#Race Vs Road

[whatevs1dc]

Just some nostalgic video games

[juniestar]

How on earth is harris v trump a tight race??? How do ppl look at donald trump having SEEN the way he acted in his presidential term, seen his LENGTHY criminal record, seen the fact that NOBODY else in his party aside from some loose hanging cultists wants to associate with him, seen the way he literally incited riots after losing an election which resulted in at least seven deaths, seen his total lack of coherent policy plan, and think yeah well but Kamala is a cop. Which isn’t even fucking true

[gamebunny-advance]

Vs. Karate Joe

Aka: "Vs. Tatiana (Rhythm Heaven Remix)"

I finally got around to finishing this redux (^o^). You can find the old one here, but it's pretty bad~

I changed this mix to be more in line with my other NSR mixes so that it only focuses on a handful of mini-games instead of trying to incorporate as many as possible (though there is still one section that references the past mixes, but it's pretty early on).

Some new prominent additions include:

Figure Fighter

Toss Boys

Super Samurai Slice

Flockstep

I also fixed up some of the audio mixing and timing, so things should flow a lot better now.

[code-of-conflict]

The Intersection of AI and Geopolitics: India-China Relations

Introduction: The Intersection of AI and Geopolitics

Artificial Intelligence (AI) is reshaping the global landscape, especially in the realm of geopolitics. By transforming the way nations project power and compete, AI is ushering in new strategies in international conflict. The integration of AI into military, economic, and governance sectors has opened up new fronts, with the ability to conduct cyber warfare, enhance surveillance, and revolutionize decision-making processes. In this evolving geopolitical theatre, AI stands as a critical component in determining global dominance, reshaping not only international power dynamics but also introducing ethical challenges.

In the context of India-China relations, AI plays a pivotal role. Both nations are racing to harness AI's transformative potential, yet their strategies are distinct. While China focuses on AI as a tool for global supremacy and internal control, India aims to leverage AI for inclusive growth, addressing societal challenges and fostering innovation. The friction between the two reflects broader geopolitical concerns, where technology, data, and governance models shape the future of conflict and cooperation between these Asian giants.

How AI is Changing the Rules of International Conflict

The integration of AI into warfare has expanded the concept of conflict beyond physical battles. Nations now contend in cyberspace, utilizing AI for espionage, cybersecurity, and information warfare. AI can process vast amounts of data to identify vulnerabilities, predict attacks, and even automate military responses. China's AI ambitions, as seen through its "New Generation of Artificial Intelligence Development Plan" (2017), highlight its strategic objectives to lead in AI technology by 2030, leveraging AI for military and industrial dominance​. This push underscores how AI is central to China's broader geopolitical goals.

India, on the other hand, focuses more on the societal applications of AI, aiming to solve problems in healthcare, agriculture, and education while also addressing security concerns. India’s AI strategy is grounded in fostering inclusive growth, underpinned by the #AIForAll vision, which emphasizes AI as a tool for economic and social development rather than solely a means of global dominance. Despite differing approaches, both nations recognize AI's transformative impact on national security and the need to protect data, control information, and outpace rivals in technological innovation.

Overview of the India-China Geopolitical Landscape

The geopolitical rivalry between India and China is shaped by historical tensions, territorial disputes, and their contrasting visions for global leadership. China’s assertiveness in the South China Sea, its Belt and Road Initiative, and the boundary disputes with India have heightened tensions in recent years. At the same time, both nations are key players in the global AI race, seeking to bolster their technological capabilities.

China’s AI strategy is a direct reflection of its ambitions to establish technological supremacy. The country has invested billions in AI research, development, and infrastructure, and aims to integrate AI into both civilian and military sectors. China’s AI-enabled surveillance state has raised concerns globally, particularly its mass surveillance programs targeting ethnic minorities like the Uighurs, demonstrating how AI can be employed for authoritarian control​.

India, while lagging behind China in terms of AI investments, is steadily advancing its AI capabilities. India's approach to AI is more aligned with democratic values, with a focus on responsible AI development that respects privacy and data security. This reflects India’s broader geopolitical stance, positioning itself as a global leader in ethical AI and as a counterbalance to China’s more authoritarian approach.

Conclusion

The intersection of AI and geopolitics is creating a new paradigm of international relations, where technological supremacy may determine future global leaders. India and China, as key players in this race, present starkly different approaches to AI governance, security, and ethics. While China seeks dominance through AI-driven surveillance and military applications, India’s focus on inclusive growth and responsible AI positions it as a democratic alternative in the global AI landscape. However, as AI continues to shape the rules of conflict and cooperation, the India-China dynamic will remain a critical focal point for understanding the future of global power.

[xboxissues]

New Xbox Games for May 13 to 17 2024

[skzdarlings]

bets and situations ; skz ; minho x reader

original ask: requested by anonymous: minho and “is that how you usually get out of these situations? by fucking your way out of them?” please

pairing: lee minho/reader content info: rivals to lovers. street racing. stubborn!reader. placing bets, betting sex (still explicit consent), fucking vs making love. outdoor sex. sex on a car. explicit sexual content. word count: 3400 words.

masterlist. part of the valentine’s day stories series. credit to prompts. requests are closed.

enjoy! <3

-

Sure, you are a little insufferable. 

But Lee Minho is worse. 

He carries himself with an elitist pomposity, like he is above the other drivers just because he once raced professionally.  Trophies or not, he is out here with the rest of you, illegally racing cars down desert roads, placing bets in the dead of night. 

You were content until this fucker came along.  Lee Minho and the stupid pretty face that won him fan clubs and brand deals.  Ugh.  You hate him for having that life and for giving it up when it is a fantasy for you.  The world of professional racing is notoriously hostile to women.  You admit there is a tinge of bitterness on your side of every interaction, but he goads you like an asshole.    

He arrives with his usual entourage.  A couple of them are racers, though not professionals, and a couple just spectate and mind his vehicle.  He has a nice car, almost as pretty as him.

You whistle as he approaches.  He looks at you with his usual exasperation, delicate features pinched with annoyance.  His hair was a vibrant red in his racing days, quite the act of showmanship, but it’s a natural dark brown now, framing his mean, stupid, handsome face.

“Hey, pretty boy,” you say.  “Finally gonna grow a pair and race me?”

His scowl turns to a bitchy little sneer.  He laughs sarcastically. 

“Not worth the mileage,” he says.  He shoulders past you, his leather jacket against your denim.  “Winning against a little girl does nothing for my massive ego.”  He says this with a sarcastic flourish, mocking your derision of him. 

You know the comment is a deliberately cheap shot.  Unfortunately, in reality, Minho is the least chauvinist racer you have ever met, treating the women here with the same basic dignity as the men.

It’s just you he hates, because you hate him too.   It was inevitable.  You were hostile when first meeting.  You challenged him to a few too many personal races.  You were a sore loser and even worse winner.  What started as an effort to prove something spiralled into a rivalry. 

You won the last couple races.  You gloated a little too hard and now he is refusing to race you again. 

“Sure,” you say.  “Sounds to me like you’re scared to lose for the third time in a row.” 

He just keeps walking, ignoring you, which is so much more infuriating than when he snaps back. 

You decide to keep your distance tonight.  If you continue to agitate yourself, you are going to develop a stress aneurysm.   So you keep to your own group, race your own races, and collect your own winnings. 

But, ugh.

He is right there. 

Just in the corner of your eye, just skirting the periphery of your space, just breathing the same night air.  When you are looking at him, he captivates you.  When you look away, he is like an impossible itch, begging for your attention again.  You constantly catch him looking at you too, which does not help matters. 

By the end of the night, you feel like a live wire, all electricity and unbound energy.  Not a single race has satisfied you.  You won three of four, making way more money than you lost, but it is not enough.  It is never enough.  You already know how good you are.  You know you can beat most of these guys blindfolded. 

