#the immediate shift into hitter mode

[ghostlyarchaeologist]

Eliot protecting his crew.

Leverage S02E09 The Lost Heir Job.

[sixthsensewulf]

I want to talk about The Last Stand-ard. . The whole 1 and half episode fight. Yes it was amazing to see 6 comedians attempt a math puzzle.

You think about it in cinematic mode for a split second. The whole fight is nuts. The Bad Kids protecting each other and the Steward. Setting up in the various areas that they could get the most out of it. Exploring the area before the test actually starts. I love how pretty much each bad kid takes a Gate.

The bad kids have been in a situation like this before. . They know how to get the best out of a bad situation. . They know how to hit hard and hit fast. The longer an opponent is alive, the harder it's going to be.

Straight away the wave is thinned out before anyone has a chance to breath pretty much, the boys of the group doing what they do best. Taking out the big hitters of the group. The girls thinning out the smaller creatures.

Then come the questions. Either all of them are yelling out to each other while fighting. .or using the telepathy bond spell that Adaine places on them. .it's conversation in their heads. They still talk out loud especially when Riz shoots the monster near Gorgug from behind the barbarian.

The essay and the math question. I feel like there was a lot of talking. . The smooth throw from Fabian to Riz with the handwriting. All of them had a hand in the words for this essay. The math question with Gorgug... Riz and Adaine helped Gorgug telepathically. But it was Gorgug who answered it. . While fighting the purple worm.

If there was a moment to catch their breaths. .it was between the waves. . But only briefly. They didn't let their panic show from the Rope type monster before Adaine cast Scatter. Or when the Purple worm was trying to eat their barbarian...

The Bad Kids know each other very well at this point... They know how they are going to act in battle. . So they provide aid in the best way possible.

The way they knew their Barbarian needed to let out steam, and just let him be with a side of the arena. But Riz and Adaine being the friends that they are, provided some damage for Gorgug. The whole soloing the purple worm, that was all Gorgug with a little help from Adaine.

Adaine knowing Fig was struggling believing in herself. . Gave Fig a target to hit. Told her that she believes in Fig. That Fig has this, that Fig didn't make the wrong choice. To believe in herself and her friends.

Kristen still feels like something will go wrong, uses the eye of the vulture king to clock Kipperlilly aiming at the Steward... Kristen and KLCK make eye contract and the Rat Grinders rogue kills her cleric in front of the Bad Kids's Cleric. Kristen must have been in a full blown panic mode. Buddy didn't deserve to die like that. But she has no diamonds, Buddy has no diamonds. . .the Rogue stole them all. . If any of her friends die. . They are fucked... She can't bring them back. .

The Bad Kids would know that Kristen is possibly spiralling .. they finish the Last Stand-ard as quickly as they can. . At least the Steward saw that the cleric was on stand-by drop. The gang lived. But Buddy is dead. . .Kristen and Riz talking about how the Rat Grinders. . Killed their own Cleric.

Gorgug immediately gets started on setting up a camera from a couple of phones that broadcast the body.

Adaine and Kristen talking to the Steward. The whole gang immediately talking about the safety of the Steward. Yes they are the first group to ever clear the exam without someone in their party dying. But the Rat Grinders are the only thing on their mind. Well the safety of the Steward. . And what to do about TRG and Buddy...

Them plane shifting to Bastion City for the sake of protection. . then taking the train back home. . Including going over the file of Kipperlilly.

Like honestly. . Think of Jawbone. . He knows his kids are doing the exam. (All of them are his kids. .the same way all the kids are Sandra Lynn's kids...)

Jawbone was the one who suggested it. . He was the one that saw 5 of the bad kids posted up outside the Cleric teacher office... He suggested the Last Standard. They all jumped at it, he knew that they would. He agreed that Kristen failing the Cleric class had no grounds at all. He would be waiting for them near the school. . Oh they got the train back from Bastian City? What do you mean they got the train back from the city.

Honestly I wouldn't be surprised if all of them crashed at Morded Manor that evening or Sea Caster Manor. Instead of going home. Riz and Gorgug messaging their parent(s) that they are staying over with the bad kids. The parents understand, it's their adventuring party. They are so close with either other.

[daddynews247]

Worries Still Regard Shreyas Iyer’s Short Ball Issues

Shreyas Iyer might find it challenging to completely alter his approach at the age of over thirty, given his established muscle memory.

Shreyas Iyer arrived for an optional training session and immediately strolled outside the Newlands Stadium for throwdowns, just before the start of the second Test in Cape Town. Along with batting instructor Vikram Rathour, the two throwdown gurus Nuwan Senaviratne, a southpaw side-armer, and Raghavendra were putting on a show from eighteen yards away.

The intention was to prepare the showy Mumbaikar for short balls, which have plagued him in all forms of cricket since his debut. A few minutes into the workout, he launched one mean, short throwdown from eighteen yards into the body, which kicked up from length. The reduced distance traveled meant that there were more than 150 clicks.

The patch of flesh between his upper and lower abdomen was struck by the bat because it did not descend quickly enough.

He was groaning in pain and flung his bat. He remained in a squat, struggling to breathe, until the physiotherapist and other staff members arrived to see how he was doing.

The problem was not only technical but also psychological because Iyer didn’t appear at all at ease, but the Kolkata Knight Riders captain had no rivals because there wasn’t a good middle order reserve hitter in the lineup.

After six knockout games in SENA countries so far, his scores were as follows: 15 and 19 in Birmingham, 31 and 6 in Centurion, and 0 and 4 not out in Cape Town. It is currently less than 40 on his test average, down from around 50.

Iyer can undoubtedly be considered a master against spinners, and he should have no trouble confronting Chris Woakes or James Anderson to deliveries that are below knee roll.

However, when December 2024–25 rolls around on Australian tracks, Iyer’s problems will undoubtedly get worse if he doesn’t make a drastic technical shift in his game with appropriate head balance and perhaps a cheekier stance.

However, he is almost thirty years old and has developed muscle memory, so it might be challenging to turn his game around.

When a bouncer was bowled at Mohinder Amarnath’s right shoulder in the 1982–1983 season, he would take it on the body and hook it imperiously with his left shoulder. This was part of his slightly chest-on stance.

Iyer will have to blaze his own trail, but that’s easier said than done.

Iyer is a player whose main method of play is with his hands; his footwork is not very noticeable. He therefore consistently plays from the back foot, even on deliveries where he should be on the front foot, on bouncey tracks because he is mentally prepared for a short ball.

His feet are freezing because he believes he will only ever be given small balls to eat.

“My role is to instill trust in them. Regarding Iyer, Shubman Gill, and Yashasvi Jaiswal—three of the greatest batsmen in Indian history—who found it difficult to deal with bounce, skipper Rohit Sharma remarked, “KL, Rohit, and Kohli, we have all learned from travelling.”

“They’ll discover what to do and don’t do. The situation is not the same in India. India is a very difficult country as well. In India, we have also witnessed similar wickets. Moving forward, it will also be difficult.

These kinds of situations are what you need to learn from. You gain confidence when you perform well in these circumstances, Rohit remarked.

Still, there are many who disagree. Former Indian batter Sanjay Manjrekar stated in a conversation with ESPNcricinfo that he is “not so sure” about Iyer but believes Gill and Jaiswal will find out by the time the Australia tour arrives.

Iyer recently took exception at being questioned about his problems with short ball.

“What do you mean?” He had retorted that he believed it to be a fabricated perception.

Now that he’s in denial mode, Iyer could only be able to change his direction once he acknowledges that he has technical problems when playing short ball.

[catradoramma]

how about a fic of Adora noticing being the jealous one after noticing other women give Catra attention.

i have been getting prompts like this since Mine, and honestly, hell yea. i deadass started working on this in 2019 and well. its finally finished. this is who i am folks. thanks so much to @kittens-and-foxes, @magicchalkdust, and lunatica (ao3) for the prompts! prompts are still open! i’m just a slave to writers block. evidently

Oh, How the Turntables

|  Rated: T  |  Words: 2,604  |  Chapter: 1/1  |

Adora was not a jealous person. She was confident with where she was in her life and always had been. Trying her best and being proud of that was something that was basically sewn into her DNA.

Adora was not jealous. Never had been, and never would be.

She wasn’t jealous.

She was just…a little upset.

Or how Adora handles being jealous. A significantly less fun sequel to Mine. 

| ao3 | buy me a kofi |

Adora was not a jealous person. She was confident with where she was in her life and always had been. Trying her best and being proud of that was something that was basically sewn into her DNA.

Adora was not jealous. Never had been, and never would be.

She wasn’t jealous.

She was just…a little upset.

It wasn’t really that big of a deal. Honestly it wasn’t a big deal at all. In fact it wasn’t even a deal at all. Catra was just making friends. Which Adora, for the record, was extremely happy about.

Catra was making friends with some of the people in the Royal Guard at Bright Moon and it was awesome! People were accepting her! And, like, treating her with respect like she obviously deserves as a literal war hero! So naturally, Adora was happy to hear this. Adora was enthused!

Obviously, okay?

It’s just that Catra had recently become closer with a few of her friends in the Royal Guard which meant they were out all day training and running drills, and then out all night getting drinks and singing bar shanties or whatever soldiers did together. Adora was so glad that Catra was fitting in and being accepted. That goes without saying.

But.

Adora also really, really, really missed her girlfriend.

Like.

Adora missed her a lot.

As simple as that.

