#and I don’t know how much it would cost to move to a different country and it’s kinda scary to think about doing that alone

[earthylight]

how am I supposed to do schoolwork when laws are being passed/proposed every day to make trans people’s lives a living hell and people are debating my right and my friends’ rights and my community’s right to live

[ace-race-ace]

The delusional Danny Ric fan make me so mad. (Not a Danny hate post)

You can tell most of them are purely in for the DTS-like drama (nothing wrong with the show itself as long as you take it with a grain of salt) who don’t understand anything about reality in a professional sport.

Why don’t they fire Checo??

Because he just recently signed a fucking contract! Do you know how hard and expensive it is to break something like that? Even with the “exit clauses” the teams still have to prove without a doubt that that Checo has breached them. That takes time and money. They much rather wait until the end of the season where they might have more “proof” and get the contract broken then, much easier. It’s also a question of reputation, the team doesn’t want to lose face and seem like they drop people harshly like this out of nowhere. That doesn’t bode well for fans, investors, and employees who would rather see a strong team.

B-but they fired Pierre and Alex like that!

Because those two were nobodies back then! At their time at RedBull, they never brought in a win. And of course the car was to blame at the time but as a team perspective, they had one incredible driver that was winning while his teammates were struggling to even stay in the points. Obviously they were going to try and change things up to see if they could get a better result. Those two didn’t have a big dedicated fan base yet, at least not as big as Checo’s. So switching them wouldn’t have as much impact.

Checo has been at RedBull for a while now and has proven he can win and get on the podium more consistently. He supported Max into getting his first WDC. He gave them their first driver championship 1-2. He’s got a hefty resume with them, getting rid of him isn’t as easy. If they do replace him, they won’t do when all the eyes are on them.

Danny also has a lot of wins at RedBull, and he’s a better driver!!!

He may be, maybe not. It’s so nonsensical to try and claim that another driver would immediately be better in that car. All the f1 cars are different, feel different, drive different. You can’t know for certain it won’t take a few races for Danny to get use to the car. Which displaces a driver who knows how to drive the RB20, Checo, which gives him a better chance of getting back up to form.

It also goes back to the point of how complicated it is to switch drivers like this. Both have contracts and are going to fight for their side. Danny can’t just swoop in, sign a contract and replace Checo. Checo can push against that. He’s been a driver at RedBull for a while now, living and breathing the brand while Danny has jumped around. So it’s beneficial to hang on to him at least till the end of the season.

Ugh it’s all about moneyyyy!

Yes. Welcome to how companies work. As long as they aren’t actively losing money by keeping Checo, they will wait until it is easier to get rid of him if they decide to do so. Checo is also incredibly popular in Mexico and other South American countries (and all around the world) which gets him a huge amount of sponsorship money. Danny is also well surrounded but he’s not as adored by a big country like Checo is. His sponsors won’t be as big. The thing he has going for him is a great PR persona, and that gets you pretty far until a certain point. And again, trying to fiddle with things now would cost RedBull a lot of money, so they will wait to make their move.

Do I believe in the whole Liberty Media/FIA meddling thing? Ehh maybe? They don’t actively have the power to tell RedBull to keep Checo but they might have used their data to discourage them from dropping Checo. In the end, it’s the company that makes the decision.

*keeps harassing the team and Checo*

Please stop. The team are never going to read shit immature fans post on social media and be like “oh yeah, they’re totally right! We need to fire Checo now!”. It just makes interacting with the content they post less enjoyable. You can watch a funny video of Checo and Max doing a challenge, and go to the comments to laugh at jokes people are making but instead it’s flooded with Checo haters that insult everything from his driving, his looks, his personality, his RACE in some extreme cases. It’s so annoying, and the poor admins that probably have to comb through all that, waisted time. Meanwhile people spam shit about Danny being better. Bro, these driver are just trying to do their job. Again, Checo isn’t going to read “Danny ric is better” and be like “oh shit they’re right, let me quit the job I’ve worked my entire life for!”. It just causes unnecessary hate and pain for everyone involved. Even Danny probably doesn’t enjoy how his “fans” are handling this shit. It only puts pressure on him to do something when he knows he can’t. And he’s on good terms with Checo and team as far as I can tell but constantly harassing/hating is only going to strain that relationship.

Please have some media literacy. Stop harassing people. And stop treating this sport like fictional story.

Sorry for the rant. Had to get it off my chest. (Btw, I don’t hate Danny or DTS fans so no need to come attack me in my inbox about that 😆)

[meret118]

"When I open my Bible, I don’t see any verses about abortion, but I see more than 2000 verses about economic justice. I don’t see any verses about gay marriage, but I see hundreds of verses about welcoming the stranger and feeding the hungry and healing the sick and freeing the oppressed.”

The biblical truth of that message notwithstanding, groups like Evangelicals for Harris know that it’s not one that the bulk of conservative Christians will be able to hear. But in the context of this election, they are not trying to save the conservative church from itself; they are trying to elect Kamala Harris. “When people hear about what we do, they think that we are in the persuasion business, that we’re going around trying to argue Trumpers into a different political opinion,” says Ryerse. “That’s a misunderstanding of what we’re trying to do.”

Instead, the group recognizes that there have been “inflection points” — kids in cages, maybe, or Jan. 6, or Trump’s felony conviction, or former Vice President Mike Pence’s disavowal — that have caused Christians who have always voted Republican to “begin to undergo some kind of political identity crisis,” as Ryerse puts it. “What we’re trying to do is not persuade the 85 to 95 percent that are not flippable. What we’re trying to do is make it easy for the 5 to 15 percent that are already in the midst of that political identity crisis, to say, ‘Hey, you’re not alone. There’s an on-ramp for a different way of engaging.’”

. . .

For the conversations that aren’t lost causes, however, Pagitt treads far more lightly. He has come to understand the delicate psychology of a Trump voter who has lost or is in the process of losing the (political) faith. He knows that it can be a lonely and alienating experience, that people would often rather be wrong and in community than right and by themselves. He’s talked to people who’ve driven out of state to attend Vote Common Good’s rallies in secret because they own the local hardware store and don’t want to be driven out of business, or because they pastor a church and don’t want to alienate their parishioners in states so red that their votes won’t matter anyway. He understands the entrenchment that can happen when someone who thinks they’re doing the right thing is told by the larger culture that it’s horribly wrong, and he’s careful not to “beat up on Trump too much” for that very reason. “We know the social costs that people are paying and how they internally feel,” Pagitt says. “In their experience, they’re going from, ‘I was the hero when I did this behavior. Now I’m going to do the opposite behavior. How am I still the hero?’ You have to help people get there.”

Mainly, Vote Common Good does that by telling them that they are still heroes, that their heroism remains intact. “Part of our theory of change is that behavioral change happens before identity change,” explains Ryerse. “We’re not out here trying to make more Democrats. We’re trying to get people to behave differently, i.e., to vote differently. The permission structure is, ‘Listen, I’m not asking you to be a Democrat. I’m asking you not to vote for Donald Trump in this election.’ What it does is [say], you can preserve your identity and change your behavior.”

Once behavior changes, of course, there’s the possibility of changing identity as well.

----

Terrific article! I hate what conservatives have done to my faith. We're not all like that!

I'm so glad I happened to see this. It really lifted my spirits.

Use this site if you want to read it.

[bitchlessdino]

chan- your personal knight/guard. been by your side since what feels like practically forever and has protected you against pretty much everything. You both are close but despite knowing him for so many years and being so close you realise you don’t actually know that much about him so on a walk maybe you’re just asking him random questions about him and learning more about him as a person. Somehow the conversations moved from something like his favourite colour to why he’s not settled down and without missing a beat he’s already answered because of you. Queue a love confession from your knight/guard that you reciprocate.

On a regular basis struggling with cheol and chan rot but today felt fluffy- idk i just think chan would be so sweet as your guard like him being super protective like ‘don’t pick that flower it might be poisonous let me check it’ and it’s like a dandelion or somet 😭

anyways just wanted to leave this with you and express how much I love your work!! I hope you have a good rest of your day or evening and genuinely thank you for taking the time to write on here, i truly appreciate the fact you take time out of your own day to read peoples requests and write whatever comes to mind <33

Pairing: royal!reader x bodyguard!chan

Genre: fluff

Word count: 3.1k

tags: royal au, overprotective chan, yearning, childhood au, love confessions, misunderstandings

author note: I forget how much fun fluff can be and I thought this concept was so cute also to the person requesting. I hope you like it. I love taking requests, including this one and i apprecate your kind words so much. we could all use your positivity. 💕

You remember when you first met Chan. He was the son of the Head of security that would tend to your father's every public and private safety. In a land ruled by a monarchy, these things were just necessary. You’ve been taught about the value you hold simply because of your bloodline and how you were the most precious there is, you must be protected and guarded at all costs. That’s where Chan came in.

He always claimed to be destined to take on a job much like his father, promising to protect you until the end of your days. That was a huge proclamation for an 8-year-old. He carried a wooden sword wherever he went and always had that big goofy smile on his face. It was his life goal to be strong and dependable like his father, and you believed he one day would.

That was the first and last time you saw him until he was officially appointed your personal bodyguard when he turned 18 years old. You were taking etiquette classes and studying scholarly journals of your country’s history, he trained day and night, mastering every possible martial art to exceed expectations as a protector. He was much different when he returned to you, and much stronger as well. He did not disappoint, but the light in his eyes as a child seemed to have faded, leaving a solemn shell of a man who lives to serve his master.

“Chan!”

He responds promptly. He stands by your side in an instant in proper attire, fit for both professional settings and in case he needs to be active, and meets your eyes. “Yes, your highness.”

“Bake with me.”

He blinks, “Your Highness. Would you not rather have the chefs bake something for you if sweets are what you desire?”

You stare back at him pointedly, crossing your arms, “Are you talking back to me?”

His gaze perks up at the accusation, immediately shaking his head, “No, your high—“

You laugh, doubling over at his panicked expression. “Just kidding. I wanted us to bond! No better bonding than creating delectable pastries. No objections.”

“Yes, your highness.”

He was there whenever you needed him. He never told you ‘no’ and he always did what you told him to. All done with a stone face. He took his duty seriously. He was far from who he used to be, which was probably a given, it had been around a decade. That’s when you executed a plan of action to peel away those layers, hoping to find the cute boy that childishly wanted to blindly protect you. 

It was over time you saw progress, seeing him smile at every comment or the little mistakes you couldn’t help but make (you swear to him you’re normally more graceful than that) when he thinks you aren’t looking. You loved that: making him laugh. He has a beautiful smile. And the more you spent time with him, the more it feels he knows you, even bringing things you need without you even having to ask, but what was it you know about him?

“Chan.”

Right on the dot as always. “Yes, your highness.”

“Walk around the garden with me.” You take his hand before he can even answer and had him trodding beside you out of the palace.

“Please slow down, your highness.”