Your only perfect match is Lee Minho.  The only victory that matters is that one. 

As the crowd disperses and everyone departs, you march towards him.  He is saying goodbye to his crewmates, his back to you, but his buddy cracks a grin when he sees you coming.  He smacks Minho on the shoulder before turning away. 

Minho turns around with a befuddled look on his face.  When he sees you, it slackens to that unamused vexation.  He pockets his hands in his leather jacket and slouches against his car.  He shakes his head as you stomp up to him. 

“One race,” you say. 

“No,” he replies, without missing a beat. 

“Why not?”

“Because I said so,” is his insufferable reply.

“That’s not an answer,” you say.

“That’s too bad.”  He gives you a final shrug then turns, opening his car door, preparing to leave. 

“Wait,” you say. 

You heart is racing.  Somehow, you feel like tonight is different from every other night.  Maybe it is the perfect crispness on the breeze, the remarkably clear sky, or maybe just the way those jeans seem to hug his thighs.  Stupid hottie.  You will have him and his attention.  You will get the better of him, one way or another.  It was all leading to this. 

“One race,” you say.  “A bet worth the mileage.” 

“I don’t need your money,” he says.

“I’m not offering money,” you reply. 

Finally, he closes the car door.  He sighs, a very loud and dramatic sigh, like you are the biggest inconvenience on earth. 

“What are you offering?” he says, facing you.  The disinterest in his tone is betrayed by the curious sweep of his gaze, an up-and-down perusal like he expects to find his prize somewhere on your body. 

Oh.

You feel flushed inside, realizing that it exactly what he is thinking.  Looking at you with a hungry, lecherous gaze, anticipating you are about to offer up yourself as a potential prize. 

It makes your heart stutter and your lips do the same, your next words all tangled up on your tongue.  It did not even occur to you to offer such a thing.  You hate him, so of course you would never think about him that way.  But now that he is looking at you like that, his expression coloured with interest and suggestion, you find yourself too shocked to even parse your feelings. 

The only thing that is obvious, abundantly obvious, is the punch of heat in your gut.  No, lower.  Heat that curls up inside you and makes you second guess.  Heat that is curious about the look in his eye. 

Then you shake your head.  You resist the urge to smack him for throwing you off.  You were in control and now you are flustered. 

“Not me,” you snap. 

His eyes, which have made their way down your whole body, follow the same path up.  He meets your gaze eventually.  Then he says nothing, because he is the worst, and just lifts an eyebrow at you. 

“My car,” you say, with no-nonsense finality.  “I bet my car.” 

He blinks at you.  Long, slow blinks like a cat.   It takes him a second to find a sentence. 

“Your car,” he says.  He tilts his head and squints, looking at you with scrutiny, like he is trying to see through your ploy.  “And what do you want if you win?” 

“Admit I’m the better driver once and for all,” you say.  The words feel a little foolish leaving your mouth.  You have been chasing the high of that confession, aggravated every time he dodged it, but saying it out loud makes you feel needy.  You clear your throat and stand straight like you are unbothered.  “That’s all I want,” you say.

He rubs a hand across his jaw, laughs incredulously, then swings his arms out at his sides. 

“Fine,” he says.

By now, everyone else has gone.  It is just you and him under the streetlights, the long empty road stretched across the dunes ahead.   You stare at one another, like there is no road and no sky, no world at all outside each other.  It is intense and all-consuming.   

You hold out a hand.  He takes it and yanks you closer to him.

“I would have told you that for free,” he says.  “Since it’s the truth.  You just had to ask.”

Now it is your turn to blink, looking at him with shock.  You would have been less stupefied if he called you a tirade of rude names, or tried to weave doubts in your mind.  Instead, he smiles at you, and it is not half as smarmy as usual.  He drops your hand and turns away, leaving you gawking at the air as he ducks into his car. 

He honks the horn, snapping you to attention. 

The heat rushes back in a hurry.  You swallow, then walk to your car on suddenly shaky legs. 

-

He wins.

Of course he wins.

You were distracted by his parting words.  You and him are so closely matched in skill that a fleeting weakness is all it takes for one to overtake the other.  You were faring well at the start, but his engine revved and your attention strayed.  Your prize was somewhat nullified by his confession, your behaviour embarrassing in hindsight.  You bet your car.  What were you thinking?

You weren’t.  And it was all his fault.   

Your car skids to a screaming halt just seconds after him.  You smack the steering wheel with frustration. 

Maybe I should have just bet my body, you think to yourself, a thought that has you shivering from something other than adrenaline.  Thoughts like that are not like you.  And Lee Minho is the last man on earth you could ever want.  Even though he is simultaneously the only man you want, or at least the only one with an opinion that matters, the only man whose attention you ever want.  He is always the highlight of your night. 

Oh god, you think with a nervous twist in your gut, I like that arrogant loser. 

Facing him is hard and it has nothing to do with losing your car. 

He is not gloating because he is not the type.  He is just leaning against his vehicle with his arms crossed, watching your nerves and passion get the better of you.  He does not flinch when you get right in his face, huffing from exertion.

“Do-over,” you say.

“Absolutely not,” he replies. 

“You got in my head on purpose.” 

“I can only do that if you let me in,” he says, looking smug.

“One more race,” you insist. 

“You have nothing left to bet.”

“Me,” you blurt.  “I bet myself.” 

You feel some satisfaction at the flicker of surprise that creases his brow, but then he is just staring and blinking again.  Your heart still thinks it is in a race, stampeding so far ahead that your whole body is awash with heat. 

“You,” he finally says.  His tongue darts out to wet his bottom lip, then he tilts his head in that studious way. “What does that mean?” 

You feel so hot it is making you a little woozy.  It’s just aftershocks from the race, you tell yourself, even though that heat comes from somewhere much more intimate. 

You cross your arms stubbornly.  You look away.  You even stomp your foot. 

“You know what I fucking mean,” you snap. 

“Is that how you usually get out of these situations?” he asks in a teasing tone.  “By fucking your way out of them?”

You refuse to answer.  You arms are still crossed, your face still turned.   

He touches your chin, a painfully delicate touch.  Whenever you do fuck someone, it is hard and fast, like everything else you enjoy.  Your greatest rival should be touching you with the roughest touch of all, but it is the very opposite.   It is a suggestion of a touch, little more than a caress as he turns your face to his.  You swallow until the intense focus of his sharp eyes. 

“I don’t fuck like that,” he says.  He bats his pretty eyelashes while smirking like a devil.  “I don’t have to make bets.  I make love to people because they want it.  Sorry.”  He rolls his eyes and turns away, wiggling his fingers in a sarcastic good-bye wave as he slides into his driver seat.  “You can keep your car.  I don’t want or need it.  Good night.” 

You put yourself between the door and car, stopping him from closing it.  He looks at you, eyes narrowed more intensely. 

“Now, now,” he says. 

“I’m a big girl,” you snap.  “I don’t need you protecting my honour.  I wouldn’t offer to let you fuck me if I didn’t mean it.” 

He stares at you, contemplative behind those dark eyes.  He has just returned your vehicle so you have no reason to make another bet, other than to prove the veracity of your previous offer: that you do want to fuck him, even if you don’t want to admit it.

“I told you that you can keep your car,” he says. 

You are amazed smoke is not blowing out of your ears, considering how hot your face feels. 

“I heard you,” you say. 

He gets out of the car slowly, holding your gaze the entire time.  You take a step back. 

Then he walks at you, which forces you to take another backwards step.  Step by step across the tarmac.  The breeze tousles a bit of his hair, but nothing stops his stride and his eyes never leave yours. 

You find it difficult to catch your breath.  Garnering this man’s undivided attention has been your only goal for months, and the reality of it is heady.  He is intoxicating. 

