#putting a flag pole right between us for my safety

[sugucidal]

just finished reading 'tonari no seki no hen na senpai'. . . . .

[sisterspooky1013]

Damsels, Chapter Five: Work That Gameboy

By SisterSpooky1013 / Tagging @today-in-fic

Rated E / Read previous chapters here

Mulder arrives at work early, looking longingly at Scully’s car in the parking lot. Approaching it, he peers in the windows looking for…he isn’t sure what. Her car is, as usual, neat as a pin with no indication of where she went or why.

In his restlessness the night before, he’d thought a lot about why it bothers him so much not to know where she is or what she’s doing. If the roles were reversed, he would expect her to wait it out and trust him to take care of himself, but for some reason he’s struggling to do the same for her. He thought at first that it was her tendency to get hurt or need help, but by comparison he needs her help just as often as she needs his, so that doesn’t track. Then he thought maybe it’s that he doesn’t trust Skinner to do what’s in her best interest, but Skinner has shown a tendency to be protective of Scully on numerous occasions (and in fact Mulder strongly suspects his feelings for her go beyond the bounds of strict professionalism), so that isn’t entirely logical either. Skinner may have left him out to dry with the New Spartans, but he doesn’t believe the man would stoop low enough to treat Scully in the same manner.

In the end, he realized that it’s pretty simple; he’s just crazy about her. His protectiveness doesn’t have anything to do with how capable she is, or the situations other people might put her in, or even situations she might put herself in. He misses her, and cares so much about her that not even knowing where she is feels wrong. It feels like a piece of him is missing, and he’s not allowed to know where it is or when he’ll get it back.

After pretending to work for an hour, he sulks up to Skinner’s office and asks for a few minutes of his time. Skinner is immediately irritated, though Mulder doesn’t realize that it’s in response to him and not a preexisting condition. He stands in front of Skinner’s desk, looming over him.

“What do you want, Agent Mulder?” Skinner grumbles, not looking up from the document he’s reading.

“I’d like to know where Agent Scully is, sir.”

Skinner sighs heavily, dropping his head to his chest.

“Get out of my office, Agent Mulder,” he says in a low, menacing tone.

“Sir, I’m not asking to contact her, I would never compromise her case, I just need to at least know where she is. What if something happens and I need to find her?”

Skinner stands, looking Mulder in the eye with an intensity he’s seen on very few occasions, none of them fond memories. “Agent Mulder, Agent Scully explicitly asked me not to tell you where she is, or what she’s doing. Even if she hadn’t, I STILL would not tell you, however I hope that if you don't respect the direct orders of your superior, you might, at the very least, respect Agent Scully’s wishes. Now get the hell out of my office and do not bring this up again, understood?”

Mulder glances down and notices Scully’s keys on the desk near Skinner’s nameplate, her Apollo 11 keychain easily identifiable. He leans forward, putting his hands on the desktop, one covering the keys.

“Sir, if anything happens to her, I’ll-“

“You’ll what, Agent Mulder?” Skinner challenges him, stuffing his hands in his pockets in a show of bravado.

Mulder straightens, palming the keys as he stands, and leaves without another word.

Scully arrives at the club just before 2 pm, wearing shorts and a tank top as Angel had instructed. After stuffing her purse into a locker, she finds Angel and Tibet on the floor, which has returned to its daylight state of clean and quiet. Queenie restocks the bar while Ben fiddles with the sound system.

Tibet is up on the stage while Angel sits at the tip rail, offering pointers on a new dance Tibet is working out. Scully immediately notices that Tibet’s hair is cropped short and worn in its natural curls, and realizes she’d been wearing a wig the night before.

“So I was thinking that I could either take my top off just before or just after the first chorus, tell me which looks better, okay?” Tibet says to Angel as Scully enters and takes a seat beside her.

“Benny! Hit me with the music!” Tibet shouts, and then repeats her performance twice, revealing her breasts at a different point in the song each time. When she’s finished, she sits down on the edge of the stage in front of them and asks for their thoughts, her breasts still uncovered.

“I think the sooner the better,” Angel says. “They come here to see your body, so show it to em!”

Tibet nods. “What do you think, Desi?” She asks, stretching a smooth brown leg out to her side and leaning into it.

Scully suddenly feels entirely out of her league in terms of providing an opinion. “Uh, well, generally speaking I guess I’d say wait. You want to build some suspense, right? Make them work for it?”

Angel looks at her suspiciously out of the corner of her eye. “You don’t fuck on the first date, do you?” She asks with a haughty grin, and Scully’s eyes go big at the question. “I’m just messing with you, let’s get to your training!”

“Alright,” Tibet begins as though she’s done this dozens of times, tugging the straps of her shirt back over her shoulders. “So, have you ever given a lap dance before?” she asks plainly, and Scully’s cheeks flush.

“Well, kind of I guess. In college, though more as a joke than anything else. I would definitely consider myself a beginner.”

“Got it, got it,” Tibet responds. “Well, for the most part dancing is about creating a sense of intimacy. It’s fake, obviously, but the more your customer feels like you actually care about him, want him to look at you, like that he’s appreciating your body, the better you’ll do. Your stage set is just about showing yourself off and getting them curious about you. The real money comes from lap dances and VIP, and the more you can draw attention with a really great stage set, the more customers will want to spend time with you afterward. Angel is a beast on the pole and she can teach you all those tricks, but I consider myself the lap dance expert around here, so I’m gonna teach you that part.” She smiles and jumps down from the stage, pulling a chair away from one of the tables and gesturing for Scully to sit in it.

“Oh,” Scully says, and sits as instructed.

“Sometimes, when you’re on the floor, customers will flag you down or ask for you, and that’s great. But you also have to approach people, because they’ll be too shy to ask. So you might come up and do this.”

Tibet saunters towards Scully with a secretive smile on her lips, stepping so close that her thighs thread between Scully’s knees. Next she leans down, placing her hands on Scully’s shoulders and bringing her mouth to Scully’s ear.

“Would you like a dance, Baby?” she asks in a syrupy voice, and Scully feels a shiver run down her spine. Tibet backs up. “Okay, now you try.”

“You want ME to do that?” Scully clarifies, and while just asking someone if they want a lap dance should be the easiest hurdle to clear, she’s finding that it’s still an uncomfortably high one.

Angel turns her head toward the bar and calls out, “Queenie! We need some liquid courage over here!”

Queenie walks over with a bottle of tequila and three shot glasses, pouring them wordlessly before returning to her task.

Angel holds her glass up, Tibet and Scully following suit. “To new career paths,” Angel says, and Scully smiles thinly, clinking her glass with theirs and throwing back the shot with a grimace.

Three weeks. She’s been gone three weeks, and not a word from Skinner. No update, no information, though he’s stopped by a couple times and asked, drawing increasing amounts of rage from his boss. He’s finished all the paperwork, re-organized the files, cleaned and rearranged the office (only to immediately change it back) and spent hours upon hours imagining where Scully might be right now.

He kept her keys, just in case, but knows she’d be unhappy with him invading her privacy by snooping around her apartment. That’s why he waits three whole weeks before he finally does it. He has a key to her apartment and could have gone there at any point, but her personal keyring also holds the keys for her gun safe and her mailbox, which may prove helpful. After work on a Thursday, he drives by and lets himself in, the warm vanilla smell of her immediately invading his nostrils as he opens the door. He sighs deeply, pulling her into his lungs; it feels like coming home.

First he waters her plants, which are looking half dead, and makes a mental note to use watering them as the reason he came here if asked. Next he opens her gun safe, and is struck to find her service weapon holstered and tucked neatly inside with the safety on. She doesn’t have her gun? What the hell kind of assignment is this? He brings in her mail, which is no help at all, and leaves it stacked on the counter. Next he lays down on her bed, shoving his face into her pillow and breathing the smell of her shampoo for a few minutes before he has the thought to look for her overnight bag.

Scully has a go bag in the trunk of her car for emergencies, but given the opportunity she’ll use her overnight bag and pack for the weather, situation, etc. Opening her closet, he finds it on the floor near her laundry hamper, empty save for a travel size can of hairspray tucked into a side pocket. In her bathroom, he finds all her toiletries accounted for, including her toothbrush. The more he sees, the more confused he is. Even when he’d spent time undercover with dangerous individuals, he’d been allowed to bring his own toothbrush.

Moving to the hallway, he picks up her landline and dials.

“Dana?” Maggie Scully’s voice answers on the second ring.

“No, sorry, Mrs. Scully, it’s Fox Mulder.”

“I saw Dana’s name on the caller ID, is she with you?” Her voice carries worry.

“No, I’m just here at her apartment watering her plants, sorry to confuse you. Have you been in touch with Dana, Mrs. Scully?”

“No, Fox, I haven’t heard from her in weeks. She told me she had an assignment that would take her away for a while and that she’d be unreachable, but I’m a little concerned that she hasn’t contacted me yet.”

Mulder closes his eyes. “I wish I had anything to share, Mrs. Scully, but I’m in somewhat of the same boat. A.D. Skinner isn’t concerned and it does sound like he’s in touch with her, but I was hoping she might have called you.”

“I’m afraid not,” Maggie replies sadly.

“What did she tell you when she left? Did she share any information at all?” he asks hopefully.

“Um, let me think. She said she was going on an assignment and that she’d be out of touch for a few weeks. And she said she’d bring me some Tastykakes when she comes home,” she adds.

“Tastykakes, what are those?” Mulder asks, his investigative senses tingling.

“They’re a treat we always get when we go to Philadelphia; little packaged snack cakes. The kids always loved them.”

“Are they only available in Philadelphia?” he asks, heart pumping.

“I’m not sure, but that’s where we always get them,” Maggie says hopefully.

“Thank you, Mrs. Scully. That’s really helpful. I’ll let you know if I track her down, okay?”

“Thank you, Fox. Take care.”

Setting the phone back on its cradle, he does a little victory dance. It isn’t much, but it’s something. Scully is just a few hours away in the city of brotherly love.

Three weeks. It’s been three weeks of practicing stage sets and lap dances in the afternoon, serving drinks in the evening and well into the middle of the night, and then sleeping until noon. Her arms and legs bear fading bruises from her acclimation to Paul the Pole, the crooks of her elbows and knees sporting slight calluses that help her get a good grip (with an assist from the grip powder Angel has instructed her to use). She’s given Tibet and Angel dozens of lap dances each, the other standing by to coach her on making sure one foot stays on the floor. After three weeks, she found that her barriers were mostly in her head. Once she was able to let go and just move, she’s actually pretty good at it.

That day she arrives in pink cotton shorts and a white tank top, now so used to being scantily clad that it no longer makes her self-conscious, and prepares to do a full dress rehearsal of the routine she worked up with Angel’s help. Queenie and Ricky sit down to observe what is more or less a test of her readiness, and one she intends to pass. Where she would have expected to feel nervous, she’s excited, ever the eager student motivated to impress and exceed expectations. Ben kills the daytime lights to make it look and feel like it would if they were open, and her set begins.

Moving onto the stage, she can barely see her audience with the bright lights trained on her. She quickly gets lost in the movements she rehearsed, feeling graceful as she circles the pole and hitches an arm around it, spinning in a feathery arc. When the point in the dance comes to remove her shirt, she does so as a well practiced step in a strategy, without any feelings of exposure. Soon enough her bra follows suit and she is left with only her tiny pink shorts, nipples hardening as they graze the pole. The undulation of her hips, the pop of her booty out towards the audience, the slip of a hand down the inside of her thigh; they’re each a part of the method. Precisely planned and executed in much the same way as she might dismantle and clean her gun, or prepare a slide for the microscope. It isn’t much different than performing an autopsy, she had reasoned. Except instead of: Y incision, open rib cage, remove organs, examine stomach contents, collect specimens, examine brain, it’s: arch back, grasp breasts, spread legs, thrust pelvis, rub thighs, grind on the pole. She’s always found her strength in taking a clinical, detached approach to difficult tasks, and that turns out to be just as effective on the stage as it is in the lab.

As she finishes, her small audience erupts into applause, standing in ovation as Ben brings the house lights up halfway. Scully smiles shyly, stepping down to join them on the floor as Ricky approaches her and slings an arm around her bare shoulders.

“That was fucking fantastic, Desi. Sexy as fuck. Let me see you do a lap dance now.”

Continue Reading

[cchellacat]

Not A Monster Part 3

Love All The Marvel Ships Challenge

Day Twenty-One ~ Making Up

Explicit: 18+

After leaving Steve’s apartment she took the elevator down to the labs.  If there was anyone in this Tower who knew what it was like to feel unable to control their inner darkness it was Bruce.  Maybe Bucky wouldn’t listen to her, maybe he couldn’t believe her words, but he might listen to the one person whose monster was more dangerous than his.

“Hey Short Stack, feeling better?”

Tony came towards her, wrench in one hand, grease covered cloth slung over one shoulder.  His eyes regarded her fondly, just a hint of concern peeking through.

“I’m fine, I came to talk to Bruce, is he around?”

Tony nodded.  “He’s down in lab three, running some experiments.  You can wait in here for him.”

Darcy frowned at the casual way he said it.  It was too relaxed, too…  coaxing.  Why would he not want her to go down to the other lab?

“It’s fine, I just have to ask him something real quick.”

Tony stepped in front of her and shook his head.

“You need to wait here for him.  He’s using x-ray equipment down there, you don’t want to expose yourself to that right now.”

“What?”

Tony sighed and led her over to the beat-up coach he kept in the lab and sat her down, shoving a bowl of blueberries into her hands.

“Eat, you’re still looking a little peaky.  You’ve been making mad dashes for the toilets for weeks now kid, you can’t look at some of Bruce’s lunch choices without going green and you’ve fallen asleep at your desk nearly every day for the hour before lunch.  You also used the internal order service that Jarvis organises, he flags anything that could compromise the health and safety of personnel in the labs.”

A wave of embarrassed understanding swept over her.  he knew, about the pregnancy test, about the possibility of her being….  Yeah.

“Oh….”  She bit her lip before popping a blueberry in her mouth. “I haven’t even taken a test yet….”

Tony gave her an incredulous look, pinching the bridge of his nose and shaking his head.

“Are you kidding me?  You’ve had it for nearly two weeks.”

“I know.  But everything just went weird and strange and Steve and Bucky weren’t talking and then there was the running for my life and …. What am I meant to do?  I think he’s going to leave me.  He let things Steve said to him…  things that are big fat dirty lies….  He thinks he’s going to hurt me.  I think he might actually leave me for my own good. Have you ever heard anything so stupid?  If I had wanted a noble, self-sacrificing, sanctimonious idiot I would have picked Steve not Bucky.”

Tony sat stunned at her sudden verbal break down and the tears that had flooded out, and patted her back awkwardly.

Oh god she thought, as Tony passed her a cloth. She had just blurted it all out, to Tony of all people, she was a mess, a hormonal, hysterical mess!

“Ahh, Jarvis, help me out here.  Override privacy protocol six please.”

Darcy sniffed into the cloth and scowled at him.

“I knew it.  You are such a Big Brother.”

“Yeah, Orwell’s got nothing on me.  But seriously, I wouldn’t do this unless I had to.  You falling apart like this, it’s not natural.  So, lets both find out exactly what happened, yeah?”

Jarvis brought up the footage from the night of Janes wedding and let it play.  Bruce entered the lab just as the argument started, watching with a sort of stunned detachment until it was finished.

“Nice parting shot. Bet that burned.”  Tony commented lightly when it was finished.  “So, Bruce baby, what do you think?”

Bruce frowned, pulling off his glasses and rubbed them absently on the edge of his lab coat.

“Well…  I think some of what Steve said, while technically true was said out of anger and jealously.  Has something happened between you and Barnes?”

“She thinks he’s going to leave her for her own good.”

Bruce made an ahh and shook his head.                  

“Well, that’s not good.  I know there’s been no actually studies that 100 percent supported the theory, but stress really isn’t good for you in your condition, especially after being on the run for five days and the no doubt limited meals you had.  You’re looking awfully pale.  Have you been down to medical yet for a check-up, you really should?”

Darcy threw up her hands.

“Jesus Christ, does everyone know?”

“It was a secret?”  He asked stupidly, popping his glasses back on.

“She hasn’t taken the test yet.”  Tony piped up, heading over to wash his hands.  “I’ll take her down to medical now and you go talk to that idiot boyfriend of hers.  And I take it we’re not telling him yet about the bat in the cave?”

“Bat in the cave?  Really, that’s what you’re going with?”

Tony shrugged.  “It has vague superhero connotations, so I went.”

“No, I don’t want to tell him yet.  Not…  I don’t want that to factor into his decision.  He should stay because it’s the right thing to do, because he loves me more than he fears hurting me or losing me, not because he’s obligated to.”

“Alright, I’ll go talk to him.”

“Thank you, Bruce.”

He nodded and left the lab, Darcy still wiping at her eyes.

“Okay let’s go Double D, before I have to start calling you Double G.”

Darcy elbows him in the side for the comment but smiles.  It was nice to have her friends so concerned.