Although, it didn’t help that one of Catra’s new friends was the totally smart, pretty and badass Captain Kassandra. And it also didn’t help that Captain Kassandra was definitely Catra’s best friend in the guard which meant Catra and Captain Kassandra were spending the majority of their days together.

Alone.

And it’s not like Adora thought anything would happen! Catra would never cheat, okay? She wouldn’t! She just might...you know. Realize that Captain Kassandra was so, so much better, and smarter, and stronger, and prettier, and cooler than Adora.

And Catra might want to break up.

Which Adora definitely didn’t want.

— . —

“Hey, Catra?” Adora called as she was pulling her hair up into a ponytail.

“Yeah?” Catra called from the closet where she was trying to decide between two identical burgundy sports bras.

“I was, uh,” Adora paused as she grabbed her hair tie with her teeth off her wrist. “I was thinking that it might be fun if we went out tonight? Go into town and grab dinner or something? Have a little date?” She asked with a tentative smile as she finished tying off her hair.

Catra turned to face her properly, lowering both sports bras. “Tonight?” She asked, not sounding excited like Adora had thought she’d be.

The lack of enthusiasm made Adora a little nervous. She licked her lips and continued. “Yeah. We’ve both been really busy lately, and I finally have a night off from--you know--She-Ra stuff. So I was, you know, just wondering if we could, I don’t know. Go on a date,” Adora bumbled, her nerves getting to her the longer she went without an answer.

“Shit, tonight?” Catra asked, her shoulders slumping alongside Adora’s heart. “I can’t. I have a game tonight.”

“Wait, you have a what tonight?” Adora asked, immediately confused.

“Oh, yeah. Sorry, I meant to tell you. Me and the Guard started up a Softball team. Bright Moon Royal Guard against Entrapta’s Robot Army,” Catra explained, a little smile curling up her lips which Adora knew meant that Catra had really been enjoying playing Softball.

Adora was, admittedly, a little hurt by the fact that Catra hadn’t even thought to tell her about this. Adora was always super supportive of everything Catra did and would have loved the opportunity to cheer her on in a very literal and vocal way.

But, Adora supposed, she had been really busy with She-Ra stuff lately so it made sense that Catra forgot to mention things. Especially when they really only saw each other at dinner and when they got in and out of bed everyday.  

Adora pushed down her hurt feelings and pressed on. “Alright, well. When’s the game? I’ll come and maybe we could grab a bite or something after,” she suggested.

Catra winced. “After games, C.K. usually buys everyone a burger,” Catra explained. C.K. So we’re calling Captain Kassandra C.K. now. Adora suddenly craved physical violence.

Catra continued, not noticing Adora’s mounting frustration. “It’s like--I don’t know--a team bonding thing,” Catra explained with a shrug. “You could come to the game though! I’ll hit a homer for you,” she added, sending Adora a deliciously wicked grin that Adora couldn’t even enjoy due to the slowly mounting rage within her.

Adora took a deep breath, suppressing the anger for the time being, and forced a smile. “That sounds awesome, babe. I’ll….be there for the game then.”

Catra grinned at that and darted over to press a kiss to Adora’s cheek. “I’ll look for you in the stands,” she said, practically glowing with happiness, and just like that, all of Adora’s rage and jealousy melted away. This was something Catra enjoyed. Having friends and maintaining them was important to Catra. So it was important to Adora.

Adora turned and stole a proper kiss from Catra. “Leave your alternate jersey for me and I’ll wear it,” she suggested with a soft smile.

Catra nodded eagerly before she disappeared back into the closet. She came back out wearing one of Adora’s white and blue sports bras, and, honestly, that made everything a little better.

— . —

Adora had no idea how Softball worked, but Gods, was she becoming a fan quickly. Everything from the tight white pants Catra wore, to the slashed up cap she wore to let her ears through was doing things for Adora. Adora was pretty sure she was actually learning less about Softball the longer she spent in the stands. Probably because she was happily staring at Catra’s ass instead of the game.

The whole experience probably would have been a net positive if it wasn’t for what happened at the very end of the game. Catra must’ve hit a particularly impressive ball (Adora wasn't exactly paying attention to the ball or where it was going as much as she was focusing on where the hitter was going and doing) because as she dashed around the diamond, everyone around her was cheering and freaking out. The Bright Mood Guard left the make-shift dugout and ran onto the pitch. They swarmed Catra as she passed home. They all wrapped her in a hug before Captain Kassandra tossed her up into the air and then sat Catra on her shoulder.

Jealousy burned inside of Adora. That was Adora’s move! Adora was absolutely the only one allowed to toss Catra into the air and catch her on her shoulder! Why the hell was someone else doing that?! Was this a common thing? Did Captain Kassandra toss Catra all the time?

Adora was about three seconds away from going full-on beast mode on the Captain. The only thing that stopped her was the way Catra pulled her cap off in celebration, waving it excitedly in Adora’s direction. The elation on Catra’s face—the pure joy that was clear from whatever game-winning hit she’d made—was entirely enough to cool Adora’s temper.

Catra looked radiant out there. And she deserved to be praised like that. She deserved to be celebrated and loved by her friends. Adora wanted that for Catra so badly, and if it wasn’t for the ugly jealous monster that was living rent free inside of her for whatever reason, Adora was sure she’d 100% be just as happy as Catra was in that moment.

So, with her mind made up, Adora grinned and waved back. She cupped her hands around her mouth and cheered loudly. She made a heart with her hands and held it up above her head for Catra to see. Catra must’ve seen it because she blushed a little darker and bit her lip in a way that made Adora’s blood burn in a very different way.

If only Adora wouldn’t have to go home alone after the game.

— . —

Adora decided to wait up for Catra. She wanted to show Catra exactly how proud of her game-winning home-run she was. Adora lit candles around their room while she waited, and even changed into some of the more frilly underwear she owned for nights exactly like this. She kept Catra’s jersey on, though, and made herself comfortable in bed to wait.

And wait.

And wait.

Adora waited long after the sun went down behind the back hills, long after the candles burned down to nubs, and long after the lacey bra she wore became too uncomfortable to continue wearing. Adora didn’t want to admit defeat, but eventually the mood was lost, and she could barely keep her eyes open.

It was with a new level of bitterness, and a little heartbreak, that Adora cleaned up the candles, slipped into pyjamas, and put Catra’s jersey away. This time when Adora curled up into bed, she didn’t wait. She closed her eyes and fell asleep.

If the smell of candle smoke was still in the air when Catra got back, then so what.

— . —

Adora felt very off for the rest of that week. She hadn’t even heard Catra come in that night, and when she woke up, Catra was curled up into a ball on her own side of the bed. Something about not even waking up in Catra’s arms left a sour taste in her mouth.

Adora knew, logically, that Catra hadn’t made her any promises to come back early that night. She had said that she’d be out with the team, and Adora had agreed to that. It was just that...after a game like that, the first one Adora had gone to, shouldn’t Catra have wanted to come home and celebrate with Adora? Shouldn’t she have at least come back at a decent hour? Catra had only said that she’d be getting dinner with her team. Did getting burgers really take that long?

What else had Catra been doing out there?

That thought alone was enough to leave Adora in a horrible mood for the rest of the week.

She destroyed many straw filled dummies, and snapped at anyone who so much as thought about asking her what was wrong, including Catra.

Especially Catra.

Adora hadn’t been in this bad of a mood since the war--since the time she hadn’t slept for weeks at a time.

And the worst part? Adora knew she was being unreasonable. She knew she was being dramatic and was definitely blowing things out of proportion. It was just that—

The jealous little monster that lived in her mind rent free was slowly taking over.

— . —

Adora was lounging in the bath, trying to make herself feel better though aggressive self-care, when she heard Catra come in. It was already late into the evening. Adora would usually be in bed this time of night, and Adora was beginning to think (unreasonably) that Catra was coming back late on purpose.

“Adora?” Catra called as she noticed the bed was empty. She sounded a little afraid and suddenly Adora was just tired. And sad. And frustrated. She was so, so frustrated with herself and this stupid situation. She didn’t want to be upset at Catra anymore.

“In here!” Adore called back as she moved her hands a little anxiously through the bubbles still floating on the surface.

Catra appeared in the doorway and smiled tentatively. She looked concerned and tired.

“Hey,” Adora said softly.

“Hey,” Catra repeated, her voice just as soft.

“How was your night?” Adora asked. “I missed you at dinner.”

Catra’s shoulders dropped a little and she nodded. She stepped into the bathroom and sat down on the floor right next to the tub, her knees pulled up to her chest as she looked at Adora. Catra looked small like that. Small and afraid.

“Missed you too,” Catra said back, her voice just above a whisper.

Adora bit her lip a little anxiously and had to look away. She couldn’t look at Catra knowing she was the one who made her feel uncertain like this. But...wasn’t it because Adora herself felt uncertain that this whole thing had happened?

Adora pulled in a deep breath and forced herself to look back at Catra. “I’m sorry I’ve been...rough this week,” she said.

Catra leaned her head onto the side of the tub. “Are you gonna tell me what I did?” Catra asked, her voice soft and non-judgemental.

“Catra you didn’t...do anything,” Adora said. “And...well. That’s the problem. I feel like we never see each other anymore. I feel like we don’t talk.”

Catra straightened up, her shoulders coming up in a defensive stance. It was clear she was afraid of what else was coming from this conversation. Adora reached out and placed her hand on top of one of Catra’s knee.

