him save his engineer because words from anyone else threaten to break his carefully constructed race mentality. If they wanted him to bring home points, they knew to leave him alone once he was suited up.

His mind is blank of anything but statistics as he twists his ear buds in and pulls on his balaclava and helmet. As his vision narrows to the sliver of track he can see through his visor, so does his focus. With forty minutes to lights out, he's directed out onto the track. He rips the wheel to the right as he exits the garage, getting a decent powerslide for his efforts.

There was no doubt in his mind that he would land on the podium, if only to see the look on your face when he did.

**********

It took an unfathomable amount of restraint to keep yourself from calling Pierre to wish him luck.

You texted Max instead, wishing him a safe and comfortable podium a half hour before lights out. He hadn't responded, likely already in the garage with his trainer going through his pre race routine.

The pace Max had set the day before had awarded him pole position and the margin between him and Hamilton had been enough that you were confident in his ability to hold off the Mercedes for all fifty six laps.

If you were honest with yourself, you were disappointed that the Alpha Tauri you so desperately tried to ignore would be starting in thirteenth. You try not to think about it, instead queueing up SkySports and opening your laptop for pre race coverage. You avoid the interviews in favor of listening to the commentators analyze the grid.

"It should be an easy win for Max as long as he fends off Hamilton until the first round of pit stops. The undercut works well here, as Red Bull proved last year, and I'm sure they plan on doing the same thing this year."

You hum in agreement, gingerly sipping your steaming tea. You really ought to consider a career as a sportscaster at this point based on how often you came to the same conclusions they did.

"I think one of the biggest shakeups is Russell starting all the way up in eleventh after his amazing qualifying for Williams yesterday. Think he can hold onto that position?"

"He's got some fierce competition not far behind in the form of Alpha Tauri. Gasly starts thirteenth- surprisingly far back on the grid given the otherwise flawless performance he's shown this year. But it seems likely that he should be able to overtake-"

You flick the tv on mute, unable to stomach listening to them sing his praises. You numb your mind with social media until the Formula 1 theme plays on your laptop, alerting you that there's a few minutes until race start. Tire blankets are peeled off and the drivers weave their way through the formation lap with the exception of Kimi who takes his traditional straight line approach to warm up his supersoft tires. 

Most of the front runners are on ultrasofts, indicating a two stop strategy. It was Pirelli's recommended approach, and you were glad that Horner heeded their advice for once and let Max use the ultras in Q2. It would give Max the upper hand over Hamilton who starts on the yellow sidewall tire and thus slightly slower lap times.

Crofty and Brundle break down the notable turns as the cars line up on the grid, pointing out the sharp hairpin only a few hundred meters from pole position. If Max got away clean, he would be ahead of the cramped pack and have an even better edge over the silver arrows who would be forced to queue behind him.

The traditional "lights out and away we go" kicks off the grand prix, engines roaring into the first turn. Max does manage to get away clean and is awarded with an immediate advantage. Turn one proves tragic for the Alfa Romeo of Raikonnen and the Asthon Martin of Stroll who collide and cause Kimi to spin. They rejoin at the back of the pack, your eyes snagging on the navy and white of an Alpha Tauri as it streams past. 

Your heart spins in a similar fashion when the GAS driver tag leaps up two places in the timing table, suddenly in eleventh due to the incident. Your gaze snaps to the laptop humming on your legs before you remember its Max's driver cam you queued up. The Dutchman is silent as his engineer relays information about the incident and informs him of the widening gap between those chasing him. 

“Confirm received,” Gianpiero says calmly. No matter the situation or how heated Max got, he always kept his head. It was what made the duo such a good match and had likely kept Max from going off the rails on more than one occasion.

“Yeah,” Max says shortly, clearly pissed about how quickly Hamilton was approaching. “Let me know when I’ve got enough charge to get out of range.”

“Yep, will do. Just keep this pace and you’ll hold him at bay.”

Live coverage replays the incident between Stroll and Raikonnen from the view of onboard with Pierre. The instant the 10 on the halo appears in the center of your screen you suck in a breath. He yanks the wheel to avoid colliding with Ocon, who had to do the same to keep from hitting his teammate as they navigate through the carnage.

You chew on your lip and try to refocus on the battle between the front runners. Not much is happening in the midfield for the next thirty or so laps and Max just barely manages to build a solid enough gap between himself and Hamilton to dive into the pits comfortably without losing places. 

Your phone rings and you answer it without checking who it was as the only person you wouldn't answer was currently occupied.

"Hello?"

"Why the fuck didn't they pit Daniel?!"

You grin, noting the blistering beginning on his front left tire as SkySports switches to his onboard camera. "Because he's about to pass Charles," you tell Dan's girlfriend. She didn't call you often during races. It was likely that she knew you were nearing your wits end and this was her way of offering support.

"He won't be able to with those tires- oh." She breaks off when Daniel passes a DRS detection zone and his rear wing opens, allowing him to pass the Monegasque with ease. 

"Told you," you say with a touch of reprimand. "You're always too nervous about those things. Daniel knows how to drive, just trust him to get the job done and he'll bring home another trophy for your apartment."

"I don't live here," she points out and you roll your eyes. She had lived in London as long as you had known her, but she was almost always at Daniel's apartment whether he was in town or not. Daniel digs in as the camera follows him for a lap, highlighting the widening gap between the McLaren and the Ferrari.

"You basically do. At this point, you're paying rent for a dusty one bedroom apartment on the east side that you set foot in maybe once a month." She scoffs but you push on, "a waste of sterling if you ask me, when you're at Daniel's every time I ask you to do anything."

"You act like I never- there goes Pierre!"

His name sparks dread in your gut as your attention flicks back to the screen in time to see him overtake Bottas on the inside of turn one. He'd managed to claw up to fifth with the move, somehow gaining places while you weren't looking.

"Good for him," you croak, trying your best to be genuinely happy for him. He was pushing the car to the limit and you'd be amazed if he didn't wind up on the podium along with Dan and Max. Charles and Hamilton were the only ones in his way, and something told you Charles wouldn’t put up much of a fight when his mate reached his gearbox. Hamilton would prove a challenge but he had been making tiny mistakes all day. Nothing significant, though enough to add up to him barely holding onto second while Daniel rode his gearbox.

"He's got ten laps to get past those two," she murmurs as if momentarily forgetting you were on the phone. 

"Can we talk about literally anything else please?" You whisper, half tempted to shut off the race completely. 

"Babe, you have to face the music at some point. Either you never want to see him again or you love him, which is it?"

She never failed to be anything but brutally honest. You appreciate it because everyone else let you brush off your problems, but she called you on your bullshit. She would needle you about it until you folded.

"I think it's better for both of us if I pretend we never met, don't you?"

"Easier for you, yes," she agrees. "But it'll kill Pierre. You don't think you could keep in touch with him, just as friends?"

"I don't know if I can handle that. I can barely look at him without wanting to bawl my eyes out."

She sighs, pausing to contemplate what to say. Voice soft, she continues, "Why don't you just take him back? Clearly it's ruining both of you. Are you really gonna let the press wreck the best you ever had? I know its hard but-"

"I'm not like you," you cut in. "I can't just ignore the articles and the comments and pretend there aren't people out there that hate me for being with him. They came to my house, disrupted my family. Hell, Ben can't even go to school without being mobbed by his classmates demanding answers. If my suffering is what allows my family to go about their lives then so be it."

"If that's what you wanna believe."

You sigh, tangling your fingers in the hem of your shirt. "It is."

"Alright," she says, voice teetering on a knife's edge. "I know better than to try to change your mind when you're like this. He's on the podium by the way. Oh, and watch what you say to Max- Pierre will read into it."

She hangs up without a goodbye, leaving you to deal with the realization that the podium is indeed VER RIC GAS on your own. Your eyes are glued to the Red Bull and McLaren drivers, blatantly ignoring the one in the white suit as the anthems play and the champagne is sprayed, turning away to busy yourself with making coffee when Daniel hands his liquid filled race boot to third place.

You weren't quite sure how you were supposed to watch what you said to Max- there was no reason to in your mind. Max was your next closest friend on the grid and you had every right to congratulate him if you wanted to.

Resolute in your decision, you text Max and Daniel a quick congratulations before shutting off the TV and closing your laptop.

Max's insane custom ringtone he'd selected for himself nearly makes you jump out of your skin when it blares from your phone.

"Hey great race-"

"Did you see it? I wasn't sure if you'd watch it- did you see my move on Hamilton when he tried to get past me?" He was talking a mile a minute like he was still out on track. "I was like- and then Dan tried to overtake me on the final lap and I was like no way! And then-"

"Max," you chime in, dragging out the 'a' with a sing-song voice. "You're rambling."

"Oh right. Yeah but I made it! Led every lap and finished with another win."

"That's great." You force as much enthusiasm in the words as possible, trying to match his chaotic energy. "You did great. I know it probably doesn't mean much, but I'm proud to be your friend. You beat a world champ!"

"It means a lot-" 

"Who's that?"

You stiffen at the familiar cadence. You had assumed Max was back in the garage when he called, but he must have still been in the podium room. You could picture him in his race suit, smudges of grease and dirt staining the pristine white. Beads of sweat probably ran down his neck, begging to be brushed away by your tongue. 

"Uh, no one," Max says in a lame attempt to cover up his digression. "I gotta go," he whispers to you. 

"Let me talk-"

"Wait don't," you start, but the call ends abruptly and you blink. You stare down at your phone, completely dumbfounded. Of course his instinct would be to talk to you, to share the euphoria of a podium with you. It was the first victory in three years he wouldn't have you to celebrate with.

It was only a matter of time until his resolve popped like the cork on his champagne.

**********

Pierre's phone is in his hand as soon as Max hangs up. He hefts his trophy in the other, a wild grin on his sweaty face as he snaps a picture. He makes sure he's the only one in the frame, shamelessly wanting himself to be the center of your attention.

"Mate," Daniel pipes up, catching his eye, "you think that's a good idea?" 

Pierre sighs, cutting the Australian a glare. "I'm just trying to fill her in."

"Wasn't your plan to give her space?"

"It's been a week, isn't that long enough?"

"Take it from me, sometimes it takes months for someone to figure things out. Hell, you know how long it took me to sort through my feelings for-"

"I know," Pierre cuts in. "I know. I just- a snap can't hurt can it? C'mon, I just got a podium! If it goes bad I can blame it on the post race jitters."

Daniel holds up his hands and shrugs. "You're a grown man. Do what you want."

Pierre studies the photo, scrutinizing the way his hair was plastered to his head and the awkward way he'd posed to keep anyone but himself out of the frame. It's his genuine smile that he knows will do you in, and ultimately the reason he sends it.

His phone is a lead weight clutched in his grip as he winds through the paddock, constantly stopped by vips and team members congratulating him. None of what anyone says registers, he just tries his best to match their mood and sputter praises about his team's contributions to his podium. 

The snap you finally send back is only from the eyes up, but it's enough. He's surrounded by people in his driver room, but for ten seconds it might as well have just been him staring at a sliver of your face on a screen.

The tiny lines at the corners of your shining eyes tell him you're smiling, which is a step in the right direction even if you won't let him see your entire face. It's enough to reignite the hope that slumbered in his chest while waiting for you to pull the trigger and make a move.

He sends back a video of the people in the room, who cheer when they realize they're being filmed. 'Wish you were here,' is what he captions it and sends it without giving himself a chance to overthink.

Ten minutes pass with no reply.

The beer he’s already consumed have given him a pleasant buzz as well as an excuse to make a bad decision or two. He takes another video of the room to post to his Instagram story, 'Missing you' written in the lower left corner.

Fuck, he hopes you'll see it and regret leaving him on read. Instead all he gets is a text from Charles chastising him for stirring up drama.

Really Pierre?

Blame it on the alcohol, he texts back. 

I know you aren’t drunk. You can’t form a coherent sentence when you are.

Guess i gotta drink more then

Pierre doesn’t turn anyone bearing alcohol away. He's two celebratory shots deep when Daniel finds him sulking in a corner. "You've got my girl texting me freaking out over your story. I've seen it and I gotta agree with her. Was that really necessary?"

"She left me on read," Pierre says like that was enough explanation. His head was spinning and it was getting hard to keep the room upright. "And it's the truth. I miss her like hell. I want her here. She was supposed to come, you know? I was gonna have her fly in with me on the jet. She doesn't start class again until June. I had this whole week planned out. I was gonna show her Texas- she’s from New York and..." 

He trails off when he notes Dan’s pitying smile. Daniel sighs and runs a hand through his curls. "I know. I get it, okay? I know it's hard but you can't force it. You've gotta let her come back on her own, all you're doing now is pushing her away."

He was fucking clueless when it came to these things. He'd had you for a few precious moments and now that he'd lost you he didn't know how to act. His mind was running on hazy autopilot; he barely knew which way was up, let alone did he trust himself to make any sort of important decision.

He stares down at the shot he'd been handed at some point before throwing it back. The cheap whiskey burns his throat but he barely registers the sting. "Should I take it down?"

"She already saw it," Daniel says gently, as if he anticipates how bad the fuck up will hurt. And it does. It hits him like a tire wall at two hundred kph, knowing that you were probably ranting or crying on the phone with Daniel’s girlfriend. "But yeah, that's probably best. People are already wondering what happened between you two, no need to throw fuel on the fire."

"You're probably right-" Pierre cuts off when Charles arrives with a grimace on his face. He shakes his head and gives his friend’s shoulder a squeeze. 