You practically dragged him, it was necessary given the Palace’s size.

“There is very little daylight left. We must make the most of our day. This is a royal order!” You playfully command.

“It is 3 pm, your highness!”

“Royal order!”

You walk side by side with him taking in the air, the freshly cut grass, and hearing the birds sing their sweet melody. Calling it a beautiful afternoon was an understatement. Even after living in the place you call home for so long, there is more that surprises you. “Doesn’t the sky look extra blue today, Chan?”

He softly grins. “It does, your highness.”

You turn your head, watching the smile slip out of view, “Speaking of which, what is your favorite color, Chan?”

He thinks for a moment. “Blue, actually, your highness.”

You offer him a wide grin. “That suits you very well. I’m glad I know that. How was it that you’ve protected me for so long and I never knew that?”

Chan is quiet at that, not sure how to answer.

“My favorite color is green, or was it purple?” You cross your arms in thought, a single finger tapping against your cheek, “Last week it was pink.”

“It should be yellow, your highness. You decided to wear the yellow two-piece today.”

You look down at your attire and confirm his statement, seeing the pretty outfit you properly picked out the day before with Chan. You twirl, watching how the sun reflects off the expensive fabric, “You’re right. Looks like you know me better than I know myself again, but of course.”

His eyes fill with concern. “Does that make you uncomfortable, your highness?”

“No. Not necessarily. It just feels very one-sided. You know so much about me, but I feel like I know so little about you.” You skip ahead of him and you hear his footsteps catching up.

“I apologize, your highness. I never believed it was necessary information.”

“Of course, it is. How am I supposed to trust you if I know nothing about you?” You pointed out nonchalantly.

“I apologize again, your highness. This was careless of me.”

You turn around and let him stand beside him and push him ahead, “Nevermind that. What’s your favorite food?”

He stumbles slightly but does not let the matter phase him, used to you treating him much like a companion rather than the help, “Barbeque.”

“Favorite animal?”

“Otters.”

“Favorite ice cream flavor?”

“Chocolate.”

“Least favorite thing about me?”

“Nothing.”

“Ah ha–oh.” You tilt your head. “Nothing? Seriously?”

“There is nothing to dislike, your highness, and even if there was, I could not speak out on it. However, there isn’t.”

You blink back at him dubiously, an aggressive finger pointing at his chest, “Are you lying, Chan?”

“Not at all, your highness.”

He would have no reason to lie, you thought. And like he said, if he did, he much rather not answer. You stare at him for a little longer, scanning his frame before simply shrugging and continuing your leisure stroll.

“Hmm, alright. Favorite genre of music?”

“...girl group pop.”

Your eyes widen at that, smiling from ear to ear. “No way! Which group?”

The tips of his ears cause a hue of red, spreading all across his cheeks in an instant. “Apink…”

“Ooo, how refreshing. I would’ve never guessed.”

Chan was relieved to hear such a positive and encouraging response, feeling his hairs falter just a little bit, quite enjoying your company. “It’s very encouraging when I train. They lift my spirits.”

You chortle. “That’s quite endearing of you, Chan. I feel like I’m knowing you way better already.”

“That’s a relief, your highness.”

“What else do you like to do in your free time? You spend most of the day with me, even tend to events with me, but I have no idea what you do for fun?”

He was drawing a blank. What did he do worth mentioning? “Mmm, lots of activities. Such as…”

“Such as?” You egg on.

“Such as–-horseback riding, jousting, martial arts–”

You wave the list off. “Save the pleasantries. I mean real hobbies, ones not instilled by the palace. Things that are actually fun.”

“They are fun, you highness…But I guess I do like dancing.”

You perk up once more, strutting backward to talk while facing him, “Dancing? How lovely! You must show me how you move. This instant!”

He grows flustered, knowing they were still very close to the other guards and staff in the palace. He wasn’t sure he felt about showing off his moves this publicly. “Another time, your highness. I feel rather shy at the moment.”

“Oh, but you must, you must! What do you do? Ballroom? Contemporary? Interpretive–Wha!” You feel yourself trip over a rock, falling backward in slow motion, shutting your eyes for impact, until a strong pair of arms prevent you from collapsing.

“Your highness, are you alright?”

Feeling him pull you against his chest, you stare back into the eyes of your savior. His genuine fright and concern peek through his gaze and he grips your build extra firmly. He instinctively frowns, lips quivering anxiously, sweeping your stray hairs away from your face. You naturally melt in his embrace.

You nod, sighing a breath of relief. “I am fine, Chan. Thank you.”

“Who knows what you could’ve landed on.” His gaze scans over the bed of flowers behind you, vibrant and vivacious, “they could be poisonous for all we know.”

You allow yourself to land back on your feet, turning your gaze on the same bed of flowers. “Those are dandelions.”

Chan feels redder than a tomato in August. How is he constantly embarrassing himself, he thought to himself. “Oh. Well, better safe than sorry. Your Highness.”

You chuckle, infatuated by his thought process. “You truly are something, Lee Chan. Your significant other does not have a boring life with you around.”

“I don’t have a significant other, your highness.” 

“That's strange. I’d say you’re at the age to be married or betrothed. Why aren’t you?” You mention, decidedly walking side by side with him.

“Why, my work is the most important thing in my life. I do not have the time to commit myself to someone other than the royal family.”

You raise a brow, “Your father was married and had two kids by your age. If he could do it, I don’t see how you couldn’t.”

“Now, you’re sounding like my mother,” he jokes.

“She is a wise woman.”

He splays a bittersweet smile. “If I’m being honest, I’ve been given a few opportunities, but I don’t believe they can take the place of the person I hold in my heart. No one will.”

You clap your hands together in excitement. “So you are interested in dating? Tell, good sir. Who is the lucky lad or lass?”

“Someone far worthy than I’ll ever be and deserves more than what I can give them.”

You slightly shove him, finding such an assumption doubtful. “Oh please. You’re strong, you’re kind, you’re handsome…anyone would absolutely be ecstatic to have you.”

Chan felt warm all over, taking your words into careful consideration, “Do you truly mean that, your highness?”

“Are you doubting a royal?” You chuckle, “I do. Tell them. I am sure they would happily return your feelings.”

He halts his steps, and you quickly follow, curious about his abrupt actions, “...You ask me why I am still unwedded and untaken. How would you feel if I said you were the reason?”

“No excuses. You can’t use work as an excuse for your lack of love life.” You wag a finger at him.

“Not like that,” He takes your hand in his, bringing it up in mid-air, thumbing over the pristine skin of your knuckles, “How would you feel if I admitted the person I hold dearest to my heart is you, your Highness?”

A gust of wind takes you by surprise, the fallen flowers and leave being picked up with it and fall around you like a picture-esque scene in a movie. Your heart pounds a million times a minute, staring back in awe at his presence, overflowing with love and sincerity, and your eyes flutter from the breathlessness you feel in your chest and throat. You stare at Chan like the first time you were reunited with him, with pure unadulterated infatuation.

“Me, you say? Well, I’d say I was surprised, flabbergasted,…flattered.”

You feel the heat of your cheeks from the back of your free hand. “And inexplicably flustered.”

You release your hand from his grasp, the lingering sensation of his hand on your skin causing you to clench and release, and your heart easily audibly through your eardrums. You look towards the ground, finding it hard to meet your guard’s eyes. “Your choice of humor is rather brass.”

“Your highness–”

“It’s supper time. I must get going. I will see you back at the palace, Chan.”

You make your grand escape, clutching your frills, shielding your face from others in the palace with your arm before heading u to your room. You collapse against the bed, clutching your burning face in a silk pillow, yelling muffled songs of your fluster, reimagining the majestic look on his face when he confessed his feelings. Deep down you knew there was truth in his words, but how could you normally react to something so abrupt from someone so…admirable.

You embrace your pillow, push down your swelling heart, and smile. Tears of bliss fall to your cheeks and you can’t help but kick your feet like an excited schoolgirl.

You find yourself making glances at Chan when you reunite at the dinner. As usual, he does not have dinner with you but he stays by you for your own protection and eats afterward once you’ve finished. He’d look as solemn as he always did in front of other people. He took his job almost too seriously, sometimes even tasting your meal with a separate spoon in case it was poisoned. You used to laugh at his old-fashioned methods of work, there was technology for that sort of thing now, but you finally understand his devotion to his service. There more to meet the eyes, you realize.

When he follows you all the way up to your room for a night's rest, you part ways. You squirm in his presence, his confession fresh in your mind. “Good night, Chan.”

You are ready to run from him until he calls out to you, hesitancy in his voice. You meet his apologetic gaze, regretful of their last close encounter. He wishes you would not see him any differently, that he was simply a lowly guard and protector to you. His feelings towards you would not have changed regardless of your reaction. He knew his place and that was by your side as a human shield.

“Please take no more than a single thought at my confession today. Do not let it diminish my utmost respect and loyalty to the royal family. Have a good slumber, your highness.”

He retreats to his quarters conveniently not too far from your chambers, standing by the door, he gestures for you to enter your room and you obliged, watching his figure disappear behind your door. You fear that the air had changed between you, and perhaps not for the better. Your sleep would be anything but peaceful that night.

“Your highness, Good morning.”

He stands tall and firm with a smile as wide as a river. He holds beside him a fairly large trunk, gripping it by the handle.

You peer at his figure in worry, and earnest fear. “What is this, Chan?”

“I’ve decided to leave the palace forever. I realize my life was being wasted away taking care of someone who could never love me as much as I love them. So, I’ve taken on a lover of the same status.”

As if by magic a common lady appears, taking him by the arm and nuzzling his nose. They look in love, happy, and a sharp pain would shoot through your heart.

“No.” You chant.

“You will never see my face again. Goodbye. Your Highness.”

“Chan, no.”

The image of their silhouette gets smaller and smaller as they walk further away. You fall to your knees in desperation. “Chan please!”

You sob in your sleeves, hands reaching out to their shirking figures until you can only hear the echoes of your pleas.

“CHAN!”

You sit up from your bed, perspiration dampening your forehead and you are flushed to the touch. Clutching your sheets, you sigh a breath of relief that was only a dream. Soon after, your doors swing open, and a panicked guard in his baby blue nighttime attire runs to claim you, “Your Highness. I’m here. I’m here.”

His strong arms wrap tightly around your frame, soothing strokes to your hair, whispering to you it’d be okay. Your hands instinctively hold on to the fabric of his clothes, squeezing the flesh underneath, drinking in his soap’s scent and noticing how pleasant and just to your taste it was. “I know.”

He pulls you away to stare back at you, scanning you for any signs of danger placed upon you.

“I’m okay,” you reassure, “just a bad nightmare.”

“What foul image betrays you to cause such a reaction? I was ready to spar with whatever evil demon tried kidnapping you.”

He must’ve been still asleep, you assume. His colorful vocabulary, wakes you up delightfully.

“I am fine. I promise. Come, I’ll walk you to the door.”

