#for what ended up being my proper angle of entry like oh that means a funny little villain then? (yes) like boy is that a banger alone

[unproduciblesmackdown]

maybe bsol is that time jen tepper mentions when she was so upset about a review of a show of joe's that she broke a glass (&/or threw it out a window)

[eternalowl]

Eternals incorrect quotes part 2

Kingo: That was a joke. Say “ha”

Sprite: Ha.

Kingo: Now say it again.

Sprite: Ha.

Kingo: Congratulations, you’re officially the life of the party.

Kingo: What goes up but doesn’t go down?

Phastos: The amount of stress you bring this family.

Gilgamesh: …Should I ask why you’re covered in blood?

Thena: No, and the better question would be “Who’s blood is this-”

Gilgamesh: What are you in the mood for?

Thena: World domination.

Gilgamesh: That’s a bit ambitious.

Thena: You are my world.

Gilgamesh: Aww…

Thena: …

Gilgamesh: …

Thena: …

Gilgamesh: OH-

Kingo: I have an idea.

Ikaris: A good idea?

Kingo: Let's not get ahead of ourselves.

Kingo: Thena you can’t move in with Gilgamesh.

Thena: Why not?

Kingo: Well, um, how are you going to feel when he sees you without any makeup?

Thena: I’m not wearing makeup right now.

Kingo: Holy crap, you’re beautiful.

Everyone: You're alive.

Ikaris: There's no need to sound so disappointed.

Kingo: So what, now I’m just supposed to do everything that Thena does? What if she jumps off a cliff?

Druig: If Thena were to jump off a cliff, she would have done her due diligence regarding the height of the cliff, the depth of the water, and the angle of entry. So yes, if you see Thena jump off a cliff, by all means, jump off a cliff.

Kingo: You jump off a cliff.

Druig: Gladly, provided Thena did first.

Kingo: Now, if I may speak for good-looking people everywhere...

Sprite: Only as their rodeo clown.

Sersi: What makes you all smile?

Gilgamesh: Friends and Family.

Druig: Snacks.

Ikaris: Victory and success.

Thena: Face muscles.

Ajak: Damn, the power went out.

Kingo: Don’t worry, I got this.

Kingo: *shakes rapidly and starts to light up*

Ajak: What-?

Kingo: I swallowed a glow stick!

Ajak, on the verge of tears: WHY WOULD YOU-

Phastos, texting: O

Kingo: What?

Phastos: Don’t read into that.

Kingo: But I will read into that.

Phastos: HOW?! IT’S A LETTER!

Kingo: Why is there a space after it, hmmmmm?

Phastos: Dude, really?

Phastos: It’s a fucking letter.

Kingo: It could stand for something!

Phastos: IT DOESN’T, I PROMISE!

Kingo: Like Oppression! Or worse…

Phastos: Dude, I just typed the letter O, that means nothing. :/

Kingo: Optometrist.

Phastos: Oh my God…

Ikaris: You are the love of my life and I would do anything within reason to make you happy.

Sersi: I would be happy if you ate, stayed hydrated and got a reasonable amount of sleep.

Ikaris: I said within reason, Sersi. How about I murder that guy?

Sersi: So murder is in reason but proper self care isn't?

Ikaris: Well, duh. What kind of question is that?

*playing twister*

Kingo: Right hand red.

Makkari: *ends up on top of Druig*

Druig: You're doing this on purpose, aren't you?

Kingo: I stopped spinning like 15 minutes ago. Honestly, I'm surprised you didn't notice.

Sersi: What do you have?

Sprite: A KNIFE!

Sersi: NO!

Kingo: So... who's the big spoon and who's the little spoon?

Makkari: We're chopsticks!

Kingo: Well... that's cute!

Kingo: Does that mean you two snuggle together perfectly?

Druig: No, it means that if you take the other away, the only thing the other is good for is stabbing.

Sersi: Why aren't there friend pick up lines? Pick up lines to make friends like-

Sersi, to Ajak: Hey, that's a cute outfit. You know where it would look better? On nobody else, because you're a beautiful individual.

Makkari, to Druig: Be my friend or I'll set your entire family on fire.

Gilgamesh: There are two types of people.

Sprite: *fast-forwards all the way through the movie*

Kingo: You can't just skip to the happy ending!

Sprite: I don't have time for their problems.

Teacher: Your child was in a fight.

Gilgamesh: Again?

Thena: Did they win?

or

Teacher: Your child was in a fight.

Makkari: I need to talk to them about that…

Druig: Did they win?

Sersi: What situation is not instantly improved by the addition of fishnets, I ask you.

Druig: Being a fish.

Sersi: Well, shit.

Phastos: How long do you think it'll take?

Druig: I don’t know, three or four.

Phastos: Three or four what? Days? Weeks? Months?

Makkari, agreeing with Druig: Yeah, maybe five.

Phastos: Five what?!

Druig: Makkari, get that hidious thing out of the living room, would you?

Makkari: Ikaris, Druig wants you to get out of the house.

Thena: Kingo, we tried things your way.

Kingo: No, we didn't.

Thena: I did it in my head and it didn't work.

Ajak: Uptown Funk would've made it into the Shrek Soundtrack.

Kingo: That's the truest statement I've ever heard.

[stevenuniversallyreviews]

Episode 121: Rocknaldo

“I don't love that. I don't accept that.”

Ronaldo Fryman has always been annoying.

From his first speaking role in Cat Fingers, and his first starring role in Keep Beach City Weird, this has been obvious. He’s selfish and insensitive, dominating every conversation he’s a part of and refusing to respect viewpoints that differ from his. He works well in small doses, where his grating nature can be properly diluted, so it’s understandable that an entire episode of Ronaldo at peak Ronaldo is not a widely beloved entry in the Steven Universe canon. But even though I can’t stand watching Rocknaldo, I actually, uh, kind of love it.

That’s a hard “uh, kind of” though. It’s tough to separate my emotions about this one, because I respect such an incredible portrayal of toxic fandom, but I hate toxic fandom so much that I don’t enjoy spending time with it, even as parody. This isn’t an episode I’m ever in the mood for, but it’s just so good at what it’s doing that I can’t stay mad at it.

Ronaldo’s propaganda is first played for laughs, with Steven’s bewilderment at what he’s reading (“They’re adding mind-controlling minerals to our water suppl—they hate men?”) and the vaudevillian back and forth of Ronaldo’s Rock People talking points and Steven’s quick and absolute dismissals. Ronaldo’s embarrassment is a bit of a surprise considering he’s never seemed capable of such a sensation, and his willingness to admit he’s wrong seems like a good sign, but oh boy does that attitude not last.

The mindset that led Ronaldo to make his bad faith arguments in pamphlet form (which he calls Ronalphlets because heaven forbid we get the idea that it’s not about him) persists, and it’s so much worse in conversation than as printed media. It’s not enough that he impedes on Steven’s personal space, but he checks off multiple key items on the Pathetic Internet Troll I Find Useless List (or “PITIFUL” if we’re using proper jargon). He’s casually sexist. He negs Steven into accepting his intrusions. He gatekeeps the concept of being a “true” Crystal Gem, which is lousy in a bubble but so much worse in practice because he’s doing it to an actual Crystal Gem. He gaslights by stating his incorrect views as obvious facts, complete with his own lingo, to make Steven question his own validity. And perhaps worst of all, he takes advantage of Steven’s empathetic nature to pretend that a tolerant person must accept abuse.

On the one hand, Ronaldo’s extreme behavior can be chalked up to severe sleep loss; that’s certainly the angle the episode goes for. But on the other, his toxicity begins well before he decides to stop sleeping, and as someone whose record for consecutive waking hours is an inadvisable thirty-six, fatigue will make you cranky, but it won’t make you more conniving. In cartoon world it’s a clean device to up Ronaldo’s awfulness in a way we can walk back from, but ugh he’s still a trashfire. Zach Callison always deserves kudos, and Rocknaldo is no exception, but Zachary Steel wins out here for capturing such a loathsome version of his character.

A key ingredient for Rocknaldo is timing. Steven just had a terrible, horrible, no good, very bad day, and this is our first glimpse at how it’s changed him, so what better way to test our all-loving hero than to pit him against a black hole of selfishness? He’s grown a lot since Keep Beach City Weird in a way Ronaldo hasn’t, and while his instinct is still kindness, now there’s a welcome dose of teen moodiness mixed in. 

It takes a while for Steven to realize it’s a grift, but beyond this slowness being a necessity for the conflict of the episode to work, it makes sense for where he’s at this point in the show. Again, kindness is an instinct for this kid, and even when Ronaldo starts getting infuriating, we’ve seen Steven be patient with him before. He’s also got that martyr complex revved up: this isn’t the first or last time he’s been willing to suffer to make someone else comfortable. He knows how much it sucks to be called the wrong name by now, so he’s the only person who consistently calls Ronaldo “Bloodstone.” And considering Rose Quartz wasn’t what he thought, he now feels that he must double his efforts to be his best self to compensate.

Also important is Steven’s willingness to defend his friends from the start, calling the term “Rock People” offensive and defending the Gems’ decision to leave Ronaldo behind on a dangerous mission. He can take Ronaldo’s lousiness all day, but finally snaps when Connie’s worthiness is insulted. It’s sweet that he sticks up for people, but it’s a bummer that he probably would’ve put up with Ronaldo even longer if the only one suffering was himself. Steven would do anything for his friends, but he’s not doing much for Steven.

This is why Ronaldo is the ideal antagonist for an episode coming off Steven’s space adventure. Steven’s selflessness contrasts perfectly with Ronaldo’s selfishness, but instead of a story about selflessness being good and selfishness being bad, we see how selflessness isn’t all it’s cracked up to be. Yes, it’s good to care about others, but it’s also important to have boundaries and enough self-respect to defend yourself; this isn’t even the first time we’ve gotten this message, but it bears repeating. There’s are limits to tolerance that trolls will always exploit (“White Nationalists aren’t welcome here? So much for the ‘Tolerant Left!’”), and on a show about empathy we need for Steven (and the audience) to see that empathy doesn’t mean being a doormat.

Steven’s patience fuels the episode, but the wheels are greased by the Amethyst and Pearl’s disdain. It’s a minor part of Rocknaldo, but I’m not sure I could survive how grating Ronaldo is without some backup from the Gems.

Garnet may lead a slow clap at Steven’s rousing speech on the nature of acceptance, but Amethyst is happy to crack jokes at Ronaldo’s self-seriousness, down to that perfect impression near the end of the episode. Meanwhile, Pearl openly hates the guy. We don’t even get Sassy Pearl (perhaps the greatest Pearl of all), she’s just bluntly dismissive as a refreshing antidote to Steven’s hospitality. She doesn’t bother to remember his ridiculous new name because she refuses to humor the notion that he’s a Gem, and it totally works for me; misnaming is played for drama when Steven is concerned, as befits the trans allegory that comes to a head in Change Your Mind, but Ronaldo is a human belittling Steven’s identity by pretending he shares it, so “Bloodstone” isn’t worth getting right to her (it helps that “Fryrocko” is also a delightful thing to call somebody). This jokey take on names works in the moment, but more importantly primes us for a more serious take in our last scene.