"For once I'm not the dumb one."

"You're a dick, you know that right?" Daniel says, allowing Pierre to delete the post. It takes him a few tries before he gets it down, but undeniably rumors will be circulating in the morning if they weren’t already.

"Honestly what were you thinking?" Charles demands, edging towards full blown yelling. "I told you to leave her be. The gossip stemming from this isn’t gonna help.”

The last thing he needed was someone else telling him how stupid his decision had been. At least Daniel had the decency to show sympathy. 

"Honestly?" Pierre responds with the same intensity, his anger flaring. "Honestly, Charles, I was thinking that she was happy for me but was too afraid to take the leap. She haunts me. Every second I’m awake I have to force myself away from her. Even when I’m asleep I can’t get away from her. So I don’t know, maybe I wanted to haunt her too."

“This isn’t the way you win her back and you know it.”

“I know!” Pierre throws up his hands. “But what else am I supposed to do? She won’t talk to me. She has no problem talking to Max or Daniel but apparently she draws the line at me.”

“You know it’s not-” Daniel's eyes flick to his phone and he fights back a grin. All it does is remind Pierre that he lost the person that could bring that sort of smile to his own face. "Fellas I wish I could stay and help but I gotta get going. Charles, I think Pierre needs another drink." He slaps five American dollars in the Monegasque's hand. "First one is on me."

Pierre is too deep in a spiral to care when his friend drags him from the party to a bar just south of the circuit. Somehow it was within walking distance; the floor was sticky and the lighting was for shit but he didn't care.

Pierre's focus was on downing shot after shot, erasing the broken image of you his mind had conjured up. He never should have posted the story. It only served to feed into what the media had been speculating for the past week and dredged up more tension between you.

Pierre stops checking his phone two shots later. The liquor provides a wet blanket over his senses, dousing him in cold water and scrambling his brain. He could barely remember his own name, but yours still lived in the corner of his mind.

Even drunk, he refused to forget you.

Two hours and who knows how much alcohol later, Charles helps Pierre back to his hotel room.

Pierre falls asleep as soon as he hits the mattress, head too blurry to dredge up memories of you.

[prurientpuddlejumper]

Death Threats

Summary: What if the people threatening Barba went after you, too?  

Warnings: Angst. Injury. Fluff. (I realized the timing puts this in the episode Heartfelt Passages, so that was a busy day for poor Rafi.)

Dedicated to @teamsladsandgents​ for inspiring me to get stabby.

2,256 words

You thought he punched you, the man in the elevator. It wasn’t until the doors chimed open and he was striding quickly but casually from the building that you realized you were bleeding.

The inch-wide slit in your shirt took a moment to start bleeding in earnest as you stood in shock, time frozen along with your body. Then thick, dark amounts of it began streaming through your fingers.

The elevator doors were sliding shut before you thought to stumble out with your last ounce of strength—to scream for help—before your body sank to the ground, leaving you alone in your metal coffin. You tried to sit up again, but it hurt and made more blood come out.

You couldn’t reach the elevator buttons.

You were so tired.

The funny thing was, you weren’t afraid. Just disappointed. You always thought you’d turn into an action hero if you were attacked—that adrenaline would awaken some ferocious, hitherto unseen warrior within, like Jason Bourne.

But it all happened so fast.

It was over before you noticed a blade in his hand. Over before you processed that he had said something to you, just before that dull punch in your gut.

“That ADA you’re fucking sticks his nose in the wrong people’s business.”

It was strange that you weren’t thinking about your mom or your best friend of ten years. As you pressed as hard as you could to stem the bleeding, you didn’t see your whole life flash before your eyes. The only thing on your mind was your boyfriend of the last several months, the sarcastic lawyer who kept so many walls up, and the petty argument you got into earlier about his canceling lunch plans again.

None of it seemed real. Didn’t seem like the way the story of your life ought to end—bleeding out in an elevator.

It was getting hard to concentrate on what to do next.

OK. The buttons wouldn’t work. Too far to reach.

No one can hear you scream.

Phone.

Your phone was in your pocket, but you had to take one of your hands off of clamping your gut to reach it. Blood streamed through your fingers—so much blood from such a small hole. Your hand was too slick with it and shaking to grab hold of the phone. If you could get it, you could call 911.

“Work, you fucking hand,” you thought. You thought that was an undignified last thought. It should be something profound. Poetic.

But no. Your last thought was going to be swearing at a Samsung.

Tired.

You never remembered if you managed to get the phone from your pocket or not. It didn’t matter anymore.

The last thing you remembered thinking about was Rafael finding out you were gone, his eyes red from mourning. Blaming himself. You wished you could tell him… If you died, you wouldn’t be there to cup his cheek, to make him smile again. To tell him what you whispered to the dark elevator, alone.

“It’s not your fault, Rafi.”

***

The man’s name was Felipe Heredio, a lieutenant of the BX9 street gang. There was already a warrant out for his arrest when he stabbed you. ADA Rafael Barba identified him in a lineup as the man who was stalking him only an hour after a neighbor found you lying in a pool of blood. The fact that he was already in police custody might have been relieving to you if you were conscious. You might have felt proud that it was Barba who ensured he was arrested.

And your heart might have broken when Barba’s phone rang, and his entire world stopped.

***

Rafael’s eyes were red from crying when you woke up with oxygen tubes in your nose, and your hand cradled in his. Your throat hurt more than anything else, oddly, which you would later learn was from being intubated for surgery.

The first word you croaked upon regaining consciousness was, “Sorry.”

A collection of empty coffee cups was scattered around the feet of his chair so he could stand vigil for however long you had been out. His eyes were not only red and wet, but bulging with that jittery, over-tired, caffeine anxiety.

You knew how busy Rafael was. That it was a weekday (technically, it was already tomorrow), and he’d have court in the morning. What you didn’t know, because he didn’t want to weigh you down with his world, was that Barba had already mourned one death today, and that one more loss might break him.

You were sorry for causing him so much trouble.

Rafael was having none of it, of course. He tried to keep his voice from shaking when he told you, “Why in god’s name would you be sorry?” followed by barking, “Stop that—don’t try to sit up. Nurse!”

His bedside manner was well and truly atrocious.

The next hour was a dizzying blur of nurses checking your vitals and helping you use the bathroom, then answering a uniformed officer whose questions you could barely understand through the morphine haze.

When it became clear what had happened and why, Rafael became unusually quiet. All of his follow-up questions and complaints of, “is this really necessary? Can’t you do this later?” fell away. He slumped in the visitor’s chair beside your bed, his hand still holding yours, but in pensive silence until the officer finished, leaving you alone except for the security detail at the door.

Then the apologies came. The heavy confessions that he’d been receiving threats for a year, and this was all, all his fault. Admittedly, if it weren’t for the morphine drip dulling everything, you might have been pissed off that he knew this might happen and kept it to himself. He kept so much to himself, you had to read about his cases online to know what was going on in his life. But his face—which you always thought babyish, with his smooth cheeks and lips ever-ready to flash a sarcastic smirk—was drawn, making him look old and haggard. He was too serious, too raw to possibly blame him.

“I’m so sorry for putting you in danger. I never should have gotten you involved in this.”

“It’s not your fault.”

“It is,” he choked. “I’ve been getting threats since I indicted those cops, and I haven’t exactly been on… anyone’s good side. I should never have started dating you.”

Like a slap in the face, that sting made it through the morphine. You jerked your hand out of his.

“That came out wrong. It’s true, though. I was selfish to think I could…” He gave a melancholy sigh as he sank back in the chair. “It will be safer if we keep our distance from now on. This will never happen to you again.”

You never imagined you could get stabbed and have your heart broken on the same day, or that the latter would hurt worse.

“Then what are you even doing here?!”

“I had to know you were OK. But as long as I’m getting death threats—”

“Wait, wait. You’re saying you’d rather give up being with me than give up a legal battle with powerful enemies?”

His eyes widened and he stared like a deer in the headlights, only where the deer was an insensitive workaholic, and the headlights were the blinding rays of truth. It wasn’t even a surprise that he hadn’t thought of it that way—this was every fight he’d had with an ex just before they broke up with him.

“I, uh—”

You grabbed his face and dragged him down into the softest kiss, which was not what he was expecting. He almost yelped (though it melted into a whine) when his fiery hot, coffee-flavored lips hit your cool ones. When he pulled back, lips wet and parted, his brow furrowed in confusion over still-widened eyes.

“You are… the sweetest.” Your hand lingered on his cheek as you gave a doped-up-on-painkillers smile. “The most selfless, noble… bravest… amazing man I have ever met. I love you so much.”

“I… what?”

“Rafael”—your thumb lazily stroked his cheek—“I know how much you care about me. Even though you’re married to your job and it’s frustrating as hell sometimes, I’ve never been insecure that you don’t love me enough. I know you never tell me about your cases because you want me to be able to sleep at night. You worry about me too much. And you always look so nervous whenever I leave, like you think I’m never coming back this time.

“So the fact that you would sacrifice your own happiness before you’d let an injustice go unanswered… that’s incredible. You do nothing but give a voice to the voiceless all day, working yourself to the bone without considering the cost to your personal life. You’re like a superhero, ADA Barba.”

A short breath of a laugh escaped his lips as his hand came up to the side of his face to cover yours. His eyes were watery, and he looked like he was about to break down again as he bitterly whispered, “A superhero who almost got you killed.”

“I’m not leaving you, you know.”

“Cariño. If anything happened to you, I couldn’t—couldn’t…”

“Nothing’s going to happen. It’ll be OK. I’m not leaving you alone.”

A tear wavered precariously close to the rim of his eyelid until he turned away, rubbing his face. It was gone when he turned back. “You could have died because of my fucking work! I’ve never given you the time you deserve. How do you still want to be around me?”

“Hey, someone has to be there to protect you when you get yourself in trouble,” you grinned.

Rafael Barba couldn’t take any more. He bent over the hospital bed and wrapped his arms around you, doing his best not to snag any of the many tubes coming out of you or put any weight on anything below your diaphragm, but hugging you to him as tightly as he could. You felt his trembling breathing in your hair, and hot wet spots pooling on your neck.

“I don’t deserve you.”

Your free arm closed over his back, stroking his broad, tense muscles through his shirt. “I’m really glad I didn’t die,” you whispered, finally allowing yourself to feel scared now that he was here. “I didn’t want to die yet. Not like that.”

“I’m sorry.” He breathed in, and his arms tightened protectively. “You have no idea how terrified I was. I’m so sorry…”

“Shh,” you whispered. You clung to him, soothed by his familiar cedar and citrus scent, fainter now after a long, harrowing day, mixed with the masculine smell of sweat.

“I’m glad you’re alive, too. I can’t lose you. I can’t. I love you more than anything.”

Soon—too soon, because you wanted to continue talking—you drifted to sleep in his arms. And once again too soon, you woke up with your entire abdomen on fire, and nurses bringing you pain medication. Rafael was still there, half asleep next to you in the narrow bed.

He didn’t leave you.

Even if it put you in danger, he would rather be beside you, making sure you were OK than cutting you out of his life and hoping the bad guys got the memo. He couldn’t put you through that pain, even if he could do it to himself. Especially when you pondered aloud to him whether you’d survived because you were thinking about him—that you refused to die before seeing him again, knowing what a wreck he would be.

Recovery was long, and interspersed with doing nothing but fall asleep when you’d rather stay awake, and not being able to sleep at all. Rafael (and his security detail) moved into your apartment when you were released from the hospital so he could take care of you—as grumpy and bossy and sarcastic as his bedside manner might be.

You swore you were going to sign up for Krav Maga or Cobra Kai or something once you could exercise again, since apparently you were not a secret knife-fighting ninja deep down. Next time, you wanted to be a badass who could fight back, and never let anyone harm your overzealous ADA when he kicked the hornet’s nest.

Eventually, you would convince him that it wasn’t his fault that bad guys had acted like bad guys. And he would convince you that taking care of you wasn’t a burden—that the emergency time off from work was worth it. He started replacing “sorry” with “I love you.”

In the end, while you wouldn’t say being stabbed was a good thing, or that you’d choose to be stabbed again if you had the option, it did ensure Heredio was put away for a long, long time. It left you with a cool scar, and a new catchphrase for expressing your displeasure—“I’d rather be stabbed again than do the dishes!”

Fine, it also left you jumpy and made your chest tight whenever you found yourself alone in an elevator.

But most importantly, it brought down the walls Rafael had been keeping up around himself. He talked to you more. You talked to each other more. And he remembered to—on occasion—take time out of his heroic, selfless life of battling injustice, and selfishly spend it with you.

• ● • ━━━━━─ ••●•• ─━━━━━ • ● •

@beccabarba / @itsjustmyfantasyroom / @dianilaws / @permanentlydizzy / @mrsrafaelbarba / @madamsnape921 / @astrangegirlsmind / @neely1177 / @onerestein / @delia26 / @stormtrooperofficerbrowneyes / @storiesofsvu​

[thanksjro]

More Than Meets the Eye #18- Rung Psychologically Tortures a Man with Poor Snack Management

So, Swerve’s having a less than stellar day, and for once it isn’t linked to his deep-rooted sense of self-loathing.

Good thing he already emptied those stills, otherwise this would be just the hugest mess.

Thanks to some off-panel Whirl shenanigans that took place prior to this storyline, Swerve had Brainstorm put in a few security measures. Of course, Brainstorm being Brainstorm, never does weaponry in any half-measures.

Still, it isn’t quite enough. Looks like Swerve’s going to have to break out the big guns for this guy.