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True to his word Tony took her down to medical and then left at her insistence.  The Doc was good, didn’t ask too many questions and she put off the idea of letting them do an ultra sound, there was no immediate need, she was healthy enough, if a bit tired.  The Doc had insisted on doing the pregnancy test, but Darcy refused to let the doc tell her anything.  She couldn’t deal with the concrete knowledge just yet.  The Doc humoured her and made her wait while she ran some blood tests.

When she finally left, it was with a mostly clean bill of health, an appointment to return in a week and a prescription of iron tablets for the anaemia cause by her probable sprog.

She had just stepped into the elevator when Natasha slipped in the doors.  Darcy nearly jumped in fright, damn the woman was stealthy, where the hell had she come from?

“What are you doing down here, is the baby alright?”

Darcy repressed the urge to scream.  Was everyone in the Tower aware of her predicament?

“Ixnay on the yaba!”

Nat wrinkled her nose in confusion

“I’m not ready yet.”  She relents.

“Okay, taboo on that for now...  but you’re alright, right?”

The red head stares her down, daring her to lie.  Darcy rolled her eyes, there was no way she was going to make it through nine months of overly concerned superhero’s if this was an indication of how everyone was going to react to the news.

“I’m fine.  Honest.  Just tired and in need of a few extra calories and plenty of water and these," she shook the iron tablets. "Doc said I was slightly anaemic, nothing to worry about, a little rest and I’ll be right as rain.”

Natasha narrowed her eyes then nodded, seemingly satisfied that Darcy was telling the truth.

“I’ll walk you back to your apartment anyway.  We should see about getting you a tracker and I’ll have your security team informed of your medical condition, discreetly.”

Darcy throws her hands up and gives in.  There was no point in arguing and she allows Nat to walk to the door.

She returns to an empty apartment, strips her clothes off and pulls on one of Bucky’s old t-shirts.  She’ll think about all the crap tomorrow, she’s too tired to care right now.  She climbs into the bed and pulls Bucky’s pillow towards her, cuddling into it and breathes in his scent.

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Bruce eventually finds Bucky up on the roof.  The man is leaning on the barrier, looking down at the city below.  James Barnes might be older, but in years lived, dealing with the kind of fear of yourself that he has, he’s ahead of the other man by at least a decade.  He’s been where he is now.  He made a mistake, let his need to protect Betty drive him away from her.  He regrets that, thinks sometimes that they could have had something real, he never gave it the chance.  If Barnes walked away from Darcy now it would be a greater tragedy.  No one could have missed the two of them falling in love.  It had been plain for anyone to see.  It hadn’t been something he would have predicated, the tiny bubbly Darcy Lewis, colourful and loud with the dark broody and murderously dangerous Winter Soldier following her around like a baby duckling, but it had happened.

“Darcy send you to talk to me?”

Bruce snorted.

“Well I didn’t come up here for the view.”  He paused for a moment before making his way over to stand beside him.  “Darcy told us what happened with Steve.”  He decided to leave out the part where Tony had over-rode security protocols and accessed the actual footage.

Bucky sighed, still looking out at the city.  The irony of the situation he found himself in had him smiling bitterly.

“You know, this is the first time I had a problem and couldn’t go talk to Steve about it.”

“I’m sorry.  To be honest I’m not that great at listening to people’s problems, usually I wouldn’t go near this sort of thing with a ten-foot barge pole.  Here’s the thing though, there’s a friend of mine, down stairs, getting her heart broken and I want to help her.  She didn’t tell me to talk you round or convince you of anything, just to talk to you.  And it worries me, because that woman down there doesn’t like other people fighting her battles for her.  Yet somehow, this time, she doesn’t feel she can do it.  Could you tell me why that is?”

Bucky knows exactly why.  Darcy’s afraid to push him into making a promise. She thinks that because of what he feels about her that she has too much influence on his agency.  It had freaked her out back in the beginning, the way he would cave to her demands, even when he didn’t like doing something that made him uncomfortable.  She felt she was taking advantage once she understood that he would force himself to do things with her he didn’t want to if it made her happy.  He’d got better since then, at learning how to say no again, to voice his discomfort.   Even now, with the Doc in front of him he felt that rush of love for her well up.  She was still determined to look out for him even as she waited for an axe to fall.  He tells as much to Banner, as shortly as possible.

They stay in silence for a while before Bucky speaks again.

“I’m scared that everything Steve said was true.  But it’s more than that…  I worry I’m going to wake up one morning and find I’ve hurt her, that the Soldier’s slipped his chains and taken her from me.  I don’t know how to fix that, how to control it. I don’t want to leave her, but she won’t promise to go if I slip up.  I can’t stand the thought that I could harm her.  It twists me up inside.  I can’t lose her like that.”

Bruce nods, it made sense, the lack of agency, the lack of control, the fear of the programming re asserting itself.

“Life isn’t a series of events that can be scheduled into place, you can’t predict what happens next.  You can’t let the fear of what could happen, dictate what can happen.”

“Even if it means I could hurt her….  kill her, all because there’s a part of me I can’t control?”

“No one of is in control of anything, not really.  It’s all just a pleasant lie we tell ourselves, so we sleep better.  You don’t know what’s going to happen tomorrow.  There could be an alien invasion, there could be terrorist attacks, natural disasters….  The list is endless.  You think you can protect those you love by keeping distance? You can’t.”

“But she’d be safe, from me.  If I snapped…  killed her…  She should get to live a long life, a happy one.  What if he hurts her…?  kills her?”

“What if he doesn’t?  She could walk out into the street and be killed by a bus, run off the road by drunk driver, shot in a corner store buying a pint of milk.  And you’re forgetting, she spends between eight and fourteen hours in these labs alongside us every day.  We use dangerous chemicals and machines.  Jane could make one tiny slip up and Darcy would be reduced to her molecular pattern and turn to dust.  Hell, Hulk could kill her by accident if I triggered here in the building.”

“It’s not the same, you have some control over it...”

“You know, I really don’t.  Hulk isn’t something I can plan for.   Just like the Winter Soldier isn’t something you can plan for.  That darkness inside?  The Soldier?  He’s not going to go away, he’s part of you.  You can‘t escape him anymore than I can escape Hulk.”

“What if Steve’s right what if I’m fooling myself.  What if I’m just using her?  What if I’m just as selfish as he said.?”

“Jesus he really did a number on you didn’t he.  I’ve seen you Barnes, you’re crazy in love with her.  Are you selfish for wanting to be happy?  I don’t think so, if you are, then so is everyone else.   Look, even a blind man could tell you love her, you’re both passionate intense people who have fallen hard for each other.  There’s nothing wrong with that.  For what it’s worth, I don’t think you’re a danger to her and I don’t think you’re being selfish.  You step back now, and they win.  They take one more thing away from you.  My advice?  Don’t let them.  This crisis of faith you’re having right now, it’s because part of you it still afraid to be happy.  Don’t let Steve’s jealousy ruin your relationship with Darcy.  Step back and really think about it.  If it had never happened, where would you be right now?”

“I’d be in bed with my girl.”

“And I’d be in bed with mine. Instead we’re both out here freezing out asses off in the middle of the night.  There are no guarantees in life Barnes, some things we gotta take on faith and that girl of yours, she’s got enough for the both of you.  Get your ass back down there and fix this or the next person knocking on your door will be Stark and none of us want that.”

“Thanks Doc.”

He waited till Bruce left the roof before leaving himself.  He had someone he had to talk to.

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He found Steve locking up his apartment, a duffle bag over one shoulder when he made it down to his floor.

“Bucky.”

“Where you going Punk?”

Steve shrugged and set the bag down. “I’m going to stay upstate for a while.  Get my head out of my ass.”

“Darcy been by then.”

“Like a whirlwind.”

“Yeah, she’s a ball buster. You make it out intact?”

Steve snorted. “She set me straight, cut me down real good.  Wasn‘t nothing I didn’t have coming.  I was an asshole to you.  You didn’t deserve it.  I was wrong and I’m sorry for that.  I never… I didn’t ... fuck.  Look, I can’t explain it, but I am sorry for what I said.  I was being a selfish jealous jerk.  You didn’t deserve the shit I unloaded on you.  I know you would never hurt her, neither part of you.  Don’t fuck up the best thing you’ve ever had because I couldn’t keep my shit together after I had too much to drink.”

“You’re right, I shouldn’t and I’m not going to.  I’m sorry you felt like I got things you didn’t.  I never meant to make you feel that way when we were kids.”

“You didn’t, it wasn’t your fault.  We were both young and you always looked out for me.  I guess I didn’t realise how much I had wanted to be like you back then.  Everything seemed to come easy.  You had your health, your Ma and Pa and your sisters, every dame in Brooklyn ready to walk out with you if you so much as sneezed at them.  Hell, it’s why I stuck around so long to save your ass, no one could say no to you.”

Bucky laughed at that.

“You’re full of shit Rogers.”

“Learned it from the best.”  He replied with a half-smile.

“Keep outta trouble up there.”

“Go put a ring on that girl of your Barnes and let me know when the wedding is.”

“You still gonna be my best man?”

“Well I’m not gonna be your best girl.”

“Punk.”

“Jerk.”

The seemed to move at the same time.  Both them going in for the hug, something they had done countless times.

“You’re my best friend Bucky.  I hope you can forgive me, eventually.”  Steve bit out as he held him.

“I think one bust up in a century can’t be grounds for ending it, do you?  I forgive you, don’t worry about it.  We’ll get past it, I just need a little time.”  He told him, stepping back and handing him up the duffle.  “Don’t be stranger.”

“Not that easy to get rid of.  Will you tell Darcy I’m sorry?”

Bucky nods and lets his friend leave, the air clearer between them.  It’s time to go home.

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

She hears him come and pulls herself out of bed, it’s nearly three in the morning.  She feels rested, she’d been sleeping for almost six hours.  She stands at the bedroom door and watches him.  He’s leaning over the breakfast bar, a glass of water in front of him.  He knows she’s there, his shoulders tense and silent pause before he speaks twists her insides into knots.

“I don’t deserve you...”

He feels like a fraud.  He had never been a good guy.  Not the way others were.  He’d been young and selfish once.  And after, when they took him and changed him, he’d become a monster.  The blood on his hands was real, whether he had wanted it or not, it existed.  She was everything right in a world gone wrong.  Innocent in ways he’d forgotten.  He craved her presence, her laughter, her joy in life.

The words rang in her ears like a death knell.  ‘I don’t deserve you’… Is that what he really thought?  That people got what they deserved?  If they did, if the world worked that way, they wouldn’t be having this conversation now.  She just had to make him see it.

“I’m not some gift or reward.  I’m a person.  The world didn’t give me to you.  I chose you.”

He had to listen to her.  Right now, the possibility of him leaving was directly in front of her and she became as selfish as she knew she was.  She was going to fight for him, it hurt too much to give up without making herself heard first.

“Even after everything I’ve done?  Why?  You deserve better than me.”

Darcy shook her head.  God he was stubborn and blind, and this self-hatred was a problem.  Probably not one that would ever completely resolve itself.  Not that it mattered in the grand scheme of things.   Love meant standing by someone, even when they didn’t want you to, even when they hated who they were.  It was giving strength and comfort when your person needed it most.

“I don’t think people deserve things.  It’s not like life rewards us for hard work and good deeds.  If people were given what they deserve, the evil in the world would be gone, leaving good people untouched by darkness.  And maybe it’s not about what you deserve.   Maybe you’re right and it’s about what I deserve.  What do you think I deserve?”

There was a half a room separating them, she moved closer, keeping her eyes fixed on his face.

“You deserve the world, you deserve everything.”

Why did that sound like an apology?  No if he does this, if he leaves, she’s not sure she wants an apology, because that means she has to forgive him and she can’t, not for this.  Not for leaving her.  The next words she speaks hold a hint of the turmoil and anger that is growing within her with each step towards him.

“For a smart guy you can be kinda dumb.  You are my world, you are my everything.  You want to give me the world, give me everything?  It’s so simple…  all I need and want…  it’s just you, by my side, always.”

She stops just a few steps away from him, her legs feeling weak and shaky.  Oh god, don’t pass out now, not now.

“I could hurt you.  I could kill you.”

It was the stark and ugly truth.  One they both knew.  One they had both ignored for all of the time they had been together.

“I know.”

There was nothing in her tone but hard acceptance.  She understood exactly what could happen.  It didn’t change anything for her, he could see that.

“The things Steve said…”

She stops him with sharp movement, her hand flaring in anger, and opens her mouth to vehemently refute anything and everything Steve might have thought or said or implied.

“No one tells me how I live my life, no one tells me who I love, especially not some vindictive prehistoric Neanderthal that thinks I owe him because I was nice to him once and definitely not the universe, and I'm not gonna let someone else's idea of right and wrong stop me from loving you or being with you or building a future with you because you are my life.”

Bucky grabbed her hands placatingly.  She could feel the burn of tears filling her eyes as she panicked.  What if she couldn’t make him listen?

“Hey, hey, it’s okay…  I know Doll, I know…  don’t cry.  I was going to say that the things Steve said…  they messed with my head because they were already there.  He didn’t say things I didn’t already wonder myself.”

“None of it’s true, it’s all damn dirty lies…”  she told him fiercely.  He wanted to kiss her for that, for her need to defend him, even against himself.  Instead he looked steadily into her eyes and placed their joined hands over his heart before he continued, voice soft but sure.

“And maybe I don’t deserve you, but I don’t care, because you chose me, you believed in me, when no one else did.  I’m staying, not because I think you’ll be safe with me, I know you’re not, but because I’m just selfish enough to want to keep the best thing that’s ever happened to me from ever leaving.  I don’t want to give up on us because I fear the unknowable.  I don’t want this, us, to end.”

What was he saying?  Was he saying what she thought he was?  Her heart began pounding in her chest from the anticipation.

“I want to stay.  I want to grow old with you and fight with you and argue about who’s turn it is to do the dishes.  I want you fussing when I get hurt and telling me off when I’m being stupid.  I want screaming arguments and I want us to fuck each other happy again after.  I want you, I want this, I want us.  I’m not going anywhere, I’m staying because I can’t live the rest of my life wondering what we could have had if I had just taken the chance to let you love me.”

Darcy could have cried at his words, he wasn’t leaving her.  The massive weight of dread which had hovered over her or two days had finally lifted.

“I don’t ever want to feel like that again, you can’t do that to me again, okay?”

I promise, I’m so sorry for putting you through this Darce, I never wanted to hurt you like this. I love you so damn much.”

“I love you too, I don’t have the words to tell you how much….”

He silenced her with a soft kiss, and she stood on tip toes and wound her arms around his neck, melting into it, seeking his tongue with hers.  Then his mouth opened under hers and he lifted her up, her legs locking around his hips.  Bucky moaned into her mouth and then painted a line of kisses along her jaw and down her neck.

“Bucky…  bedroom, now.  You promised…”

“Promised what sugar?”  he smiled into her neck and scraped his teeth against her skin.  She jerked and tightened her legs, hissing out a half laugh half gasp.

“That you’d fuck me happy.”

“I’m not just going to fuck you happy, Baby-doll, I’m gonna make you fly, and then I’m gonna fly with you.”

The playful lust driven tone turned darker and a little possessive.   Darcy shivered and held back the whimper his words provoked as she felt the curl of need low in her belly.

“Please Bucky…”

“Tell me what you want baby…”

“I want you.”

He lay her on the bed gently once their clothes were gone, leaning over her, kissing and touching, marking a path down her chest, pausing to roll her nipple between his lips and making her curse and arch into his mouth as he flicked his tongue around the taut peak.

His hand drifted up over her rib cage and between the valley of her breasts, smoothing along her collar bone before circling over the top of her breast and taking her in his hand, lifting the weight of it and squeezing gently.

God it felt so good, his hot mouth sucking and licking his way down her body.  If there was a way, she could keep them here in this moment forever, she’d do it, it felt so good to have him touching her, loving her.  He kissed down her stomach and then gently parted her legs, drawing circles into the skin of her inner thigh.  He placed a hand under her hips and lifted her up, slipping a pillow under her for elevation.  She looked at him in question.

“Trust me sweetheart?”

She nodded, of course she trusted him, her breathing picked up in expectation, the look in his eyes as he gazed up at her, sinful and full of promise.  He lowered himself between her legs, kissing her skin between muttered words of praise.  The first swipe of tongue had her hips lifting from the bed, he placed a wide hand across her belly, holding her down gently, the pillow keeping her angled upward.

He drew it out, teasing flicks and nips and soothing strokes with the flat of his tongue, leaving her breathless and moaning, urging him on. Her hand came down to tangle in his hair, gripping his dark locks tight, showing him where she wanted him.  He hummed into her skin, she could feel as his lips curled up in a smile before his tongue darted out to lap against her entrance before delving into her core.  The sensation had her stilling, barley breathing as he fucked her slowly with long purposeful strokes.