“I just really miss you Catra. All the time, even when I wake up next to you,” Adora admitted.

“I’m sorry,” Catra said immediately, her ears pressing back flat onto her head. “I…”

“Hey, no, I should have said something—” Adora said but Catra cut her off, her eyes wide in realization.

“Oh my gods,” Catra breathed. “You did say something. You wanted—and I totally just brushed you off to hang out with the Guard. Adora—” Catra spoke frantically, and it was Adora who cut her off this time.

“Catra, hey, no,” Adora said as she moved closer. “No, you didn’t brush me off. You just. You’ve never had a really solid group of friends before. Of course you got caught up. I like that you have these people who like you and want to hang out with you. I’ve been so busy lately and I’ve been so thankful that you’ve found these people to keep you company when I can’t,” Adora said honestly.

“It’s just that...I’m not used to having to share your attention. And it’s...it’s making me feel a little insecure—which I hate. I don’t want to be jealous of your friends. I don’t want to keep you away from them,” she admitted, looking at her hands now, ashamed of how she was feeling.

Catra reached out and threaded their fingers. “Adora…” she breathed softly as she squeezed Adora’s hand. “You should have said something, dummy,” she said affectionately, reaching out with her free hand to smooth Adora’s hair back and turn her face up.

“I’ve only been spending so much time with those idiots because I’ve been wanting to give you space to relax,” Catra admitted. “I thought that having me around, wanting your attention after you’d had to listen to people bitch and complain all day would just cause you more stress.” She leaned forward some more to press a kiss to Adora’s lips softly. “I’ve been missing you too, Adora.”

Adora let out a sigh of relief, and then a sound that was halfway between a laugh and a sob. She shot forward and wrapped her arms around Catra in a hug, holding her tight. “You’re sure you’re not unhappy with me? You wouldn’t rather be with C.K.?” Adora asked, finally voicing her deepest concerns.

“What?” Catra asked softly as she held Adora tighter, seemingly undisturbed by the fact that she was getting soaked by the bath. “Adora, Captain Kass is married. To a man. And besides that, I don’t want anyone but you. You make me happier than anything.”

Adora let out another sigh of relief. “Oh, I’m so glad,” she breathed as she pressed her face into Catra’s neck.

— . —

That little jealous monster was finally evicted.

[fizzingwizard]

Ok well! Episode 5 was a huge improvement! This genuinely felt like Digimon, at least early Digimon anyway. It was fun and action-y, and not completely devoid of character moments. The heart of this episode was Koushirou and that is SO EXCITING. I have crossed all my fingers, toes, and even my eyes that Koushirou will continue to be muy importante, just as much as heavy hitters like Taichi and Yamato are. None of this “backseat crunching numbers” nonsense!

I was disappointed last ep that we didn’t get to see the actual first meeting of Koushirou and Tentomon, but I suppose it probably went something like this:

Tentomon: Koushirou-han! I’ve waited for you!

Koushirou: A digimon! I must analyze your data!

Tentomon: Analyze my...? *blush* At least buy me dinner first!

more under the cut...

Well we also get Plotty McPlot stuff right off the bat. Remember the old series where we knew nothing about anything till like right before the first big boss battle?? They ain’t beating around the bush this time. Not sure how I feel about that - as I’ve said before, I loved the “where are we! guess we have to rely on our own incompetence!” concept of Digimon Adventure that siphoned off some of the blatant “this is an RPG” aspect. We don’t have that too much this time around - Taichi is REALLy goal-oriented and seems to even have magic powers?? as in he can read digi-code. My guess is they ALL can, courtesy of their digivices (and maybe I’ve already forgotten if Koushirou or Yamato already did this earlier?). How convenient for the plot that there’s no trouble reading secret messages at all!

^Also appreciated that this literally meant feel the words. As in, touch them.

So Taichi and Sora have had no difficulties finding this special shrine and learning the lore of the digital world. There was a Great War that shifted the balance of light and dark. We are right back in RPG territory.

We see a bunch of familiar faces. I’m not sure if this is the same makeup as previous ancient guardians in other seasons, but it’s got the essential theme at least.

And then some even more familiar silhouettes:

Now who could that be xD Mega evolutions for all confirmed!

So I don’t know if this is supposed to mean Agumon & co are literally reborn versions of these great warriors, but I think that’s what Agumon and Piyomon suddenly bursting into tears while wailing that they don’t know why they’re crying is supposed to be hinting at.

Taichi: I warned not to touch your eyes after chopping onions!

Agumon does not remember being Omegamon or jogressing with Gabumon, but Taichi remembers it. As usual, the children are an essential ingredient to transcending even evolution. The internet is the path that connects the two worlds and is the reason why the human world can be affected by what happens in the digital world if it bleeds through.

Yep, it’s Digimon Adventure. Nothing has changed

^Not even trying to be subtle xD So my current theory is we probably won’t see Takeru or Hikari as full time players until mid-season. I’m kind of hoping the kids find out they can talk to Seraphimon and Ophanimon and specifically go to meet them, only to find out they’re babies now and need constant looking after and don’t know anything helpful at all bahahaha

And here’s another familiar face err loin cloth! Although we already knew he was coming! I love Ogremon. And I find it it not-coincidental that his first real appearance precedes a Mimi episode.

Tentomon and Koushirou have restored my faith in the bonds between children and Digimon in this show.

... Yep, it’s goddamn Digimon Adventure and nothing NOTHING!! at all has changed xD

So I had thought this was DemiDevimon. I think it’s clearly meant to harken back to him but it’s too cool. Soundbirdmon. Not sure how sentient it is. Creepy lil thing. Hikari would still give it a 10/10 would hug

Capped this because I love Piymon protectiveness <3 (Sora’s there too ofc)

The kind of tech Koushirou carries around puts CSI to shame.

So he’s been in the digital world (well, the network) for like an hour and he’s already trying to get himself killed. Protectiveness masquerading as cold pragmatism. Koushirooooou. You should have some sense of self-preservation. He clearly needs Tentomon - Taichi would need a brick to the head before he’d understand this kid is not being logical here, he is in total panic mode.

Tentomonnn. I can always count on you <3

... aaand he immediately drops him x’D Tentomonnnnnnn

oh well it’s the thought that counts!! lol

Thus ends Izumi Koushirou. His voice actor peaced out. “Too many lines, too many kanji, also I don’t like not having wrists.”

This is the face he makes when he realizes “holy hell, I think I might be having an Emotion.”

first Taichi, now Tentomon... Koushirou’s going to be so buried in praise trust and friendship that he won’t be able to see his way out. Like one of those foam pits at the gymnastics center. You cannot escape and you don’t want to

I’m in hell

Okay seriously what is this. WHAT IS THIS.

^see what I mean? no wrists!

One Track Mind Yagami reminds us that we did Plot in this ep...

... only to then recall that after that, we did Koushirou stuff, which is vastly superior. I mean look how happy he is.

Taichi: Darling Koushirou!! You’re okay!

Koushirou: Yes, thanks to Kabuterimon!

Taichi: I’m so glad! Wait, Kabuterimon? ARE YOU CHEATING ON ME!?!?

Koushirou: *making bad connection noises with his mouth* g-gotta go..!

Koushirou is ready to admit he loves his partner a lot faster than old Adventure Koushirou was...

... or maybe not.

GAWD WHY ARE U SO CUTE

I love their little back and forth here. “You were talking about me!” “N-No I wasn’t!” “Yes you were!” “Was not!” Please keep giving us this quality content Toei. Tsundere Koushirou. I never thought of it. I WANT MOOOORE.

Interesting how he didn’t quite do this to Taichi though. Maybe because Taichi’s compliments were about how talented and awesome he is, whereas Tentomon’s just like “I love you bruh youre my best bruh.” Taichi, get over yourself and tell Koushirou you love him before he leaves you for a literal bug.

Welp.

So this turnip/radish village is just about the cutest thing I’ve ever seen. And I loved the silence of this ending bit. This really did feel like Digimon, a bit more creative and intriguing than anything in episode 4. (Except for Sora and that knife.) This gives me Hope.

But it is WEIRD seeing Mimi get the “mysterious girl” treatment. Hahaha. You’d expect to discover she’s like the lost princess of the digital world. Well, she is. But she’s also going to scream whine cry and make you eat kimchi fried rice with whipped cream and strawberries xD

Mimi!!! I can’t wait to see you!!!

[ckret2]

re: your last answer about megastar (it's really cool!) - what are, for you, the most interesting things that Starscream finds objectionable about Megatron's leadership? i mean, one could headcanon SS as a totally delusional and self-serving power-grabber, or alternatively, say that Megatron has become a tyrant drunk on power and destruction - but, to me, smth more complex would be more engaging? for SS to have some valid points but also be wrong about some other things maybe?

I put this in my drafts and forgot about it for a couple of weeks lmao.

It depends on the continuity! Like, if we’re taking straight G1 cartoon, then I think Starscream’s only genuine objection to how the Decepticons are being led is that it’s not being done by him. Any criticism he levels at Megatron, no matter how accurate—and some are accurate—has to be read with the understanding that Starscream is only bothering to voice it because he thinks he should be in charge and wants to undermine Megatron. I think the same can be said of TFA Starscream too.

Other interpretations of Starscream have more nuance, and in them I think you can read more complex motivations/different reasons for criticizing Megatron. And in those, the dynamic I like best is that they’re equally good leaders, but in different fields. The dynamic I like best, and I think it can most easily be seen in TFP and in IDW: Megatron is a better general, and Starscream is a better politician.