There’s a lot going on here, so let’s break it down.

On the character side of things, it would appear that Swerve is a merciful god of robot booze, as he’s not yet banned anyone from his small business, even when he probably ought to- Fort Max I get, and Whirl has the whole “is also an Autobot” thing going on, but Cyclonus has actively attempted to murder Swerve in the past, and also is the closest thing to a Decepticon they’ve got on the ship at any given time.

On the weaponry side of things, it would seem that Swerve having blown his face clean off his skull back in issue #12 got back to Brainstorm, who- because he’s married to his career and loves a project- immediately got to work on a gun that Swerve could actually handle with his funky little cartoon-man hands. Of course, that doesn’t mean Swerve’s going to get away with his dignity intact, oh heavens no! This thing has a literal smiley face slapped on the front of it. Well, you know what they say: it’s Nerf or Nothing.

Swerve blasts a hole in the Legislator with his silly, silly gun, and the bar is saved from further destruction.

I like to imagine that Brainstorm recorded that victory line himself, because he wants to support his friends, in his own, bizarre way.

Things are looking rough for the rest of the Lost Light, as the Legislators have completely flooded the ship with their forces, as the crew do their best to fight them off. Blaster’s had his titty compartment blasted open. Huffer is screaming. The medics have taken to violence. Skids has broken out the brass knuckles and is making god-awful math puns. The Legislators are still coming, without any end in sight. It’s a real shitshow.

Over on Luna 1, it would appear that Ratchet immediately passed out after seeing Pharma, which is a fair response to seeing someone who’s supposed to be very much dead, I think. Pharma calls Lockdown, they have a bit of banter, and then the scene moves on to whatever Cyclonus and Whirl are doing.

Because these two are the only ones on the away team who can actually fly, they’ve broken off from the rest. Whirl’s getting antsy, and decides he’s gonna fight something. Cyclonus, though he does mention that Rodimus told them not to do exactly what Whirl is suggesting, seems to agree with this line of thought.

Speaking of Rodimus, him and the rest of the gang are zipping around on those M.A.R.B.s, though it appears as if some of the passengers have switched drivers. Rung’s over with Chromedome now, holding on to him for dear life. Maybe they’re having an impromptu grief counseling session as they run from danger. Tailgate’s with Rodimus, and he’s just pointed out that Ratchet got left behind. Rodimus can’t deal with that right now, though, and decides that they need to get away from all these gotdang Decepticons and then figure out their next step.

Then he’s distracted by the literal lineup of dead Titans just hanging out on the moon.

Luna 1’s kinda fucked up.

Cutting back to our framing device- nope, still haven’t gotten caught up with the present yet- Ambus asks what Rodimus did next. Well, a lot happened. A lot. Chromedome jumped out of his therapy session with Rung and transforms into his alt, which I want to say is the only time he’ll do it in MTMTE. Whirl and Cyclonus are faffing about in the sky, more or less toying with the Decepticons following them. Rodimus wants to pull another Fantastic Voyage, much to Tailgate’s horror.

Rodimus zooms into the first crack he sees, but doesn’t manage to lose his attackers. Tailgate provides commentary, as Rodimus wraps the little guy around his neck like a cape, leaps from the M.A.R.B., and does some super sick gymnastics, hanging from a pipe jutting out of the ceiling as the guys who were chasing them run into… well, I assume each other, but it’s not terribly clear.

Crisis avoided, Rodimus drops down, transforming as he does. Tailgate goes with him, because gravity is still a thing on the moon, and we get a reminder that he’s only got a couple days left to live. Unfortunately, it would appear he’ll be spending his final days rotting in a prison cell, as Lockdown shows up with everyone else in handcuffs, forcing Rodimus to come quietly. Everyone seems very put out by this whole situation, especially Brainstorm. He’s downright furious, probably because he got captured by the guy with a fish butt on his head.

Oh, the indignity of it all!

Then again, maybe he’s just focused on working up the cajones to ask just what the hell is going on on this super weird moon. Lockdown obviously isn’t a bad enough dude to be running this operation- we saw what happened the last time he went against someone who actually had the time to plan something out- so our away team has deduced that there’s someone higher up on the food chain here. Also, there’s the whole issue of money clearly being a major factor in all this.

That sort of tech doesn’t just fall out of the sky.

As they’re being walked down this corridor of tension building, Chromedome spies Ultra Magnus in an adjoining hallway. He calls to him, but is very solidly ignored. But there’s no time to worry about Magnus being a rude shit, because it’s time for character reveals!

There’s an interesting little detail about Tyrest’s character, which is a little hard to see given the layout of the art for this page, but here it is, on the end of his staff:

Now, I know that the Autobot badge was appropriated from a symbol meant to represent Primus, but that was millions of years ago. So much for being a neutral party, huh Tyrest?

Rodimus is real peeved about being chased, shot at, arrested, and held against his will, and fully intends to give Tyrest a piece of his mind. Tyrest isn’t interested, however, telling him to shove a sock in it, or be “held in contempt.” While this is happening, Perceptor and Brainstorm have noticed the positively humongous and positively ancient space bridge that Tyrest just has lying around in this room.

Oh no, this is about the baby field from last issue, isn’t it? Brainstorm’s going to jail for infant arson.

Rodimus greatly dislikes this whole situation, and expresses himself through the art of verbal abuse. Smash cut to them back in the cell, Ambus not seeming terribly impressed with how Rodimus handled himself with Tyrest.

The tale is finished, we know where we were. Now how to move forward?

Chromedome asks for a bit more information on our new friend, because the whole “Ambus” thing is throwing him off, and with good reason: how do you tell your late husband’s ex that you had to blow up your mutual partner to keep him from being eaten by a lippy bastard? But this isn’t the illustrious Dominus Ambus- this is MINIMUS Ambus, the lesser known brother. Chromedome/Dominus isn’t completely taken off the table, however, as Minimus uses some awkward phrases that seems to tell me Dominus isn’t confirmed dead.

Rung wants to know what Minimus’ whole deal is, seeing as he’s also in prison with the lot of them. Minimus explains that he’d been moving a shipment of energon derivatives, when Tyrest had arrested him for having traces of space cocaine in his goods.

Was taking his eye really necessary, Tyrest?

Minimus was placed into custody years ago, and has been awaiting trial this whole time. Not exactly sure why, seeing as this moon isn’t exactly off the chain populated. Maybe Tyrest’s just been busy doing things that are absolutely NOT nefarious in any form or fashion whatsoever.

Minimus mentions that he’s lost his Autobot badge, and Rung offers to let him borrow his own- which we’ve never seen him wear because it’s apparently too big for him- but Minimus would rather he wear it himself.

Tailgate doesn’t take to this bit of information about the appeals system very well, seeing as he’s not got years to wait around. He’s beginning to panic, not trusting Cyclonus and Whirl to break them out, and starts needling the others to do something. Brainstorm reveals that his briefcase, which he’s had this entire time, as he always does, has an attention deflector built into it, making it effectively invisible to Tyrest and his goons. Rung feels a certain kinship with the briefcase in that moment.

Imagine walking up to a widower and saying “Hey there, honeybunches, how about submitting to that crippling addiction your late spouse begged you to quit so we can bust out of prison?”

Of course, Tailgate’s only told Cyclonus about his condition, so no one’s exactly raring to go busting out, since they’ve assumed everyone present is effectively immortal.

Over on another part of the moon, Ratchet’s finally waking up from his stress-induced nap to find Pharma channeling his inner Jigsaw. Ratchet gives him some constructive criticism on his new hands, but Pharma’s kind of over listening to whatever Ratchet thinks.

Oh, I hope it’s one of those gag gifts where you open it and get hit in the face with a pie. Those are always a laugh.

Back on the Lost Light, Swerve is looking for his very best friend in the whole wide world. I really hope the feeling is mutual, because there’s no way Swerve would survive that sort of rejection.

The doors to the oil reservoir open, looking like the elevator scene from The Shining, and we see what’s become of our dear, dear Skidsy.

Skids is pretty sure all this Legislator nonsense is because of him, and he’s not about to let people die for his sorry butt today, no siree. He’s gonna save the day.

Then again, this is about where Star Saber pops into existence behind him and stabs him through the spine, so maybe not.

Behold, a bastard!

Star Saber in the IDW run is well-known as being a witch-hunting zealot who can and will commit acts of violence over any perceived slight against Primus he identifies in any given living creature. This is a stark removal from his original character, who is so pure-hearted, kind, and generous, he literally adopted an orphan to raise as his own son. So, what exactly happened here?

TMUK happened.

Back in the days before Roberts was a professional scriptwriter, back before IDW had the license for Transformers, the members of the TMUK fan group decided that Victory’s Star Saber was going to be evil. Why isn’t exactly clear, only that it was a decision that was made not by Roberts on his lonesome, but more as a collaborative effort. Of course, this Star Saber isn’t a one-to-one copy of the TMUK Star Saber- that guy was much more conniving and, uh, Hitler-y, than what we have here.

Getting back to the story, Swerve tries to save/avenge Skids, firing with his custom gun, only to miss every single shot.

Looks like there’s going to need to be a rework on the My First Blaster.

Swerve gets beaned over the head with the butt of Star Saber’s sword for his troubles, his visor shattering in the process. Damn, sure hope he’s got a reading prescription, and not anything he’ll actually need to see.

Back over on the moon, Ratchet’s pretty uninterested in playing Pharma’s little game. It’s just as well though, because, as it turns out, Pharma’s an impatient guy. Must be an absolute nightmare during the holiday season and birthdays. He throws open the box, revealing what’s inside.

THAT IS NOT PIE.

But we saw Ratchet’s face over on the other side of the room. How can he be in two places at once? Well, here’s the thing about Transformers…

They’re pretty darn hard to kill.

Back in the cell, Rung’s doing his part as a member of the away team by passing out snacks. Tailgate reveals his awful garbage disposal mouth. We get the down-low on Tyrest.

Once upon a time, Tyrest was an engineer. Then the war happened, shit got crazy, and suddenly he was organizing exoduses and peace talks with genocidal maniacs, and got appointed Chief Justice by the space pope himself.

Rodimus comes over to get in on the little snack party Rung and Tailgate are having, mentioning the Aequitas Trials- the very ones that were recorded onto Ironfist’s brain back in Last Stand of the Wreckers. Minimus comes over, warning Rodimus to keep hush-hush about those, since they’re top secret and all. Kind of a weird thing for you to do, Minimus. Hell, why do YOU know about these super secret trials, Mr. Nobody Trader Guy? Those were after Dominus disappeared, so it’s not like you had an in through your cool older brother.

Rodimus gives everyone the skinny on the trials, despite Minimus being weird about the whole thing.

Perceptor knows all this already, but I suppose it’s possible Rodimus is the only son of a gun who isn’t subscribed to Wreckers: Declassified and isn’t aware of Perceptor’s whole deal.

Minimus moves the topic over to the crew of the Lost Light, latching on to Skids specifically the moment he’s mentioned. Rung does his due diligence and offers Minimus a ride on the snack train. Minimus declines, Rung insists, and the box of space pocky is dropped on the floor.

Minimus goes to help Rung pick up the snacks, as Rung actively hinders the clean up effort.

Minimus is two seconds from snapping Rung’s scrawny little wrist like a toothpick if he doesn’t quit it. Luckily Rodimus is there to break up this positively bizarre situation. And then things get really weird.

Rung’s been watching Minimus since they got here, noticing things that were very familiar- speech patterns, mannerisms, tone, inflection, OCD behaviors, things like that. Once he developed enough of a hunch, Rung started intentionally antagonizing him by making a mess and putting his Autobot badge on in a way that isn’t up to standards. Why would he do this? Why would he want to cause an outburst in someone he just met?

Well, the thing is, he hasn’t just met Minimus Ambus. He’s actually been serving under him for the last year.

That’s a rather dark use of your doctorate, Rung, forcing a man to reveal his true identity by poking at his mental health until he was about to snap your neck over some candy. You did it so well, too.

Maybe you were on Kimia for more than just psych evals. What was your career officially called again? Psyops specialist is what they have listed on the Wiki. Truth be told, I don’t even know what that entails. Let’s look it up, shall we?

...I guess therapy is his side gig?

So either Roberts meant something else entirely, or Rung is actually super fucking scary.

[theofficersacademy]

"Good afternoon ladies and gentlemen, and welcome to our annual Floralia Dragonboat Race! I am Ted Rumsworth, happy to commentate the action here at the foot of the Airmid River.”

"And I'm Archie Hicks, and folks, it's always an honor and pleasure to see these bright young minds duke it out on the water."

"Indeed it is, Archie. Of course we have our three esteemed houses readying their boats. First in the lineup is the Black Eagle House, and their boat sports a... piñata bearing some resemblance to their House Leader this year.”

“Quite unique, if I do say so myself! You know, Ted, I’m personally rooting for my old House, the Blue Lions. Their boat is looking snazzy with that fire-breathing lion head and blue ribbons! Better than anything me and the lads came up with.”

“You know, now that you mention it, I ought to get a better look at my old House. The Golden Deer have always prided themselves on tasteful, beautiful–…”

"Wow! Bold design decisions coming from the Golden Deer!”

“By the Goddess, is that a golem?”

“I believe the correct term is gundam, Ted.”

"Right, moving on to the Faculty… mmm…”

“Ha! Rafts of fantasy cardboard! You can’t beat their creativity, that’s for sure.”