The final conversation, after a rare time jump, does salvage Ronaldo somewhat. He apologizes and admits he was acting like a jerk, and remains dedicated to helping the Crystal Gems in his own weird way. But the root of his problem isn’t gonna up and go away, and that root, again, is selfishness. He doesn’t fit in because he would rather the world adjust to meet his whims than take a single step towards self-improvement, so he chooses to see himself as “the ultimate outsider.” I guess it’s nice to find a positive spin on qualities you’re not great at, but it reeks of self-importance in a way that’s true to the character but is still frustrating to watch. Ronaldo is very good at being who he is, but I just don’t have much patience for intentionally annoying characters.

Still, we get that lovely moment of Steven talking about his name; it’s not a big revelation that folks only call him Rose Quartz when they’re mad at him, but verbalizing it shows that he’s aware of the pattern. The issue of his name will pop up more and more, becoming a cornerstone of both the Season 4 and Season 5 finales, so it’s nice to discuss it in a calm moment so we can keep Steven’s opinion in the back of our minds when things get messy. Ronaldo, to his credit, asks permission before sharing this story on his pamphlet, and evokes fellow emotionally-challenged antagonist Zuko in his attempt at solidarity. (Fun fact: in no other way is Ronaldo similar to Zuko.)

Moving from Zuko to Zuke: I don’t know where Rocknaldo’s production lined up on the timeline of the Steven Universe fandom's worst elements harassing Jesse Zuke, but I hope Zuke got some level of catharsis in portraying such “fans” in this pathetic manner. Speaking as a guy with a blog, calling Ronaldo “just a guy with a blog” is perfect putdown for a loser that makes himself feel big by pretending to know how to run a ship better than the captain. Imagine if I spent every post saying how much better of a storyteller I am than this crew. Ugh.

Fandoms can do great things, but man are they pros at doing horrible things. During the week that I wrote this review, a 15-year-old Super Smash Bros player got yelled off the internet for beating an established player in an incredible fashion, because while the community adores a young upstart, they can’t stand when that upstart is a girl. And no, I’m not saying the entire fandom did it, just as the entire Steven Universe fandom didn’t target one of the show’s best boarders (note that this article was written when Zuke still went by Lauren), but there are more than enough Ronaldos in every community, and it’s up to people who comprehend the basic tenets of empathy provided by a show they claim to love to stand up to such bullies.

If you don’t like Rocknaldo, that’s just fine. Because you shouldn’t like how Ronaldo acts in it. Liking something doesn’t give you the right to harass people, so do your part in shutting that nonsense down. 

I’ve never been to this…how do you say…school?

Just give us an episode with Peridot, Yellow Pearl, Peedee, and Ronaldo trapped in a room already.

We’re the one, we’re the ONE! TWO! THREE! FOUR!

I hate watching this episode, but that doesn’t mean I hate the episode. It does its job very well, which is worthy of admiration even if I’m probably never going to watch it again now that this review is done.

Top Twenty

Steven and the Stevens

Hit the Diamond

Mirror Gem

Lion 3: Straight to Video

Alone Together

Last One Out of Beach City

The Return

Jailbreak

The Answer

Mindful Education

Sworn to the Sword

Rose’s Scabbard

Earthlings

Mr. Greg

Coach Steven

Giant Woman

Beach City Drift

Winter Forecast

Bismuth

Steven’s Dream

Love ‘em

Laser Light Cannon

Bubble Buddies

Tiger Millionaire

Lion 2: The Movie

Rose’s Room

An Indirect Kiss

Ocean Gem

Space Race

Garnet’s Universe

Warp Tour

The Test

Future Vision

On the Run

Maximum Capacity

Marble Madness

Political Power

Full Disclosure

Joy Ride

Keeping It Together

We Need to Talk

Chille Tid

Cry for Help

Keystone Motel

Catch and Release

When It Rains

Back to the Barn

Steven’s Birthday

It Could’ve Been Great

Message Received

Log Date 7 15 2

Same Old World

The New Lars

Monster Reunion

Alone at Sea

Crack the Whip

Beta

Back to the Moon

Kindergarten Kid

Buddy’s Book

Gem Harvest

Three Gems and a Baby

That Will Be All

The New Crystal Gems

Storm in the Room

Like ‘em

Gem Glow

Frybo

Arcade Mania

So Many Birthdays

Lars and the Cool Kids

Onion Trade

Steven the Sword Fighter

Beach Party

Monster Buddies

Keep Beach City Weird

Watermelon Steven

The Message

Open Book

Story for Steven

Shirt Club

Love Letters

Reformed

Rising Tides, Crashing Tides

Onion Friend

Historical Friction

Friend Ship

Nightmare Hospital

Too Far

Barn Mates

Steven Floats

Drop Beat Dad

Too Short to Ride

Restaurant Wars

Kiki’s Pizza Delivery Service

Greg the Babysitter

Gem Hunt

Steven vs. Amethyst

Bubbled

Adventures in Light Distortion

Gem Heist

The Zoo

Rocknaldo

Enh

Cheeseburger Backpack

Together Breakfast

Cat Fingers

Serious Steven

Steven’s Lion

Joking Victim

Secret Team

Say Uncle

Super Watermelon Island

Gem Drill

Know Your Fusion

Future Boy Zoltron

No Thanks!

     6. Horror Club      5. Fusion Cuisine      4. House Guest      3. Onion Gang      2. Sadie’s Song      1. Island Adventure

[amethysttribble]

Kissing in Closets

Feanorian week entry seven! LAST ONE! I chose ‘Mahtan’ for Nerdanel & Feanor.

“No offense, but I hate my father.”

“Why would I be offended about your feelings regarding your own father?”

“Because you like him.”

“Yes, well… no offense, but I hate my father.”

Her nose scrunched, despite Nerdanel’s best efforts to hide how uncomfortable she was with this statement. Feanor should have been pleased; as prince, he should have been happy that she showed such respect and loyalty to her king. Instead, he was just annoyed that Nerdanel couldn’t listen to him complain about his own father without politics getting in the way.

But, like always, she understood anyway.

“Point taken. I’m still angry at my father.”

They were in the storage room, tucked among the jars of sand and the uncut minerals. Even in the dim light, Feanor could still see how swollen Nerdanel’s lips were. He doubted he looked better. Quite frankly, he didn’t know if Master Mahtan would be angrier with him for kissing his daughter, or her for kissing the crown prince. For once in his life, Feanor didn’t want to know the answer.

“Point taken in return.”

This was a highly uncomfortable situation.

Feanor huffed softly, and twisted his oddly angled wrist. He was pressed between a clay jar, and Nerdanel’s limbs, the result of their mad scramble away from Master Mahtan’s imperious steps, that seemed to have faded now. A little physical finagling couldn’t hurt.

He very carefully tried to pull his arm from under Nerdanel’s armpit, but it didn’t quite work out as intended. Feanor ended up banging his elbow against a lid, sending it crashing to the floor. As the hollow crash enveloped their small space, Nerdanel jumped to escape the debris, and lost her already precarious footing. She careened right into Feanor’s chest.

They found themselves in just as awkward a position, with Nerdanel pinning Feanor against the wall, one hand over his shoulder and the other gripping his shirt. Their bodies seemed to align at every point.

Feanor’s face went red. From this angle, he could count every single one of her freckles.

Nerdanel looked up, not blushing nearly as hard as him but cheeks still dusted pink, and she gave him an embarrassed grin.

“Hello,” Feanor whispered, just to give himself something to do. Her eyes were… exceptionally lovely. Why didn’t she wear sapphires more again? Oh, because she said they clashed with her hair. But they would look so nice with her eyes, which were crinkled in delight and mischief.

“Good day, Your Highness,” she said in a breathy voice, but just as quietly as him and with a great deal of pomp. “Now what exactly is a prince of your stature doing, engaging in such nonsense as this?”

She was quoting her father directly. Master Mahtan had always treated Feanor fairly, but with a great deal of expectation. Feanor was tasked with not only improving his skills in the forge, but also maintaining many other studies, like dance and rhetoric, in an effort to maintain his ‘princely duties’. “You pick up on things fast,” Master Mahtan would croon, looking at Feanor’s beautiful work, finished long before the other apprentices. “That’s good. It means you have time to write me up a solution to the Northern Road issue.”

Master Mahtan would ensure Feanor kept his manners, said the prayers he didn’t believe in, write to his father, and a variety of other things. He invited the boy to his family’s table to make sure he was remembering to eat, and had banished Feanor from the forge late at night many times. Mahtan always found where Feanor was sulking when his mind was working too fast, because he did little things like check on him in the night and monitor the prince’s caffeine consumption.

Mahtan seemed to think it was his job to raise a proper young Elf, in addition to a proper prince and a proper smith.

It was nice.

Except for when master Mahtan used Feanor’s title to scold him for being sharp-tongued, or said princes shouldn’t be kissing acclaim-less artists.

Nerdanel had replied, “Does that mean I have to have acclaim before I’m allowed to ask for his hand?”

Which is what started their mad dash escape from their guardian, Feanor and Nerdanel laughing all the way.

That teasing smile still danced on her lips, and Nerdanel’s face was pleasantly flushed. She had not made a move to pull back from where she had him pinned, and Feanor didn’t want her to. Here, hiding from their responsibilities and clustered amongst broken clay shards, was where Feanor wanted to stay forever.

“Can I kiss you again?” Feanor whispered, moving his head down to meet her’s.

Nerdanel had already surged up to capture his lips before she even nodded.

This, Feanor thought as he kissed the girl he loved so much it frightened him, is what I want. He wanted to be away from Tirion, away from Father and his wife, and their child who was already on his way to taking the title Feanor didn’t even want but felt he needed to preserve. He wanted to escape even Mahtan’s overprotective hold on both his daughter and his royal ward, and the princely expectations and duties that came with what should have been just a craftsman’s apprenticeship. He wanted Nerdanel, who listened to him rant incoherently about tanzanite for hours, and had a fire in her soul that drove her to ceaseless exploration and curiosity.

Feanor wanted to kiss her until Dagor Dagorath.

Bang!

“I found you!”

They pulled apart and screamed.

[ariannadi]

Her Heart on its Knees

AU thing I thought of… Cause y’know lmao

Sooo basically Arian and Cullen exist in a variety of different universes, one where she meets him in Kirkwall, one where she joins the Inquisition as a member of the inner circle, one where she stays with her clan, one where she becomes Inquisitor, etc. etc. etc. This takes place in the second one. Evelyn Trevelyan is Inquisitor, and Arian, curious about human society, joins the organization in hopes that her clan will warm up to the idea of becoming its ally. 

Over the months, Arian falls for Cullen, and the two become very close - though she’s convinced he’s involved with the Inquisitor. When Perseverance rolls around, Evelyn does what she believes is best, and Arian takes immediate action.

“How could you!?”

Evelyn glanced up from her stack of reports to find Arian, the young Dalish woman who had joined them in Haven, standing in front of her desk, looking angrier than the Herald had ever seen her. 

“How could I what, Arian?” she asked, genuinely confused.

