#i have even been known to like those qualities as sported by other people!

[mirkhammett]

champagne coast / kirk

there’s a specific vibe i went for in this, and i don’t know if i manage to express it properly but..those coming of age movie parties with jeff buckley in the soundtrack ^.^ you get me?? this is my first time trying to write something longer than 400 words in a looong while, so pls bare with me and my clusters of infinite mistakes lol

reblogs, likes, comments and asks are all highly appreciated! if this gets some interactions i may do a part 2 with..fun stuff wink wink!! i also apologise for how rushed the ending is, but i gave up lol

summary: you meet a cute guitarist at a party, that’s about it ^.^

word count; 4.2k

warnings; mentions of drugs, smoking (tobacco+marijuana, reader+kirk smoke cigs)

i have not proofread this yet so expect mistakes!!

the summer breeze is discouraging. desolate plants are surviving just barely under the malicious sun, like a record that just keeps on playing; the aftermath of the music, the seconds of muffled silence as the vinyl spins effortlessly, and you know you should just get up and remove the stylus, because the impracticalness of such a simple act of futility, could end up with a damaged record. and no one wants a damaged record.

there’s often a local yearn for the heat, summer always seeming too far away in winter, as the miserable humidity is replaced with a sharp winter, ice flakes cutting like blades, which to some, would be considered worse. and to this sum, the summer breeze may be a blessing.

everything about this place could be deemed as overstimulating. from the immense mass of people, all in garments that would never live to see the day in a public place, with such little material- could these things really be considered as clothes? and judging by the majority of party-goers, your opinion would be considered unpopular.

the concrete is hot to touch- the unsteady porch not doing much to help. it’s slightly better than inside the house, though.

it isn’t too big, it’s just too small. a perfectly adequate residence for someone in their mid 20s to occupy, and it looks it too. the entryway of the house is not only filled with coats and others of the sort, but all 4 of the cream coloured walls are adorned in posters. some are easily known- you recognise one in particular as a promotional poster for a new thrash band, the logo on the corner signifying that whoever owns this, got it fresh from a record store window.

entering though the hallway into the kitchen felt like a treacherous task for you, under the oppressive temperatures. sporting this thin sweater may have not been the right choice, you criticise.

there’s a table in the kitchen. well, the remains of a table. empty beer cans are scattered across, and a half full bowl of punch sits, patiently waiting for its next victim to intoxicate with its high levels of ethanol, and god knows what else. you pondered if fresh orange juice was used, or artificial.

you feel their eyes on you before you see it. and then a hands reaching out to you. skinny, nimble fingers connected to a tanned wrist, paired with a couple dainty, gold, probably fake, bracelets. and that tanned wrist connects to an equally tan body, (of course.)

you look at her quizzically. she’s got flowing hair, brown ribbons of curl that shone with an orange tint under the shitty, dingy lamp illuminating the cramped room. and then you gazed up at her again.

do you know her? does she know you?

staring unblinkingly at her, you realise, is probably very much off putting. it’s hard to take kindness from strangers, well, for most people. it’s even harder to tell if that kindness is genuine. you believe in the idea, quality, or quantity. at least that’s what you tell yourself- and it maybe the whole reason you ended up in this predicament.

she’s got a man on her arm. he’s tall, well, he’s taller than both you, and her. his long, blonde hair is looking a little ratty, and you know she must have thought the same too. you can also tell he’s been trying to grow out a ‘horse-shoe’ moustache, judging by the minor prickles of hair, and the subtle shaping.

he’s looking at you like a guard dog- and his expression is fully straight. you can’t tell if he’s one of those people, that show a hard exterior, but really, is the complete opposite, or, if he is really a dick and is gonna punch you if you stare any longer. choosing a safe option, you glance back at her.

“here,” she nudges you again. oh, she’s got a cup. it’s one of those cheap, red plastic cups you always see in the movies- the frat party ones. her presence is warm. she smiles warmly. is that a thing?

“get yourself a drink.” and then she’s opening up the palm of your hand, and tightening your fingers around the plastic rim.

you hum in surprise. it’s not every day a complete stranger is nice to you. infact, you can only count one specific time where this happened before. the one time that led to you coming to this party, through the kindness of a once mutual, now, you felt comfortable enough to consider, just a friend.

“oh! thank you.” you give the best, closed mouth wide smile you can, though it seems more like a grimace.

she doesn’t care. they’re already gone.

the next room is slightly more interesting than the last, a blue strobe light left in the corner. thought it’s not glowing in multi colours like it should be, instead it’s just illuminating the room, which could be the antithesis of something spacious, in a pale blue hue. it’s reflecting off onto an old, worn leather couch with multiple holes, which you can only assume are from cigarette stubs.

the whole house has some sort of retro style, which you appreciate.

the summer breeze, once discouraging, now borderlining on something sinister. could the sun really have malicious intent? or is the world just hell bent against you?- with your fashion choices not accommodated to the ever changing weather.

you pass a couple of groups- they don’t look older than you, though they don’t look younger. but the bodies on bodies is all too much to handle, when everyone’s body temperature has accumulated into one big cacophony, a spell for disaster.

every thing was getting too much.

the grandfather clock standing proud, ticking in a futile rhythm, back and forth, on and off, a constant reminder of the stench of sweat covered bodies and the metallic aroma of almost empty cans of beer, for the sticky residue left behind, which had escaped out of one too many discarded cans, and seeped into possibly every material in this cramped hole of a living space. the longer this party would go on, the harder it would be to call this room a living space. scrap that, this is an un-liveable space.

the atmosphere was fine. the people were fine. everything was fine minding it’s own, but together, seeming like a recipe for a symphony of destruction.

luckily for you, there was an out.

big wooden doors, with bigger glass panels, providing the only symbol of a once eloquent residence. the whole house was, well, not modern, but in a sense it didn’t carry this vintage-ness; like the decorations of choice did- so it was a nice touch. at least you thought.

and those big wooden doors, led you to your freedom, or in other words, the patio.

upon first examination, the garden was split into two groups. the outdoor couch sitting area, which provided just as many cigarette burns as the excuse of a couch inside, but longer, presenting itself in an ‘L’ shape. and on this couch, sprawled out were a group of people, all comfortable in very, odd? positions. wait, on a different thought, not all.

he was very pretty from a first glance, his chocolate curls fading into something more, like black ribbons of coal, though they shone with a red tinge under the harsh glow from the ongoing sunset.

you never stopped to notice the sunset.

but he looked almost rigid. he seemed reserved. he seemed different. it was like he had purposely tried to squeeze himself down the cracks of the sofa, for it to swallow him whole. but then again, he didn’t seem anxious.

he held a joint between nimble fingers. from a distance, you could make out the red rashes lining them, small bloody scars, in such a recognisable pattern that you just knew all too well, he had to play guitar. often. he was having trouble smoking it, though. intimate breaths of wind cascaded his locks to cover his pretty features, sticking to his chapped lips as he brought up the blunt and examined, close and personal.

you pondered if maybe, just maybe, he was like you too. practically a stranger to this new world before your eyes, lacking the confidence to do anything to change it. sure, you were confident in yourself, there was no reason for you not to be. just, in social situations like this, it would tend to falter.

oh, wait. no, you take it back.

the guard dog from before-hand sits tall beside the curly brunette. he seems to be ranting about something. the nice girls not by his side anymore. you wonder if anything happened between them.

the ratty blonde sported a goofy grin. so you were right. a labrador in disguise. you stole a few more glances, before continuing down your trail.

you didn’t think you’d fit into other group either. this was was more, energetic, a pile of sweaty messes, a cheap speaker blasting heavy metal, with a crispness to the speaker that could never be recreated with a new one, nor the sense of comfort that comes with it. something worn down, worn with love, like a jacket, peeling at the seams. a jacket that’s been well loved by someone, despite its flaws.

it was hard to concentrate on your thoughts and breathe pure air properly with the booming deathly melodie’s of ozzy osbourne blasting, the bass managing to shake a loose rope swing hanging from an old oak tree. you thought it must’ve been a gentle reminder of childhood.

the path continued to trail on, the melancholic rock dying it by a couple slight octaves. then it ended. a large, unsteady fence stood tall, and not very proud. a bench resided, with 2 more oak trees, one on each side, in a way to protect the bench, preserve the wood from heavy sunlight.

the bench wasn’t the most comfortable, but it served for what it could. it was obviously aged down through the years, so really, you couldn’t complain.

the view was pretty. the sun going down, with all these people enjoying themselves, it was a gorgeous sight. though it was funny you still hadn’t wandered into the small minority you knew yet. though you were growing impatient under this blanket of loneliness, itching for something that would burn, something to exhale.

the pocket of your worn jeans were loose- loose enough to know that if something wanted to fall out, by all means it could. and now, after futile attempts to find your lighter, you prayed to anyone that would listen, please say i haven’t lost it.

but alas, the gods still weren’t on your side. maybe it was something in the air, which bubbled up into a fit of internal rage, your three-quarters empty pack providing a strong sense of tobacco, laying lifeless in your rigid lap.

“need a light?”

he walked up awkwardly, intertwining his hands together. his blunt was gone, whether he had finished it himself or passed it on, you didn’t know. he smiled warmly, and if you blinked you would’ve missed it.

and all of a sudden the unbearable heat was back, sending a tinge to yours cheeks, feeling like being trapped inside a car under the scorching sun- but he didn’t look affected by the heat, in his black button up (half un-buttoned), infact, he looked angelic under the hues of reds, purples, and yellows, and whatever else fit into the mix.

he seemed nice; nice enough, to even suggest such an offer to a stranger.

“please.” you mumbled, and he warmly reached his hand out, a battered, black lighter, one of the cheap ones from the convenience stores, clasped loosely. he wiggled his fingers. revealing the lighter to your gaze, he emitted that same, goofy smile, only now revealing his crooked pearls.

he sat down on the bench.

“you don’t know many people here, huh?” he questioned. though his voice wasn’t judgy, nor threatening.

well, it’s great that your efforts to stay on the down low went out the door. it’s even greater to know that people have noticed your outstanding loneliness.

“is it that obvious?”

he stifled a laugh, shrugging slightly, sporting a wide grin. “that’s okay,” he muttered. “you know, i don’t know many either.”

the reality seemed embarrassing, and with anyone else, you would never, on your own life, admit it. but somehow, in this moment, everything was different.

he fixed his posture, resting his hands in his lap, his head turned towards you. you pursed your lips, a small smile gracing. he looked down to your lap, cigarette still in your hand, and signalled for you to raise it.

you quickly caught on, assuming he would just hand you the lighter after you placed the cigarette between your lips. he did not.

instead he leaned in closer, bringing one hand to cover one side of the cigarette, the other to light it up effortlessly. oh, i guess that works too.

you took a puff, the inhale longer than the exhale, the smoke a delicious burn in your lungs. resting the cigarette between 2 nimble fingers, you bit your chapped lip.

“i’m kirk, by the way.”

“hi kirk,” you grinned, and told him your name. he grinned back.

he fiddled with his fingers, cracking his knuckles with expertise. and then he points at your shirt. “i like fleetwood mac, too.”

hanging with kirk wasn’t so bad. actually it wasn’t bad, not at all. somehow minutes turned into shorter minutes, 60 seconds seeming to pass all too quick. and those minutes were quickly consumed by a larger number, a black hole that could be called hours.

the night air had turned chilly, the effects of a bipolar summer very clear. the arrival of goosebumps took place, and so did a great warmth, the crackle of a fire pit, and the smell of fresh wood, the aroma of smoke. legs now touching one another’s as a multitude of different people sat around in criss-cross positions.

but that wasn’t where you found yourself.

sitting in the passenger seat of his run down black 70s capri, a heavy scent of cologne mixed with a faint essence of weed, hanging lowly, stuck into the leather seats. the key clattered as he pushed it into the lock, the engine starting up with a fierce roar.

a conversation about music had somehow led you here, sitting almost shyly in his car, legs folded upon one another. it all started with a singular comment about fleetwood mac, and in a matter of minutes you found yourself immersed in conversation, somehow sitting close together than you had before, the heat of his breath radiating closely as he enthusiastically ranted about led zeppelin IV. and then some more, about who he believed to be his biggest inspiration, jimi hendrix.

oh yeah, you learnt he plays guitar too.

and with a declaration that he was hungry, sported with his reddened eyes, you were off. well, you were never really given the choice. your hand grasped tightly in his, excitedly taken back through the garden, through the shitty cramped living space, (and him accidentally walking into the smaller couch), back through the kitchen with bottles now empty, red plastic cups now scattered, through to the entry way. with that same, sweet thrash poster now hanging on.

and as the car roared up, so did the symphonies of rolling stones, because you can’t always get what you want.

“so the blonde one, he’s your friend?”

the melody of the rolling stones, switching to the doors, a mix-tape he probably burnt himself, disrupted. god bless jim morrison.

he raised a brow, though still looking at the road ahead, answering quizzically. “which blonde one?”

you bit back a smile. “the scary blonde one, with long hair. and the pretty girlfriend.”

this caused kirk to grin, shaking his head slightly to stop his hair from disrupting his view of the darkened roads. the streetlights didn’t go much to help accommodate pedestrians, nor drivers. the headlights of his vintage vehicle were slightly darker than the average, but he seemed used to it.