“We’ll call it that, Archie. The question is, will it be enough to beat out their competitors in the race?”

“I couldn’t tell ya, Ted, but I’m sure they’re hoping for an upset.”

“The competitors are lining up at their starting positions. And… they’re off!

The Faculty come out of the gate strong, they have claimed the top spot early. Close behind… is-is that-did someone illegally enter the race?”

“They’re not registered in the race, Ted, but it seems like the officials have no intention of starting the race over!”

“We’ve just received word to refer to them as the Ashen Wolves. They look to be a small team, but with all those gadgets attached to that boat of theirs, they won’t be an easy opponent. “

“Don’t count our houses out, though! The Blue Lions and the Golden Deer are neck and neck, with the Lions just barely pulling ahead. Black Eagles, suffering from a late start as they trail behind the pack, but this is still anybody’s race, folks.”

“Right you are-by the Goddess! It looks like the Golden Deer have activated the golem component of their boat!”

“The gundam component, Ted, and they are attempting a move you rarely see in these boat races: the shuffleboard front twist! Performed correctly, it can give the Golden Deer House an insurmountable lead! They bend the knees, launch into the air–!”

“Oooh, no good, folks. They jumped in front of the Lions and Wolves, but not far enough to overtake the Faculty. The aftershocks seems to have rattled everyone nearby, however. The pack is tightening, the Faculty still maintain their lead. In the back are the Black Eagles–“

“Not anymore, Ted! Seems like the Black Eagles are finally busting out their hardware. Looks like those flame decals weren’t just for show. By the Goddess’ lips, look at them fly! The Black Eagles, soaring past the Lions, now neck and neck with the Wolves for third place. Oh! The Ashen Wolves, sent careening after the Black Eagles slams them against the riverbanks! Stopped in their tracks, the Wolves get left in the dust.”

“And the Eagles are still going! Past the Golden Deer, now past the Faculty, they easily take the lead! You’ve never seen an upset like this, folks, but will the Eagles keep the momentum going?”

“Not if your House has anything to say about it! The Golden Deer, taking advantage of the confusion as they push forward, coming close behind to the Eagles. The Faculty seem shaken, but they haven’t given up yet!”

“Behind them, the Lions, looking to take their position. Still looking like the Ashen Wolves will not be able to finish the race…

Uh oh. Smoke from the Golden Deer boat! They are in a panic–a few have starting rowing, but it is no good.”

“The Blue Lions blaze past them, that lion’s mouth spitting fire that you definitely do not want to touch. The Faculty, overtaking them.”

“Looks like this is the end of the Golden Deer’s dream for Floralia greatness, folks. We are coming up on the last leg of the race. The Black Eagles, maintaining their lead, even as the Lions challenge them from behind.”

“...By the Goddess’–Ted! Ha, would you look at that! Coming forward with unholy speed and fury, it’s the Ashen Wolves! The Wolves, easily overtaking the Golden Deer!”

“Fury is the right of it, Archie. They aren’t here to play! Boooooom, ooh! Plowing through the Faculty boat! There’s no recovery for them, folks, that fantasy cardboard is soaked right through.”

It’s neck and neck between the Wolves, Lions, and Eagles. The Blue Lions, just barely ahead, the Black Eagles are getting ready to sprint to the finish line–“

“–No! The Ashen Wolves, denying them that chance! Their boat has slammed into the Eagles’. There’s some poetic karma coming to bite them in the ass here. This was the very move that nearly dashed the Wolves’ hopes!”

“The Blue Lions, taking advantage of the commotion, pushing one last time towards the finish line! The Ashen Wolves pursue them…

...but it’s not enough!”

“The Blue Lions take home the prize!”

Final Results:

[roglama]

How to Setup and Use Spinning Rod and Reel

Are you frustrated with the boring process of preparing and learning how to utilize your spinning rod and reel? If that's the case, have no fear! You have found the Instructable that will show you all you want to know about your spinning reel and rod. Although it is initially hard to set up and use, the spinning rod and reel will enhance your fishing abilities and will give you the versatility you need to capture virtually any type of fish.

With no prior knowledge or skill on spinning rods and reels, this Instructable will take you about 30 minutes to complete. However, with a little more experience, setting up your rod and reel will take you just 10 minutes of your time.

Insert TipAsk QuestionCommentDownload

Step 1: Gather Your Equipment

Gather Your Equipment

Gather Your Equipment

Gather Your Equipment2 More Images

In case you have not bought your spinning reel, then you must first research what Sort of reel will suit your needs

Here are informative sites from Bass Pro Shops and Cabelas to get you started

You should also see a near by Cabelas, Bass Pro Shops, or Gander Mountain and Speak with their fishing department to determine what reel is best for you

Spinning Rod

Frequently times spinning sticks will be designed to go with specific reels. Thus, I would recommend that you enter your Regional fishing store to ensure you get the pole that you need

Fishing Line

The type of fishing line you may use is completely dependent upon what type of fish you are fishing for

Here is a helpful website from trails.com that reveals the basic Kinds of fishing line

Bait/hook

The sort of lure you should use also depends on what you are fishing for. Research this until you go fishing.

Tip: Bring multiple types of bait when fishing, as fish will favor Unique baits throughout different days

Scissors

No researching here! Any kind of scissors will operate

Add TipAsk QuestionCommentDownload

Step 2: Understand the Important Parts of this Equipment

Understand the Vital Areas of the Equipment

Understand the Important Parts of the Gear

Spool

The spool is what the fishing line is wound around

Manage

If the handle turns, line is pushed back into the reel

Bail

The bail is a metal arm that may stop the line from coming out of the spool

When"closed", little to no point can come from the spool

When"open", line may come from the spool freely

The reel foot is like a puzzle piece that securely connects the pole to the reel

The drag knob allows you to set how easily line can come from the spool when the bail is closed

When the understand is"tightened", line Can't come out of the spool with the bail closed

When the knob is"loosened", line can come out of the spool with hardly any force employed when the bail is shut

Line Roller

The line roller correctly guides the line from the spool into the pole

Rod Tip

The tip is the last 4 inches of the pole and can be the thinnest part of the pole to help you sense when a fish bites

Caution: Be aware of where the tip of the rod is, even as it is the easiest part of the pole to split

Guides

Guides are bands which the line passes through and so are there to keep the line near the pole

The reel seat is another"puzzle piece" the reel ft connects to this overlooks the reel to the pole

Handle

The handle is usually made up of a softer material than the rod, as it's exactly what you will be holding the entire time you are fishing

Insert TipAsk QuestionCommentDownload

Step 3: Connect the Reel to the Rod

Join the Reel to the Rod

Join the Reel to the Rod

Connect the Reel to the Rod Loosen the reel seat (about the rod)

Make the real seat big enough so that the reel foot can match

2. Set the reel foot into the reel seat Tighten the reel seat

Caution: When the reel can wobble from the reel fastener, repeat these steps until the reel is hardy

Insert TipAsk QuestionCommentDownload

Measure 4: Spool the Reel

Spool that the Reel2 More Images

Spooling, or placing line on, the reel is a vital measure to fishing, and can result in frustration and difficulties when fishing if performed improperly.

1. Open the Bail Place the line round the reel once

This will lead to two"bits" online (they're still connected around the reel) Tie a standard knot (technically the"Overhand knot") with these two"bits"

Here is an informative site if you need help tying the knot Tie another knot together with the resulting pieces of line

5. Cut the loose piece of line roughly 1/4" away from the reel

6. Close to the bail Tightly hold the line a foot away from the reel

This will prevent the line from getting tangled when the line is put on the reel Turn the reel until the desired amount of line is about the reel

The Quantity of line needed depends on what kind of reel you've got as well as what Sort of line You're using

Some reels have a"Line Cap" marked on their side, telling you the maximum Quantity of line for the reel

Insert TipAsk QuestionCommentDownload

Measure 5: String the Rod

String that the Rod

String the Rod

String the Rod Grab the tip of this line with one hand

3. Put the line through each of the pole guides

Start at the bottom guide and finish at the tip

Caution: Don't Give up the line or it may fall back through the guides

Add TipAsk QuestionCommentDownload

Within this step, I will show you how to tie the fundamental fishing knot. The good thing about this knot is that it is easy and requires a minimal quantity of time to complete. But it's not a durable strong knot, which means it could loosen over time, making it feasible to get a fish to pull the knot out. If you are fishing for fish more than 15 lbs or you just want to be ambitious, here are a Couple of complicated knots that can stay together forever

Palomar knot (my personal favorite)

Clinch knot

And many more!

Note: I'm tying on a crank bait in the pictures, but you may use this knot on any kind of hook or bait.

1. Place the line through the eye of the hook, making one"bit" of line on each side of the hook

Tip: Hold the line with your thumb and pointer finger

2. While holding each piece in two Distinct hands, cross 1 piece over to the other hand

You should now have both pieces of line in one hand

There Ought to be a loose loop around your pointer finger

The must also be a piece of line dangling from the pointer finger and thumb Put the dangling piece of line via the loop

The circle should stay intact once you remove your pointer finger.

When the circle falls aside, repeat step two and Put the dangling line through the other end of this loop Tighten the knot by pulling on the two ends of the line

5. Repeat this step at least 3 more times to ensure the knot will not come loose

6. Snip the line about a 1/4" from the eye of the hook

Caution: Don't cut the line on the pole!

Add TipAsk QuestionCommentDownload

Step 7: Set the Drag Knob

Establish the Drag Knob

1. Twist the drag knob clockwise to tighten or counterclockwise to loosen

2. Gently pull line from the reel to Find out how the drag has been effected

3. Repeat these steps until the drag is put at a desirable Volume

It will take experience to determine what to put your drag to, so ask someone with more experience if possible

If that somebody is unavailable, set your drag on the loose side, as placing it too tight can cause the point to break if reeling in a fish

Setting the drag should always be performed before you begin fishing. However, you CAN change the haul while fishing, if you realize the drag is too loose or too tight. Here are hints and results that will happen if the haul Isn't set correctly:

Drag is loose

The fish can easily take line out of the reel

The hook will probably have little tension from the fish's mouth, allowing the fish to spit out the hook

Drag is tight

The rod is bending a whole lot, but the fish is not taking out any lineup

The line will have too much tension in it, causing the line to crack

It is important to be aware that when reeling in a fish, the fish ought to be able to take line from the reel (unless the fish is quite small). How tight the haul will be will depend on which type of fish you are fishing for and what type of line you are using. You will quickly learn what your drag needs to be put to once you reach out into the water and begin fishing.

Add TipAsk QuestionCommentDownload

Step 8: Cast the Bait

Cast the Bait

Cast the Bait

Cast the Bait2 More Images

1. Allow about 1-1 1/2 ft online to hang from the tip of the rod

2. Hold the pole a few inches above the base of the reel in Addition to the line parallel to the pole

Utilize the hand that you will reel in with

3. On the contrary hand, open the bail

When the hook dropped, make sure you are holding the correct line in measure 1

4. Hold the base of the rod with the same hand as in step 2

5. Lean the rod backwardsaway from your target

The pole should be tilted around a stage in between your two palms

6. Quickly swing the rod towards your target and launch your hand from step 1 in the top of your throw

Caution: Hold on tight with your hand from step 3 or you might find yourself fishing rod.

If your bait just landed two feet in front of you, do not worry! It happens to everyone when they are learning how to throw. Just keep practicing and you will master projecting in no time!

Here's a helpful video for learning how to throw. (This movie also demonstrates how to pitch in, the next step)

Add TipAsk QuestionCommentDownload

Measure 9: Reel at the Line

Reel in the Line

Reel at the Line

1. Close the Bail

2. Place the lineup in the line roller

3. Turn the reel handle

This measure describes the fundamental mechanics of reeling in the line. But, there are lots of unique ways which you can reel in. You can reel in quick or slow, you can reel in at a steady speed or you can ditch the lure in at fast and slow spans and you can reel with the rod tip up or down, simply to mention a couple. There is not any ideal approach to account for each of these factors, since the fish will favor unique methods during the year, day, month and sometimes even hour. Some things that determine what the fish need are the water temperature, the time of day, the weather, and also the type of bait you're using, together with countless other facets.

Insert TipAsk QuestionCommentDownload

Step 10: Catch Some Fish!!!

Catch Some Fish!!!

Congratulations! You've completed the essential steps and your spinning rod and reel is ready to fish. At this time you get to reap the rewards from the time and work that you put in. So hang the"Gone Fishin'" sign and go catch some fish!

If I forgot anything or whether you're confused about one of the measures, please comment below so I can upgrade the Instructable.

[hyatt289]

Gangnam Pool Salon

Type.1

Attempt to get your #1 decision, near your optimal kind with the Gangnam Pool Salon Magic Mirror. Table time Start with a flabbergasting talk time. Is it exact to express that you are fascinated about the association that uncovers your not-pretty body? You can encounter the enormous course of the full salon that adds more warmth 강남야구장 .

Setting: Western alcohol + blend + snacks are served unfathomably during table time.

Brief Introduction of Gangnam Pool Salon

Gangnam Full Salon Club Choice and Magic Mirror Choice NEW Lineup Meet New Face each week. The water thought of the more settled sisters is besides managed multiple times every week and 30 new faces are enlisted each week.

Why? Is it definite to express that you are searching for Gangnam Pool Salon?

