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dameronology · 4 years

Text

the one where he doesn’t listen (poe x reader)

summary: poe dameron + ‘i think we should take a break’ ‘you’re right - we’ll get some food, cool down and then we can talk about this’ no, i mean a break from us’

warnings: language

i PROMISE i am working on some fluff, i know literally everything i’m writing at the moment is angst but like 80% of my requests are for angst...and i just hope u guys are okay lol love u

enjoy,

- jazz

‘Would you just listen to me?!’

You ignored the calls of your boyfriend, violently kicking open the door to the air hangar. You stormed inside, a scowl on your face - you didn’t notice Jessika and Snap jump back at the sight of you. You breezed through the base, boots thumping into the concrete floors, steps like thunder. You couldn’t even look at Poe - you might throttle him otherwise.

You usually embraced his rebelliousness. His courage was one of the many things you loved about him - but this was your mission. You were the commander. It was a different story when he was ignoring your orders. The whole operation had been blown up because he couldn’t listen for once in his life.

‘Baby, please-’

You stopped in your tracks, and Poe crashed into your back with a grunt. You turned to face him, and for a split second, he held out his arms. The action, however, was quickly retracted when you jabbed your finger into his chest. He silently thanked whichever god was up there that looks couldn’t kill - if they could, yours would have been a weapon of mass destruction.

‘The one time I need you to listen!’ You snapped. ‘The one fucking time, Poe!’

‘I said I was sorry-’

‘- sorry doesn’t get me my mission back!’ You continued, cutting him off. ‘Sorry doesn’t change the fact you ignored me. Sorry doesn’t change the fact you went against my direct orders!’

There was a little bit more to it than his disobedience. You weren’t a superior behind a comms link, barking orders at him. You were his partner - the one person you’d hoped would be the exception to his insubordination. That was what was causing most of the fuel behind your rage.

Poe bit his lip, nodding. ‘I’ll make it up to you.’

‘How?’ You snorted. ‘You find a time machine and go back and unfuck this up for me?’

He grimaced, hopelessly scrambling to find something - anything - to say that could possibly calm you down. ‘I’ll explain it to Leia. I’ll take the fall.’

‘That was gonna be the case anyways.’ You murmured.

Poe reached out to grab your hand, but you swatted it away.

‘Don’t.’ You shook your head. ‘Look, I’m gonna go to my quarters and get the mission report done. I need time to think - and maybe a wall to punch.’

‘Wait,’ His mouth dropped open, and that was when the magnitude of his actions finally seemed to click. ‘This isn’t gonna change anything is it, for us?’

You knew the us that Poe was referring to - and he didn’t mean your professional relationship. He meant the us, us. The us that had sneaky kisses and escapades in broom closets. The us that laid together at night in each other’s arms, discussing everything from from work that day to theories about the deepest, darkest galaxies. The us that might have been the only stable thing in Poe Dameron’s unpredictable life.

‘I don’t know.’ You sighed. ‘I just need time to think.’

You paused, the volume of the situation beginning to cause the descend down a slippery slope of misery and rage.

How could he do this to you? You knew that the flyboy was capable of some exceptionally dumb things, but this one took the crown. This was the grand finale that completed The Chronicles of Poe Dameron’s Dumbassery (patent pending).

Poe grabbed your arm, glancing around at your co-workers. Most of them had left the room when you entered - news of the mission had quickly spread about the base and people did not want to get in your way. Even Threepio had made a point to not go near you. Still, the pilot dragged you from the walkway and towards an empty space behind his X-Wing. The ship was splattered with dents and chips from the TIE fighters that had chased you out of the planet you’d been on. Perhaps that would be the epilogue in the aforementioned book.

‘Baby,’ his voice almost broke, desperate as he grabbed your face in his hands. ‘I would give anything to go back and undo what I did, literally anything, but I can’t-’

‘- I know you can’t.’ You moved his hands, momentarily intertwining your fingers. ‘It can just be so exhausting, Poe. I love you so much but you don’t think about the people around you.

You moved away from him, propping yourself up against the ladder of his jet. Your feet swayed back and forth for a moment as you thought. You were hurting- teetering on the edge of pure insanity, ping-ponging between your intense love for the man in front of you and your frustration at the situation.

‘I think we should take a break.’

You knew that you didn’t mean it. The second the words left your mouth, you wanted to swat them out the air, throw them to the ground like dead flies. Some childish part of you just wanted to scare him, to make him feel what you’d felt.

‘You’re right,’ Poe nodded. ‘We’ll get some food, cool down and then we can talk about this-’

‘- no, Poe.’ Your voice cracked slightly. ‘I mean a break from us.’

‘You’re breaking up with me?’

‘No, not a break up. Just a break.’ You stood up.

You saw the hurt on his face; the anguish, the torment. More than ever, you wanted to wrap your arms around him; to hug him, to run your hands through his stupidly soft hair and hold him and promise to hurt whoever it was that was causing his distress. But it was you. Was love always this much agony?

‘I gotta clear my head.’ You whispered, slipping by him as you walked away.

A few hours later, you were even more angry that you had been when this whole thing started. You were no longer just enraged at Poe - you were now pissed off with yourself. Why had you said that? Why had you let the heat of the situation push you over the edge and say such stupid things?

Three hours without Poe by your side felt like a lifetime - a long, sad, empty lifetime. You’d been sat on your bed, handing resting on the empty space where he should have been. You were still furious at him but that didn’t mean you wanted to be without him.

You let out a sigh, watching as BB-8 circled the floor in front of you. He’d followed you back from the hangar, beeping something about relaxation methods. But aside from that, he’d been pretty silent. You felt like he was a kid who’d seen his parents have a fight.

‘Where is Poe?’ You asked quietly, moving down to kneel in front of the droid, fixing his antenna. ‘In Finn’s room? I know right, where else?’

Grabbing the nearest jacket from your desk, you tugged it over your shoulders. As the heavy leather fell over your torso, you realised it with Poe’s - he’d lent it to you on your third date. It occasionally lead to a few awkward situations where you, Finn and Poe all turned up wearing matching jackets, given that the pilot had also gifted one to his friend.

You made your way to Finn’s quarters, BB-8 rolling behind you. He’d perked up a bit at the prospect of his parents you and Poe working it out. Nobody liked to see you guys fight. You knocked on the door twice - usually, you were close enough with Finn to walk in unannounced, but with the given circumstances, you didn’t want to just swan inside.

A few seconds later, the door opened, and he greeted you with a smile. ‘Y/N!’

‘Hey, Finn.’ You greeted him. BB-8 nudged past his leg, rolling inside without waiting for an invitation.

‘Poe’s inside.’ He said, stepping aside. ‘I’ll give you guys some space, but please don’t do anything in my bed.’

You rolled your eyes. ‘Finn.’

‘Just saying!’ He ruffled your hair as you walked by.

Poe was sat on Finn’s bed, a holopad in one hand and a cup of caff in the other. He’d clearly heard the exchange at the door and was trying to play it cool - something at which he was failing miserably.

‘Hey,’ you greeted him quietly. You gently took a seat on the bed next to him, pulling the holopad from his hands. ‘Wanna talk?’

‘Is there much to say?’ His voice was cold, and you almost did a double take.

‘Poe,’ you sighed. ‘I don’t want to break up, or go on a break, or whatever it was that I said.’

His brown eyes lit up slightly, and he finally turned to look at you. The last three hours had been equally painful for him - he thought he’d lost you. There was a lot of things that terrified him but there was nothing that scared him more than the idea of life without you by his side. He would have rather gone up against Kylo Ren with a pencil for a weapon than let go of you.

‘I got caught up in the heat of the moment,’ you continued. ‘You hurt me, and I think I was reaching for something that might make you feel the same.’

‘Well, you made me feeling something that was deep, dark and pretty terrible.’ Poe tried to joke, but he couldn’t hide the wavering in his voice. He reached to take your hands in his, and your heart broke when you realised they were shaking. ‘But that’s not a lot compared to what it feels like to lose a mission - especially because of me.’

‘I don’t care that we lost the mission. That happens all the time - it just hurts that you didn’t listen to me.’ You explained. ‘I guess I felt like you didn’t respect me.’

‘I do!’ Poe’s eyes widened. ‘I would...I would do anything for you. You know that, right? You tell me what you want me to do, and I’ll do it-’

‘- I just want you to listen to me.’ You cut him off. ‘That’s it.’

‘I can do that.’ A smile finally fell onto his lips. He pressed a kiss to your lips, and you felt yourself finally relax. You were going to be okay.

‘I’m still fucking furious at you, though.’ Your words didn’t quite match your actions; with one hand tangled in his hair and one resting on his face, you seemed to be more sweet than intimidating. ‘But I love you, and whatever this is, we’re gonna work through it.’

‘I love you too.’ He pulled you in for another kiss. ‘And I will never, ever do anything stupid again.’

‘I give it five minutes tops.’

#poe dameron x reader #poe dameron imagine #poe dameron x y/n #poe dameron x you #poe dameron fanfic #star wars imagine #star wars x reader #star wars fanfic #star wars preferences

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bellane-rosewood · 2 years

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No Choice

Pairing: Rio x Y/n

Summary: Your son and Rio’s son fight and Rio amends the situation.

Word Count: 1.7k

Summaries are not my forte but you get the gist. I’m rewatching Good Girls and every time Rio enters the scene I swoon😚

Also Happy Valentines Day❤

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“Mom! I’m fine, I don’t need any more sunscreen!”

Alec exclaimed, exasperated over your frantic rubbing of sunblock all over his face and arms. Once you had rubbed the last of it in you tugged on his favourite hat that mimicked the police, his dream was to be a detective like the ones in those 80’s cop shows he watched with his dad. The same prick who decided to stand up his son today.