“ah, james. he’s my bandmate. scary, no, long hair, yes, girlfriend, no. he doesn’t do girlfriends,” he hummed lowly. “he’s one of my bestfriends.” james. you wondered if he was still with the girl you earlier assumed to be his girlfriend.

and then you sat in silence for maybe 30 seconds, maybe a full minute, pondering your next words. he didn’t seem to mind, waiting just slightly impatiently for the red light to turn green and give the get go. he rolled down the window.

“do you do girlfriends?” you asked suddenly. the longer it took for him to form a response, the more you regretted ever asking. maybe that was too forward for a guy you hadn’t even known for a full day. but then you could argue that him taking you out for dinner was even worse.

he was caught off guard, quickly masking his suprise. “i…don’t know,” he spun the wheel with skill as he turned left into a parking lot of a 50s presenting dinner, sporting a glowing red sign, walls painted once white now a light yellow. he stopped the car as he pulled into a parking spot, twisting the keys. the engine abruptly stopped, and so did the music. and then he turned to look at you, with a small smile. “do you do boyfriends?” and that was when you finally made eye contact.

shrugging slightly, you looked from his eyes to your lap, and back up to his eyes again. “i don’t know.”

his grin widened, and you return the gesture.

the gleaming lights of the diner held a stark contrast to the gloomy sky, the current time being in the early hours of the morning very obvious- and in a couple hours you’d start to hear the birds cheep and the sky lighten, and determine it time for bed.

he led you into the diner, holding the door open for you like a gentleman, the little bell on top of the door chiming in recognition of your arrival.

and from there he traveled with experience of the 24-hour diner, to a booth hidden in the corner, though still visible under the cream glare of the flickering lights; almost too visible, you thought, the brightness of the lights already forming a subtle headache in the back of your mind. the two comforts of the booth were separated with a nimble oak wood table, the sturdiness of it which had definitely gone down in its many years of occupying this place.

he grabs two menus before sitting down on one side of the booth, and you follow, sitting down on the other. he hands you one menu, and opens his own.

“i want a milkshake.” he murmurs, his eyes still scanning over the menu. you lean over the table, your menu left unopened, shifting slightly to examine the contents of drinks he was looking at.

“which flavour?” you question, slumping back into your seat.

“dunno,” he puts the menu down, looking up at you. “what flavour do you want?”

his eye contact is almost too much to handle, causing you to look back down at your hands. he doesn’t comment on it, that is if he ever even noticed the slight tint of blush on your cheeks.

“vanilla.” throughout the options of chocolate, strawberry, and banana, there’s a clear winner.

“then that’s what we’ll get.” he smiles, his red hued eyes crinkling at the corners as he grins. you bite the side of your lip, suppressing a grin, sporting a one sided, shy smile as you try to resettle your composure.

you open the menu, trying to distract yourself from the flush on your cheeks and the man sitting infront of you. his curls drop down as he tries to push them out of his face, watching you almost shyly.

“what are you gonna get?” you voice, finally looking up from the menu.

he tucks his black coils behind his ears. “the burger,” and then leans down slightly, his elbows making contact with the table, his eyes still on you. “do you wanna share?”

you nod, grinning widely. “okay, we’ll share.”

the diner lights flicker again, as well as the chime of the door, the slight rush of wind causing an appreciate breeze. there’s an empty coffee cup on the bar side, and an imprint in a red stool.

adorned in a teal coloured uniform, a tired, and pissed, (probably a college student), waitress takes your order. she doesn’t bother to put on a fake persona, and you don’t blame her. infact, you almost feel sorry that her nap in the staff room was cut short, by the puffiness of her eyes. as for kirk, he doesn’t even bat an eye at her as you order politely, his eyes still fixtated on you.

and in mere minutes the food arrives, a vanilla milkshake with a candied red cherry on top already in your grasp. kirk has taken to the task of trying to cut the burger evenly into 2 pieces, through frowns when he’s cut one slice bigger than the other. you take the smaller piece, knowing the effects of weed on your hunger. when he realises this, he pouts. “i’m not that hungry,” you explain, taking your first bite.

he pushes the fries further towards you. they’re in a wooden tray, with a tissue adorned with patterns of red and white squares underneath. you chew throughly before swallowing, setting the burger back down on the plate.

he reaches out for a fry, surprising you when he reaches even further towards you, bringing the fry up to your mouth. you take it, giggling.

while you chew on the fry with one hand, you pick up the milkshake with the other and bring the straw to his mouth, mimicking his previous movements. he smiles widely as he takes down a big gulp, laughing through his closed mouth. “wait, that’s so good.”

“i know!” you exclaim, taking a couple of salty fries from the bunch.

you dip a handful of fries into the milkshake, and he grimaces. “that’s criminal!”

you roll your eyes, giggling. “no it’s not,” you dip another one in. “you just don’t have taste.” he finishes his part of the burger ravenously, and you push the plate with your half eaten burger towards him.

“are you sure?” he questions, looking for any signs of unsureness on your face.

“only if i can have the cherry.” you bargain.

“deal,” he picks the cherry off from the top of the milkshake, wiping the whipped cream off from it with his finger, then bringing his finger to his mouth. he reaches out to give you the cherry. “here you go, m’lady.”

you let out another high pitched laugh, bringing the cherry to your plump lips and nibbling on the stem. the waitress cringes at the sound, leaning her head down in her hands and closing her eyes. you pity her.

kirk finishes the burger quickly, his next mission being reaching out for the fries. you’re not sure if he’s just got the munchies, or if he’s also even eaten today.

and soon enough, you’re flopping back into your seat, empty dishes covering the table. kirk is leaning towards you, smiling softly. you yawn, covering your face with a soft hand.

“you tired?” he murmurs, tilting his head as he smiles sweetly. you make a quiet sound, similar to a hum, and his smile grows. “okay,” he reaches over the table for your hand. “let me take you home.”

and then once again, your back in his passenger seat, the smell of cologne and marijuana now comforting. he puts the key in as softly as he can, and the second the car roars to life he takes it to himself to turn the radio down to the lowest level, looking over at you. you’re slumped in the seat, your head towards the window. he just grins.

the sky isn’t so dark anymore, a greyish dark blue, with a slint orange before sunrise. “i’m gonna need you to give me directions, ‘mkay?” he pulls out of the car park as you respond quietly, giving him the directions.

a few minutes into the ride, you realise he’s going miles below the speed limit, to keep the car steady, and not pull you out of your sleepy state. he’s humming along to the radio, his finger tapping the wheel at every beat.

trees pass in a flash, so do streetlights and benches, sets of three drains, and a couple single drains too.

then time flashes again and he’s pulling up outside your apartment, already outside the passenger door and beating you to open it. he walks you to the doorway of the building, stopping and playing with his hands.

you look up at him, smiling shyly. he does the same. “thank you for tonight, kirk,” you hesitantly open the building door. “do you wanna, maybe, do this again?”

“o-of course. i’d love to.” if you blinked, you would’ve missed the slight flush tinting his cheeks, rushing down into his neck and shoulders. he fumbles in his pocket for a piece of ripped newspaper and a pen, scribbling down his home phone number in messy writing, and if it was anything but numbers you’d have a hard time reading it. “call me, okay?”

“okay.” you grin softly, stepping into the doorway.

he backs up, smiling as he waves you off. “okay.”

and then the door shuts.

[rikeijo]

Today's translation #617

Newtype 01/2017, Otsuka Manabu interview

Part 1.

-- Please tell us about the circumstances, in which this project started moving?

Otsuka: I first got to know about this project, when I was told about it by the Director, Yamamoto Sayo, when we were working together on a different project. At first, I was very uncertain, if I and the studio have enough power to keep up with Yamamoto Director's TV series, because she always has been known as being very particular about quality. But inspired by the charming characters created by Kubo (Mitsurou)-san that I saw later, and Yamamoto Director insatiable love for figure skating, I decided 'let's try to do it!" and accepted the offer to work on this project.

-- When was it that you started to be sure that this project would be fine?

Otsuka: Maybe it wasn't that I was 'sure', but after we showed the second PV at 'TV Asahi Natsu Matsuri' event, I was able to think that I would trust Yamamoto Director's intuition and just run with what she feels is right. The last cut in that PV was the scene, where Victor puts his finger on Yuuri's lip and the two look at each other. When I saw it for the first time, I thought "[if we are going to show this scene in the PV] won't men not want to watch the show?" and I was considering removing that one scene from the PV. But I've talked about it with female staff members, who thought it would be a shame to not include it and I decided 'Let's [with force] put it in then!". People at the 'TV Asahi Natsu Matsuri' event venue cheered when that scene was shown. In this show, there is a lot of things that my senses did not cover, but at that time, I was able to think that [working on the project] I would realize all those ideas that Yamamoto Director and Kubo-san come up with without fear.

[Notes: It's really interesting how in almost all his interviews, Otsuka mentions this idea that including in an anime what your average otaku perceives as 'fujoshi fan-service scenes' (regardless of the creator's intentions - like, in even in YoI, a huge number of people in Jp fandom still sees those scenes as nothing more but fan-service, because that's the default) will give the anime reputation of pandering to fujoshis, and men (anybody other than fujoshis really) simply won't even consider it worth checking out. Otsuka doesn't even try to hide it here or in his other interviews, and like I've mentioned in the past, the way they were promoting Yurio so much, when Otsuka himself was claiming that thanks to Yurio, men could watch the show and enjoy it, shows, imo, what was the committee's real problem with YoI and why it may seem like they fumbled the bag and failed to capitalize on its potential so much (very little official side content, very few Y&V official arts etc...) - they wanted YoI to not be a 'fujoshi-pandering anime', but 'a serious sport anime for everyone'.]

[suffarustuffaru]

The fanbase is scaring me, the redesigns brought up some weird people that are REALLY passionate about Liliana being half naked

Like theres a whole war going on on twitter rn and the poor character designer got harassed

My problem is with the amount of people upset with this, like i knew we had a bunch of pedos around because of the way tappei writes the girls, but damn i didnt think there were this many of them 💀

yes ive heard about that....... im answering your ask late oops haah but i hope the situations a Bit better..... the toxic parts of this fandom give me a headache but my usual motto is to stay off twitter, touch grass, ignore people, and then hold onto my own viewpoints unless proven wrong alsjdflsdj but like. yeah this fandom is a bit tough to stay in when it comes to certain circles (for example the amount of people low quality shitposting / ranting about the fandom or whatever on rezero ao3 atm in the past days/weeks is. mm. interesting). not my first time being in larger fandoms that make you sometimes feel like youre fighting in the trenches (you could name off a few big fandoms notorious for being toxic that date back to like 2016 and odds are ive been in a couple lajdlf) but yeah seeing people complain about liliana and capella's designs and then overly fixate on emilia's boobs when these three characters have more to bring to the table than just that and theres lots and lots of good things to say about the s3 trailer and their designs..... mm. yeah. im squinting hard at a few of the things ive heard on that. but anyway!!

like the new designs are an Improvement. In General. like ok, as a boob haver myself ("boob haver" is the funniest phrase to me alsdjfls but it is true nonetheless, i am one) i do not give a shit about emilias larger boobs like ok?? her boobs are bigger?? she is still my fav ever and sometimes it just happens when youre still a growing teen/young adult and emilias back to her more revealing main outfit when she wore a different outfit in s2 so the difference in chest size is really not that much. but liliana and capella? those are Improved designs. i think ive talked abt the treatment of underage characters / characters who appear underage on my blog before (and i definitely couldve worded myself better then but i stand behind the fact that some of the stuff otsuka and tappei do regarding this in rezero is just Unnecessary).

could designs like emilia's still be improved on in other ways? yeah 100%, just in the sense that there could probably be changed a bit to fit her slightly more timid and soft spoken personality. or you could take different directions on it in general if you wanted. ive seen some great redesigns of her main outfit!! though her main outfit in of itself is pretty nice to look at imo and its iconic and well-known for a reason. im of the personal opinion that i wish it was a little less revealing in the same vein that her s2 main outfit was (i like that outfit a lot!!) but its still a really solid design overall.

i had some faith after seeing the anime designers fix up typhoon's original design to be More Appropriate, and i love how the essence of liliana and capella's designs were kept the same. like its not just that theyre a little less revealing (and even then, theyre both still showing a lot of skin!!! which is good!!! i like the improvement while keeping the main stuff the same), but stuff like liliana's pants aren't transparent (probably to make it easier to animate?) and the yellow/orange gradient in capella's hair looks great!! they also both look more like grown women which is a bonus. unless youre Weird about this shit which is unfortunately a small percentage of the rezero community. like you cant win with those sort of people ig, bc capella's boobs are bigger too ljasdlfj youd think that win more people over.