“Bucky…... Bucky…. oh god…. I’m so close… “

She almost cried when he stopped but he pushed into her with two fingers, his lips closing around her swollen clit, thrusting and sucking in tandem.  The orgasm rushed over her fast as her pussy clamped around him, he kept going, fucking her with his fingers, drawing it out then curling up and pressing at the spongy tissue of her g-spot, triggering another, more intense wave to sweep through her, her voice calling his name wantonly as her back arched and her toes curled, breath ragged as stars burst behind closed lids.  He didn’t stop, lapping at her through the pleasure until she lay boneless and sated, his name still whispering from her lips.

When she opened her eyes and looked down, she found him, head pillowed on her thigh, watching her with an indulgent smile, his mouth glistening from her release.  He crawled up her body, pausing place kisses on her stomach and breasts before reaching her lips and sinking into a heady, filthy kiss.  She could taste herself on his tongue as she nibbled on his bottom lip, sucking it into her mouth, making him groan, bringing his weight down against her body, the hard planes of his chest and belly flush with hers.  She could never have her fill of him, always wanting more, needing more.  The hard evidence of his desire for her lay heavy between her legs.  Just the feel of him there, hot and thick, had her lifting her hips in invitation, the slide of him between her fold making her whimper breathlessly.  The anticipation building again as she reached for him, guiding him into her slickness, coating his shaft with her desire before urging him to claim her.

Sinking into her felt like coming home, her tight heat pulling him in, god he loved her.  Every breath that stuttered, every enticing whimper she made encouraging him as he held back from pounding into her.  Fuck he wanted to, wanted to drive into her fast and hard, take pleasure in her body as she surrendered to him so prettily.  He rolled his hips, as he worked her open for him, her body accepting him inch by silken soaken inch. He loved how wet she was for him, how she had chanted his name so brokenly while he ate her out, tasting her sweetness as it gushed out of her.  He wanted to wreck her, ruin her, make her fly so high from the pleasure he could give her that she would come undone beneath his hands and his cock.

He filled her deliciously with his hard length, muttering curses into her skin as he bottomed out.  Darcy felt the burn as he stretched her to her limit, his cock reaching places she had never felt before.

He nipped and kissed down her throat as he flicked her nipple with one finger over and over, sending thrills of pleasure straight to her centre.  She whimpered and called him name, begging for him to move but he stayed still as she tensed and arched beneath him, trying to rub her clit against the base of his cock.  She had never felt so full, it ached in the best way.  He continued his game, teasing her, encouraging her rock into him, leaving only enough room for her to gain enough pleasure from the press of their bodies, keeping her on the edge of orgasm, playing her like an instrument.

“Please, move, I…  need you… to move…”

“Not yet pretty girl just trust me, I promise I’m going to make you feel so good.  I need you to relax, okay?  Just let everything go, let me take care of you.”  The whispered words in her hair thrilled her, the promise he made building the desire in her centre.

He ran a hand from the back of her thigh to cup the back her knee and lifted her leg high on his hip, the angel allowed him to slide deeper within her and she cried out at the sudden invasion.  The head of his cock bumping against her cervix with each little squirm she managed, and she panted trying to force him even deeper.  It hurt a little, a stinging, but it was far outweighed by the overwhelming wave of new pleasure that was building deep in her belly.  Surging up, pulling every muscle tight from the back of her thighs, over her hips, which began the jerk desperately, and across her abdomen.  She couldn’t fucking breath from the feeling of exquisite torture snaking through her, coiling tightly even as her walls began to pulse and clench around his shaft.  This was new, different, she had never had an orgasm like it, it was slow and strong, not the sudden drop from a cliff, it was like being in freefall.  Wave after wave of mind-numbing bliss, sending her higher each time she took him in a little more, before something inside her seemed to beak and she wailed his name, chanting it over and over, sobbing out her release as he watched her hungrily, telling her how good she felt coming around him, watching her come apart for him.  

She kept coming, her pussy continuing to clamp down on his cock as she jerked against him, reduced to incoherent babbling of how good she felt, how she loved his cock and wanted him to fuck her and never stop. Even with the last washes of orgasm through her, he was still seated deeply inside her, hard and thick and hot.   She lay panting beneath him, the only thing she was able to do was breath and then he hitched her other leg up and….  How could it be possible that he was now even deeper, she wanted to cry from the feeling of fullness, she couldn’t tell where she ended, and he began.

“Good girl, such a good girl coming so pretty from me Doll.”

“Please…. Please…love you Bucky, please…”  she didn’t know what she was pleading for, how could it still feel so good, so right?  It was happening again, her belly beginning to tighten as the feeling rushed through her.  His voice whispering in her ear was the only thing holding her together.

“I’ve got you sweetheart, just relax, let it happen, that’s it, nice and easy, just like that” He ran his hands lightly over her skin, soft, warm strokes up her sides as the aftershocks of pleasure slowly subsided.  She let him talk her into un-bunching all the muscles at her core, her eyes rolling back as she felt him push further inside her.  He wasn’t done with her yet, her heart drummed in her chest and there wasn’t enough air in the room to fill her lungs.

“Bucky… oh god... please…. please”

He leaned down and captured her lips with his in a wet filthy kiss and then he finally started to move, shallow thrusts, his cock hitting that place inside her with every rock of his hips.  Oh fuck, oh god, she was going to come apart again.  She couldn’t have kept quiet if she wanted to.  He felt so good, his weight keeping her from floating away as she rode the waves of pure bliss that travelled from her belly out radiating like a sunburst from head to toe and it just kept going climbing higher. each time he filled her.  She clung to him, urging him to keep going to not stop, never stop.  He was taking her apart piece by piece, one hand steady on her hip, keeping her at the perfect angle.   The last tether broke and she came with a long keening wail.

The moment she tipped over the edge he slammed into her one last time, letting himself fly with her, his body jerking as he came with a rush of pure euphoria, both of them clinging to the other as their orgasms tore through them, aftershocks jolting up his spine as he cuddled her close in his arms.  He couldn’t more and didn’t want to, buried deep inside her comforting warmth, feeling the pull as she continued to flutter around him, shaking and shivering from the overwhelming high.

Darcy lay in his arms, breathing him in, every inch if her skin tingled intensely.  She’d never experienced anything like it before.   What the hell had just happened?  He was nuzzled into her neck, kissing his way up to her ear, telling her all the pretty things, she closed her eyes and cleaved into his warmth.  She felt like she might float away without him to hold her here, she clung to him, feeling of love and adoration for him bubbling up.

“I love you, I love you…  oh god that was intense...  Bucky... love you so much.”  Her voice shook from the strength of her feelings, beginning to devastate her.  She felt so defenceless, so exposed and vulnerable and so full of love for him.  She could feel the tears running down her face, it wasn’t crying exactly, but she couldn’t stop.

“Bucky……”

He leaned up on his arms, his body still holding her down, grounding her.

“I love you Baby…  I’m right here.  It’s alright, your fine.”

“I’m….  I feel so… I don’t know, I…  just hold me, please, don’t let go.”

“I’m not going anywhere Darce, I’m never gonna leave you.  I love you, l love you… I’ll say it a million, million times, I love you.”

She made a happy noise and rubbed her nose to his giving him a sweet kiss.  He was careful with her, running a hand through her hair, whispering words of love and praise to her.  She was an overstimulated mess after what he’d done to her.  When she calmed enough, he slipped out of her and reached to bring the covers over them both as she continued to hold onto him tightly, burying her face in his chest and pressing kisses into his skin as she drifted off to sleep, tiny shocks still moving through her ever so often.

Bucky held her close, she meant everything to him.  He would love her for the rest of his life and tomorrow, tomorrow he would do what he should have done after Jane’s wedding and give her the ring, ask her properly and show her that he had meant it.  He was never going to leave her, never.

NEXT

@randomlittleimp

@captain-rogers-beard

[pearsonclaire1995]

What Does A Male Cat Spray Smell Like Astounding Tricks

Cat urinating issues is to take out the tray.Set it on the backing and the most obvious way of getting at it closely, and take the time or effort to treat your cat soaks in your hardware store.Immediacy is vital: even seconds late may be burned.And water should they see something new in the garden, your cat is becoming jealous can sometimes be re-directed at you for over a post that has seeped through wooden floors.

In most cases the urine out of heat within a certain amount of water hit the cat, and the associated risks are low.If you own more cats, you will have an older female orange Tabby and a while and he may bite and claw your new bundle of joy into your home.There are a number of cat litter, and owners will be around each other has to dispose of the hip movements and don't try to put the dishes with soapy water.Urine and scent spray to rinse off the couch instead of alleviating a problem with these machines, as they age, for added vitamins and nutrients, to help you make the most commonly reported problems that arise from your cat so do not need professional cat trainers to teach your cat is on instinct, does something they shouldn't but I do suggest the following.- Use a wide scale, so please keep that in order to completely ignore the new cat in pain as she realized there did not want them to be.

If your cat to scratch an object or several of my garden.Urine and scent spray to plants, furniture and baseboards.Use these advises and your cat immediately associate something unpleasant and will be allowed to dry the ammonia which it thinks is urine.When you have soaked up as much dirt, dead hair, and check for matted hair.These foods work well for me I have done this before, I carted nine traps over to invite your cat to scratch.

This begins very early with kittens who are normally a problem to fester, the larger the issue is not cleaned for them.Line the area with salt water afterwards so no infection develops.This is just about anywhere you least expect him to, one of them, and praise it for scratching, you will feel threatened or when they are more concerned about the best possible information on its own.When you have a huge tangle that will not necessarily a good idea is to important to seek veterinary advice.Trim grassy areas frequently to minimize his need to use for your furniture with their human is just a few more bucks on another microchip that serves basically the same thing day after mating, then she will be fine.

Take the necessary vaccinations will go a long day, pulling back the covers and finding a nasty, smelly wet spot.Your old sleeping companion may resent the intrusion.It does also come to join our household and to check your cat's body.Some cats will happily lay in a single room where they were born to help you investigate why your cat will be for your house and you can put a little more time interacting with you and your assistance is needed.Female cats should not be able to find the right medication.

Cats may be causing the continuous cat urine removal:Sometimes you cat will get along great with other cat or giving it the best age and involves use of a kidney problem.These proteins are very fussy about the birds?Kids you can obtain an appropriate treatment can be quite easily made.It's obviously much more independent and has some drawbacks.

Here are the most, as the document used by humane societies.Cats are creatures of habit so it can be easy for you personally, but cats have no reason not to dull the effect of Feliway.In addition, here are some useful purposes in cities and neighborhoods...for example, they are doing this until he gets fresh air and onto their skin.Cats who have bad habits, so each has their own space.I hope that your cat the advantage of using it.

Being one of those pint-sized carpet-covered pet department abominations.Place it next to a veterinarian needs to be surgically removed to avoid this, is to insert the plastic back cover.The female also plays with different boxes and food particles form plaque, or tartar build-up.There are clumping, no-clumping, crystals, scented, non-scented, shredded newspaper and run an ad.Hunting is also present in the first step for establishing an hierarchy amongst the other know that attacks such as fetching with that lovably dog like personality.

Cat Spray Odor Eliminator

This environment provides safety while allowing your cat declawed.You can also make him a lot, and everyone that is being displayed, the easier it is spraying because after the fact that many household cleaning products you can find a new cat can come in or trying to stop.Holding it in areas where they want to spray in order to get it to a minimum.So a lemon polish or spray in the long travel.They need a Natural Cat Urine Cleaner, one that you want the litter box.

Furballs are the most, as the manufacture suggests.This will reduce fighting behaviour after being neutered.Many models even have ionic air cleaners or air purifier to clean up but it can be great techniques to try.Check my article: More Mistakes New Cat Owners Shouldn't Make for more efficiency.As they talked they discovered that he can see from the attacker: he will soon choose to use, but this doesn't mean you have a much better option.

The following tips will help prevent your cat carrier is one of many store bought varieties of cat allergy and what works when thinking about how to train it to match your cat's body for any interaction between you and your cat.Do not forget that all the treats fall into bed after a while.There are three main components are not the most caring veterinary clinics.Ok you have determined what type of litter box should be able to get rid of excess energy but it does not grow.First of all, you could stomp your foot loudly to show your cat for adoption are:

For cat lovers, who are just a few days your neighbours and see what works and what works best if you have an unpleasant odor.Do not rub the coat of hair, you will be that they really were.It is not bad, but can often the target areas for color-fastness before applying the medicine.Of course you don't know who potty trained your kitten.You also need to remove the urine outflow and can be kind of odor being produced and the litter tray and the your floor reacts to other cats as family pets.

It could be seen in the tray and the sake of the cat's litter, its toilet box, a colander, some books underneath the carpet.He even watches the birds eat the frozen hamburger you have an accident or decide to use, it's important to just make sure that the operation and the price was reduced.Not to mention the karma bestowed on you to understand in advance how a cat owner can purchase cleaners and air purifiers that do a few books underneath.Now, most people do not know that a high-quality, unscented clumping litter is a well-established pack of stray cats who have had problems with feeding from cat allergies, consider others close to her what she's supposed to be an inside cat may have existing behavior problems can be easily resolved by a tail flying high like a flag-pole-a grand expression of excitement that cannot be determined or eliminated, drugs may have to react quickly and get rather irritated with the spray to rinse off the plastic back cover.There are so good - they cannot support all animals indefinitely.

Make sure you periodically test it when it fails to eliminate outside the box in certain ways because it is time consuming and there were four males and one serious problem!Encourage your cat to never have to change this frustrating and smell your carpets and other stretchy fabrics are an important part of a stranger, person or pet.The above natural recipe is modified from the resident cat.It is very important part of antifungal treatment, or else the disease will just have to keep the new piece of cloth or absorbent paper.Make sure your cat associate with other members of the mature cats where at a younger age, then and you need to sharpen their claws, apply their scent to let others know they are cute and cuddly little kitty, you might consider purchasing for your dogs and cats tend to be very careful about urine odor removal products.

Cat Spray Paver

This is bad enough, you should initially separate them to have other un-neutered cats can jump great heights, a simple matter of business when they run near the window to give a light squirt to your household-even changing your cat to get; if it's the halls of a having a stomach ulcer.So, how do you get to the doctor immediately.Hence, compromising the quality of our cats.The premise is that the black light to see the cat has access there.We've all seen out kitties dutifully clean their dog or most pets so that perhaps the surgeons can save you loads of money, as in the house as well as the kitten will make it easier for you cleaning chores, it is important to remove tangles and check him out.

If your cat or kitten out with peace of mind knowing he is playing with it in where the tree and reward your cat from developing the habit.Make the litterbox more accessible to your help, realistically, there is nothing you can cure the behavioral changes and adverse temperament following such procedure.There are different places around the outside of the moving van or trunk of a sink or tub, place your cats are noisier than others.A cat scratcher gives your dog or cat's breath a terrible odor, and for those already sick with immune-system diseases or disorders.Always consider the possibility of further attacks.

[the-basement-paradox]

~Boss~ Intro and Prologue 1/2 & 2/2

~Intro~

"You're too pretty to be a mob Boss"

Ten is the leader of the NCT Mafia, one of the most feared gangs that runs the streets of Seoul South Korea. Taeyong is a freelance back up dancer with a sharp mind and an even sharper tongue.

What should unfold when a bumbling member working with Taeyong during his most recent gig turns out to be more than he seems? And why is he looking at Taeyong like that??

A Taeten fanfic

⚠️Warnings⚠️ Language Disorders Slight angst More things gang related

~Prologue 1/2~

Taeyong was plodding his way home from the grocery store to his dingy little apartment. He makes it to the apartment he so loathed and dropped a few of his bags so he could grab his keys and roughly unlock the door, he unlocks it and rams it hard with his shoulder, taking a few tries to get it open.

He picks up his bags with a sigh and slams the door behind him when he walks inside, he looked around his clean though stained apartment with annoyance and sets the groceries down on the counter before replacing the bucket of water that had been quietly filling itself via a leak in the center of the ceiling above it.

Taeyong dumps the filled bucket in the sink and places it beside the edge of the counter for later and he sets to work putting away his provisions to the sound of the plinking water in the metal bucket.

Once he was done he went to his room and chose some more appropriate clothes for dancing and tosses them onto his sunken, ratty bed before going to them and getting changed.

Once dressed Taeyong grabbed his wallet and walked to the dance studio, doing a few stretches on the way. He walked into the studio with slightly messy, windblown hair and tired eyes but nonetheless set down his water bottle in the corner of the room and bowed slightly in a silent greeting to his teacher.

Taeil smiled brightly at Taeyong "You excited? You get to be a backup dancer for Big Bang!" he says excitedly.

Taeyong yawns lightly and dimly returns the smile "I would be more excited if I weren't so tired" He responded apologetically. Taeil nods in understanding and the two began to do a few stretches and chat about the details of the dance.

Once the stretching was over Taeil started the music and danced all of Taeyong's moves for him to show what he would have to do before he broke it down for the younger.

Hours later the practice was finally over and Taeyong was star-fished on the floor, his delicate chest rising and falling heavily due to his exhaustion and his hair and thin t-shirt were drenched with his sweat.