The elf just inched her way toward the Inquisitor, her crystalline eyes sparking like flint on steel upon closer inspection.

“You said you would look out for him; you told me outright that you would help him in anyway you could. How does telling Cullen to go back on lyrium accomplish any of that!?” she barked, her bared teeth only adding to the effect.

Evelyn just blinked, setting down the quill she’d been writing with. “Arian. The man was visibly troubled, and he wanted to continue leading the Inquisition’s army. I did what I believed best. We will figure out a better solution once-”

“No!” Arian interrupted, slamming her hands down on the desk’s surface. “You don’t get it, do you? Cullen has one chance to be rid of everything he’s faced, and it needs to happen now. I don’t care if lyrium is easing the hardships of his position - it’s the one thing still leashing him to his past. If you cared about him you would believe in his capability to overcome this. Instead you’ve given up on him, and for what? Your army?” She rose from where she’d been hunched over, flinging her arms outward. “I hope you’re happy with the choice you’ve made." 

"Do not question my means of solving matters, Arian.” Evelyn seethed, standing from her desk and towering over the elf. “Cullen could very well die if he continues abstaining from lyrium. Would you rather that happen?”

“You don’t know that. Cullen isn’t like the other templars who have quit. He’s proven himself time and time again.” Arian argued, her voice tight.

Evelyn really didn’t have time to be lectured by the girl - instead pinching the bridge of her nose in frustration.

“The decision has been made, Arian. Now I suggest you leave me be. I have a multitude of reports to finish up.”

The elf, her expression completely wounded, slowly shook her head. “Fen'Harel ma ghilana,” she whispered, then turned on her heel and stormed out of the room.

Evelyn plopped back down into her seat the moment the door to her quarters slammed shut, a tired breath passing through her lips as she stared up at the rafters of the ceiling.

It took everything to will the angry tears in her eyes from sliding down her cheeks, but the more Arian pondered the situation the harder they fell.

This wasn’t fair. Cullen didn’t deserve this, especially from the woman who was supposed to have his love and support no matter what. How she wished she had been there the day they came to the Commander’s ultimatum; she would’ve done anything to prevent the current outcome from happening.

Perhaps she could still make an impact, she thought as she marched through the main hall of the castle, cutting through Solas’ veranda to cross the bridge to Cullen’s office. As expected, the man was present, hunched over his desk with a determined look on his face. Although Arian was quiet in her entry, that didn’t stop him from glancing up once she had shut the door behind her.

“Arian,” he acknowledged, rising upward. “Is there something you need?” He must’ve noticed the tears on her cheeks, for a second later he came right up to her, his expression concerned.

“I’m sorry, I just-” she wept, scrubbing at her face, “Cullen, why did you listen to her? You had come so far and…” she lowered her head, hugging herself. Cullen looked as though he wanted to comfort her, but his hands just hovered at his sides.

“Is… Is this about the lyrium?” he asked, and she nodded helplessly. 

“I know she’s the Inquisitor, but you’re so much stronger than you realize, Cullen,” she breathed, looking up at him. “Maybe it’s too late to convince you otherwise, but…”

Cullen appeared to be visibly touched, and finally he reached out and placed a shaky hand on her shoulder.

“Arian, I…” he started, but was interrupted by the door to his office swinging open. Both the Commander and elf turned to eye the interloper, who ended up being Evelyn.

“Inquisitor-” Cullen began, but went silent once the woman held up her hand.

“I should’ve known you were going to come here after our spat,” Evelyn directed to Arian, displeasure lacing her tone. Cullen seemed surprised at the comment, his eyes flickering between the two women.

Arian regarded the Herald with a blank expression, her breathing steady. “I couldn’t abide by your decision, Inquisitor. Dismiss me if you must, but at the very least reconsider your choice.”

To the elf’s shock, Evelyn’s face shifted; a small, respectful smile appearing on her lips.

“You needn’t worry about being dismissed,” she said, crossing her arms. “I’m… impressed that you stood up to me on your own accord, all for the sake of someone else.” Her eyes shifted to Cullen. “Commander, you have my permission to continue abstaining from lyrium use, if that is your wish.”

Cullen looked dumbstruck initially, but he quickly collected his bearings, clearing his throat. “Inquisitor. That day when you came here after my…outburst, I never actually went through with your orders. I almost did, held a vial to my lips, even. But… I couldn’t.”

Arian’s face brightened, a gasp of breath escaping her lungs as she quickly turned to face the man. 

“You haven’t taken it again?” she beamed. Cullen shook his head.

“I… I actually wanted to ask you how you felt about it first, Arian.” he explained, rubbing at his neck. “I probably should have done so sooner, seeing as you found out elsewhere.”

The elf felt her mouth part slightly. “You wanted my opinion?” she questioned in disbelief, and the man nodded.

“You are genuine in your observations. And, well… you have always had my best interest in mind. It seemed appropriate.”

Arian felt her cheeks heat, a gentle smile rising on her lips as his words nestled their way into her heart. 

“Well, I think we’re all quite aware of how Arian feels,” Evelyn said, a smirk tugging at her lips. “Now if all’s settled, I have more reports to tend to. Commander. Arian.” She gave a halfhearted salute to them both, then proceeded to exit Cullen’s office. 

“You… you were really so concerned for me that you stood up to the Inquisitor?” Cullen asked once Evelyn had left, his voice quiet.

Arian chewed at her lip, knowing she was likely in for a lecture on obedience. “I couldn’t watch you suffer, Cullen. I know the Inquisition is important, but, so are you. I respect Evelyn, but I couldn’t stand by her decision. You… you mean too much to me.”

Cullen was silent, likely contemplating a proper response. All the while, Arian stared down at her feet, knowing she had overstepped and hoping he wouldn’t be too harsh on her. She was, after all, simply looking out for her best friend.

And the man who held her heart.

“Thank you,” he finally said, and Arian’s eyes flew upward. The Commander was regarding her with a tender expression, his tawny eyes more compelling than they had ever been.

“Thank you?” Arian repeated, confused.

Cullen offered her a smile. “It’d do me well to remember that even if Evelyn is Inquisitor, I do not always have to abide by her commands. After everything that happened that day, I suppose I was simply inclined to agree.”

“You’re your own person, Cullen,” Arian murmured, stepping closer. “Not everything needs to be order and formality.”

The Commander chuckled at that. “Something I am slowly learning every day,” he admitted, resting his hands on the pommel of his sword.

Arian found herself regarding him for a moment, watching the gentle rise and fall of his shoulders as he took in a deep breath. His eyes were fixed on the far wall of his office, giving the elf an opportunity to study the sharp angles of his profile, the sculpted slope of his nose.

She found herself smiling. Even now, he looked to be at peace.

“Hopefully Evelyn won’t be too angry,” Arian uttered, twiddling her fingers. “I wouldn’t want to put a rift between you.”

“Colleagues disagree sometimes. I am sure she won’t take the objection to heart, Arian.” the man replied, turning to look at her properly.

The elven woman blinked, then shook her head. “No, that’s not… I mean, I meant, I wouldn’t want this to tarnish your… personal relationship with her.”

Cullen raised a brow. “Personal?” he inquired.

Arian sighed, her shoulders sinking. “You and Evelyn are seeing each other, right?”

“H-what?” Cullen chuckled in disbelief. “If we are I haven’t been made aware. What would make you think such?”

Arian herself was stunned, just now realizing her hunch had been wrong. “You... well, you’re always working together and… well…” she stuttered.

Cullen shook his head, but a gentle smile graced his cheeks. “I do not have feelings for Evelyn, Arian. Our relationship is strictly professional. Besides, last I heard she was weasling her way into getting information about Krem from Bull.”

Arian attempted a response, but failed; the elf too busy processing all that he had revealed to her.

“Oh.” she finally spoke, feeling foolish. “Forgive me, I didn’t mean-”

“Arian,” Cullen nearly whispered, resting his hand on her arm. “Is there a reason you considered such?”

The elf looked up into his gentle eyes, and instantly she was lost. Something within screamed at her to take advantage of this moment, but the slightest bit of doubt still held her back.

“I…” she breathed, swallowing thickly. “Yes, but… I-I don’t want to ruin things. You’re a dear friend to me and I couldn’t bear the thought of…” she lowered her head, refusing to speak further.

She wouldn’t have to.

Before she knew it, Cullen’s hand had risen from her arm, instead cupping her cheek. Carefully he turned her face upward until she was gazing right at him, and only then did she realize just how close he was.

“You could never ruin things, Arian,” he reassured her, his words sweet and slightly timid. “For months now I’ve wondered… Arian, do you… have you ever thought about this? About us?”

Surely this couldn’t be happening. There was no way Cullen was asking if she had ever thought of being with him.

“I…” she swallowed, “Yes. But I-I don’t want to jeopardize what we have now. We could just stay friends and it’d be perfectly oka-”

Cullen didn’t allow her to finish. Instead, he had bent forward and slanted his mouth over hers; the tender movement of his lips drawing a soft whine from the elf’s throat.

There wasn’t a single word to describe how Arian felt in those precious seconds. Surprised. Relieved. Grateful. Warm.

The two eventually parted, both looking flushed as they simply gazed into one another’s eyes; both contemplating what this meant for them.

“That was…” Cullen breathed, all at once looking shy.

“Uh-huh,” Arian followed dumbly, offering him an affectionate smile. Cullen reciprocated it, the hand he still had on her cheek moving to tuck a strand of hair behind her pointed ear.

“I… I don’t think I’ve ever mentioned just how lovely you are,” he murmured, his eyes carefully studying her face. Arian giggled girlishly, her head gently falling into the crook of his neck.

“And now you can do so as much as you’d like,” she nearly sang, sighing happily when Cullen pressed his smiling lips into her hair. 

Likes and reblogs are always soooo appreciated!! <3

[thechurchillreview]

Contains SPOILERS for Alien (1979), Prometheus (2012), and Alien: Covenant (2017).

The problem I have with both Prometheus and Alien: Covenant is that the Alien proto-Xenomorph (Stupid unconvincing and not scary CGI! No suspense or terror with it this time around...) never needed anything resembling an origin story. These aren't questions I had. Nor answers I ever thought of seeking before. Sometimes, the mysterious should stay, well, a mystery. Alien comic by the always fantastic @faitherinhicks.

In Alien, those aboard the Nostromo are woken up and diverted far away from their charted course home to investigate a message of unknown origin. Kane enters a vagina-shaped looking entrance of a found spaceship, becomes a figurative sperm, touches a mystery egg that a Facehugger then emerges from. From that point forward, Kane’s body serves as an incubator for the titular Alien until some early spoken dialogue comes back to violently haunt him (“I feel dead”). The chestburster ripping out of Kane is one of the most iconic scenes in Alien. It is messy, frightening, and bloody. I mean, jeez, Kane was a victim of clear sexual assault and an unwanted pregnancy kills him in the process! Viewers are given glimpses of something grisly occurring (“Bones are bent outwards...Like he exploded from inside”), but the full disturbing magnitude of the parasitic sexual predator is observed here. Prior to, simultaneously, the audience and Nostromo crew learn that the organism has put Kane into a coma, possesses a defense mechanism of molecular acid-like blood, and can survive adverse environmental conditions.