You could see the heaviness in Alec’s eyes, he was excited to hang out with him today. Your gut twisted in guilt and anger, you wanted nothing more than to go to that man's house and throttle him until he turned blue. This was masked however in the form of a sweet and cheeky smile you gave to your son, sending him off to go play in the playground with a ‘be careful!’

You sat down on the wooden bench, letting your legs rest, you’ve been nonstop with work and school, the pick-ups and drop-offs and everything in between. Sighing to yourself, you noticed the other nosy, typical suburban moms with children in the same grade as your Alec peek over at you a couple times.

‘Please do not come over.’ You chanted in your head over and over, shoving your nose deep into the book you bring but never actually read properly. This strategy however did not ward them away and so you stood face to face with the fake smiles of Diane and Helen, women that made you want to scratch your eyes out.

“Y/n! Hi, we missed you at the last pta meeting, you missed out on my famous sugar free, choco cookies!” Diane's voice rang with too much cheer, and she just had to mention you missing the last pta. You knew the ladies in the neighbourhood talk and gossip and judge, that's all they did.

“Aha yes… such a shame, I just love those cookies.” You replied with as much enthusiasm as you could possibly muster, your attention drifting fast as the conversation progressed onwards to some school affair you could care less about. You wondered whether you could pull Alec away from the jungle gym and buy him some ice cream instead so you could get away from the chittering ladies. Although you have pulled that move more than once and soon enough ice cream just won’t cut it.

‘OW! Get off me!’

Alec’s voice filled your ears, you perked up, eyes on alert, all attention on the commotion happening on the playground. The women beside you gasp as they watch your son and another boy tumbling over one another, having it out near the swings.

You ran over immediately, snatching the boy off your son and inspecting the damage. Alec seemed fine, although you could tell he was going to bruise. Despite the concern you felt prideful, Alec didn’t cry and stood up for himself, he was definitely getting some well deserved ice cream.

“Marcus what happened? You okay?”

A smooth, rich voice called out from behind you making you turn to confront the parent of the kid that hurt your son. It shocked you. You're not one to label because you're hardly the perfect mother, but you weren't expecting to see a gorgeous gang banger crouched down inspecting his son.

This man exuded a cool confidence that made you want to shy away and when his dark eyes snapped to yours you felt your stomach flip in what could only be described as holyfuck.

He stood to his full height and stepped closer towards you, his eyes giving you a once over, deliberately dragging down the entirety of your body. You felt self conscious, wishing you had worn something a little more flattering. Not that you wanted his attention. No. Remember his kid hit your kid and you were angry. Yes. Angry. Anger. Fuck he is hot.

“Marcus said your kid hit him in the head, what, you don’t teach him respect?” his smooth controlled voice snapped you out of your shock and once you had registered his words the anger came naturally. Is he really lecturing you on how to parent your child?

“Yeah well he knocked my hat off! He had it coming!” Alec's voice shouted back at the man before clutching my leg when the man's gaze shifted from you to him. You went into mom mode as cliché as that sounds, seeing your son shy away made you rage at the man for intimidating him, intentional or not.

“I don’t think my kid is the one who needs a lesson in respect. It sounds to me that he was just sticking up for himself from your kid.” You emphasised the your and notioned towards him needing a lesson of respect, ignoring the growing weakness in your knees from the slight tilt of his head. He kept his eyes on you for a while, searching for any break in composure, you tried your best to hold your gaze and show strength that was barely there and finally he tore away and looked back at his son.

“This true little man?” He spoke calmly, raising an eyebrow to encourage his son's response, which was a little nod and shrug. He sighed a bit and told him that he shouldn’t touch other people's belongings and that he should apologise, which Marcus did. You gestured for Alec to apologise too and soon they shuffled back to the playground, leaving you alone with the handsome good dad.

You fidgeted with the ends of your shirt and got stuck on what to do and say next, your brain just blanked, what do people usually do in this situation? Still stuck and quite obviously nervous, Rio did another take of you and smirked. You were quite the little minx and he liked the sass and fire you showed when he questioned your parenting. So he decided to play around with you a bit seeing as there was nothing else to do and he was bored.

“What’s your name darling?” He spoke, his smirk and persona making you flush and you had no doubt your cheeks were becoming more and more red.

“Y/n. And yours?” you managed to croak out, your throat suddenly dry and in dire need for some water. Awaiting for his response which always seemed a little delayed made you more nervous. He thought about every word and never said anything without thinking it through twice.

“Rio. You got a tough kid there Y/n, Marcus knows how to throw a punch and your son handled it well.” He spoke lowly, confidently, the words rolled off his tongue and your name came off like honey.

You were stupidly giddy at his comment, you loved it when people complimented your son because it was almost like they were complimenting you. You were always so terrified that you were going to fuck up or be a bad mother so hearing props was so reassuring and comforting.

You smiled at him, hand placed on your cheek shielding him from the blush gracing your face and you returned the compliment, saying how Marcus is a good boy and that Alec has always wanted to be friends with him.

You fell naturally into conversation after that, it was nice, he was interesting and interested in you, nothing like the exclusive chats with the other moms at the park or at school. You made him chuckle at something you said, but you can’t even recall because you were enamoured with the deep noise that you just made come out of him. He looked so good when he smiled and you couldn’t help but wonder if he had a partner.

“So… Where’s Marcus’s Mom?” You asked, cringing at the obviousness of the question. Why couldn’t you be more smooth and think of a better way to find out whether he had a missus or not. You cursed yourself and felt his gaze more intensely as he went quiet, leant back on the wooden seat and smirked, moving his hand to rub at his stubble.

He wasn’t stupid, he knew the underlying intent of the question that was by no means innocent. He liked your attempt to find out whether he was single or not, it showed a lot about your character. You valued the sanctity of marriage, and would try your best to conceal your disappointment if he was. You were a good girl.

But he wasn’t married, and he wanted you to know that however he wanted to play with you more. You were fun to mess around with since everything he did elicited a genuine response from you, it made him wonder what responses he could wring from your body in bed. You were also easy to read and easy to be around. You had a comforting and warm presence.

He leant forward, closer towards your face and your body froze in response. You could smell him more intimately now, his scent was no longer overpowered by the freshly cut grass and the coffee from the pop up stall. No you could smell him so clearly, his cologne sharp and dusty, comforting and intoxicating.

“Why you wanna know mama?”

Your heart leaped into your throat, Oh no… what do I say, think THINK goddamnit. You currently loathed your daftness, how you wished for the smooth witty confidence this man seemed to have at large. He chuckled at your response, you were too fun to watch, like his own little play.

“Oh… just because I’ve never seen her around, that’s all” you lied, that was not the case at all and he knew that and you knew that he knew that. He shifted closer which seemed impossible seeing as he already was so close. He man spread some more too which usually would annoy you if any other had but it was him and his legs grazing against your clutched thighs made it hard to think of anything else.

“That’s a shame, I was thinking you were interested or something.” The words came easy to him and you gawked at his boldness and openness. Who the hell just says that. Thankfully your record breaking gobsmacked silence was interrupted by Alec and Marcus running towards the two of you and begging for a play date.

But before you could respond no, Rio had replied for the both of you, “Yeah that sounds good to me, get your stuff Marcus lets all get something to eat.” He continued to shock you through and through and there was nothing you could do to amend the situation. The boys had run off and Rio had once again dragged his gaze on you.

We sat in silence until the boys came running back,

“Let's go Ma.”

#rio #goodgirls #holyfuck #y/n #fanfiction #happy valentine's day

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joopiterjoon · 4 years

Text

Piece of Peace- MiniMoni

Pairing: Namjoon x Jimin

Genre: +18, Strangers/enemies-kind-of to lovers?

Warnings/Tags: Kittygang!Jimin, Professor!Namjoon, swearing, mentions of gangs and gang violence, stealing motorcycles, anal sex, sex on a motorcycle, exhibitionism (of course), FYI I don’t know much (anything) about motorcycles

Wordcount: 1k

a/n: this is technically part 3 of Boys Meets Evil and Burning Up, but you can read it by itself! Also this was FOREVER ago but thank you @honeymoonjin and @ddaenggtan for reviewing this and telling me if it’s kitty gang worthy!

Part of ficswithluv’s #FWLBingo!

Everything about the Harley dealership is new. The pristine floors, the smell, the design. Even the echoes of engines, obviously a repeated sound bouncing around the fancy space, sound unique each time. Everything the place contains within is shiny and desirable.

It’s exactly where Namjoon wants to be. Surrounded by newness, he’ll craft a new him. One that isn’t clumsy, isn’t known for being nerdy.

One that befits his new boyfriend, Jimin Park.

But with a shake of his glasses, Namjoon thinks he may need a new bank account.

“What do you think?” the ever eager salesman asks. Namjoon stands, straightening his secondhand, jean jacket as he eyes the (probably new) suit of the man.

“Ah, it’s… it’s nice,” Namjoon smiles shyly. He’s not sure what words he should be using. He googled motorcycle terminology, but all that escapes him now.

“Would you like to take it for a spin?” the salesman presses with a little shake of his hips. His balanced persona of friendly and pushy is a bit terrifying. Namjoon laughs nervously. He doesn’t know if he should get on something he can’t afford, it might just hurt more when he has to say no.

A hand slides around his waist under his jacket. Naturally, Namjoon eases into the touch despite the public display. He jostles into his boyfriend’s side. “What do you think, babe? Gonna hop on?”

“Ah,” Namjoon clears his throat. He looks down at Jimin whose head rests on his shoulder. He immediately regrets it. Behind the shades, Namjoon can see the lazy look in his eye. Namjoon tries to distract himself by looking lower, only to see Jimin’s tongue wet his plush lips, only to then glance even lower and see how far Jimin’s thin, white shirt is dipping down his chest. Jimin’s undeterred by the price tags that surround him. Hell, Jimin looks more expensive than the thousands of dollars of metal littered around the stage room.

Namjoon decides to focus on the salesman instead. “It’s a bit out of my price range.”