You push him out of bed, meeting the exit, while your guard’s doubts seep out of him like a fountain. 

“Are you sure? Was it truly just a nightmare? Do you need new sheets? A snack to soothe you?”

“Not at all, all good, my good sir. Good night.”

You attempt to push him out completely but he holds you back from doing so, gripping the rims of the bedroom door. “I just want to assure you’re okay, your highness.”

You fall a little deep into those eyes, perceiving the truth of his word in them. It drove you insane how a simple confession could affect you this much. You brighten up your world, open your eyes, and made you feel alive, just like a person in love does. “I am. Just…don’t go anywhere. Stay right where you are.”

He gives a confused smile, his gaze softening the same way your tone does. “But your highness, you were just pushing me away a few seconds ago—“

You tug against his shirt and your lips for the first time make contact, his plush surface meeting yours seamlessly. Your hands clasp over his cheeks and neck, languidly moving them against him. You slowly process how he reciprocates, holding you to his chest tenderly, savoring your warmth, taste, and how it all excited him. The thin fabric between your body was the only thing to stop you, and the world around you simply disappeared. 

Before you both knew it, you were pulling him back into the bedroom. He’d quickly follow, doesn’t leave until the following morning, carrying out what he only imagined in his dreams, even if it was only for the night. It was the matter of his duty to keep you safe, to keep you happy. And he knew he could make you happy.

[dizzyduck44]

Zak Brown said something this weekend I’ve been arguing for years. Let’s have an F1 calendar that has rotating tracks. There are those set in stone and those we go to different years. But what would that look like as a 24 race calendar?

Personally I think sone tracks that stepped up in Covid should be given the right to host occasional Grand Prix. So here’s my suggestion.

First let’s talk track that have to remain.

Australia - be it Melbourne, Sydney, Bathurst or round Ayers Rock, it’s the only one in its continent. It stays.

Silverstone, UK - home of the first Championship race, great track loved by drivers and fans, always well attended. It stays.

Suzuka, Japan - long standing history of Japan and its motor industry in F1. Same as Silverstone, great track loved by drivers and fans, always well attended. It stays.

COTA, USA - seen as the peak of the modern designed tracks, loved by drivers and fans, always well attended. Put F1 on the map in the US through hard work, for that reason it stays.

Monaco - love it, hate it, it’s a huge challenge on the drivers and historically one of the triple crown races. It stays.

Red Bull Ring, Austria - despite its remote location and weather unpredictably it is a great race track that offers interesting races. It stays.

Interlargos, Brazil - another driver and fan favourite. The passion of the fans when we know how much tickets costs compared to wages in that country. Hard to deny it should be on the calendar. It stays.

Singapore - I’m all about the F1 world championship being a challenge for drivers in all conditions. Night racing in that heat. For the challenge it offers I think it has to stay.

Monza, Italy - if we test everything over the course of the season, speed should definitely be one of them. Historic track that has started to get huge crowds again. It stays.

Baku, Azerbaijan- this race nearly always delivers. Huge technical areas alongside high speed. Becoming a popular destination race. I say keep it.

Abu Dhabi - yes the track has its haters but again it’s a day night race (different challenge) on a technical track. If you are looking for a driver that can do it all. It has to stay.

Now what’s missing

Africa - every other continent is represented already. There needs to be a race here. Moving forward this should be a space that is always available as and when they are ready. F1 and the FIA need to get behind this and help in its development.

Tracks I want to argue for

Bahrain - it has been there for F1 and is always willing to open its doors. Not always a brilliant race but for its commitment I say keep it.

Canada - again historic race of the F1 calendar. Is it the best faculties and race? No. Is it super limited for weather when it can be run? Yes. Sentimentally I want to keep it though.

Spa, Belgium - oh man. Where to start. I love this track but I don’t love its safety record. Driver favourite but attend at your own peril for fans. However on the balance of the challenge it presents (as you might of guessed this is an important criteria) I say keep it.

Budapest, Hungary - this again is a long standing race on the calendar and has given us some classics. Cheap Grand Prix options for a lot of European fans so I would say a keep.

That’s 16. So how to fill the remaining 8 races.

China and Zandvoort have both expressed their difficulties in continuing to host Grand Prix and Mexico sales will be interesting to see once Checo retires. So here’s what I would do.

Offer Zandvoort a share with a German track, alternate years. I know Nubergring has issues but the mere mention of Hockenheim has older F1 fans drooling.

South Korea want back in so offer them a share with China. In reality China went awol for 3 years and no one missed it.

Barcelona, Spain alternate with Portamio, Portugal. Portamio came through during Covid and seems to have been forgotten. Also as close to Northern Africa as we’ve been for a while.

Miami alternate with Las Vegas. Very few people feel the US needs three races and I still say it’s not sustainable. The locals of both venues may be happier for the disruption to be biannual. Honestly though, not sure anyone would mourn the loss of Miami. Ultimately this may become the remaining race alternates with Mexico.

Qatar and Jeddah need to alternate. To have 4 races practically on top of each other in the Middle East is a joke. I’ve already saved 2, these need to alternate.

A European GP in either Imola, France (if they want to join in again) or one of the other European F1 tracks listed that doesn’t host that year can bid for it.

This leaves two spaces open if a race wants to enter or as we see in Zandvoort and Austria, one driver causes a ticket boom. Or do Istanbul. Turkey and the Sakhir Circuit layout in Bahrain (come on it was a goody) want to alternate. Still leaves a space. Also gives room for races to avoid holidays and religions festivals. 26 countries in 22 races. F1 reckon they could have 28 races. Well now you have space to accommodate more than 28 tracks.

[hannahssimblr]

Chapter Five (Part 3)

When we get back to my apartment, I have to pay the driver because Marnie can’t find her bag. I think I give him too much money but he doesn’t give me any change. The trip costs more money than I would spend in three days, and I dimly suspect that I will be upset about it in the morning.

I fumble my keys in the lock once we climb to the second floor of the apartment block, and it takes much longer than usual to get inside because the keyhole seems to be in a different place than it usually is, the whole lock moving around exotically in front of my eyes. I don’t turn the lights on, because the effort of finding the switch seems far too great, and we both stumble around in the dark searching for the staircase, my limbs so heavy and lethargic, but I can’t help but giggle as Marnie collides with a dining chair, sending its metal legs shuddering across the kitchen tiles. She starts giggling too, and then shushes me extremely loudly. 

“You shush.” I stage-whisper to her, right as I crash my shins into the coffee table and yelp out in pain, which makes her laugh even harder. A light flips on upstairs. 

“What’s going on?” Comes a clear, sober, and very irritated voice as Claire comes down the stairs in pink satin pyjamas. I’m stricken by how perfect she looks even with messy hair and marks on her cheek from her pillow, and how cretinous Marnie and I must seem in comparison, drunk, dishevelled, and one of us with actual vomit on her top. 

“Sorry.” I say weakly. “We were trying to be quiet.”

She looks us up and down. “Well okay, clearly you’ve after been drinking all night, and that’s your choice, like, but can you not make such a racket when you come in? I was asleep.”

“You weren’t out yourself, no? On a Friday night, like?” Marnie says cheekily, but Claire doesn’t answer, she just stares her down with the kind of venomous disapproval that could make a grown man squirm. 

“Sorry.” I say. “We’ll be quiet. We’ll go to bed and won’t disturb you again.”

“It’s fine, you could just be more considerate next time.”

While Marnie and I lay together in my bed she turns to me and sniffs “Your housemate is a bit of a culchie, isn’t she?”

“What do you mean?” I say, trying not to focus on the way that the bed is spinning beneath me like a the waltzers at a theme park. 

“Like, I mean she’s one of those country girls who’s really boring. She doesn’t know how to have actual fun.”

“She does.” I say defensively. “Just maybe she didn’t feel like going out tonight.”

“In general though, I mean.”

“Mm?”

“She’s got the vibe of someone who’ll marry a boy she met in secondary school, then have kids at twenty five and then live in her hometown for the rest of her life.”

“I don’t know if there’s anything wrong with that.”

“I suppose, but it’s not very interesting, is it? To never learn anything about the world outside of yourself or to experiment or have unique experiences.”

“Do you think that’s what you’re like? Open minded?”

“Yeah. I think we’re both a bit like that. We’re not meant to be caged in, we’re meant to make something of ourselves and to stand out as being different. I like to imagine myself written about in some magazine far in the future, to have been a notable woman with notable things to contribute to society, not just a mother, a wife, the property of some dull, unextraordinary man.”

“Hm.” I say, partially because my focus is still off-kilter, but partially because I’m busy contemplating her image of me, as someone who’s meant for something, someone too big for a banal, traditional existence. I’m enjoying thinking of myself in those terms because it ignites warmth inside me, makes me feel worthy of more.

She’s silent for a long while after that, and I’m beginning to think that she’s asleep when she rolls over to face me in the dark. “I kissed Fiona tonight.” She confesses. “In the bath.”

“Wow.” I slur. “What was it like?”

“It was pretty good. I don’t usually kiss other girls, but she was looking at me like she wanted to. She told me that I’m pretty.”

“Well, you are.”

“Mm.” She agrees.

“Do you fancy her?”

“No, I don’t think so. I was just trying it out. Unfortunately I think I prefer men.”

I chuckle, and then for some reason feel compelled to share something with her too, as though we’re now trading vulnerable moments like football cards. “Something weird happened with Dean tonight.” I whisper, and I hear her body shifting in the blankets to face me again. 

“Why? What happened?”

“He touched my hand. Out of the blue. He grabbed it and started drawing on it with his fingers.”

“And he didn’t like, say anything before he did that?”

“No, and he looked weird.”

“Did it make you uncomfortable?”

“No, he was just looking.” Speaking is an effort, and I’m not sure I’m making the kind of sense that I think I am, but I don’t really care that much anymore. Everything feels surreal and dreamlike, even the words coming out of my mouth barely feel as though they belong to me. A weighty, sleepy feeling overpowers me and I shut my eyes, feeling myself carried away into the darkness behind my lids. 

I feel her turn over one last time beside me. “Do you fancy him?” She whispers. 

“No.” I say drowsily. “No, I don’t think so.”

Prev // Next

[neverwritewhatyouknow]

I'm the previous anon who was talking about Indian Colonial history

I do follow you but I wanted to remain anonymous because I'm kinda shy 😭. You can call me Madhuri so that it's clear who I am

So I hadn't really put much thought into Shaan being a direct employee of the British monarchy until the other anon pointed it out and the more I think of it, the more weirded out I get because in a fictional novel, I feel that the author has the responsibility to make their content respectful to all groups of people and this move was kind of thoughtless.

Indians were treated like shit when the British governed our land. Basically, the British arrived as cloth traders and by creating this elaborate debt trap for rural weavers, they took over our economy and gained trade monopoly. They got some tax cessations from different kings and finally in the Battle of Plassey, they took over Bengal, a super super important place because it was in the plains, had a long coastline and was one of the most industrialised towns.