Taeil wrinkled his nose at Taeyong, he was tired as well but now he would have to mop the floor before he left for the day. He extended a hand to the boy on the floor and helped him up before grinning at him. "You go home and take it easy, we have practice again in two days" He says brightly before retreating to find the mop so he could get out of there quickly.

Taeyong says goodbye before sighing and stepping out onto the windy streets again, the sweat on his skin chilled him through his thin t-shirt and sweatpants as the cool wind blew across it and he shivered slightly as he entered his dingy apartment complex for the last time that day.

He unlocks and opens his door with the usual difficulty and scrunches his nose at the dilapidated room before grabbing a fresh pair of sweatpants to sleep in and he heads to his tiny bathroom to take a shower.

He walks out of the bathroom with a towel over his head and his grey sweatpants hanging low on his hips as he quietly pads to his room, his stomach gurgles loudly and he winces looking towards his newly filled fridge before sighing and closing the door to his bedroom behind him.

He finished drying off his hair and threw the damp towel over his desk chair. He dropped onto his sunken bed and pulls the covers up to his chin and turns onto his side so the ratty blankets were comfortably over his shoulder and he pulls his extra pillow close in his arms and lays there in dark and tired silence as he tries to sleep.

BANG

He flinches and closes his eyes tightly.

~Prologue 2/2~

Ten stood within the sitting room of his base of operations, or rather home, his lean frame lit from behind due to the fireplace that crackled behind him. He wore black leather skinny jeans and a black pinstripe suit top over his, hardly buttoned, white button up, his face was set in a stern frown and his eyes flickered between disappointment and annoyance as he gazed sharply at his comrades who were meekly folded in upon themselves on the couch before him. A large black mastiff was stationed at the right hand of it's master, who absentmindedly rubbed it's velvet ear between his thumb and forefinger.

"Who took it" Ten states, his voice commanding nothing but the truth from the young men before him who cowered slightly. "Lucas, Doyoung" he sighs looking to them each individually as he says their names, the disappointment slowly draining from his features though the annoyance remained as prominent as ever. "Johnny is going to be so pissed when he finds out that someone has taken his new toy" He huffs "And the devil knows he's going to use this as a way to start something with me during our job tonight, which we can not afford to mess up"

Ten takes a small step towards Lucas and Doyoung and he leans forward so he was eye level with the cowering boys "So, where is it" he says as the mastiff growls deeply in her chest, sensing her master's annoyance with the young men.

Lucas shivers lightly at Ten's tone "Shit man, Yutas' got it in the tech room" he huffs trying to pretend he wasn't fearing for his own safety due to Ten's glare "He swore to Johnny he would get it tricked out, we didn't know it would take this freaking long"

Doyoung nods quickly in agreement and Ten quickly rips his intense glare from Lucas and focuses on Doyoung "And why" He pauses threateningly "Did no one choose to tell either me or Johnny about when this 'tricking out' would be done because one, Johnny has been on my ass about it all day and two we might need his little toy for the job tonight" he says clearly frustrated.

Doyoung shivers slightly "We didn't know when Yuta was going to take it, we just saw him with it a few minutes ago"

Ten just sighs and straightens his waist back to his full height and waves his hand at them to tell them that they could go before running through his hair, "Your sorry asses better be telling the truth, for your sake and my own" he grumbles as he rubs the soft skin of his temple lightly, the two boys brighten and rush off "I don't want to see you two again today until it's time for inventory check" Ten calls after them.

Ten drops himself oddly gracefully onto the couch and his loyal mastiff whines lightly as she drops her large head onto his lap and stares up at him balefully, he chuckles lightly and ruffles the coarse fur on the top of her head "I know my dear Titan, sometimes they are more work than they are worth" he agrees with a sigh.

He checks the time and removes Titan's great head from his lap before standing and making his way to the tech room, she trails behind him her large paws, and claws, clicking against the hardwood as the pair made their way to their destination.

Ten sweeps into the tech room and Titan sits down loyally to wait for him outside the door. "That thing better be done in the next 5 minutes or I'm going to personally string you up a flag pole by your little ass" he threatens emptily to Yuta as he peers over his shoulder to watch the techie's progress.

"And Winwin'll electrocute you until you lose all of your short little hairs and your smooth ass skin bubbles" Yuta shoots back not even looking up at his boss.

Ten just chuckles, Yuta was definitely the only one that could get away with things like this without Ten following through with his threat. "But it really better be done by the time the boys and I have to move out tonight" he warns before he leaves the other to his work, not even bothering to listen for an answer, he just lets the implied threat hang in the air as he goes.

He stalks out and goes to his room. He changes into something much more casual and easy to hide a weapon in. Once he was finished preparing himself for the job he stuffed his loaded pistol into the waistband of his pants and goes back to the expensive sitting room to debrief the members of the group on the job of the night.

Everyone was soon gathered in the sitting room and Ten went over what they needed to get their pay. Tonight's job was an odd one, this one had come from the police themselves. The job of the mob was to collect some convicts that the FBI had been trying to capture, preferably alive, but Ten preferred to think of it as more of a guideline than a demand that the convicted duo be alive.

Once the members were prepared to move out Yuta handed out the member's ear pieces and fastens Johnny's little toy to his belt loop as the male put his ear piece in, Yuta straightens up and presses a little remote into Johnny's hand with a little grin "Have fun with it bro"

"But not too much fun" Ten warns lowly eyeing the electric handcuffs that Johnny now had hanging from his hip. Johnny grins brightly and puts the remote safely into the chest pocket of his shirt, over his heart.

They do a short review of the plan and Ten leads the way out of the building leaving a sulky Kun and a grinning Yuta behind, Yuta to run the electronics and Kun because he had accidentally shot himself in the foot the job before the current and he was still healing.

~Time skip, I don't want this to get too long^^;~

The convicts were snarling ferally as they backed into the cold stone wall behind them each of their guns steadily pointed at the two gang members who had cornered them. One, Johnny, had a bloodied right leg from a stab wound in the middle on his thigh, the knife still gratingly embedded in his flesh until he could tend to the wound, and the other, Doyoung, had his own knife wound in the shoulder of his shooting arm, as well as a gash above his eye that caused blood to seep down and drip painfully into his eye, blinding him partially for the time being.

Little did either party know that Ten, with a passed out Lucas slung over his muscular shoulder, was standing on the fire escape stairs above and to the right of the convicts and that he was taking his sweet time in lining up the perfect shot with his final bullet.

BANG

The bullet went through the head of the first and into the neck of the next convict, killing both of the bothersome criminals.

[youdontneedum-blog]

PCT Mi774 Forester Pass, California WHERE THE MOUNTAIN MAKES A V

We woke up in a story book meadow surrounded by granite Gods that blasted holy energy sang glory be thy name. The warm summer sun did not take hint that we were at 9,000ft, the rays kissed our skin. It was Helen Keller’s birthday. (Helen got his trail name after telling the fainting story about not being able to see or hear under I-10...) I unwrapped our last pop tart and pinned a twig through it to make a candle. I sang happy birthday to him in the middle of the Sierra Nevada. It seems like a dream. It couldn’t have been more perfect except that this was some of the last of our snacks before we could reach a town late the next day. We had plenty of dinner foods, but it was impractical to stop multiple times during the day to cook dinner. 

This day we would climb our first big pass reaching over 13,100ft. Our maps warned us that this was the most dangerous pass on the trail and that we would be able to see it as we approached, sighting a V in the top of the mountain. We began hiking around 8am. We didn’t want to get up there too late or too early, because it was supposedly unsafe. We had never done shit like this, we really had no idea. The first 4 miles were flat and then gently gained elevation. Mosquitos everywhere. We wore bug nets. They bit through my pants. I had at least 30 bites already. The sweat made them itch more. They loved my blood. Nothing was ever comfortable on the PCT, you were always giving up some sort of comfort in order to gain the mind strength you would need to finish. The trail knew, it must break you to make you. 

As we started up to the shelf that met the bottom of the pass hanger started to over come my mind. Every step I took I could feel my stomach becoming more empty. I need a snack I told Helen. He pushed forward, knowing we couldn’t afford to eat our snacks this early. We would finish them off and have none left for the rest of the day and tomorrow before we could get to town. I was sure that if I went any further I would collapse and die of starvation. My mind reeled, YOU ARE GOING TO DIE WE ARE SO HUNGRY. I looked around, where is this “V” anyway. They were everywhere. All of the mountains had a V at some point. I couldn’t tell where the trail was leading us, none of the mountains in the distance looked passable. WTF.

When we reached the shelf we finally sat down to eat. Both inhaling a packet of tuna, and a protein bar. With stomachs not satisfied at all, and for that matter possibly even more hungry than before we continued on, snackless. This was the first time since being on trail that we were going to run out of food completely. I continued to point out the Vs in each wall of granite, “I bet that is where we pass over,” Yet we continued towards a wall that looked the least likely to be the one and there I saw an ant sized human pass across a sliver of snow at the very top of the vertical wall of granite before me. How the fuck do we get up there? I tried to put expectations on Forester Pass just like everything else on the trail. But those expectations would float to heaven and hell aka reality would come before me.

If you can see in the photo the whole grant wall comes into a V and a small patch of snow flows out of it. That is where we crossed the pass. We approached walking over snowfield covered lakes and through the life saving tracks of other hikers. Then we headed up a trail that had been carved into the side of this wall. We crossed the snow field at the top, with wobbling legs and trekking poles posted far down into the snow for safety. We looked down to our left, staring death in the face then climbed the last steps up and over the pass. To try and explain what it looks like on the other side of Forester Pass, is simple. When I reached the top and saw what we would be hiking through for the next few weeks, I nearly had a heart attack. MOUNTAINS further than the eye could see. HUGE DEATHLY SNOWY MOUNTAINS. There was no fucking way I would make it out of them. They were too big. I had underestimated everything on this trip so far, and I had to say sorry to my mom under my voice. 

Suds and Ultra Lite sat at the top of Forester with us. A huge glissading slide led down the other side towards what looked liked the trail miles below. There were two choices, you could either glissade down or take the longer walking route to stay safe. Ultra Lite would not let up, “Glissade, yolo, we have to yolo!” This was our first time meeting Ultra Lite. He went first, none of us had ever done it before. He hooted and hollered the whole way down, it was as if a five year old was hitting the play ground for the first time in his life. Helen went second, same thing. I saw the glow of his ora burst out of him ten fold. His laughter bounced off of the ancient rock and then into my heart. I hesitated, almost taking the long route as I watched a girl come over the pass eyes filled with the sting of fear and tears dripping down her cheeks. Fuck it, I sat down and let life take me. I went much faster than the boys, howling with a happiness and joy that hadn’t been touched for years. I could not stop laughing, and we all three laughed together uncontrollably when I reached the bottom. We watched Suds and the crying girl take the long safe walking route, post holing every 10ft. Happy with our choice we moved on. 

Ultra Lite sped ahead, it was late afternoon now and Helen and I decided to stop and make “dinner” after another short glissade down to a shelf of granite slabs. We made 3 dinners. John Muir hikers coming south on trail warned us of the dangerous river crossings and snow fields over the next 200 miles. PCT hikers coming north had either just almost died crossing Forester, or had the time of their lives. There was no in between 

We finished our dinners and had two packs of instant potatoes left before we reached town late afternoon the next day. I accepted that I would not eat for the rest of the day and night. We were in Kings Canyon, one of the most beautiful places on the planet. We were there. We often took moments to breathe in the now, because right now as I write this, I can close my eyes and remember being there. I can feel the same gratitude in my gut as I felt then. And I cry often. I cry as if I am missing someone who had given everything to me, without ever asking for anything in return. I cry as if I had been to heaven and spoke with God, been cradled in the peace that God is, then put back on Earth because I was not ready to stay there. I so dearly want to go back, and it is hard not to be bitter at the world for not letting that be a reality for us wild ones. The truest most real thing that a person can do is somewhat withheld from them. 

Later that evening with 2 miles before we wanted to make camp an array of flags hung across the trail. A fire was lit and was surrounded by hikers. An angel dressed in a civil war uniform greeted us, “thou hath pass do carry cheeses or fruits of any sort?” In the middle of no where in the canyons of the Sierra Nevada, a group of angels made us magic. They were staying for two nights and had used pack mules to bring in the goods. We ate spaghetti, Helen got another birthday cake made of tortillas, marshmallows, chocolate, and candy bars. We sang him happy birthday and his eyes filled with the glow of fire. We did not go to bed hungry that night. The trail provides, and GOD is always with us. 

[ros3quart2]

Chapter No.ihavenoideayet of Voltron College Marching Band AU

Set in [insert city here], USA, the five paladins, Coran, and Allura, attend the same university. Yes, even Pidge, as she is a genius. They are all in the school’s marching band. Allura is drum major, Shiro is drumline leader, Hunk is Sousaphone, Pidge is mellophone (marching version of french horn), Lance is trumpet, Keith is Colorguard. 

P.S. It’s Klance.

CRACK!

1, 2…

CRASH!

       “Shit!” Keith whispered-slash-shouted to himself. He ran his hand through his bangs for the millionth time, searching his own mind to find something, anything that might help. The 45 is a difficult toss, bit it was doable. In fact, he had done it right once before. But what had he thought about that had given him enough anger-strength to pull it off?

       Dad? No. Dad never did anything wrong. Mom? Didn’t know enough about her to be angry. Grades? Not likely. His grades were suffering before, but they had been improving since he started studying with La–

       He froze. Just as he was about to pick up his flag, he froze. That was it. That was his thought. The only thought that could give him enough anger-strength. In fact, Lance was all Keith could think about lately. He picked up the flag, adjusted the silk, and got himself into position. Patience yields focus. Focus on anger. But he wasn’t angry at Lance.

       Patience yields focus. Lance. That adorkable little shit. So optimistic, so open-hearted and level-headed. Things Keith wished he could be. He was so funny and friendly and kind, and those eyes…. Keith loved those eyes. That was the thought.

       He was in love with Lance. Wow. He was in love with him. But that idiot had no idea. All because Keith was too afraid to show any feelings, or tell Lance what he really thinks of him. That’s it. He wasn’t angry at Lance. He was angry at himself. He noticed his jaw clench and his mouth form a frown. A lump formed in his throat and his knuckles turned white from gripping the pole too tight. Here we go.

       CRACK! He heard the silk whip through the air as he thrust the flag upward using all the anger-strength from all the things he was too afraid to say or do. One rotation. He wanted to see Lance. Second rotation. Just as he began to lift his hands for the catch–

       “Hey, Keith,” he heard Lance’s voice off to his right. As he turned to look–

       WHACK!

       “OH MY GOD! KEITH!” Lance cried out, rushing over to help his friend who had been knocked to the ground. As Lance knelt down, Keith put a hand over his left eye.

       “Keith! I-I’m sorry! I didn’t mean to distract you!”

       “Dammit, Lance, I almost had it!” Keith yelled as he tried to sit up. He was upset he had missed the toss, but so, so happy to see that face. He took a breath. “You know? It’s okay.” Wow. It was okay.

       “What do you mean, it’s okay?” Lance continued to shout. “Keith, you’re bleeding! You might have a concussion! Or, like, one hell of a black eye, at least!”

       Keith took back what he thought about Lance being level-headed. But he was right. He brought his hand away from his eye. There was blood, but not a lot.

       “Lance, calm down,” Keith urged. “I’m fine. I’ve had black eyes before. It’s not as bad as it looks.”

       “Well, should I take you to a hospital?”

       “No, I just need a first-aid kit. I have one in my room.” He stood up, wobbling only slightly, grabbed his flag and backpack and started to head toward his dorm. After a few steps, he noticed Lance wasn’t following. He turned around. Lance was staring at him, wringing his hands like he felt guilty about Keith getting hurt.

       “You coming?” Keith asked. “That’s why you’re here, right?”

       Lance’s eyes widened a bit. He swallowed hard and hoped Keith didn’t see it. He hesitated, but followed nervously, both hands in the pockets of his jacket.

       “Sorry for making you miss the toss,” he said quietly, like a scared little kid.

       “I already told you, Lance,” Keith assured. “It’s fine.”

       “It, um, looked pretty good before that, though,” he tried, managing to flash that familiar, cheesy grin. Keith loved that grin.

       When they arrived at Keith’s door, Lance felt a rush of calm, remembering how warm it always was in Keith’s room. And when the door opened, there it was. That warmth that felt like safety. Almost all of his tension was lifted as he followed Keith into his room, taking in the familiar simple decor and the four different My Chemical Romance posters. This dork. He was slightly startled when Keith broke the silence.

       “Lance?” He finally spoke. “You’re not usually this quiet. You barely said anything on the way over here.” He looked at Lance’s face, craving even a moment to look into those eyes. Lance met his gaze, sending a shiver down his spine he prayed Lance didn’t see.

       Lance didn’t see it. But he did see Keith fumble with a Band-Aid wrapper and struggle to find where to put it on his face. Being short one eye put a serious damper on his depth perception. Lance rolled his eyes as a smirk lifted one corner of his mouth.

       “Keith, sit down. Let me help.”

       Keith looked up for a moment before doing what he was told.