Which is why Starscream always loses. As long as they’re at war, their dynamic will always be biased in Megatron’s favor. In a one-on-one fight, Megatron will always be able to defeat Starscream; and when their successes at leading the Decepticons are compared, Megatron will always pull ahead because Megatron is better at directing soldiers.

You can see this very well in All Hail Megatron. Megatron leads the Decepticons to a stunning victory over the Autobots. The main force on Earth crippled and banished to dying Cybertron, Optimus nearly killed, the Matrix stolen, every major Autobot base in the galaxy attacked at once; Starscream assisted with the ruse that let them attack Optimus’s force, but you really get the sense that this is Megatron’s victory. But Starscream is quick to point out that, once they’ve won, all the Decepticons are doing is replaying that victory—piddling around on Earth crushing human forces that really don’t offer any competition—and that soon the troops are going to get bored and ask for something more.

And he has a point. The Decepticons have had a military victory so massive that the war could very nearly have been called in their favor right then and there, but Megatron doesn’t know how to move forward, to transfer that momentum from a military victory into a political victory. He can’t consolidate power and leadership. He has to keep playing out the military side because that’s what he knows how to do.

Starscream, shrewd politician, not only sees that and calls out Megatron on it, he also demonstrates that he’s thinking about that future political victory, and he immediately takes action—like a politician would—to consolidate power for himself. He rallies nearly every heavy-hitter on Earth behind him to confront Megatron and try to seize power from him. And he does it by making bargains, offers, alliances, and arguments—whereas Megatron pretty much exclusively gets his troops in line under him through shows of physical dominance, beating them back in line under him (a la Spotlight: Megatron).

Starscream may well have seized power from Megatron at that point, if not for the return of the Autobots. And that swung the conflict back from politics into the military, Megatron’s forte. Starscream backs down, lets Megatron resume leadership, and Megatron acknowledges that someday—when they need political leadership, not military leadership—Megatron will go down and Starscream will rise up.

That’s indeed what happens. The second the war’s over, Megatron’s influence has waned. His last-ditch effort to conquer Cybertron his way—through force—is thwarted in one night, and in the very same night Starscream conquers Cybertron with a single assassination and a couple of campaign promises. Megatron himself marvels at how swiftly Starscream achieves exactly what Megatron set out to do, and he didn’t have to fight a war to do it.

Starscream himself certainly demonstrates a far greater aptitude for politics than for military leadership. Compare his depressed brooding while he wore the Matrix and led the Decepticons after AHM to his leadership in RID and TAAO. Even though he’s plagued by an array of insecurities and self-doubts in both cases, when he’s leading an army he’s paralyzed by the weight of the decisions he has to make, retreats to space, and spirals into a depressive funk while his soldiers cannibalize each other for fuel. When he’s leading a planet, he pushes through his self-doubts and constantly moves forward and upward, and leaves Cybertron in a far better position than he found it in.

We see glimpses of this potential in TFP, as well, although only obliquely. At the start of the series, Starscream’s been in charge of the Decepticons for several years, and what’s he been doing? Mining. His primary concern has been with gathering resources and maintaining stability, not with conquest and battle—and the Decepticons moved no closer to winning the war, but they did thrive, in their own way, under Starscream’s leadership. They even managed to kill one (1) whole Autobot, which, may I point out, is more Autobots than Megatron managed to kill in TFP. A concern for fuel/food and general stability seems to me much more like the focus of a peacetime leader than like a general, but it’s where Starscream’s strengths lie.

When Megatron comes back, shifts the Decepticons from defensive to offensive mode, then immediately goes comatose and leaves Starscream in charge again, Starscream repeatedly flounders in his efforts to earn any major Decepticon victories. (To be fair, Megatron’s victories never seem to stick either—but even at that, he does a better job at fighting than Starscream, both as a single combatant and as a military leader.) When Starscream does succeed, it’s generally through a combination of bargaining alliances, trading information and favors, and solo stealth operations that don’t rely on combat.

So: that’s how I read the dynamic between Megatron and Starscream when it’s at its best. Megatron as the master of military leadership, and Starscream as the master of political leadership—and both liable to falter and fail when they take their skills in their own realm and attempt to apply them to the other’s realm. In such a dynamic, when Starscream objects to Megatron, it’s coming from a place of looking at his actions like a politician and feeling like they’re flawed. In cases where Starscream’s thinking “this is fine in the short-term but when the war’s over—which could be soon—Megatron’s methods will alienate people, lead to anarchy, and/or leave us with nothing left worth ruling” those criticisms may be valid; whereas if his objection is purely to Megatron’s battle tactics, the odds are good that Megatron’s got a better idea of what it’ll take to win this particular fight than Starscream would, especially if Starscream is too caught up in the subtle power dynamics between the leaders and major players to play proper attention to the getting the right soldiers with the right weapons from point A to point B where they can mow down the Autobots.

[tinkeringwithcannabis]

The First 90 Minutes Episode 45

Strain: GG4

Company: Sira Naturals

Location: Somerville, Ma

Cannabis Connoisseur: Jackie

Website: www.siranaturals.org

Hello again to all my cannabis loving and cannabis-curious friends, and welcome back to another episode of The First 90 Minutes! Today we will be toking and talking about a badass little flower called GG4, a.k.a- Original Glue, which I picked up from my friend Jackie over at Sira Naturals in Somerville, Ma. This bud is said to be a heavy hitter, so keep this in mind when trying this out. With THC levels of 22.4%, this earthy, pungent, and sour smelling strain has been found to make its user feel giggly, creative, euphoric, relaxed, and energetic. I will be using this strain today to help combat depression, agitation due to stress, severe anxiety, and fatigue. This strain is also recommended for those seeking relief from spasticity, inflammation, and headaches. The potential negatives associated with this product are anxiety, headache, paranoia, dry eye, and dizziness. Now that we have run through the background portion of our product, let’s jump ahead to the testing portion! So, without further ado, let’s light up, sit back, and relax, as we toke and talk about the first 90 minutes!

Starting this medication session off with two hits from my OG Chillum glass piece at 10:20 a.m., I can taste the earthiness of this strain along with hints of pine. By 10:22 am, I am feeling the relaxation begin to set in. My body seems to be relaxing slightly, and my mind is becoming a little less frazzled. Although I do feel like a cloud is beginning to encompass my mind and body, I do not feel as though this is affecting my focus yet. At 10:30 am, I am feeling a strong sense of calm come over me in addition to a shift in my mood toward a more positive and happier place. I can feel the anxiety continue to subside as my physical and mental stress melt away, and my body is sinking more deeply into relaxation mode. I still seem to have a clear mindset and decent focus, and I am feeling the slight twinges of a creative boost starting to creep its way in.

As we hit 10:40 am, the creative boost I was feeling has continued to rise. I am completely engulfed in a writing project, and everything just seems to be flowing perfectly. The anxiety I was feeling has completely subsided, and the stress I was feeling has mostly dissipated. Although I am still having the occasional stressful ruminating thought, the intensity of the thoughts has died down with the frequency. I do feel somewhat cloudy-brained, so I personally would not choose to do anything that could be hazardous if I was not fully able to pay attention. With the increased sense of bodily relaxation combined with the cerebral fog, my reaction times are slower, as are my situation processing times. I am not couch locked, but I can see how higher doses for those who are more experienced, or even one hit for rookies could lead to a couchlock scenario. In either case, I would recommend keeping your favorite snack on hand in the event that you feel the munchies start to set in, as I am experiencing now. I am not experiencing any negatives as of yet.

At 11:20 am, I feel that the effects are slightly shifting, as I am beginning to experience a little bit of anxiety. The bodily relaxation I was experiencing is slightly fading and I’m becoming a little more rigid and tense. I am starting to feel a bit nauseous, and my mood is beginning to drop down a bit. Although this sensation is present, it is not overwhelming, and after four minutes I seem to be able to talk myself down to a more neutral and relaxed place. At 11:25 am the tension is once again fully releasing from my body, returning it to the relaxed state it had previously been in. The heightened thoughts and increased anxiety are rapidly easing as well.

Rounding the corner to the 90-minute mark at 11:50 am, the effects are leveling out, leaving me feeling balanced, relaxed, calm, and uplifted. I have continued to experience slight anxiety breakthroughs, but to clarify, I do not believe these anxiety-related incidents are as much negatives related to the strain, as it is the emotional response that accompanies my thoughts around a certain situation I am dealing with. My head continues to be clear, and my thought process is organized, and has not returned to a scatterbrained situation. The mental fog has lifted, and the intense relaxation is no more, but I do feel more of an “easy going” sense. The effects continued until about 12:07 pm, leaving me feeling clear and relaxed at the end of the session.

I was concerned about the breakthrough anxiety and I wanted to see if this would still be the case with a higher dosage. I consumed one half of a joint, and although I found myself on complete couchlock, I did not find any breakthrough anxiety. What I did find was a pretty strong case of dry mouth and some dry eye, but that was about it. I was not able to function at the higher dose, and I was not making much sense, but it was great as a nightcap and heading off to bed immediately following my medication session.