Jimin’s tinkling laugh sends a chill up Namjoon’s spine. He bites down his smile. He still can’t believe he can make such a man laugh. That from the shadows he managed to capture the attention of a man who constantly danced in the spotlight.

Jimin always laughed when Namjoon marveled at him. He apparently felt the same way. As a reckless boy from the streets, he doesn’t understand how someone with a masters would be captivated by him.

They fit each other, filled in the cracks of where they were lacking, the yin to yang, in more ways than one.

“He’s cute, isn’t he?” Jimin tells the salesclerk, pinching Namjoon’s cheek.

“Yes, Mr. Park,” the salesclerk chimes, tucking his hands behind his back with a small bow.

Namjoon’s jaw drops. He shoots Jimin a questioning gaze, but Jimin just shrugs.

“Are you serious?” He hisses, straightening his glasses. “What did you do?”

“What?” Jimin asks, lowering his glasses so Namjoon can see the faux-innocence in his eyes. It’s one of those looks that reminds him when to keep his mouth closed. “I’m just cashing in a favor… literally.”

Jimin gives his side a squeeze before walking over to the bike, his boots clacking on the floor. The salesman’s shoulders tense a bit as Jimin runs a finger along the back of the bike.

“Yes, thank you, Mr. Park.”

That. That’s why Namjoon wants a bike. Wants anything, anything that can put him on par with his boyfriend. No matter what Jimin says, Namjoon is still just a bookworm when it boils down to it. He knows Jimin’s much softer than he appears, too, but he wants that. Jimin’s ease, his natural ability to control a room and all that’s in it.

“I want to see what you look like on top,” Jimin winks. He leans over the back, head cocked, lightly shifting his hips towards the bike.

Namjoon’s brain short circuits at the insinuation. Unable to resist, he draws closer to the bike. His nervous hands tentatively stroke the handle, feeling the ridges of the rubber under his fingers.

“Please,” Namjoon folds his lips in, terrified he’d said that out loud. But he realizes it was the salesman, bowed with the key extended.

Jimin could make anyone beg.

When Namjoon takes the key, the salesman starts to wheel the bike towards the entrance. Jimin winds his arm back around Namjoon’s waist as they walk, rubbing circles into his back.

“You’re gonna look so hot, babe,” Jimin muses. He still watches Namjoon. Only him, nothing else in the store. None of the pretty toys, the other men, the passing cars. Whenever he’s with Namjoon, Jimin’s eyes are always on him. Namjoon shrinks under the attention, but he loves it.

Outside, Namjoon straddles the bike. He gives it a once over, trying to remember everything Jimin taught him. It’s different than his bike, but he can figure it out.

“Hot damn,” Jimin sighs. “You look like an 80’s heartthrob.”

Namjoon giggles. He appreciates that Jimin noticed he dressed for the part.Taking his glasses off and safely tucking them into his pocket, he pats it twice to make sure they won’t shake out.

“Oh my god,” Jimin giggles, tripping over to the bike. “Don’t. That was so cute.”

He comes round to the front of the bike. He puts his hands over Namjoon’s, straddling the front tire. Namjoon tries to sit straight under his boyfriend’s wandering gaze.

Jimin licks his lips again, fingers tightening over Joon’s as his other hand runs through his hot pink hair. His rings hurt a bit, but Namjoon would never tell Jimin to let go.

“This is a wet dream. I’m living a wet dream right now.”

Namjoon chokes. He should be saying the same thing. Jimin is about to buy him a motorcycle. Jimin is straddling said motorcycle, tight pants and loose shirt leaving little his imagination. Jimin is… Jimin.

“Wanna ride me?” Namjoon asks.

Jimin’s eyes darken, his lips parting a bit.

“W-WITH” Namjoon stutters. “Ride with? I meant do you want to-”

Jimin’s lips silence him. Soft, molding to his own. He brushes the stray strands of hair out of Namjoon’s face. He pulls back only to put the helmet on Namjoon’s head. Namjoon watches while Jimin pouts a bit, trying to find the strap under his chin.

Namjoon may be getting hard. Jimin pats the side of the helmet and all the thoughts in Namjoon’s head jumble.

“Let’s do both,” Jimin smiles. A large, boyish grin that lets Namjoon know he’s a goner.

“Wha-really?” Namjoon asks, trying to spin around as Jimin slings himself over the back of the bike. Namjoon yelps when Jimin’s hands accidentally dip a bit too low, grabbing at his crotch before drifting up to his waist.

“I’ll tell you where to go,” Jimin shouts. “Throttle it, baby.”

Namjoon nods, looking at the controls before him. He goes through the motions, missing how Jimin’s hands usually guide him. His favorite part about being with Jimin is he’s never in charge. Jimin watches over him, tells him what to do, what not to do, that he’s doing great. It’s such a contrast to Namjoon’s daily life where he’s constantly critiquing others and making decisions for his department. He craves Jimin even more after a long day.

And boy was today a long day. And he definitely, really craves Jimin when he nuzzles the plastic helmet into his back, all muscle pressed flush against him.

Namjoon never thought he’d like motorcycles. Until he met Jimin, he thought they were just accidents waiting to happen. But now, he sees the joy. Of course, it’s still incredibly dangerous, which is why Jimin directs him to the back roads. But the wind whipping by him feels like he’s flying. The loud roar of the motor cancels out all other thoughts. The metal horse beneath him answers to each of his movements.

And of course, he knows he looks fucking cool. Jimin’s friend Jungkook showed him photos of their nights together. Jimin was right, Namjoon looks hot on a bike.

Eventually, Namjoon figures out where they’re going. His heart rate picks up. There’s something different about driving Jimin to their spot, instead of him clinging to Jimin’s back as he guides them to the secluded spot.

He rounds the last corner up the hill, pausing before the road turns to dirt.

Jimin’s helmet knocks into his. Namjoon laughs. Jimin tried to tuck his chin over his shoulder as always, but the bulky helmets block him.

“Keep going!” Jimin shouts.

Namjoon rubs the handles nervously. “The bike will get dirty.”

He imagines Jimin’s eye roll, that accompanies his sassy, “Always such a good boy. Drive.”

Namjoon doesn’t need to be told twice. By now, he understands Jimin’s commands will always be obeyed, by will or force.

And he’s long from cursing how that makes his stomach stir with excitement.

The bike is harder to control offroad. Namjoon focuses hard. Each bump and shuffle reminds him how skilled Jimin and his friends are when they whip through the city streets, over curbs, and across sidewalks.

Jimin’s helmet is off before Namjoon’s brought the bike to a standstill at the top of the hill. The city lights are flickering on below them, but up here there’s nothing but trees. It reminds Namjoon of them. How Jimin sparkles and shines below, and Namjoon watches on from up here as a simple tree in a vast forest. It’s only a certain amount of time before Jimin consumes him, just like the city will someday reach this secluded space.

Jimin surprised him by not appreciating the implication that he would destroy the environment in some way. He’d wrestled Namjoon to the ground that day, demanding he creates a cuter metaphor before he declared it “their spot.”

But today, Jimin just jumps off the bike and jumps forward to twirl about a few times as he takes in the fresh air.

Namjoon stares on once his helmet’s off. The setting sun paints the sky a soft pink, the same as Jimin’s hair. His boyfriend looks so free out here, leather jacket filled with the breeze and his smile overtaking all his features.

Namjoon swings his leg over the bike and leans against it for support. He feels a bit like jelly, hands and legs still vibrating from the ride. Jimin continues to prance around, shouting and giggling and jumping. He is free, Namjoon reminds himself. And not even Namjoon can tame him. Everything about him oozes courage and unbridled happiness. Namjoon wants to be like that. He wants to set his own standard for happiness, just like he chooses to forge head off road.

“Joonie,” Jimin sings, running full-force at Namjoon. Namjoon braces against the attack, but Jimin just skids to a stop in front of him. He smiles up at him, a giggle shaking his shoulders.

“Mini,” Namjoon murmurs low. Jimin somehow smiles wider. Namjoon loves it. They don’t get it. The world. The way confessions and blockades all fade away for Jimin. For anyone with Jimin.

As though Jimin knows he’s considering fading, he grips the edges of Namjoon’s jean jacket and yanks him forward. Namjoon gasps, hands bracing on Jimin’s chest. He closes in, simultaneously trying to take in as much of Namjoon as he can. He noses at Namjoon’s jawline. He waits for a shudder to rock through Namjoon before he nips at his ear, giggling in response to Namjoon’s whine.

“So…” Jimin trails off. He pulls back so Namjoon can see the devilish mischief in his eyes.

“Yeah?” Namjoon breathes. He leans forward, focused on Jimin’s smirking lips, but Jimin tucks his chin. Namjoon whines in protest, which only makes Jimin throw his head back in laughter.

“I rode here with you,” Jimin teases. He presses a chaste kiss to Namjoon’s cheek.

“Did I do good?” Namjoon asks.

“Yes,” Jimin laughs again. Namjoon runs his palms over Jimin’s shoulders, under the jacket. To his surprise, Jimin drops his grip on the jacket, shrugging his own off his shoulders. Instead, he shoves his hips into Namjoon’s, the bike shaking a bit as Namjoon falls back into it. He reaches out to support himself in case the thing falls. Jimin’s hands fall over his own, caging him into the bike. He could care less if the bike falls over.

“What was your other question earlier?” Jimin teases. His eyes have that same lazy look like in the dealership. Namjoon’s cheeks warm.

“Did I do good?” Namjoon repeats. He gulps when Jimin leans a little closer, lips hovering before his own. He looks like an angel, soft features and pink hair framed by the twilight.

“To ride you,” Jimin corrects with a roll of his hips. He finally closes the space, only to kiss at the sensitive spot below his ear.

Okay, well, Namjoon did say looks like an angel. He’s well aware he’s far from it.