They started taxing people to hell and back with no regard for their well being. They told our kings they would provide them arms and forces to protect themselves against other rulers all while instigating whatever the opposite of peace is (I literally cannot think of a work for this, I'm so sorry)

Indians were forced to pay them, work for them without pay and make goods for them at extremely nominal amounts while the British got all the profit. We were kidnapped from our own lands and sent to plantations. There was this inland immigration act which did not allow workers to even exit tea gardens without written permission which was rarely given. They shut down our press and arrested our revolutionaries. Our people were forced to fight in the army. The first revolution actually started because the army was being forced to use bullets greased with pig fat and cow fat one of which was haram for muslims and the other was the product of an animal holy to the Hindus.

They decimated our country and the impact is still felt today.

I have watched a lot of movies about colonialism in India and one of the most chilling lines Ive heard was something along the lines of 'A bullet costs one pound by the time it reaches your gun Soldier. Are you really going to waste it on brown trash' this was followed by the soldiers beating a mother to death in front of her daughter and the entire village.

I'll recommend some movies to you. They are fiction but manage to capture the history so so well. You can find these on Netflix btw.

1) Lagaan- it's about taxation during a time of drought and a surreal way to escape it

2) RRR- honestly, I had watched some part of it but couldn't watch further because of how chilling it was and how hard it hit but it is considered to be amazing

3) Rang De Basanti- It's about college students shooting a film about freedom fighters and it alternates with the story of the revolutionaries and their parallels with the characters. These students are changed forever when one act makes them question the entire system and they become revolutionaries themselves. The ending was surprising and I could feel my heart being ripped out of my chest

Hey, Madhuri! No worries, I totally understand wanting to stay anonymous, I’m literally the same way on here so I get it.

Thank you so much for this! Yeah, my history classes definitely didn’t go over enough about any of this, but I’ll be reading more about everything this week, because it’s important and I want to learn more. It’s clear there is an entire history between Britain and India that I only know the very tip of, so thank you again for writing this all out. I’m sure a lot of people probably don’t know much about this (unfortunately, since our textbooks tend to… you know… veer on the side of the oppressors), so this will all be incredibly educational to anyone reading it. Feel free to send more my way whenever you want! I love this!

I’ve heard awesome things about RRR, but didn’t know what it was about. I’m gonna watch it this weekend! And that last movie sounds really good too! Thanks for the recs!!!

As for Shaan… I honestly think Casey just wasn’t thinking. This isn’t in defense of them, an author should always think about what they’re doing and how it could show up on page or screen, but I truthfully think they just wanted to fill that role with some sort of minority and picked Indian because of the large UK Indian population. I’d bet all of the money in my wallet ($20) that Casey doesn’t know any more than the vague basics of everything you’ve told me. I noticed that they described Nora, who’s Jewish, using some stereotypical Jewish traits too (I can write more on this if anyone wants, don’t want to hijack this post). It really was a guess-and-pick of races and ethnicities for them. I love how diverse the book is, but it’s sorta clear it was done for the spectacle, not for any real heartwarming reason. Casey knew it would probably sell better, since it would be talked about as an incredibly varied collection of characters, I don’t think they thought about more than that, or didn’t think it would matter because of the positives.

Do I think Casey meant any direct hurt with it? No.

Do I think that Casey’s lack of understanding or having any knowledge beyond their contained worldview causes harm indirectly? Yes.

[crippleswag]

hi there!! disabled American teenager here.

in case you haven't heard, the us is an actual hellscape right now, and I know i will not be able to live here as an adult with all of the consequences of capitalism (i will not be able to work as an adult. i don't know what else to do).

so uh. would you mind giving a review of what it's like living in Sweden as a disabled person? like, can you live on disability? (we can't here, lmao.) how long are the healthcare waits? how ableist is society as a whole there? and accessibility and stuff? also, learning swedish would cost too many spoons; does the majority of the population know English?

you don't have to answer this ask if you aren't comfortable, but if you do, I've pretty much narrowed down my list of possible countries to move to to Iceland, New Zealand, and Sweden, so if any other disabled person sees this who lives in one of those countries or has suggestions, it would be greatly appreciated :)

hey!

okay so i can only speak from my experiences, so keep that in mind!

applying for disability benefits isn’t that hard, you can do so through your general health care doctor for physical health reasons and psych doctor for mental health reasons. they’ll fill it in for you and you just have to answer the questions verbally (that’s what i did). this request goes to försäkringskassan, and i got answer pretty quick that i got approved. you can apply for three years at a time if i remember correctly, but they do want you to get rehabilitated so that you eventually can do work to some extent, but you can keep applying. i don’t know much about what happens if you get denied though since that hasn’t happened to me yet thankfully lmao. they also do semi regular check ins during the time you’ve been approved for. for me, they want me to do PT & DBT before i eventually go back to work (and if i’ll even be able to lol), so they do call sometimes to ask how things are going. they are generally annoying but yeah, which government agency isn’t?

the waiting lists are terrible here, they can be incredibly long, i waited 2 years to get into the gender clinic, and that’s actually a short time from what i’ve heard. i haven’t had to get referred to something for my physical health yet (thought i am waiting for that lol), so i don’t know what the general waiting times are for that, but i’m guessing those are long too.

i haven’t had super bad encounters with ableists thankfully, it’s mostly my therapist and the doctors i’ve met that has treated me like shit for wanting pain management (and because i’m fat but that’s a whole other issue). doctors here are incredibly reluctant to give pain medications in my experience, even when i had a 10/10 pain at the ER they wouldn’t give me anything, despite me not being able to walk and screaming whenever i moved around. i’ve only had one good doctor who actually cared about me and my pain, she did prescribe me gabapentin which has helped immensely. it took 5 or something tries to get them to listen to me. so a general rule here is to never give up, and keep fucking nagging the doctors until they care lmao. so yeah, ableist (and fatphobic) doctors is a problem here. i can’t come up with more examples except that most people think that chronic disabilities go away with exercise lmao.

accessibility is different depending on where you live, and i can mostly just speak on where i live. big issue: we do not have public transportation in my town, which is often a necessary thing for some disabled people (who can’t drive etc.). thankfully i have a car, without it i would never leave my home. also in my town, most apartment buildings have the apartments one half floor up aka stairs, there aren’t many buildings in my town that has elevators. the ones with elevators are considered more luxurious here and i’ve noticed they usually have higher rent too lmao. but also i live in a smaller town, so there aren’t many options anyways. if you have specific questions about accessibility feel free to send another ask, because i can’t think of more right now (very tired lol).

and yeah, sweden is a somewhat known for being a good english speaking country if i remember correctly, don’t know the exact rating though. the people who aren’t that good are usually 50+, most young people know english well. swedish is a hard language to learn, but it’s not super super important since for most things you can ask for english i think. but it might be worth trying to learn swedish in your own pace if you’re planning to move here. i’m not sure about how citizenship stuff works here, and if knowing swedish is a requirement.

in general sweden is a decent country, there are a lot of issues but it could be worse. i personally don’t mind living here, things have worked out for me, disability wise and stuff like that.

and to my fellow swedes: feel free to add on to this, and how your experiences has been like!

[ishika-blogging]

Micro Outlook: Navigating daily life through a micro eco view

Microeconomics is a side character in our life which actually also is the main character, just usually unnoticed. Let me share a little slice of my day with you. This one day, a beautiful morning, it rained so beautifully and it was such a beautiful weather. The sound of rain, the earthen smell, and the cool breeze. Everything about the weather was pointed towards absolute perfection. I just wanted to go to the balcony and snuggle in my bed, do nothing and just observe the weather. But oh, to my realization, it was Tuesday. A regular working day. Which meant that I had classes.  I halfheartedly had to get up to get ready and go to my classes. Guess what that was? You’re sweet to notice if you realized what this was, but you’re still sweet if you did not. Getting a good sleep was my opportunity cost here. Just for the record, I absolutely had a great time getting up and going to classes (sarcasm intended). So, moving on, when I was on my way to the university, we were struck in the traffic due to the rain. I love rain, but the traffic and roadblocks are the worst part about it. Well, I decided to plug in music to not pay attention to that. Just as I was about to, I heard a group of people talking. I wasn’t eavesdropping, they just talked loud enough for several  people to hear. They were discussing about how the price of tomato would go lower by the end of September since its gotten very high and the government would interfere and put a price ceiling on the high prices soon. These were the adaptive expectations they set. Adaptive expectations are always set by people about a lot many other things too, this was just a part of what I witnessed.

After I got done with the classes, when I was on my way home my father stopped at the gas station to fill up the car. I had nothing much to do so I just sat and thought about how high the price of petrol was. INR 96 per liter, the inflation is insane! I couldn’t help but think about how many people would switch to public transport and how the car sales would have gone down as petrol and car are complement goods. I don’t even know how, that just came to my mind because like, I’m usually not that political about stuff. And since we are on the topic, I also realized that there are only a few companies in the oil industries in India so they all cooperate and act as oligopoly. After getting the car all filled up, I reached home, freshened myself up and had my lunch. I rested for a bit and then got up because- well I had an assignment due. I didn’t really want to put it off  till the last minute because my luck could fail me anytime. And a little bit of overthinking here. Well, let’s look at it objectively. The assignment might just not upload, or worse, my internet could not work. Anything could happen. So after working on my assignment, I decided to surf on the internet a little bit. Just for fun, I looked up the concert tickets for a BTS concert, and the front row prices had me a little zoned out for a while. I was a little surprised. Let’s just say- the prices were very high for me to even dream about attending a concert at this age, in the front row and in a different country because the tour didn’t include our country yet. I wondered if it takes time for front row tickets to sell but then to my surprise I found out that even these high priced tickets were sold out within seconds of the ticket release. Yes, seconds of the ticket release. Even the tickets which were purchased and sold for even higher prices by people to earn profits were sold. And let me tell you, these prices set by people who black marketed the tickets were absurd. No matter how high the prices went, people were ready to buy the tickets. I mean, the band does make good music, so I guess the hype is reasonable. We can say that the tickets here would be considered as Giffen goods. Well, I consoled myself with the typical “I’ll go when I will start to earn myself” and shut down my laptop; no use to being delusional.