Heck Alien screenwriter Dan O'Bannon said so himself in the Alien Saga documentary released in 2002. "One thing that people are all disturbed about is sex... I said 'That's how I'm going to attack the audience; I'm going to attack them sexually. And I'm not going to go after the women in the audience, I'm going to attack the men. I am going to put in every image I can think of to make the men in the audience cross their legs. Homosexual oral rape, birth. The thing lays its eggs down your throat, the whole number." The more you know right?

See, Alien chiefly works because of its claustrophobic horror atmosphere combined with its characters being in the dark as much as we too stumble about spliced with the subtext I already mentioned earlier. You feel the tension. You fear and totally envision what the “alien” could be capable of. The human mind's perception of a mysterious horror combined with imagination is ridiculous: hence the strength of the withheld image. This is especially heightened throughout the air ducts scenes. Due to this, akin to the malfunctioning mechanical shark named Bruce in Steven Spielberg’s Jaws (1975), the less the Alien’s Xenomorph is visibly seen, the more compelling and terrifying the reveal moment is.

 And even when information is gathered about the "alien" the humans are still stuck grasping at straws.

 Always one step behind.

 Another cadaver.

Eventually, Nostromo’s seven crew members is whittled down to one. Leaving Ellen Ripley, a science-fiction icon, portrayed by Sigourney Weaver, the last one. Where everyone else failed with attempted teamwork, Ripley triumphs alone. 

Look, Ripley’s function in Alien is to carry the story forward. That it is her story was and remains a big deal in the big Hollywood picture. Ripley is seen briefly (...Sorry) in her underwear towards the conclusion to signify the “conclusion” of her terrible ordeal (the removal of battle attire, how we change out of work clothing and slip into something more comfortable). I used to have a problem with this, but over the years I saw it more as Ripley foolishly lowering her guard too soon (became too cocky before truly winning) while the exposure of her flesh reflects her vulnerability. Earlier in Alien, the men are seen in their underwear too when they’re awakening. The comatose Kane in his underwear medically make sense I believe, yet could be additionally stating his level of vulnerability at the time. I don’t sleep in solely underwear with a shirt. Nope, I prefer jeans and a shirt, always. 

She stealthily and quickly dons astronaut attire, bravely impales the Xenomorph with a harpoon gun shot that sends it into the void of space, and fries it with the engines of the ship burning up the cable to leave it adrift out there. The nightmare is no more. Now mourning, reporting, and sleeping is next.  So, through the aforementioned sexual assault subtext, Ripley isn't depicted as powerless or weak in Alien. She courageously kept her composure and survives against the lethal threat that killed the rest of the Nostromo’s crew. 

Yeah, the one key aspect that both Prometheus and Alien: Covenant have utterly failed is generating another woman on equal footing with Alien’s Ripley. The freaking focus of the Alien prequels is a male robot designed by a male creator. His creator should’ve of comprehended the deeper implications of David’s piano piece selection of instead of outright criticizing his choice. *Shudders* I don’t study music compositions and I know the meaning behind what David chose, jeez. Should’ve destroyed him immediately. Nope, too dumb to think of that.

We do get female characters and in the kindest way possible that I’m typing they’re essentially awful. Elizabeth Shaw has her uterus cut open (courtesy of David poisoning/killing her boyfriend), repairs him, and is experimented/tortured upon. In comparison, after discovering that Ash isn’t human, Ripley finds out all she can before pulling his plug. Shaw fixed an already proven to be duplicitous android…? What a fool. In Covenant, Daniels “Dany” Branson putting too much trust in Walter backfires when the painfully obvious twist towards the end rears its ugly head. Daniels not verbally battling harder for Christopher Oram to reconsider his position before landing on a trap which also goes against the purpose of the Covenant? The fact that Daniels was allowed to speak a famous Ripley line still baffles and enrages me! You’re not her. Neither is that moron Shaw.

Don’t get me started on Oram following David to a lair of Facehuggers after the android tried to befriend an alien that decapitated Covenant crew member Rosenthal. Or Oram abandoning the mission because they perhaps found another suitable colonization location that isn’t seven years away? His choice kicks off the unspeakable horrors his crew faces against. He jeopardized the lives of his crew and almost 2,000 innocent others inside of the Covenant! Oram, you’re seriously an atrocious captain! Or how about Rosenthal not following orders about staying close by whilst freshening up despite witnessing an alien ripping another crew member’s jaw off with a tail swipe? Or Maggie Faris freaking out at the sight of blood, locking Karine Oram inside with the very deceased transforming Ledward, coming back with a weapon, slipping on blood which makes her miss her target, unable to save the being mauled to death Karine, breaking her ankle when running away then falling down often, missing with every shot except for a bunch of exposed blasting explosives than in turn blow up a ship and herself?! Once again, Ripley follows proper quarantine protocol with her captain Dallas, the infected Kane, and Lambert...Until Ash undermines her and lets them inside the ship. Every crew member lacking a helmet since the air is apparently (that’s not suspicious to anyone? Really?) breathable leads to the demises of Ledward and Hallett plus the freshly born alien killing machines. It was their fault for intentionally touching something or stomping around without a care in the world.

 Yes, the sheer idiocy on display in Alien: Covenant is unbearable. Hilarious even. Er, sadly.

The truth is that there’s a barbarous beauty to Alien and with Ridley Scott insisting on prequels to the original classic he's hurting what made Alien so special in the first place.

Look Covenant isn't entirely bad...Just absolutely needless. The ideas within its DNA have considerable merit (same with the previous installment Prometheus) and Scott should of established a new IP instead of piggybacking off of an existing mostly looked upon favorably motion picture brand-name. It is confusing and complex for the sake of it. Covenant notoriously introduces some stuff and then doesn't bother to follow-up on any of them to a degree where it matters in the narrative being told! Such as the theme of love versus duty, to name an example. “Here’s a gay couple! Lope and Hallett! After the fact. Enjoy that cake everyone! Unless you viewed The Last Supper prologue video on Youtube that is.” Um, that is not how you garner praise. Just more deserved derision. Having and reinforcing the script’s couple concept crew might have been interesting. If only Alien: Covenant had bothered to color those finalized paper-thin cut-outs masquerading as genuine individuals and actually followed this angle. 

The alien existing as its own damn unmanufactured species in the depths of space apparently isn’t good enough anymore. The “perfect mysterious organism” has been ruined by Covenant: that’s the truth. Dagnabit! No, the world must have at least three prequels to Alien (Scott hinted at six in all). What the French toast?! Basically, the ideas/themes in Prometheus and Alien: Covenant deserve or should've been in a franchise that isn't remotely connected to Alien. We’re eight entries in (counting the AVP movies). EIGHT! With it would seem six more planned to go, oh my goodness. In other words, don’t waste your breath on Prometheus or Alien: Covenant. They offer misplaced themes, awe from certain gorgeous visuals alongside vexation, bafflement, and unintentional hilarity.  

[urwarriorangel]

buying some time (grant ward au)

Plot: Grant Ward now works for Tony Stark. Tony thought he’d be useful if the Avengers had any questions about current day HYDRA members. Ward wasn’t really liked by anyone in the tower, least of all you. You were good friends with Bucky and Cap and you couldn’t imagine ever befriending someone who worked for an organization that hurt both your boys so deeply. Bucky and Steve were slowly warming up to the newly reformed agent. They asked him to join them on missions, to train with them. You avoided him as much as you could. Tony and Coulson both noticed this, and they decided to send you two on missions together now. Where Grant goes, you go and vice versa. During one particular mission, he manages to save your ass from HYDRA... or what could have been HYDRA.

Pairing: Grant Ward x Reader

Warnings: curse words, a bullet wound, some kissing

A/N: Hi! I’m sorry I just love Grant Ward. I know that not many others do, but still. I included Bucky and Cap in this! ALSO GIFS ARE NOT MINE

“Damn it,” I pant, falling against the wall as I hear an explosion go off in the hallway. “What the hell is going on, Cap? This was supposed to be an easy retrieval! Why are there explosives around every fucking corner?”

“Language!” Bucky speaks out, chuckling. Normally, I’d play along, but now wasn’t the time.

“Now is not the time,” I hiss as Grant ducks back in the door, blood dripping down the side of his face.

“What the hell happened to you?” We both yell out in unison.

“Me?” Grant asks, wiping the blood off his face. “This is a scratch. What the hell is wrong with you?”

“You mean asides from being stuck with you?” I grunt as I sit up slightly.

“Children, behave. This mission is harder than we thought,” Cap’s voice rings out and I scoff.

“You don’t say? The bullet in my side told me it’s gonna be an easy one,” I bite out and Grant turned my earpiece off. “What the hell was that for?!”

Originally posted by agentsofshield

“Rogers is trying to save all of our asses right now. He’s on the phone with Tony, trying to get some back up. Cut him some slack,” Grant glares at me and I return the gesture.

“Don’t tell me to cut my friends some slack when your ‘former’ organization is trying to kill them and us,” I grit my teeth and Grant’s eyes grow darker than usual.

“If you want to say something to me, say it,” he clenches his jaw, eyes never leaving my face while he bend down to be eye to eye with me.

“I’m saying you’re still in HYDRA. How the hell else did they know we’d be here?” I spit out accusation after accusation, Grant growing angrier by the second.

“I am no longer affiliated with HYDRA!” Grant pushes himself up and punches the wall, causing me to jump. “The only reason I was a part of that organization in the first place is because of Garrett. He was all I knew, the only person I had that I could call family. He busted my ass out of juvie before my family could press charges. I owed him everything.”

I watch him with a clenched jaw and furrowed brows.

“I wasn’t the easiest kid to deal with. He gave me a second chance. A screwed up one, now that I think about it, but a chance nonetheless. The second that I lost Skye, though, all of that meant nothing. He meant nothing. Skye was the only person I truly cared about and she was ripped from me, granted it was my fault,” he shakes his head and turns to face me. “I hate HYDRA. I publicly turned against them. I’m their number one target right now. The only reason I came on this mission is to protect you: the one person who can’t seem to work with me.”

“HYDRA ruined my life, Grant,” I stand up, biting my bottom lip as I try to ignore my wound. “It’s not you that I hate. It’s what you used to stand for. The two guys on the other end, the ones trying to save us? They have been there for me more than anyone has. HYDRA tore Buck and Cap apart, Buck more literally than Cap. After Bucky escaped, they captured me.”

Grant looked at me, confused and surprised. He opened his mouth to speak and I shook my head.

“Let me finish. All I want to say is HYDRA isn’t nice. That and I’m sorry for not giving you a chance,” I shrug as Grant shakes his head.

“Look, I had no idea you were in HYDRA’s care. I swear I didn’t-”

“I know, Grant. It was right before you left them. You had nothing to do with them,” I shake my head and hold up a hand, indicating I heard something.

Grant furrows his brows and we both wait, holding our breath as footsteps approached. He grabs my arms and pushes me against the wall, his body shielding mine.