Ultimately, I did find relief from my anxiety, depression, and agitation, as well as my fatigue in the initial testing, despite the breakthrough anxiety incident, which eventually calmed down. At the higher dose, I found relief from my anxiety, depression, and agitation, but I was knocked out cold within 30 minutes, after being hit hard by a sense of couchlock before falling asleep. During the higher dose testing, I also was using this product to combat some spasticity from my essential tremors, which flares up when I have severe stress and anxiety. I found this to be an extremely effective strain for this purpose, decreasing the tremors within 15 minutes and stopping them within 30 minutes, along with combating stress, insomnia, and depression.

The physical relaxation properties are amazing, and really do give your body Jell-O-like feeling, especially when the couchlock feeling kicks in. My mood lifted during both the initial test and the high dose test, and my stress levels dropped significantly, allowing me to relax both mentally and physically. At the higher dose, GG4 gave me the best night’s sleep that I have had in a really long time. Overall, I give this product 4.6 stars ⭐️, as it was very effective, but the negatives really seemed to affect my ability to get the most out of my medication sessions. Despite the negatives, I do think this is a great product, and I would consider using this again, especially as a mood booster, to control my tremors, and a relaxation and sleep-aid. Great work Sira, keep it up!

If you are a patient or adult above the age of 21 in Massachusetts, Sira’s GG4 flower is sold at the following dispensary locations:

Sira Naturals:

Cambridge- Medical only

Somerville- Medical only

Needham- Medical & by appointment only

Well my friends, we have reached the end of this review. Thank you for joining me and stay tuned for more product reviews!!

Disclaimer

*****Please remember, this blog is an account of my personal experience with this product. Not everyone has the same experience with every product, and that’s okay. I always recommend starting out with one to two hits to see if that is enough, and you can always increase your dose from there. *****

Also, if you find this post helpful, please help me get the word out to other patients by liking and re-blogging this post! Thanks!

[theladyragnell]

Leverage OT3, 18

(Waking up with amnesia, and all things being what they are, this one is kind of dark. Warnings for head trauma, potential permanent brain injury, etc.)

Hardisonknows something is wrong as soon as Eliot wakes up. He did his bestpatching him up, because he knows how Eliot feels about hospitals,but he's not actually a qualified nurse, and he sees how bleary Eliotis, but also how he sees Hardison and Parker hovering around andimmediately goes into defense mode.

“Who'sholding me?” he growls, and shit, it's bad, it is really bad,because he's giving them that special Eliotyou're-an-obstacle-I-have-to-go-through look, and Hardison hasn'tseen that look from him in probably five years, not seriously.

“Whoa,man.” Hardison puts his hands up and darts a glance at Parker,who's frozen where she stands, face so blank he can't tell what shewants to do. Shit. “You don't recognize us?”

“You'renot getting any information, and my boss isn't going to pay ransom,but he's going to send people like me and worse—”

Moreau.Whenever he is in his head, Moreau still owns him, and Hardisonclenches his fists because he still feels, on his worse nights, likewhat they did to Moreau wasn't bad enough. He gives Parker a helplesslook, and she speaks up. “You can't remember it right now, butyou're safe. It's at least six years later than you think it is.We're your crew. Are you going to feel better if you're unconsciousso we can't interrogate you?”

“I'mnot letting you do anything to me,” Eliot snarls, but he's alreadyfading, ready to go to sleep again.

“Okay.We'll talk when you wake up again,” says Hardison, and Eliot reallymust be hurting, because he doesn't even try to get out of bed topunch them until they tell him where he is and who they are. Anotherfive minutes and he's out cold again, and Hardison knows people withconcussions aren't supposed to sleep, but he has no idea what to dowith Eliot when he's awake if he doesn't know or trust them.

“Whatdo we do?” says Parker, and only now is she letting him see howrattled she is.

They'vebeen rolling the dice with Eliot for way too long, letting him puthimself in front of them again and again and again, and he takes hitsto the head. He takes a lot of them. They've been rolling the dice,and amnesia is really, really bad, but at least he's alive, didn'thave an aneurysm or something. “We call Nate and Sophie if he wakesup again and it's still bad. We look into treatments for amnesia andfind a really discreet neurosurgeon to check on him. But even if thiscan be fixed, we need to change things. Hitters don't usually stay inthe field as long as he has, and we need a plan to get him outwithout him bitching at us.”

“Theonly way to do that might be retiring,” she points out.

“Forhim?” He points at the bed. “I'd do it.”

Aftera long minute of silence, staring at the bed, Parker nods.

*

Eliotwakes up eleven hours later, when Parker and Hardison have beenswitching off shifts sleeping so they can make sure he wakes upagain, even if he wakes up with years knocked out of his head.Hardison panicked and calledSophie halfway through, and now he has a neurosurgeon's numberburning in his pocket, waiting for him to call.

Thistime, though, Eliot wakes up looking bleary but he doesn'timmediately look like he wants to attack them. “How long was Iout?” he asks, and Eliot really should not sound that casual aboutbeing unconscious again.

“Awhile,” says Parker, coming out of her doze immediately andcrowding into Eliot's space to check his pupils and his wound. Hedoesn't punch her, which is a good sign. “What year is it? Who'sthe president?” She swallows. “Who are we?”

Eliotsighs and looks past her to Hardison. “I thought I was having adream. Being held on a job I did for Moreau. I wasn't dreaming?”

“Yougave us a scare, man.” And, because Parker's going to be lessgentle about it than he is, he says it. Maybe he'll have to repeathimself later, if Eliot's brain still isn't back to where they needit, but he needs to say it. “And we need to talk about what we cando so this doesn't happen again.”

Hecan just about see Eliot getting ready to have a snit about themcoddling him and how much longer he could safely stay in the field,but maybe he gets that he scared them, because after a second, herelaxes. “Yeah. Not while I'm still concussed, but we can talkabout it.”

“Okay,man, that's all we're asking. Now, do you want to hear how we pulledoff the rest of the job now that you're not doing your best SleepingBeauty impression?”

Eliotrolls his eyes and then winces like that hurts him, but that's asgood as permission from Eliot, so Hardison sits down on the otherside of him from Parker and starts embellishing the story just tolisten to him bitch about it. All three of them are rattled—way tooclose a call for any of their comfort—but they're going to be okay.They're going to have to change things, but they're good at that,adapting to change the jobs when they need to.

They'regoing to be just fine.

[asfeedin]

Google Pixel Buds 2 Review: New Design, Better Sound

Google Pixel Buds 2 review-in-progress: New design, better sound

“Google’s newest Pixel Buds pack a big boost in audio quality.”

Streamlined setup

Attractive look

Excellent voice integration

Useful features

Average battery life

No noise cancellation technology

This is a review-in-progress. We’ll update this review after spending a few more days with Google’s new Pixel Buds.

It was only a matter of time before Google brought its first real contender into the arena of true wireless earbuds. Honestly, I’m surprised it took this long.

Google released its second-generation Pixel Buds today, a $179 pair of earbuds that scraps the wire that tethered together the originals, and adds new design elements and tons of features. While I haven’t had enough time with the Pixel Buds for a full review, I have listened long enough to have some thoughts.

Out of the Box

The packaging for the Pixel Buds — which are technically the Pixel Buds 2, but I’ll use Google’s official name for them throughout this review — is tiny, white, and adorned with different images of the buds themselves. Inside are the buds, resting inside a wireless charging case, as well as extra eartips, a USB-C charging cable, and the appropriate documentation.

Nick Woodard/Digital Trends

Normally, I unpack everything, check out the product briefly, then take a glance at the quick start guide to see if there are any set-up quirks to adhere to. But with the Pixel Buds, I never opened the booklet.

As I was pulling the first bud out of the case, a notification appeared on my Pixel 2 smartphone prompting me to pair with the buds. A second prompt followed, instructing me to download the accompanying app, and the rest of the set-up process was set in motion from there.

That’s all thanks to Google’s Fast Pair on Android feature, allowing you to immediately pair your Pixel or Android 6.0+ device with the earbuds. I’ll be the first to admit that most earbud setups are relatively easy, but this was as simple and streamlined as it gets, and more in line with how Apple’s AirPods work.

The original buds, which were $20 cheaper at their initial release, had their fair share of connectivity issues. It’s a small sample size, but I have not experienced any such snags in my time using the new Pixel Buds, which are outfitted with Bluetooth 5 technology.

Design

The Pixel Buds are not the smallest earbuds in the game (at 5.3 grams, they outweigh the Apple AirPods by over a gram each), but they aren’t the heaviest, either — both the Samsung Galaxy Buds+ and Amazon Echo Buds weigh more. They’re right in the wheelhouse, which is all we can ask of most earbuds these days.

Nick Woodard/Digital Trends

It’s the Pixel Buds’ actual design, however, that has me the most intrigued. The original Pixel Buds, from our perspective, were loose-fitting and though they never fell out, they did not create the seal in your ear canal that’s important for noise isolation. Google listened, and created a pair that sits nearly flush with your ears, providing a much more secure feel. I managed to fit in a five-mile run in my first few hours with the buds, and had no problems with them shifting in transit.

The Pixel Buds will only be available in their cutely named Clearly White color at launch, but will follow that with Almost Black, Quite Mint, and Oh So Orange options. The charging case more closely resembles an egg than the pill-shaped carriers Samsung and others have adopted. It’s also heavier than every case except the Echo Buds, but still pocket friendly.

Features

At first look, the Pixel Buds’ set of features remind me of a classic power hitter in baseball. They’re going to hit some doubles and homers if you can tolerate a whiff here and there.