It was evening by the time I did all the work and finished my work. I decided to go out and take a walk. I called up my friends and we hung out together for the evening talking to each other for a while. I was really craving for dumplings and my friends wished to eat something as well so I suggested that we all go and eat something. When we reached the food outlet, there was the common dilemma of choosing what to eat apart from the dumplings as there was a lot of other choices. We took our time and finally decided upon three things- dumplings, chili potato and noodles. But we realized that we could have two things out of the three, given the limited amount of money we were carrying since it was a spontaneous plan. We had to make a choice. We chose dumplings and noodles. There was a trade-off between the three options and we sacrificed chili potato to get dumplings and noodles since we had limited resources (money) with us. Had we carried more money, we could have purchased all three of them of course. Then we finally ate. Initially, I enjoyed the dumplings a lot since I was craving for them. And so everyone ate and agreed on getting one more plate of the dumplings. But by the end of second plate of dumplings, I was really full, there was a huge difference between the satisfaction I got after the first bite and the last one. I didn’t derive as much satisfaction as I initially did. It was due to the Law of diminishing marginal utility here. We ate and then walked our way back till we parted our way homes. At the night, my mother was getting ready to go to the market to purchase groceries and asked me if I wanted to tag along. I had not gone out with her to the market in a while and I could also help her pick up the bags as they can get kind of  heavy. So, I agreed and went with her. Vendors from all walks of life set up their stalls. There was a hustle and bustle all around and there were a lot of stalls. And on the stalls were people bargaining and purchasing. There was demand and supply of different commodities. We noticed that the stall of Apples had a lot of crowd. I soon got to know that it was because the prices of the Apples had recently gone down, so people wanted to purchase them. As price was less, it affected the demand and the quantity demanded for apples was high. As we went further, we saw the stall of tomatoes. The price for tomatoes was very high. I did hear that it had gone up, but I didn’t know that it had gone up THAT high. My mom tried to bargain but the tomato seller clearly refused. The price was the same everywhere and no vendor was ready to sell it below that price. Since the tomato sellers set up a competitive market, there wasn’t much impact if one buyer didn’t buy their product since there were numerous others who would buy at that price since tomato is essential in most of the food items. After a while, we were met with a friend of my mom’s in the market. They both started talking and discussed about various stuff. They also mentioned how the tomatoes have become absurdly costly to which her friend said that the tomatoes have become so costly that she doesn’t buy much tomatoes and uses the packed and readymade tomato puree available in the market. Tomato and the readymade tomato puree are substitute goods so as the prices of the tomatoes increased, people started using the readymade puree as a temporary substitute and demand for it increased. When I reached home, I was a little tired and so I had my dinner and then I head to my bed to sleep.

As we explore our daily lives, microeconomics concepts influence our choices and decisions quietly. From seemingly ordinary to the bigger scale, these concepts paint a vivid picture of the world we inhabit. From the moment we wake up to the time we lay our heads down on the bed at night, economic concepts are unnoticeably and quietly at work, influencing the choices we make and the outcomes we experience.

[freya-fallen]

Beastly 6/17

CWs: talk about sibling incest, politics. let me know if I ever miss anything

Word count: 2820

Part 1 Part 5 Part 7

The dress is the single fanciest thing you’ve ever worn in your life, and maybe the most expensive, too. Considering the cost of ODM gear, that’s saying something. It’s a pale pink, the skirt and bodice are mostly constructed of a material Zeke calls ‘silk.’ The process of making it apparently involves worms, but you wonder if you’re misunderstanding, and decide to look into it later. There’s a lovely lace overlay on the sleeves and parts of the bodice as well, and it’s wispy and delicate. Ribbon accents and flowery additions make the whole construction look like more of an art piece than something to wear, but Zeke assures it’s a perfectly normal, acceptable dress for an event such as this.

It falls above your ankles, and you have matching shoes a shade or two darker, with the barest hint of heel to give you a lift. That difference makes you nervous, but you walk in them for your brother, and he nods confidently, and say’s you’ll be fine.

“Why is there so much of it?” you ask as he laces you into a corset. It’s a comfortable one, Zeke assures you, the most comfortable one he could find. And since you’re still working on gaining weight, there isn’t much to pull in and shape, as it were. 

You also don’t understand the need for a skirt under your skirt, but it helps the dress stay flared out around your legs, so that’s something. It’s interesting to watch the flowy material move with you. 

“I’m not so good with hair and makeup, sweetheart. Sorry about that.” Your hair is pinned up, but there are none of the flourishes you’ve seen on some of the upper class women the few times you’ve been out. Not that it bothers you; this is already more than you’re comfortable with.

A hint of blush and lipstick are all you put on your face, but Zeke says, “You’re pretty enough without anything, anyway. I just want you to be comfortable.”

You think you’re done, but he grabs your forearm (which is covered in a long, pale glove), and turns you around. Zeke hushes you when you start to ask, “Wha—”

A cool weight settles on your chest, and you look down to find a pearl pendant set in gold. You touch it, feeling the shape of it through the material of the glove.

“There. Now you’re ready.” He stares down at you with something fond and pointed in his expression, something like avarice, though that doesn’t seem quite right. “It’s a shame to have to add this.”

“This” is the armband, for which you proffer your arm. 

Zeke has on a dress uniform. It’s strange enough to see him outfitted so formally, since at home he’s in a button-up and trousers at most. It’s stranger still to see the ribbons and badges of his achievements written across his chest. You often forget your brother is a high ranking member of this country’s military.

“Are you ready, Miss Yeager?”

“Yes, sir.” 

He takes your arm and escorts you out.

You— or, rather, the Warriors— have been allotted a vehicle for the event. It’s a large enough automobile for you and Zeke to fit comfortably, but you can’t imagine how you’ll all make it work.

“They’re already waiting for us, sweetheart.”

You turn to him inquisitively.

“Four passengers and a driver are about all a vehicle like this can carry, so I had them arrive first.

It’s your first time in one of these contraptions, and there’s a roil of nerves in your stomach. Zeke lays a large palm over your knee and rubs his thumbs in small circles to sooth you. When your stomach twists, you must make a face, because he chuckles dryly.

“Figures you would get motion sickness.”

“But I’ve ridden horses dozens of times.”

He smirks. “That’s not quite the same thing. Don’t worry; it’s perfectly normal. And you’ll feel better once we get there.”

It’s a thankfully short ride. Zeke gets out first, after thanking the driver, and assists you out and up. There are few people mingling outdoors, but one or two greet Zeke genially enough. The others are dismissive as soon as they catch sight of the red bands that denote your Eldian blood.

Pieck rushes over as soon as you step inside. Her long hair is back in a neat bun, and her uniform is a little different from Zeke’s, but she looks somehow more authoritative in it despite her diminutive build.

“Oh, just look at you,” she gushes, taking your hand and having you spin to show off your dress. “You look so pretty. A proper young lady, and everything. Pock is gonna have trouble staying grumpy with you around.”

Your brother hones in at the mention of the younger Warrior. “Why would her presence change his mood?”

“You know how he is around pretty girls.” She waves dismissively.  

“Hm.” Zeke steps up to you and lays a hand against your lower back. “Well, he’d better not try anything.”

Your brother guides you further into the large, open room. When someone in generic black and white attire proffers a platter filled with tall glass stemware, Zeke plucks off two and hands one to you. 

“What’s this?” Little bubbles pop and fizz in the pale gold liquid, and it looks like nothing you’ve ever had before.

He smiles. “Sparkling wine. You’ll like it.”

“Alcohol?” You haven’t had much in the past; you’re too young to have had much exposure, and what you’ve managed to try has tasted like piss (so others insisted). You carefully sip from the flute, and the taste is light, refreshing, but sharp. It’s effervescent and sweet, and your tongue tingles from the way it dances on its way down. You swallow another mouthful, and decide that it’s good.

“Don’t drink it all at once, especially before you eat anything,” Zeke warns genially. 

He takes your arm again, steering you through the room as he makes his rounds. “That’s an ambassador from a country in the west. I haven’t met him personally, but I’ve seen his picture in the papers. And that young woman with him is the youngest daughter of the vice chancellor. Oh, that—”

You nod along, but much of the information goes over your head. To your understanding, this is a dinner to show off assets of the Marleyan government to foreign dignitaries. That’s why your brother and the other Warriors are here; the Titans are an intrinsic part of their military might. 

“And this, of course, is Commander Theo Magath.” Zeke brings you to a halt adjacent to a small cluster of important looking older men.

Magath is a man of average height and build, with short dark hair and pale eyes. He turns to Zeke, glancing over you and your brother before greeting, “Chief Yeager.” He nods to Zeke, then says, “And Miss Yeager, it’s good to meet you while you’re awake.”

You frown, which makes Zeke chuckle. “The commander saw you when I brought you off the ship, sweetheart. You were dead asleep in my arms.”

“Oh. Um, well, nice to meet you, sir.” It’s a rote greeting, because you’re blushing and unsure of how to handle this situation.

This is the man who commands your brother and the other Marleyan Warriors. He’s the one who sent Reiner, Annie, and Bertholdt to the Walls. He’s a man capable of evaluating young children on whether they should someday die before they’ve had a chance to live. 

He’s also of the same rank as Commander Smith, and he carries his rank in his bearing just like the commander of the scouts, regardless of his smaller stature.

The low ranking soldier instilled through years of training wants to snap into a military mindset, but you’re wary and uncertain, and so you try to keep as neutral as possible.

The old man studies you with a keenness honed through years of practice. “You look well, Miss Yeager. Zeke has been taking care of you, then?”

“Yes, sir,” you respond. “He’s been very good to me.”

Theo Magath nods thoughtfully, then touches your arm above the red band. “You seem to be less undersized than when I saw you last. You must be drinking your milk.”

“I don’t let her skip meals,”Zeke interjects before you think of a reply. It’s strange to feel the touch of someone else, and you’d have thought a Marleyan would be opposed to this interaction with an Eldian. “And I try to make sure she has all the food groups represented.”

“Do you have a family, commander?”

“I’ve always been too busy with my duties,” he says, unperturbed by the personal question. He turns back to Zeke. “Have you met the ambassador from Sava?”

“Can’t say that I have,” your brother responds, and the commander directs his attention to a darker skinned man in a crisp tuxedo.

He’s introduced to Zeke, and you listen to the men for a moment. The Savan ambassador has a lovely accent, and you think you could listen to it all night.

Alas, a familiar figure appears at your elbow and plucks the empty flute from your fingers.

“You should eat something.”

You don’t look at him as you mutter, “Leave me alone, Reiner.”

“Come on, let me take you to find food,” he says, as though  you’re not trying to ignore him. “Zeke.”

Your brother pardons himself to direct his attention to you and the other Warrior. “Good evening, Reiner.”

“I want to take Faye to get something to eat.” The teen indicates your emptied glass. “I don’t think she should be drinking on an empty stomach.”

“That’s mighty thoughtful of you. What do you think, sweetheart?”

You sigh.

“Oh, come now, honey. Reiner is being a gentleman. Go with him for a bit, eh?”

“Fine.” He cups your cheek and favors you with a smile, then hands you off to the junior Warrior.

“So,” Reiner begins as you round a corner toward a long table. It’s filled with foodstuffs, a good half of which are completely unrecognizable to you. 

Your mouth waters as the scents permeate your nose, but you wish you weren’t here with the large blond at your side. “Don’t,” you warn.

He scowls at you and redirects the both of you toward a little area sectioned off by elegant curtains. “What’s your deal?” he demands.

“What do you mean, what’s my deal?” you mock. “You’re a traitor. You betrayed me and the other scouts.”