It seems the feeling is reciprocated, given how he looks at you, which just makes you stumble in your backwards trek.  He catches your wrist, tugging you upright, yanking you closer.  You collide with his chest, disoriented from so little. 

“So,” he says.  “If you win, we fuck.  And if I win, we make love.  Is that correct?” 

“Whatever, there’s no difference,” you say.  You are instinctively combative when flustered, redirecting the source of your embarrassment to confrontation. 

It seemingly works.  His attention diverts and he says, “Yes, there is.”

“No, there isn’t.” 

“Yes, there—”  He stops himself from retaliating with the same childish rejoinder.  He props his hands on his hips, shaking his head at himself as he stares up at the stars.   

Eventually he huffs, rakes his teeth over his bottom lip, then looks at you. 

“Fine,” he says.  “We’ll race.” 

Your heart is already revving like an engine.  You take another couple steps back to smirk at him triumphantly.  You walk right into your car, that smug face dropping in surprise.  It gives him the opportunity to crowd you against it, planting his hands on either side of your head.  You hold your breath. 

“You have to pass my test first,” he says. 

“Excuse me!”  Your own incredulity resounds.  You smack his chest but he does not move. 

“It’s just two questions,” he says.  “You’re a smart girl.  You’ll figure it out.” 

He is tormenting you.  You hate him.  You hope he never stops. 

“Fine,” you snap.  His smirk makes your whole belly swoop with anticipation. 

“Good,” he says, then stands back. 

You hold his stare, refusing to show any weakness.  At least you can catch your breath in the space between you. 

Then he says, “Get on your knees.” 

Your legs are already shaky – from nerves, from the dwindling adrenaline of your race.  There are a lot of reasons your knees buckle.  Plenty of explanations for why you do not hesitate, sinking to your knees right there on the road. 

Your gaze drops, flustered by his demand and your response.  You look at his shoes, all black, well-worn, scuffing the tarmac as he steps towards you. 

“Now tell me,” he says, then gathers a fistful of your hair and yanks your head back.  He meets your gaze as he says, “Is this fucking or making love?”

Then his fingers are in your mouth.  You let him in without any hesitation, like your whole body is instinctively attuned to his.  His grip is firm, his fingers relentless, undoubtedly fucking your mouth with the sloppy, mean thrust you would expect from an enemy.  Still, it feels good, unbelievably so, your mouth wet and hot and his fingers sliding over your tongue, the soft suction of your lips making his eyes blaze and his throat bob as he swallows. 

When he slides out, a trail of spit connects his fingers to your lips.  Your lips quiver with a shuddering breath. 

“Well?” he says. 

You swallow, but eventually manage a weak, “Fucking.” 

“Good,” he says, grinning that wicked grin.  “That’s one out of two.  How about this one?” 

He drops to his knees.  You are face-to-face now, kneeling on the road in the dead of night.  There are no witnesses to this scene except maybe the stars, the clear night revealing all your secrets. 

His face is as open, his expression suddenly so devastatingly soft and vulnerable.   Your breath stutters before he even moves.  He cups your cheeks with both hands and draws you to him.

Your eyes close when your lips touch.  He strokes his thumbs across your cheeks and licks into your mouth with decadent slowness, like he wants to savour every second of your taste.  Your mouths move together like they were made for each other, never racing too far ahead. A perfect give-and-take. 

When he stops, you feel dizzy and bereft, but only for a second.   He cups your jaw and tilts your face just so, then his fingers are parting your tender lips and the taste of him is on your tongue once more.  Your eyes close and you moan thoughtlessly, bobbing your head to the gentle rhythm he sets. 

“This,” he says in a feathery-light voice.

You shiver as he slowly withdraws his fingers.  He wipes his thumb across your lips to clean you.  You let him cup your chin and tilt your face, this time so he can look you in the eye. 

“Tell me what we’re doing,” he says.   

The suggestion makes you throb.  You are hot and aching when you admit, “Making love.”

“Good,” he says, then pecks your lips before rolling onto the balls of his feet and shooting upright.  “Now we can race.” 

-

It is a perfect draw. 

You are both distracted.  When you slam on the brakes in the same place at the same moment, it is with a singular purpose in mind. 

Doors slam.  You meet in the space between your vehicles. 

“I won,” you say, just to be argumentative. 

He is shrugging out of his jacket.  It his the ground.  He does not break his stride, already going for his belt.  Your knees nearly buckle again. 

“Fine,” he replies.  “Then get over here.  I’m fucking you on the hood of my car.” 

Fucking you is exactly what he does.  It is not making love.  He strips you methodically, your jacket and shirt and bra.  Your jeans get shoved down past your knees and he bends you over the hood, still warm from the purring engine.  You are hot and frantic, cheek pressed to the hood of your rival’s car while he works you open and shoves himself inside you. 

You make a sharp sound then a low moan, hands plastered to the hot hood.  He fucks you like he races you, without holding anything back because he knows you can take him. 

It feels as primal as a race, the animal instinct that conquers you in a rush of adrenaline.  It is your singular focus, the steady thud of him inside you.  You do not care about appearances, about seeming ridiculous, meeting every thrust and moan with your own.  He sounds good and feels better, your bodies in harmony, chasing each other to the finish line. 

He yanks you up, your back arching as he turns your head for a kiss.  It puts you over, clenching hard around him, setting him off.  He makes a soft sound then groans with pleasure.  He stays there for a minute, both of you breathing hard.

“I want you to keep your car,” he finally speaks, “because I need you to come back tomorrow and race me again.” 

You gasp when his hand moves between your legs, working you up again, slowly but surely.   

“Because next time I’ll win,” he says.  “You sounded so good getting fucked.  I want to see your face when you come on my cock again and again from making love.”

“Won’t happen,” you say, even while your on the cusp of doing just that. 

“Mm,” he says, then laughs that light, evil laugh as you come all over his hand.  He kisses the side of your head and says, “Wanna bet?” 

[bon2bonn]

Media Menace

22!F1 grid X female!driver!reader

Words count : 1.5k

* just Some of the fans favourite moments of Y/N being the media menace she is ✨.

It was as a normal interview with Seb standing in the media pin , being asked about the drivers and the line up so far , he listened carefully before he answered " well , I think we have a solid lineup so far, each have their own unique driving style and that makes it more interesting to see and to compete with on track , they surly matured from where they started and........" What the fans didn't expect was when the camera zoomed in on the back of the pin , where some of the drivers were seen carrying a wiggling Charles trying to escape their hold as they marched on , being led by Y/N , who was chanting " to the pit ! , to the pit! " hand raised with a water bottle in it , her media officer could be seen standing at the back facepalming as she watched her driver walking away unfazed by the cameras following them .

••

*Crack-heads leader 🪄.

They paused as they came across Fernando , who was being interviewed close by and asked her something while pointing at Charles, she answered back and he nods at her , raising his own water bottle in a cheer , letting them go on their way with Charles seemingly pleading to be let down but no one dared to help him as the rest of the grid and media officers watched in amusement as they disappeared out of frame , the camera zoomed out and turned back to Seb as he finished his answer , blissfully unaware of the chaos behind him .

•••••••••••••••••••

* The road to Silverstone fistfight! , choose your fighter ! MV#33 Vs LH#44 🥊💪🏻.

She sat between Max and Lewis, bored out of her mind and fed up with their pity low-key shit talk by both drivers along with her team's principal and the media exaggerating the rivalry between them three , ignoring the reporters trying to bait her with their twisted questions as yet again she got stuck in the crossfire.