also i appreciate capella's sports bra bc unlike elsa's outfit it Actually looks like it's supporting her chest. if youre someone with boobs and you dont have a flat chest, youre gonna need support when being active or itll Hurt. and elsa Does Not have proper chest support okay. ill forever wince remembering elsa's design in that sense HAH....

anyway but i digress. i got no clue what to do with toxic people in fandoms despite spending a lot of time lurking in large fandoms with loud toxic people haah.... its hard to do much about it especially with increasingly declining media literacy rates everywhere.... the notorious misogyny/homophobia/etc that can happen sometimes in anime communities.... that sort of thing. i kinda just avoid it when it comes to rezero in specific, or briefly talk about it on here, or rant about it to myself in my head or chat with pals about it in private if it really frustrates me that much!! and id say im a pretty patient person hah... im not frustrated often. and the fandom is not all weird people of course and i can attest to that as ive chatted with a lot of people here... ive also seen a lot of people leave due to the fandom's Issues which is. totally fair tbh.

and i think rezero is often a "baby's first fandom" so to speak... i dont mean that in a bad way of course but its more like its the first exposure to fandom and fandom etiquette and fic etiquette and that sort of thing when it comes to english circles. or at least its a pattern ive noticed, so my theory is that that occasionally that combines with toxic fans and then you get a few people complaining about the community and how bad our fics are on rezero ao3 ig lajdlfjsdlf. which is false by the way :<< and an annoying misuse of ao3 as a free creative archive :<<

but ultimately i hope the rezero character designer's alright (and honestly theyve done super super great work - like the anime Did Not need to give emilia a bajillion outfits and go above and beyond with improving liliana, capella, giving the suwens and their hometown a whole unique aesthetic, etc). and also while i have stuff to criticize with otsuka and tappei... and the toxic parts of the fandom hah... i still enjoy rezero apart from that and the uproar with the designs has not chipped away at me too much!! ive been in this fandom long enough i guess lmao i just roll with punches at this point T^T but i also just try to look on the bright side a lot in general so ;-;;;

these are the sorts of things i like to be aware about but i dont like to get myself super involved with it (since itll probably make it worse and/or make me stressed for no good reason lmfaoo) and i wont let it enjoy the parts of rezero that i do enjoy a lot (which is to say like. the other 98% of rezero hah). so. getting off twitter is the biggest godsend i promise lajdlsfj.

but anyway!! yeah i dont have much organized thoughts on all of this, this is just me rambling my feelings on it. hope this all makes sense anon <3

[sweetnsour1]

12:18

Fluff, Bakugou x g/n reader

Happy Halloween🖤

“Y/n…I don’t think he’s gonna’ pop out of the fridge.” You blinked away the heavy glare from your face, wondering how long you had been making the beer sweat as you reached for a cold one.

“Hmm…no idea who you’re talking about.”

“Oh really?” Her words were half sung, carrying the unmistakable melody of you’re-a-fucking-liar.

You stayed silent, feeling relieved when Mina dropped it. She was more interested in spinning around the kitchen in search of a bottle opener. You leaned back, careful to not dent the papier-mâché gauntlets you were sporting. The counter would’ve dug into the small of your back if the thick belt of your costume were placed any lower. You looked down the orange and black covering your body.

“Will you stop makin’ faces? Although….it does kinda complete the look.” You took a sip of your beer in reply, laughing when she finally realized they were twist off caps.

“This was such a dumb idea.”

“Hey! It was my super cute idea. Everyone else is having fun wearing each other’s OG hero costumes.” You felt a pull on your mask, turning to glare at the pink finger that had flicked the explosive accessories attached to them. “You’re just mad you had to dress as him.” She booped your nose, preemptively transitioning your glare to a laugh.

“Ugh, sorry. This costume just turns me into such an asshole.”

“Hmm, maybe that’s true for Bakugou too.”

“Nah, he’s still an asshole eight costumes later.”

“You keepin’ track, huh?”

“Oh, shut up. It came up when I had to search for pics of this stupid thing.”

“I see. So how many hours did you spend staring at pictures of the man you allegedly hate?”

“Oh my god. You’re impossible.” You waited for your laughter to stop before taking another long drink. “I don’t hate Bakugou. I just said he’s an asshole.”

“I think you like him.” Mina danced out of the way, dodging most of the beer you accidentally sprayed her way.

“The fuck? That’s the stupidest shit I’ve ever heard.”

“Man, you really do sound just like him.” She was faster this time as she leapt out of your gauntlets reach.

“You are such a brat…raccoon eyes.” You stuck out your tongue, but followed her out of the kitchen.

She didn’t understand. Mina was lucky, she’d gotten Red Riot in the blind draw. She had just dug through Kirishima’s closet and was now wearing most of his original costume. You, on the other hand, wouldn’t be caught dead asking Dynamight for a fucking favor. Although, you had regretted the time you’d spent looking at stupid fan pages after work, trying to find any content showing his high school hero work. The quantity hadn’t really been an issue, but the quality was…unexpected?

You hadn’t meant to land on so many sites thirsting after the man that pissed you off every day. You hadn’t even known until a couple weeks ago, how many people would kill to be in the Bakugou proximity you were forced into daily. They would love to be shouldered away from the coffee pot as he stomped through the break room, lecturing you about being a sleep deprived idiot. They’d find a deeper reason for why he was such a condescending prick when you forgot to put something in your report…or why he even felt the need to check your reports in the fucking first place. He wasn’t even your superior…much less your boss. They would have spent the last week wondering what it would be like to kiss him every time his lips parted into that annoying shitty smirk of his. But you…you’d never think those things.

You drained your beer, almost knocking yourself in the face with your costume when you swiped the back of your hand across your lips. You wouldn’t let yourself think those things. That’d be too…you grabbed another drink from the bucket of ice on the table. Mina was so wrong, and you knew exactly how to prove it.

“Hey, so that American guy we borrowed got Deku in the draw right?” You scanned the room, quickly spotting the bright green ears.

“Yea, but he-“ She smiled when she caught onto your line of sight. “Why? You think he looks good in it?” You rolled your eyes, passing her your drink.

“I don’t know if anyone looks good in a bright green rabbit onesie, but I’ll go check.”

You tried not to get distracted while you crossed the room, but Mina’s party idea had been really fucking cute. It was fun seeing everyone dressed as everyone. You only nodded to anyone trying to catch your attention. You were on a mission. And yet, you couldn’t stop thinking of the report you’d submitted today. The one Bakugou hadn’t read because he had left early. It was stupid. You were angry every time he showed up in your doorway with a report he hadn’t been given. And yet, you were even angrier today when he hadn’t. Maybe those fans online would know…have a headcanon. You frowned, stomping the rest of the way to the Deku two heads taller than you were.

The American hero looked like he might’ve gotten carried away with the thickness of the boots or something. You didn’t remember him being so fucking tall. You noticed his mask was down as the beer fell back to his side. Perfect…just go for it. It was a party, right? You tapped the green back of the costume, feeling a twinge of jealousy at how much more soft and comfortable it seemed compared to yours. When he turned, you grabbed the front, tugging him down to meet your lips. Take that, Mina. Someone who liked Bakugou wouldn’t have done that. You squirmed when a heavy hand on the back of your head kept you from pulling away. You finally broke free from him.

“The fuck are you-“ Red eyes silenced you. Your mouth was left open and useless as he skirted his gaze down and up your body.

“Tryna get a job as my sidekick?” Your mouth snapped shut. You knew you probably did look just like him as you glared and fucking spun on your heel, ready to stomp away. He was just such-

You couldn��t move further. He had a hold of your arm above the gauntlet. You waited to be yanked backwards for an explanation, but he shifted himself around instead, releasing your arm when he stood in front of you.

“Calm down, Dynamight.”

“It’s actually Great Explosion Murder God Dynamight.” You tried to keep snarling, but it was too hard not to laugh halfway through the name. There’s no way you’d have been able to keep glaring anyway…not when he was smiling at you like that.

“Sorry, a nerd should know better.” He swatted at his green ears, making you…giggle? You caught pink and red movement across the room. This really wasn’t the show you’d expected to give Mina. He grabbed at your cheeks, pulling your gaze back to meet his. “Ya look good.” You swatted his hands away as soon as your brain stopped being so sluggish.

“I always look good.”

“Yea…you do.” You were almost too distracted by the darkening of his eyes to notice his arm snake around your waist. You stumbled into his chest when he pulled you, instinctively moving your hands up to brace the impact. “So what am I gonna have to do to get another kiss?” You were halfway ready to explain your mistake when you felt it. The not so steady beating beneath your fingertips. He was-

You looked back into red, confirming your suspicion. For once, he wasn’t making things difficult. He made it easy. Easy to see the way his eyes darted down to your mouth before staying firmly focused on your gaze. Easy to feel the way he tightened his grip. Easy to hear the way his voice softened around your name when you didn’t answer. He was nervous. You smiled, but didn’t move any closer. Fuck it.

“Ya just gotta ask, ya fuckin’ nerd.”

a/n obviously Katsuki lost a bet with the bakusquad that got him stuffed into a rabbit

This story was inspired by an ask sent in by the lovely @cheezitwh0re

Masterlist

[jujutsukgojo]

Heat of the island

“How’d he die, (Y/n)?” Katsuki asks for the last time.

The last time for all of them.

There is something in the air. A sharpness to the quality that just doesn’t sit right. It is past tension and disbelief. Whatever it is, it’s off-putting and confusing. Something isn’t right and you may be the only one to notice it.

And that’s terrifying being among heroes.   

A/N: i dont own bnha. tried to edit this the best i could. it's not the best but it'll work tw: plane crash, minor character death, allergies. reader x deku, reader x shouto

“Is everyone clear on the proper procedure?” You ask with your most professional voice.   

“She’s acting like she doesn’t know us.” You point to the “whisperers” who are huddled together rather than listening to your instruction. “I do know you unfortunately, which is why I’m asking if you understand.”   

 Kaminari cackles and Kirishima rubs the back of his neck and mutters an apology. Mina jumps up with Ochako and Tsu, singing a tune about a fabulous vacation. Momo smiles sweetly and encourages it. It’s a wonder how they got through school like this, honestly.   

Rolling your eyes, you go to the cockpit. Normally, you would take one of your bigger aircrafts when sporting this many people. It's just Ol’ Betty, your beautiful creation, is your flight of choice today. She wanted to fly again since it’s been a hot minute.    

When you were a student in U.A., you worked tirelessly on a plane. A plane that would be safe, light, and secure. One built for speed and is amphibious too. No matter how many times Power Loader told you to make anything other than Betty, and how people made fun of her look, you were determined to finish her. Her mixed pieces of old junk metal, mix matched parts and seats, made her unique and familiar.    

  Finally, she was born in the nick of time. Right when Shigaraki attacked U.A. and the defenses crashed, it was you who gathered people into Betty and her attachments. She took off like lightning to Shitesku. It was your own version of heroism. Perhaps this is why these heroes trust you so much with Betty. Although she was made by your own hands, she is the best of the best. No other plane was up for the job to transport so many people yet there you and Betty were, ready, willing, and able.    

  You sit down and nod to your co-pilot, Jay. The plane comes to life and drives. Seconds later, she’s in the air she was made for.    

“You sure are eating a lot of those.” Jay continues to eat his fifth bag of peanuts. “They’re good.” 

“Honey roasted?” You ask.    

“How’d you know?” You side eye him. “’Cause they’re mine punk, slow down on them.”   

Jay smacks his lips and continues to eat them with one hand. You’ve known Jay since before you got your license. He was in General Studies, wanting to be a pilot. He sought you out for you to train him. Ever since then, he’s been your right hand. Jay was taking notes on how to create a Betty of his own, even though he criticized every little thing you did. To this day you want to smack the shit out of him.   

“It’s okay, though. It's fair since I ate your Debbie’s.” He shrieks. “You ate my Little Debbie’s?”   

  You hum in response with a grin on your face. “I just love Zebra Cakes.”    

“You motherfucker. I can’t have nothing nice.” He pouts and rolls his eyes at you. You laugh at him, just enjoying the ride.    

 The heroes you are carrying, Uravity, Deku, Dynamite, Pinky, Chargebolt, Creati, Red Riot, Froppy, Anima, and Shouto, are all relaxing and enjoying the ride. Shouto, as you suspected, is asleep the moment the flight started. Katsuki relaxes by the window at first until Izuku starts to excitedly talk about their vacation. The girls sing together and Denki dances in his seat, slightly scaring Koda who just wants to land already. Lastly, there is Eijiro who’s just trying to survive.    

  All these crazy ass people aboard your precious child. Thankfully, it doesn’t require gasoline like regular, old fashioned planes. No, your baby is charged up with energy and her own determination to go and get them away from you and to their vacation.   

“Where are we headed anyway?” You show your co-pilot an island just west of Japan. It should be no more than a few hours flight if that long. With your experience of flying this way, it will be a breeze if everything cooperates, which no doubt it will. Betty is a speed loving machine that has never failed.   

“They’re going on vacation. It’s our job to get them there and celebrate when they leave,”  You poke your friend on the shoulder and whisper, “And preferably leave with a couple of drinks.”   