“What the hell are you doing, Grant?” I whisper, heart rate skyrocketing as the footsteps come closer.

“Trying to buy us both some time. Play along,” he whispers, lowering his head, bringing his lips closer to mine. They brush against my lips as he speaks. “Is that okay?”

I barely manage to nod as he nudges his nose against mine, my eyes closing while his hands wrap around my waist, maintaining the pressure on my wound. I make the next move, tilting my face up and placing my lips against his. A small smile etches itself onto his face, his hands tightening around me. I push myself up, kissing him almost desperately at this point. The doors open, and this causes Grant and I to step things up. Grant towers over me, hiding me from the door and the door from me. I tug on his hair, pulling his head back as I kiss his neck, the angle giving me proper view of the intruders: Cap and Bucky, both of whom are smiling impishly.

“Oh no,” my eyes go wide and I pull away, but Grant doesn’t get the message. Instead, he goes to town on my neck and for the life of me, I can’t keep quiet.

“G-grant,” I whimper, nudging his shoulder. “I-it’s Bucky and Cap.”

“What?” He pulls away quickly, eyes wide as he turns to face them, smiles still on their faces. A dark blush covers our cheeks as Buck and Cap laugh at us.

Grant clears his throat and takes a step away from me, nearly causing me to fall. Buck takes a step closer to me and holds me up.

“What the hell happened here?” He scrunches his brows as I pull up my shirt.

“It’s nothing, really,” I shrug as the three men stare at the entry wound of a bullet.

“You’ve got a bullet in you,” Bucky glares at me and I glare back at him. “What do you mean it’s nothing?”

“I mean I’m okay,” I pull my shirt back down and wrap my jacket over it. “I put pressure on it initially. I’ll be fine.”

“Come here,” Grant shakes his head and picks me up bridal style, completely ignoring my protests. He looks at Cap as Cap pats his shoulder. “You two have the helicarrier ready?”

“Yeah, let’s get out of here, love birds,” Bucky smirks and ruffles my hair as he walks out.

“You know if I could stand properly, I’d kick both their asses,” I breathe out, trying to keep awake as Grant walks us out of the room.

“I know you would,” he chuckles and looks down at me.

“I’d also give you a proper kiss.”

[imaginaryculturepress-blog]

TFTP: Rise Against in Perth, WA

In which we photograph Rise Against and have the best shuttle and replacement bus experiences ever. *Mexican wave.*

Hi, hello, and welcome!

My name is Skyler and oH MY FUCKING LORD YES I PHOTOGRAPHED RISE AGAINST. I honestly cannot believe it either, but here we are. I guess I make up for that with my really shitty lenses and positioning though, so I'm back to being a pathetic idiot. For real though, I was using your standard 18-55mm f3.5-5.6 kit lens and it made me want to die.

We're only one paragraph down and I've managed to include an abundance of self-hatred and suicide references... how fun.

Before we begin, I'd like to take a moment to thank the lovely lads at HBF Stadium and VenuesWest for their assistance in gaining a photo pass, even if it wasn't a "proper", "entry-to-the-pit" one; this experience was actually extremely educational, teaching me to try out new angles, avoid photographing the same people (for social images) twice, that I really need to pay more attention to my camera modes, and that I should just get new freaken lenses. Furthermore, it's only necessary to thank the amazing Bare Bones for hooking us up with a reviewer pass. The guys are some of the kindest and talented people I've had the pleasure of meeting, and seeing them live was incredible. So thank y'all kindly.

Anywho, let's get to it:

T'was a lovely Wednesday 7th February when I found myself doing some last-minute transport calculations and failing to print a ticket. After dragging my lazy ass out of math class I headed home, only to realise that I hadn't worked out a proper schedule for our train-to-train-to-Grill'd-to-bus-to-HBF Stadium trip. It was at this same point that I realised that the Freo line wasn't operating that evening from 7pm till Thursday morning; you know, so it'd be closed

after the concert ended and busses stopped.

Furthermore, I had a pathetic excuse for a digital ticket that refused to transfer or print itself, thus I was in a complete panic.

So I did what any good concert photographer would do: I decided to wing it. The trains, the busses, heck, even the mushroom burgers and tickets. Just go with the flow. What ever will be, will be. Et cetera.

I was of course to regret this when I found myself sprinting to the Freo train and not regaining my breath until we reached Claremont Station, but it's fine. It's all fine. Just go with the flow. I had to become Boxer from Animal Farm;  "I will work harder". "Napoleon is always right". I will plan better. Grill'd burgers make everything alright. Something like that.

Soon enough, we found ourselves at Grill'd, ordering mushroom burgers; you know, those vegan ones we get every single goddamn time because Grill'd only has two (though very amazing) vegan options... besides the chips. But nobody counts that. Regardless, t'was an incredible lunch/dinner/linner and I might've become addicted to it.

We soon headed for HBF Stadium, where after an hour of hectic "I've never photographed here before", I was assisted by a wonderful VenuesWest employee. (I don't want to mention names as I don't know if they'd be all right with that.) The place was crawling with eager concert-goers, and there's nothing I love more than listening to their conversations. It's weird and creepy, I know, but they're usually highly opinionated and I love to answer or debate them in my mind.

After a little while longer of waiting, the show was about to start.

First up were Bare Bones, some of the best lads in the whole of Australia. I first met them last year through an interview for Hysteria Magazine, in which I was wrongly credited by the publication. I also reviewed their album Bad Habits (2017) and was a fan of their music, giving them a 5/5. Anyone gonna comment on how that's a plain numeral and not "play this at my funeral/5"? No? Well regardless, I've matured since my days at Hysteria and now use fancy ratings, not those basic af number things. (I'm still salty at Hysteria. That will never change. They're in my book of Most Disliked, alongside Gina Rinehart and Supposed Manager.)

Though I'd only had a five-minute phone call with the band back in May, they appeared to be very humble and down to earth. This was confirmed that night, with Bare Bones playing one hell of a set before Rise Against. I was proud to say the least; I realise it's not my place to care, but I've been attentive to these guys' music for a little under a year, and had seen them grow as musicians. Sure, I had no clue as to what was occurring behind the scenes, but from a fan's perspective, they were progressing in the right direction.

Their performance was phenomenal. A slightly tough crowd, considering the majority of people were too busy waiting in lines for booze, but those present seemed to love the set. The lads did a fantastic job, and I had a bit of a fangirl moment when they played "Thick as Thieves"... stop judging me...

They were the perfect way to start the evening, even with the red lighting.

Intermission.

The lights dimmed, the crowd screamed, the blogger wrote the same "a band is about to go onstage" line that everyone uses, and lo and behold, Rise Against appeared before us. I had a bit of a restrictive photo pass, and could only shoot from the crowd (the photo pass part of it allowed me to bring in professional equipment, which the general admission was prohibited from doing). It was quite the spectacle, really. The guys were super energetic and immersed the entire audience, which is always fun.

We had a three song shooting restriction, which nobody but myself actually followed. I wanted to enjoy the show from a fan's perspective, so after the third song, "The Violence", I set down my DSLR and realised just how incapable I was at audience-ing. But before we get to that, let's focus on this last shooting song:

I was granted permission to run around the venue like a headless goose, so long as I got some decent imagery out of it. So for this song, I ran to the nosebleeds to capture some crowd shots. I received quite a few concerned expressions from staff and security, mostly due to my weird singing whilst shooting; apparently normal people don't do that. But as I was at the top of the crowd, looking down at each and every attendee, I felt at peace. There was something rich and raw within that moment, something that united the entire stadium as one. It was that same emotion that grasped me during SOTA Fest last year, and I loved it. So I took it in. A moment of admiring the scene.

I was soon back in the crowd, and as I said before, I didn't know how to audience properly. I mean, I stood there... just... standing. I sang along to some songs, but felt awkward without a camera and was unsure of where to keep my hands. I was going to run into the pit and join the moshers who were throwing shoes at each other, but then a really sweaty muscular dude almost knocked me over as he headed for the pit, and I realised that if I can't survive the sidelines, there's no way I'd walk out of that pit alive.

So I went back to figuring out where to place my hands.

Rise Against were absolutely incredible. They're such modest people and are wholeheartedly dedicated to entertaining their fans, and anyone with the chance to see them live should do so. There's nothing I love more than (vegetarian and vegan) musicians showing a love for their fans and being the sweetest people ever whilst jamming the fuck out and hosting one of the craziest mosh pits ever. (SOMEONE GET THEM A GRILL'D MUSHROOM BURGER, THEY DESERVE IT!)

Inter- fuck, it was over. But don't fret; this post isn't. We've still got a Drunk Dudes on a BusTM story to tell. Actually, there's over an hour of bus tales to tell, so I think we're gonna summarise it as follows:

- We got to the shuttle and were greeted by a seemingly chillaxed bus driver.- Soon the bus was packed full of drunken weirdos and I loved the atmosphere.- Everything was about to intensify when the driver began, well, driving.- He actually drove like a maniac and was going way over the speed limit; everyone loved it! (Dead serious, no sarcasm. It was amazing.)- Some random dude with a thick Aussie accent screamed "SICKIIIIIIIES FOR EVERYONE TOMORROW!"- Everyone replied with "hear, hear!"- The driver should star in the next Fast and Furious film.- He was driving super recklessly so the drunk guys up the back decided it was only necessary to do the Mexican wave.- When they finally perfected the wave - sorry, we all perfected the wave, because everyone was engaged and loving the moment - someone shouted "GO TEAM" really loudly. - They were being the hilarious drunks and I wished I had some of the beer they were having. Well, I did; it was spilled on me at least three times during the show. Nevertheless, I hadn't drunk any and I regretted that.- The driver ran a red light.- It was kinda like that bus in Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban and my geek self was thriving.- Unfortunately we reached Claremont Station and had to get off the bus ://- The trains weren't operating so the Drunk GangTM (I'm included okAY I WANT TO BE A PART OF THIS) trekked to the bus stop. - The replacement busses were running late so we had to stand there for over half an hour. I loved it.- The Drunks were trying to hitchhike and scared a lot of passing traffic.- They started terrorising passing Grill'd employees and screaming "ONE OF US! ONE OF US!" until we were all chanting.- There was one couple who seemed to be normal backpackers but they were having some weird-ass conversations regarding red suitcases and pillows. - We were getting pretty reckless so somebody called the railway security Transperth people whose profession titles I've momentarily forgotten.- It took a fair few patrol cars to keep us at bay. It's not like we were harming anyone, though; just screaming at passing cars. - I wish I took a group photo of everyone but that would've required crossing the street and it was midnight and I had no energy left to avoid getting run over by a truck. Or the shuttle bus. In all honesty, I was mainly concerned the bus would arrive the moment I got to the other side of the road and would leave without me.- The replacement bus finally came and barely anyone paid for their tickets.- It was one of those large ones that had a caterpillar in the middle (what? I can't explain things) so we were fortunate enough all fit in and travel together.- I had a lovely chat about the comfort levels of the bus' seats with some obviously intoxicated lad.- One dude boarded at a random stop out of nowhere and was like, "Hold up, y'all are coming from Rise Against? I WAS THERE TOO! FAAAAAAM!!!" - Someone got kicked off unfairly at the side of the road and we still miss him dearly.- After he was kicked off, everyone went dead silent for a couple dozen seconds before someone at the back started singing loudly, "The wheels on the bus go round and round..." and then everyone joined in and Broadway was shook. - We went the really long way and it was like 1am when we reached the Perth bus station.- I LOVE MY BUS FAM AND I WISH WE COULD HAVE A REUNION SOMETIME SO PLEASE CONTACT ME IF YOU WERE THERE AND WE CAN AT LEAST ACKNOWLEDGE OUR BUS PRESENCE OR SOMETHING. PLEASE. I'M SLIGHTLY DESPERATE, I DON'T CARE HOW WEIRD OR CREEPY THIS SOUNDS.