“Ah, that would be,” Namjoon clears his throat, sinking on to the seat to help his shaking legs. He reaches to adjust his glasses but forgets he isn’t wearing them. No mind, Jimin grabs his hand, kissing over his palm and wrist, watching him with syrupy sweet eyes. “That would be cool.”

“Cool,” Jimin giggles into his palm. He scrapes his teeth over his wrist. Namjoon whimpers. “You’re so cool these days, Joonie.”

“Stop teasing,” Namjoon whines.

Jimin’s eyes darken. He grabs Namjoon’s wrist and twists. With a yelp, Namjoon’s body involuntarily twists to avoid the impending pain. Jimin grabs his waist to have him turned flush against his hips as he kicks at Namjoon’s foot to have him straddled lower. His hand wanders to the button of Namjoon’s pants, easily undoing them. His tongue travels, slow, up the length of Namjoon’s neck.

“Okay,” Jimin murmurs into the shell of Namjoon’s ear. Namjoon tries to lace his fingers with Jimin’s over his zipper, but Jimin grabs his wrist. He guides Namjoon’s hands to rest on the handlebar and the back seat. “10 and 2, babe. I know how you like your rules.”

Namjoon nods. The bike is sturdy beneath his hands, unlike his mind that whirls in a hazy fog of Jimin. When he looks up, he’s reminded that they’re in the open, in their spot, the city down below just as capable of looking up.

Jimin’s undeterred, of course. After fixing the zipper, Jimin slips both his hands into Namjoon’s jeans, letting the push help Namjoon’s pants down his thighs as he smooths over the skin, rounding out to squeeze Namjoon’s ass.

“God, Joonie,” Jimin groans. “Fuck, there’s so much of you. Love it.”

Namjoon hums in response, eyes falling closed as Jimin’s hands wander over his skin. He can’t be nervous with Jimin here. Jimin’s invincible. He doesn’t care. And when Namjoon’s with him, he starts to feel the same, too.

“Should I-” Namjoon starts to take the jacket off, but Jimin wraps himself around him.

“Fuck no,” Jimin answers. When he’s sure Namjoon won’t move again, he gets back to work, kneading Namjoon’s ass cheeks, thumbs sneaking closer and closer. As his pinkies sweep lower, Namjoon jumps, then almost falls over the front of the bike. Jimin’s arm wraps around his waist to keep Namjoon from falling headfirst over the other side.

“This isn’t gonna work,” Jimin tuts.

Namjoon’s heart drops.

“What? No, please, please don’t, please fuck me, ride me, please,” he babbles. He turns quickly, a little panicked. He can’t bear when Jimin starts and leaves him hanging.

But when his gaze finally meets Jimin’s the man looks amused. He’s trying to bite back his smile. “Joonie, I meant the position.”

Namjoon’s blush deepens. Here he is, bent over (maybe?) his new bike begging his boyfriend to fuck him.

“Get on the bike backwards,” Jimin orders with a flip of his hand. He walks to the back of the bike, then straddles it til he’s in the seat like he’s about to go for a ride. He pats the rounded metal between the handlebars.“Come be my motorcycle, babe.”

Shit, how many times had Namjoon wished he was underneath Jimin, dreamed about being fucked on his bike? He almost trips trying to get out of his pants. Jimin offers his hand like a gentleman, helping Namjoon sit in front of him.

It’s not until he’s there, hands braced behind him on the extended handles, that he realizes how exposed he is. His pants are on the ground, his legs are tucked by his ass, hard cock dripping and on display.

And he can tell Jimin loves it. He runs his hands over Namjoon’s inner thighs before he takes his cock, stroking slowly. Namjoon shyly stares at Jimin’s own crotch, still clothed.

“Think you can handle this?” Jimin asks, reaching into his jacket pocket. Namjoon’s not even surprised when he pulls out a bottle of lube.

“Of course,” Namjoon mumbles.

“I mean the position, babe,” Jimin titters. Namjoon leans back onto his hands a bit more. He’s strong, despite his soft exterior. He nods.

“Good boy,” Jimin hums. He takes one of Namjoon’s feet, gently guiding it off the bike and into the air. Namjoon bites his lip, the cold breeze heightening his vulnerability.

Jimin kisses at Namjoon’s shin, undoing his own pants. Namjoon zeros in on the senses. Wet lips and gentle fingers, the sound of his zipper and the shuffle of fabric as he pulls out his cock, the scent of poplar and oak.

“You good?” Jimin asks. His voice is close. Namjoon didn’t realize he’s closed his eyes. Jimin’s eyes bore into his own, concern filtering through his pupils. Namjoon melts. It’s a look he’s only ever seen for him, and no one else.

He nods. “Please.”

Begging. He always gets here. Always more desperate for it. Always begging for Jimin’s cock. And Jimin always sits there like he does now, lathering lube over his cock, teasing fingers doing the same to Joon’s rim. No rush.

“I’m going to take your other leg now,” Jimin says. Namjoon opens his eyes again. Jimin has both his legs in either hand. He’s dressed beside his fat cock protruding from his leather pants. He’s a sinful mess, coming closer and stretching Joon’s legs higher until the head of his cock meets his rim.

“You ready?” Jimin asks.

“Mini,” Namjoon groans. Such a fucking tease.

It stings. The push, Jimin entering him slowly without any stretching. Namjoon loves it. Loves how his body accepts Jimin so easily, how Jimin could just take him, take and take like he does in the streets, but always treats Namjoon with such tenderness. At least, in the beginning.

As he bottoms out, the stretch in his thighs has Namjoon’s eyes stinging. Jimin’s head tucks into his collarbone, trying to hide his haggard breathing.

“Fuck, it’s so hot how you just fucking take it,” Jimin rasps, rolling his hips. Namjoon can’t talk, just digs his fingers into the rubber handles. “Fucking ruin me.”

Namjoon sighs. He loves the power. Jimin takes care of him constantly, but in these moments, Namjoon relishes the power he has over him. Jimin starts to pump and pick up pace and has Namjoon whimpering as the bike shifts beneath him. Once they start, Namjoon’s in control. He has the power to ruin Jimin. Every moan has Jimin answering back, each squeeze of his muscles makes Jimin’s hips stutter. When Namjoon begs for his mouth, Jimin’s kisses are sloppy and needy.

“God, love your skin,” Jimin croons, sucking at Namjoon’s neck. He tosses Namjoon’s legs onto his shoulders so his hands can wander over his tan skin, taking fistfuls of his ass and tweaking his nipples. Namjoon’s hard cock bounces between their bodies. Jimin takes notice, giving his hands a better task. His lube soaked fingers tug at Namjoon’s length, fisting him in time with his thrusts.

“Mini,” Namjoon whimpers, no other words coming to mind. Nothing’s in his mind besides his boyfriend completely consuming him. The metal of the bike bites into his ass as Jimin sinks his teeth into his neck. His arms stretch from the angle on the bike while his thighs flex on Jimin’s shoulders. It’s so much, so good, accompanied by the breeze and the setting sun, and Namjoon can’t handle it. The beauty of it, the perfectness, the contrast.

When Jimin finds his mouth again, soft lips and wet tongue meeting Namjoon’s, he cums. Jimin’s hips stutter, hand momentarily pausing before he makes sure he works Namjoon through it. He takes care of him every time, before he breaks free, breathing heavy before he leans back and pumps hard. His eyebrows furrow, mouth forming a perfect oh as the softest grunts catch in his throat. His nails dig into Namjoon’s thighs, but the pain means nothing as Namjoon watches Jimin’s euphoria chisel into his features.

As he comes down, he collapses forward onto Namjoon. Namjoon’s legs drop to the seat behind him. It’s uncomfortable, the headlight of the bike digging between his shoulders, but he won’t move. Jimin’s tousle of pink hair fans over his chest as his boyfriend catches his breath. Namjoon takes his chance to finally touch Jimin. He runs his hands through the damp hair, over his shoulders, under his chin.

“That was such a quad workout,” Jimin chuckles.

Namjoon chuckles back, both of them rumbling with it.

Jimin perks up, tucking his chin on Namjoon’s chest. “I didn’t know you were an exhibitionist.”

Namjoon strokes his cheek, a blushing pink. Namjoon still can’t believe he’s his. “I’d be anything for you.”

Jimin’s smile falters for a second. The sly look in his eyes flickers with something warmer, something vulnerable.

But then as always, he’s giggling. He shakes his head, sitting up to get off the bike so Joon can sit up, too. “You’re such a romantic.”

Namjoon wants to press it. Press the fact that Jimin slips up sometimes. Namjoon can see it. His calm and cool exterior breaks every now and then around Namjoon. But he doesn’t. He takes his glasses out of his pockets and puts them on. He picks up his pants and pulls them back up, yelping when Jimin gives him one last swat to the ass.

“Why the glasses?” Jimin teases booping Namjoon’s nose.

“There’s no way I’m driving back after that,” Namjoon mumbles, scuffing the dirt.

Jimin laughs, falling into Namjoon’s arms. “Okay, okay.”

To Namjoon’s horror (but no longer surprised), Jimin heads straight home, not even passing the dealership. What Jimin wants, Jimin takes. And Namjoon’s so glad Jimin chose to take him.

Imma craft this into a nice big oneshot soon, so look forward to it!

#minimoni #namjoon x jimin #namjoon smut #jimin smut #hyunglinenetwork #thekimlinenet #bangtanhq #ficswithluv #namjoon #jimin #piece of peace #kitty gang #namjoonie #kitty gang jimin #mxm #fwlbingo

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chiefbeck · 4 years

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Chapter 20: A Freedom Ride

I set up a ride for 9/11 as a remembrance ride to the tragedy of September 11th and to honor those who were lost that day and the days following in the hunt for the criminals responsible. We called it the freedom ride.

I set up the event, so I rode way up in front of the pack of motorcycles that cruised Southern California that day.