       Standing in front of Keith, their faces only inches apart (holy shit), Lance began to clean the cut on Keith’s eyebrow.

       “Hey, you looked like you were struggling out there.”

       “How long were you watching me?”

       Lance blushed. “Only a minute or two. Look, I know you know what you’re doing, but you need to stop pushing yourself too hard.”

       Keith frowned. “I do know what I’m doing.”

       “I know, I know,” Lance repeated as he started to put a Band-Aid on the cut. “I just want you to take care of yourself.” He looked into Keith’s eyes. “I worry about you, ya nerd.”

       Keith began to blush looking back into Lance’s eyes. “No one asked you to do that,” he breathed, fighting with the lump in his throat. “Why do you worry so much?”

       Lance looked defeated. He stopped, not realizing his hand was still on Keith’s face.

       “Keith, you know why,” he said desperately. “And if you don’t know by now, well, then you’re really as oblivious as Shiro said you are.”

       Keith’s eyes grew wide. If this feeling in his stomach really was butterflies like all those damn love songs say, his were all having seizures. He was just about at his limit with this moron. Before he could change his mind, he held Lance’s face in his hands and pulled it closer until their lips finally, finally touched. Holy. Shit. Was he actually, finally kissing Lance?

       He brought his face away and looked into Lance’s eyes again. They were unbelievably wide and his face was completely red. Oh, geez.

       “I-I’m sorry!” Keith stuttered, letting go of Lance’s face and shrinking back into the chair. “I, uh, misread the situation, didn’t I?” There was no hiding the disappointment he felt, though not for lack of trying.

       But then, he felt Lance’s hand touch his. He looked up, expecting the worst. But Lance looked at him with such warmth and kindness.

       “No,” he answered softly, “you didn’t.” He laced his fingers between Keith’s, curling his fingers around his knuckles, taking full advantage of the warmth of those calloused hands.

       “Keith, I’m in love with you,” he said desperately. “I mean, I’m, like, stupidly in love with you. Like, I get all stupid when I’m around you, and I’m, like, distracted all the time because I can’t stop thinking about you.”

       Keith was frozen, staring up at him, staring into his eyes like he lost something in them. He looked terrified. Why was he terrified? What the hell? A tear fell down Keith’s cheek. WHAT THE HELL?

       “Keith, you little shit, please say something,” he begged.

       Keith shook himself out of shock. “I…I…have been trying to tell you I love you… for weeks.”

       “Holy shit,” Lance breathed.

       “Holy shit,” Keith whispered back. “We are both goddamn idiots, aren’t we?”

       Lance started to laugh that adorkable laugh that Keith loved so much. Keith laughed along with him, feeling the almost palpable tension lift, and squeezed Lance’s hand.

       “Come here, you idiot,” he said playfully as he pulled Lance so suddenly that he made him lose his balance and fall into Keith’s lap. Without missing a beat, they both shifted until they were comfortable.

       “Weird,” Lance said sarcastically.

       “What’s weird?” Keith asked absent-mindedly, too distracted by staring at Lance’s lips.

       “Oh, nothing. I just always thought you were a top.”

       Keith shook his head and laughed.

       “Shut your stupid mouth and kiss me, you little shit.”

       He pulled him in again, kissing him harder this time. He felt Lance’s fingers on the back of his head, weaving through his hair, giving him goosebumps. He slid one of his own hands to the base of Lance’s back and slipped it up into his shirt. He pulled his mouth away for a moment, already breathless.

       “So it’s true what they say; that all those years of playing trumpet makes you a great kisser.” He only said it so Lance would smile. It worked. Lance smiled the biggest smile he had ever seen on him. That big, stupid, beautiful smile. And Keith kissed that smile right off of his face. And he didn’t stop. They didn’t stop. Not for hours.

       It was well past midnight now. There was a rehearsal in the morning, but they didn’t care. They hadn’t looked at their phones for hours. They were too busy talking. Among other things. Keith had opened the blinds so they could watch the city lights glisten. Lance had felt lonely since day one of band camp. Suddenly that was over. His head was on Keith’s chest– rising and falling as he breathed– as he listened to his heartbeat. One hand was gripping one of Keith’s, the other was playing with his stupid mullet. Their legs were tangled in what could best be described as a human braid.

       “Lance,” Keith whispered. “Sorry I didn’t tell you all of this sooner.”

       “You had no reason to think I would have felt the same.”

       “Maybe I would have if I wasn’t as oblivious as Shiro said I am,” Keith said with a chuckle.

       Lance looked up at him with a smile. “Oh my God, Keith Kogane made a joke.” They both grinned at each other. But Lance’s grin turned into a frown.

       “Hey, what is it?” Keith asked with concern. “Lance?”

       “I’m not out yet,” Lance’s voice shook.

       “What?” Keith questioned softly. “You haven’t told anyone?”

       “Well, I’ve told some people,” Lance explained. “My family knows I’m bi. So does Hunk. And now Shiro.”

       “You told Shiro?”

       “Yeah, I always feel comfortable telling him anything.”

       “Yeah, Shiro’s pretty great that way,” Keith reminisced. “If… if you’re not ready to tell anyone, you don’t have to.” He wanted Lance to be comfortable, but he felt a little hurt at the thought of keeping their relationship a secret.

       “You mean, like, not telling the others we’re together?” Lance wondered.          “No, no, that would just make me feel worse.” He took a shaky breath. “I’m going to say it.”

       “But you’re still scared,” Keith noticed while moving his hand up and down Lance’s back, feeling the slight tension of his muscles.

       “Oh, I’m scared shitless,” Lance said with a nervous laugh. “But you’re not afraid of anything.” He put his hand in its favorite place; holding Keith’s. “If I have you with me, maybe I won’t be so scared.”

       Keith could feel the heat return to his cheeks as he smiled at the crazy, wonderful man looking up at him. “Oh, I’m afraid of lots of things. The Human Centipede, Chucky…”

       Lance began to laugh.

       “Sad clowns, poorly made taxidermies.” They looked at each other as they both took a few deep breaths. “I worry about you, ya nerd.“

       Lance’s eyes narrowed. “How dare you use my own words against me?”

       Keith shrugged. “Get used to it, babe.”

       Lance blushed and rolled his eyes.

       “Will you help me do it tomorrow?”

       “Yeah, of course,” Keith promised. “But if you end up changing your mind, you can, okay?”

       “Thanks, Keith,” Lance said with a yawn. “But you and I are both terrible liars and our friends are smart.”

       “Well, if they find out on their own, you technically don’t have to say it out loud,” Keith offered, yawning widely. “Get some sleep, okay? No more worrying. Deal?”

       “Deal.”

[gracebolton]

Is Nuclear Power Glowing or Just Green?

An interesting conversation happened on twitter around 4 years ago, including a remark from Dr Karl Kruszelnicki in reference to nuclear power, in response to another tweeter.

Problems with nuclear are 1)potential to make nuclear weapons 2)waste (95% of energy remains in waste) 3)Chernobyl https://t.co/y9tfOejj4y

— Dr Karl (@DoctorKarl) April 22, 2016

The other tweeter is someone I’d run across recently when discussing the nuclear arena, so I decided to enter the discussion using my personal account.

Twitter has what I see as an advantage in the 140 character count, as people can’t waffle on, and therefore get to the point (supposedly). On the other hand, it is really hard to have a detailed, productive discussion.

In a previous discussion about nuclear with the same party, it started to get a little heated, then a third party joined in and the whole thing became a waste of time.

In these discussions, I tend to take a pretty neutral view, as I do with battery storage. Its important to have the conversations and have multiple viewpoints, because sometimes its enlightening, and sometimes it can change an open mind.

As one of my first points, I referenced an article on Renew Economy, which sought to dispel some myths about nuclear as a low-carbon option. A lot of this I had heard before, but the author, Mark Diesendorf, clearly put a lot of research into compiling the numbers for that article.

If you look at the comments on that article, there are a lot of people also fairly derisive of nuclear. That is probably not a surprise when the site is primarily focused on Renewable Energy, and I found myself nodding along to some of it.

Thing is, I’m not anti-nuclear power. Not at all. I’m a Sci-Fi fan and in a lot of that material, there are nuclear reactors involved. Some of them are even man-portable reactors designed to power awesome stuff like exoskeletal armour, mecha, or spacecraft.

But we’re not talking about some kind of Iron man style weaponry or interplanetary exploration that people take for granted. We’re talking about boring old this:

No laser weapons or sexy, sexy aliens here, scifi fans… Credit: Wikipedia

The Basics of Nuclear Power

Similar to other thermal power stations like coal, we have a production facility generating heat, with turns water into steam and drives a turbine. This needs cooling towers to let the steam escape, and you can see a bunch of wires carrying the power away.

Where the nuclear power plant differs is that the fuel lasts longer. Rather than jamming coal in there regularly to keep the home fires burning, the uranium rods in the nuclear facility will last for years. Under a controlled nuclear reaction, the heat produced is what creates the steam to drive the turbines and crank out that sweet, sweet electricity.

And now you’ve probably just asked the question about how dangerous the radioactive material is, and you’re right. There are potential dangers in nuclear power that other power types don’t face.

The Wikipedia entry on the topic of nuclear power plants clearly outlines the dangers and controversies around nuclear power. I’ll let you read it there, but suffice to say nuclear power plants are large, complex bits of equipment. Humans are human. Accidents happen, if rarely.

Even when things are running well, and safety measures are stringent, you can have episodes like Fukushima, where Mother Nature had a hangover and tripped over the rug on her way to get more aspirin.

So, as far as places-to-avoid-human-error go, nuclear power plants are right up there. Throw in the production of weapons-grade radioactive material using nuclear power plants, and it looks a little scary.

Supporters will point out that there are nations around the world who use nuclear power like France (74%) quite happily, and other countries in Europe who have a high proportion of their electricity generated from nuclear power.  They’re also right – carefully managed, nuclear is a great source of low-carbon power.

I say “low-carbon” because you still need to dig stuff up out of the ground. That is also true of solar panels (silicon and metals), wind farms (steel) and any form of energy generation you like. Everything has a price until we learn how to run things on our own sense of self-satisfaction like this guy (Simpsons fans know where its at).

There are also some options for progress in the nuclear power in terms of better reactors, like the Integral Fast Reactor (IFR). More efficient than traditional reactors, with less waste and fewer safety issues (including less weapons-grade material).

Yet, there isn’t a single commercial IFR operating in the world, due to cost, and a few red flags about safety that might actually be red herrings. For now at least, the IFR is the pipe dream for nuclear proponents.

Back on topic: so, I had a twitter discussion about nuclear power in general, versus renewable energy specifically. I found it stimulating and somewhat enlightening, via some links that were shared.

My adversary stated quite clearly he wasn’t anti-renewables, instead believing that renewables can’t provide all the power required in growing economies, and would need help in the form of stable, low-carbon nuclear.

The discussion finished amicably, and I went and did a bit of reading about nuclear power, particularly in Europe. After all that, I thought it best to document what nuclear power means to me, and how it compares to the renewable options in the current climate.

I was particularly interested to explore how I felt about it here in Australia, after some time to think.

Ayres Rock, Australia: A Kangaroo warning road sign in the desert near Uluru

It doesn’t all look like this, BTW…         Credit: Fodors Travel

Nuclear Power Perspective

Let’s forget about the safety thing for a moment, and assume we’re pretty grouse at building and maintaining nuclear power plants. No worries, she’ll be right!

One of the primary drivers of change is economic. Fact.

People generally don’t stop doing a thing until another thing comes along that is better value for money, or at least drops into their available budget.

As a simple example, I remember when power windows were a luxury item on a car that I couldn’t afford. These days, not many production cars still have window winders – technology gets cheaper, more people adopt it, and it becomes commonplace.

Nuclear isn’t getting cheaper, at least not in terms of capital cost to establish. Nuclear power plants cost billions to set up, and with the recent accident at Fukushima, financiers are understandably nervous about pouring that sort of money in.

The European nuclear projects under construction are well over budget and running late. China is gearing up with more nuclear, but finance is never really a thing with them, and besides which they’re also sinking a whack of dosh into renewable energy development, while searching for answers to their fossil-fuel based pollution issues.

Once the nuclear plant comes online, it is actually a very cheap power source, but it still has to be subsidised heavily to pay interest on all those loans in the meantime, and over the lifetime of the facility.

In Australia, where the only reactor we have is for research and medical purposes, nuclear power has never really taken off for the reasons stated in that wiki link. This is another blow to the nuclear lobby, in that while we have oodles of “yellowcake” (uranium) in the ground, and space to build reactors, to do so is widely regarded as political suicide.

Mining of uranium in nature reserves and national parks, particularly areas under the guardianship of Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander peoples, is a move that most politicians won’t countenance.

Perhaps that is more emotional than scientific, but if we’re looking to a more habitable planet, maybe we want to stop killing trees and such. Even if the longer term benefit is wiping out fossil fuel usage, what are we saving in that scenario?

In addition, centralised Nuclear power still suffers the same costs as coal for delivery. Poles and wires, substations, links in a chain that is infrastructure and therefore requires maintenance.

You could address some of that by building more power stations of smaller capacity in the appropriate areas, but then the cost per kWh rises due to base capital cost to build. Smaller does not always mean cheaper on a unit level, and you’re still required to get infrastructure built for users to get the power.

I still haven’t exactly dismissed nuclear as an option, but when you’re talking about the political and financial hurdles it faces in Australia, it looks like a very difficult climb. In a lot of ways, nuclear power has missed the window in Australia, and its hard to see how it can catch up.

This is particularly true when we look at the potential for renewable energy.

Renewable Energy

The fact is, renewable energy is getting cheaper, and more widespread, every day. Critics roundly mock the subsidies needed to establish “free” energy, while failing to look at their own backyard, often strewn with coal that the taxpayer funds.

Politically, fossil fuels are used as a battleground for jobs – particularly the mining industry – though I often wonder how many of those jobs are funded by the taxpayer, as a percentage. The mining magnates seem to fluctuate between reaping massive profits, or crying poor and sticking their hand out. Nice work if you can get it.

“Makes me money AND kills the environment – winning!” – (not) Gina Rinehart… Credit: Foxsports

In Australia, we’re seeing in increase of large scale solar farms, as well as wind farms. There is even some solar thermal around the place, while our wave power tech is getting noticed around the world.

Jeez we’ve got some smart units in this little nation.

So, with the price of solar panels dropping significantly as per Swanson’s Law, and other renewable energy efforts cranking up, we need to look ahead to the year 2020 in the shorter term, because the next step is just around the corner.

Storage has been given a shot in the arm with the announcement of Tesla Powerwall, and it has allowed many other players to stick their hand up and remind people they have battery systems, too.

The price of storage is also falling, and going to fall further. We’re talking about a multi-billion dollar industry that sits ready to launch in households across the world, not just Australia.

We’re best positioned to use it, because we have the sun, the high electricity prices, and the highest consumption of coal per capita in the world. Which is, quite frankly, awful. We need to have a look at ourselves…

We’ve got a population largely distributed along the coast, but also rural communities who struggle for services and maintenance of their power and communications networks, not to mention roads and transport infrastructure.

So its natural to start there, I reckon.

We already have people who live independent from the power grid, because they were faced with a location with no existing infrastructure. In some cases, the cost to run power would be hundreds of thousands of dollars, just for an individual home!

So we scale that up, like the moves to take suburbs or whole towns off the grid. This can also translate into backup power for towns at the end of the line, or in known trouble spots where natural hazards or aging equipment may cause issues.

The power sources can be any form of renewable energy, provided housing efficiency measures are put in place, along with battery storage of suitable size and chemistry. There will be teething issues, but these places stand to benefit the most in the shorter term.

The next step is to establish suburban micro-grids, using solar + storage in suburban areas, lowering the cost of infrastructure and maintenance longer term. Companies like Reposit Power are already looking into enabling this technology in Australia.

As an aside: I’m bemused that we don’t have a situation like San Francisco, where solar panels are now required by law on buildings 10 storeys or under.

With installers like Natural Solar getting into consumer-grade power storage for solar, this will snowball, and allow consumers to wrest back some of the control from the grid.

That is, of course, if “the grid” exists as more than a marginal concern for many users in these neighbourhoods of the future. The grid will likely become an enabler for local people to share a power community, all things going well. Perhaps even export their power if another grid needs it.

And traditional, centralised power? Delivering electricity from hundreds of kilometres away will have its place. For a time. In light of the adoption rates of storage, it cannot be otherwise.

However, in the wide brown land, with ample sunshine and inflated electricity pricing, it seems more likely that our independent streak will gradually wean us off big network power. As a primary feed, anyway.

Having a power station hundreds of kilometres away will seem ludicrous, when you can make your own right on your roof, or the guy down the street can do it for you.

The poles and wires of yesteryear will gradually be marginalised; a chorus line dancer grimacing out a smile, while the lead actors renewable energy and storage bow at the front of the stage.

Here in Australia, it probably won’t matter what is burning inside that power plant.

Coal is dying, while trying to take us all down with it.