One reporter asked "what's your input on the ongoing feud ? " she let out a sigh at the repeated question for the millionth time this weekend alone , answering with a shrug " I don't know mate , I just work here " . Another one asked " what do you think of this ongoing rivalry, and do you think it'll last and how today's results will effect tomorrow's race ? " She answered nonchalantly " I sure hope it wouldn't affect tomorrow's race for I'm starting between them " giving them both a pointed look as if warning them , both looked away trying to maintain a stoic face listening as she went on answering , ignoring her officer who kept waving their hands at her from the back to cut it out " and as for if it'll last I honestly think today's quali could've been a fist fight, you know , end it there and move on with their day but no one is ballsy enough to arrange it , so here we are " leaving the reporters with a hanging jaws and taken back looks along with the driver's media officers as she leaned back into her chair waiting patiently for the next question .

•••••••••••••••••••••

* "Bitch! , I'm out!" .

Being seated in another post-race conference with Seb and Lewis after scoring P2 after a breathtaking battle against Seb, both Seb and her were beyond exhausted from pushing eachother to the limit but they enjoyed how they kept eachother at the tip of their toes , same as the fans who were at the edge of their seats anticipating who'd cross the finish line first between these two , and the final lap was proof of it , but she made sure to secure herself the position by one tenth of a second ahead of Sebastian who made sure to congratulate her first , everyone was pleased with the race results, well, everyone but the reporters who kept slipping backhanded remarks starting from the post-race interview up untill the actual press conference where they kept asking whether she considered another career or if she ever consider an early retirement , she got bored as another one asked why she still held on to the F1 career instead on Turning to other fields os sports , she gave him a fed up look " I just wake up everyday and decide that I want to make my life harder , why choose something else easier while I can make myself miserable here with you lot asking me the same question in hopes I'd give a different answers?" That got them to shut down for a while before another one asked the same , again.

Before either Seb or Lewis could shut them for their way or choice of questions she took the mic with no hesitation addressing the reporter who asked her for the third time when she'll take the retirement decision " look , and listen carefully cause I'm going to say it once , and I won't be repeating myself . when I Y/N L/N finally decide to retire from F1 my statement would be " Bitch, I'm out " nothing more , and definitely nothing less , so untill I myself say I am retiring I won't entertain this question anymore, and I advise you along with everyone else to do the exact same thing . next question please ! " Leaning back with a leg crossed over her knee as she waited for the next question . And It'd be save to say no one dared to poke at her with such assumptions after that answer , and earning herself the Bear nickname.

•••••••••••••••••••••••

* Toto's karma .

She rolled her head back distractedly looking up at the sky as she had to sit again through one of the team's interviews with her and Lewis both stuck with Toto as he went on and on about the teams competing against Red Bull and their chances this season and his opinion on drivers etc ...., she looked at the side , waving at some of the fans who walked by and shouted for her attention, sending them hearts and making faces before she was brought back by the host asking them three " speaking of the Red Bulls and the on going rivalry , who can you say is your favourite driver " Toto answered before any of his driver's could do, in a dismissing tone " in Red Bull? , I can't say there's anyone one I can name " . she however smirked as she shared a side look with her teammate before she answered ignoring Toto's pointed look giving him a wide tight lipped syndical smile " Oh! , but I know one I could name , you might be very familiar with him after all " the host eagerly look at her waiting for her answer " my favourite Red Bull bull driver is Toto Christian Wolff " Lewis tried to hold back his laugh as she kept smiling smugly at the said man , who looked away at the mention of his name with his eyes clenched in a grimace , wondering what have he ever done in his past life to get her as a karma/driver . The host stuttered before changing the topic , asking the drivers about their upcoming summer breaks and holidays .

••••••••••••••••••••••

* lando's downfall (literally) .

She stood in the media pit doing an interview with one of her favourite reporters , answering swiftly as the reporter gave her questions she actually enjoyed for once , not the diet and ignorant questions as if she barely knew anything about the sport , let alone drive . Her interview was going well , too well if she could say , because not long after she was halfway through answering her question , a gremlin decided to poke her for the fun of it. Having finished his interview already he turned to her to fill the time before his next interview , and boy would he regret it .

She kept swating his hands away and smacking him in attempt to finish her interview in peace , but no , he didn't pay her any mind untill he was called away . She glared at his smug face as he successfully annoyed her for the day , then she looked at the reporter with a wide sweet smile as she said " he'll regret it , trust me " nodding along as the reporter laughed nervously at her not knowing how to react , but that turned into shock as the driver excused herself for a moment.

she went around the pit sneaking up behind the McLaren driver, giving a thumps up to the reporter who looked at the camera with wide eyes before back at her , only to witness as she swept her foot in a kick aimed at the back of lando's knees, causing him to gasp as his feet gave up on him and he fell face first on the ground mid interview . She dusted her hands in accomplishment as she made her way back to the interview , asking as she smiled innocently " so , where were we?"

[astrophileous]

A little fluffy piece of reader who normally takes her coffee black vs Spencer having a ton of sugar in his? The two of them getting their drinks mixed up and almost spitting it out at the pure amount/lack of sugar? 🤭

OMG I was actually planning to include a similar scene in one of my upcoming oneshots, but you know whattt!!! I'll write them again here anyway bcs it's such a cute concept 🥰

Warning(s): gn!reader but reader wears lipgloss, profanities, fixation over lips, bashful spencer bcs he's my babygirl <3

This blurb was written as a part of the "Zara's Birthday Bash and Road to 1K" celebration.

Zara's Birthday Bash and Road to 1K Masterlist / Criminal Minds Masterlist

"What the fuck?"

Spencer strode over just in time to see you spitting something out into the kitchenette sink. There was no concealing the disgust on your face as you eyed the cup in your grasp suspiciously.

"Hey." Spencer's voice tore through the air in a shaky ball of nerves. It sounded meek amidst the buzzing busyness of the BAU bullpen, yet still, you snapped your head up as soon as the single syllable left his mouth.

Your eyes instantly melted when they flickered towards his face.

"I think our drinks got switched," Spencer added, a little louder this time.

Your gaze played a tennis match between the identical cups in both your hand and Spencer's. The grimace you rewarded him in the next second was possibly the cutest thing Spencer had seen in the past few months.

"This is yours? That explains so much. Ever heard of diabetes, Dr. Reid?" you joked as the two of you returned each cup to its rightful owner. "What the hell is in that, anyway?"

"Um, coffee?"

"Right." You rolled your eyes. "I may know practically nothing compared to you, Doctor, but I know for a fact that was not coffee. Tell me, how many sugar canes had to be chopped down to satisfy your abominable preference of sweetness?"

"It's not that bad."

"Not that bad? Do you even know what real coffee tastes like?"

Before he could produce a reply, you suddenly thrust the cup of coffee in your hand right in front of Spencer's nose. The man staggered rearwards until his back met the wall with a thud.

"What are you doing?"

"Try it," you said sheepishly.

"What?"

"Try the goddamn coffee, Reid."

Spencer didn't actually need to try the goddamn coffee. After all, he knew your order like the back of his hand: iced americano with an extra shot of espresso, maybe one pump of syrup if you were feeling adventurous. He could already imagine how revolting the drink would taste.

But as you continued to peer at him behind your lashes, eyes twinkling with mischief and lips glossy from your favorite cherry lipgloss—the limited edition one that you had proudly boasted about in front of the entire team—Spencer could feel his IQ depleting in a rapid descension. He accepted the cup without a word and took a courageous sip.

"Well?" you questioned expectantly.

"Please don't force me to do anything like that, ever again."

Laughter exploded deep from within your chest when Spencer shoved the coffee back into your awaiting hand. He didn't have a lot of time to mull over the nauseating bitterness, however. Not when you proceeded to wrap your own lips around the lid—the same one he was just drinking from—and downed a generous sip.

Spencer averted his gaze away.

"Hey." JJ peeked into the pantry area, unaware of the rush of blood and inner turmoil that Spender was battling. The blonde waved the file in her hand before gesturing at the conference room. "We've got a case. Hotch wants everyone in five."