We had about a hundred motorcycles leaving Imperial Beach heading up Interstate 5 as we got a few miles past the exit. The pack was moving fast and speeding up, and then, all of a sudden in the center lane was a mattress tumbling off the back of a truck, and the entire pack of a hundred motorcycles scattered across the highway avoiding god’s mattress at 80 miles an hour.

Somehow, I don't know how, but the entire pack made it out unscathed. We continued on the highway and got off at Pacific beach, and I needed food and a beer at the first stop.

It was a poker run which has five stops, and you draw a card at each stop to try for the best poker hand. We hang out there for around 40 minutes.

We get back on the road with a few more bikes joining the pack we were possibly a hundred and fifty strong at this point flying up the coast toward the next stop.

Oceanside, California, Moreland choppers, this place is an old school chopper shop located here since the sixties and run by very cool people.

Draw cards, have a beer and get on the road.

We are making our way into northern San Diego to a little bar in the middle of the mountains and the hills; I think it's called The Hideout.

So I hang out there smoking and joking in general; good times and I meet up with one of the Southern California motorcycle clubs. They are meeting us on the road.

They knew about the 9/11 freedom ride and wanted to pay respect to the military and the sacrifices made for their freedom – freedom to ride in a club and do all the things we take for granted.

These are major bikers so they ride way up front and I am following now. It’s biker protocol.

We are riding from the mountains in northern San Diego toward El Cajon to meet at the last bar.

These are some steep and Squirrely passages up and down the mountain; you know, real curvy.

The main club dude is on a real old-school FXR, and he's flying, a natural born rider; really good, freaking fast, it was awesome.

I was catching up, and he saw me, so he waves me up to the front right next to him, and he starts going faster.

He's going faster and I just try to keep up on these crazy curves with cliffs on both sides. He is moving out on a curve. I try to stay with it and slide sideways and hit one of those raised reflectors in the middle of the road and my back tire jumps a bit and then catches. I am high sided and flipping crashing across the road.

I flipped a couple of times and came to a screeching halt fifty yards to the end of the curve with my motorcycle.

Some blood running down my head, my helmets all scraped; my leather jacket has some new holes. The right-hand handlebar has hit so hard that it sticks into the gas tank and gas is pouring out on the highway. The license plate bracket is ripped off, the throttle cable is torn and a few other minor things, scrapes all up-and-down. It's pretty beat up and I'm pretty beat up.

The Pack of motorcycles catches up and come to a stop along the highway and a few of the guys roll my bike off the road and immediately start fixing it back up. They wave the rest of the pack past to meet us at the bar. No worries.

They finished fixing the motorcycle, shoving a couple of bandanas into the gas tank and crank it up. It starts.

I am sitting on the ground 20 yards away with my back against rock looking down the cliff that I barely missed going over.

The biker boss comes over and kicks me in the foot and says “Your bike is running, let’s go.”

I grabbed my helmet put it on and slowly get up. My right arm doesn't seem to be working very well, I keep moving, get on the motorcycle and we start riding. We speed up to about the same speed as before.

Twenty miles later, we are at the bar, and the boss says, “you, you and you with me, we are going to ride through the bar.” He owns the bar, so no big deal for him. For us, we feel like we are in one of those movies from the sixties. One of those “Glory Stompers Movies.” We roll into the bar. It’s going nuts.

My arm is not working too good and I run into one of the pool tables and then bounce toward the door and jump my bike off the curb into the street. Everyone thinks I did it on purpose, and they are yelling big time. It was very cool, but I’m just thinking how lucky it was that I didn’t fall over.

I walk into the bar and ask for 5 shots of Jack. I gotta numb this arm up; its throbbing and getting more painful. I swig them all down.

This big biker dude, like 300lbs of “Hammer” and also a Vietnam medic says, “Hey Caveman, what the Hell’s wrong with your arm? Take off your jacket and let’s see what’s up.” I take it off, and he looks at it I says, “Holy fuck, your arm is dislocated. Get back there on the pool table; I’ll put it back in.”

I go back, lay on the pool table and sure enough the medic starts cranking on my arm and then – bam, a loud pop noise and its back in socket. It was loud enough that a few people stopped partying and looked over.

I sit up and start moving my arm around saying, “Man this feels good now, give me some more shots.”

The big boss comes over and says, “Holy shit you just road from the accident up the mountain with a dislocated arm.”

I just replied, “Yup, you kicked me in my broken foot and told me, Lets go.” He shook his head and said, “I don't know what to think about you SEAL team guys, but HELL YEAH.”

He gave me a cool biker poster later that day that says something about being “A hell of a man and a friend till the end.” Very cool ride, very cool day.

#harley davidson #Kristin Beck

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wheremytwinwatches · 4 years

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[Where My Twin Watches]: Full Metal Alchemist Brotherhood Episode 44

Last time: Doctor Marcoh broke the Hippocratic Oath, Envy chose the worst possible host, and a Central Officer showed Armstrong the Great his collection of action figures. Onwards!

Episode 44 - “Revving at Full Throttle” Oh heck yeah, we’re starting at the family reunion in Liore! Camera shows the radio fixed by the Elric Brothers way back when. [Beard]: “It’s been a long time, huh Al?” [Al]: “Yeah.” *awkwardness intensifies* [Beard]: “So, uh… I saw Pinako recently.” *Rose is standing off to the side, probably wondering about this ‘Pinako’ character her new boyfriend is talking about* [Beard]: “She told me about your body.” *awkwardness intensifies* *awkwardness intensifies* *awkwardness intensifies* [Villagers]: “Hey Mister Ho, could you-” [Beard]: “Oh sweet Leto yes get me out of this family drama. Absentee Anime Father, away!” Wow, really? Al are you just gonna let him walk away from this conversation? You haven’t seen him for a large portion, if not most of your life! Demand some friggin answers! Well at least the cook is trying to cheer Al up, thanking him for fixing up the radio. Al apologizes for the riot being caused by them exposing Cornello, but Cookie insists on looking at the good stuff that happened.

Sure people reacted “badly” at first, but now everyone’s all happily working together to rebuild from the ashes of their home! Can’t fault the man’s optimism. Inspired!Al goes running off to help build, seeing their General getting his hands dirty Toad and Boar (still wearing their winter clothes?) tag along, dragging a protesting Yoki with them. The Villagers are realizing Oh Crap We Interrupted Family Reunion, but Beard’s brushing it off. He left when Al was super young, he probably doesn’t even think of Beard as his father anymore. And have you seen the guy try to smalltalk? He doesn’t know what to say- [Al, clanking towards the group]: “Hey pops! Imma help with the building, cool? Cool. Hey NPCs, gimme that heavy stuff to cart around.” Aw, Beard gets to see that Al being trapped in a cold, unfeeling suit of armor hasn’t kept him from being a decent person. Whoa okay bath time for Winry, apologies for interrupting. Winry’s happy to finally get a good bath after traveling for so long. Rose is chatting with her while laying out clothes, admiring Winry for being a independent Automail Engineer at her age. And she was the one who literally got Ed back on his feet, which would mean later he would help Rose get back on hers. *Goes back to Ep 3 Recap*. That’s right, he told her to Keep Moving Forward, that she needed to use her two good legs to make her own path. Rose tells Winry about her misplaced belief in Cornello, when Winry gripes about Ed’s Tough Love routine Rose says that’s just his way of being nice. [Rose]: “But you already know that, don’t you?” [Winry]: *Stammers, blushes, and tries to hide her face in her tea.* So yeah, Ed exposed the truth behind Cornello’s miracles, and now Liore is learning to stand on its own. “All thanks to Ed and Al.”... yeah, calling it now. We’ll come back to this place in a decade or two, and the old Church of Leto will have been replaced with one to The Armor and the Alchemist. Hey, it’s Lizard dude! Bido, according to Bag of Magic Food. He’s going through a tunnel, griping that it was a bad idea to follow those MPs aw crap he’s wandering into Uncle’s sanctum, isn’t he? Turn around dude! But he’s still looking for Mister Greed, squeezes through some pipes to crap it’s the Golem Room. And are the Officer and Armstrong the Great still there? Quick, pull an Igor!

Ok, so it looks like he got there just before the Officer did his “Look at my cool toys” reveal, he’s hiding behind the pipes again. Officer’s explaining that the Golems are empty dummies that they can bond souls to. Oh, so they’re like Advanced Soul Armors, then? Tell me, have you gotten around the problem that Al’s having of the body rejecting the soul? Anyways, the Golems are immortal and apparently any bonded souls will be completely obedient. Alright Armstrong the Great, here’s the kicker; where do the souls to activate the Golems come from? Officer says that they’ll come from rival nations, “through the course of war”. Hoo boy. This was what I was afraid of way back when the concept of Philosopher Stones was introduced to Armstrong the Great. She is fiercely loyal to her troops and those she chooses to protect, it was the threat against her own forces and the reveal that the Goths were going to harvest the entire country that allied her with our main characters. But an army fueled by the conquest of Others? A chance to not just defeat her hated Drachman enemies, but fully convert them to her cause? Weapons that only grow stronger the more she uses them? I mean, with all the pushing around by Central and bullying of her troops I’m giving her 80% odds to still reject the Golems. But that remaining 20… We don’t get to hear any more as Bido freaks the fuck out and bolts back down the tunnels, screaming his head off. [Bido]: “This place is evil! Pure evil! Why did I ever come here?! Mister Greed would never be in an awful place like this-” Oh hey, it’s Ling! How’s Greed going to react to seeing an old “possession”: happy to see something of old that he gets to claim again, or annoyed that one of his old crew fled rather than try to help him? We’ll get back to that, we’re back in Liore where Al is warning Beard about the giant tunnel running under Liore. Beard tells him to stop talking about the Super Secret Goth Plot To Harvest A Country in the middle of the town square, waits until they’re in the ruins of the Church to discuss the story. He’s letting Al explain everything, does he want to keep his own involvement secret for- well never mind, Al’s brought up his Identical Brother chilling in Central. Beard turns away still acting all Mysterious wait what [Menacing!Beard]: “Did it ever cross your mind that I might be on their side?” But you’re not, unless… NOW HOLD UP. If you’re telling me that we’re looking at a Triplet situation, that Uncle made another copy to Oh ok I get it now. Beard is just emphasizing how trusting Al is, at least with him. But seriously dude, now that I’m thinking about it spilling your entire plan to a guy because you think he’s your father is a terrible idea. Maybe ask him to repeat a childhood memory, or somesuch? So after Al gets his non-corporeal heart to calm down from that scare, Beard says that he wants to tell his Backstory to both brothers in order to save time. Right, about that… Back up in the land of snow, at… “Bank’s Bank”? Really? That’s like a restaurant owned by Mister Burger or a law office run by Johnny Litigator. Whatever. Registers are ringing and checks are being cashed when huh. Sorry, just distracted by the banker’s appearance, she’s a lady with blonde hair but brown eyes and Ishvalan skin. What’s her story, is she an Amestrian/Ishvalan child like Sideburns? Moving on, a giant of a man is making a withdrawal oh hey it’s Monkey, he’s drawing from Ed’s account. Uh, are you that badly strapped for cash? You know that a withdrawal from the Protagonist’s account, by an unknown party no less, is going to raise all kinds of flags in Central. Yup, Monkey got the cash from Ed’s research account, but another banker’s already making a call. Ah, so it was for the medical bill. How much was this doctor charging? Oh jeez, the guy’s chuckling and saying he could charge them even more, Monkey complains that he’s already ripping them off but the doc’s likewise squinty-eyed wife says it’s only “reasonable” considering the risks involved.