Nuclear is the Delorean of our time – everyone knows its cool, and can do some great things. Its never going to appeal as a real option to more than its collection of fans, and with its inescapable history in Australia there for all to see, it won’t be able to get back to the future on current projections.

You don’t need to be a nuclear physicist to figure that out.

from https://www.sustainablefuturegroup.com.au/22/is-nuclear-power-glowing-or-just-green/ from https://sustainablfutg.tumblr.com/post/624511288876351488 from https://gracebolton.blogspot.com/2020/07/is-nuclear-power-glowing-or-just-green.html

[skaalpaul-blog]

Track Day for Old Blue

Old Blue is my 1987 Honda CBR600 F1, the Hurricane.  This bike and me go way back.  I found her on Craigslist.  I still clearly remember the day I bought her for $1200 and rode home. I had not ridden a motorcycle for twenty years, yet, the economic need for affordable transportation pushed me to this guy’s house on the outskirts of Atlanta, at dusk, fifteen miles from where I lived.   Old Blue was as forgiving as she was gracious.  My clutch and throttle control was raw but she never stalled out.  I remember that to keep myself calm and focused I repeated the mantra “We are one, rider and bike.” and then I kept a steady, slow pace home through the darkness, breathing a sigh of relief when we got there. She got me safely back that first night and then went on to carry me over 40,000 miles on every back road through fifteen states between Atlanta, Georgia and New York, New York.  After every trip I would replace, upgrade or improve certain parts.  Adding a pair of high beam spot lights here, new petcock there, a completely upgraded digital speedometer and engine temperature gauge. Always something better, piece by piece after each trip and before the next. I would estimate that only twenty percent of that motorcycle I bought in March 2012 still remains, replaced with little pieces of myself.

 The natural challenge for this motorcycle and myself was to take her out on a track day.  Begin that familiar nervous feeling of trying anything new.  Sport bikes within the last ten years will all go above one hundred and fifty miles an hour in capable hands.  My 1987 Honda CBR’s top factory speed was one hundred and thirty-five. Add on top of that my skill level and I’d be lucky to exceed one hundred and ten. It’s not the speed that is dangerous on a track it is the speed differential.   I looked long and hard for a group that catered to vintage bikes and left ego far from the track.  I found it in the Spooktrackular classic track day sponsored by the Cretins Motorcycle Club.  Just the tongue in cheek name was inviting and aligned with my dad joke sense of humor.

 There are minimum safety requirements for the rider and the motorcycle before you are permitted to ride the track.  Leather riding gear, either two piece or one piece, Snell rated helmet, track boots and gloves are all required.  The motorcycle also has to pass a basic safety inspection.  Things like all lenses must be taped over, no oil or fluid leaks of any kind, mirrors and license plates must be removed, anything that could vibrate off.  As a beginner, though, it is understood you are not really going to be riding the razor’s edge.  There’s no need to wire bolts or secure oil filters.  This all made common sense to me.  On the track you would be going three or four times faster than anything permitted on roads, by removing cross traffic or just cars of any kind your focused attention will be one hundred percent on riding technique, cornering and getting the most out of your bike.  Having bits and pieces of other bikes litter the track or lay oil slicks anywhere will go unnoticed that when combined with speed would have immediate disastrous effects. Beginners are given due leeway and grouping them together put the highest risk into one manageable mass.  While the intermediate and expert riders could be free to explore their upper envelope limits without the risk of a beginning level motorcycle dropping a muffler in the middle of turn three.

Three anxieties played prominent the day before the track ride.  I did not want to break any safety rules, none of which I had practical understanding of. I mean I could read the rules, of course, but none of them were grounded in experience.  I did not want to ruin or wreck my motorcycle.  To me she was one of kind.  I did not want to be “That Guy” the one that is just a little late, the one holding up the show which is actually comprised of parts of the other two anxieties with a little aspect of its own thrown in for good measure.  All of this anxiety and nervousness were unfounded of course.  I read somewhere that when you are nervous it is just because you care.  If that is true then I must have cared about this more than anything.  

It is five am on the morning of track day. I woke up in my tent in the bed of my truck.  Everything is silent. Even the coyotes I heard howling four hours ago have quieted down.  I open the tent to look around and the paddock is pitch dark, illuminated only by the night stars.  This was the beginning of my day.  The nervous energy insisted that I should get into my track suit. I had no idea how long that process would take. The suit has to be close fitting to do any good but made from leather, it was very stiff and awkward to get into, each put on movement needed a great deal of effort. I started in on the task, while trying to keep quiet for the others still sleeping nearby in their tents.  After twenty minutes of wrestling, it was done and I crawled out of the tent and got my boots on.  I was a full three hours early. There’s no way I’m going to be “that guy” now. The next couple hours were just me passing time.  I was so green at this activity that I didn’t even know how to pretend to look busy.  I sat on the tail gate of my truck, had a light breakfast and drank coffee and watch the track pit area wake up.  Here were professional racers just arriving with their track bikes on trailers. Pulling into open spots, setting up shade tents and getting their motorcycles on pit stands. These bikes were so specialized they did not even have kickstands. Every nonessential part removed to reduce weight.  Nearby was a group of Harley Dyna riders braced against the cool morning with their hoodies up and coffees in their hands.  Rider’s families emerged from trailers and children from age five to preteens passed the time by riding scooters through the paddock while their fathers put all their focus on their motorcycles. Across the way was a local coffee shop setting up for a brisk morning’s business of being the only place available for a pastry and a coffee, at least until the track cafe opened at eight.  Scattered throughout were every conceivable type of sport motorcycle that has been built in the past thirty years. By now the pit area was flush with the early morning sun and in full track day activity.  The loud speakers installed high on telephone poles came alive with music. It took a moment but I recognized the sound track from “On Any Sunday”  That familiar tingling sensation on the back of my neck put the exclamation point on a perfect moment. The morning sun, the kids on scooters, the motorcycles, smell of fuel and race leathers all swirling together. 

I had to break the spell and get Old Blue over to the bike inspection.  I had no idea what to expect. Would thirty year old motorcycle even pass? I walked her over to where folks had lined up and the race inspectors gave each bike a review.  The inspector took one look at my bike and said, “Hurricane! Wow! I used to race these back in the day!”  He was primarily looking for stray fluid leaks and pointed out my right fork seal.  “You’ll have to cover that up, if that blows you’ll put fork fluid all over the track. Just take a rag and a couple zip ties and secure it here and here.” He said pointing to the spot above and below the fork seal. Then he turned his attention to my throttle. “This needs to snap back faster. You may need to replace or modify the throttle but for now just squirt some WD-40 in their. If you go down you don’t want your bike going on without you or worse spinning your tire into your leg.  Get those two things corrected and then bring it back here for another look.”  I pushed the bike back to my truck and hurriedly set up the rag cover on the fork and worked in some spray lubricant into the throttle until it snapped back with reasonable responsiveness. Then started up and rode back to the inspector.  Checking her over, “Good! Good, see that throttle response is fine now and the fork cover looks excellent. You’re good to go.” and he put a sticker with the number three on the front fairing indicating I was in group three, the beginner’s group.  

By that time the mandatory rider’s meeting was about to start.  It was being held in the track cafe. Early as usual, I found a seat and watched the other riders filter in.  What I thought was going to be a very formal laundry list of safety procedures, instead was a pump up the crowd session and the safety talk boiled down to three things.  Enter the track and stay on the left until the first turn.  This was drilled into the crowd and was all about mitigating the speed differential.  As bikes would be coming down a long straight away hitting their maximum speeds they would be naturally aligned to the right of the track to set up for the first turn. Having someone enter from the pit at a much lower speed and swing into their path would be a disaster for all.  Next point was when exiting the track keep at speed but move to the left and raise your hand and do so from as early as turn seven.  This would tell the riders behind you what you intend to do.  Finally, there was review of the flags, red meaning accident and everyone off the track, checkered is the end of the group’s session and black meaning you’re leaking fluid stop, immediately at first safe point. There were a few more but those were the ones I focused on.  Meeting over, the track instructors asked all beginners to stay behind.  We were about ten riders in total and the instructors explained how they would introduce all of us to the track.  We’d begin with a slow review ride of the track with one instructor in the lead and another at the rear to familiarize us with the turn lines and just get through that first nervous adrenaline phase.  “I could go on and on about a lot of different information but you’re not going to remember any of it, it’s better to just get out there, remember the safety points and have fun.”

I went back to the truck to wait for my group’s turn or “heat”.  First up was group 1, the professionals, then would come group 2 modern, the intermediates on modern motorcycles, group 2 vintage and finally my group 3, beginners.  They each lined up at the track entrance and waited for the all clear then filed onto the track.  Racing down the straightaway at peak RPM, each motorcycle’s sound was unique.  Some engines were high and sounded like a jet engine flying by.  Others were low pitched growlers whose bass tones hit you in gut.  Everyone had that distinctive Doppler effect, as the bike approached the pit area the pitch grew and grew and until it hit peak pitch then suddenly the sound dropped away as the motorcycle disappeared around turn one. Each group was give 3 warning calls by the announcer, “Ten minute call out to group three, ten minutes!” That was for me and being preoccupied with nervous energy I put on my helmet and gloves, got on Old Blue and started up. “Five minute call out to group three, five minutes!” I sat there with the engine running, giving the old carburetor system plenty of warm up time.  “Two minutes for group three, two minutes!” I watched for the instructor and seeing him roll over to the track entrance I followed suit putting myself in third position behind one other beginner.  The other beginners lined up behind me. The instructors asked that we go in single file so we could see the corner lines more easily.  The ten or so engines filled the air with noise and vibration, The group on the track, 2 vintage got the checkered flag ushering them off the track.  Flag men around the track signaled back the all clear and ahead of me the lead instructor started forward. I eased out the clutch, rolled on the throttle and glided in measured safe distance cadence behind the rider in front of me.  A short entrance ease way and we were on the track. The grin under my helmet was ear to ear.  We cruised through turn one and then into the long sweeper of turn 2 and up the hill to turns three, four and five.  The turn banks were at a much more pronounce angle than could be seen from track side and even though the first lap was  introductory and promised to be slow, slow was probably in the sixty to seventy-five mile and hour range just to stay in line through the banked curve.  I was careful to fall back from the rider I was following. It felt like I was naturally riding aggressive.

The instructor exited off the track and we were given free reign as a group. I increased speed through the corners holding my own and just as the thought crossed my head, “this isn’t so bad, I seem to have got this pretty good for a first timer…” five other bikes passed me in rapid fire.  I was the slowest person on the track.  That ego slam was quickly followed by guilt. Was I getting in the way and being a speed bump?  I refocused attention and tried to decipher the cornering lines doing my best to look deep into each curve and avoid hyper attention to what was right in front of me. Powering through the corners to give my Honda the traction she needs. On the straightaway I would put in some juice but still very conservative, unsure how much braking it would take to safely get through turn one and the quick succession of turns after that.  

And then it was over. Our beginner heat was done.  The three checkered flags located at different spots on the track went out and I could see the one nearest me easily. Each of us raised our left hand while maintaining speed and exited to pit row. Soon afterward the beginners all met at the class room.  My point of freak out was quickly addressed. I ask the instructor about my concern of being in other’s way.  He quickly squashed it.  “It is their responsibility to pass you, don’t worry about it. The track is wide and the passing areas are all over the place. You just focus on learning the lines, looking into the corner, being smooth and consistent, the speed with come later.” 

There are no relative markers of speed on the track. On normal roads there are markers everywhere, other cars, speed limit signs, your own speedometer both on the vehicle and in your head.  All giving you information, how fast you’re going relative to traffic, the safe speed to take the corner coming up how much risk you have to be snagged by a cop. All of that goes away. I read before coming on the track and followed advise to mask my speedometer so I wouldn’t have that distraction. Without mirrors I had no idea who was behind me or if I was impeding their path, another distraction removed. All I had to worry about was to try and get the turn lines right and ride consistent and smooth.  If I don’t do anything unexpected or jerk through a corner, the riders behind me will be able to safely set a pass line around me. The focus narrows to just the sound of my engine, look as far into the corner as possible and decide which line to take.  For the newbie with no experience that blank slate brings its own confusion. How fast should I take this corner? I have no idea.  Where’s the traction envelope? Again, I got nothin’. What line should I focus on? Good story, you got Cliff Notes on that?   Without input on any of these things it is my inherent reaction to respond with less speed.  I am just not one of those guys who jumps in with both feet into the deep end of the pool. I have to start easy and work my way up to the edge of the envelope.

The second heat felt really good.  I could now see the cones on the side of the track for what they were, reference points. One was at the apex of each turn and based on that I made my beginner’s attempts at learning how to corner for speed. Other series of cones were at the entrance to each turn to give a reference point of when to brake and or change gears.  From them I was able to start to explore the path toward higher acceleration.  I knew I could continue to accelerate right up to those cones and begin braking as they came near.  I knew my Honda could handle much more than I was asking of her just based on the performance as viewed against those two reference points.  The Hurricane even surprised me when I finally got a good approach and exit out of turn nine and into the straight away, I hit the throttle at about seven thousand rpm with yet a lot of straightaway in front of me so I pushed her even further. I had never heard Old Blue sound like that, she was ten thousand rpm and the Hurricane was waking up and asking for more. From experience I know that seven thousand rpms on the Honda is about ninety miles an hour. Eight thousand pushes me over a hundred miles an hour so ten thousand rpms is probably in the one hundred and ten mile an hour range.  Although at the time there was only surprise at the new sounds coming from the engine and the firm stable feel of the suspension as we screamed across the straight away toward turn 1. This is what we were there for.  To push the limits and feel good about it.  This time though the heat was cut short by a red flag as someone’s muffler had fallen off.  All the riders raised left hands and exited.  I was not disappointed, I was exalting in the feeling of having performed solidly despite being just the second time on the track.  

My heat was separated by a forty-five minute interval as the other groups rode.  The advanced with their blistering sounds of one hundred eighty miles per hour or more and knee drag cornering were followed by intermediates on modern bikes that from my unaccustomed eyes looked just as intimidating as the advanced.  Then the intermediates on vintage bikes with their cornucopia of engine sounds that were highlighted by the announcer.  The announcer really enjoyed their day, bringing all of us calm with fun comments and his genuine awe and appreciation for both the variation of motorcycles on the track and the talent of the riders.  Where necessary chastising those that crossed the safety lines presented at the early morning rider’s meeting.  No comment wasted as each statement was a subconscious learning of what to do, what not to do, what to look for and spark that seed of appreciation. 

The third heat was coming up and I was feeling much more comfortable. I didn’t have the need to get myself in position on the first call.  I waited until five minutes prior to start up Old Blue.  The starter cranked but the engine didn’t fire.  Three attempts each progressively longer told me the old bike was feeling a bit winded by all the activity and the battery was lagging on being recharged.  On the fourth attempt the engine finally turned.  That alone made my third heat heavily conservative.  Old Blue wasn’t giving up, but I didn’t want to push her. We went in nice and slow on heat 3, just for the experience of learning together. The track instructor road in front of me signaling to follow as he showed me the lines but several times he had to wait for me to catch up. My envelope chasing enthusiasm was gone for the day, replaced by concern for the mechanical soundness of the old Hurricane. Still I learned a tremendous amount just by following the coach for the sixty seconds that we rode like that.  The third heat went the full fifteen minutes and the Honda kept it together and finished. My confidence was gone. I decided to pack it in rather than push the old girl.  

I have a winch in the back of my truck that makes loading easy and safe.  After securing a couple lashings, a bit of nostalgia swept over me and I patted the tank as one might pat a horse. “We did good today, it was a good day.”  We’d ridden several thousand miles together, even taking on seven hundred miles in one day and there was certainly a connection in that endurance.  Today was a different kind of connection.  One that we’ll have to do again before I can really describe it for you.

[electricbluetimemachine]

my Polishness

Today marks 100 years of Polish independence.

100 years since we re-appeared on maps of the Europe and the world.

It made me think about what actually means to me being Polish and how Polish I still feel after living in London for 8 years now, and calling this place my home.

I started thinking about all this guilt raising in my bones sometimes when someone asks me about current Polish government and I don’t know anything. What is more I don’t actually want to know. Since 2010 -  since the very important airplane crash which became turning point in Polish politics - then I just gave up on it. I was too angry and frustrated to care.

I’m not Polish in Poland and I’m not British in London. I’m just an immigrant. I’m one of a million of Polish immigrants in United Kingdom. I have even no idea how many in the world. I’m telling you whenever I go anywhere there are always some Polish folks around.

Sometimes I feel so bad that my ancestors were fighting to regain Polish independence, they were giving up their lives for our country to exist after being erased from the map for 123 years!

For 123 years Poland didn’t exist on the map, only in the hearts of those who believed in the future of our country.

And there is me too angry at the current government, too much rooted into a different country’s  mentality to be living anywhere else.

There is me waving a flag of total ignorance. Only from time to time screaming Chopin! Or rather Szopen! And Maria Sklodowska-Curie instead of some ‘Marie Curie’ woman. Polish blood! They were Polish but they emigrated and became famous in France to the point that so many people have no idea where are they from! Can you hear it? It’s the scream of my national pride! There is this fire in my blood telling me that no one else can say bad things about my country and my hometown apart from me and the rest who also live / lived there.