  Setting the course, you put on auto-pilot and pat Jay. “I’ll be back I have to use the bathroom.” In just a few minutes you are out of the bathroom and face your passengers.   

“Pilot?” You turn to see Izuku shyly say your nickname that was given to you in high school. “Thanks for the ride.” A slight blush paints his cheeks. He looks away not wanting you to see it. The big guy practically takes up the doorway.    

When you two met, you were in high school. You in the support department and him in the hero course. While he usually went to Mei for gear, you were visited for more flight-based items. Once Izuku triggered his Float, he was a client of yours too. Especially when he discovered that you were quirkless. Throughout U.A. it was only the two of you who were quirkless. Moreso you than him given One For All. Nevertheless, the coincidence of quirklessness gave a sense of camaraderie between the two of you.   

Growing up with him for three years you got to see the many changes in his body. By the third year, he grew over a foot if not more. Now in the mid-twenties, his muscles are proportionate to his height. He still has his green curls but they’re shorter with an undercut now. His green eyes are still very round and big while his freckles are still prominent on his cheeks.    

Honestly, it’s insane how much he’s changed physically. Izuku Midoriya is a man now. A deep voiced man that is so shy around you. Deep inside, he’s still a little nerd.    

“My pleasure Izuku.” He turns beat red at the sound of his first name. After all this time he’s still blushing from it. You’ve never been one to call others by their last name. Hell, the teachers at U.A. don’t even get that treatment. You’ll never forget Shouta’s face whenever you called him that. His hair stood up and eyes glowed red and not by his quirk.    

Though nothing could top Izuku’s reaction. Steam came out of his ears so much that you thought his poor head would pop off. “T-t-tanks-I mean thanks!”    

  Not giving up the chance to mess with him, you press it. “Well, how could it not be my pleasure to fly the number one hero.” You tease. Izuku wants to cover his face so badly.   

   Without the need of a mind reading quirk, you can hear the ‘You’re a hero, Izuku! You’ve faced tougher than this! You’re a man now, not a kid.’    

When he first became a hero, you caught him telling himself that. Ever since then you’ve just known when he was saying it. You can admit that he’s cute. Hell, maybe not cute as much as handsome. He straightens up and stares at you dead on, ready to say something. “ Deku! You’re acting like Mineta, you little-”    

“Don’t be mad because you're still on the ‘Pilot’ level, Katsuki. He’s got first name privileges.” You yell over Izuku’s shoulder. “I do?”   

“Yep! It’s okay, Izuku.” You squeeze his callous, large hand. “Go on sit down. This is a safety hazard.”   

“It is?!” Mina asks. “ Yes, it is miss . You’d know this if y’all listened!” It isn’t anymore at least. Not since you’ve taken off and have been in the air for a while. It's an innocent lie to get them to calm down.    

You take off back to the cockpit, pushing back the red curtains for just a moment. Teenage you didn’t think about a door, okay? So the curtains stay for now.    

  Deciding not to check if Betty is on track, you instead lean back and enjoy the ride. Betty is on autopilot anyway. Nothing is going to go wrong.    

With the singing and laughing in the back, the quiet sound of your own song, you don’t realize that this is the last bit of happiness and that you should have been more observant of your surroundings.    

  Suddenly, the sky is flushed with a dark blue that morphs into a stormy grey. Clouds are fluffy and reveal some streaks of light in their creases. There hasn’t been any noise yet. Nevertheless, the image itself is telling. There is a deep, eerie feeling in the pit of your stomach.    

 “Thunderstorm? There were no reports today...”    

Before the ride, you checked everything to see how the air would be. Nothing showed that this should be happening. It was forecast that it would be a mild day. However, random storms can occur. Nothing is ever set.    

  Mina’s shouting is the clearest of them all. “What’s wrong with the plane!”    

The turbulence is always scary for passengers. You grab the speaker and say beautiful words. “Please shut up. It's just a thunderstorm.”   

  “Are we going to die?!” You roll your eyes. Turbulence is scary but not concerning. It happens all the time.    

“Denki, please shut up. No one is going to die. It's just a storm. We've been through worse.” You hang up the mic and continue on. It is weird that this happened so suddenly. There wasn’t any indication either. It was just a sudden darkness that washed against the sky after what seemed like a wave of blue. It kind of reminded you of an actual ocean wave.   

“It’s fine. Nothing you haven’t been through before, (Y/n).”    

Minutes pass with ease and only the slightest turbulence. Jay has been suspiciously quiet for a while. “Probably asleep, knowing him.”   

  Poking him, you call him. “Jay, how’d you expect to get to this level if you’re sleeping?”   

He’s turned away from you. All you can see is the back of his head and the collar of his jacket high up on his neck, close to his cheeks. Pushing him now, you see him clearly when his face turns to you. His face has a tinge of blue and it’s swollen.     

You scream at the top of your lungs.    

“Jay? Jay?! Jay!” You shake him. What the hell is going on?! He was just fine minutes ago! You continue to shake him and call his name. It takes a moment for everything to dawn on you. The coldness of his skin finally wakes you up. It all  starts to make sense. The peanuts, the silence, the equipment, the storm, all of it. You look at the screens again. No fucking wonder, it's because you’re off course.    Jay was never sleeping. As he was suffering at some point, he must have messed with the controls on accident when you weren’t here.   

He isn’t sleeping. Jay is swollen and blue and has crusted tears. Calling and crying his name isn’t waking him up. He’s not breathing.    

His seatbelt is off at the worst time. A particularly strong turbulence interrupts your cries for your friend. The bounce of the plane is so strong that it moves his body on top of the dash. Tears stream down your face.    

“Jay, I love you. But move your dead body!”     

You push him off to control the plane again. Again, a blue color surrounds the sky that doesn’t look natural. It looks like a light almost. “Pilot? What’s going on?”    

Izuku rushes to you only to see you crying, trying to get control of the plane and Jay on the ground, motionless.   

“I didn’t even know. He had a check up! I-he pushed-he's cold! Check on him, please! ”   

This can’t be happening. For some reason, the plane isn’t cooperating. In all of your experience, nothing like this has ever happened. The plane is refusing to steer correctly. Checking your equipment, you can see from your end that everything is fine. As a pilot, you need to take responsibility, yes. You shouldn’t have been negligent. But, at this moment, it feels as if the plane is being pulled down.     

Izuku doesn’t know what’s happening here, but what is so painfully obvious is that the plane is about to crash. No matter how much you try to lift it, Betty refuses to raise up. 

How could this have happened? How? Jay doesn’t have a peanut allergy! He had a check up recently and ate peanuts all the time before. It had been a while, but honey roasted was his favorite! Maybe it’s not peanuts? It could have been anything, right?   

You killed him.    

What else could have done him in?   

Jay, Jay, Jay! He's so cold too. You are the one who bought the peanuts. You watched him eat them. You are the one who wasn't paying attention.

“Izuku, go sit down!”    

“I can’t, (Y/n).” Before questioning why, he leans in and says, “My danger sense is going off.”    

There’s a flash of lightning and the rain is pouring so hard it’s pounding. The lights are going crazy as the plane continues to bounce from the strange force and your will to control it.   

Deep inside of your gut you feel it too. The plane dodges the strikes of lightning. Usually, you’d be able to navigate a storm and planes wouldn’t have to worry about dodging. However, this storm is drastically different.  It’s not natural, you can feel it. Can Izuku?  

 “Obviously! We’re going down! Just try to sit your ass down.”    

 Finally, you see a small strip of land, an island. You could try to continue to fly through this or land until it gets better. Another wash of blue comes for the plane right as lightning strikes brightly. Your head begins to hurt, you feel dizzy and confused. A sharp chill runs up your spine and makes your hair stand up. For some reason your eyes can’t seem to focus on anything.    

You push the special landing gear. Izuku wraps his large body around you, purely on instinct. Stretching your arm to push one more button and the yoke, you somehow, among all the chaos and heartbreak, are actually managing to land the plane.    

  The plane dives as you say, and the blessed features come out in time. Along with the average plane safety features, you installed a soft pad that lightens the plane before impact and if need be, floats in water. A parachute deploys and sends a bright flare into the sky. Cushions envelope the passengers to brace for impact. All these features were put in when you were a teen. They were random and some were based on heroes. Power Loader would roll his eyes at it until he saw it work when All For One and Shigaraki tried to take it down. Every passenger on board was completely safe.  

  After that, no one ever made fun of Betty. Funny how far you and Betty have fallen. Literally.    

Strong arms tighten around you, Izuku pushes himself in front of you. With one last effort, you stretch your hand higher. “Iz-uku! One more .”   

Screaming, your finger finally presses the button for nearby pilots, authorities, and radios for help. There is a good chance that it won't work. Nevertheless, Betty was going down by this mysterious storm and you can swear that there’s something pulling her down.    

---

You wake up first. By the time that happens, the sun is shining brightly, and the heat is horrible. Tremendously sweating, it gets worse when Izuku becomes a boa constrictor and squeezes you. Your face smashes into his chest. “Izuku, please...” You gasp.   

Moving slightly, your mouth comes to face his neck. Heavily breathing, you bite his neck. He wakes up with a hiss. “W-what?”   

“Wake up, please.” A whisper is enough to make him alert. Izuku pops up and looks around. Somehow, he’s completely intact despite using himself as a cushion for you. His green eyes study you. His hands roam over your body to look for any wounds.   

“Are you okay? Can you see me?” You nod and prop yourself up. “Slow down, slow down, Pilot.”   

   Groaning, you tell him you’re alright but you’re not sure about everyone else. “A cushion should’ve deployed. We have to go check though.”     

As Izuku holds you up, Jay’s body lay behind him. “Huh?” Izuku looks behind him.    

“What?” You try to see what he is staring at, but Izuku shuts that down.    

“Sh, sh, don’t look. Don’t look.” Izuku holds your face towards him and leads you away. Your eyes burn and lip wobbles. It’s a surprise when lips touch your head.    

   You don’t even think about that. Who cares? Jay is gone. Betty crashed. The passengers may be gone for all that’s known. Where are you? The course was set, and the sky was clear. No storm came up on your reports and equipment. Not even a hint of a formation.   

Jay, oh Jay. What did you do?     

Why are you blaming him, you who bought the peanuts? You who didn’t check on him. Some friend you are. You killed him. You should’ve known what was happening. You swallow hard at the nausea.  You whisper so quietly, Izuku doesn’t hear you. “God help me...” Help Jay, help everyone.    

Everyone is safe, as far as you can see. The cushions on their chairs safely encased them. The seatbelts are wrapped around their body. You give a sigh of relief that there isn't a gory sight.  

  Walking to the first aid kit, you get the scanner that checks not only their temperature, but also any wounds they may carry. It is something Recovery Girl gave you when you helped at U.A.’s fortress all those years ago. You press it to Koda’s forehead then bring it down.    

“97, sore throat?” That never happens with Koda. As long as you have known him, he has always made sure to care for his throat. Hell, Momo relishes that he comes to her for tea and honey. Then again, the sore throat could have been from him screaming, if he even did.   

The news that he was generally okay feels like a heavy weight’s been lifted. That news alone is not able to completely release the guilt and heartache, however. There is still so much that needs to be done, to be figured out, to be buried.     

“Katsuki, 98, no injuries.”   

His usual, if you remember, is at least 105 or so. It always ranged whenever he used his quirk recently. That tends to happen for all of those who have fire-based quirks. Out of curiosity, you press your finger to his palm. The callous skin is cooler than it usually is. In fact, his hands are completely dry as well. There is not a hint of moisture.   

  You go through all of them except Shouto, whose eyes have opened. He rubs the back of his head and looks around confused. Each seemed relatively normal and with little to no injuries. The oddities are how their usual care is opposite, like how Koda’s throat is sore and how Katsuki’s palms are cooled down.    

At least they’re okay.   

This whole thing is surreal. Nothing about what happened makes sense given how sudden it was and yet, everything is okay. Almost as if it never happened. Like the rush of a blue hue wasn’t there or the feel of the pull was imaginary.  

   “Izuku, face me.” He reads at a normal temperature with only a few bruises and exhaustion. “Did you check yourself?”   

  “I’m fine. Isn’t it weird that everything is okay? And they’re reading the opposite of what they usually are?”   

“It could be faulty. You still need to be checked at least.”   

“Even though it’s faulty?” Izuku rolls his eyes and reaches for the device.    

Steps are heard then. “Here, I'll do it.” A barely cool right hand presses the device at your head. Shouto used to help with Recovery Girl with you when U.A. was a fortress. He felt that it was his duty because of the destruction Dabi caused. With you being in the support course, you had also taken up a few tips and tricks with Recovery Girl. Following her around and learning led you to be a big help during the wars and the fortress.    

  You taught Shouto everything he knows. Does he remember it? Probably not, the spacey brat.   

“A mild concussion.” Well damn. “Are you sure, Shouto?”   

Izuku looks at the device too. “We have to sit her down.” Izuku agrees and helps you sit at one of the passenger seats. “I’m so sorry, Pilot. I should’ve done better,” You pet his hand that rests on your shoulder.   