Well, as long as they keep their mouths shut well never mind, looks like the cops are already on to them. I don’t suppose they can get a refund? The cops show up and push past the doctor, Lion’s getting bandaged by Mrs. Doctor. Oh great way to sell out the resting patient, our guys had better get a refund if he’s going to cave this quickly. No wait it’s just Monkey scowling from under some covers wait is he trying to hide Ed under the sheets? The cop asks if Monkey was at the bank earlier, and pulls a gun… Outside a guard hears someone walking, another white coat? Doctor #2? Cop #1 is ordering for Monkey to put his hands up oh hey the white coat outside is Ed with some groceries! Outfit change? I suppose his red coat was pretty distinctive. While Monkey’s at gunpoint Lion readies his own pistol and Monkey starts drawing his own gun, things might get loud pretty soon. Wait, is Ed’s hair loose? What happened to the ponytail?

Ok yeah, that was pretty distinctive like his coat. Outside guard is listing off the red coat, blond hair worn in a braid… uh oh. Here it comes. [Guard]: “... and short.” [Ed]: *bites through wooden skewer in annoyance* Nice knowing you, guard. The cops in the apartment hear a thud, and #1 tells another to check out the noise. Outside Guard is out cold, Cop #2 tries waking him up before there’s another thud, #1’s left yelling at the other two for answers when

Wait hold on, is Ed grabbing this guy around the neck? Is he standing on a box or something? Unless… no. No! Is it finally happening? Is my little boy finally getting a growth spurt?! … Wait, but if he’s growing taller, but has an artificial leg whoops better find Winry quick to upgrade, fighting might be a bit difficult if you’re all lopsided. Monkey snarks that Ed just had to take out three MPs on his own, when he hasn’t fully recovered yet. [Ed]: “Don’t treat me like an invalid. My injuries are fully healed, and I’m revving at full throttle!” Title drop! And damn but Ed’s rocking the new look. White coat, loose hair, and a growth spurt? Leg imbalance aside, I am totally down for this. Wait, is this because he “used his own life force” to patch himself up earlier? His body aged up from the energy expenditure? Cool! Mid-ep pictures of Bath!Winry and Older!Ed. So is carrying a wooden skewer in your mouth just a thing now, Ed? The doc’s telling Ed and the Chimeras to shove off, doesn’t look like that refund’s coming after all. Ed snags the Guard’s note in passing, thinking about how they’re just looking for the red coat and braid (pointedly ignoring the “short” comment), guess the outfit change is staying around for a while. Whoops! Took too long, some other MPs have shown up and are demanding they freeze. Wait, “move it kid”? Oh yeah, they’re just telling the guys with visible weapons to stand down, they think that the kid chowing down on bread is a bystander. Who just got grabbed by Monkey and threatened with a weapon! Monkey uses the MPs shock at the hostage-taking to tuck Ed under his arm and run for it, outside some more MPs spot them but Lion shoots some snow down on them. Run for it! One hotwired car later, Ed tells ‘Gorilla’ (“Don’t call me that!”) to step on it, but their stolen car isn’t fast enough to outrun vehicles from Northern Command. Dodge a truck so the MPs crash into it? That they… can’t do, actually. The MPs are catching up when Ed says to turn a corner and park. Plan? Transmutation sounds as they round the corner, the MPs follow but… it’s gone? Wait there’s another car in the road, but… … Ow. Ow ow ow. OW! Sweet Leto, but that hurts the eyes. Really, Ed? I can only assume that the MPs brains have shut off from the sheer garishness of that thing, they drive past the parked car looking for something a little more sensible. The Chimeras immediately ask for the car to be turned back to normal. [Ed]: “And why’s that? I think this car looks cool as hell!” [Monkey]: “Just change it back. Please, we’re begging you!” [Ed]: “You guys got a problem with my sense of style?!” [Monkey/Lion]: “You don’t have any!” Outside of town, Monkey’s answering the call of nature while they all discuss being drifters again. Ed’s wait buddy you’ve got your hair back in a ponytail, it’s not a full-on braid but it’s still close enough that any guards are going to give you a second look. Go back to the loose hair disguise! Ed’s thinking about how he let his guard down around Kimblee, and hoping that Al’s ok. For now, the Chimeras are asking their new boss where to go, Ed says that they need to find Al who’s probably with Marcoh now. [Lion]: “You do know how to find them, right?” [Ed]: “Right, about that…” In Liore, Al’s trying to wrap his head around Beard’s Backstory. Beard understands if Al doesn’t believe him, it’s a pretty crazy story. Then we remember that Beard’s talking to a soul bound to a suit of armor, so the idea that Beard is a Philosopher’s Stone isn’t that far fetched. They chat about being immortal, and thankfully Beard acknowledges the advantages of his form before settling on the fact that seeing everyone he knows and loves wither and perish sucks. Hey yeah, if you have a Philosopher's Stone body, did that affect Ed and Al’s development? Apparently not, Beard says he still has a human body. Unlike Uncle, who’s likened to “a leather bag”. He built a human body around himself and his gathered souls, so if they can destroy the body… Speaking of, the Nationwide TC! Beard looks over the TC and reverse-TC while Al says they can destroy the tunnel below Liore, but Beard shuts down the idea. Pride’s watching over the tunnel. But can they still try before nope we know the tunnel’s finished, and Beard is rather relaxed about the idea it’s complete. “Because it’s not yet time”? How do you know? [Beard]: “Look up, son. You’re too busy looking down when you need to look up.” Oh! I get it, it’s a constellation thing! That explains why the Xerxes King was talking about carving all the Crests before it was too late, the Nationwide TC needs the right positioning of the stars. Can’t do it until then.

Yes please follow along Al, look up to the sky, to… LETO! Bwahaha, Al thinks that Beard’s talking about Sun-God Leto. There we go, turns out Beard has converted to Letoism and plans on praying the Goths away. Or the Man in Central could indeed be waiting for the right star positions, that works too I guess. Oh hey, back to Bido in the pipes. Running? Oh shoot, looks like it was “Annoyed his possession abandoned him” Greed after all. Greed laughs about the chance to kill his boredom, Bido’s shocked to see the Ultimate Shield and hear the voice, yells at Greed for imitating Mister Greed. Wait, does Greed not recognize Bido? Greed boasts about wanting everything, Bido finishes his spiel about demanding the finer things in life. Greed asks who Bido is wait static? Ok, so Greed really doesn’t remember his past iteration? He lost his memories when Uncle reconsumed him? Bido’s struggling to reconcile the Mister Greed he knew with this new guy, while Greed demands Bido answer his questions. [Bido]: “It’s me! I’m your friend, Bido! You haven’t been gone from Dublith long enough to forget!” [Greed]: “Oh, you’re from Dublith! Ooohoho, now it makes sense!” [Bido]: “You remember m SHIT Greed just stabbed Bido! [Greed]: “Afraid not. You must have been buddies with the previous Greed.” Well this sucks, Bido’s trembling in pain and grief while Greed says they’ve never even met wait the static’s back and his arm is trembling and the static is becoming visions of Greed’s old crew. Is his memory returning? Hoo boy Ling’s calling Greed out for killing his old friend. Greed protests that Bido wasn’t his friend, that those memories belonged to the previous Greed. [Ling]: “Then why are you in so much pain?!” Ling’s threatening that if Greed doesn’t pull himself together that he’ll take control of the body again. Greeds gritting out that his old memories were purged by Uncle, that they aren’t part of him anymore- [Ling]: “No, you’re wrong Greed! It’s not that easy! They’ll always be a part of you! You can’t just erase them from your soul! They were the only part of you that you chose! Look at them! Can you not hear their souls crying out? You abandoned them, your real family! You threw them away like trash! Fool, you turned your back on something you wanted. You don’t deserve to call yourself Greed!” Clutching the still form of Bido, Greed screams. End Credits. Post-credit scene in Central at the Bradley Manor, Mama Bradley is suggesting a book to Selim. About an adventurer who travels the world- Bradley’s looked up and Mama Bradley grabbed Selim at the sound of rustling and footsteps. It’s Greed. And he’s not happy.