You skittered away after JJ's announcement, leaving Spencer dumbfounded and pathetically bothered by the image of your enticing lips. He followed after your footsteps, leading himself towards the conference room where the rest of his team was gathering. He drank a large sip from his own coffee to calm his racing heart, unaware of the reddish stain in the shape of your lips marking the area around the lid of his cup.

For the rest of that day, Spencer could taste traces of cherry on the tip of his tongue.

[contemplatingoutlander]

How to cover an abnormal presidential race

Could the media coverage adhere closer to reality? Hard questions must be asked.

Jennifer Rubin offers a much needed road map as to how journalists should be covering an election between a politician who upholds democratic values (Biden) vs. a politician who is determined to undermine the Constitution and create a dictatorship (Trump). I wish mainstream journalists would follow her advice. Below are some excerpts, but you can use the gift🎁link to read the entire article.

The United States has never had an election in which: a felon runs for president on a major party ticket; a presidential candidate lays out a detailed plan for authoritarian rule; an entire party gaslights the public (e.g., claiming the president was behind their candidate’s state prosecution; pretending they won the last election); and, prominent leaders of one party signal they will not accept an adverse outcome in the next election. Yet, the coverage of the 2024 campaign is remarkably anodyne, if not oblivious, to the unprecedented nature of this election and its implications. [...] How could the coverage stick more closely to reality? Obsession with early polling that inevitably becomes meaningless after big events such as Trump’s conviction (stuff happens!) and that cannot yet gauge who is likely to vote should go by the wayside — or at least come with caveats and not drive coverage. What would be informative: A minute or two of unedited video showing Trump’s rambling, incoherent and deranged rants. Rather than merely “fact check” the nonsense blizzard, reports can explore the unprecedented nature of his rhetoric, illustrate the deterioration in his thinking and speech, and discuss how an obviously irrational and unhinged leader casts a spell over his devoted following. The media also can refuse to entertain laughable MAGA spin, such as claiming that Trump’s conviction will help him win the election.... When such incidents pop up, informative journalism would examine what else MAGA forces lie about (e.g., crowd size) and how authoritarians depend on creating a false aura of invincibility. When supposedly normal Republican officials parrot Trump’s obvious falsehoods and baseless accusations, interviewers must come prepared to debunk them. Republicans cannot be allowed to slide past hard questions about their election denial, false data points, baseless attacks on the courts and hypocrisy (the law and order party?). Treating Republicans as innocent bystanders in the democracy train wreck distorts reality. And instead of endless harping on President Biden’s age, some honest comparison between the disjointed, frightful interview responses from Trump and the detailed, policy-laden answers from Biden in Time magazine’s two interviews might illuminate the obvious disparity in acuity....There is simply no comparison between Biden, who talks in detail about policy, and Trump, who cannot get through a Newsmax(!) interview without sounding nuts. Likewise, treating Hunter Biden’s case (having nothing to do with the president) as though it were as significant as Trump’s criminal conviction betrays a lack of perspective and a hunger for clicks. Insisting this poses a problem or embarrassment for Biden amounts to amplifying MAGA spin. Finally, given voters’ misunderstanding of the economy, news outlets should focus on the results of Biden’s policies and the likely effect of his opponent’s shockingly inflationary plan. Focusing on the gap between public opinion and economic reality (to which coverage contributes) unwittingly reveals the media’s own shortcomings in educating voters. [emphasis added]

[glbettwrites]

📌 WRITEBLR INTRO:

Hi, I'm Ginny!

↪ she/her, sapphic (bi), from England, living in Scotland

↪ has a pet dinosaur (conure)

↪ LGBTQ+ friendly. No bigots

↪ 18+ blog! Please, no minors

↪ lover of all things fantasy, romance, historical, slice-of-life, drama, decopunk, cyberpunk, post-apocalypse & more. Constantly on the lookout for new stories to sink my teeth into (including yours?)

↪ looking for writer pals working in similar genres

↪ I deal with super dark themes; please guys, let me know if I forget to tag something that's triggering!

↪ About My Pen Name: My chosen nom de plume is G.L. Bett, for when I eventually (probably self-)publish. Lesley was the name of my mum who passed when I was ten; Betty was the name of my nana who passed when I was 13. Both were the maternal figures of my life, and I love the idea of having them there with me, because without them I wouldn't have kept writing!

↓↓↓ WIP INFO ↓↓↓

RETROSEER

full wip intro ↪ 🛹

↪ genre(s): sapphic romance; soft apocalypse; supernatural adult fantasy

↪ pov: third person, past tense, single pov

↪ status: outlining

↪ type: standalone novel in an interconnected series

↪ themes and triggers: 90's road trip vibes, forbidden love, mutual pining, messy relationships, found family, on the run, mistrust, addiction, heavy violence, 'open door' romance, (TBA)

↪ hook: a sapphic supernatural goes on the run when she unearths the secrets of the leader of a ruthless faction

THE TAWLANAARI TRAIL

full wip intro ↪ 🦖

↪ genre(s): adult prehistoric fantasy; adventure; romance

↪ pov: third person, past tense

↪ status: outlining

↪ type: standalone novel

↪ themes and triggers: enemies to lovers/forbidden love, grey morality, complex antagonists, the cycle of revenge, survival (man vs nature, man vs man), pregnancy, young motherhood, found family, self-discovery, redemption, women in a patriarchal society, power, loss and grief, abuse, torture, human sacrifice, and graphic depictions of violence and suffering

↪ hook: a woman's journey to vindicate her sons turns into a race to reclaim them from the spirit world

[insipid-drivel]

What's the general range of endurance for a horse doing the job(s) it's good at? Like, how long can a racing breed sprint/gallop before you start risking injury? Can a Clydesdale pull a plow all day, or do you need to get as much done as you can in the morning? Etc.

It really depends on how intense the work is on the horse's body, as well as the size, age, and breed of the horse itself, and the rider's observations on when the horse is visibly showing signs of exhaustion. A lot of these calls are dependent upon the owner of the horse to make, because it is very possible to command a horse to work itself to death without even intending to. (I know, this isn't a very helpful answer, but it's very hard to answer questions like these with exact details since we're talking about animals and not machines)

Race horses are usually lightweight breeds like Thoroughbreds or Arabian Horses, and were never bred for doing Hard Farm Labor like pulling a plow or working like makeshift tractors on a farm, will often run until their hearts give out if their rider lets them or makes them, especially if the horse has been literally pent up with no opportunities to run around for themselves in a while, or is extremely stressed.

Race horses especially can get so enthusiastic about racing that they develop mental health issues if they don't get to run and gallop frequently. Healthy running horses, like messenger horses, could handle keeping an even pace on a well-maintained road for hundreds of miles, so long as the rider gave the horse opportunities to slow down, cool off, rehydrate (hydration is a big factor, because horses sweat the way people do, and can die of heatstroke or heat exhaustion like we can), and get at least a few hours of rest before continuing to travel. If the terrain is rougher than a well-maintained horse path, then a horse could struggle and tire much sooner, and may even need the rider to get off their backs and walk with them until they hit easier terrain to avoid injury/overtiring the animal.

A Clydesdale or Shire Horse, which are in the family known as Draft Horses, are better at very strength-demanding, slow work (think cardio vs. weight training in humans; professional weight lifters have very different physiques, skill sets, and exercise/diet needs compared to a competitive sprinter), like pulling a plow, and it was often left up to the handler of the horse to judge when their horses are starting to get too tired and need a break. Horses pant, sweat, and generally show a lot of the same symptoms humans do when they're overheated and risking heat exhaustion or stress-based exhaustion. Horses that are given more rest-times tend to stay working longer in their lives than horses that are consistently overworked; again, like professional athletes. Professional athletes retire very young because of the intensity of their athletic life aging their bodies prematurely and making them more vulnerable to injury. The same applies to horses.