So... that was that. I still love my Bus Family just leave me to cry.

Next up: I don't freaken know, but I'm not writing about Hyperfest because I don't have nearly as many adjectives as I'd need for that. (But Midland Grill'd make the best vegan mushroom burgers and I love them for it.)

MUSICAL SUMMARY:

Bare Bones: mY PRECIOUS FAVES I'M SO PROUD *wipes tear*/5

Rise Against: YOU FUCKEN LEGENDS I LOVE YOU/5

Drunk Dudes on Bus: Y'all should get a musical.ly account and start touring and I'll be your photographer and wE CAN ALL LIVE ON A BUS TOGETHER/5

PHOTOGRAPHICAL SUMMARY:

Lenses: Failed me/5

Camera: The love of my life/5

Lighting: Pretty. Good. Pretty good. -Mike Wheeler in Stranger Things/5

Editing: I had to crop some images I'm sorry please don't hate me/5

My sanity: I JUST WANT MY BUS FAMILY BACK IS THAT SERIOUSLY TOO MUCH TO ASK FOR/5

Live long and headbang, xx-Skyler Slate

[flauntpage]

The Cult: Roger Federer

This article originally appeared on VICE Sports UK.

Once you're done with Roger, why not clear your diary and check out the other 98 instalments of The Cult.

Cult Grade: The God Illusion

Deep in the mists of time, when this series began, I called it The Cult because it seemed that everyone had grown a little silly about who and what sportsmen and women were. The urge to venerate humans far above what they actually are is presumably as old as the human ego. I doubt that chimpanzees did it – they don't seem the type – but I'm pretty sure the Mayans did, up there on the highest hill, cutting off some child's head for a little blood sacrifice to their dead ancestors. You know what people are like: if we put our minds to it, we can control anything.

We live – or have been living, depending on how many miles you think are left on this particular road – in the Entertainment Age. You hardly need me to tell you that sport has stood side by side with movies to form its most beloved couple. Know how many movies were released in 2016? Nah, me neither. Too many. I stopped counting at 60, by which point it was January 8th. Friend Request. Eisenstein in Guanajuato. Crayon Shin-Chan: My Moving Story. "Gimme a break, kid," you'll have to tell some uppity grandchild who's asking whether you possess the know-how to construct a workable flood defence. "I was busy with other stuff."

READ MORE: The Cult – Goran Ivanisevic

Though most of the time I just accept it, every so often I'm caught by what 'normal' looks like in sport, the excess congesting its surfaces like a bad case of herpes. The umbrella sponsored by BNP Paribas, a digital display sponsored by Rolex, the sweetly innocent Robinsons, still trying to get someone to buy barley water. Loudest of all are the desperate solicitations – delivered in a tone that always puts me in mind of that poor salesman Gil from The Simpsons – to bet on anything and everything you're seeing. Please – *grips your arm* – please bet now.

Then there are the people playing it, and the labyrinthine distortion through which we now see them. What they are is humans running around and throwing things and having KEEP IT TIGHT TO HIM GARY as the central philosophy of their existence. What they also are, in the Entertainment Age, is one of the few things on this planet that feels like it truly matters. After all, it's always new, the drama of a 91st-minute winner is never fake, so blame me not for losing track of how important they are. In this Age, when all the stuff that matters most is the opposite of what has mattered most to the human race for millennia, you get a bit weird about how to define 'important'.

So yeah, that was what I wanted to get across in profiling the members of that cultish firmament. That, among other things, it's irresistible, but inane, to see them as anything but human beings. And then moonlight falls on the murky pond of human inanity, and you see a guy who, though you know you shouldn't, can't help but make you feel that we are gods. Capable of nonchalantly rewriting the laws of what is possible. And, happily, back into the pond you go.

Point of Entry: Keys To The Universe

Here are some sports players who can compete with Roger Federer in the cultish perception stakes: Michael Jordan, Usain Bolt, Lionel Messi. That's it. I mean, I say that like I have any bloody clue about how Rod Laver or Pele or Wilt Chamberlain were viewed, except for knowing that they came into the Western conscious at a time when the Entertainment Age was at best in its adolescence, when stuff like nuclear war or global communism or the rights of black people put more pressing demands on people's attention. As your correspondent at your service, I watched some old footage of Rod Laver playing tennis, and I can report back that he looks very good at it. But, running around an unadorned court in service-issue whites, that's all he looks: good at tennis. He isn't a god. He's a sportsman who won all four Grand Slams in the same year that the Soviet Union started shipping nuclear missiles to an island a few hundred miles from America. Barely 15 years previous – in fact, only slightly longer than the gap between Federer's first and eighth Wimbledon titles – America had emptied life from two cities with these weapons. They obviously weren't 'symbolic deterrents'. I sort of hope Rod did actually try telling people during that time, as their knuckles whitened around their corned-beef tin, ears glued to their radios: 'Guys, I'm thinking of eliding my initials to form a cool logo.'

Is it an error to think of how Roger Federer plays tennis as godlike? I can't tell anymore. I'm not exactly helped by all the people who assemble to watch him while wearing sportswear bearing his logo. During the semi-final against Tomas Berdych the camera repeatedly cut to a couple, who appeared old enough to dress themselves, sporting his and hers RF red caps as if that was a completely regular thing to do, even though they clashed dementedly with the rest of their outfits. At what point did they put them on? In unison? Or did they discover, as they reunited in the hall to leave the house, that they both had the same instincts? Is that not the definition of cult: the keenness to debase yourself in service of it?

PA Images

But then he played, and he reminded you that, at his best, there is no tennis apart from his. Jordan, Bolt, Messi, Federer – they have the power to remove the very existence of competition, to destroy all worlds but their own. *Mutters, sotto voce - because of dunking a ball, running fast, kicking a ball, hitting a ball*

More than once – probably about 20 times – Berdych played a shot where your natural reaction was: "He'll do well to get that one back." And then, whip. He does indeed do well. There's a music that plays, a saturnine Federer key into some rhythm of the universe that only he knows, where every single element of the winner he produces has a one-millimetre margin for error, the angle of his racket and the height of the net and the position of Berdych and the length of the court leaving it with a possibility for success of *grabs calculator* not very much. And yet his most difficult shots are the ones that seem somehow most sure to work, a restructuring of physics, the silly music of humans as gods, because it's also just tennis. The consequence is, when you're not distracted by the BNP Paribas umbrella and the Rolex display, you feel innocent about life, about how to judge and measure it. He did that to you. Your humble correspondent would argue that his ability to make you childlike and awestruck is why he seems to have a pretty neat split between girl fans and boy fans of all ages, because as kids we're less aware of our gender.

My favourite thing Federer does, and it usually happens once or twice a match, is to go down three break points. "Oh my god, I've got three break points against Federer!" The way in which he then takes those break points back, like a sniper who manages to put three headshots on you before you've even bent a knee, probably makes it even more disheartening to have got them in the first place than if you'd just lost the game conventionally. The most likely interpretation of this is that he's supremely unruffled by the situation, being who he is; and the awesome, godlike interpretation is that he really is toying with humans who have made multi-million pound careers in tennis by giving them imaginary break points.

This stuff is so illusory. You've learnt from all those interviews with sporting superheroes how regularly they disprove the possibility that exciting, compelling things are occurring in their heads. From Kobe Bryant to Pete Sampras to Steven Gerrard to Lewis Hamilton, they're all boring; they weren't made to talk. A large part of me suspects that if you were to ask Roger Federer whether, like a cruel, godlike tennis cat, he was toying with his opponents in these situations, you would be met with the same reaction as if someone asked you to describe the dynamics at play in your mind while tying your shoelaces. But I'm afraid, and this will forever hold true, a small part of me just can't help but wonder.

The Moment - A few seconds in an interview from 1999, when he had terrible highlights in his hair

Is Federer boring in interviews? Again, it's hard to tell. I mean, obviously he is. There are about eight sportsmen who give genuinely interesting interviews, and they're all fuck-ups who demonstrably had minds that distracted them from operating consistently in elite sport. But still, that happy, bulbous-nosed serenity – I end up retrofitting it in my mind, as if somehow this talking-style will be taken on to the court and turned into godlike tennis. In fact, I suspect the reality is that it's not much like him, that talking isn't a whole lot to Roger Federer, a minor significance compared to what life is really for.

Take, for example, a brief exchange during this interview, which is meant to be presented in rapid-fire 20-questions style, but, thanks to the hilariously literal-minded approach of his Dutch interviewer, comes across more like the interrogation of a fighter pilot who's been captured behind enemy lines. 'Last book you read?' Fed swats the question back in that way we've all grown to know and love, like it's literally nothing to him. "I don't read books, so I don't have a favourite book."

But relax, I have an update on this particular saga. I have sat through a little clipoid called Favourite Book? from Tennis TV. A smattering of them are proper readers, though not the Americans, obviously. It has some strong moments: Andy Roddick telling us that it is because he is 'a big history buff' that his favourite book is Angels and Demons by Dan Brown; Sam Querrey pronouncing 'book' like he isn't quite convinced of the spelling; Rafa sitting there for a second or two, looking like he isn't even convinced of the definition, and then naming a book in the magic-realist Latin American tradition from the daughter of the ex-Chilean president called City of the Beasts, like a sudden topspin whip kicking up in your face.

And then we get to Roger. A decade has passed; his cap is now adorned by an elided RF. You've never heard a more practiced answer; he says it literally as soon as he can: "I actually read a lot of magazines, newspapers, so I actually don't have a favourite book… but autobiographies are quite interesting as well."

You know what I think Roger Federer's not prepared to do? He's not prepared to get anything wrong, ever, including answers to questions like 'What's your favourite book?' Do you know how hard it must be to have that as your overall sense of life? I think, in its coiled springs, it makes you want to hurt people. Could you truly imagine that the person who occupies his spot in the sporting world would simply be the one with the most talent? The talent has to be strapped to, needled by, something darker. Something to force it beyond where anyone else's talent goes. If you looked at Roger Federer's eyes, would you say they look light or dark?

PA Images

And so we get to the true god illusion. A gentle god, his image perpetuated by how handsome he looks in a white jacket as he strides on to Centre Court, by dippily idolising TV pundits, by the creation of his smoothed, chaste, on-camera style. The illusion that somehow, Mr RF is simply playing alone, a solitary maestro bestowing his hallowed brand of tennis on a grateful world.