Nick Woodard/Digital Trends

Double: An IPX4 weatherproof rating, giving them protection against splashes and sweat. You will not want to submerge them, but the Pixel Buds should be plenty workout proof.

Homerun: The Pixel Buds are the first Google Assistant hotword-enabled earbuds, meaning all you have to do is say “Hey Google,” or “OK Google” to have your own voice assistant at your service. This is not new in the industry, of course, with Amazon and Apple ahead of the curve in that regard. But Google has made it effortless to use, to the point where I preferred asking Google to change a track or turn the volume up over the built-in gesture commands on the bud. Those are simple enough to use, but there is something more appealing about controlling the buds hands-free.

Swing, and a miss: The Pixel Buds have five hours of battery life in a single charge. Which, to be fair, is on par with the Apple AirPods and Amazon Echo Buds. But five hours just isn’t much anymore, not when the Samsung Galaxy Buds+ set the benchmark with 11 hours of playback time. With the included charging case, which is QI-certified and can wirelessly charge on any compatible charger, the Pixel Buds have a respectable 24 hours of total battery life.

Double: The return of Google Translate, through either Conversation Mode with Google Assistant or the Google Translate app. The feature was a highlight of the first-generation Pixel Buds, and it remains a fun tool to translate the words you or others speak into different languages. It’s a perk that not everyone will utilize, but remains nice to call upon if needed. The same goes for the ability to ask Google directly how to get somewhere or get notifications read to you from essentially any app on your device. Not totally needed, but neat.

Struck out looking: Google opted against adding noise-cancellation technology into their second-generation buds, and I think that’s a missed opportunity. Sure, the fit is much better this time around, making passive noise reduction possible. And yes, Apple’s second-gen AirPods don’t carry that feature either, at $20 more. But the Amazon Echo Buds did it, and they retail for $50 less than the Pixel Buds. It’s not detrimental that the Pixel Buds don’t have noise cancellation, but if they really wanted to make a power move in the true wireless earbuds category, that would have been the way to do it.

Audio Quality

As I began listening to the Pixel Buds, I wanted to be sure of what I was hearing. So, I passed them to my partner, replayed the Brothers Osborne track I had just auditioned (Love the Lonely Out of You), and asked her for a description of the sound.

Nick Woodard/Digital Trends

She took the exact word I was thinking of — crisp. The Pixel Buds have custom 12mm dynamic speaker drivers and what Google describes as a “hybrid acoustic design” where the eartips aim to seal outside noise, but spatial vents reduce the “plugged-ear feeling.” The result is, ahem, music to your ears.

I’ll need a few more hours with these before I can justify comparing them to any of the top competitors I’ve been mentioning. And they’re definitely not on par with something like the Sennheiser Momentum Wireless 2, but then again, who is? All that aside, I can definitely say that the Pixel Buds have improved leaps and bounds from the sound of the first version, which was “just fine,” as we put it. The low end is present but not overbearing, the vocals are clear as day, and the mid-range is well-balanced.

Nick Woodard/Digital Trends

There’s no equalizer in the Pixel Buds app, but I likely wouldn’t use it even if there was. Songs like The Wood Brothers’ Luckiest Man were a treat, giving me the sense that I could hear the strings behind each individual note. Google also suggested listening to some 8D content on YouTube, where existing songs are re-produced to sound like they’re moving around the listener. It’s not music specific to the Pixel Buds, but it helps to have solid sounding buds recreate Freddie Mercury’s legendary vocals dancing back and forth across your head.

The few calls I’ve made were clear, with those on the other end of the conversation remarking that I sounded better than I had when trying out other buds. The Pixel Buds have a pair of beamforming microphones designed to focus on your voice, in order to be heard in louder conditions or when you’re on the move. It has been a limited experience so far, but so far so good.

I’d be remiss if I didn’t mention the Adaptive Sound feature in the Pixel Buds. The same way you can let your phone automatically adjust the brightness depending on the environment, Google gives you the option of letting the Pixel Buds adjust the volume based on where you are. It’s subtle, but it’s supposed to be, and I found it to work well when moving outside the house and on to a busier roadway.

Conclusion

The Pixel Buds are filled to the brim with features, though to access the best of them, you’ll need to be at least partially invested in the Google/Android ecosystem. They greatly improved the design and audio quality from the originals but equipped the newest version with just average battery life, and left out noise-canceling abilities.

I’ll revisit this review after more time with these buds. For now, Google’s Pixel Buds made some major adjustments, and because of that might just be the best Android-centric earbuds you can get right now. But they’ve left room to grow. In today’s fast-moving true wireless world, maybe too much room.

Editors’ Recommendations

Source link

Tags: 2, Buds, design, Google, Pixel, Review, Sound

from WordPress https://ift.tt/2Sg5iJP via IFTTT

[iamnotthedog]

MORRISON: FALL 1997 / YOSEMITE: JULY 21 – 25, 2001

One night when I was sixteen, I was up in my bedroom watching Pulp Fiction for about the twelfth time, and I was up to the second-to-last sequence—the seventh sequence, which is actually the third sequence if you were to put the whole thing in chronological order (which it most certainly is not).1 The seventh sequence is the sequence after Jules and Vincent have left the apartment where they got the briefcase and Jules quoted that long passage from Ezekiel 25:17, and they killed the two young men (Roger and Brett) and were talking to the third young man (Marvin) when an unknown fourth young man came charging into the room and unloaded a round but somehow managed to miss both of them. Jules was convinced that it was divine intervention. Then, in the seventh sequence, they are in the car with Marvin in the backseat, and they are arguing about the matter (“...this shit doesn’t just happen!” says Jules) when Vincent turns to get Marvin’s opinion on the whole thing and accidentally shoots him in the face. “Oh man, I shot Marvin in the face.” I was laughing out loud at that whole scene when Mom called up the stairs with a tone of voice that I hadn’t heard for years.

“Danny,” she called. “Danny, come downstairs. We need to talk to you about something.” I had just taken a hit from my little chrome one hitter, exhaling the smoke through a small cardboard toilet paper roll stuffed with dryer sheets and out the open window. A train rolled by outside, rattling by on the tracks just beyond our yard, headed west out over the Mississippi River, through the noxious river town of Clinton, and out into the cornfields of Iowa and beyond.2

“Be down in a minute!” I yelled over the racket.

I turned off Pulp Fiction and fished through the pockets of my flannel jacket for my Visine. I put drops into my eyes, then pushed through the blankets I had nailed up over my door, and walked out, through Adam’s room, scattered with action figures—my old G.I. Joes and muscle-bound He-Man figures, and also some new ones I didn’t recognize. In the tiny upstairs bathroom I changed my t-shirt, washed my hands, and splashed some water on my face. Then I walked back through Adam’s room and plodded downstairs.

The steep and narrow back stairway in that drafty old house dumped you out into the wood-floored dining room, with its flowery wallpaper, large table and chairs, a cheap glass chandelier hanging from the ceiling, and the chest of drawers that Mom called a “buffet,” which was always decorated with some doilies and decorative plates with strangely vague Biblical quotes on them. To your left were the kitchen and, beyond it, the backyard and freedom. To your right was the living room. I reluctantly turned right.

Don and Mom were seated on the floor in the lamplight, leaning back against the couch and facing the recliner in the corner. They never sat on the floor. This was serious. Like they were finally going to call me out for being high all the time. Or maybe one of the grandmas died.

Mom smiled warmly and motioned for me to sit in the recliner in the corner, then put her hand on Don’s leg and looked lovingly at him. The old man looked like he was about to squirm right out of his khakis.

“What’s this all about?” I asked.

“Danny, we love you so very much and we’re so proud of you,” Mom began.

“Jesus, Mom,” I said, chuckling nervously. I shifted in the recliner—folded my right leg and sat on it. Then she looked me dead in the eyes.

“I was in love with Don before I was divorced from Jack,” she said.

I looked right at Don, who was looking awkwardly, silently, at a spot on the carpet. And of all the things I could have said right then, I think I said: “Holy shit.”

But I don’t remember, really. I may have said something else entirely. Mom was going on nervously about how Don was my real father. About how I, and not Adam, was their first offspring. Like I hadn’t understood that immediately. I took it all in. Then, instead of asking a hundred questions like I should have, I started giving orders.3

“Well, everyone has to know,” I said. “We aren’t a family that keeps secrets from each other.”4

“Of course,” Mom said.

“Who does know?”

“No one.”

“No one?!”

“No.”

“Well, everyone needs to know.”

“We can call your brother and sister now. And we can call Jack.”

“Wait, DAD doesn’t even know?!”

“No.”

“He still thinks he’s my biological father?!”

“Yes.”

“But I’ve been calling him DAD for SIXTEEN YEARS!”

“We know, Danny. We know this is tough.”

“Jesus fucking CHRIST!”

“Alright now...”

“I’m sorry, but HOLY FUCKING SHIT!” I yelled. I laughed at my own awkwardness—at everything, really. I laughed quickly, nervously. Then I calmed myself. I took a few deep breaths and forced a smile. “You know I love you guys, but I’m probably not going to change my name. At least not for a while. I’ve been a Duffy my whole life.”

“We understand,” Mom said.

“Of course,” Don said. He cleared his throat.

“I’m also probably going to keep calling Jack ‘Dad’ and you ‘Don,’” I added. “You know, just out of habit.” Don and Mom smiled and nodded. Mom had tears in her eyes. Don just looked...I’m not really sure. But he looked up at me. And I could see it. I could see the similarities in our faces, in the way we carried ourselves. Even in the way that he was sitting there—his shoulders slightly slouched, his hands folded on his lap, his legs out in front of him, the right crossed over the left at the knees. His big, flat feet. His black socks that always had holes in them.