On non-finish of the week days, around 70 to 90 individuals go to work a day

Up to 120 individuals go to oversee Thursdays, Fridays, and Saturdays on peak days

200% affirmation for clients' first and last'close care'

You are a visitor precisely at the way, and when you enter, the body is totally covered? never! Not a tiny smidgen thusly

The rule size, correct? 'Reality barring' headings without lies in any circumstance

Tolerantly endeavor to call us going before visiting, so please reach us as we plan of time.

At the Gangnam Pool Salon, the notable place purpose of karaoke, you are mindfully served to remarkable beverages, diversion, and social affairs.

​

We serve you with the best conditions and central focuses. Sensible cost and unlimited assistance occasion cost. It is a gigantic degree business in Gangnam zone with extreme work environments and a full salon structure open 365 days out of every year. For different social affairs, drinking parties, social gatherings, feasts, and so forth, it is critical to save a spot for Gangnam Pool Salon to get the authentic occasion cost.

Securities while utilizing the pool salon

When visiting a pool salon, there are different emotions not equal to when you have a novice's brain and when you get ability with the atmosphere at last. This is where an unfathomable assortment of individuals total. So this time, for tenderfoots, I will quickly present the things that individuals who first taste a spot called Room Salon and Pool Salon ought to be cautious. Plainly, I will unveil to you that I have in addition implied others' records.

1. Powerful shot checking (overall basic)

You should move inside the degree of your capacity. It is major to check your capacities first. It is unquestionably not an unassuming measure of cash, yet in the event that you would lean toward not to run each day and don't bounce.

2. Be educated.

In the event that you experience a practically identical extent of cash, you should go to stores with unprecedented worth/execution degree. At last, for amateurs toward the room, it is more splendid to have a semi-semi-public or semi-public level. (These are relationship with breathtaking worth execution degree). Experience the baseball field association.

3. Excusal the irreverence.

I'm paying and playing notwithstanding. Attributes are besides paid and changed. In the event that you're not doing anything you acknowledge is really horrendous, break the iron plate with some impediment and hit it. Precisely when you go to the store, we will see and serve you. The issue is, don't simply look at the records of the subject matter experts and follow them, play the way where I need to play. So

In the event that it doesn't work, I'm searching for another way. It appeared as though it was conceivable to change.

4. In the event that you are a juvenile, go with a veteran.

Go to the store and play with the amateur tea. You will have those encounters. In such a case, go with Kosubun around you (it would be better in the event that you partake in the social event) and sort out some approach to play, how to end, and the major air. This is the techniques by which you don't consider the essential fight later.

5. Take the necessary steps not to ostensibly connect with your sister.

It's not so much as a film... . Surrender the inclination with your business sister. I consider it later. Most fledglings go to a few affiliations, begin to look all optimistic at, and offer up chances and work. Anyway, the room salon is a spot to appreciate. Make a heavenly sweetheart with the time and cash to make an extraordinary love. Plainly, there are good individuals among them, in any case they can sting each other continually. One is selling associations and the other is purchasing associations. Consistently review this.

6. Find new nightlife, various types of nightlife.

Demolished water sums. Put forth an attempt not to live there considering the way that you defeated one of the day and night long sky. Have enough information for the most part. You become depleted of near side dishes each day. It is the delight when you discover one more night culture!!

7. Standard clients are decently treat?

(It very well might be, yet there are different business heads who are not ^^)

It relies on the business, regardless… . By some way or another, in the event that you get to know your face and become a regular, the possibility of association might be chopped down. The partition between an association that attempts to make a standard client startlingly and an association that generally applies to a reformist client should quiet. Thusly, rather than holding one spot, we go here and discussion about another room. Unmistakably you should finish it to the laborer or the chief, it doesn't mean anything to the more arranged sisters... . That way, you are consistently treated as another visitor. Do it well.

8. Take careful time the heads. (Pool salons are prescribed to visit occasions before 8 o'clock, at any rate before 10 o'clock and after 1 AM. Regularly, 10 PM to 1 AM is the pinnacle.)

Particularly wedded men, do you understand what I mean? Moreover, beginners… Watch when you go to the business. Any spot you go, there are dynamic occasions and torpid occasions. I would propose an extra time at whatever point conceivable. In the event that the time is past the last defining moment, the sisters in the business additionally battle with the weariness of the day. Carrot association? It will whirl exactly as expected. The best time is that the morning class begins before 8:00 or after the night class begins at 12:00... In the event that you go to this time, you will get phenomenal help. Obviously, when there aren't different clients like nowadays, I figure you can simply talk early.

9. Know your taste

Every individual has a substitute taste, so analyze and go to the recognize that suits your taste. Several people express that the average is commendable, and some express the semi-style is sufficient. Everybody dependably has their own style. Consider that style and appreciate. In addition, it clearly sees that style in your #1 records.

10. Go to a proposed business that has been genuinely checked by the baseball field association.

Inappropriate direct past your sister's significant body contact!

Welcome or Reports-When the decision is done and masterminds are doled out, the more arranged sisters welcome you. As for welcome in a room salon, a large portion of the more arranged sisters stand up independently and state "Welcome, this is XXX" and plunk down. Generally speaking you don't. (The full salon has another style.)

Drinking-Drinking starts once the welcome is finished. On the off chance that you began with a wrecked atmosphere, you need to raise the air genuinely more. The most extensively saw way is sensation. This is the condition when you request some brew and from there on interest that your more settled sisters make bomb wine. If all else fails, about piece of the alcohol is filled the alcohol glass, and a brief timeframe later the alcohol is filled the lager glass, and accordingly around 7 pieces of the blend is poured. In the wake of having a beverage with the individuals first, you can embrace a reward to your sister close by. Regardless of whether you don't give anything, the more settled sisters who are the nuts and bolts will request a beverage.

The point-you never need to go to a bar and smack your sisters. Notwithstanding, in any event you ought to be human. An immense piece of the clients are the individuals who work for the term of the day and now just need to get back, yet they are in a condition to work. In like way, since she is a lady, she has genuinely less capacity to manage liquor than men. It is obliging not to force liquor extravagantly hard. On the off chance that you do this, the intoxication will customarily rise and the messed up atmosphere will vanish.

Games-not needed. Regardless, one of the fabulous approaches to manage make an agreeable climate. We should investigate the game later. All around, I play several games, in any case the significance isn't in the game, yet in the controls applied when I lose the game. By and large, there are different events of one-shot of the plane.

Precisely when the more arranged sisters win, there are times when they call a dull knight (usually an accomplice) to drink for them, and if a similar visitor keeps winning, there is in like way a faint rose call that the associate sister drinks for her. Likewise, there are various controls, for example, kissing and leaving lip marks on the chest. There is no norm or formal request, so it is OK to make it yourself and like it. Regardless, if a lot of interest is made before the closeness between one another is formed, it will as a rule be counterproductive.

[buttdawg]

G1 Climax 30 Predictions

I’m not sure how this is going to work, but I want to try to organize all my predictions on this one post, so I can find them all later when Gedo crushes my dreams.  

WINNER: I’m going with SANADA this year.   He’s a cool dude, he deserves a push, and even if he loses the briefcase or whizzes his title shot at WK15, it would still be cool to see a fresh face win the G1 tournament.  

Bolstering my reasoning, he’s slated to face EVIL on the final night for B-Block.   There’s a couple of other matches that night that would make a suitable main event for that show, but they used to be bros in LIJ, and they used to be a tag team within LIJ, so this seems like a good match to decide the winner of B-Block.   And EVIL should lose that match because EVIL fucking sucks.

RUNNER UP: Kazuchika Okada.   NJPW has depicted Okada as going through a slump in 2020, which is kind of dumb, since they’ve been doing the exact same angle with Tanahashi at the same time, and Tana’s older so it makes more sense.  I guess the main difference with Okada is that he still wins a lot of matches but can’t quite clinch the big ones, where Tanahashi seems to have trouble all the time.  So it probably adds up for him to win A-Block, then lose the finals. 

Mostly, I just want to see a renewal of the one-sided SANDA/Okada rivalry, since they had a good match at last year’s G1, and then the title match a few months later at... I don’t remember the names of these shows.    “Halloween Havoc in Okayama 10.7″.    Let’s just call it that.

Looking at the final night of A-Block, Okada’s facing Will Ospreay, and that also seems like a big enough match to decide a tournament block.   Maybe this isn’t an important factor, but I see Jeff Cobb facing Yujiro Takahashi on the same card, and I’m pretty sure that means Jeff Cobb ain’t winning no A-Block anytime soon.

FIRST TO TEN POINTS.   This is something I noticed last year, when I picked Jon Moxley and Okada to win their respective blocks.   Starting out, I thought they were a lock to win, because they won five matches in a row, but they couldn’t keep the streak alive, and their opponents started to catch up.    But they were still right there in the mix until the very end, so it seems to me that this is probably a feature of every round-robin tournament.   Someone has to crack five wins early on, and yet that guy probably isn’t going to win, because it would make the back half of the tournament seem unimportant.  

But it seems like racking up that big score up-front is kind of an achievement in itself.     I wasn’t familiar with NJPW’s roster last year, so I didn’t realize the calibur of guys Moxley was beating, but they put him over the Intercontinental AND the NEVER Openweight champions.  

This year, I figure Tetsuya Naito ought to be in that kind of role, since he’s the double-champion, and this whole tournament is for a shot as his titles, so he ought to look really dominant, even if he doesn’t win.  

For A-Block, let’s go with Kota Ibushi, just because I feel like they’re trying to make us think he’s got a shot at winning back-to-back G1′s, except he’s in the midst of a hot tag team program, so I have a hard time seeing him actually winning.  

FIRST TO EIGHT POINTS.   I don’t know the mathematics of how many possible wrestlers can reach eight points at the same time, but I’m going to pick two from each block.  For A-Block, Jay White lost his first four matches in G1 29, so let’s have him flip the script this year.   He’s finally back in Japan, so let’s see him make a strong start in this tournament.   And maybe Tomohiro Ishii, because why not?

Over in B-Block, uhhhhhh, let’s go with EVIL and KENTA. 

I’m not going over the match lineups very carefully here, so maybe there’s logical reasons for these picks being impossible, but I’m just trying to throw out some names and see what shakes out here.  

WINNING RECORD, TEN+ POINTS.   This seemed to be a point of pride for the wrestlers in the second half of the tournament.   There’s 18 dates for the tour, nine for each block, and after Day 12 or so it’s pretty clear who’s in the lead and who probably won’t catch up.  In particular, I remember Tanahashi being upset about finishing with a 4-5 record.   You’d expect about half of the participants to have a winning record, so I’m going to try to pick them out here.

A BLOCK

Kazuchika Okada

Kota Ibushi

Tomohiro Ishii

Jay White

Taichi

B-BLOCK

SANADA

Tetsuya Naito

EVIL

KENTA

Hirooki Goto

MISCELLANEOUS PREDICTIONS.

1) Yujiro Takahashi goes 0-9 through A-Block.     Look, this guy’s been feuding with Okada all summer, and one time Okada let two guys help Yujiro and he still lost.    NJPW can pretend that he’s not Wile E. Coyote, but that doesn’t mean I have to buy it.  

2) Toru Yano finishes 2-7 through B-Block.    I think normally Yano does a respectable showing at these things, because he’s comic relief, and it doesn’t really matter whether he wins or loses.  But this year he’s got the KOPW trophy, and I assume that means whoever beats him here gets a shot at the trophy later.   Personally, I want to see him have to defend the trophy many, many times, or at least he should be extremely anxious about the prospect of that. 

3) Hirooki Goto ties for second place in B-Block.   Not sure how that should shake out, but it happened last year, and I dig Goto’s comeback story.   He doesn’t make huge waves in New Japan, but he won the NEVER Openweight title, and I think he should have a respectable showing here, whatever that is. 

4) Taichi d. Minoru Suzuki in A Block.   Normally, I would bet that all the horses will have a fun time, but the odds of that are 100% here, so I’m going to pick Taichi to fuck Suzuki up.

5) YOSHI-HASHI only loses to guys who wouldn’t challenge him for his coveted NEVER 6-Man Tag Championship.    I think the dude should do okay in this G1, but let’s not go nuts.   Tanahashi’s beating him, Naito’s beating him, Goto’s beating him, ZSJ’s beating him, Kenta’s beating him, and EVIL’s beating him.   But none of those guys would bother challenging him for his 6-Man tag title, because they have bigger fish to fry.    So the only people YOSHI-HASHI should defeat are SANADA, Yano, and Juice Robinson.   Please defeat Juice.    Please.

6) Juice Robinson sucks.    More of a statement of fact than a prediction, but I stand by it.

[guitarplayingastrophysicist]

B-Side Blowjobs

Pairing: Roger Taylor x Reader

Summary: As Roger’s girlfriend, you hang out with the band a lot at Ridge Farm while they record their new album. One of the days you’re visiting, however, is the day your boyfriend decides to lock himself in a cupboard.

Permanent Taglist: @xgoingdownx

It was Ridge Farm, 1975, and you were visiting your boyfriend Roger Taylor at the farm while his band Queen recorded their new album. Currently, the band was near the end of the recording process, and only minor tweaks were being made on songs and the placement of said songs on the record was being hammered out over afternoon tea by the four band members, while you sat and watched. The song in question presently being discussed amongst the band was one “I’m In Love With My Car”, aka the pride and joy of Roger, who wanted it to be b-side to a rock opera Freddie called “Bohemian Rhapsody”. So far, Roger’s argument wasn’t going over well. 

“I just don’t understand why there has to be any discussion on this!” Roger said exasperatedly. “I put my heart and soul into that song!”  