#wmtw #where my twin #full metal alchemist #full metal alchemist brotherhood #fmab #fmab 44

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olivereliott · 3 years

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Speed Read, September 12, 2021

We’re launching into this week’s round-up with a radically reworked Moto Guzzi Bellagio, and finishing off with a look at the upcoming Moto Guzzi V100 Mandello. Wedged in between are a garage-built Honda CB450, a rescued Harley-Davidson Sportster 883, and a Royal Enfield 650 from XTR Pepo.

Moto Guzzi Bellagio by Guzzi Motobox Custom shops that specialize in a particular marque have a habit of pulling out all the stops—and Guzzi Motobox in Catalonia is probably one of the best examples. After all, how many workshops could turn the laid back Moto Guzzi Bellagio into a fire breathing cafe racer?

GMB’s work on this Bellagio is a double whammy; they’ve not only dramatically changed its silhouette, but also given it a boost under the hood.

Using cylinders and pistons from specialist outfit Radical Guzzi, GMB took the motor from 935 cc to 1,500 cc, with four valves per cylinder instead of two. The team also converted the bike from fuel injection to a carbureted setup, and ditched the air box for a pair of velocity stacks. The stock exhaust headers were tweaked to run a pair of HP Corse mufflers.

The running gear’s been upgraded too, with the Showa forks from a Kawasaki ZX10R up front, and a custom built Öhlins shock out back.

The wheels are stunning 17” spoked units from Kineo, and the brakes are Brembos, complete with carbon fiber cooling ducts on the front discs. It wasn’t all plug-and-play though: GMB boss Manel Segarra reports that matching up the front forks, wheel and brakes took a lot of fiddling.

Higher up, GMB built a whole new subframe to sharpen up the Bellagio’s lines. The fuel tank and tail section, plus the front fender, are all custom pieces. “A close friend, German Dervidson, made them for us,” explains Manel. “We made the pieces in a special foam, and German replicated them with aluminum.”

The Guzzi also wears new rear sets and foot controls, with clip-ons, Beringer levers and switchgear from Renard Speed Shop up top. Other add-ons include new yokes, a small GMB speedo and an LED headlight. A custom carrier at the back holds the license plate, along with a pair of combo taillight and blinker LEDs. [Guzzi Motobox]

Honda CB450 by Scott Loyet There’s something special about hobby builds, and the blood, sweat and tears that are poured into them. This tastefully stylish Honda CB450 cafe racer is Scott Loyet’s first build—a project that took him four years to complete, because he resolved to only work on it when he “felt like it.” And it’s a pretty remarkable first effort.

Scott picked up the 1973 CB450 around the same time that his friend, Cory, also started working on a 70s-model CB.

“Cory has been my ‘Yoda’ throughout this project,”says Scott, “a man who has been around engines and motors all his life. My dad was a grease monkey, and I always admired the way he could fix anything on our family cars—and frankly, anything around the house, including hair dryers!”

“With no mechanical experience and new time on my hands since my kids had gotten older, I embarked on ripping apart my first bike. As my dad said to me, ‘you learn more from your mistakes’ and I learned A LOT. With parts and assistance from not only Cory, but also Dime City Cycles, Common Motor Collective and lots of YouTube videos, I was able to get over the finish line.”

Scott first stripped the bike down, then sent a bunch of parts off for fresh powder coating. The engine was refreshed with new valves and top end gaskets, and is now hooked up to Mikuni V32 carbs with velocity stacks from Speed Moto. Sparck Moto supplied a new wiring harness, and Scott installed an electronic ignition, new coils and plugs, a rebuilt starter, a Lithium-ion battery and a new regulator and rectifier.

Scott refreshed the front forks, but replaced the rear shocks with a new pair of Progressive units. The brakes were rebuilt, and the wheels re-laced with stainless spokes from Buchanan’s. Up top are new bars with wrapped Trip Machine Co. grips, and new dials. And all the lighting’s been replaced with LED units.

Scott had help along the way. CJ at Pullman Fabrications handled the custom battery box, rear loop and frame reinforcements, and built the new exhaust headers, which are connected to Lossa Engineering mufflers. Aaron at Pleasant Hill Auto Body massaged the fuel tank so that it’d transition with the seat better, Brian Jennings handled paint and Armand’s Auto Upholstery covered the seat.

“This bike was therapy for me,” says Scott, “with endless hours cleaning, shining and building. In the end, it is a tribute to my dad and an heirloom for my son or daughter.” [Images by Shirley DeFrancisci]

Harley-Davidson Sporster 883 by Minority Custom At a glance, this 2000-model Sportster 883 from Indonesia’s Minority Custom doesn’t break any major new ground. But it is very pretty and extremely tidy—impressive, when you consider that it started out as a wreck.

“’Simplicity is beauty’ is what our garage strives to show in our designs,” explains shop boss, Jonathan Evan. “We found this motorbike in a dull and damaged condition. Some parts of the engine were leaking and broken, oil was everywhere, and it had malfunctioning rear brakes and broken pistons.”

Minority rebuilt the Sporty inside and out, making a number of changes along the way. The crew wanted to give it a slight chopper stance—so they stretched the front forks and swapped the front wheel for a 21” hoop. There’s a solid 16” rear wheel at the back, hooked up to a custom-made sprocket.

Next, the OEM fuel tank was cut-and-shut to shrink it, and to make it sit tighter on the Harley’s backbone. Behind it is a custom leather seat, and behind that, a hand-made mini sissy bar that adds a touch of chopper sass, without going overboard.

Up front, tucked under the standard-issue Sportster headlight nacelle, is a smaller-than-stock light mounted on a custom-made bracket; a neat touch that most eyes won’t notice. The handlebars are one-offs too, as are the stainless steel slash-cut exhausts.

Top marks to Minority for the lush color scheme too—the frame’s been done in turquoise, with some green hues mixed in on the bodywork, and a smattering of chrome. The tank bears the shop’s own unique take on the typical Harley eagle motif, and was completely executed by hand. [Minority Custom | Images by Val Willson]

Royal Enfield Continental GT 650 by XTR Pepo A number of custom builders have already shown that Royal Enfield’s new generation Continental GT 650 is ripe for remodeling. But in the hands of the mad scientist Pepo Rosell, it’s really come alive.

This 2019-model Continental GT 650 is sporting a number of signature XTR Pepo touches—not least of all its heavy endurance racing vibe and protruding headlights. They’re mounted just forward of a custom fairing, which in turn sits on custom brackets.

Tucked behind are a CNC-machined top yoke from Riga Billet Parts and XTR Pepo clip-ons. The quick-throttle and right switches are from Domino, the brake master cylinder is a Brembo item, the clutch assembly is from a Suzuki GSX-R, and the levers are CNC-machined XTR Pepo parts. There’s also a new oil temperature gauge, and foot pegs and controls from K-Speed in Taiwan.

The custom fiberglass fuel tank lightly mimics the original design, but has a transparent strip on the side for checking levels, and an aluminum filler cap from ACC Endurance. The solo seat is Pepo’s design too, and the subframe’s been modified to match it.

Pepo replaced the rear shocks with new ones from YSS, swapped the 18” wheels for 17s, and shod them with Continental Road Attack tires. The exhaust headers have been shortened and now exhale through a pair of Turbokit megaphones.

Elsewhere, Pepo’s added LED turn signals, a custom license plate support, and a CNC-machined chain tensioner and sprocket cover from Riga Billet Parts. Artenruta handled the cheeky red livery—the perfect finishing touch for this rapid-looking Royal Enfield. [XTR Pepo | Images by Belen Piqueras]

The new Moto Guzzi V100 Mandello No, you’re not looking at a modern reinterpretation of the iconic Yamaha TDM850. This is the new Moto Guzzi V100 Mandello—a brand new ‘tall rounder’ with a brand new motor, that’ll make it’s official debut at EICMA in November.

Moto Guzzi have revealed nothing more than images and a teaser video [below] that desperately wants to remind you that the marque’s logo has an eagle in it. But there are a few dead giveaways and easy speculations. The engine looks to be all-new, with liquid cooling and an assumed capacity of 1,000 cc, and power is still directed via a shaft drive.

The video also reveals air channels on the fairing that open and close, and a windshield that moves up and down. It’s not clear whether these will operate automatically or not, but we’ve seen the term “active aerodynamics” bandied about, so make of it what you will.

Guzzi specialists Classic Co. either have inside info or are master speculators. They’ve pointed out a large airbox where the tank would go, an under seat fuel tank, and a four-valve-per-cylinder engine layout that can be bumped to 1,300 cc and used in a wide variety of applications. They’ve also cleverly noticed that the air intakes sit above the cylinder heads, and the exhaust ports below, unlike Guzzi’s current V-twins.

Looking at the red and green bikes that Guzzi have shown, it’s also clear that the V100 Mandello will most likely come in two models. Both are sporting Brembo brakes, but the green version [above] also has Öhlins suspension at both ends.

Overall, we’re digging the slightly 80s aesthetic, and it looks like it’d be a fun ride—as long as it delivers enough power in a decent weight class. Color us curious. [Moto Guzzi]

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indirispeaks · 7 years

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Titanic Fail Part the Second

!Presented in convo form! Apologies for the length

Me: Okay remember that glorious shipwreck of epic proportions that was the animated titanic movie I told you about with the magic anime girls moonbeam tears?

Him: .....yeah...

Me: I love your suble uneasiness in that 'yeah'. Because THERE IS A SEQUEL.

Him: .....I want to get off this planet now.

Me: "Titanic: Elizabeth And Mullet-Face Go To The Lost City Of Atlantis And There Is A Battle With Sharks And Creepy Clown Toys And Mentally Challenged Racist Caricatures Mice, And Also The Dog Has A Gun For Some Reason."

Him: fuck my life

Me: Also called "In Search of Titanic" But my version is more accurate. So Elizabeth and Glove Sniffer, (fuck if I remember the guy's name he made zero impression on me the first time)along with the dog -who can talk now- and the reeeeally awkward mice are riding around in a submarine looking for the wreck of the Titanic. Which is stupid, since the giant pinkie thing put the goddamn ship back together and lugged it to the new york harbor previously. Whales saved all the people! It was happily ever after all around.