Bullshit. You know who doesn't get mentioned enough in any discussion of Roger Federer? His opponents. Because I can guarantee you, Roger hasn't forgotten them. He is not the charitable foundation of RF Tennis. He is, lest we forget, possibly more than anyone in the history of men's sport, the one whose forte is beating another human one-on-one. And beating them in a way that's relentless in torturing their dream that they might escape a beating. You don't get to do that, year in year out, unless you want to. Find a friendly way to describe that one to Sue Barker, eh Rodge? 'So what did you think when you knew Cilic was injured?' Can guarantee you wouldn't like the answer to that, Sue, if he could only find a way to spell it out. And here's a question: if he could, would he still feel the drive to keep on playing? Does he need tennis to spell out the darkness?

READ MORE: The Cult – Michael Vick

And so to The Moment, which occurs around 48 seconds into the video above. In the silence when the interviewer is asking him "Is it tough to be on the tour?" his face spells it out, even if it's gone in a heartbeat. And you know why I think that is? Because what he'd just said regarding recent tour results was that he'd taken a good scalp, a top-10 player, "So this week is already great."

And my theory, dear reader, for you, brought to you from a kitchen table where I have made an apple core into an impromptu ashtray, is that when 18-year-old Roger talks about beating people and then uses the words "already great", it causes a reaction in his face that gives his eyes juuuust the slightest hint of axe-murderer around enraged, tightened cheeks, before it disappears. Something inside him would never be satisfied, would never think the job was done. You cannot keep beating people, to the extent he has, unless you need to, unless it is a means to cool your insides off. And what are any of us really looking for but a way to cool off our insides?

Closing Statements

Some suited commentary goon stood next to one of those blue ATP courts in 2010, doing a bit-to-camera:"I had a chance to chat to the top eight players. I asked them a few 'random questions'.First of all, which actor would they like to portray them – *pause for effect * – in a film.

Federer: "Pffft, I dunno. Hopefully one of the greatest actors around. I don't know which one that is right now."

Words: @TobySprigings / Illustration: @Dan_Draws

The Cult: Roger Federer published first on http://ift.tt/2pLTmlv

[itsworn]

Race Car Setup is an Art Form

The Development of the Setup is a Form of Art

The whole process of setting up a race car involves seeing a picture of what you want to develop and then assembling all of the parts and pieces that will cause that to happen. Some racers see the picture more easily than others. If we see race car setup as an art, we can also see where there are many different approaches and ways to look at the art form.

I truly believe that artists are mostly born and improve with age. That idea sometimes conflicts with my other belief that setting up a race car is a form of art too. The whole process of setup comes easy for some and more difficult for most. Can this art form be learned? I have often wondered if it can. My daughter Christa is an artist. I knew it from the time she was only five. She would sketch scenes with depth and imagination at that early age. It came easy for her.

The truly gifted race car setup artists also seems to have a natural knack for putting all of the pieces together in the proper order and where all of the parts fit. When that happens, the car has a look to it, while negotiating the turns, that to me resembles art. A well setup race car is a thing of beauty. You know exactly what I mean. You’ve seen it countless times be it your car or someone else’s.

The driver can tell from inside the cockpit. The car just feels like it wants and needs to go through those turns. The effortless way it settles in on entry, the neutral feel in the steering wheel and as it rockets off the corners all tell us something that just feels right. The driver exits the car after 100 hard fought laps with a lot less sweat and energy loss than with other cars they have had to drive.

I have seen it done by some who are masters. They can take a completely different car than what they are used to and transform it into a piece of art. Others struggle to apply the first stroke and waiver through the process, not really being able to see the picture in their minds like the artist do when painting the landscape.

Can these types learn the art or are they doomed to struggle year after year? There is a truth to be learned here and it falls somewhere between and includes the artist and the engineer. And I’m not talking about formal education being the determining factor in labeling a person either. We are what we are by deed.

Most artists never had any instruction, Christa didn’t. They can learn something from the masters though. And, most race car engineers never took engineering courses in school, but they can acquire the skills they need through association with other more experienced racing engineers. They just do the art and are the artist.

There is hope for the aspiring setup artist. It comes with developing, or being born with, the desire to “paint” and the willingness to work hard at it. Associate yourself with other “artists”, watch what the masters do and listen when they talk. Ask questions without fear.

No one ever learned anything by being quiet. And seek only to please yourself. The true masters care not what others think of how they do their art, if it is appealing to your eyes, then it will most likely appeal to others.

And when you are finished with your “painting”, it will be on display for everyone to see. When your car does well, it will show. And that, I think, is the draw for every artist, to show off your talents to others. Are you ready to paint the perfect picture and display it in victory lane?

If you have comments or questions about this or anything racing related, send them to my email address: chassisrd@aol.com or mail can be sent to Circle Track, Senior Tech Editor, 1733 Alton Parkway, Suite 100, Irvine, CA.

Concussions Without Crashes Comments

Hi Bob, 

I am an open wheel racer in Australia, I have seen several topics lately concerning full containment seats and the damage they are doing as far as the heads striking the seat and it having no “give” so to speak, I have recently gone to a full containment seat and I have to agree, they are pretty harsh on the head when your bouncing around on a rutted track. 

I had an idea, and forgive me if you have already thought of this, or if the seat manufacturers are already on it. Is it possible to design a headrest that has a floating cushion/pad and that is connected to the seat via several hydraulic tappet-like barrels? The pad wouldn’t need to move much, just enough so that it absorbs the shock and progressively transfers the pressure through the halo?

Sean Henderson

That is a good idea. The head could be contained inside a halo device that was restrained by a mechanism that works much like a shock where with lower speed movements, it gave way fairly easily. Then with higher speed movements, like when the car hits the wall, etc. it would restrict the movement more aggressively like it needed to.

In an unrestricted scenario like back in the day when there were no head side restraints, the neck naturally allowed the head to stay fairly centered while the car rocked back and forth with the movement over the rough track surface. There was no transfer of force to the brain back then.

But we do need to protect the head and neck from violent movement to the side, just like we discovered we needed to do for sudden forward movement. With the talk about this problem getting louder, I would think that the industry would begin to address the problem and offer up some solutions. Only time will tell.

Push Rod For Three Link

Hello,

I’ve just purchased a new car and I’m starting to go through and look at the suspension. I just wanted to ask a question on rear steer. The car is on a three-link rear axle but the link bars have a rubber bushing on one end and a rose joint the other. The rubbers are really soft so under power I think they will stretch or shorten and make the rear axle point in all directions.

My question is, under load the wheels rotate and try to push towards the front of the car, but does the link bars try to get longer or shorter? I was thinking of running a harder poly bushing or something harder than the current rubber on just one side of the car to help give me rear steer but the correct way. But which side should I run the harder bush.

Cheers, Carl

Yes, as the car accelerates off the corner, the tires push the suspension links and the link with the rubber will compress and shorten causing rear steer in some direction. I’ve never heard of running those on the left side in a left turning car. Most of these do not extend although they can be designed to do that.

We usually run the rubber biscuit on the right side only. Most types of these “push rods” can be adjusted and tightened so that the movement is reduced. Many times these will move too far and cause too much rear steer.

It is not a given that you need this device. I would put in a solid link in the left side all of the time (I assume you are turning left) and try running a solid link in the right side to see if you really need the push-rod for traction off the corners. Then if you think you need help, just install the compressible link in the right side and adjust the preload, or put in the stiffer poly biscuit and see how that works.

Spring Rate vs. Panhard Bar Height

Good morning Mr. Bolles,

Concerning spring rates on the rear in relation to panhard bar heights, can I get a little more explanation on how I go about choosing my height in relation to my rear springs? When lowering spring rate on the rear do I lower the panhard bar or raise it?

Is it normal to run the panhard bar inverted with the left side higher than the right side? I look forward to hearing from you. I am a long time reader of Circle Track, and I think it is an awesome magazine.

Thanks, Brian Owens 

When you soften the rear spring rates, you soften the rear dynamics to cause the rear to want to roll more. If that is your goal, fine. But if you just want to soften the springs and not change the dynamic balance, you would need to change the rear roll center height, or panhard bar height.

To compensate in this case, you have to raise the rear roll center, or panhard bar height if you want the same rear roll stiffness. If you are just trying to tighten the car, soften the springs and/or lower the panhard bar to do that.

There is no formula that will tell us how much to raise or lower the panhard bar for a given change in spring rate. That’s because there are so many different designs of rear suspension involving spring base width, spring angles, and spring split (which greatly affects the suspension stiffness).

As for panhard bar angle, it is becoming normal to run the left side of the panhard bar higher on asphalt cars. This has been done for some time with dirt late models for other reasons than why we do it on asphalt.

When we run the bar at an angle with the right side down, it is more in-line with the lateral forces that cause the car to dive and roll. With this angle, there is less jacking of weight when the force and panhard bar are more in line.

Pull Bar/Lift Arm Spring Rate

Hello Bob,

I am 66 years old and have been in racing for 50 plus years as car owner and crew chief. I am currently working with a dirt modified driver with 27 years of perfect attendance at Merritt Speedway in Michigan. He is a multi-time track champ with over 100 feature wins.

My question is, in a recent article about more forward bite, you mentioned pull bars, lift bars, etc. as ways to reduce shock on the rear end. Do you do that with a stiffer or softer spring? Also, which way would you move it forward or back to help? I say use a stiffer spring, a lot of people are not sure. Thanks for your help. You should come to Merritt sometime. Oh, and I forgot to mention, we are trying to get off the corners better.

Thanks again, Bob Dack

The pull bars and lift arms do two things. The first is, they help reduce the “shock” to the rear tires when we initially apply throttle when coming off the corners. This help is short lived and only works during the initial application of power. Secondly, these parts also transfer some of the load off the springs and onto the rear end at the point where the link is attached to the rear end.

The second event is the most lasting because this transfer of load stays on the rear end the whole time we are accelerating. We can use that transfer of load to cause more equal loading on the rear tires, which is a primary goal to help gain bite for acceleration for asphalt race cars. It’s a little different for dirt cars.

As for spring rate, the stiffer the rate, the less help you will get from the first event, reducing the shocking factor. As to the second event, you’ll need to run a stiff enough spring in the third link pull bar so that it won’t coil bind. We need for this spring to work all of the way down the straight while we are accelerating.

As to the lift arm, the stiffness will dictate how well it absorbs the initial application of throttle. Softer is better if you need it. And, the length of the arm determines how much load is transferred off the springs by how much force the arm produces. The shorter the arm, the more force produced and therefore the more load taken off the springs and put on the rear end.

The running of a shorter lift arm can actually lift the rear of the car and not all teams think that is an advantage. If you find a length that will eliminate rear squat on acceleration, but not raise the rear of the car, you are probably close to the right length.

The post Race Car Setup is an Art Form appeared first on Hot Rod Network.

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[amandagnwn-blog]

This never got posted on Instagram because of issues with the song’s copyright and such. I tried changing the song to a couple of different versions of it but Instagram still refused to let me upload it so it ended up being shown to family and friends only.

I digress.