“Watch her while I go check everything out.” He reluctantly leaves but knows you are safe in Shouto’s hands.    

You take the device and move Shouto’s hair so you can place it directly on Shouto’s forehead. “I need two.”    

 “I know, this is just to check something. 98.” You place it on both sides of his forehead, only to get the same results.    

This is off. Usually, a fire based user will run warm and an ice user runs cold. In Shouto’s case, if he hasn’t used his quirk and is fine, the device should read ERR. It is normal to have to put two scanners on his head just to read what his temperatures are in case he isn’t alright.  You remember the first time having to do a little math on him when he became sick.    

Never has he ever been a normal human temperature. “I could just be off, Y/n.”   

“Or the device is? It's hot out, so Katsuki's palms should be sweating a ton. And shouldn't we all be a little warmer because of the heat? But none of that is happening.”   

He shakes his head. “I don’t think so. It's right about you. You don't look too good.” He grabs it from you and tosses it to another chair. You put your head in your hands.    

“Nothing feels real.” He rubs your arms. He’s always been very comforting and awkward.  “What happened?”   

  It takes a few moments to remember everything, which you feel isn’t much. He nods as you tell of the random storm and how Jay is dead. “I feel like there’s more, though.”   

“Well, the injury is minor. You'll be better in a day at most."  

Aggravated noises come from behind Shouto. “What the fuck just happened?!”   

Katsuki walks towards his friend (who he still won’t admit is his friend). “Where the hell is she!”   

“I’m here, Katsuki.” Shouto stands when you give yourself away. “What the hell is going on? What the fuck did you do?”   

“It was an accident.” Katsuki gets into Shouto’s face. “Yeah? By whose account? I know you can’t believe her.”    

You understand he’s scared. It’s expected. But to think you’d endanger them on purpose is hurtful. Shouto defends you every step of the way. “Ask Midoriya then if you don’t believe. He was with her.”   

  The blond leaves with heavy stomping. “Deku!”   

 Shouto squats in front of you. “It’s going to be okay, Pilot.”   

“I don’t understand this at all.” You truly don’t. And neither does Shouto, you think.     

No more than an hour later, everyone is up and outside. The heat is slowly becoming worse, and the air is too dry. The sand is doing nothing to help. The waves carry on in the background, doing little to overpower the loud complaints from everyone.    

Mina is screaming that she can’t use her quirk. Eijrou can barely harden, Katsuki gives the saddest explosions that cause him pain, Koda can only get a bird’s attention, this is the same trend for everyone. What is worse is that Izuku can only feel the embers of One For All and gave you a hurt expression when discovered. As if you had taken it from him.   

Painful, absolutely painful.   

As the sun beats down on everyone, you swear you can see a sheer blue tint around you. It graces ever so slightly on their skin. The same color lays all around you. The ground, the abundant trees, Betty, even the waves as much as you can tell. You want to voice your thoughts, but the situation at hand doesn’t call for it.   

------------

The heroes start to calm down. Momo, as usual, begins to plan for shelter from the heat. Koda and Eijrou immediately run around for anything of use. It isn’t until Mina asks a question does everybody stop.    

“Where’s Jay?” Mina asks. As the hour passed, your head began to get better. You inform everyone of a much clearer picture than you had told Shouto. How you found him, how the dash acted off, everything.    

 Mina gasps. “Are you sure?”   

“Positive. His face was swollen and his body was blue when I got there. It must’ve been the peanuts! What else could it have been, y’know? He was completely fine when I left for the bathroom.” You sniffle.   

“Allergies can develop at any age. Even later in life so it’s not impossible, Pilot.” Denki reassures. You rub your face with your hands.  Katsuki leaves to go into the plane’s controls to check on him. “There’s always hope, you know.” Eijrou says as he rubs your shoulder.    

“It doesn’t feel real. None of it does. How could this have happened? He just had a checkup. Everything was on the up and up. How did this happen?"

“It never does feel right. There is never a good answer, either.” You nod and lean into the touch of the large red headed man.    

“Huh, what’d she say about Jay?” Katsuki calls. You yell back your answer, completely confused. Suddenly, he appears with Jay. Jay, who doesn’t look at all as you described. Gasping, you run to him. Instead, he...looks normal.

Completely fine. Inside you is a delicate flower of hope blooms. Did you see wrong? Is he just sleeping? Could it have been a horrifying illusion?   

  “Oh my God. Jay? Jay!” Katsuki holds him out. You lightly tap his face. Abandoning the taps, you go on to slight shakes.    

 Your friend is still dead as a cold doorknob. The flower that tried to blossom is crushed to dust, as if Tomura himself had reached his hand and touched your chest. “What really happened, L/n.”  

  L/n. He hasn’t called you that since your first meeting when you were fifteen. As they study Jay, everyone gets increasingly confused.  

He repeats his question as a whisper that only you two hear. “I swear-”   

Katsuki Bakugou doesn’t believe you.    

“I-I swear, okay? Izuku can testify that I'm not lying. Jay was swollen and everything. The swelling must’ve gone down.”  

“And the color?” His face is still accusatory. “I don’t know, I don’t know! I can’t think of anything else that would cause it.”  Tsu puts her finger on her chin. “Is that possible? If that’s the case, then maybe it fumes that killed him?”    

  “What fumes,” Shouto comes to look at Jay. “Can cause this?”   

You shrug. “I didn’t smell any.”   

  “But if he was blue, can people become unblue?” Denki squints as he inspects your friend’s body.   “How’d he die, (Y/n)?” Katsuki asks for the last time.    

  The last time for all of them.    

There is something in the air. A sharpness to the quality that just doesn’t sit right. It is past tension and disbelief. Whatever it is, it’s off-putting and confusing. Something isn’t right and you may be the only one to notice it.    

And that’s terrifying being among heroes.    

----------

“They’re supposed to be here by now.” Shouta Aizawa leans back in his chair with a beer in his hand. Going to the island for vacation wasn’t his idea or something he was looking forward to, but damn is he glad he went. With the beautiful sandy floor, the fresh breeze and beautiful waves, all of it is gorgeous. The lagoon to his right where his colleagues frolic around to the sky where the birds roam free.    

Paradise.    

  Tenya rubs sunscreen on his arms. “Sensei?” He asks as he puts out the lotion towards the hero. “I’m not your teacher anymore, kid.”   

His old class have grown tremendously. Iida, or should he say, Ingenium, is one of the most in demand heroes. His speed is unrivaled even by One For All. Iida has grown to save all of those in his path, making not only his old teacher proud but his brother as well.    

Iida’s still a stick in the mud though. And he still does those robot hands for some reason.    

“Haha, I know. At least officially you aren’t. But trust, Aizawa-sensei, we’ll always see you that way.”    

Rolling his eye, he takes the bottle from the former class president. It is seconds later that Hitoshi, who Shouta can consider his own protégé, comes up to them and informs them that they have lost contact with your plane a little over an hour ago with a parting message that is nearly impossible to understand due to the static.  

Shouta jumps up with a poorly concealed worried look. If you can go down, something is terribly wrong. There is no way a renowned pilot like yourself can crash just randomly.  

It must be a villain. There is no other explanation.    

 “Where’s the radio?”  

[thommi-tomate]

Interview with Lee PT.2

By: GQ Deutschland

You lived in Manchester for a long time. What differences do you see in terms of public and media reactions between Germany and England?

In both countries, there are media - and people - who like to pigeonhole others. That's certainly not the majority, but you have to accept it. In England, however, people find it easier to compliment you on an outfit. I do the same myself. If I like what a person is wearing, I tell them that - even if I don't know them at all.

You have been living in Germany again since 2020. How have you developed since your return?

I get a bit more attention here than I did in England - and that can be both positive and negative. In England, I was considered a talent and was just one of many players at Manchester City, so everything was a bit more relaxed for me there. Here I'm a German international. On the whole, though, I'm very happy with how everything has developed.

The public mood towards the national team has not been particularly good in recent years. With the test match victories against France and Belgium, this has changed completely. How are you looking forward to the tournament?

Especially now with the successes in preparation, my mood is good and the anticipation is great. That has a lot to do with the fact that it's a home European Championship. You can only take part in something like this once in your football career, if at all. In sport, everything happens very quickly. If you lose, everything is bad, if you win, everything is great. We can put that into perspective. National coach Julian Nagelsmann always makes sure that the mood in the team is good and that we get on better and better with each other on the pitch. That's how the European Championship can take on a very special dynamic with the fans and those around us and take us a long way - hopefully all the way to the title.

Unfortunately, you yourself were suspended for the games against France and the Netherlands. Were you still able to get involved?

Definitely. It was very important for me to be with the boys again. The atmosphere within the team was already good beforehand and the coach always managed to ensure that we were relaxed and extremely focused at the same time. I'm very pleased that this has been reflected in the results and that we now have new momentum. This will hopefully carry us through the entire preparation period and well into the European Championships.

Especially at such a big tournament, it is important for success that the structure in the dressing room is right. At the age of 28, you are no longer one of the young guns. What does that mean for your position within the team?

As you get older and more experienced, you look at how you can help and support the young players. Especially in my position as an attacking midfielder, there are lots of opportunities. I'm certainly not the one who always speaks up. But I try to be a leader on the pitch - a player who brings momentum and who the others can follow. We have a very good mix of experienced and young players, from which both sides can benefit.

One big change is that Toni Kroos has returned to the national team. His qualities on the pitch are well known, but how important can he be for the team in the dressing room?

In the dressing room, he is someone that all the other players look up to. He has achieved so much that his successes give him a special status. He's incredible on the pitch, he doesn't let anything get him down. Even when things aren't going well, he's always focused. You just look at him and you know you don't have to worry. He shows us that we always have it in our own hands to turn a game around. What's more, he can really intimidate the opposition with his presence. He helps us a lot and is just incredibly good for the team.

You mentioned that you yourself are more of a quiet type. You can also see that on the pitch and it's something that critics sometimes accuse you of. Is that something you're working on?

It's in my nature to focus on myself first. But now I try to show more often that I always give my all. As an attacking player, I have less of an overview of the pitch than someone in defensive midfield. As a result, I can hardly intervene in an orderly fashion. But I can lead the way and get the others involved.

What do you expect from the European Championships?

Just being able to take part in a European Championship and represent your country is an extraordinary experience. The fact that it is taking place in your home country only makes the whole thing even greater. It's a good opportunity to be carried away and pushed by the euphoria. Of course, there is a risk that the pressure will be particularly high, but I'm just really looking forward to the tournament. I have great expectations of myself, of the team, and of course the greatest thing would be to win this title with the national team in my own country.

This euphoria can inspire a team, but a setback can quickly turn the whole thing on its head

We shouldn't start worrying now about what will happen if we are eliminated. In the past, we've seen that the fans were euphoric and grateful even when the national team was eliminated in the semi-finals - because the players always gave their best.

That was the case at the "summer fairytale", the World Cup in 2006, which also took place in Germany. You were ten years old at the time and played for Schalke 04's youth team. What memories do you have of the tournament?

I can still remember it very well. No matter where you were, people would gather and watch the games. When Germany played, the streets were empty because everyone was cheering in front of the screen or in the stadium. As a young boy, I dreamed of being on the pitch when something like that happened. So I'm in the process of fulfilling a big dream. And of course my - our - biggest goal is to give people another great summer like this.

[spongeofaces]

Hiii!!! I saw your request and figured I’d drop one in your inbox too hehe. If you’re too busy don’t feel pressured to do this, but a TWST matchup would be lovely!

Personality: I'm a Scorpio, INFJ-T, and in general I'd say I align with those assignments. I'm extremely introverted to the point of being asocial. I spend most of my time by myself, and if I could I'd do everything on my own, since I'm stubbornly independent, and very cautious around people, even those I know well. Despite this, I'm not unfriendly, I just have a really hard time connecting with others due to my social anxiety. I really appreciate people who go out of their way to connect with me, and I make friends with people quickly when I get the chance. Once I get comfy I become very blunt and humorous. I tend to say and do as I please, though never to the detriment of someone else, as I tend to put other's needs above my own. I'll talk for hours about my interests and passions, and I'm always up for a challenge. I also have a very strong moral compass, and I refuse to compromise on it. I try to be kind above all else, especially to those who seem to be in a rough place, as I haven’t always been treated kindly, and I want others to feel loved. I’m known for giving great advice and being a good shoulder to cry on, but I don’t let others take advantage of that. I do well in emergency situations, especially when leadership is needed, but I also tend to crumble under mounting stress, and lash out when upset. Overall I'm determined, creative, and compassionate, but also stubborn, judgmental, and fearful.

Likes: I love horror media and anything deemed unsettling, since things that make me uncomfortable fascinate me. I love animals (especially tarantulas and spiders) and nature, and I spend a lot of time drawing and painting the world around me and taking walks on sunny days. On that note, I’m an explorer, and I tend to get into spaces I shouldn’t be if only because my curiosity got the better of me. I enjoy composing, playing, and listening to music, especially instrumentals, rock, and soundtracks. I also play video games, especially RPGs and FPS games. I’m a boxer and archer, and while I don’t like athletics and sports that much, climbing, running, and adventuring outside is always fun for me, especially with friends.