For pasture that's already been tilled and cleared of obstacles like buried rocks in the past, a working horse could probably do most of the morning/afternoon pulling a plow through "easy" soil and terrain as long as it's not too hot out (heat is a major cause of stress-related death in work horses), receive break-times to drink water and cool down, regular hoof checks (a sharp object penetrating a horse's foot can very easily result in a horse's death, so a major part of horse care is keeping their hooves clean). However, most farms that could afford draft horses instead of oxen would often own multiple to switch out when one or more of their horses got too tired during the day. Oxen were often the bulldozers-of-choice around most farms for such intense work like plowing rough soil (eg soil will a lot of stones in the way or a ton of clay), and generally did the jobs better than horses at a much lower cost per ox. Draft horses were incorporated into a lot of farming during the Victorian Era in particular as a sign of wealth and affluence on a farm, rather than actually employing the best animal for the job they needed to do. Oxen still tend to be better at a lot of farming-related work, but the horse breeding industry very much pushed the ox-training industry nearly to into extinction in the West.

Seeing draft horses doing the work that oxen used to do is more a product of showing off your wealth as a farmer than actually having the ideal animal for the job that needs doing, and so class perception and classism plays a large part in where and when you see horses doing the jobs that heartier animals like oxen are better suited for. Historically, a lot of farmers would sacrifice the utility and durability of oxen for the flashiness of draft horses, just like how today you'll find more specialized farming equipment on wealthier farms vs. cheaper, still-good-at-what-it-does-but-not-having-a-popular-brand-name equipment you'd find on a family farm.

So... realizing this reply is running incredibly long, the answer is: It depends on the setting, situation, the horse(s), and the care and responsibility of the owner/handler in addressing symptoms of exhaustion in the animal(s). On a cool, breezy day, a draft horse could work most of the morning and part of the afternoon, especially if the work they're being asked to do is fairly low-impact for them (again, depending on the job you're asking it to do and whether it's just one animal or multiple, how quickly a horse becomes exhausted is heavily influenced by outside factors), but may overheat and need to stop by mid-morning on a really hot, sunny day. That's the tricky thing about working with animals: They don't come with exact guarantees for how much mileage or power they can put out every day, and are vulnerable to health and environmental factors when it comes to how hard they can work and how long.

[nonbinarypirat]

Okay, I’ve been collecting my thoughts on the many-ears demon race and their subservient stance in the Netherworld. And I think this is a perfect time to make a post since chapter 361 just came out and we are getting the main conflict of the arch: conservative older generation vs progressive younger generation. Plus also the fact that the forming country and school still isn’t stable and all that. Spoilers for chapter 361!

So it’s becoming more and more clear that the main conflict will be changing the minds of the older more fearful generation of the many-ears race. Which makes perfect sense, a newer kid comes into this area with ideas of making them equals (something they have never been in their race’s history from what we know) and with the help of one of their own, starts influencing the minds of their children. Obviously the elders would be scared and want to shut this down. It looks like the many-ears can’t remember or see a past or future where they didn’t have this class system in place and the idea of it shifting could very much lead to pain and suffering. It kind of reminds me of the civil rights movement in America, like sure it lead to the many laws that protect marginalized people today, but it came at the cost of many injuries/deaths, fights, and years of activism. The road isn’t an easy one and similarly to the movement, many people didn’t see a point. There’s a few mindsets that you can fall into for this, either you don’t believe change is possible or you do believe it is possible but ultimately would not be worth pursuing because of the consequences. It seems like most fall into the “it’s not possible” with maybe some believing that even if it could change, why change something that has works for generations. The elder in particular seems to believe the second one, that maybe life could be better for them but refuses to change anything on a chance.

It’s understandable why they wouldn’t want change to happen, especially at the expense of their children. But at the same time, younger generations are typically the ones who are less willing to stick to the status quo (queue high school musical) and engage in activism. That’s why student activism is so prevalent, you become aware of new cultures, ideas, and history and are less willing to settle with what’s “worked.” Think about the recent college activism for Palestine or the student walkouts in Florida against the “don’t say gay” bill. A few examples of a much larger trend. However, as you get older you are less willing to see things change, you become compliant and many ways, complicit. Things that seemed like there wasn’t an issue or shouldn’t be an issue are now being questioned and that forces you to question your whole system. And many don’t want to confront that.

In the case for the many-ears, they have survived off of honing their hearing skill to careers that would best benefit from having superb hearing. However, what about many-ears who don’t have incredible hearing like Nova or you simply don’t want the jobs you are trained for like the children in chapter 360. What happens if someone wants to be a florist like the Monmo-chan that doesn’t require good hearing to succeed? If you base your value on your hearing alone, does someone who doesn’t want to base their worth on that lesser in their society? Are they seen as misguided, helpless, or even traitor to your race? It seems chapter 361 confirms that fear. If you don’t have great hearing, you do not have value or worth. And sure, we can argue that he was just saying that to get him to quit teaching the students, but no matter what, his statements were ableist. There’s no other way to slice it. He literally told Nova he has no value in their society because he doesn’t have the many-ears hearing skill. He may be able to hear like most other demons, but in reference to the many-ears, he has a disability that makes him “worthless” in their eyes.

I think another thing I find interesting is that they believe (probably based on a fact(s) of some kind) that they are weak. Weak in body and weak in magic. First, weak in body is something that we can, for the most part, can agree about because of their stature. They are very small compared to most demons and this easily makes them prey to many other demons. But why do they believe that not training your strength and combat isn’t at least worth pursing? Same for magic. Right now we haven’t seen much evidence this is true since we have only seen Nova sucessfully do magic, but let’s say this is true. Does learning some easy or basic spells not seem worth it? On some part the lack physical and magical prowess seems to be innate in the many-ears, but I believe a larger issue is them internalizing this perceived weakness and deciding it’s not worth learning to better themselves. We know that there does exist spells that doesn’t require much magic from Momonoki’s flashback when she was a newbie teacher. Demons come in many shapes and sizes, including magic. This wouldn’t be a new issue that there exists a demon who has small magic reserves (like Kirio for instance). There has to be more spells that exist that you can use if you fall into this category. And just because someone is smaller doesn’t mean that can’t learn how to fight or train athletically. Sure you may not be as strong as other demons, but you can always learn how to use a weapon. At the very least, learning the theory could protect them if nothing else.

At this point, it seems like the many-ears are just shooting themselves in the foot because they’d rather not even try to learn another skill that could benefit them in the future. Sure the jack of all trades may be the master of none, but as the end of the saying goes, it’s still better than the master of one. This really feels like home schooling verses public school debate too. Like sure, the school that the love trio made isn’t perfect by any means, but it provides them with a more well rounded education that doesn’t just focus on the one. The elder talks about how mastering magic isn’t guaranteed, but couldn’t we say the same with their hearing? Just because others have succeeded doesn’t mean the children are bound to accomplish greatness just because of their hearing. You can’t ever know that.

Children are full of potential and as a teacher you are supposed to give them a plethora of chances to do new things and learn new skills. By stifling them, you essentially are saying they don’t have any other potential to grow. And as a future teacher, it really makes me mad to see that their parents don’t also see their children’s potential. Not to mention that even if you are good at something, it doesn’t mean you are destined to be happy. In fact, I think many of the skills we have are better left as hobbies or something you do for fun. Making a career out of every little skill you’ve honed makes it just that, a job. And maybe not a fun one. They are just repeating a cycle that makes everyone miserable but “works” not for their children’s benefit but for their own because well, at least they are “safe.” Idk, I’d rather be happy but that’s just me.