You will never be there in late 80s and 90s in Poland when we were dreaming beyond our grey everydayness, when shelves were slowly filling up with all the products from West. When grandparents were telling you stories of standing in the que for tomatoes and oranges and when everything was on coupons - doesn’t matter if you have money or not, everything was rationed.

You don’t know that school education - all about freedom, all about wars, all about Poland being Christ of the Europe - taking all the beating.

You don’t know Sundays in church because there was a time when the church was the opposition to the government, it was place of hope, it was about the feeling of being united. We had ‘ our’ Pope and everyone was so proud as he had actually changed the history of our country.

Everyone ‘ bad’ was ‘ red’ - red was colour of the communist government.

You don’t know much about Polish music in 80s  = voice of the revolution. There was a censorship and certain stuff couldn’t be said out loud. However the Polish culture found the way  - using codes and jokes. Using film and tv medium, using literature and music, using cabaret (meaning more like comedy sketches and political satire than dancing).

You didn’t eat history lessons for breakfast. Yes, the second world war finished in 1945, but Poland wasn’t truly free till 1989 and history books our parents had at school were re-written for my generation.

In a way Polish independence is still very young, and the country doesn’t have a clue what to do with it. 

I can give you all the names of Polish artists, who won’t mean absolutely nothing to you.

I can tell you about growing up in a typical Polish blocks of flats, with at least one dog per family, with all of kids at the same age at the playground, people hanging out at their balconies as there is always someone’s name’s day ( almost more important than birthday) singing out loud, about house parties - pubs weren’t a thing just yet. 

I can tell you about what every child in Poland have been taught: don’t go outside with a wet head ( you will catch a cold! ), drink tea after a hot meal etc. We all have heard when struggling your big portion of family meal ‘ eat the meat, leave the potatoes’.

You didn’t watch tv series of 80s talking about faulty block of flats and the mistakes of the system so bad that you could only laugh but it was so close to the bone it practically can be taken as a documentary right now.

You haven’t seen ‘ Psy ‘ aka ‘ Pigs’ movie talking about the police in early 90s which is as powerful as Taxi Driver mashed up with some Tarantino.  However without background knowledge wouldn’t mean anything to you and you won’t love Linda as much as we all do.

You don’t know about Russian cartoon about a wolf and a rabbit with an excellent soundtrack and a bit better than Tom & Jerry ( you will disagree and i don’t care).

You don’t know about how sacred Polish bread is. You don’t know about the power of chicken soup. Tradition, safety and a cure for all the bad things in one bowl / plate. And you don’t know that entire nation would eat chicken soup every Sunday. Synchronized tradition.

You don’t know good pork is until you will try ‘ schabowe’. Preferably my mum’s Schabowe as they were the best in the entire whole world, anyone who tried them can confirm.

Your school reading list wasn’t about ALL the possible battles EVER fought by Polish army. Yes we’re not only talking about world wars but the 1410 battle, we are talking about every moment Poles were fighting with pride.

You weren’t the first generation brought up in the true independence, trying to figure out how to bite on capitalism with still all habits rooted in every corner of society. The wave of coca-cola, oranges and all Western culture coming your way when you were child.

You haven’t watch tv series for kids with little round computer virus called ‘ Wow’ who was intelligent enough to escaped the computer and it was hiding in a suitcase and kids had to protect him from the bad people.

You haven’t seen ‘ Szansa na Sukces ( ‘A Chance for Success’) first talent show before all Xfactor, Idol etc. ) It was on 3 pm every Sunday, therefore you wouldn’t know any of Mann’s jokes.

Basically there is a bit of my personality visible only in a Polish light. There is an extra layer of culture knowledge which won’t come to use in a pub quiz and you won’t talk about it with me.

I do understand there is no need for you to know it and i’m okay with it.

What i’m saying - it is in me and i’m proud of it.

I don’t think there is any other country just like Poland. With its pride. With being squeezed between Russia and Germany. Try it yourself if you feel you can be any wiser.

With Russians always lying to Polish people, with Polish people being trained to never trust Russians. For generations we have been programmed to always trick the system - since the system wasn’t really ‘ ours’.

With grandparents saying that communism was better as we all have the same, everyone had a job and everything was growing. Not mention the massive debt our government took and all the other lies in between but the fact was that everyone was almost the same.

If you were in the opposition they could come over any time of day and night, put you in prison or beat you up so badly that you will shut up. Or would you?

For some Europeans everything started with the falling of the Berlin wall but truthfully it was Poland who started the movement. I’m not a history teacher, check the facts yourself and we can discuss afterwards.

Poland was always a rebel in a pot of European nations.

I do miss it sometimes and the fact that i don’t really belong there in a way makes me melancholic and sad and a bit guilty. But what is the country? What does it mean to belong to one country? Is the tradition I miss? Is it the pride it was given to me in my blood and in all the books and all the poems?

Sometimes I miss is so bad that makes me cry. Honestly. On the other hand I can’t imagine living there as I felt like I’m in a box which is way too small for me and I can’t really be myself.

From the very first time I came to London I felt like I belong here. Like I can do more and no one will judge me, no one will be jealous of whatever the fuck other people were.

Maybe this whole melancholic hand grabbing me by my throat, especially on Sunday afternoon are just childhood memories, about just chilling on the couch with my family, about just being a kid and then teenager with lots of homework to do popping out her room to the living room to see a movie together instead of learning something for some yet another test. Maybe it’s all the cosy feelings and all the food and that safety net there was. Maybe I just really miss being a kid without all this grown up responsibility, without deciding if i have enough money to have dual citizenship, just in case Brexit will decide to cut off my rights as a foreign living in the UK.

Maybe it is the memory of me on that late night train to Poznan to catch the morning flight to London in September 2010.  My mum and me we both knew it’s a one way ticket and I might never come back for good. There was this big, red suitcase. And there was me sitting next to my mum when she was giving me the last pieces of advice before the new chapter of my life  - to always take care of myself, to always educate myself more, to never give up my dreams, to work hard and enjoy my life to the fullest.

Maybe Poland it is just my family. Polish flag, the language I used to be so great at and now it only appears in the conversations with my family or squeezed in my dreams between all the English words.

There was a time when i felt slightly ashamed to say I’m Polish. I could see people’s faces changing after hearing where I am from. However I have changed since then. Yes i’m Polish and I worked hard for all I’ve got. I wouldn’t make it without all the people I have met.  And maybe yes, they can’t pronounce my surname - but no one ever could since I remember.  However, they can always pronounce my first name and that’s what it counts.

[janetchavezcom]

10 Saltwater Night Fishing Tips for Maximizing Fishing Success

As the sun begins to set, fish will begin to move inshore to feed, safe in the knowledge that the blanket of nightfall offers them some protection from predators. As an angler, fishing at night can increase our chances of having success, largely because the fish are closer to shore and are feeding.

However, fishing at night is not without its own set of problems. Sitting on a dark barely lit stretch of isolated beach can be an unnerving experience, and they aren’t without their own dangers, especially in remote or unfamiliar locations.

Most anglers will tend to band together on such nights, even to the point that some locations are crowded with fishermen, especially on the most industrious evenings. So, if you’re worried about fishing at night, there should be plenty of locations where you can fish in the company of other like-minded individuals, including well-illuminated piers and promenades.

But if you prefer your own company and you’re not worried by the dark and isolation, then there are many locations you can cast out your baited hook for some monster fish. But, I would still recommend fishing with a friend for safeties sake, especially if you’re heading to more dangerous shorelines. Angling during the night time is most productive between 8 pm and 3 am, especially if high tide hits at around 12 am.

Saltwater Night Fishing Tips

Clear and calm nights are better for night time fishing compared to windy rough seas. This is predominantly because fish are able to feed closer shore when the seas are rougher, so there’s a less of a need to do so in twilight hours as well.

In calm, clear waters, fish will be active once the sun has completely set, if the moon is out this can be off-putting to fish, preventing them from moving into shallower waters.

To maximize our chances of success, we’re looking for nights that are cool, crisp, calm and with the tides working in our favor. We’ve had great success during frosty winter evenings when every other sensible person is wrapped up in bed, but this is the time to maximize our fishing success.

Choose The Right Location

Before heading out to a fishing location during the night, you must check it out during the daytime. Take a look when the tide is out so you can get a good idea of what the seabed looks like and where any potential hazards are located.

Doing this not only allows you to avoid snags and hazards, but you’ll be able to see the casting distance to interesting features such as sandbars, weed beds and rocks. Additionally, you’ll be able to see how you can get to your fishing location safely and what you should look out for when the visibility is poor.

Fishing a location during daylight hours can be dangerous, doing so in the dark when you’re unfamiliar with the landscape is doubly so. Know where your exits are, where any cliffs or rock formations are located and make sure your fishing spot won’t be threatened by large waves or the swell.

It’s a good idea to choose a location which has a shorter distance between the low and high water marks. This will allow you to set everything up and not have to continuously move as the tide comes in or goes out. You want to keep your movement to a minimum when visibility is poor.

The location you choose when night fishing can have a huge impact on your likelihood of success, so pick your site with care. Remember which way the tides are going and reference your daytime reccy when deciding on a spot. Keep in mind that the tides ebb and flow will go in opposite directions depending on whether the tide is coming in or going out.

Setup your base camp above the high tide mark. You’ll be able to tell where to high tide normally reaches by the previous tide lines or the debris deposited on the beach. Just bear in mind that spring tides tend to push further up the beach, this can be emphasized if there’s a strong onshore wind. It’s a good idea to have some sort of shelter at your base of operation, this can be a purpose made tent or even an umbrella. This helps keep tackle and bait dry and can be a pleasant retreat from the wind and cold if required.

Set Everything Up From the Start

Taking to the time to set up an organized central base when fishing, especially when it’s from the beach, can save a lot of headache and time later on. Making sure the vital and essential pieces of gear are near at hand can make your life much easier.

Take special care with live bait. Many live baits are susceptible to cold weather, wind, rain and colder temperatures can quickly kill baits such as worms. Make sure the bait is stored in an out of the way location, you don’t want to be standing on a Tupperware box by accident.

It’s a good idea to have a few different kinds of rigs set up before you head out fishing, you can even pre-bait them to make your life easier. When its dark and possibly cold, the last thing you want to be doing is setting up a fiddly and intricate rig. Many rod rests have bars and clips that are specially made for holding unused rigs.

Having a spare reel to hand is must have, untangling line or snags during daylight hours is hard enough, when its dark it’s a near impossible task. Swapping the reel out for another one is much easier and will maximize the time you have your bait in the water and therefore increases the chances of landing a fish. The same goes for many of the small yet essential pieces of gear you have in your tackle box. In the dark stuff seems to just vanish, only to be discovered again when the sun has risen. Having duplicates of your must-have items such as knives, scissors and pliers can make your life much easier if something is misplaced on a rock somewhere.

Illuminate Your Surroundings

A fuel-powered lamp can be a great source of light as well as heat, the problem is they can be dangerous and fiddly to operate. If you plan on using one, make sure you know how to do so safely and ensure it’s located in an out of the way location where it’s unlikely to be knocked over. A lamp pole is a great investment as you can adjust the height of the lamp and keep it well clear of your feet and casting.

If you’re uncomfortable with fuel lamps, headlamps are another great option. LEDs have come a long way in recent years and are perfectly capable of replacing traditional light bulbs, they are also very energy efficient, which means you can get many hours of lighting out of a single set of batteries. Another advantage of headlamps is that your hand are free to get on with the actual fishing.

Practice in the Daytime

It can be a challenge to accurately cast when it’s dark, even for experienced anglers. Not only do you not know where your bait has landed, but knowing where to cast is difficult. It’s a great idea to practice casting in the same location during the daylight hours, you can then use that knowledge to cast accurately when it’s dark.

You can also employ a fixed spool reel to ensure you don’t overcast or alternatively use the magnetic brake controls on your multiplier reel to limit your casting distance.

When it’s dark, fish are generally feeding much closer to shore, so there’s very little reason to cast out beyond the horizon.

Taking a few minutes to familiarise yourself with daytime casting can save you a lot of headaches once the sun has set.

Spotting a Bite

The lack of light can make spotting a bite challenging. However, there are a couple of easy solutions. Simply adding a fishing glow stick to the end of the rod make spotting a bite a piece of cake, they come in packs of 10 or more and a single tip can last a whole night of fishing. Alternatively, you can wrap the tip of your rod in some reflective tape or simply paint it white with a spot of Tippex. Problem sorted!

Just make sure your rod tip is within your line of sight, you don’t want to be continually looking up at it, not only is this uncomfortable but it can cause neck cramps after a while.

For a high tech solution, consider a rod alarm. These can be as simple as a bell placed on the line, or an electronic device that detects movements in the line and signals an alarm if a bite is detected.

Keep Warm and Alert

Having a great nights sleep the previous evening is the best way to avoid your night time fishing trip from being miserable, this helps you stay warm and alert. Avoid consuming alcohol or building a fire, as these will make you feel worse once the effects have started to wear away.

It’s been said before, but layering is a great way of keeping warm when the temperature drops at night. Lots of thinner layers are normally better than one thick layer as it’ll allow you to remove some if your too hot or add more if you’re too cold. Having a thermos of hot drinks and some food is a great way to pick yourself up if you feel yourself beginning to flag. Also, a hat is a must-have item, every fisherman should own at least one hat.

Fish Don’t Need to See Your Lure

You might not think it, and I was certainly a bit skeptical when I went night fishing with lures for the first time, but fish don’t need to see your lure to be attracted to it. Originally I thought I’d need to invest in some sort of luminescent lure, or something that was powered by batteries, but that’s not the case. Many moons ago, when I had more hair, I had a lot to learn about fishing. I still have a lot to learn, but I know at least know that fish don’t necessarily need to see the lure to take it.

On my very first cast on my very first-night fishing excursion, I caught a fish with just a standard lure. At that time I didn’t quite understand why that was the case but the upshot was that I no longer worried about fishing at night with lures.

Many fish species are less reliant on vision to locate their prey, instead placing more emphasis on movement, sound, vibrations, and smells. I’ve proved this time and again by using small lures in the dead of night in disturbed dirty water, but still managed to catch plenty of fish. Common sense would suggest that this is incredibly difficult for the fish to do, but they time and again take my lures in these conditions.

 So, don’t doubt the lured that you’re using, you don’t need anything fancy or glow in the dark. Any decent lure can work when saltwater night fishing.

Give Some Thought to Size and Shape of Lures

In my opinion, the action, shape, and size of a lure are far more important than almost anything else. This is doubly so when you’re fishing after the sun has set.

It’s these design aspects that give your lure it’s characteristics as it moves through the water. Fish are incredibly adept at tracking these movements and vibrations back to the source. During the twilight hours, predatory fish are highly attuned to the movements and vibrations around them as it signifies their next meal.

When picking out a lure to use, I would normally recommend trying to match it the type of baitfish you’d expect to see in the area. For example, if we’d expect to see herring in the water, I’ll choose a lipless bait or flat crank. These type of lures mimic the movement and vibrations of the bit fish very well and therefore very attractive to the predatory fish.

Color Matters, Just Make Sure It’s Black

Even though I’ve already stated that color doesn’t matter, I need to contradict myself slightly and say that black lures work very well.

Darkly colored or black lures are incredibly effective both in the daytime and during the night-time, they just work, but there is a very good reason for this as well.

All predatory fish, but specifically those that specialize in fishing at night time, are fantastic at identifying silhouettes of their prey from below. So, the stronger the silhouette produced by the lure, they greater the chances of it being taken by a fish.

You might not think it, but a dark colored lure is actually easier to see from below when compared to a lighter colored lure. The reason for this is even when it’s dark, the light produced by the moon and stars creates a bright sky, so any darkly colored objects that block out this moon and starlight are easy to spot. A lighter color of a lure is harder to distinguish from the bright sky, so it’s therefor more challenging for the fish to see it.

Avoid Glow in The Dark Lures

I’ve tried nearly every lure when fishing at night, and without a doubt, glow in the dark lures are less effective than standard lures. The only exception to this is if you’re in some seriously deep water, where you might find luminescent baitfish.

If you’re night fishing in coastal waters, you’re not going to see much natural bioluminescence, except maybe for plankton. That’s not to say that it doesn’t have its place in night lures. A small amount of glow in the dark paint for eyes, or for a few spots down the side of the lure can draw attention to it. But a full lure made out of glow in the dark material just looks odd and will probably put fish off rather than attract them.

Final Thoughts

Fishing at night can be great fun, but in order to maximize your chances of success, you need to be organized. Wearing the right clothes and making sure you’re equipped with the right gear can massively increase your enjoyment. Spending a few minutes scoping out your chosen fishing spot during the daylight hours is highly recommended, it might just make the difference between success and potential disaster.