“No. I was a Warrior first. I was doing my duty.” 

You want to chew your lower lip, but remember the lipstick just in time. “I don’t care.”

“If you don’t care, then why are you so angry?”

“I didn’t say I don’t care about your betrayal, I said I don’t care about you and your stupid Warriors.” Each word is a spat of venom. “Now, please just leave me alone.”

His brows twitch as though unsure of whether to frown or not. “I care about you. I’m worried.”

“That.” You point in his face. “That’s what I mean. Don’t do that.”

“Don’t care about you? That’s a bit hard, especially when Zeke is practically throwing everything in our faces every chance he gets.”

You scoff. “You’re imagining things.”

“Am I?” He pushes in closer, and you can feel his hot breath, smell the wine on it. “You forget that I saw what happened. I know what he did to you.”

“You don’t know anything.”

Reiner tilts your head up, fingers tightening when you try to pull away. “I know you wouldn’t have had sex with him if you’d known who he was.”

“So?” you retort. “Now, I know. You don’t need to keep bringing that up.”

“He knew the whole time, remember? But he still did it.”

You try to push past him, but Reiner is unshakeable as a mountain. His grip doesn’t even waver on your jaw. 

“And the way he’s been acting, I feel like it’s not over.”

You swallow down the wave of terror his words send lancing to your gut. “Don’t be ridiculous,” you murmur, but your denial feels weak as it leaves your tongue.

“He is, isn’t he?” Reiner’s thumb strokes as though to make up for his cruel grasp. “I can help you. I’ll speak to Magath or—”

“Don’t.” Your eyes close against a deluge of heat welling at the corners. “Don’t you dare.” You draw a ragged breath. “Please, Reiner. Just leave it alone.”

His gaze bores into you from so close, and you can feel how it seeks to strip you down despite how your own is closed off and hidden. “He shouldn’t be doing this. You know that, right?”

“He’s my brother,” you entreat. “He’s the only person I have. Please, don’t take that away from me because of your own fears.”

He sighs and steps back, his hand dropping from your face. “Okay. But if you ever change your mind…”

He sounds so defeated. Your eyes bat open and you watch him turn toward the party. “Are you ready to go grab some grub?”

“Sure.” You take his arm and let him lead you back to the long table.

There are small plates of white ceramic on either side. Reiner hands you one and keeps one for himself. He explains what everything is as you reuse the food, what he knows, anyway. There are piles of olives, platters of cheese, little sticks with slices of meat and vegetables held together. There are figs, slices of ruby citrus that glitter like gems, and crackers and breads in neat stacks. You didn’t know there were so many varieties of finger foods, of fillings for sandwiches, or fruit or meat or…

“Now, who is this lovely young lady?”

You turn toward the sound of an unfamiliar voice. It’s dignified and smooth, and fits the person it belongs to perfectly. He’s average height, slim, with long blond hair falling like a curtain, and a neatly trimmed goatee.

Reiner stiffens, and lays a hand on your arm protectively. “Lord Tybur. This is Zeke’s Yeager’s younger sister.” He gives your name almost hesitantly, then adds, “This is William Tybur.” 

The name means nothing to you, but the man is surveying your form with interest written in his clear blue eyes. “I’d thought I could recognize most of the honorary Marleyans by sight, but I don’t believe we’ve ever met.”

“No, sir,” you murmur, but you feel so uncomfortable at the title, because you’ve never interacted with nobility. Are you supposed to call him ‘lord’ or something? 

Your uncertainty must show, because he chuckles kindly and extends his hand. “Willy is fine, my dear. While I am an Eldian noble, as an honorary Marleyan, you may overlook the title if you wish.”

Your cheeks flush hotly. “Oh, I’m so sorry. I didn’t realize—” Your eyes dart to the lack of an armband. “I’m not— I didn’t—”

His expression becomes thoughtful. “You don’t know the Tybur family at all? How unusual. How exactly did that come about?”

“I’m not from here,” you say softly. You’re allowed to talk about this, right? It’s known that Zeke recently traveled to the island, and he never told you you shouldn’t talk about it. “I didn’t know Zeke, either.”

“Ah. A Paradis Eldian. I hadn’t known anyone returned with the Warriors. We must talk sometime, you and I, on affairs within the Walls.” You nod nervously, agreeing just because you don’t know what else to do. “The Tybur family chose to side with Marley, you see, so we’ve been granted certain rights and privileges. I’m sure the two of us could have some fruitful conversations, since my family has been separated from the nobility for a century.”

“I don’t know much about that kind of thing. I’m just a peasant,” you admit, but he smiles.

“I daresay you know more than I do at this point.” He glances at Reinert, who is watching the exchange with keen eyes and a suspicious nature. “Are the two of you an item, then?”

You answer before Reiner opens his mouth, a vehement statement. “No. Reiner just offered to escort me to the food.”

“We met while I was there,” Reiner adds. “We’re close.”

“Not particularly.” You shoot a glare at him.

“If that’s the case, perhaps I could escort you for a bit,” Willy Tybur suggests.

It’s then your brother reappears. “I believe that’s my job, Lord Tybur.” His voice is cool, but not enough to be considered rude. “Thank you for making sure she got food, Reiner.” The younger man nods and steps back for Zeke to take your arm in his. “Come on, sweetheart.”

“Oh, okay.” You nod to Reiner and murmur, “Nice to meet you, Lord Tybur— Willy,” blushing as you fumble.

“You as well. Chief Yeager, Braun, I’m sure I’ll see you both again soon.”

[mytruthandbeauty]

3 June 2023

All that I’ve written until now has been praise for Mexico and rightly so, because I do love the country and it has so much to offer. However, in all honesty to present a balanced picture I should take some time to point out what I consider to be some of the country’s flaws.

This is not going to be an exhaustive list as I’m speaking from personal experience only for example I have no experience with nor do I know anyone who has an experience with any of the cartels so I can’t speak in an educated way on what they are all about. Now on to that which I have had first hand experience.

I haven’t tried to get a temporary residency visa, but I have read several articles both official and anecdotal and I’ve watched different YouTubers sharing their knowledge on the subject along with immigration specialists and I’ve determined from this that I don’t have nearly enough income to qualify for the visa. This is a problem for me, because I would prefer to be a legal immigrant here to be able to come and go as I please as well as use the public healthcare system if I ever needed it. And as I’ve stated above I love Mexico and want to remain. I don’t want to do repeated border runs indefinitely and who knows how long immigrations would allow me to do that. I think that there should be a separate visa for retirees with a lower income standard, because if you’re not working you don’t have certain expenses related to working outside the home. And I’ve shown in my life that I can comfortably live here on a monthly income much less than what the visa standard is. I’ve done it for more than 2.5 years. So, I’m not happy with the immigration laws.

Another thing about Mexico I don’t like is the noise. Depending on where you live it could be roosters crowing at all hours, dogs barking incessantly, the propane gas delivery man passing by his truck emitting this little jingle repeatedly or the worse is the insanely loud music blasting from speakers from the bars or clubs. Honestly, I am not bothered by any of these with the exception of the overbearing music from the bars, because not only are they unreasonably loud but they typically start late evening and go on until the almost dawn every day of the week.

Something else that I don’t like about Mexico is the cat-calling, the guys who think it’s okay to grope you and those who try to pick you up while asking for sex. It can be very tiresome.

I do wish that the tap water was drinkable, but it’s not and I don’t use it to cook either. Some say you can use it to brush your teeth just don’t swallow it, but I don’t do that either. Fortunately you can have the large 20 liter bottles delivered to your home for a small cost of about $2.00 USD.

And finally from what I can see recycling doesn’t seem to be a priority here, at least not in Puerto Vallarta. In light of the climate catastrophe I think that is something everyone should be taking seriously including governments on all levels, but that some Mexican governmental agencies aren’t is tragic and criminal. Don’t get me wrong, I love living in Mexico and I’m very happy I moved here, but I simply wanted to point out these things that I wish were better. I don’t believe there is a perfect country anywhere, for that to happen it would have to be uninhabited by humans, because humans seem to take pleasure in fucking up even the best of places. Still there are some places they have ruined less then others and for me Mexico is one of the less spoiled ones.

A quiet moment on the bank of the Rio Cuale in Centro.

[nickgerlich]

Losing Your Cool

The bigger they are, the harder they fall.This is one of the greatest truths, especially in business. Being big is no guarantee of your continued success. If anything, it means you have a big X on your back, with willing upstart competitors as well as larger ones all trying to figure out what to do if you should blink.

And that is exactly what happened to Nike, the footwear and athleisure company that has completely lost its cool. For many years, they could do no wrong, inking deals with superstar athletes and watching customers line up to hand over their money every time they launched something new.

It’s just that their now ex-CEO John Donahue made the company-crushing decision to produce retro Air Jordans, and completely miss a huge market trend. Trail running is big right now. Ask me. I know, and I see hordes of people enjoying it when I am plying the trails in Palo Duro Canyon. Air Jordans don’t cut it.

That was precisely the opening that brands like Hoka and On needed. They are crushing it right now, dominating the $150-$160 price point. Other long-tail competitors are also cashing in, like Altra, Salomon, La Sportiva, and others that few have even heard of. Go to any running store or REI, and you’ll see what I mean. You also won’t see Nike. They missed this train completely.

The old CEO is out, a failed and rare move by the company to hire an outsider for the role in 2020. In addition to missing a trend, he pulled back on the retail scene, focusing more on DTC—Direct To Consumer—efforts. The new CEO—insider Elliott Hill—has his hands full. Once a brand is tarnished, it is hard to regain the cool factor. Their stock price plummeted more than 20% one day this summer. Can anyone say “fell off a cliff?”

I know. Crocs came back, and is enjoying a second life right now. I can’t explain that one. They are a casual wear shoe, though, not at all performance-oriented. I think I would much rather wear Dutch wooden shoes, but to each their own.

Somehow Nike navigated the choppy waters following the Colin Kaepernick controversy in 2016. The company stood by him, and in 2018 its stock price hit record levels. I suppose that controversy and missing trends are two very different things, though.

But how could a CEO and company be so blind and tone deaf as to miss what people were doing with their spare time? Never mind that the company is located in Oregon, in a part of the country where outdoor activities are a big part of the lifestyle.

While I am not privy to cost data, I suspect the margins on specialty footwear are huge. The overwhelming majority are manufactured in southeast Asia, with New Balance being the only brand I can think of that runs the other direction. In shoes that have at least 70% of the materials from the US, they proudly proclaim they are “Made in the USA.” My Hokas and Ons are both made in Vietnam.

I’m not sure that matters to many people, though. I am looking for quality footwear, and it doesn’t matter to me where it is manufactured. In this activity, what you have on your feet is the most important thing, and I know for a fact that price is being used as a proxy for quality in some regards. Running shorts and shirts are cheap by comparison.