This is also not to say that the many-ears’ issues are all created by them, clearly other demons are also to blame for this problem. A broken system doesn’t just sprout from no where, it is created by years of oppression and oppressive thinking. What demon wouldn’t take advantage of a race that seems powerless without the strength of the powerful? It creates a back and forth systemic issue that works in theory but is broken if you even think about it for two seconds. The many-ears cannot base their entire worth on their hearing, it just causes unaddressed pain and self worth problems. And not to mention, while it may be working out for them now, it isn’t sustainable. What if at some point demons decide they no longer want to rely on the many ears and start training others for the jobs they are known for? What if a disease or virus spreads that attaches their hearing? What if a large majority of them get hurt or injured, damaging their ears? Not to mention, on a small scale everyone can be disabled in their life time. If you become disabled with your hearing, you wouldn’t be able to fall back on anything. Because you based your entire existence on being able to hear well.

Ultimately, I think this is why it needs to be Nova or Nova in the future that needs to rule the many-ears because he’s living proof that your hearing not only doesn’t define you, but also that the system is built off ableist ideals. Nova should be seen as less valuable because he was born without excellent hearing, especially when he clearly loves and cares for his people. Change is built off the backs of not those in power but by those who’s been suppressed, who want to see change for themselves and for others like them. I hope Nova can see his own value even if his people don’t right now

[ninyard]

I’ve started getting into running lately (I tell everyone it’s cause my brothers a runner but in reality my decision was heavily influenced by Neil…) and I can imagine Neil encountering another runner like one of the nut job ones who eats sleeps and breathes running and Neil just being so put off by it. They’d be like what shoes are you wearing? I rotate between my hoka challengers and speed goats and my brooks. I find the speed goats are better for harder more technical runs but the challengers are perfect for more level trail. I use gels for fuel and drink a litre of flat coke before every run. My pr for a km is 5:23. And Neil would just be staring at them like wtf??? But then what’s that I see?? It’s Kevin Day with insane opinions on running fuel!! Neil leaves them standing on the side of the road talking about gels vs gummy candy for fuel and the pros and cons of different shoes. Kevin would absolutely be one of those assholes who runs shirtless. Kevin would talk Neil into signing up for a race and before hand people would be asking Neil questions about his running and he’d be like idk bro I just work here and then he’d absolutely obliterate them first place course record with Kevin close behind in character pissed off because Neil barely even tried and could’ve done better if he wanted to.

Anyways I have a completely normal level of interest in both running and the all for the game series by Nora Sakavic I promise

Kevin is definitely one of those guys that runs shirtless but wears one of those vests with weights in them or something

But he’s also way slower than Neil. He has the advantage of longer legs so he can take bigger steps but if he’s doing a sprint with Neil trust he’s losing by a long shot. Like Kevin convincing Neil to do a race, and being like “okay, so we have to train for it! It’s going to be really tough!’ Meanwhile Neil just Shows Up and ends up waiting for ages for Kevin at the finish line.

[rowiewritesstuff]

Hello! Could you do a part 2 to your Yandere!Knockout vs Yandere!Ratchet?

I'm in love with it and very curious where you will take it!

Yandere Ratchet & Knockout Part 2

You were angry and scared of Ratchet, even refusing to go back to base. What he said to you was unacceptable, and you didn’t want to be around him. You aired his calls, and told everyone you were just busy with stuff away from base. 

Ratchet was angry, often showing up at your house. He quickly realized that you weren’t at home and tried anything to track you down, but your phone was off.

To calm yourself down, you went street racing. You took the cash you’d win as prizes and went town to town, crashing in your car or in a hotel- whatever was safest and most comfortable. 

Of course it was inevitable to meet Knockout yet again, as he was a speed demon. He instantly recognized your car from when you first met. He chuckled and pulled up right next to you. “Hello again, human. You’re a long way from home.”

You were silent for a moment before mustering up the courage to speak. “And? If you plan to mess with me again, I won’t go down without a fight. The Autobots are nearby.” You lied.

“Sure they are.” Knockout laughed. He wasn’t stupid. He had been watching you for a while, tracking you from race to race with a small GPS tracker on your car. 

In a slight panic, you drove away before the race even started. Knockout laughed as he gave chase. The roads of the abandoned town were old and didn’t help your attempt to escape him. You suddenly lost him, hiding in an open garage and killing your lights. You shakily held up a burner phone, debating calling the base- but then you’d have to talk to Ratchet. 

You shook, but called. “Who is this? How did you get this number?” Ratchet’s angry voice answered from the other side of the line. Your throat felt dry as you racked your brain for exactly what to say. 

“It’s me.” Were the only words you could get out for a moment. You expected him to yell at you, or scold you for leaving without a trace- but he knew that rare tone in your voice. It was fear. 

“What’s wrong? Where are you?” He spoke quickly. 

“I’m…I’m in a small town outside of Was-” You screamed as your car was cut off by a saw. Knockout stood over you with a menacing grin.

“Did you think you could get away fleshy? I’m much smarter than you little things.” Knockout laughed as he picked you up. Ratchet yelled through the phone for him not to touch you. Before Ratchet could get a trace on your phone Knockout flicked it away. He transformed around you, driving away as fast as he could.

“Now, I believe you owe me for getting away last time. Perhaps I’ll get you a cute collar… after you tell me where the Autobot base is, of course.” Your eyes widened with fear as he called for a groundbridge. You fought, trying to use your pocket knife to stab the bot. 

Knockout growled and knocked you out with a small blast of electricity. 

“I should have known my little pet needed to be tamed.” Knockout scoffed as he drove into the glowing portal and into your new home. Hope you enjoy your stay- you’ll be here for a long time.

At the base, Ratchet broke his console in anger. He knew he shouldn't have just let you go. He should have ignored Optimus' words and locked you away. Don't worry dear, he won't make the same mistake when he gets you back.

[ywpd-translations]

Ride 772: A jersey never seen before!!

Pag 1

1: Those two are accelerating like they're right before the sprint line!!

Ruaaaagh

Ooooogh

3: Just now it was the second stage “shironeri”

4: Are you surprised, San-na? Obviously, once we get before the finish line, I'll pull out the sixth stage

5: “Golden yellow”!!

Pag 2 / 3

Who will win the title of fastest!?

The black horse Kiji Kyuui!!

Sohoku's Team SS who's aiming to be Japan's number one!!

Or Hakone Academy's Doubashi!!

Pag 4

2: Woah.... what incredible speed! Those two competing for the lead

You're right

Huh!?

3: It's Hakogaku VS Sohoku, you know, those two have the exact same cards – it's exciting

Of course Sohoku's Kaburagi is fired up for his revenge

Incredible, it's the same as last year

4: Oi, they're still coming!!

Ah?

They're chasing!!

Huh

5: They're chasing!?

What incredible energy!!

The one running in the front is from Sohoku, but there's someone else behind....

That jersey....

Pag 5

1: It's a jersey I've never seen before!! Who's that!!

Pag 6

1: It's not Hakogaku, and it's not Kyufushi either

I've never seen them before, is it their first time participating this year!?

2: On his shoulder

3: it says “Gunma”

4: Yon

Gunma!?

5: Yon

Pag 7

1: Yon

3: He's coming up right behind me!!

4: But I won't let this guy go!!

I thought my part was over, but there's still work left to do!!

5: It's a simple thing

Pag 8

1: I just have to stop his legs from 30seconds to one minute!!

2: If I do that, then those two will have passed the sprint line!!

As long as the race is completely over!!

3: I'll make Issa have his revenge!!

4: This is the guy who that day

5: When we were practicing on Minegayama

6: Fell from the sky

Pag 9

1: On a mountain bike

2: The MTB two-times in a row champion!! Gunma Ryosei's Kiji Kyuui!!

Yon

Pag 10

1: And of course he's riding a road bike today!!

2: Road bikes are nice, you know

They're light, they react quickly, there's less loss of mechanical transmission

3: The thing that's most different from mountain bikes is that the road surface isn't uneven but flat

4: Alright, he's clinging to me!!

From now on it's a race! I'll gain time!! I'll stop him!!

5: And, you know, whenever you want

Freely

Pag 12

1: You can accelerate at your own timing!! Yon!!