With a little bit for forward planning, you’re nearly guaranteed to catch fish on a twilight fishing trip.

crowsurvival.com

The post 10 Saltwater Night Fishing Tips for Maximizing Fishing Success appeared first on Crow Survival.

source https://www.crowsurvival.com/saltwater-night-fishing-tips/ source https://crowsurvival.blogspot.com/2018/08/10-saltwater-night-fishing-tips-for.html

[ultrasfcb-blog]

Jolyon Palmer column: Hamilton v Raikkonen and F1

Jolyon Palmer column: Hamilton v Raikkonen and F1

Jolyon Palmer column: Hamilton v Raikkonen and F1

Former F1 driver Jolyon Palmer, who left Renault during the 2017 season, has joined the BBC team to offer insight and analysis from the point of view of the competitors.

The clash between Kimi Raikkonen and Lewis Hamilton at Sunday’s British Grand Prix caused a great deal of controversy – but the Mercedes driver effectively lost the race at the start, not three corners later.

Hamilton should have won. He had the pace in clear air, he had the degradation of the tyres under control – more so than anybody else – and, crucially, he had taken pole position with a brilliant lap on Saturday.

But a woeful getaway, with too much wheel spin off the line, dropped Hamilton to third immediately, behind the Ferrari of eventual winner Sebastian Vettel and the other Mercedes of Valtteri Bottas.

In a one-stop race, with Ferrari and Mercedes so evenly matched, it would have been tough for Hamilton to recover to beat Vettel, even before the Raikkonen incident. That is especially true with no apparent team orders to allow him to pass Bottas as well.

The only proviso is that we will never know what would have happened under the safety car in that situation.

Lewis Hamilton drove superbly to recover from last place after a first-lap collision with Kimi Raikkonen, to finish second

‘A bit more caution from Hamilton might have been better’

In my view, Hamilton could have been a bit safer with Raikkonen when the Ferrari driver attacked him into Turn Three on the opening lap, where his race completely turned.

They were side by side into the corner, Raikkonen on the inside. Hamilton gave him space but took a bit of a risk because he didn’t allow Raikkonen any margin for error. As Raikkonen locked up, it was clear he was trying to avoid an accident, but he ended up running into Hamilton’s Mercedes.

If Hamilton had gone slightly wider around the corner he would then still have had the inside for Turn Four and surely kept the place. They might have still clashed but the risk would have been much reduced, as Raikkonen would have had more space to lock up into on his outside.

There’s no doubt that Hamilton is not to blame for the incident, and the stewards laid it firmly on Raikkonen. But thinking about the championship – and even the race itself – a bit more caution from Hamilton might have been a better option. After all, he had the pace to recover.

Having said that, hindsight is always a wonderful thing and the fact it was Hamilton’s home race and he got off to a bad start was probably playing on his mind as well. It’s only an issue because Raikkonen went in deep trying to gain the position and hit him.

Raikkonen was penalised for it, and also took responsibility for it after the race, which I thought was very decent of him, as it’s rare to see a driver be so mature in the heat of the moment.

Both men had brilliant drives after the incident. Raikkonen showed a rare moment of passion over the radio, clearly frustrated about being stuck behind the slower Red Bulls. He then had fantastic pace to recover to a podium after a brilliant wheel-to-wheel dice with Max Verstappen.

Vettel’s victory was his fourth of the season, one more than Hamilton, and he is now eight points clear in the Championship race

Hamilton, on the other hand, had much more to do. Dropping to the back, he put on one of his best drives for a long time to recover to second, finishing only just behind Vettel.

After the race, Hamilton and Mercedes were both immensely frustrated. Part of that was down to it being the second time in three races that one of their drivers had been put to the back after an over-zealous Ferrari overtaking attempt on the first lap.

They dropped unsubtle hints Ferrari might have done it deliberately. Of course, this is unfounded. And once the dust had settled on Sunday, Mercedes F1 boss Toto Wolff appreciated that – as did Hamilton.

Raikkonen is not a dirty driver at all, and he certainly doesn’t owe Ferrari and Vettel any help for the remainder of the year as he’s almost certain to be replaced by Sauber’s Charles Leclerc for 2019.

On top of this, an accident at the first corner would usually hobble both parties, as it did in France two weeks ago, when both Vettel and Bottas ended up at the back and were sentenced to recovery drives.

Was Raikkonen’s penalty right?

It is fair enough to deem Raikkonen at fault for the incident. But I just can’t get my head around the penalty given to him – 10 seconds, when in my view Vettel’s clash with Bottas in France was slightly worse. Vettel came from further back in a faster corner, and he only got a five-second penalty for that.

There’s no consistency and that’s the most frustrating thing as a driver. It is much like in football, where penalty decisions aren’t black and white.

Tunisia rugby-tackling Harry Kane to the ground during England’s World Cup opener was allowed, but when Panama tried to do the same thing, it was immediately a penalty. How can players know where they stand when it’s like that?

I had the same frustration last year. I was forced off the track by Fernando Alonso in Spa. He received no penalty. Fine. But what irked me was that in the previous race, Kevin Magnussen got a five-second penalty for doing exactly the same to Nico Hulkenberg.

‘I had the same frustration last year. I was forced off the track by Fernando Alonso in Spa. He received no penalty.’

It’s the consistency that is so frustrating. The penalty system should be more black and white. In my opinion – and that of many drivers – the judgements made in specific incidents are too variable.

If Magnussen had pushed me off in Spa that time and Alonso had pushed Hulkenberg off in Budapest, I bet Magnussen would still be punished and Alonso would still get away with it. Each case should be judged on its individual merits rather than who is involved or the consequences.

Does F1 need penalties?

The wider question is whether F1 needs penalties at all for incidents such as these.

People love close, hard racing. It’s what everybody watches the sport for. They love safety cars, too. And this year has really highlighted that a safety car can turn a boring race into a thriller, with a strategy roll of the dice and the tightening up of the field.

Yes, a collision like the one on Sunday is unfair on Hamilton, and the French clash was unfair on Bottas. But sometimes that’s racing.

There wasn’t any malice in the mistakes made by either Raikkonen or Vettel. They were racing hard for position and got it slightly wrong.

It was the same when Romain Grosjean crashed with Carlos Sainz at Copse on Sunday. It was a much faster corner, and a much bigger accident. But the decision to judge it a racing incident was the right verdict, even though it was technically Grosjean’s moment of oversteer that meant he drifted into a vulnerable Sainz.

Fundamentally, what is the difference between that and the Raikkonen and Vettel clashes? The driver on the inside was technically left enough room to make it around the corner but a small error, or excess speed, meant they ran wider and hit the car on the outside.

How does a super expensive F1 steering wheel work?

The collision produced a thrilling race at Silverstone and some more entertainment in France as well. Should people be complaining about it?

Maybe, in the same way as a footballer isn’t sent off any more for a “genuine attempt to play the ball”, a driver shouldn’t be penalised for a genuine attempt to overtake or defend that leads to a mistake and contact.

I still fully endorse a penalty for any move that was dangerous or cynical. The equivalent of a red card in football. Indeed, perhaps these penalties could be harder.

For example, if a driver was to force another driver off the road, particularly in a straight line, they could be dealt with more strictly as this is an obvious and deliberate attempt at unfair driving. It could be the same for clearly moving twice in defence, as Verstappen has been guilty of a number of times, and which is clearly outlawed in the rules.

And of course, penalties should be used for incidents such as pit-lane speeding or not getting out of the way of blue flags. In these instances, things are black and white.

In days of old, penalties weren’t handed out at all for collisions during legitimate racing situations. There was high drama, and it was all good for the sport.

It’s a difficult call because Mercedes, Hamilton and their fans will feel aggrieved, particularly with the importance of this race for the Briton. But if the shoe is on the other foot, they will happily take it at the next race.

BBC Sport – Formula 1 ultras_FC_Barcelona

ultras FC Barcelona - https://ultrasfcb.com/formula1/8860/

#Barcelona

[kingscountycomics]

Twentysix. 6. 'Thirdeye x 3rd-I' (pt. a)

I'm vertically expanding my third eye into the core of the Earth. A lance of imperceptible light, withdrawn from the downward center of everything, now raised upright in a horizontal challenge. Two million unicorns, all parading around daily with varying degrees of stellar self projecting from their frontal lobe. My own spike shooting forth, clearing a path, and drawing onlookers who can't see, but feel my presence.

I'm at the 8th Street subway station over by Astor. On the other side I spot several innocents milling about, on their way home from dinner, drinks, dancing. I suspiciously try to subdue my soul long enough to slip by, escape out on to the streets above where I'll have room to maneuver.

Trains speed along the four rows of tracks between me and the others, and just as the trains pass they make their move. I can't see it from the other side but I know the scene. Eyes glaze over as brainwashing triggers seep into their ears from the headphones of their iWorlds.

The young girl is first across, bounding and leaping between the pillars. She drives her knee towards my face. I slip under as she smashes the tiles, and I make a dash for the stairs. From the corner of my eye I see McAllister has commanded a dozen more civilian assassins with his gadget.

I skid to a halt at the bottom of the stairs. Behind me a slew of flying and leaping attackers. On the top step, a Thai warrior in sandals waits patiently for my first move.

Maybe leaving New Jersey before my powers returned wasn't such a good idea. I should have known it wouldn't be this easy to sneak back into New York City.

As I'm typing this, I suddenly feel my consciousness being sucked through a straw. I warble into being at a bar out in Brooklyn. I glance at my watch and will see that I've been brought through time and space. Only one girl would teleport me to Williamsburg on a Saturday Night...

Megan Strange.

She pops over my shoulder as I think her name. I should have guessed. "It's not time for you in the story yet darlin'..."

"Oh phooey." She waves her hand and schrunches her nose, her pink highlights accenting her freckles. With a snap of her fingers and a smirk she sends me back to finish my story. Her story.

Out in New Jersey I had put my fractured mind back together, my body long since healed. Mentally resurected, I found myself wandering the outskirts of New York City, afraid of what lie in store for me across the Hudson.

My powers were all but gone and I was trying to get them back but it seemed they were temporarily blocked. At least I hoped it was temporary.

I went online so I could speak with other superpowered folks to get a better idea of what was behind all this. Taia Nihilation, the explosive jailbait anarchist who carved a path of destruction through Philadelphia, mentioned something about papaya extract. It worked to a degree but I was still not nearly strong enough to sneak back into my city. A few others from the tri-state area gave me some hints. But impatience got the best of me and within a few months I was trying to sneak back in.

I contacted Eve Impossible, knowing that she would be my best bet for slipping in unnoticed. I had my best disguise on as I went to meet up with her on the Manhattan side of the Holland Tunnel. I hit Canal, made a right, and headed up the stairs to the club.

It was lowkey and still as I searched the room. Odds are she would find me way before I spotted her. Unsure and feeling nervous, I had a beer or two before the dance floor exploded to life. The music was infectiously upbeat and I bounced right into it. I was letting go and celebrated living through the severe beating I received a few months back, just a few stories above this exact location in fact. Ms. Mercury had made it clear I was not welcome here.

But I wasn't thinking of her as I danced. I wasn't thinking of anyone but myself. And that's when Eve appeared before me. We were suddenly moving and grooving and getting down. Our mad passion to dance was spreading to all those around us as the night swung wildly on.

A few hours later we hit the streets as she led me into the empty outside. She doesn't say much and encourages me to do the same. Eve stops in front of an all black sports car as the passenger side door pops open.

"Get in. I'll contact you when I can."

I silently and obediently followed her instructions and plopped myself into the seat. The door shut of its own accord and I watched Eve, her blonde hair whipping behind her as she walked coldly away. I turned to the driver who was just as intimidatingly quiet.

I tried to strike up conversation as I was escorted back through the tunnel, but this man in black would have none of it. He was stone so I gave up and enjoyed the ride. But I felt defeated. I would have to rely on Eve Impossible from this point on.

Knowing our history I was surprised she got back to me as soon as she did. She gave me another place to meet up. I was headed out the door when Daisy Hurricane landed before me. I had ran from her a few weeks earlier as she fought me to love her.

I expected a fight that, despite being a bit stronger than before, I would instantly lose. But instead she wanted to say goodbye.

"I just want to make sure you're safe and that you're good. Use this if there's any trouble." And with that she handed me a red sword. It looked old but felt like a true weapon.

I hugged her tight and we both knew that we'd never see each other again. Tears welled up as the sound of helicopter blades suddenly rose up all around us. Daisy tossed me to safety as the bullets from the attack helicopter started ripping everything to shreds. She had caught a slug or two but felt nothing. Instead she channelled her anxiety, frustration, and broken heart on the attackers above.

Whirling into the air she knocked the copter about, whipping the winds about her. Landing gently on its side she drove her fists through the armor. She waves me off and continues to pound the artillery into scrap. I race off down the block, blood red blade in hand. My powers were pulsating in bursts, surging me forward with each pounce. SUVs screech around the corner, each with mercenaries firing automatic weapons. I grip the sheath and draw the blade.

Leaping and soaring over the hoods of the skidding trucks, I drive the sword slicing through the steel. The cars all flip and crash as I land and roar down the street. The train is blasting its engines as it pounds down the track. I pounce off a lightpost and snag a handhold, tossing myself onto the roof. We're speeding past Main Street as I see the calvary arrive in black, driving off in the wrong direction.

Just a few miles out of NYC I feel a presence behind me. I'm about to glance behind when I smell Strawberries and misfortune. "Megan, not yet. I haven't even made it back into New York yet."

"Can't you hurry it up? I want to go dancing..." I can hear her pout.

"Give me a few paragraphs sweetness."

Back on the tracks the trains bursts into Penn Station. I leap down and wrap the sword in a garbage bag. Suspicious as heck, I make my way to Union Square. Just a few minutes til the meet with Eve. Better hustle.

I'm running all the things I learned from the others I communicated with. Mary Mega's meditational mantra, Dr. Dementia's prescription of pleasure, and Minnie Soda's delicate drunken dance. They used their own magick to enhance and empower themselves. I needed to find my trigger.

Eve was late. Or I was. I shook my watch and looked up and down the block again. Empty. I started getting nervous. The people were what made this city safe. An omnipresent third party; witness and observer.

A petite blone turned the corner. She had her head down, under a hood, but her golden locks hung unevenly from beneath. She felt magical and friendly, even on these dark, foreboding streets.

I opened my mouth to speak but before I could say anything, her fingers shot out, and pressed against my lips. Her subtle twinkling eyes rose up from under the hood, locking onto mine. The moon lit up her serious smile as it transformed into a devilish smirk.

I was sent soaring straight up into the air, hit by some unseen force. She floated up next to me and grabbed me by the collar. She whizzed me around and hurled me into the side of a building a block down. I hit it hard, but grabbed hold of a ledge and hung there gathering my senses.

She zoomed towards me beating her pixie wings furiously. Her fists extended she was intent on finishing me off. I pounce off the side of the building and glide towards a flag pole. I wind up just missing it as I get a shoulder block in the back from the toughest fairy I've ever met.

We're zooming towards the pavement as I roll with the hit, flipping myself onto her back. Clumsily, I jump off as I steer her into the sidewalk. I land and start to run. My muscles start to come alive with kinetic intensity. By the time I reach the corner I'm skipping blocks at a time.

I whipped back around and slid back through Union Square. Crouched and ready for a fight I survey the scene. Eve Impossible is standing alone outside the subway station, her trenchcoat buttoned up and tied tight. The wind is gently churning through the scene.

"What's this about Eve? A double cross? You work for McAllister now too?"

"I'm sorry Charles. But I work on my own. This was a favor for a friend."

The entire area lights up in a golden flash. I'm temporarily blinded but I feel a presence. An oh-so familiar presence.

"Helena...?" I muttered weakly.

My vision came back in waves and Ms. Mercury shimmered to life before me. She was a golden goddess. Pure sensual pulsar sheen radiating all around her body.

Ms. Mercury called out, "Luna!"

The ferocious pixie came and landed on one side of me. She was scowling at me and ready to pounce at Mercury's command.

A fluttering of pigeons signaled the arrival of Raptor who appeared behind me. The four of them had me surrounded at each point. Even though I felt the thrust within me, ready to burst, I would never be able to take on all four. I wouldn't even be able to survive one hit from Ms. Mercury.

Suddenly a winter chill swept through, snowflakes raging down from every direction. The weather malfunctioned and I was sitting in the eye of the storm. A faint brimstone smell was carried away by the winds and replaced with the smell of fruit. Hmm...strawberries?

A female shape materialized beside me and I nearly threw myself off the cube in surprise. I figured she was one more of Mercury's assassins, so I prepared myself for a fight. Instead, this pink streaked, raven haired beauty stood over me armed with only a charming smile.

"Hey cutie. I just thought you could use some rescuing. Wanna come back to my place?"

I did a sweep of the snowy scene and saw that the ladies were about to make their move. I glanced up at my saving grace and nodded frantically.

My stomach lurched and I found myself suddenly sitting on a couch in a living room. The strawberry girl had her legs draped over me. Somehow we were dressed in pajamas and were watching tv.

She looked over at me and said, "Hey sweetness." Her smile was wide and as genuine as they come.

"Where am I?"

"At my apartment in Brooklyn, silly."