Dislikes: Inconsiderate people, especially when they’re not aware of how they’re inconveniencing others. Trutthfully, I can be very judgemental and picky with friends or associates, and if someone annoys me even slightly I tend to disregard them. I also dislike those who are arrogant and cruel, and I have a particular distaste for seafood and being touched.

What I look for in a partner: Someone who is kind and understanding of my flaws, and especially someone with a good sense of humor. I feel like I don’t truly connect with people until we laugh about something together. I value honesty and communication as well, so someone who isn’t willing or can’t be open and vulnerable with me is a no go. As pessimistic as I am, I also believe in doing good and making other people’s days a little bit brighter if possible, so I couldn’t be around a cynic or someone intentionally cruel.

Fun Fact: I like to read medical textbooks, and I find visiting cadaver labs and watching medical procedures thrilling.

Again, no pressure, and have a fantastic day or night!!

Not going to lie, my writing quality for this one sucks, so I hope you still like it ❤️❤️

---

I match obsoleteozymandias with...

🌼 Kalim Al Asim 🌼

-:-:-:-

It took a while for him to realize that his feelings for you were romantic. He just assumed he thought of you as a very very very close friend whom he completely and utterly adores. He's totally just a tad oblivious.

He figured out he liked you when Jamil brought up how much he talked about you. Kalim thought that it was normal, but Jamil slowly explained that it sounded like a bit more than a friendship to him.

Kalim would spare no expense to keep you happy. His love language is definitely gift-giving or quality time. Every time he finds something that reminds him of you or he thinks you'd like, he immediately purchases it and gives it to you with a smile. He doesn't quite understand that you don't need all this stuff...

A bit clingy, but if you tell him to back off he will.

Always ready to give you a shoulder to cry on, rant to, whatever. The guy wants to help out however he can.

Asks plenty of questions. Favourite colour? Favourite food? Whatever comes to mind, he'll ask. Please tell him everything about your interests, he'd listen to you talk for days.

Very understanding. He may not be quite sure of all the details in some situations, but he trusts you and your judgement completely.

Adventures, adventures and more adventures! He'll drag you off somewhere fun, like a picnic in the middle of nowhere!

He's willing to try anything if it's for you. Maybe it's a game you really like, or music you enjoy.

Kalim feels sad when you're sad, so he always tries his best to cheer you up. Telling jokes, offering hugs. Whatever he thinks you might need.

Silly, oblivious, please guide him. He doesn't really know what a relationship entails.

Kalim admires you. He just wants to look after you, make you feel loved as you do him.

Definitely the kind of guy who believes that he'll marry his first love.

Flowers, flowers, flowers. Gifts, gifts, gifts.

Honestly, he's just the most compassionate, sweetest guy. Whatever you'd like, he'd get you. Whatever pace you want in the relationship, he'd follow it. He takes your boundaries very seriously.

Other options: Epel and Idia.

[dorianepin]

nba draft models

patrick bacon nhle blog post

f1metrics model blog post

f1 mathematical model 2023 ratings

f1 analysis 2023 driver rankings

+ there was a guy who charted specific prospect comps but i don't remember who it was anymore... need to look around some more

@__@ thinking about projection modeling for feeder series again. the thing is that the world of "advanced stats" does not tangibly exist in f1 fandom, which is mildly fascinating to me because it's a sport literally predicated on real-time data & predictive analysis... of course the issue is more so that the primary "product" is half black-box and there are limits to the confidence one can ascribe to any analysis because projections of a driver's performance must contextualize the inherent characteristics of the car, which are not entirely known to factually anyone, and even more importantly it is entirely impossible to predict or account for any team's incoming in-season upgrades, so by the time a general competitive order has been determined there is less of a desire to make the projections & evaluations that shape so much of nhl/nba/etc. analytical consumption (at least imo).

there are databases and apis (ergast... but it's shutting down) out there except f1metrics hasn't been active since 2019 and the other modeling work i've seen is quite few and far between... the brunt of f1 stats is basically telemetry overlays, race pace distributions, quali h2h metrics & gap medians, etc. etc........ in the end people love stats in this sport but i feel like the framework in which they get disseminated is always so restrictive ?

anyway the thing is that f1 being non-spec (or not the fact of it being non-spec specifically but rather how it makes evaluating team development impossible because of how complex & secretive the processes are) complicates this entire exercise in the first place, but then...... what of prospect evaluation??

it drives me increasingly crasy to see people incapable of contextualizing junior series dominance + the overall trajectory that a driver's career takes before they make it to f1. the big disclaimer is, of course, that f2 and f1 are not linearly comparable and it's presumptuous to be able to say that someone who dominates in f2 will be able to come to grips with the mechanics of a completely different car and the elevated competition at the highest level of motorsport, but the more i think about it the more i'm like well... is this not basically how nhle gets approached too??? sure you can say that someone who thrives at the european junior level might struggle to adjust to a specific coaching system while playing on smaller ice with increased physicality, but that's a speculative caveat at the end of the day... motorsport is one of the most ever Vibes Based fandoms in terms of rating junior drivers and proclaiming others as being washed but i feel like there are enough traits to create a better evaluation system than currently exists.

considerations

(get mecachromed) how 2 account for illegal engines and private testing etc. well: you can't. or i don't know how to

teams obviously know more from running their rookies privately than we do. but models aren't made to be right and in this case they're made to vaguely identify a measure of potential

instantly harder to evaluate the strength of the "rest of the field" if none of the other competitors have ever eventually made it to f1, because those drivers will hence always be something of an unknown variable

nhle is basically about contextualizing junior pts output & using that to determine a player's expected usefulness (further generalized by elite, star, nhler, bust etc.), which again is not really translatable to f1 because although quality of teammate does have a variable impact in hockey it's literally mathematically impossible to be to the same level of f1 wherein you can end up in a backmarker and score 0 points. and obviously it's like... the linear accumulation of points is simply not the same, you don't get 1 single point for every action you make, so going by absolute differences in f1 scoring is often misleading (though it does carry its own context... anyway)

that being said, Traits:

total points (adjusted per championship format)

year # in championship (i think being in your 3rd year Should be much more highly weighted than some people are willing to admit)

age / series run previously

dominance over field (% of total avail points)

dominance over teammates (quali h2h, sprint/feature h2h, quali % diff, etc.)

some measure of consistency? but the idea also, to me, is like....... i wonder how for example ollie would rate if this were applied to his rookie f2 season because how much does a team value his rough-around-the-edges quickness over theo's ultimately unremarkable 3rd year consistency?

that's really the crux of it at the end of the day.......... many thoughts but that's where i'm at right now. hmm. let me put this under a read more i did not think i'd write this much

also -> realizing things about evaluating ceiling of performance in f1 (there Is a maximum you can achieve unlike other sports where the human limit to how many points you can score is more evident) and also that retroactively evaluating current graduates requires some level of analysis wrt f1 performance & longevity anyway.... thinking about george/lando/sharl/alex comparisons + mick/guanyu/oscar co... Hm. idk

[katwriteswitcherthings]

Title: Vi Moxt Miirik (Chapter Ten - Also on AO3)

Prompt: Wuv: Wedding Shenanigans

Pairing: Geralt & Jaskier

Rating: T

Warnings: None

Much of the dialogue in this chapter is based heavily on the short story 'A Little Sacrifice'.

Summary:

Our favorite lovable Bard is a little more than he let's Geralt know. Follow them through the years as he learns to let down his walls and show Geralt how beautiful he really is.

Chapter Ten

When the Witcher and Bard met again, neither of them said a word about Rinde. Jaskier fell into step next to Roach just as easily as he had the first time, not even bothering to ask if he could come along.

They met on the road near Dorian in the middle of summer. Geralt had a fairly decent season up until that point, and Jaskier had obviously done much better sporting four expensive-looking doublets, a new fur-lined cloak, and two pairs of good walking boots. 

They traveled east along the Adalatte and straight through Kerack. They ended up at a party in a tavern called the Four Maples, and for once Geralt was just as much at fault for the resulting mess as Jaskier. 

Jaskier had a slightly nasty side, that was usually only coaxed out from under his performer's joy by bigots and racists. At the Four Maples there was a group of local hunters known as the Rangers. The Rangers had a reputation for 'hunting' elves and other non-humans, usually in the most gory and violent ways possible. They did not take kindly to a witcher.

Geralt had been used to the treatment, ducking his head low in his back little booth, and if the owner had asked him to leave, he would have without objection. Witchers can't retaliate against humans, not without consequences.

Jaskier, however, had worked for years to change people like these Rangers' opinions, and did not bother hiding his anger from them.

One thing led to another, and the whole tavern might have ended up burning down. Luckily for the witcher and his bard, Jaskier was good friends with the local judge. The judge ruled that the Rangers, Geralt, and Jaskier split the repair costs and subsequent court fees evenly, which left them broke but no longer in jail.

Then the Rangers got released from jail right behind them, and the unlucky pair had to spend the next week riding through the forests trying desperately to outrun the hunters. They couldn't go east, the Rangers were blocking all those roads. They couldn't go north, Calanthe would have them thrown in Cintra's dungeons if they came anywhere near the kingdom.

They were broke, tired, hungry and in the middle of nowhere along the coast. They came across no villages big enough for a tavern for Jaskier to play at, and none had any monster problems for Geralt to earn from either. Jaskier ended up selling off several pieces of his good jewelry for food, and Geralt finally sold off some good-quality knives he'd relieved from bandits. Their small provisions had run out the day before, and even Geralt's considerable hunting skills could not make game appear where none lived.

They finally got a break as they were walking up the road toward Bremervoord.

"Oi! Master!" A voice called out suddenly from a small cart parked off the road, and both Geralt and Jaskier looked up at the call, bewildered. "Oh! It is you, Master Bard!" At a look from the bard, Geralt dismounted Roach gracefully and led her a little closer to the cart, where a heavyset man was climbing down.

"Indeed, good sir, I am the Master Bard Jaskier." Jaskier said with a small bow and a smile as the man approached them. "This is my companion, the witcher Geralt of Rivia. It seems you have the better of me, though." He introduced Geralt flawlessly, and the man nervously nodded his head in the Witcher's direction before shifting all his attention back to the bard.

"Ah, yes. I am Teleri Drouhard, spice merchant and leader of the local guild." He gave a little bow back before glancing between the pair. "I had heard rumors you were in the area, and I am very glad indeed I caught you before you passed through." Geralt barely contained a grimace at that reminder of their situation.

"What may I do for, Sir Drouhard, that you have sought me out?"

"Well, you see, my son is to be wed this night. My wife heard you perform last winter at the de Stael Midinváerne banquet and became a fan. When some of the guests told her they spotted you along the road, she demanded I come out to find and hire you. We already have a bard, of course, but she will not be satisfied unless you perform as well, I'm afraid."

"I may be a great bard, but even performers have standards, my good sir." Jaskier said after a moment's consideration. "You have hired another troubadour already and I will not take the money you already promised them." Jaskier turned away from the man to rifle through Roach's saddlebags. Geralt would have objected if he hadn't seen Jaskier use this tactic before. 

"Jaskier." Geralt grumbled softly, but the bard just winked at him, out of sight of the merchant. Of course, just because he'd seen it before didn't mean that Geralt would tolerate it. "Beggars can't be choosers. We need that money." Jaskier turned to face the witcher with a scoff.

"Beggars can't- Why you…!" Jaskier trailed off, affronted and making disagreeable noises. "That's the pot calling the kettle black! What about you, mighty Witcher? You who turned down contracts for hirrikkas because they are endangered? Let the mecopterans alone because their bones don't cure impotence? Who doesn't hunt dragons because your Witcher code prevents it? I, too, have a code!"

"Come on, Jaskier." Geralt said with a little eye roll. He was too used to his bard's antics by now, and all too easily played along. "For me? I'll take whatever contract I'm offered next."

"Please, Master Jaskier, my wife will be inconsolable if you do not play tonight." The merchant stepped in to beg. "The other bard will still get her pay, I swear. I'll offer you the same, and a room for you and your companion for the night." Jaskier hummed and let his fingers tap a beat on the saddlebags, letting the man sweat for a moment.

"Alright, my good sir. You drive a hard bargain but I will accept your offer for my services." The man visibly relaxed at hearing those words, and Geralt just rolled his eyes at his bard. Not like Jaskier would have refused either way; they needed the coin too badly and an actual room to stay in would be a great luxury.

"Please, follow me to my house. You both may use it to make ready, and both of you are welcome to the feast tonight."

"And who am I to be performing beside tonight, if I may be so bold?" Jaskier asked as the man clambered back up into his cart.

"Ah, a feisty young lass by the name Essi Daven."

Jaskier couldn't believe their luck! Essi Daven, his dearest sister, was in a small backwater like Bremervoord.

Drouhard was a cheerful enough fellow, even if he did continually get Geralt's name wrong, and didn't even blink twice about putting a Witcher up for the next several nights. It was nice after that... disagreement with the Rangers to see that his songs had reached all the way to the Coast. 