“Nobody’s doubting that, Rog.“ Brian began gently. “It’s just...” He paused and took a measured breath, then continued hesitantly. “Perhaps it isn’t strong enough?” 

“Isn’t strong enough?” repeated Roger, growing steadily more incredulous. “What does that even mean, ‘isn’t strong enough’?” 

You groaned under your breath, you could see your boyfriend’s all-too-quick temper getting the best of him.

“It’s just—“ began Brian. 

“It’s just nothing!” Roger spat. “That song is just as good as any of yours, you just want one of your songs as the b-side!”

“It’s not that, Rog.” Deaky said calmly, clearly trying to settle the mood. 

“Then what is it?” Roger demanded, sitting down his teacup with a clatter. “Tell me what it is, then!”  

You sighed, seeing this was not going to be pretty, and figured you’d better excuse yourself from this particular discussion. You made eye contact with Freddie, mimed a smoking gesture, and slipped out of the room. 

You had just stepped outside the farmhouse  with the cigarette you’d stolen from Roger’s pack in his room when there was an almighty crash from the kitchen where the band was, and the sound of breaking china. You rolled your eyes, clutched your cigarette between your fingers, and hurried off to see what the commotion was. 

“FUCK ALL YOU LOT!” you heard Roger scream as you ran down the hallway towards the kitchen. “TRY TO RECORD AN ALBUM NOW!” 

There was a loud slam of some sort of door, and when you entered back into the room, you found Brian, Deaky, and Freddie standing in the middle of a mess of broken teacups, a pool of spilled tea, and an overturned table. 

“What the hell happened?” you demanded, staring in horrified shock at the destruction before you.

“Your car fucking boyfriend flipped the table, darling,” Freddie said, daintily taking a sip from his miraculously still-intact tea cup.

“He also got tea on my shirt.” added Deaky, poking unhappily at his stained polo shirt. 

“And...then the kicker is now he’s locked himself in the storage cupboard.” finished Brian, his mouth set in a hard line.

“He’s done what?” you said, blinking at him. 

“Locked himself in.” Brian repeated, nodding to the storage pantry in the corner of the kitchen. “He says he won’t come out until we make his car song the b-side to ‘Bohemian Rhapsody’.” 

“It’s ‘I’m In Love With My Car’, you twat!” yelled Roger, but you were unable to discern the source of his muffled voice.

Still in shock, you looked between Deaky, Freddie, and Brian, before walking over to the pantry door and rapping on it experimentally. 

“Rog?” you called through the door. “Are you in there?” 

“Yes!” your boyfriend’s voice came defiantly from within the confines of the cupboard. “And I’m not coming out until they agree to my terms!”  

You rolled your eyes, Roger always had a penchant for being dramatic. 

“Roger, you can’t stay in there all evening!” you insisted.

“Why the hell not?” he yelled back. “There’s loads of food in here!” 

Behind you, Queen’s guitarist gave an exasperated sigh. 

“Roger, I swear,” Brian said loudly, fingertips pressed against his temples in what was apparently an effort to remain levelheaded. “Either you open that door, or I’ll break it down myself.”

“Oh yeah?” Roger shouted back. “What’re you gonna use, that beloved fireplace you call a guitar?” 

Shit, you thought, he’s done it now.

In a flash, Brian had stepped over the broken glass, thrown off Deaky’s arm on his shoulder, and made for the door to the cupboard, which you immediately stepped in front of. 

“Get out of the way, Y/N.” he said firmly, fingers balled into fists.

“Not if you’re going to break the door down.” you said, not moving an inch. You knew Brian, he would sooner kill a fly than raise a hand against you. 

“This is a band discussion.” Brian said, his voice stern, but still calmer than he looked. “Let us handle this.” He took another step forward, and you intercepted him with a hand on his chest.

“You want him out of the cupboard, then you need to let me talk to him.” you said, low enough that only Brian, Freddie, and Deaky could hear you. “In the meantime, piss off until he calms down.” 

Brian eyed you for a moment longer, then finally sighed, turned on his heel, and stalked out of the kitchen. Freddie muttered something about needing a smoke and walked off quickly in the direction of his bedroom. Suddenly, you were alone in the kitchen with Deaky, who was still standing in the middle of the broken china and spilled tea. 

“Well,” he sighed after a moment, kicking at a bit of broken teacup on the floor. “So much for finishing the album lineup today.” 

You gave him a sympathetic look, starting over to help him when he grabbed the table to turn it upright, but he held out a hand to stop you. 

“Don’t, love. There’s glass everywhere.” he said quietly, gesturing to the floor. Deaky easily turned the table upright again, and stepped through the puddle of tea to put a hand on your shoulder. “Don’t worry about this mess, we’ll clean it later. Just...try to get him out of there.” He nodded in the direction of the cupboard. 

“I’ll do what I can, Deaks.” you promised him.

He nodded, gave your shoulder a pat, and squinted in the direction of the kitchen window. 

“I’d best go make sure Brian hasn’t flung himself off a cliff,” he said, giving you a small smirk. “It’s going to be supremely hard to finish this album without a drummer and guitarist.” 

You chuckled at his comment, happy for him lightening the mood, and waited for him to pad out of the kitchen before you knocked on the door of the cupboard again. 

“Rog, they’re gone.” you called. “Come out now.” 

“‘Fraid I can’t do that, love.” came Roger’s casual reply back through the hard wood. “Not until they agree to my terms.” 

You rolled your eyes, but kept your cool. If he wanted to play games, you could play them too.

“Fine.” you said, straightening up. “If you won’t come out, then let me come in.” 

There was silence from inside the cupboard, then came a sigh and the click of the lock, and you smirked. You opened the door slowly, and took in the sight of Roger sitting on the floor with his knees to his chest, leaning his back up against the bottom row of storage shelves that lined the walls. You stepped inside the storage cupboard gingerly, where there was just enough room for you to sit down across from Rog and be knee to knee with him. You did so, and placed a gentle hand on his knees when you sat down. 

“Rog, I know you’re upset—“

“I’m beyond upset, Y/N.” Roger said simply, staring off into space. He shook his head and scrunched his face in frustration. “They won’t even listen to me.”

“They won’t listen to you when you’re locked in a food cupboard.” you said, cutting him off and giving him a pointed look. “I mean, you have to admit this is a bit much—“ 

Roger’s head snapped up. 

“Oh, don’t tell me you actually agree with them!” he groaned, and made to stand up, which was difficult to do in such a tiny space. “My own girlfriend—“ 

“Roger,” you said, standing up and trying to put your hands on his shoulders. “Honey, I just mean that maybe the guys have a point! You doing this is a bit dramatic, don’t you think?” 

“Jesus! What are you, my mother?” Roger snapped, shaking out of your grip. “You ought to date Brian instead, your attitudes are a match for each other.”

Your hand connected hard with the side of Roger’s face, and he yelped in pain, reeling back into the shelves behind him and clutching the offended cheek in surprise. 

“You’ve got a lot of nerve saying that shit to me,” you fumed, as he stared at you in shock. “I am the only friend you really have right now, so I suggest you either listen to my advice on how to make things right, or you plan to get cozy and spend the night in here! Understand?”  

You stared at him, waiting for a reply, but he only flushed scarlet across from you and shifted his hips uncomfortably, eyes cast downwards.

You followed his gaze southward, and took in the sight of the prominent bulge making itself known in Roger’s pants.

“Oh Jesus Christ, Rog, seriously?”  

“I’m sorry!” Roger sputtered, exasperated. “You know how I get when you boss me around!” 

“That doesn’t mean you have to—“ you gestured to his crotch furiously, and rolled the eyes when it visibly twitched. “Oh for the love of God—“ 

“Just stop yelling at me, alright?” Roger said, hastily unzipping his pants and thrusting a hand down his underwear. “You go, I’ll take care of this.” 

You watched his face contort in relief as his hand finally reached his cock, giving it a hard pump...and suddenly you had an idea.

“Rog, stop.” 

“What?” he muttered, clearly not hearing you, as his eyes were still closed and his hand still gripped his length. 

“Stop.” you grabbed the hand he currently had thrust down his pants and Roger’s eyes flew open. 

“If you agree to stop acting like a goddamn child and man up, and listen to what the guys have to say...” you began slowly. “Then I’ll take care of that for you.” You nodded to his length that strained through the fabric of his underwear. 

“Really?” he breathed, as if you meant it as a joke. 

“Yes really.” you said, sighing and tucking your hair behind your ears. “I’m not your girlfriend for nothing.”

You made to smirk at him, but were caught off guard by his lips sealing around your own and kissing you passionately. You kissed him back heatedly in the small space of the cupboard, until the air grew hot and thick around you, and he was grinding his throbbing length hard into your thigh. 

You pulled away, dropping to your knees and dragging his pants down with you. You jerked his underwear down enough to let his swollen cock spring free, and settled forward on your knees. You flicked your tongue across his tip lightly, making him tangle his hand in your hair. Smirking, you closed your lips around his hardened length, gripped his balls in one hand, and slid as much of him into your mouth as you could. 

“Ah!” Roger cried out, hand clenching in your hair. “Fuck, baby—“

Encouraged by the way you could feel his hips starting to tremble, you began to bob your head up and down his length, teasing the tip with your tongue when you pulled out and hollowing your cheeks when you took him back in.  

“More, baby—” Roger groaned above you, and you glanced up to see his blissed out expression. “God, you feel so good—“ 

You smiled, and continued on, bobbing your head with increased vigor, until you heard Roger’s breathing go ragged and felt his hips buck against your mouth. You looked up  from your handiwork to see his face scrunched in pleasure, and his other hand gripping one of the cupboard shelves so hard his knuckles were white, trying to keep himself upright.

“Fuck, Y/N—“ The hand in your hair was pushing your face into his crotch harder. “I’m gonna—“

Knowing he was close, you pulled nearly all the way off him, gripped his balls with your hands, and slid your mouth clear up his shaft until his balls rested against your chin. You closed your lips tightly around his length, and Roger came with a cry, hips bucking as  he spilled himself down your throat. You let him twitch for a moment longer in your mouth before pulling off him and wiping your lips. You tucked Roger back into his pants gently, then stood up, rested your hands on his shoulders, and took in the sight of his sweat drenched face.

“Well, now that I’ve upheld my end of the bargain,” you said, smiling slightly at him and brushing a sweaty strand of hair out of his face. “Now it’s your turn.” 

“Ugh, do I have to?” Roger whined, giving you a disappointed look. “I was just starting to like it in here—“ He leaned forward to kiss you, an act that you only allowed for a moment before pulling away and pressing a finger to his lips. 

“No excuses, mister.” you told him firmly. “I’m gonna go find the rest of the guys and once I bring them back here, you’re gonna all have a reasonable discussion about this whole b-side matter. Understand?” 

“Yes.” Roger sighed, though he pouted. 

“Good.” you said, and gave his cheek a quick peck with your lips before opening the door to the cupboard and stepping out into the still messy kitchen. 

You had only just shut the door of the cupboard when into the kitchen walked Brian, Freddie, and Deaky.

“Nice timing, gentlemen,” you said, smiling. “Roger’s just told me it’s getting rather stuffy in the cupboard there and he’d quite  like to come out now...” Here you paused your dramatic emphasis. “So he’s willing to have a civil discussion about whatever you’ve come up with.”

You started to ask Roger for confirmation of your words, but was cut off by Brian crossing the kitchen in three quick steps and throwing his arms around you. 

“Brian—“ you gasped, patting the middle of his back gently, which was as high up on him as you could reach. “Can’t breathe—“ 

“You best let my girlfriend breathe, mate.” came Roger’s voice from next to you, and Brian released you, both of you turning to look at Roger as he exited the cupboard sheepishly. 

“Rog, I’m sorry—“ Brian began, but Roger waved his hand at him lazily. 

“Nah, fuck it, you were right.” he said, squinting as his eyes adjusted to the light of the kitchen. “I’m sorry for my comment about your guitar. And the whole cupboard thing, I...I overreacted.” 

“Overreacted, my arse.” muttered Deaky, from across the kitchen. 

“I’m sorry about your shirt, Deaky, I’ll get you a new one, I promise.” Roger said, sighing. “I’m sorry for everything.” 

The rest of the band muttered their forgiveness, and after a moment of silence, Roger spoke again.

“So...now that that’s done,”  said Roger. “I promised Y/N I’d listen to you all.” He looked to Brian. “What are your terms for the b-side, then?” 

“Well, though it pains me greatly and the rest of the band as a whole,”  said Brian, smirking slightly. “We have taken into account the work you put in on your car song—” 

“I’m In Love With My Car.” interrupted Roger, giving him a pointed look.  

“Right, I’m In Love With My Car,” Brian began again. “After much deliberation, we appreciate the work you’ve put into the song, and...since the record company said they want a song the kids can get into, we think it’s worthy enough to be the b-side to Bohemian Rhapsody.” he smiled. 

Your mouth dropped open in surprise, and you laughed as Roger blinked, overcome with happiness. 

“Is this a joke?” he finally managed to squeak out, voice barely a whisper.

“No joke, darling,” Freddie said, smirking. “And besides, how are we going to finish this album with our drummer locked in a food cupboard?” 

You laughed along with the rest of the band, and while the other guys busied themselves with cleaning up the spilled tea and broken china from earlier, Roger pulled you into a hug and pressed a kiss to your hair. 

“Thank you.” he whispered. “For everything.” 

“No problem.” you said, giving him a gentle squeeze around the waist in response. “Now go help the guys clean up before they overreact and lock themselves away somewhere.”