Anyways, here is a video of what a typical sunday looks like for me. Because school usually occupies the bulk of my time during the weekdays, I try to spend as much time with my dogs as possible during the weekends, which really isn’t that hard to do in Los angeles given the perfect weather and thus everything is essentially an outdoor activity and so DOGS ARE ALLOWED. I’m going to do a post one day of all my favourite dog-friendly places because it took quite a bit of trial and error (and lots of intense research) to come up with this list.

I digress. Again.

So this post is about making the switch from Iphone to Google Pixel. This is going to be a long google appreciation post so bear with me guys.

I had been using my iphone 6 for the longest time, anxiously anticipating the release of the new iphone 7 so I could make the switch. Two weeks before the release of the iphone 7, alas I dropped my phone into the toilet. Anyone who’s ever done something as careless that would know that that basically marked the end of my iphone 6. I tried to salvage as much as I could though, I brought it to repair shops, put it in rice etc etc only to find out what I had already known from the start, that it was over for my iphone.

The clock struck twelve that one fateful night and preorders for the iphone 7 had opened up. I quickly made an order for the iphone 7+. I somehow felt like I deserved that little upgrade after having lived with the dreadfully slow iphone 5 for two weeks. I know right, I am very spoiled and grossly dependent on technology.

So the day came when the iphone 7+ was finally in my hands. I remember my fiancee helping me set up the switch. He likes doing these things. I also remember him finally being done with the preparations and handing it to me for its first official usage. I fiddled with it for a good one to two hours or so and then the novelty wore off.

My fiancee was quite bothered by this as he had expected a much more lasting period of novelty and excitement. We are both major electronic whores. We love buying new gadgets and are constantly in awe of how advanced we, as a society, have become.

Eg. When we first got the google chromecast, we couldn’t stop raving about it, basically showing off its abilities to anyone and everyone.

Eg. 2 When we first saw the preview for the surface studio, we were both left speechless for a good 5 minutes or so and had a long conversation that night before we slept about how amazing it was! We are also certain that we’re responsible for at least 50% of the views on that preview video because I don’t remember the number of times we’ve shown that preview to people. And by people I don’t mean just family and friends but random people working at shops and restaurants and cafes.

So I distinctly remember him asking me, in the manner that he would when he had something bothering him for days, “Why don’t you seem to like your new phone? You don’t seem very excited by it anymore.”

He was right, I wasn’t. I had “level-upped” two generation of iphones and yet I wasn’t all that impressed. Nothing in my life had radically and visibly improved the way it should have given the gap between the release of the iphone 5 and the iphone 7+ was 2 years or so? A LOT has changed within the past two years and A LOT should have changed.

Two weeks later, I received a gift from Google, the Google pixel. I had absolutely no need for a new phone. In fact, I was probably the worst candidate to like this phone. I had all reasons not to. I was supposed to still be drunk in love with my new iphone 7.

Like a proper social media influencer, I decided that in order for me to be able to give an unbiased (as much as possible) review of the pixel and accurately review it, I would need to actually use it, as my main phone. And I did.

I enjoyed everything about it. And ask anyone around me, I couldn’t stop talking about it and showed it to everyone every chance I got. This was the overdue excitement that should’ve happened with the iphone 7+.

Let’s start with the camera. I am an extremely active user of instagram. I sometimes edit my photos on lightroom but most of the time, let’s be honest, I do not have time for that. I thrive on good natural light and take my photos using my phone and edit them thereafter. Edits can be simple depending on the strength of your phone’s camera as well as the light available during the time the picture was taken. With the pixel, I rarely have to make any drastic edits. Here and there with saturation to go with my feed but really nothing much with the rest.

Also, a lot of the success of instagram photos are about the composition of images. This means cropping and skewing, which requires an image of high resolution. With my old phone, it was impossible! Cropping down to anything less than 70% of the original image basically meant the image was gone, immediately un-instagrammable! With the pixel however, I could crop to 30% of the original image and still have it sharp enough to edit. It’s amazing, really. The image quality also allows me to skew the image, when I accidentally tilt my phone to a certain angle when doing flatlays, without losing resolution.

If I had a penny for the number of times in my life I’ve gotten notified by my iphone for not having enough storage……. And that all-too-familiar process of spending a good hour transferring photos from my iphone into my hard drive…….

Gone are the days! Good riddance! I can’t and I shan’t ever stop raving about the unlimited storage feature of the pixel. It is the most convenient thing in the world and I just never knew that it existed prior to this.

The seamlessness of transferring images from your computer to your phone via google drive and basically having a cloud-based drive to transfer stuff painlessly back and forth is just life-saving for me as a college student/ instagrammer.

I could go on and on really but let’s ask the question we’re all thinking…..

Why didn’t I get the pixel instead of the iphone? It all stemmed from a fear of change. I was so used to the iphone interface that I was so afraid of making the switch, even if it meant for the better, which in this case it was. I thought I would have to re-learn all these things and I was just so used with how everything worked on my iphone. The home button will no longer be at the centre of the phone. It will be odd to look at a screen that’s not an iphone screen. And let me tell you with all honesty that NONE OF IT MATTERED. I was clearly overthinking and I didn’t face any of those problems.

All in all, I am glad I made the switch.

Like I’ve mentioned so many times before, Google has rarely disappointed me. I am a proud owner of the pixel, the chromecast and the google home. I am also typing this entire blog entry on google chrome even though the default browser for my mac is the safari.

Oh and I also got my dad and my sister to get the pixel. They are both currently using their pixels and loving the change from the iphone. Sometimes you just have to be the first one to take the leap of faith and others will follow by example after seeing the positive effects of that leap of faith.

[pkgam]

I Bought A Bike!

No, not a motorcycle. I’d never get any motor vehicle, lol! I’m talking a bicycle.

After many sleepless nights of pondering it and hovering the mouse cursor over the “order” button, I decided that I should give it a shot because I clearly am strongly interested in it and it’ll eat me alive if I don’t try pursuing it. Which one though? Not what I was expecting and probably not one you were expecting. A Forge Sawback 7xx: http://www.target.com/p/forge-sawback-7xx-mountain-27-5-bike/-/A-50232876

You may say: “What the?!?! A department store bike? But you said you didn’t want to go cheapo because of the being unsafe...” I know what I said. But I was surprised by this. It turns out that of all the entry-level bikes out there, the Sawback 5xx and 7xx were consistently given better reviews than stuff like the Trek 820 or Giant Revel. Yeah... How is this? Well it turns out that Forge uses the top entry-level components out in their respective time spans for their vision of making a affordable bike that won’t disappoint in performance. How would they end up at a place like Target then? Because they’re only using Target as a distributor of them in online-only sales. Maybe because they ended up being the cheapest available distributor. Who knows. But basically there’s no shabbily pre-assembled bikes off the rack here. You get it shipped to you and you put it together.

But what made me choose the 7xx specifically? Well, initially I was going to go for the 5xx in 19″ because people were saying it has better components than the 7xx and whatnot, but when I compared the components of their modern iterations, the components are virtually identical aside from a few things. The main one being the derailleur, which is apparently better on the 7xx now. Also, the frame size and larger tires seems to fit me better. With a 32″ inseam, fitting charts generally tell me that 19″-21″ frames are the way to go, but their top tube height... If I were to fall off the seat forward, “things” might get a little painful if my legs aren’t straight enough, lol! This was like that with most entry level bikes I found and the ones I found that didn’t have a higher-than-comfortable top tube were women’s bikes or bikes that got horrid reviews. With the 5xx only coming in 16″ or 19″ with their respective frame sizes scaled to match the sizes, it seemed like that the 16″ would be too small and the “19 would be too big. Thus making the 17.5″ 7xx seem like a better fit. Plus when I tried my ex-uncle’s bike (who is a bit smaller than I am), it felt like I was leaning over an uncomfortable amount and he was fit for his bike and likely got a 19″ or something. So chances are that bigger frames just don’t work for me. BUT I can always up the seat height and change the handlebars around if need be on a smaller bike to sit more upright and still have my legs pedal with the proper bends. As a bonus to the 7xx, tools required to assemble it are included, but details, lol! Hex Keys are lying around the house and pedal wrenches are cheap. So if I would have ended up with a 5xx, I would have likely had to get a pedal wrench that would have made the price equal to the 7xx anyway. Well... maybe. I dunno what parts assemble with what as of this point. But they come with instructions and there’s loads of video tutorials online to get things just right.

Perhaps I should have just gotten fit for a bike myself, but ehhhh... I already have an idea of what I like from trying other bikes and forge bikes are online-exclusives in that no shop sells them. So if I’d go to a shop for a entry-level bike, I’d end up with something that isn’t as durable, safe, etc... as a Forge unless I dropped more money on one with better components. Since I may or may not stick to it, I definitely don’t want to spend a lot of money on it. XD After all, it’s more of an experiment of sorts to see if I can get into it as you would guess. If I do, the world will definitely open up to me (Guess which line that is from. ;D) more and I’ll have a fun new hobby. It’s not too expensive of an experiment either as it came to $327.35. Certainly beats any automobile’s price... :P You could get like 50 of those bikes for the price of the average new car. Probably more. Plus they’d be cheaper to maintain. XD

Though I just hope it doesn’t go to waste. This is one of those sorts of things that you have to go for and see how it goes, which I don’t like because uncertainty makes me uneasy. But I do have a lot of motivation to get into it, namely due to people I know... Long story short, I know people who will drive to a convenience store a block away to pick up a few items rather than walk. XD Yes, they’re those same people who thinks that DDR will give me a heart attack... I couldn’t help but look at them and their lazy habits and I said to myself: I don’t want to be like them, I will not have a motor vehicle dependence of any kind and I don’t want to live a inactive lifestyle.

Keep in mind here that I “only” got a bike here. I didn’t get a strong U-lock or two because I don’t plan on leaving it out of my sight as I go shop or something, at least not at first. Remember, it’s an experiment. :P So I’m not going to invest in a ton of things I may or may not even use. I’ll just keep it with me or in the house at all times. The best locks can always be angle-grinded anyway meaning there’s no perfect lock (Oh and yes I know how to lock up a bike: Get the tires, frame, seat and handlebars secured to an object strongly secured to the ground, even if you have to temporarily disassemble your bike to get them all to fit in the lock. Really the more you lock up the better, but with so many easily removable parts... there’s a practical limit. :P). So really the best “lock” is supervision, lol! Locks are only there to buy you time because if someone wants to steal it, given enough unsupervised time, they will. This goes with cars too as people use coat hangers between the window and door to unlock, hotwire them and drive away. Not that bike theft is huge here or something as I never heard of one in my lifetime due to here being an overly car-centric city (I’m sure there are, but I’ve seen unattended, unlocked bicycles not even be glanced at because unfortunately people here prefer to drive than bike.). I may pick up a tire patch kit, spare tube and portable pump though just in case a flat happens. All of which is pretty cheap of course. But yeah, we’ll see how things go. I could also cancel the order as of the date of this post in case I chicken out... but we’ll see. I only PLACED the order, strategically on a weekend too because processing doesn’t happen then which gives me more time to cancel if I want to.

Thanks for reading and have a good one!