Jaskier got to spend the morning getting him and Geralt both presentable; Geralt got to soak in a tub that he could actually fit all the way down in for hours. Jaskier loved when he got to pamper his Witcher. He shaved them both and washed Geralt's hair until it was pure moonlight in his hands, pulling it up into a neat tail that accented his face quite well.

Geralt only had one moderately fancy outfit to wear, and it was one that Jaskier had tailor made several years ago for him. Jaskier loved it when Geralt got a chance to wear it, though it was too informal for the banquet in Cintra. More's the pity; he hated the doublet he'd wrangled up at the last minute for that.

No, this was a simple vest, embroidered with buttercups, and dyed black by Geralt a year after he'd gotten it. He wore it over a soft gray undershirt, and it went well with his leather pants and study boots. He smiled as he finished fussing with the vest and Geralt cast a glance at himself in the mirror. Geralt never said a word about him very publicly claiming the Witcher and Jaskier was damn sure not going to bring it up.

The wedding feast was in a warehouse, and Jaskier was unfortunately separated from his Witcher by Drouhard, who insisted Jaskier be introduced to the whole crowd, and rather poorly at that. At least he waited until Essi was done singing, he had to give the merchant that. With an elegant bow to the audience, Drouhard called for the banquet to begin.

Jaskier tried to catch Essi as she was leaving the stage, but a surge of pretty maidens got between them. Jaskier watched as she tossed a glance back at him, mischief sparkling in the one eye not hidden by her hair. Oh, cock. This wasn't going to end well for him, would it?

She was already making a beeline for Geralt, and blessed Melitele how did she find him so fast? That... that needed his attention. Immediately.

"Ladies, ladies, I must beg your pardons." He cried out, desperate. "I must confer with my fellow bard on our music for this lovely wedding banquet!"

He managed to give them the slip, bringing his lute around into his hands to protect it a measure more. He arrived just in time to see Geralt standing awkwardly next to Essi, who was watching him in fascination.

"Oh good, you found him." He called out, catching both their attention. "Geralt, be nice to Essi." He said seriously, waggling a finger in the Witcher's face. "She's like a sister to me."

"He's been a perfect gentleman so far." Essi cut in with a smile. "He even kissed my hand like a proper court lady."

"Oh?" Jaskier asked, an eyebrow raising in surprise as he looked over at his Witcher, who was steadfastly looking away. "I think some of my courtly graces must be rubbing off."

"Courtly graces or brothel etiquette?" Essi asked lightly, Jaskier resisting the temptation to stick out his tongue at her. Geralt let out a small chuff of laughter that would have barely been more than a breath to someone else, but Jaskier caught it immediately.

"Dearest Sister, I believe you are a miracle worker. You made my witcher laugh."

"That was a laugh? Seemed more like a dying man's breath, if you ask me."

"Geralt is a very reserved man." Jaskier said with a smile, enjoying the grumbling of his Witcher. "Now, we should get down to our serious business."

"Oh? And what serious business do we have, Jaskier?" Essi asked, lightly pulling the one stubborn lock of hair back out from over her eye.

"Who will play first, of course, and what ballads should we play?"

"I've already had a go, why don't you start?" 

"Agreed." Jaskier said with a smile as he turned to take in the crowd.

"Oh, looks like the crowd's just gotten a bit more stately." Essi exclaimed as a rather pompous-looking young man entered. Jaskier watched as several rows of people bowed deeply to the man, who gave a small nod, then stepped out of the way toward the other side of the warehouse. "Though he's a bit flighty on his debts. Likes to hire people, but hates to pay for good honest work."

"Some kind of local noble?" Geralt muttered and Jaskier shrugged back.

"You haven't heard yet?" Essi exclaimed in surprise as the three watched Drouhard hurry over to the noble, each man talking swiftly to the other.

"We hadn't even made it into town proper before Drouhard accosted us, Essi." Jaskier explained, and Essi just grinned mischievously.

"That's the Most Noble Duke of Agloval. There's been talk all over the harbor that he apparently has a mermaid problem."

"Mermaids? This close to a town?" Jaskier asked, somewhat surprised.

"Yup." Essi said, emphasizing her word by popping the 'p'.

"Master Jaskier!" A woman's shrill voice interrupted the conversation as the Lady Drouhard approached. It took Jaskier a moment to recognize the Lady Drouhard before he hid his frank unenthusiasm behind his performer's mask.

"My Lady Drouhard, what a pleasant surprise!" Jaskier stepped forward, leading the woman a ways away from their little group. Oh well. He'd just have to corner Geralt and Essi again in a little while and find out exactly what these mermaid problems looked like. It wasn't like mermaids caused a ton of problems for people, other than mean-spirited tricks when they felt like they'd been cheated.

[writingreadingdaydreaming]

really random but how do you think male omegas feel when they’re balding??

like in the omegaverse fics i read omega beauty is basically described as what would be stereotypical feminine qualities. and obviously i know that women bald and have thinning hair as well but it’s seen as a more masculine thing that it makes me wonder if male omegas would have any insecurities about it??

i mean ian wright is an omega in your universe and he seems bald and bauetuful and happy. not sure about the rest though

Omg an anon!!! Thank you for this wonderful question!!!

I feel like it would depend on how that omega grew up and was socialised, as we all know that women (and therefore omegas in an omegaverse society) are treated and valued based on their appearance.

Honestly? I don’t think an omega like Ian Wright would care all that much about going bald because Ian would have never been seen as a conventionally attractive omega. You have to think for someone like Ian, there would be an intersection of racism and misogyny, and with how intensely Ian sometimes showed his emotions on pitch, many people wouldn’t inherently see a black omega as soft and gentle anyways (because racism :/). So basically I feel like it wouldn’t really matter to him because growing up as someone who didn’t have the exact features of omega beauty, he would learn to find value in other things, so balding wouldn’t bother him as much as some other people (I hope I’ve explained this in a way that makes sense, if I’ve said anything wrong/insensitive feel free to let me know) .

Kind of the same story for Pepe (even though he’s bald by choice, not because of hair loss).

However, some omegas definitely would have deep insecurities about it. I know this is a football ask but if I can just draw it to tennis for a second because Rafa Nadal (even though I’m not a huge fan of him anymore) is a perfect example of this. If you compare how Rafa has aged to how Federer or Djokovic have aged, you can see that Rafa’s aging has been much more pronounced and premature than theirs, and obviously part of that is that he has been losing his hair recently. I think if you consider that when he was younger, Rafa would’ve fitted more into omega ideals, with a shy personality and a soft features. Quite literally the it girl of sport, or at least tennis. So when those signs of aging started to become apparent, especially hair loss, I feel like it would really bother him. His whole career he’s been known as the “pretty one” of the big three, and he would definitely have internalised that, so losing that innocent soft look would definitely do damage to his self-esteem.

I think a big thing too would be omegas losing their hair during pregnancy, which is very common. Imagine the stress of trying to come back to professional football after giving birth, and then the weight of people commenting on your appearance and looks on top of that :/

Thank you so much for your question, I absolutely loved answering this!!!

[sylviindia]

Role Of Silicone Watches: Durable And Comfortable - Sylvi

It is always best to take the roads that are less travelled. Cause you never know when there is a blessing waiting for you. And those off-beat tracks give you the best memory of your lifetime. Whether you are a mountain lover or an adventure lover, every trail has its own speciality. The backpack you carry, and the accessories you adorn influence a lot on the fond memories you make. 

Whether it’s an adventure trip, a jungle safari, a mountain trek, or even a high-altitude mountaineering expedition, every single element you carry with you counts a lot on your safety and success. During these journeys, timing is a very important factor that should be kept under control. And the best way to keep track is with the help of a high performing wristwatch. And that’s where silicone watches come into the picture.

What is the role of Silicone Watches?

For every moment and situation, there are unique outfits and accessories that cannot be mixed with others. For example, you cannot wear your ethnic outfits and wear a leather watch for an adventure trip. That would be a complete misfit. When it’s all about an adventure trip, a jungle safari, a mountain trek, or even a high-altitude mountaineering expedition, nothing beats the strength, durability, and comfort of silicone watches for men. It seems like they are meant to be manufactured for these moments. 

Slipping over a rough trail or crossing a small trail of spring is very common during hikes and mountain treks. The harsh cold temperature along with strong UV rays during mountaineering expeditions is an inevitable part. Extreme heat and humidity are a must during a jungle safari or else there won’t be any wildlife spotting. Now do you want your luxury leather watch or stainless steel watch to get damaged by getting exposed to these extreme weather conditions and difficult encounters? Sylvi silicone timepieces are best for extreme weather conditions. 

This is the reason silicone strap watches are mostly preferred by people who go for these kinds of adventure activities. Silicone straps are known to be one of the most durable, comfortable, strongest, and breathable materials when it comes to making watch bands.

Why Silicone Bands are an All-Rounder in Watch Industry?

It’s not a very long time since silicone watches have gained such immense popularity. These days it seems to be they are everywhere. They are not only restricted to sports watches and smartwatches, even Analog watches and Chronograph watches also are made with silicone straps. People are wearing them not only during adventure activities but also during casual outings. 

Stylish silicone watches are everywhere wherever you go irrespective of people’s age group these days. Silicone bands have been considered to be revolutionary, budget friendly, and easily available. Hence this is the reason they have become ubiquitous in watches. In the world of horology, including silicone in watch escapements in different proportions has been able to solve several challenging issues. 

Sylvi silicone watches are so comfortable to wear that it feels like the second skin around your wrist. High-end luxury watches brands like Rolex, Patek Philippe, and Swatch ran a research programme to explore the marvellous qualities of monocrystalline silicone. Thus, silicone came into the world of watchmaking. 

Silicone watches not only gives accurate timing during normal temperatures but also in high heat and severe cold. They are mostly waterproof or water resistant making it an all-rounder for timepieces around the world. 

Can I use Sylvi Silicone Watches during Adventure Activities?

Absolutely Yes. 

The silicone timepieces from Sylvi are meant to be manufactured keeping in mind for the adventure lovers. The silicone straps that are used in Sylvi watches are made with premium quality synthetic rubber with the help of the compression moulding process. This is the reason all the silicone watches from Sylvi have such minute detailing and dimensional accuracy. They don’t get damaged either in high heat or cold temperatures and can also withstand humid weather conditions and are resistant to extreme sweat. 

Now you know my reasons why I have suggested Sylvi watches when it is to silicone straps. Another speciality of Sylvi silicone watches is that you don’t have to rob a bank to own these watches. They have been made for the masses and keeping in mind everyone’s budget. Even college goers with limited pocket money can afford silicone watches from Sylvi. 

The silicone watches from the house of Sylvi are multifunctional so you can use them for numerous other activities apart from just checking the time. The most striking part of this extraordinary brand in India is that their silicone watches are long-lasting, durable, strong, flexible, and extremely stylish. Now you might be wondering how come an adventure activity watch can look stylish. Now that’s the catch for Syli watches. 

They are not only stylish but also come in a wide range of vibrant hues that would get rid of all your Monday blues and high-altitude fears. Just imagine in the mid of a Himalayan trek, you are tired to walk for long hours and your mood gets brightened up just by checking the bright color watch you are wearing. Sometimes bright colors have the capability to brighten up your tired days as well. Trust me, for those days Sylvi silicone watches in bright colors are there for you. 

Remarkable features of Sylvi Silicone Watches

Sylvi silicone watches are multifunctional for every requirement. There are Sports Watches, Chronograph Watches, Analog-Digital Watches, and Digital Watches available in silicone bands from Sylvi. 

The chronograph ones come with 3 sub-dials separately displaying hours, minutes, and seconds. They have a 1/100thsecond working chronograph, a date display, split time, and 3 ATM  water resistance. 

The sports watches have both analog and digital displays, a stopwatch, an alarm, an LED light, a luminous display, a 12/24 hour time format, a date calendar display, and 3 ATM water resistance. 

The Analog-digital watches also have a stopwatch, an alarm, luminous light, a date display, and 3 ATM water resistance. 

The latest collection launched by Sylvi is their ‘Evoke’ collection which is their first unisex watch that has amazing looks. It has a complete digital display with impeccable craftsmanship. It has a date display, an LED light for low light vision, a stopwatch, an alarm, a 12/24 hour time format, and 3 ATM water resistance. 

All the above three types of watches can be used for different kinds of situations. The chronograph can also be used during formal events as well. All these watches are perfectly made for men of all ages. Their Evoke collection are unisex watches that can be easily worn by ladies as well. Apart from this the collections to look for are Rig One ‘O One, Pro Timer, Race Master, Timegrapher, and Frist. I can guarantee you will never ever regret with your purchase. 

FAQs

  Why you should choose silicone watches?

Silicone watches have many advantages compared to other types of straps. Since they easily work in extreme weather conditions, they don’t get damaged easily. Hence they are very strong, durable, and long-lasting. 

  Is it safe to wear silicone strap watches?