Ugh!!

2: He got me!!

What was that just now!! He definitely turned his body like he was going right!!

3: I reacted thinking he was going to attack from the right

4: A “feint”!!

5: And from a slanted stance like that he moved straight forward?

6: The left side was narrow, there was nothing but the ditch cover

Pag 13

1: And this guy jumped forward no matter the situation!!

Dammit!!

Pag 14

1: Immediately after clinging to me from the back!!

2: When road bikes cyclists, after a solo run, approach someone from behind

3: they always take shelter from the wind behind them

4: To rest their legs!! At least for 10-30 seconds

5: That guy did it for less than 3 seconds!!

Higaruaaa

6: Dammit, so there's guys who can have their legs recover in just 3 seconds!?

Pag 15

2: This time I'll cling to him!!

Pag 16

1: Three seconds are enough, aren't they?

3: Mountain bike is a sport where you have to continuously produce high output of energy on your own

4: In comparison, in road race, where you can rest behind someone and use them to get ahead, you only need to put out power for a split seconds

5: Really

6: Road racing is full of excitement and learning! It's really....

Pag 17

1: Fun!! Yon!!

2: He accelerated in the curve!!

Pag 18

2: He's controlling the bike's frame tilting it just at the right angle to not let the pedals....

3: hitting the road!!

4: The “tires”!!

I heard that in MTB the control of the tires is essential!!

Is he applying that to road racing!? Dammit!!

5: But!!

6: I wasn't in the SS team for nothing!!

7: I can do something like that too

Pag 19

2: Ruwa-

3: The pedal hit the road!!

Pag 20

3: Ugh!!

Number 5 lost his balance!

He's losing speed

Ugh!! I'll make Issa have his revenge.....

4: I heard a loud noise, are you okay?

6: Huh

Pag 21

1: Stay safe

2: …. he worried about me.... and then left.... taking his time... so that's... Kiji Kyuui!!

4: Hahaha, San-na!!

Pag 22

1: This is the third stage!!

“Pale yellow”!!

2: You're fast..... aren't you strong?

Really, Orange

3: Honestly, when I first heard two of you were coming up, I was disappointed

“This year too, huh”, I thought

4: But turns out it's an equal one-on-one race!!

Pag 23

1: This is the best, Orange!!

You're the most serious guy!!

Let's do it!! A full throttle battle!!

2: I'll take you on!! But I told you earlier!! You don't know my “golden yellow”, you'll lose!!

3: There are 2km left until the finish line!!

[mostlysignssomeportents]

Incomplete vs. overshoot

I'm on tour with my new novel The Bezzle! Catch me TONIGHT in Seattle (Feb 26) with Neal Stephenson, then Portland, Phoenix and more!

You know the "horseshoe theory," right? "The far-left and the far-right, rather than being at opposite and opposing ends of a linear continuum of the political spectrum, closely resemble each other, analogous to the way that the opposite ends of a horseshoe are close together":

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Horseshoe_theory

It's a theory that only makes sense if you don't know much about the right and the left and what each side wants out of politics.

Take women's suffrage. The early suffragists ("suffragettes" in the UK) were mostly interested in votes for affluent, white women – not women as a body. Today's left criticizes the suffrage movement on the basis that they didn't go far enough:

https://www.npr.org/2011/03/25/134849480/the-root-how-racism-tainted-womens-suffrage

Contrast that with Christian Dominionists – the cranks who think that embryos are people (though presumably not for the purpose of calculating a state's electoral college vote? Though it would be cool if presidential elections turned on which side of a state line a fertility clinic's chest-freezer rested on):

https://www.wnycstudios.org/podcasts/otm/segments/how-alabama-ivf-ruling-was-influenced-christian-nationalism-on-the-media?tab=summary

These people are part of a far-right coalition that wants to abolish votes for women. As billionaire far-right bagman Peter Thiel wrote that he thought it was a mistake to let women vote at all:

https://www.cato-unbound.org/2009/04/13/peter-thiel/education-libertarian/

Superficially, there's some horseshoe theory action going on here. The left thinks the suffragists were wrong. The right thinks they were wrong, too. Therefore, the left and the right agree!

Well, they agree that the suffragists were wrong, but for opposite reasons – and far, far more importantly, they totally disagree about what they want. The right wants a world where no women can vote. The left wants a world where all women can vote. The idea that the right and the left agree on women's suffrage is, as the physicists say, "not even wrong."

It's the kind of wrong that can only be captured by citing scripture, specifically, A Fish Called Wanda, 6E, 79: "The central message of Buddhism is not 'Every man for himself.' And the London Underground is not a political movement. Those are all mistakes, Otto. I looked them up."

Or take the New Deal. While the New Deal set its sites on liberating workers from precarity, abuse and corruption, the Dealers – like the suffragists – had huge gaps in their program, omitting people of color, indigenous people, women, queer people, etc. There are lots of leftists who criticize the New Deal on this basis: it didn't go far enough:

https://livingnewdeal.org/new-deal-and-race/

But for the past 40 years, America has seen a sustained, vicious assault on New Deal programs, from Social Security to Medicare to food stamps to labor rights to national parks, funded by billionaires who want to bring back the Gilded Age and turn us all into forelock-tugging plebs:

https://pluralistic.net/2022/11/06/the-end-of-the-road-to-serfdom/

If you only view politics as a game of elementary school cliques, you might say that the left and the right are meeting again. The left says Roosevelt got it wrong with the New Deal (because he left out so many people). The right says FDR was wrong for doing the New Deal in the first place. Therefore, the left and the right agree, right?

Obviously wrong. Obviously. Again, the important thing is why the left and the right think the New Deal deserves criticism. The important thing is what the left and the right want. The left wants universal liberation. The right wants us all in economic chains. They do not agree.

It's not always just politics, either. Take the old, good internet. That was an internet defined by technological self-determination, a wild and wooly internet where there were few gatekeepers, where disfavored groups could find each other and make common cause, where users who were threatened by the greed of the shareholders behind big services could install blockers, mods, alternative clients and other "adversarial interoperability" tools that seized the means of computation.

Today's enshitternet – "five giant websites, filled with screenshots of the other four" (h/t Tom Eastman) – is orders of magnitude more populous than that old, good internet. The enshitternet has billions of users, and they are legally – and technologically – prevented from taking any self-help measures when the owners of services change them to shift value from users to themselves:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/02/19/twiddler/

The anti-enshittification movement rightly criticizes the old, good internet because it wasn't inclusive enough. It was a system almost exclusively hospitable to affluent, privileged people – the people who least needed the liberatory power of technology.

Likewise pro-enshittification monopolists – billionaires and their useful idiots – deplore the old, good internet because it gave its users too much power. For them, ad-blocking, alternative clients, mods, reverse-engineering and so on were all bugs, not features. For them, the enshitternet is great because businesses can literally criminalize taking action to protect yourself from their predatory impulses:

https://pluralistic.net/2022/10/20/benevolent-dictators/#felony-contempt-of-business-model

Superficially, it seems like the pro- and anti-enshittification forces agree – they both agree that the old, good internet was a mistake. But the difference that matters here is that the pro-enshittification side wants everyone mired in the enshitternet forever, living with what Jay Freeman calls "Felony contempt of business-model." By contrast, the disenshittification side wants a new, good internet that gives every user – not just a handful of techies – the power to decide how the digital systems they work use, and to be able to alter or reconfigure them to suit their own needs.

The horsehoe theory only makes sense if you don't take into account the beliefs and goals of each side. Politics aren't just a matter of who you agree with on a given issue – the real issue is what you're trying to accomplish.

If you'd like an essay-formatted version of this post to read or share, here's a link to it on pluralistic.net, my surveillance-free, ad-free, tracker-free blog:

https://pluralistic.net/2024/02/26/horsehoe-crab/#substantive-disagreement