I would think of this very moment almost four years later, on Don’s fiftieth birthday, when Mom bought him a plane ticket to come out to Yosemite and visit me for a few days. That was right around the time that Marcus and I first got the job at Yosemite View Lodge in El Portal. I suppose I should have mentioned it earlier, when I was talking about that job, and Marcus, and Chloe and my desire to get that paycheck and get the hell out of there—but I wasn’t really thinking about it then, to be honest. So I’m going to tell you about it right now:

Mom had called the Yosemite View Lodge one day while I was at the front desk. Marcus answered, and I heard his voice change immediately into that sort of innocent and cute voice that people use when talking to their friends’ parents. Then he looked at me and got this shit-eating grin on his face and I just knew it was Mom on the other end.

“Give me the phone, asshole,” I had said.

Mom went into apologetic mode instantly, so I knew something was up.

“Danny, I’m so sorry I’m springing this on you now, but I’ve been trying to get a hold of you for so long! It’s hard, you being out there in the middle of nowhere. But the reason I’m calling is that your father’s birthday is in a couple of weeks...”

“I know, Mom,” I said. Mom was always reminding my siblings and I about birthdays, and it drove me crazy. She still reminds us today, which is hilarious, because we’re all grown adults who have somehow managed to miraculously learn how to use a goddamned calendar. “I was already planning on calling him.”

“Well, you’re not going to have to call him,” she said, “because I bought him a ticket to come out there and visit you!”

Now, this was obviously my mother trying to give my father an excellent fiftieth birthday gift while also—and most importantly—setting up a perfect setting for some serious father-son bonding. Don and I had thrown around a baseball maybe twice, and we shot hoops together a few times in those beautiful Illinois summer evenings, when Don had just walked home from the hardware store over the railroad tracks and through the neighbors’ back yards, and I was out in the driveway working on my free throws, because I really was a terrible free throw shooter.5 And we also had that one weekend when Mom was on some church retreat and we watched The Good, The Bad, and the Ugly and made big steaks for dinner two nights in a row. And I worked for him at Morrison Hardware for a while, but there was very little bonding time at the store. So I guess what I’m saying is that I’m not complaining—that’s some quality bonding right there. That’s more father-son bonding time than a lot of kids get in their weird little kid lives. But the fact was that I still called Don “Don,” and—though I knew he was a good man and a more than capable guardian who was great for Mom and our family—I had never really thought of him as my true blood father or treated him as such. And Mom knew that and was trying to change it. She was trying to put Don and his first-born son in a pristine setting and a situation where, even if we didn’t talk—as we rarely did—we would nevertheless have no choice but to share some serious “moments” together. Some real man moments. Like in the made-for-TV movies, or whatever.

So I obviously didn’t tell Mom that I wasn’t getting paid for another couple of weeks and that I was flat broke and hitchhiking to work every morning because my car had no gas. And I didn’t tell her that I had no place to live, and was either sleeping by the river, or in Chloe’s bed or on John’s floor every night. I didn’t tell her anything about being caught stealing and losing my job in the valley, or hitchhiking to San Francisco, or having visions on Mount Dana, or losing my mind about loving Chloe but wanting to leave everything and just wander the country alone forever. Instead of saying anything about any of that, I said, “Aw, Mom, that’s a great idea! I’ll get us a room here at the lodge.”

“Oh, that’d be just great!” she said, in her cheery and sentimental Mom way. Then she went on and on about all the details, and about how I’d have to pick him up at the airport in Merced, and I wrote some stuff down but I was really just thinking about how I was going to have to borrow money from Chloe to put gas in the Olds. Then I heard her say, “How’s Chloe?” and I snapped out of my little panic attack long enough to make up something about getting busy and having to go back to work and thank you so much for calling and I love you and this is going to be fun, etcetera, etcetera.

Two weeks later, on the afternoon of July 20, Don came to Yosemite. I picked him up in Merced and we drove east on the 140 through that rolling golden prairie that stretches from the valley to the foothills. I could have taken the 140 straight to El Portal and the Yosemite View Lodge and we would have been there in an hour. But I really wanted Don to see Yosemite Valley before sundown—and he really wanted to see it, as well—and I wanted so badly to take him past all the grand vistas offered by the southern entrance of the park that we ended up driving about an hour out of our way. So we shot northeast up the 140 into the foothills, then turned southeast on the 49, down through sleepy Oakhurst, and then straight north up Wawona Road and into the park.6

Because of our detour, we got into Yosemite Valley as the sun was setting. Don met John and Marcus and a bunch of other park employees, and he met sweet, sweet Chloe. Don loved the hell out of Chloe, who immediately opened up to him and started telling him about the hike we were all going to take together the following day. He looked at and talked to John and Marcus and everyone else like they were a bunch of circus freaks (which, admittedly, we all kind of were). Don, Chloe and I went to Yosemite Village for pizza and a few beers, then I drove Don out to Yosemite View Lodge where we checked in and passed out.

The following morning, we woke with the sunrise and drove through the freezing cold crystal blue alpine air back to Yosemite Valley, where we picked up Chloe, loaded up our packs with all of our camping gear, bought some coffee, then drove out of the valley up to the high country and Tuolumne Meadows. After a quick breakfast at the Tuolumne Meadows Lodge, we shouldered our packs and spent the rest of the day hiking to Vogelsang—a twelve-mile hike up the pristine and alien alpine landscape of Lyell Canyon. We all hiked apart from one another, with Chloe way out in front, Don in the middle, and myself taking up the rear, and Don had it pretty rough. He was enjoying the hell out of all the views and everything, but Chloe and I hadn’t accounted for the fact that he would need some time to adjust to the altitude, and he ended up being sick for most of the day. The trail barely climbs 200 feet in the first six miles and follows a stream with crystal clear water the whole way, and he was fine through all that, but then we reached the six mile junction, when the trail climbs 2,000 feet in a mere three miles. By the time we got to Vogelsang and set up the tent that evening, he looked like a dead man walking. Chloe and I fed him some potato soup and hummus with crackers, and he made some kind of comment about how we ate like squirrels, then threw up his dinner and was passed out in the tent we set up for him, face down in his sleeping bag, before sundown.

The next day, I started to see Don a bit differently than I ever had before. He woke up before Chloe and I, and when I rolled over in my dew-dampened sleeping bag and looked at him across the bright green alpine grass, sitting outside his tent on a rock, staring into the slowly brightening blue sky, he looked young and fresh-faced, even a little naïve, as he had probably looked some thirty years before. He also looked like a man alone. But he looked resolute in his loneliness. He looked like a man who had not had the pleasure of waking up alone in a long time, and was determined to enjoy that experience for all it was worth.

Chloe woke up shortly after I did, and we made some coffee on the camp stove and ate some granola for breakfast, then started the long hike back to Tuolumne Meadows. I hiked with Don the whole way, and we made some small talk, but mostly just walked in silence and enjoyed each other’s company. Don also took some pictures of me that he gave me later, and they are some of the best pictures that anyone has ever taken of me, even though in every single one of them I am walking away.

The following day we took it pretty easy and bummed around the valley for a while, then drove down to the Mariposa Grove of Giant Sequoias to walk among the trees. I told Don had to work the following two days—I really needed the money—and he was okay with it, but was so amped up about having made it to Vogelsang and back that he was determined to keep going—to do another big hike, and yet another one the following day, which would be his last full day in the park. Chloe had another day off and offered to take him up Half Dome the following day, so the two of them went for it and not only did it, but did it well—hiking all the way up, summiting the mountain with the hordes of other tourists, and hiking all the way back to the valley in the time it took me to work one eight hour shift at the lodge desk. We celebrated their feat with more pizza and beers, and then I took Don back out to the lodge for a much-needed soak in the hot tub and a good night’s sleep.

I figured that Don would take his final day in the park easy—maybe hang out with me at the lodge for a bit, then do some touristy things in Yosemite Valley—watch a movie in Yosemite Village, hike to the base of Lower Yosemite Falls, wander through the cemetery, watch a John Muir lookalike give a lecture in the Curry Village Amphitheater—but he was surprisingly up and gone before I even managed to get myself out of bed and over to the front desk to start work. He left me a note that he had taken the Olds into the valley to do another hike.

Eight hours later, my shift was done and Marcus and I walked up to the room to see if Don had returned and to ask him about his day, but he was still gone. Nothing about the room was any different from how I had left it that morning.

“I’m sure he’s on his way back,” I said.

Marcus’s answer was typical: “Well, come smoke a blunt with me, then.”

We walked down to the river behind the lodge and sat on the rocks to smoke while we watched the sky change colors with the sunset. Then Marcus went out to the highway to hitch a ride back to Yosemite Valley, and I went back up to the room and fell asleep on the bed in my work clothes.

I was awakened to the sound of the room’s door closing. It was dark, and I looked at the clock on the desk by the television. It was midnight, and there, standing before me, wide-eyed and delirious, was Don. He was covered in dirt up to his knees and had smears of dust across his sunburnt face, and his white polo shirt was stained with sweat.

“Where are you coming from?” I asked.