[hypocritehero]

This is my Spooky Santa gift for @heartfulmind! I got a little ahead of myself with this project and wasn’t able to completely finish the fic in time for the deadline;;; But I have scattered scenes written out for later in the timeline!!! I just have to actually string them together into another chapter… @_@;;

(Thanks again @icypyre for putting this event together!)

Title: Transceiver

Ship: Shinsou/Female Background Character

Word Count: 3,351

Chapters: 1/?

The air in the classroom feels heavy. One wouldn’t think these twenty students had just made it into the most prestigious school in the nation with the amount of gloomy faces filling the seats, but the fact of the matter is that a good portion of them had applied for another course entirely.

Is that really all General Education was created for? To hold the overflow of rejected Hero hopefuls?

Tsunagi hopes not. She’s one of the few who didn’t even bother with the Hero Entrance Exam. With a Quirk like hers, she knew she didn’t stand a chance against whatever crazy test UA was sure to cook up- but she didn’t apply for Support or Business either. There’s more ways to help people, to help heroes, than just giving them things to punch harder or promoting their brand.

Like now. The amount of disappointment in the room is enough to suffocate the few sparks of excitement and hope flickering in the dark atmosphere. That just won’t do. There’s no teacher yet, so Tsunagi feels free to go all out.

“HEY!” She slams the oversized door shut behind her and lets out a boisterous greeting. “Why’s it look like a funeral in here?! Did someone die? Am I dead?” She waves her hands in front of her face to check for transparency, then points at the closest occupied desk. “Do I look dead to you?”

The boy looks absolutely baffled by her sudden question. His voice comes out uncertain and high, “Uh- No?”

“There you have it!” Tsunagi places her hands on her hips and surveys the classroom like a Queen looking upon her kingdom. “I’m alive, and I’m pretty sure so are all of you. This isn’t the end of the line, not by far. It’s only the first stop!”

Her sheer volume is starting to gather attention. She waits patiently for the mood to turn over slowly like a wave, muddy thoughts becoming alert in confusion and apprehension. There’s some annoyed looks as well for disturbing the peace, but some sacrifices must be made.

“If you’d given up already, you wouldn’t even be sitting here, right? There’s nothing more stupid than turning around to go home when you’ve already left the house, so you might as well give it your all!” She punctuates her impromptu peptalk with two thumbs up- the ultimate finisher move!

But the disappointment lingers. Tough crowd…

“Couldn’t’ve put it better myself,” a deep, muffled voice remarks from behind. She jolts and spins around with a short yelp. The man standing at the door is tall and intimidating in his deep red cloak and gas mask, but the class breaks out into awed murmurs at the sight of him.

“It’s Snipe!”

“I heard all the teachers here were Pro Heroes but-”

“-our Homeroom teacher is Snipe?!”

“Awesome!”

Just like that, the tide shifts all at once, dismay and irritation erupting into excitement. That more than anything is what impresses Tsunagi the most. So this is the aura of a Pro… She can’t sense anything from him but calm determination- oh, and is that an inkling of amusement?

“That’s right, I’m Snipe. I’ll be your Homeroom teacher from now on.” Snipe takes his place at the front of the class, spurs jingling with every heavy footstep. “General Education might not sound like much, but that doesn’t mean you can slack off. Everyone at this school follows the same motto. I’m sure you all know what that is?”

Tsunagi recognizes a hype call for what it is. She punches her fist into the air, “Plus Ultra! Go beyond!” A few other students even chime in at the end as well, much to her delight.

Snipe tips his cowboy hat towards her, “That’s right, miss. You ought to take your seat now, by the way. Class is in session.”

Oops. What was her assigned seating again? The number totally flew her mind! Everyone else is already sitting though, so it must be the last empty desk there. She jogs over and swiftly slides into her seat, casting a glance to either side of her to check out her neighbors. Two boys; one with an extremely strong jawline, the other with eyebags that could probably hold all his school books.

Jawline’s nerves pop when she makes eye contact and waves, and he jerkily turns to face the front of the class. Cute. Eyebags doesn’t even acknowledge her at all. He’s one of the stubborn few still mired in his own murky emotions. She could tell that from a mile away even without her Quirk. What a sour face!

Snipe is just going over the entrance ceremony lineup and orientation handouts, nothing too important, so she focuses all her attention on Eyebags. Her Quirk is technically a one way street- she can only sense other people’s emotions, not make them feel hers- but she’s sending out pay attention to me vibes as hard as she can think them.

Impressively, he doesn’t even glance at her once, even when they all get up to form a line for the opening ceremony. This one is going to be a tough nut to crack…

✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧

“You kind of remind me of a nutcracker!” Tsunagi places her lunch tray down on the table with a decisive clack. This is a good table; there’s a nice view out the window and everything. She decides to claim it as hers- for now, until she finds a better spot.

“…Excuse me?” Jawline, who was already occupying said table, responds to her comment belatedly. His aura is a little confused, a mixture between shock and affront, like he’s not quite sure how to take her words. That’s normal.

“You know, because of all this.” She gestures to her own decidedly smaller and narrow jaw in explanation. “Is that your Quirk? Do you, like, have a super bite strength? Like an alligator?”

“No…” Jawline answers slowly. “I can make ‘all this’ turn to metal though, so maybe I could crack a nut. Never tried before.”

“Ooh, even better.” Tsunagi snaps her disposable chopsticks and they split down the seams perfectly even. Nice. That’s a good omen, right? “You probably tried out for Hero Course with a Quirk like that, huh? I heard there was robots though. That must have been super tough.”

“Yeah… It was…” Jawline looks down at his tray, his wide mouth downturned into a frown. Woops. Must have still been a sore spot. It is only the second day, after all.

“I’m Kantoshi Tsunagi, by the way!” Tsunagi sticks out her hand across the table like a Western businessman. “I’ve got an empathy quirk, just in case you were wondering.”

“Ah… I’m Agito Koutsuchi.” Agito stares at her hand before taking it hesitantly. They shake and she makes sure to grip firmly to give off a good impression. First impressions are important- at least, that’s what her dad always said. “I’m guessing you didn’t take the practical then?”

“Oh, no way!” She forms an X with her arms and shakes her head. “I don’t even want to be a Hero. At least not like that.”

“Not like that?” 

“Yeah. I want to be a therapist for Heroes! So I figured I should go to a Hero school, right? Get lots of practice ahead of time.” She taps a finger to her temple with a self-satisfied smile. Yeah, she’s pretty much a genius.

“Right.” Agito looks more amused than bemused now, which is always a good thing in her books. His aura is looking a lot warmer. “Are you studying psychology then? I didn’t know we had any classes for that kind of thing.”

“Oh, we don’t.” She shrugs nonchalantly. “I’m just, like, kind of winging it?”

“…You’re ‘just kind of winging it’…”

Tsunagi is getting some major ‘judgey’ vibes off this guy. She pouts. “Hey, not everyone has their entire life mapped out as a first year! Sheesh. You’d grind your teeth a lot less if you learned to relax a little. Did you know I can hear you doing it from where I sit?”

“Hey-!”

✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧

“Why are you staring at me?” It takes three days for Shinsou (she learned Eyebags’ name by sneaking a peak at his handout) to finally crack. During the layover between Math and English he stares back at Tsunagi with dead eyes, no less intense despite the listless boredom permeating his aura. She can’t really sense anything else off him.

Maybe he really is just looking for something to do? She holds his gaze for a long, extended moment of silence. He blinks.

“Aha!” She slaps one hand against the desktop and points at him with the other. “You blinked first!”

“I didn’t think it was a contest,” he says dryly. “Does it really count if I wasn’t looking back until now?”

“It totally does, don’t be a sore loser,” she replies with a dismissive wave of her hand. A small jolt of surprise goes through him. Interesting. She leans in closer. “So you noticed? And you didn’t even think to say ‘Hi’ to your Class Prez?”

The title is new, but she’s taking every opportunity possible to flaunt it. Honestly, no one else was really vying for the position… Still, a win is a win!

“…You’re still talking to me,” Shinsou says instead of answering the question. It kind of sounds like he’s talking more to himself than her. “Why?”

Tsunagi raises an eyebrow. “Should I not be?” 

Shinsou rubs at the back of his neck and glances away, his aura fluctuating agitatedly despite the strained smirk on his face. “Heh. If you have to ask that, that probably explains it.”

Okay, the mysterious cool guy bit is already getting on her nerves a little bit. She squints at him with an extended, suspicious hmmmm.

“Do you have like, a contagious disease or something?” He stares at her flatly and she taps her nose before trying again. “Is it your Quirk?” The second guess earns her another emotional jolt, even as his expression persists. Bingo. “It can’t be that bad. What is it?”

Ectoplasm glides into the room just then. Shinsou swiftly turns to face the front again, lips pressed into a thin line.

Wait. Is he really not going to answer?!

✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧

Tsunagi ends up making a game of it. It’s a good way to kill time between classes- and an excuse to talk to/at her aloof neighbor. Sometimes she even ropes Agito into it for some fresh ideas. He seemed reluctant at first, but as Shinsou seemed to bear their increasingly wild guesses with surprising patience, he’s been really getting into the spirit of the game.

“Do you curse people to die in seven days if you speak more than two sentences at a time?” Agito suggests from across Tsunagi’s desk, leaning on his forearm to see around her.

“Ooh, good one!” Tsunagi snaps her fingers. “But what about when he read that passage out loud for English? It’s been a week since then, and nobody’s died yet.”

“They wouldn’t allow me on campus if I had a Quirk as dangerous as that…” Shinsou mutters without looking up from his notes.

“True… What if it’s a love curse though?” Tsunagi waggles her eyebrows with a lecherous grin. “I could believe that. Are you all cool and jaded from breaking so many hearts because of your Quirk?”

“…Cool?” Shinsou focuses on that out of all the other things that came out of her mouth. He seems surprised. “Me?”

“Uh, yeah? You’re like, Mr. Tall-Dark-and-Broody over here. Back me up, Agito!”

“You are kind of broody,” Agito admits in an apologetic tone.

“Huh…”

✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧

UA ends up on the news. Despite having the best security out of every high school in the country, there was a bonafide Villain attack at USJ. Even without having been there, the fact that it happened at all is enough to fill the campus with waves of unease. Trickles of frightened conversation drift by Tsunagi’s desk the next morning as the classroom fills up.

“Damn, and I thought that false alarm at lunch was scary…”

“-was technically off campus, right? They couldn’t get in here… right?”

“They should beef up security or something! That just ain’t right-”

Tsunagi drums her pencil against the desk. Tk-tk-tk. As Class President, there should be something she can do to put everyone at ease, but the situation feels so much bigger than she can handle. It doesn’t help that her own stomach is turning and flipping just remembering those mugshots.

If you see these men, contact your local Heroes as soon as possible… Yeah, no, she’d rather never see another Villain in person in her lifetime, thanks.

“…We should do the buddy system.” She’s just thinking out loud, but her VP glances over at her with interest.

“Buddy system? Isn’t that a little kiddish?” Agito inquires. He doesn’t sound entirely dismissive about it though. Tsunagi points her eraserhead at him.

“They teach it to us as kids because it’s important! If something happens to one of you, there’s still someone else to go get help. It just makes sense.”

“When you put it like that, I guess you’re right…”

Tsunagi nods with satisfaction. “That settles it then. I’ll make an announcement during homeroom. Everyone needs to find a buddy to walk home with from now on. That includes you, too, Mr. Lone Wolf!”

“Pass.”

“You don’t get to pass! This is a Presidential decree!”

“You’re only Class President,” Shinsou points out coolly. “Off campus, you can’t really control what anyone does.”

Well, of course she can’t, but he didn’t have to be so obstinate about it. She puts on her most serious face. “This isn’t a drill, you know. A real Villain attack happened, not a practice exercise. Even Pro Heroes can’t be everywhere at once. If you ever wanted to be a Hero, you should recognize that we all have to do our part to keep each other safe.”

Shinsou goes quiet after that. Tsunagi leaves him to his thoughts and works on hashing out a quick speech with Agito before homeroom starts. She can only lead a horse to water, not make him drink it. Whatever decision he comes to, he’ll have to get there on his own.

✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧

The UA Sports Festival is absolutely legendary. It’s hard to believe this is only the turnout for the first years- the stadium is enormous and yet every seat is filled. Tsunagi’s only ever watched it on TV. She never expected to be on the other side of the screen.

Present Mic’s voice was loud enough to rattle her teeth even inside the entry tunnel, but when the Gen Ed students start filing out his enthusiasm dies down considerably. It’s still boisterous, sure, but there’s no pizzaz in the way he lists off rotely, “And following Class B, here come Classes C, D, and E from the department of General Education!”

“Man, they’re treating us like we’re just their foils or something,” Agito complains, not bothering to quiet his displeasure whatsoever. Tsunagi is inclined to agree.

“What a load of…” She swears under her breath. Just because their class wasn’t attacked by Villains doesn’t mean they’re not trying their hardest like everyone else in the Hero Course. She’s seen her peers practicing together in their free time, working out the kinks in their Quirks in the gym, discussing Hero names over lunch-

It just doesn’t feel right to let their efforts get lowkey dismissed like this!

Tsunagi turns to walk backwards, facing the rest of Class C head-on. She claps her hands over her head. “Alright, alright! Everyone, do your best out there! Fight on!” When she turns back around, she catches Shinsou’s eye and winks at him carelessly. “That’s also a Presidential Decree.”

✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧

So, Tsunagi didn’t place in the obstacle race, but come on! An empathy Quirk doesn’t really come in handy against ice and robots and tightrope walking. Honestly, it would have taken a miracle to even make it to the finish line.

And yet Shinsou did- within the cutoff even. She’s not quite sure how he did it. It kind of looked like he got some randos to help him?

…That kind of smarts. If he had a team plan to pass, why not get his own class to help?

✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧

“Midoriya! The match just started… and he’s completely frozen?! He’s got a blank look on his face and isn’t moving a muscle!”

Midoriya isn’t only one. The entirety of Class C is stock still in their seats, eyes wide and mouths gaping in shock.

“…Is that…?” Agito turns towards Tsunagi slowly. She looks back at him with a blooming grin, “His Quirk!“ 

✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧

Tsunagi really isn’t sure what’s happening. One minute Shinsou’s opponent was walking out of bounds, a sure win- then there was suddenly an explosion? And now Shinsou is grappling with a member of the Hero Course. It’s all happening so quickly, she’s on the edge of her seat, heart leaping up into her throat as her classmate is suddenly bodily heaved into the air.

"No!” She can’t help but cry out, even though it’s already too late. He hits the ground before she can even take her next breath and she flinches. “No…” It doesn’t feel fair. He came so far!

“Damn, he got got.” Agito sighs from beside her, slumping back into his seat heavily. It’s right then that she realizes her tunnel vision, her awareness of her surroundings slowly returning to her. It’s strange… She’s grown so used to other people’s ambient emotions vying for her attention constantly, it’s not often that she finds herself so completely caught up in a moment that all she can do herself is feel.

Despite Shinsou’s loss, their entire seating section is lit up with pinpricks of bright, sparkling emotions, a bittersweet ocean of disappointment mingled with awe, of so close yet so far! It’s like being surrounded by a sky of stars, shimmering on the edges of her vision, but she still can’t tear her eyes away from Shinsou.

Shinsou, who refused to tell anyone his Quirk. Shinsou, who was surprised that anyone would even talk to him at all. Shinsou, who fought tooth and nail to make it to the final tournament. His wile and determination is absolutely insane, but his heart is so fragile. He’s just a speck of doom and gloom down on the field and she can’t help but remember the first day they met, how deeply his dejection rooted itself in his soul.

Well, that just won’t do.

Tsunagi rushes out of her seat to lean up against the railing. A stampede of footsteps follow in her wake.

“You were so cool, Shinsou!!” She waves her arm to catch his attention, smile broadening when their eyes meet across the distance. He looks surprised to see them all lined up above the exit gate for some reason. She doesn’t let that deter her and gives him her super special double thumbs up. “Nice job!”

Almost as if her words were the opening to a dam, more praise comes rushing in from their gathered classmates. Everyone is calling out as loud as they can so that Shinsou can hear them over the clamoring audience.

“We were on the edges of our seats, dude! For real!”

“You’re like the star of hope for all us Gen Ed kids!”

“You gave the kid who placed in the top 3 from the obstacle race a real run for his money!”

Tsunagi can’t quite pin down the aura Shinsou is giving off right now. Something bright and delicate… a wavering light that shimmers over the vulnerable look on his face like he’s underwater. For such an aloof boy, he looks overwhelmed now, but in a good way.

“Can you hear them, Shinsou-kun?” Her heart feels heavy and full in her chest. She’s just so damn proud of him. She wants him to be proud of himself, too. “You’re amazing!”

She’ll grind that into his fluffy head until it finally sticks, as many times as it takes.

[remonamcinnes70-blog]

Different Types Of Music Genres

We highlight the artists and musical movements that defined the year. Classical music is generally a classification masking music composed and performed by professionally trained artists. Classical music is a written tradition. It is composed and written utilizing music notation, and as a rule is performed faithfully to the score. In frequent utilization, "classical music" usually refers to orchestral music typically, no matter when it was composed or for what objective (movie scores and orchestral preparations on pop music recordings, for instance). Truthfully, when you ask me, hazard music is something you DEFINITELY ought to by no means consider music. In case you suppose metallic is "all screaming" then it's best to take a hearken to hazard "music." What's musical about someone having a psychological breakdown and destroying a bunch of issues in their path? Nothing? Yeah.

Zabel, Gary. Adorno on Music: A Reconsideration." The Musical Occasions a hundred thirty:1754 (April 1989): 198-201. There are even some electronic-only music festivals in the summer for the extreme followers, offering three-to-5 day lineups of all the world's prime DJs and music artists producing techno and electronica. Americans could acknowledge Nina Kraviz or uncover new local favorites like Bobina, Arty, Eduard Artemyev, and Zedd. A vocal and instrumental type of music based mostly on a pentatonic scale and a characteristic twelve-bar chord development, blues developed from African American spirituals, shouts, work songs and chants that discovered its earliest stylistic roots in West Africa. Blues has been a major influence on later American and Western fashionable music, finding expression in ragtime, jazz, massive band, rhythm & blues, rock & roll, country music, conventional pop songs and even fashionable classical music. Electronic music legend Isao Tomita's debut album "Snowflakes are Dancing" reaches the top 50 of the pop charts and receives 4 Grammy nominations. Tomita is called the Wendy Carlos of Japan, well-known for synthesizing classical works. Some easy insights can nonetheless be taken. Hip-Hop is method ahead of the opposite genres (d'oh). People comes in second however since there is only one folk artist (Bob Dylan) in the evaluation it isn't representative at all. Pop is the genre with essentially the most number of musicians and its average vocabulary size (2464 phrases) is close to the typical vocabulary measurement across all artists (2677 words). Identical thing applies to the Rock genre as nicely. Yet polystylism is so broad, it also consists of composers and works drawing on nonmusical parts. Examples include composer Andrew Norman, who is highly influenced by structure. His works embrace Farnsworth: Four Portraits of a Home " and Frank's House," alluding to architect Frank Gehry. vívoactive three Music is appropriate with our Join IQ retailer, where you can obtain watch faces, widgets and apps that remodel this smartwatch into your watch. Hold tabs on when your Uber is arriving, flip on your lights at home with the SmartThings app, and even use the AccuWeather MinuteCast app to seek out out when the rain will start.

Gaetano is among the finest musicians in Italy and will all the time be remembered for his rough voice and for the heavily ironic lyrics of his songs and his social protests. He was a preferred and influential determine, broadly re-evaluated by 2000s music. The '90s music scene was dominated by grunge and punk rockers. After all, you had your poppy woman and boy bands (Back Avenue Boys, Spice Girls, and so on.) but pumping out of your audio system most of the time was the onerous core, shredding sounds of a guitar. And Daniel Lanois I imply come on now you're simply trolling, this is a list for musicians and irrespective of how vital he was as a producer he was a decidedly average and completely unremarkable musician when in comparison with the competitors. However 1968 witnessed a wealth of traditional music additionally, as artists picked up the musical baton of 1967 and ran with it. Right here, with a selection of the year's best singles, is just a small sample of what was out there to the music lover 50 years ago. Soundtracks, or so-called "movie trailer music" or "epic music," should undoubtedly rank within the high tens. It has the power of the orchestra and a distinct melody all throughout the timeframe of a pair minutes. Think of all the movies you might have watched and a couple of great soundtracks. This pathfinder is intended to facilitate interdisciplinary analysis in conventional Southern music types for undergraduate or graduate college students of music, folklore, American Research, history, cultural studies, Southern studies and associated disciplines. Specifically, it identifies multimedia sources at UNC-Chapel Hill and online to assist college students higher perceive each the context (social, lyrical, and musical origins, influences, and impacts) and the content (kinds, themes, and instrumentation) of conventional Southern music styles.

With Bowie, the clues have been all there. But with Prince, you didn't really see it coming. Yes, there were rumors of drug use and an emergency aircraft touchdown , however his death on April 21 was a punch in the gut. The greatest songwriter , performer , and musician of his technology, Prince's music was as idiosyncratic and transgressive as pop music gets. Nobody wrote about fucking better than Prince, before or since. To label Prince classic rock" feels sinful: Prince made Prince music, and Darling Nikki" isn't exactly blowing up basic rock radio like Hotel California." Prince fused a number of genres—funk, soul, R&B, and, sure, rock—with out neatly falling into one category. However Prince additionally marked one thing of an evolutionary finish for rock music: After him, rock stars appeared backward greater than they did ahead, and they certainly appeared more to rock's personal previous than they did to other genres.

One of the best ways to get really good at genre identifying is to expand maritahorder59886.xtgem.com your listening experience. Choose a track, Google what genre it's from, take heed to it and make notes about what's distinctive. Repeat this step as much as you may, most preferably throughout different genres. Noise music is a vital component of several extreme punk subgenres. Modern Pop Music is actually pretty good in the event you dig deep into the genre and find genres like Art Pop, Baroque Pop and Experimental Pop. Also, there's Indie Artist with giant influences and http://www.audio-transcoder.com/ some Pop Rock that's additionally worth listening to. MARTIN: In the event you're simply becoming a member of us, we're speaking with musician and composer Jae Sinnett about the way forward for jazz. What does that say? How do you - how do you interpret what which means? Does it imply that it's a good news, bad information story? That people who understand and recognize music are still looking for it out, gertrudedelancey3.wikidot.com or is it that there's just got to be this ongoing struggle to keep up house for jazz amid all the business pressures? They've at all times been there.

[otiliak64066563-blog]

Main Facts To Know About Bingo Online Video Games

The speed of the T1 is also a thing to behold. The medium is divided into 24 channels that use Electronic Sign . Each channel has a capability of sixty four kbps. Multiplying each values gives rise to an astounding 1.fifty four Mbps. That bandwidth is yours alone which basically indicates that it does not falter. The web has slowly risen to power over the last a long time. These days, 1 cannot help but be online for an hour or two every working day. Some people can even remain linked for times. People connect to the web through numerous ways. A couple of of these ways is with the help of T1 line connections or by way of cable or dial up connections. As I sitting down, the individual inquired about for my name as well as shock me. He stated, "Ask the clairvoyant cards an problem and I will tell you the solution." I believed it's likely to be a great deal of nonsense. Nevertheless, he organized when of tarot playing cards before me and that i said, "Will We be shifting in the near future?Inch The tarot card credit playing cards said yes and i also would be shifting to some international country. Shockingly, I was about to transfer house to reside with my mothers and fathers. I did not believe that I probably could really pay for to depart the nation. I made a choice that I would leave the real clairvoyant studying on your personal in the back of my thoughts and focus onto it. LG is one of the top conglomerates in the manufacturing of electronics. It is a nicely known and reputed business from korean casino. Th cellular telephones manufactured by LG are highly fashionable and trendy. In this highly technological globe, each cellular telephone company is striving to achieve the very best and wants to be on the top. LG has been serving the customers by providing higher quality performance in stylish and advanced mobile telephones. It is continuously achieving success and growth with the extremely advanced functionalities and applications. The LG mobile phones have a contemporary and trendy design. It also has a wide range of mobile phone to select from. But Sun remained in the sport, getting a groundout to brief from Kyung-wan Park before providing up a two-out single to Ki-hyuk Park. This would flip the lineup more than for Korea and direct to a pitching alter from China, as manager Terry Collins brought in lefty Bu Tao. Park stole second, then moved to 3rd on a wild 2- pitch, prior to strolling Jong-wook Lee. One of the law enforcement responders was a canine unit. In the assertion the police gave, they said he, "began to torment" the law enforcement dog who was in the patrol car. He started barking at the canine and shouting at it. I'm not an expert on canine models, but performing some thing like that will cause them to become agressive. Guess what occurred? Yep, the dog grew to become quite excited and intense. One last factor that you need to appear for in an online casino is a bodily deal with. Frequently, this 1 is the most effortlessly disregarded by many gamers. Whilst you perform the casino online, it ought to have a genuine world workplace in existence. This way, you know that there are certainly real people manning the casino's procedure and not fictional ones. The physical workplace ought to also have a phone number, and you ought to confirm initial that the workplace is indeed genuine and not merely some rundown warehouse. Now, if you want to perform 루비게임 just lookup for the best online casino that are available these days Make certain that you have verify the reputation of these casino before releasing some money to it. Keep in mind, check the reputation if you skip doing it, you might finish up successful but can't money out the cash that you experienced won or to make it worst you might end up dropping and not winning at all, simply because there are numerous spasm, frauds, and fakes that can be discovered in the Web. People wager on video games for money on online casinos for many factors. They love the thrill, the shrill, and they adore the seduction of amassing cash. However, the current ban narrowed down the options where a participant can gamble, therefore making a demand. And any smart businessman knows that this is the ideal time to strike -when the demand is high and the provide is low. One must strike while the iron is scorching. So, are you in search of online casino? Pinnacle Sports Online Casino is a great 1 to be a part of if you want to play immediate online casino games. It is an award winning casino after all. After signing up here you would get an additional cash of 10%25. You would discover a common selection of video games of gambling offered in this online casino like blackjack, roulette and much more. Are you intrigued in taking part in? The online encounter and web betting might really be quite fulfilling. You are recommended to perform for fun by practicing new slot video games and poker games and so on. It will make you aware of the newest additions in to the gambling area. You ought to give a few tries to the new sport first by utilizing totally free spins and then you can straight go for the thrilling encounter of taking part in for the genuine money. Individuals must adopt this method to insure that they do not lose something in a error. Everybody is allowed to play 루비게임. It is great to maintain following some tips and tricks whilst taking part in but it is recommended to keep the time in thoughts as well.