The sales reps I speak to at REI all tell me the same thing: Hokas, Ons, and the like will last 300-500 miles. Generally speaking, I will run them a little longer. The tread wears down, and the sole breaks down. You can begin to feel when it is time. I’m going to retire my second pair of Hokas at the end of this week with 600 miles on them.

Yet missing from this conversation is Nike, now the barefoot gorilla in the living room. How can a company lose its cool so fast? Can they do a 180 and come up with competitive trail runner shoes? Or have they simply given too much market space to Hoka, On, et al., to even have a chance in this sector?

Once again, the consumers have spoken, and someone wasn’t listening. That’s not cool, and it is not a good look for Nike falling as hard as they have.

Dr “Time To Lace Up” Gerlich

Audio Blog

[its-miqd]

The Fables of Mtaz

You know, I heard, (taking another swig of Pilyan ale,) that when the Water Bearer first came to the Council he was riding a horse made of stars.

That sounds more impractical than anything.

Well, it happened! Mtaz said it like that, anyway, and you know how Mtaz is.

It’s true. I know Mtaz, and how Mtaz is. Are you going to finish that bowl of stew?

Uh… probably not.

I love you too.

Anyway, as I was saying! The Water Bearer of An-Aras was up in the sky,

Why was he up in the sky?

Questions at the end please. (Taking another swig of Pilyan ale.) and as I was saying, he met a great horse there, and the horse was all the constellations we don’t see any more. He threw the horse down from the sky and leapt down onto it, (they called him the first meteorite,) and when he showed up in the Council building they were all blinded by its –

Like, literally blinded, or metaphorically?

He knows the ways of the South, you know.

Everyone knows that part.

You don’t know it like Mtaz knows it. I’m not talking about Pilyu, either. I’m talking beyond the sea.

That’s impossible.

It’s not impossible. You know how the Pilyans are with water.

They don’t fear it like they obviously should? I mean, it’s terrifying! And so blue!

Very blue. But sometimes they just go. And then, by all accounts, they get to the other side, and immediately turn back.

So there’s nothing there?

No, but it’s generally agreed that what is there is “a terrible shithole where you will die a lot.”

Oh.

Hm.

So how come Rejot, then? You were saying he’s from there?

A different kind of there. They find passages, favourable winds, and slip through the places that suck. In these southern waters, they pass great ships of metal, the size of greater mountains; so much so that they cannot possibly notice the little Miqdai boats –

Is it still blue?

It’s still blue.

This is making me queasy.

I’m getting there. Along the bottom of the world, there is a silent country, which they pass by. They turn, turn to the side before they reach the ends of the earth, and then there are more people than you could ever imagine.

You can get lost as much as you like, there, so it draws all kinds of lost people. They bring a few treasures of Miqd, bargain them away for a life and the absence of questions. And then they melt into the crowd, and are no longer concerned with matters of the self.

But –

But Rejot, he came back.

…

…

…Did Mtaz tell you this?

Mtaz? No. This I learned myself.

Then how do you know it’s true?

I just know.

Why did he come back?

I don’t know.

(It hurt to see things as they are, thinks Rejot, somewhere far from here. She is cruel to make them face the truth –)

Tell me a Mtaz story again.

You didn’t like mine?

It wasn’t true like Mtaz tells it.

But it is true!

That’s not the point. It’s not as true when you’re the one talking.

Wow.

Wowwwwwwwwwwwww.

I am truly insulted. Surely, my honour can only be restored with a duel. To the gates of Y-Kemir we go.

:3

How did you do that with your mou –

---

When the captain talked –

(we remember Mtaz telling us, and when Mtaz says so, you just know that’s how it was –)

– the scar on the side of his face moved up and down, up and down. Rejot had been watching it for a while now, and had become a little hypnotised… and so, the realisations, when they came, came three at once like a breaking dam.

1) He, Rejot, was speaking Miqdai, which for years he had not done outside his dreams, and the shock of the realisation almost surprised him into forgetting it all again.

2) This man was offering – in Miqdai, the silent tongue of the ashamed – to take him home. There would be a price, of course, a heavy price. But it was nothing, no cost could outweigh the reward. The shores of Miqd, that had been lost to him forever –

The third thing he realised, and the most surprising of all, was that the door had swung open behind him. He registered this from a sudden breeze, though the wind of a Haravenian summer brought little relief from the heat. Then, the look of recognition that flickered across the captain’s face, and – in almost the same instant – the gunshot, precise, that cut the air and gave way to a different kind of silence.

The door clicked shut again.

Later, Rejot would regret not chasing the shooter, no matter how painful the consequences; in that moment, though, he only had one desperate thought – pressing now-bloody hands to the wound, whispering “please,” again and again, like the prayer meant a thing on these iimiqa shores.

Please. You have to take me home.

His hope, though pure, was not enough.

---

Months later:

Rejot, who carried no water and rode no horse of fire or sinew, weaved through the Whitrovia streets.

The crowds spilled out in all directions like an opening suitcase, but he passed through them with ghostlike ease. This effortless motion was what it meant to be home, to understand the ways of the city. He always wished he wasn’t so good at it.

Five years to the day, according to the calendar of these lands. All the same, he wished he knew how long the strange, unwieldy Miqdil calendar would make it; he’d stopped keeping one years ago, all to make himself fit in to his new home, and it had worked – how well had it worked!

A couple minutes away from his construction job now – there was always work in construction, skyscrapers blooming once a week in the city that never shut up. Perhaps it was because the rest of the crowd was one big mass of tourists, craning their necks to look up at nothing important, that his eye alighted on one familiar face, keeping its head down, trying to look inconspicuous and failing precisely because it was succeeding:

Huh, said some synapse in Rejot’s head. That can’t be right.

He didn’t register it at all. It was simply impossible;

the scar on his face, even. Identical. The captain.

---

See, that’s more like it. Mtaz even does the face.

I hate you so much. (No I don’t.) But that’s not how it happened!

Sure it is. Your story was probably stupid.

Hmm. Maybe. That’s something I’ve been thinking about, actually. When is a lie not a lie?

When it’s the truth.

Pretty much, yeah. But it’s still a lie –

Is Mtaz telling it?

Sometimes.

So that’s okay.

You know, sometimes I don’t think you’re listening at all.

Mtaz! Mtaz! Mtaz! Mtaz!

---

Rejot knew where the doors were.

The city was an unfinished maze – oh, to those above, it looked complete. But working in its digestive system, as Rejot did? You saw the halls of least regard, where no-one had walked since they’d been hollowed out of the earth. A little way underground; a street of vacant shops, a parking lot or disused basement, all piled over and forgotten to the world.

The Water Bearer had learned their ways long before he would come to know the Council’s, so it was into one of these halls that he had dragged the Conspicuous Man, gave a little grunt of effort as he slammed the little door shut, and then relaxed. Even looking directly at it, as much of the crowd had, they would forget about this sudden act of violence – this glimpse into a city not their own – and go back to watching the birdless sky. It simply wouldn’t register to them. Some places were illusionary by nature, no matter how real; hard to notice and easy to forget.

The Conspicuous Man was sputtering – Rejot didn’t think anyonestill sputtered, that was a word right out of history – and seemingly incapable of forming a defense, so Rejot jumped in with one. “You don’t know who I am.”

“No! You’re right! I don’t know who you are!” He paused, surprised to be agreeing with his captor. “What – where is this?”

“I’m not sure what it was built to be, but there’s a vending machine about two hundred metres down that corridor. It’s not plugged into anything, but it still works.”

“That’s not what I meant! Why did you take me here?”

“It seemed fitting. These halls are dead to anyone who doesn’t know their secret. And you; I watched you die. So what’s your secret?”

The captain (?) drew himself up to his full height, which was still a good bit shorter than Rejot, who was unusually tall but didn’t make a big deal of it. They compared heights, silently, unspoken: then, the smaller man shrunk back down a little, clearly abashed. “I… I really don’t know who you take me to be, but –”

Rejot leaned in, looked him dead in the eye, and spoke: “Yudhere Kaspana. Deghe nurrav pa lasq –”

– a flash of recognition, met with a childlike grin. “Got you!”

“Ghelbe! I promised no such thing.”

“Now that’s interesting, isn’t it?” Rejot tapped his finger against his chin in mock thought. “Just as you are about to, you are killed! It’s too precise to be a coincidence.”

The captain was attempting to open the heavy maintenance door he’d been dragged through, now, sweat on his brow and lips as he pulled at the resolutely static handle. “Oh, don’t give me that look,” Rejot said, to the man who was distinctly not looking at him (who then turned to stare, thus fulfilling the prophecy.) “These tunnels weren’t built for us to go back the way they came. You can follow me to the end, if you like. We’ve got lots of time to talk.”

The other man continued to work, then finally gave up, visibly past his limit and muttering curses in neither Haravenian nor Miqdai under his breath; he was a world traveller, after all! Then, he suddenly began walking, determined to avoid Rejot and get out as soon as possible. (Rejot, who was taller and had much longer legs, caught up with him with very little effort indeed.)

They went stride-for-stride for a while, unearthly tunnellight and the same clicking echo on floors that never gathered dust.

“I wouldn’t tell you if you weren’t so wrong,” the captain suddenly spat out;

“I know. You weren’t the captain. You shot him.”

“Then why –”

“If I’d just said it, would you have told me the truth?” An honest silence, which Rejot appreciated. “So why do you all look the same, anyway?”

“We are the same, only…”

“Only you had to kill him.”

“One was sent away. To many shores, not just these. Kept things simple. Then… we split, to be in more places than we could achieve alone.” This one suddenly looked very lonely. “Each needed a strong shard of the original self, so it would not forget. The captain… I realised, too late, was our homesickness.”

“And you couldn’t just let him go?”

“Even alone, we are one. I think the captain loved you… perhaps not in a way you would understand, but each of us felt him blossoming. It would have spread. We would have all gone home.”

“That’s still no reason to –” Rejot stopped. “No, that’s not right. It’s a reason to kill him, but I don’t like it.” He sighed, understanding a little more than he’d been told. “Was the one… is the one a Warden?”

“Less and more. But the metaphor will do.”

They were at the other end of the corridor; Rejot had been slowing down for some time, reluctant to simply emerge back into sky. “You know, I can’t get the hang of your grammar. Is there something I can call you, so I don’t have to keep saying one all the time?”

“No, please don’t –”

---

The good ship Bad Ship (Miqdai naming conventions were honest to a fault) was sailing away from the coast, at last. Rejot was smiling, though the sea was choppy and cold; he felt impossibly light, as if he’d been carrying all the skyscrapers of Haravenia on his shoulders and was finally lying them down to bed.

One passed him by, struggling a little with the weight of a goat. Rejot called out; “do you know where you’re going with that goat, sailor?” They shook their head. “Don’t worry, I’ll take it to the captain. And what did I name you again?”

“I don’t remember, but thanks for giving me one!”

“Go find it in the ship’s logbook. It’ll be good to remember.”