He threw down his keys and wallet, took of his belt, and tossed an empty water bottle into the garbage can in the corner. Then he sat on the bed with a grunt and began wrestling with his tennis shoes. “Weren’t you worried about me?” he asked. He pulled one of the shoes off and a cloud of dust went into the air. He waved at the cloud, then looked at me. “Did you call anyone? Ask anyone where I might have gone?”

Quite frankly, I hadn’t even thought about any of that. Not once.

“Nah,” I said, rubbing the sleep out of my eyes. “I knew you were okay. Where’d you go?”

Don then got his other shoe off and proceeded to tell me that he had driven that morning to the Tamarack Flat Campground on Highway 120 and had hiked up El Capitan—an extremely strenuous, 15-mile hike with a 2,000 foot change in elevation in a relatively short period of time. And the scary part was that he had taken a cue from Chloe from their hike the day before, and he had attempted a few shortcuts. Unlike Chloe, however, he didn’t really know where he was going and he got turned around several times. He ended up hacking through a lot of underbrush, and had the scars on his legs to prove it. He also didn’t set a non-negotiable turnaround time for himself—as anyone should always do when hiking alone in the wilderness —and he had ended up hiking down from the summit of the behemoth rock in the dark without any water, which he had failed to bring enough of. Had he not run into a friendly and highly-experienced couple of hikers on his way down from the summit, he said, he may have still been up there, dehydrated and wandering around in the dark.

As Don told me the story—terrifying as it was—his face slowly transformed from this amalgamation of frustration and weariness to the face of a man who had conquered his curiosity—a man who had faced his fears and won—a man who had really done something for the betterment of his self. By the time he got to the moment in his story where he realized he was at the trailhead, and where he saw the Olds and realized he was on his way back to civilization and his first-born son and he was alive and well, he was smiling—swelling with pride, and his eyes were the eyes of an ecstatic little boy. Eyes of joy and wonderment. The transformation, I believed, was complete.

Don had a shower and immediately fell asleep. I was to take him back to the airport the following morning, and that saddened me a bit—I regretted not taking more time off for us to be together. I thought about that while I sat there and watched him sleep. And the thing was, while I sat there watching him, I couldn’t see him for seeing myself. Or perhaps that isn’t how I should word it: I could only see he and I—I could only see us as one and the same—one person—one lost and lonely person trudging along from little victory to little victory, adding each obstacle overcome up to what we hope will be the summation of a life well spent. And I knew that this was quite possibly the only chance I would have in perhaps my entire lifetime to see my father that way—to see him as me while he was also lying so close to me—I could hear each of his gentle breaths—and he was so vulnerable, and so very alive, so captivating—radiating the wilderness from where he had so recently emerged—that I didn’t stop watching him sleep until I fell asleep myself. And what I was thinking of more than anything as I was watching him sleep was that night back in Morrison when he was sitting on the carpeted floor next to Mom, and I was in the recliner looking at him and the holes in his socks and being told that it was none other than he who was my true flesh and blood father.

After I told them that night that I was probably going to keep calling Jack “Dad” and Don “Don,” I managed a smile, and we all smiled, and I think Mom was crying, and we hugged, and then Mom and I started making phone calls. We called the grandmas and Jeni and Jim and Jack, and I mostly let Mom do the talking, but I listened in to all of the conversations on the upstairs phone. When Mom told Grandma Jevne—Don’s mom—the old bird said she had known all along, and had spent sixteen years waiting for them to tell her. When she told her mom, Grandma Donalds’ reaction was similar. She seemed to already know, and she was actually happy about the whole thing—like my being Mom and Don’s first-born added more weight to their love for one another, and solidified our family even more. When Mom talked to Jack Duffy, however, I couldn’t bear to listen, and I hung up the phone and sat on the floor next to it, my head in my hands, trying to think of anything but big ol’ Jack, leaning into the phone, his shoulders heaving as he cried somewhere up there in northern Wisconsin.

I still don’t know what was said between Mom and Jack that night, but all I said when Mom called up the stairs for me to get on the phone was “Dad, you’ll always be my dad,” or something vague and cheesy like that. Then he said, “I know, Danny,” and his voice cracked, and I hung up the phone again.

Jeni was next, and I was already pretty emotionally spent, so I only needed to hear her raise her voice once before I hung up the phone. Jeni was angry—and rightfully so—but I couldn’t deal with anger in the moment. I went back into my room and smoked another one hitter. Stared out the window at the train tracks.

Some thirty minutes later, Mom called up the stairs one last time. “Danny,” she said, “your brother’s on the phone.” I walked back through Adam’s room to the phone, which sat on a big leather trunk at the top of the front stairway—a trunk that Mom kept all our old baby shit in. I sat on the floor next to the trunk, and picked up the phone.

“Hey Jim.”

“Hey brother,” he said. “What the fuck is going on?” He laughed, but I could tell he had been crying. It was a laughter through tears—a laughter that sounded like he was trying not to start coughing, or maybe he really needed to clear his throat but wasn’t for whatever reason.

“I don’t really know,” I said.

“Well, you’ll always be my brother,” he said.

“I know.”

“You and Adam both,” he said. “and that’s all that matters.” Then we both sat in silent understanding, breathing into the phone together for a minute. And that was that.

 If you care about Pulp Fiction as deeply as I cared about it when I was sixteen, you’ll know that though the order of sequences in the film goes something like this: Diner Prologue > Prelude to Vincent Vega and Mia Wallace > Vincent Vega and Mia Wallace > Prelude to the Gold Watch > The Gold Watch > The Bonnie Situation > Diner Epilogue, the order of sequences if they were to be put in chronological order would be: Prelude to the Gold Watch > Prelude to Vincent Vega and Mia Wallace > The Bonnie Situation > Diner Prologue > Diner Epilogue > Vincent Vega and Mia Wallace >  The Gold Watch. If you didn’t know that for whatever reason, maybe go watch the movie again with that in mind. Like, right now. ↩︎

 As a child, I was fascinated by the smell of Clinton, Iowa. Whenever we drove through the town to go shop at Target or wherever, I would stare up at the smoke billowing from the factories on the southwest side of town, and I would pinch my nose and laugh and ask Mom what that horrible smell was. She never told me—she said she didn’t know—but I found out years later that the large factory on Beaver Channel Parkway, running parallel to the Lincoln Highway we would always be driving on, was actually a rendering plant. National By-Products, Inc. is a private company categorized under Animal and Marine Fats and Oils. That smell emanating from those smokestacks was actually burning animal tissue. ↩︎

 Because I failed to ask enough questions that day and every day thereafter for the rest of my time spent under that roof, it would be another ten years before I and my fellow siblings learned that Mom had been in love with Don from the moment she laid eyes on him. Her relationship with Jack had been on the rocks for a while when Don had joined their little group of friends—those five or six guys and two ladies who would always meet at the bar after their respective workdays, and who would come over to our house for dinner parties, or to play Trivial Pursuit on the weekends. Because of that disconnect with Jack, and because of her instantaneous connection with Don, Mom had started seeing Don very shortly after she had met him. They had slept together very shortly after that, and I had been conceived. This was why, after I was born, Mom had been taking me up to Don’s apartment above Morrison Hardware every Sunday after church. She was showing me off to my real father. ↩︎

 If I knew then what I know now about my extended family on my mother’s side, I would have never said such a silly thing. In regards to my mother’s side of the family, this statement is 100% false. In fact, I could have probably said, “Well, nearly every single one of your family members has at least one deep dark secret that they’ve been holding onto for their entire lives,” and that statement would have had a hell of a lot more truth to it. It would have been a little out of place in the context of the situation, but it would have had a hell of a lot more truth to it. ↩︎

 Most of my free throws were these high-arching, knuckle ball-looking things that would fall about a foot short of the hoop. I’m talking about not even hitting the rim, the net, nothing. Total airball. Or I’d chuck the thing in a straight line drive—with no arch, and again, no rotation at all—and it would bounce off the backboard and come straight back to me. A strange phenomenon, being that my jumper wasn’t really all that bad. I think it had something to do with the pressure of the moment—standing on that line in the middle of that court with all those eyes staring at me. I was a really self-conscious kid most of the time. ↩︎

 Though all entrances to the park are beautiful—the eastern entrance over Tioga Pass being the most stunning, if only for the extremity of its landscape—it is a great experience to take newcomers into the park up Wawona Road because of what is known as the Tunnel View. About twenty miles or so into the park, you have a sense of the landscape around you becoming more extreme, but you can’t really see it because of the dense forest in the way. You can only see the faint outline of the pine-covered slopes beyond the trees looking less like rolling hills and more like mountains. Then there is a clearing—a rocky slope to your left and nothing but sky to your right, and you see for the first time that you are indeed, some thousand feet above everything over there (“everything” being an absolute sea of pine). Around a wide turn, you see your first few massive rock formations off to the left. Then, off to the left in the distance, the immense pine sea builds to a head, then drops away to a sheer granite cliff which falls drastically, straight down into a valley. The cliff is El Capitan—the world’s largest granite monolith, at 3,000 feet in height. And behind El Capitan, facing you through the diffuse azure glow of the valley, the stunning Half Dome. Then you go through a tunnel that takes you straight through the mountain you’ve been traversing, and when you come out the other side you are punched in the face with a majestic, full-on view of El Capitan to the left, Yosemite Valley before you (with Half Dome in the distance), and, off the the right, Bridalveil Falls pours off the granite that folds back behind the waterfall into three stunning peaks known as Cathedral Rocks, and all of it looks unreal, like an oil painting—like you could get out of your car and touch it. ↩︎