It is completely safe to wear silicone strap watches as they are hypoallergenic, and they won’t cause any allergic reaction in people who have sensitive skin. Moreover, they are also anti-fungal hence no fungal outbreaks, and are very comfortable to wear. So you can safely wear silicone watches all day long during your adventure activities. 

  How to clean silicone strap watches?

Silicone strap watches require very less maintenance and are very easy to clean. You can wipe it with any clean cloth after every use so that the band remains clean and dry without any sweat and dirt. Moreover, they are water resistant, they don’t absorb any type of water or sweat. This is the reason it is easy to clean and lasts a considerable time. 

So now go to your favourite dream Himalayan Trek or High-Altitude Mountain Expedition and be on time and look stylish with Sylvi Silicone Watches beside you!!!

Source Link: https://sylvi.in/blogs/blog/role-of-silicone-watches-durable-and-comfortable-sylvi

[coghive]

The Kind of Heartbreak We Don’t Usually Talk About

In my second year in junior high school, I made a friend. No, actually, she made me. I was an introverted teen you see, still am but not as socially withdrawn as I used to be then. So, it was a Saturday morning and we needed to do laundry.  Somehow, we got talking about a drum to store water (it was a boarding school) and that was where we hit it off. She was a new kid in school that got recently transferred and she needed a friend; I did too. And boy was she a beautiful soul. She still is and I hope she gets to read this. Our dorm rooms were opposite each other and so we would do almost everything together. She would come to my room so we could observe our personal devotion together. We would go for classes together, the dining hall, the mini-mart, for sports, for prep, you name it. Heck, we even got to twin on our house wears sometimes. It was such a good time to be alive. She would make me laugh my stomach out. We laughed at the stupidest of things and we were happy. It was just one of the purest friendships I have ever experienced. But then it wasn’t always so rosy. The same way we could laugh at the stupidest of things was the same way we got into fights at the slightest irritation. Now, that I think of it, I can’t even remember anything in particular that made us fight but we did get into a lot of squabbles with each other.  Of course, we always made up but that didn’t guarantee that we wouldn’t fight again. Fights are a part of healthy relationships but what do you do when they get too much? So, one day, we had gotten into one of our usual squabbles. I had gone out of class during break time and when I got back, my friend said we needed to talk. Those words spelt doom; I should have known but my naïve mind just believed that we were going to work things out as usual.  We stood at a corner of the classroom and that day, I heard those cruel words for the first time in my life, “Blessing, we can’t be friends anymore. It’s over between us.” Right then, my heart broke. I heard a thud in my heart and I couldn’t believe my ears. What just happened? Did she just break our friendship up? I can’t express the pain I felt adequately in words but it hurt badly.  I mean we were so close that we had people coming up to us wanting to join our friendship circle. I had questions I wanted to ask. Like who was trying to sabotage what we had? Who had she been listening to? Who put her up to this? But there’s a little straight thinking you can do when you have just been rejected and your heart broken. I was eleven years old by the way. Things went downhill pretty much after that. By the third year of junior high, we were more like acquaintances. In senior high, we became friends again but things never went back to the way they were. Over the years, we’ve tried to keep communication open.  Now, we just wish each other happy birthdays and reply to funny memes once in a while. We haven’t seen each other in years even though we’re in the same city. And it is fine, I totally understand. We are all just swamped up with the challenges of adulthood. Some friendships are just for a season but that doesn’t make it hurt less when we lose them. I’m talking about quality friendships here. What I miss the most about this friendship is how free we were to bring out our inner child and how comfortable we were to just be each other.  It’s hard to find such pure, childlike, unadulterated friendships these days. This is the kind of heart break we rarely talk about. When our friends move to another state or relocate to another country and we lose them; we’re happy for them but it still breaks us to not have them be in our lives anymore.  When they know everything about us; our secrets, flaws, dreams, ambitions and all; and we just drift apart without warning, what do we do with the vacuum they leave? What do you do when the person you shared some of your most cherished moments with becomes a stranger to you? What happens when they die and leave you in this cruel world? The most important need of the human soul is genuine connection.  What do you do when you find a raw and deep connection with someone and it abruptly comes to an end? What do you do when you have news and you want to share it with them and you remember that y’all don’t vibe like that anymore? Friends come and friends go but some friendships are irreplaceable and when they end they leave the most debilitating effects. So, when are we going to start talking about the heart break of genuine platonic friendships? Read the full article

[nickgerlich]

Come Again?

I grew up in Chicago’s south suburbs in the 60s and 70s. While those were not exactly perfect times, especially considering the race riots Chicago had in the late-60s, they were pretty bucolic by today’s standards. Of course, the past always seems simpler by comparison, but it really was. We all had plenty of time to do everything we needed and more.

And one of the things that we did back then was to host garage sales. There is perhaps nothing more suburban than to gather up all your unwanted junk and clothing, put it on tables and racks, and put signs at every intersection for two miles. People would come in droves in search of bargains.

Of course, the very term “garage sale” is regional. It is common in much of the Great Lakes states, as well as the entirety of the nation’s midsection from North Dakota to Texas. In the southeast, they are called yard sales. In eastern Wisconsin, they are called rummage sales, and Connecticut and parts of Massachusetts call it a tag sale.

But I won’t hold it against any of them. It’s a garage sale, because they were typically hosted in the garage, something that by the 70s had become a two-car proposition. Of course, these days we all have so much junk we may not have room to have it in there, so we throw it all out on the driveway and yard. That’s another commentary for another day, though.

Resale has long been a thing in the US, but usually because people were looking for inexpensive knick-knacks, or, as in my case, unrecognized treasure. You’d be surprised how many fine collectibles have surfaced at garage sales, put on sale for pennies on the dollar by people who do not have the wherewithal to check eBay first. Of course, we didn’t have that in the 60s and 70s, so buyers were definitely in the power position if they knew their antiques.

But during times of inflation, not to mention the strong possibility that we are experiencing both inflation and recession—paging Jimmy Carter—we now find people, even the affluent, trolling resale stores. And that’s not to mention all the people off-loading things to generate cash flow. It’s a thing now. High income people are looking to secondhand stores to fuel their desire for luxury goods.

Brick-and-mortar franchised chains like Plato’s Closet and Once Upon A Child have been around a while, frequent locations for teens and young adults, as well as young parents, pawning off unwanted clothing items. There are resale furniture and sporting goods stores as well, although with the “quality” of furniture sold these days, I have a hard time imagining anything lasting more than five years, much less 10.

But now a new generation of resale has popped up. Clothes Mentor and Revolve function much like Plato’s Closet, but target higher-end women to bring in their unwanted designer outfits, purses, and shoes. It functions as a consignment shop, compared to the ones mentioned earlier, but the result is the same.

And then there are people who sell anything and everything on eBay and other sites. My wife does consignment selling on eBay, and has sold everything from toys and collectibles to sweaters and dresses. There’s a buyer for anything, apparently.

It is a phenomenon known as Recommerce, and it is growing rapidly these days, rising 15% in 2021, and predicted to grow 80% in the next five years. Not bad, especially when you consider that it is hitting a demographic that was once proud to buy only new items.

Sustainability fans love it as well, because it means less going to landfills. If we can circulate  still-usable items, we are being more responsible stewards of the tangible realm, not just financial. It is also a way to score hard-to-find items once their original owners tire of them, or gain/lose too much weight.

But then again, should we be surprised? There has been a resale market for autos for as long as cars have been sold. I haven’t bought a brand new vehicle since 1991; I‘m good with gently used. I just haven’t done it with clothes yet, if only because I don’t equate driving my 2019 Dodge van with wearing someone else’s clothes. I probably shouldn’t be so fussy, because I can always launder and re-launder any used clothes I could buy. Maybe it’s just that, as the eldest child, I never had to worry about hand-me-downs.

Let’s think about other things, though, like a bicycle or camera. You know, my two big passions. In my 38 years of cycling, I have purchased two used bicycles. You never know how the previous owner used those things, and subtle flaws like a hairline crack in a frame can make your purchase worthless, not to mention dangerous. As for cameras, I similarly have no clue how it was used. Did it ever get wet? Dropped? And how many clicks have you taken? The same goes for fancy lenses.

And yet there are bargains to be found, not to mention plenty of websites for quality used gear like these, as well as high-end clothing. If you know the previous owner, that’s one thing. But if you don’t, then it is truly caveat emptor. There better be some pretty big bargains for me to assume these risks, but I would be open nonetheless.

Marketers and retailers, though, would be wise to pay attention to this trend, because it could portend poor sales in months to come. Even states need to wise up, because any sales done in the front yard or garage, or via Facebook Marketplace, Craig’s List, and eBay, evade the sales tax collector.

Finally, if well-heeled shoppers are doing this, who is going to buy clothing at that fancy new Dillard’s in Amarillo? I haven’t been, but I hear it puts their previous location to shame.

Maybe I’ll just watch for some of those chinos I want to show up in the aftermarket. I can be cheap like that.

Dr “I Have Room In The Closet“ Gerlich

Audio Blog

[beforeyoufall-bk]

Inspiration Through Failure

'Murican Baseball!

I normally do not write about sports; I just partake in them as often as possible. But living in Japan while being a Seattle Mariners fan has sufficiently destroyed my work and sleep schedule enough, that today I felt compelled to write a bit about the Seattle Mariners. Also, if I did not incorporate them into this week’s blogpost, then I’d be suppressing a lot of what was going on in both my writing life and non-writing life. Something that’s definitely counterintuitive to any creative writing.

So, for today’s post I shall ponder on what the Seattle Mariners have shown me that could apply to anyone in the known universe, not just to baseball fans. Hmmm… I regret my decision immediately. Oh well, let’s give it a whirl.

Here are some things that the 2022 Mariners have taught me:

1. Adversity Reveals Character

“Adversity does not build character, it reveals it." -Scott Servais, Seattle Mariners Manager

So, for all you non-baseball fans, here’s the main thing you need to know about this team: the Seattle Mariners have not been in the playoffs for the past 21 years. Before this season, it was the longest playoff drought for ANY team in ANY major American professional sport. (A drought that ended this week.)

With all that said, the Seattle Mariners(and consequently, their fanbase), are no strangers to adversity or failure. But what Servais said is as true in baseball as it is in life: the struggles and adversity you experience do not build character, it only reveals it. No one likes to fail or struggle through tough times. So to give any credit to the adversity, other than it being a necessary obstacle to overcome, is not a healthy way to view the struggles and failures we will all experience throughout our life.

2. The Power of Belief (In Yourself, Your Dreams, And In Others)

No team in Major League Baseball has ever fallen behind 7 runs on the road in a playoff game and comeback to win it. But after today’s Mariner’s game, that can no longer be said in truth. (By the way, the league started in 1901)

If they had given up, they would have lost, but because they believed in themselves, they did what no other team has ever done. And that type of belief is something we have to work towards in life as well. You have to believe in yourself, even when everyone else and the history books are telling you that you can’t do it. Because if you don’t believe in yourself, no one else will.

I have worked with many people from different cultures and backgrounds, and in many different roles, and I can tell you with confidence that the biggest obstacle we each face is our lack of belief; whether it be the belief in yourself, belief in others, or belief in the methods or reasons of why you do what you do each day. If any of those beliefs falter, you may never discover whether or not what you’re working on is ever possible.

So, no matter what situation you find yourself in, whether you’re down by seven runs or stuck in a long slump, you always have to believe in yourself, and believe in your teammates who have the same goal or mission. That’s another important lesson that this year’s Mariners have taught me.

3. You Still Need Talent and Hard work

Of course, belief in yourself and others is important, but hard work and talent still play a huge role in any endeavor. In building a baseball team, or any community you become part of, each member must do their best to not just rely on one or two of these qualities that greatly influences the chances of success.

This year, the Mariners have acquired a lot more talent than in previous years; some home grown, some through trades and some through free-agency signings. But being a fan for decades has shown me it is not just the players — but the entire organization is full of talented people who work hard to make the team successful. And while they may not be the most talented team in baseball, they now have enough talent to be competitive.

Today I Learned — You Still Need Sleep

“May the Ichiro-like Samurai Spirit of the 2022 Seattle Mariners continue taking us on a magical ride with many more life lessons to learn.” -Me, Sleep Deprived

Since I live in Japan, these first two playoff games have unfortunately had a start time of 5 am. Watching these two games through a sleep-deprived haze has only made me doubt whether this is all happening in reality or not, but after waking from a power nap I see that it is all too real.

The Seattle Mariners have been one of the best stories in baseball this season, and they’ve also been one of the best examples of how to live your life. They’ve taught me how to believe in myself, how important talent is, and how adversity reveals character. For that, I will always be grateful to them — even if they don’t win a World Series this year (but hopefully they will). Go M’s!

またね

I hope these thoughts are helpful. Thank you so much for reading. I Agape-Love you all.

Until next time, God bless.

[aeide-thea]

went looking for plain embroiderable tees and hit a very scoopnecked one at which point i got sidetracked by my ongoing resentment at having to choose between baring collarbone and binding, like, @ my body what is UP with yr refusal to support the Androgynously Nubile Youth message i yearn to broadcast, rude tbh!!!