Naming them… had been good for them, he was pretty sure. It made them more themselves, cut them off from some of the worst, most destructive waves of shared consciousness. Not all of them had liked the idea, at first, but they seemed generally a little happier, even if a few would occasionally spend five minutes walking in circles or hanging upside down in the engine room – obviously, some quirks needed to be worked out, but didn’t everyone have some of those?

And they were creatures of habit, happy to help him home as long as he gave them something interesting to do. At this point, he didn’t care what he’d have to do to get home. Every night, he woke up three, four times, gasping for another dream-breath of Miqdai air; the pollution and heat and dust of the south was leaving him, now, but he couldn’t shake it yet, he was sure it’d slough off in the northern wind –

The helm, now, where the captain had little to do, at the controls of a modern, efficient fishing boat (to which the dead captain had simply left the keys where all the other ones would find them,) but was doing it very intensely indeed.

“You can relax, Girgan,” the passenger remarked, though he hardly expected agreement.

His one-time temporary captive, the first among equals, who had shown him how all his kin were embedded in quiet places within the south (for a translator or a bartender could learn so much more than a politician), did not turn around. “Why are you carrying that goat.”

“I thought it might help you relax.”

“Put it with the others, please. And before you ask, the smell is extremely distinctive.”

“Alright, I’ll head to the pens next.” The ones who had chosen to come home had all insisted on taking something back with them. Some were obviously useful to Miqd – a copy of Advanced Modern Engineering for Stupid People, a microscope, a really good sandwich recipe – others far less justifiable. But he couldn’t argue. He had a sense that if he had disagreed with the one, they would have all scurried away for good. But still, you aren’t lonely up here?”

“Yes. That’s why I’m up here. I helped you find the others, and you promised to leave me mostly alone.”

“And I couldn’t ask for a better identical crew.” The goat baaed in apparent agreement, under his arm, and he suddenly felt a little sentimental. “And Girgan? Thanks for taking me home.”

“Mm.”

That was probably the best he was going to get out of Girgan, so he left the captain’s office, somehow picked up another goat along the way, and dreamed of milk and tall summer grasses.

Just past Pulunadu, he went up into the sky, and tamed a horse made of stars.

He had to make a proper entrance, after all.

[blackleopardgirl]

The summer season is approaching- but at what cost?

  I knew that this was going to be a very long summer, but lord have mercy it has started already and I already feel the cringe. I just don’t understand the need to always either be heavily* inspired, or to just straight up copy from other cultures, yet you hate them simultaneously. Make it make sense, and I know that the two crowds aren’t always the same. The same crowd that loves the black-brown music isn’t exactly the same crowd that are the “We need to bring Enver Hôxha back!1!1” they are different crowds that sometimes, overlap, it’s just nuts that they all coexist seamlessly together. I guess there isn’t that much to argue and disagree about, because it is just music, and at the end of the day if you don’t like a song, or genre of music, then just don’t listen to it and listen to what you like, but it’s crazy how much the far right crowd over there HATES the idea of even seeing large amounts of black and brown people in their country, yet they’ll eat up N0izy making a dancehall record. 

  Why don’t they get mad at T@yna, or N0izy or Dhur@ta for making Afrobeats/Reggae inspired songs then? Because you’re sending a message whether you want to admit it or not, that you embrace and enjoy the cultures that were created by these black-brown people that you so desperately hate and do not want in your country. (I also understand that many don’t mind TOURISM, and they don’t care if someone who’s another race comes to their countries for TOURIST purposes, or historical/cultural purposes. They’re very full of themselves in that way, but they would hate the mere thought of someone living there, and of course marrying into their culture and creating kids with their people.) 

  Sometimes the way they move shocks and confuses me, but then again, this is how lots of other groups of white people in Europe are. I cant really fault them too much, genres like Dembow, Reggae, Reggaeton, Brazilian funk, Salsa, Bachata, Afrobeats and others are very catchy, are clearly very popular in western Europe and receive a lot of traction on apps like Tik Tok, where its easier to discover music that you’re not used to. This is obviously why they’re late to the party, but still fascinated by this music. I also want to add that I’ve noticed that they don’t really create or play black and brown music that often, even rap isn’t by Americans isn’t played that much, they pretty much play Alb@nian versions of any genre, and then traditional music. That’s it, they tend to be satisfied with the music they’re used to. This is also why when they do make their own versions of this music, it sucks. T@yna’s ‘Caliente’ comes to mind; that song sucks and I’m not just saying that because I’m critical of her, I’m saying that because the song- as a Latin-reggae club song sounds bad. I know what the main notes of the song are, but the song doesn’t even hold a candle to actual Latino-Caribbean music. The lyrics are cringe and its all over the place, and I notice this a lot actually with a lot of their summer songs that are Caribbean, afro beats, reggae/reggaeton inspired, they’re always these cheap beats with lazy writing over them and no type of vocal sound that sounds good. 

  Which is why it’s always important to remember that these songs aren’t really meant to sound good, they’re meant to be like McDonalds- cheap, fast, and accessible to audiences. These songs aren’t ever going to have a quality beat, with layering, paired with good lyrics and vocals, which are most songs from black and brown genres of music that they love so much. 

[stayathomesurveys]

170.

Do you prefer bar or liquid soap? Liquid. What's the speed limit on your street? ... I have no idea, lol. When was the last time you wore your favourite article of clothing? No idea what that would even be. Do any of your family members have an upcoming birthday? My brother in law, in November. What is your favourite flavour of Jolly Ranchers? Blue raspberry. Where was your Facebook profile picture taken? At my old job. Do your parents smoke? Yes. Would you rather bake cookies or a potato? Cookies.

Who was the last person to stay the night at your house? My brother’s ex girlfriend. Do you live close to a park? No. Have you eaten pizza in the last week? Yes. Who was the last person you added to your contacts list? My hairstylist. How long does it take you to shower? Depends. Anywhere from 10-45 minutes. Do you know anyone who has moved to a different state? Yes. How many pens can you see from where you’re sitting? None. Have you ever dated someone one grade/year above or below you? Yeah. Do you still have a landline phone at your house? I think so. I never hear it ring or see my parents use it, though. How big is the television you last watched? No idea. Have you ever been stung by a bee or a wasp? Yeah. How many schools have you been to in your lifetime? 9? What is the middle name of the last person you texted? I think it’s Anthony. Are you of legal age in your country? Yeah. Why did you last visit a doctor? Check up. Would you prefer an ice cream cake or a regular cake? Ice cream cake :) How old is your best friend? I don’t have any friends. What is/was your high school’s mascot? Tigers and Eagles. Do you carry pain relievers with you at all times? Usually. Where is your mother right now? On the couch, in the living room. What was the last thing to make you smile? :-) Are you currently saving up for anything? No. What’s the view like from your bedroom window? Front yard. Generally speaking, do you prefer sweet or savoury? Sweet! When did you last go outside, and what for? To put outgoing mail in the mailbox. Who is your favourite Sesame Street character? I didn’t really watch Sesame Street, but I guess Elmo. How often do you check your emails? Multiple times a day, everyday. Do you have any plans for this Thanksgiving? No. What colour is your backpack? I have 2 pink ones and a mint green one. Would you slap the last person you talked to for twenty dollars? Sure, I could use the money and he’d let me haha. What search engine do you usually use? Google. How much did the shirt you’re wearing cost? No idea.

[survey--s]

534.

Do you prefer bar or liquid soap? Liquid, for sure. I hate the feeling/texture of bar soap.

What's the speed limit on your street? 20mph, but it’s normally impossible to even go that fast.

When was the last time you wore your favourite article of clothing? Yesterday.

Do any of your family members have an upcoming birthday? Yeah, my dad’s birthday is in about ten days.

On a scale of 1-5, 5 being the best, rate your last kiss. A three, maybe?

What is your favourite flavour of Jolly Ranchers? I’ve never had those.

Where was your Facebook profile picture taken? At home.

Do your parents smoke? Neither of them do.

Would you rather bake cookies or a potato? Cookies.

Who was the last person to stay the night at your house? Nobody ever sleeps over here.

Do you live close to a park? Yeah, there’s one about ten minutes away.

Is your favourite animal endangered? Yeah, tigers are.

Have you eaten pizza in the last week? Yeah, I had a roasted vegetable pizza on Saturday.

Who was the last person you added to your contacts list? An unknown number so I could look them up on WhatsApp.

How long does it take you to shower? Five minutes. I hate actually being in the shower but I love the feeling of being clean so I just get it over and done with.

Do you prefer a brand of bottled water over others, or is it all the same? I don’t drink bottled water.

Have you used Wikipedia today? Yeah.

Are you better at writing fiction or non-fiction? Fiction, for sure.

Do you know anyone who has moved to a different state? Yeah, I don’t know many people who haven’t lol.

How many pens can you see from where you’re sitting? Zero.

Have you ever dated someone one grade/year above or below you? Of course.

What language do you think you’d be good at? Italian. What language do you think you’d fail at? Any language with symbols lol.

Do you still have a landline phone at your house? No.

What is your current desktop background? Just an outer space image I got off Google.

How big is the television you last watched? It’s about 42″ I think.

Have you ever been stung by a bee or a wasp? Yeah.

How many schools have you been to in your lifetime? Two schools, and two universities.

What is the middle name of the last person you texted? He doesn’t have a middle name.

Are you of legal age in your country? Yes.

Why did you last visit a doctor? To get a sick note for work.

Would you prefer an ice cream cake or a regular cake? Regular cake.

How old is your best friend? 38.

What is/was your high school’s mascot? Schools in the UK don’t really have mascots.

Do you carry pain relievers with you at all times? Not on my person, but I always have some in the car.

Where is your mother right now? I assume she’s at home as she’s showing as online on Messenger.

What was the last thing to make you smile? Toby and Archie giving each other kisses lol.

Are you currently saving up for anything? Nothing specific, no - more just general “life” stuff.

What’s the view like from your bedroom window? Boring. It’s just the front street and the row of houses opposite.

Generally speaking, do you prefer sweet or savoury? Savoury.

What would you do if you got home and you saw your house had been destroyed? Panic? lol.

When did you last go outside, and what for? I went to fill my car up and grab an iced coffee.

Who is your favourite Sesame Street character? I never watched Sesame Street growing up really.

How often do you check your emails? Whenever I see that I have a new one.

Do you have any plans for this Thanksgiving? We don’t celebrate Thanksgiving here.

What colour is your backpack? The bag I use the most is black.

Would you slap the last person you talked to for twenty dollars? Hahaha yes. 

What search engine do you usually use? Google.

How much did the shirt you’re wearing cost? About £4.

Patrick Stump or Pete Wentz? Neither.

Do you know anyone who gives way too many hugs? No.

What time do you usually wake up on Sundays? Around 8-9am.

Have you whispered today? No.

What grade did you get on the last test you took? Christ knows, I haven’t taken any kind of test in years.