Him: WHAT IS CONTINUITY?

Me: No one on the production team knows what that word means. It is unclear why the talking mice are qualified to make submersible dives. Maybe it happened between movies while the dog was learning to talk. Actually come to think of it, every animal in the first movie could talk except the dog and the whales and yet everyone seemed to understand them just fine even without the glitter spooge and it wasn’tt a big deal to ANY of them. I'm not sure why I'm searching for meaning and logic in a film written and produced by alcoholic lemurs but it still bugs me.

Him: Alcoholic lemurs could have written a better story. meth addicted squirrel monkeys though.

Me: No the squirrel monkeys wrote the sequel. In the snow. With their own pee. But yeah the dog can talk now and I think his name is Lucky. Or Fritz. Or Frank. Steven? He doesn't like being down there because there are sharks. Water is blue, Stevie-boy. But speaking of sharks, the criminal shark gulag is back, again with the whaler asshole, still after the whales. There are no whales in this movie. The giant pink thingie is apparently called Tentaclino, but no one even calls him that and he's not really in the movie either. For that matter, neither is the Titanic. I don't know what they were actually calling it, because 80 percent of the dialogue in garbled to high hell in some way or another.

Which I guess is what happens when three different countries work on the same movie in a fourth language none of them actually speak. They gave up 20 minutes in anyway and just started trying to out-stupid each other.

The new head shark (also with names changing every other scene) gets da boyz to attack the sub and cut it loose because it's yellow. All submarines are yellow. Also sharks are colorblind IRL but that's the least of this movie's issues.

Him: Of course it's yellow.

Me: Everyone in the sub is understandably shocked and upset at this development, except for Glove Sniffer who says that everyone should remain calm while the sharks chew through their tether and oxygen tube. The breach causes implosive decompression and kills them all instantly. The End.

Him: That's not what happened is it.

Me: Nupe.

Him: Joy.

Me: What actually happens is Da Boss shark and his dudebros chew the Technodrome loose to the complete and utter indifference of everyone inside it because the animation budget did not have enough money to pay for more frames when the dudebros start playing tether ball with it. They ask Da Boss shark if they should finish destroying it but he says no, first he has to stop and brush his teeth. Dental hygiene is important, yo! This calls for a rap number!

OH YEEEEEEEEEEAH THIS ONE'S A MUSICAL! YAAAAAY!!!

Him: This is a hell dimension. We are in a hell dimension.

Me: It sets the precedent for the whooole circus though, because NONE of the "songs" in this technicolor nightmare make any sense to anyone who doesn't just happen to be an acid-tripping squirrel monkey. The most I got out of this one was the opening line of "YO! YO! YO! LOOK AT MY TEETH! HOOGA HOOGA HOOGA SO WHITE AND NEAT!" and the rest of it was sung by a chorus of small clams who'd come back from the dentist with mouths full of Novocaine. It SOUNDED like they were singing "Oh, you, you! There's no white meat out of you! Oh, you, you! There's wuh walla, walla WOOOO!!" You can look it up on youtube, the comments are full of people taking guesses at the actual lyrics.

Him: ....

Me: After that incomprehensible nonsense, it cuts back to where Elizabeth, Glove Sniffer and co. have been hanging out awaiting their cues for the last five minutes that you just spent listening to cartoon prison-shark rapping. Literally. Upside down and motionless. Elizabeth's long flowing hair is unaffected by gravity. They come back to life just in time to realize they're probably going to drown and are understandably panicked....except for Glove Sniffer, natch, who tells them to stay calm again but then they go unconscious again and merpeople on multicolored My Little Pony steeds (WHY) come to the rescue and save everybody by spraying air bubbles on their heads....

hang on sec

I missed the part where it became possible for the merpeople to open the top hatch without turning the people into ground sausage. I.

Magic glitter spooge.

I guess.

They're unconscious again in any case. They're also wearing life vests like that's going to help you 7 miles down. I couldn't tell if they were dead or not as they were not sausage, but if they were it would have saved the audience 70 more minutes of this shit. Actually I think the dogs name was Pete.

Him: I'd suggest rewatching it as a drinking game but I don't think anyone would survive the alcohol poisoning.

Me: Yeeeeeah. The mersquad lugs their unconscious asses back to the Lost City of Atlantis, populated by more merpeople who are really just different colored normal people walking around in frog feet with artistically placed fish scales. Pete wakes up halfway there, catches sight of a merwoman and is utterly convinced he's dead and she's taking him to doggy hell. Doggy. Hell. Full throttle Don Bluth. She tells him to stay calm, they're safe now. He doesn't buy it but WHO THE FUCK WOULD.

You might be able to make a drinking game of how many times they actually say some version of "stay calm." They are met at the door by a blue guy whose name we never find out, who tells them that in order to visit the city they have to drink this incredibly suspicious green potion. Elizabeth questions the wisdom of accepting drinks from people wearing sexy-nurse costumes complete with white cowboy hat emblazoned with a red cross. Blue guy tells her to stay calm...and then says "GET EVERYTHING READY!!" to the sexy nurse in a tone that is in no way menacing and foreshadowy.

And from this point on, Elizabeth "I can talk to dolphins with my magiccy-farts" becomes the SOLE VOICE OF REASON. To which the blue guy tells her to shut up and drink it already.. Total dick move. Glove-Sniffer has lost what few brain cells he had (probably from sniffing other things, like wet paint and cat piss), and says that he understands. Just stay calm, and isn't this potion a pretty color? Can't possibly be a bad thing! CHUGGALUGGALUGALUG. I'm not kidding he actually says that. Elizabeth questions her own sanity.

Him: .........she's just now questioning that?

Me: Yeah, well. Elizabeth has seen some fucked up shit in her day. Then the blue guy takes them on a tour! They go and meet this jack in the box clown...fish...pokemon thing with a cape and a pimp cane because why the hell not, who says he's the ambassador or something and oh by the way everything in the city can breathe underwater, never go to sleep, everything can talk, and live forever. Scary Toy sounds like a cross between Marilyn Manson and Fozzie Bear which is creepy as fuck. I can totally see Jeff Dunham using that voice in his stand up. Then it gets bizarre.

Him: again, just now?

Me: More bizarre.

Him: I didn't know it was possible to go downhill from the deepest pit of hell.

Me: They have a backhoe for digging, and Buffy missed this particular hellmouth. There's a bunch of toys that live in the ballroom and Creepy Toy goes into this...this...song and dance number...about how all this works..I must have blanked it out after he made this horrifying demon giggle. He doesn't exactly sing, either, just spouts more Manson-esque lyrics until all hell breaks loose in a sort of what I can only describe as "Techno Rave Fusion Dance Party Music". The lights go out and colored spotlights start flying around the raving toy mosh pit (there's a mosh pit) and every single word of whatever the serial killer fish clown is trying to say is completely obscured by WUB WUB WUB, WUBBA WUB WUB WUB!! WUB WUB WUB, WUBBA WUB WUB WUB!! Elizabeth's voice actor can be heard over the soundtrack saying "THIS IS SCARY!!" and she is so right.

Him: ....

Me: He finishes his routine by abruptly telling them surprise! they're not allowed to leave the city and go home for the rest of their immortal, sleepless lives. Elizabeth is upset. Guess what Glove Sniffer tells her?

And then they go meet the king, who is a fushia man I think. He's wearing a long green robe with attached hoodie cowl from which a black hole exudes so you can't see his face. Could have been tentacles under there for all I know. He's sitting on a throne which I admit was kinda cool, made out of water with fish and seaweed floating/swimming around in it. Or at least it was cool until it gets up and starts following the king around and there's a fucking face on it that the king proceeds to sit on and then it blows bubbles right up his ass. It's a sentient bidet.

Him: sec, finding the vodka.

Me: He asks how they are adjusting to the "news" that they are now under house arrest til the end of time, and Glove Sniffer says he's glad they were told right away and in such an amusing manner. Whoever was responsible for writing his dialogue has been huffing rubber cement between sentences. Elizabeth looks irritated. I don't really blame her.

Then the movie remembers oh yeah, talking animals! The dog's name might have been Happy. Still no clue about the mice. Happy finds a lady dog that lives in Atlantis because why not, and they frolic a bit She has no speaking lines and it's love at first sight. She has no name. Meanwhile the mice are taken to meet all the other mice and why are there fucking mice in Atlantis? There, uh. There's a chinese one. You can tell this movie was made somewhere other than here because that one would have never got past the MPAA.

Anyway the mice/rats have this plan to overthrow the king and steal the elixir of life and then go Pinky and the Brain. It is not explained why they the elixir will help them take over the world. They also for some reason have laser guns. The two sailor mice run and tell the king. He doesn't question their story and neither did I. Elizabeth did.

Him: ....

Me: The king decides to let the mice try to take over the world because they're just a bunch of heat-packing mice and he has a bazillion army merpeople and toys and the elixir of life. He replaces it with water so the mice steal a fake. They test it out by tying another mouse to a rock and tossing him down a well to drown. I mean if you're going to put Don Bluth-level incredibly dark topics in a kid's movie, you may as well go all in. The Creepy Toy is afraid of the mice taking him apart with a screwdriver because then he'll be dead, (for kids!) but a red dolphin reassures him that screwdrivers are banned in Atlantis. (Apparently they built the city without screws. I dunno just go with it okay?)

The evil mice are in cahoots with the sharks who are in cahoots with the whaling asshole because there needs to be at least six different plotlines at the same time. They want to feed the pink thingie to Da Boss shark. Why? Supposedly he ruins stuff....mainly any sort of continuity when someone tries to inject some sanity into this. stupid. stupid. Stupid. stupid. stupid stupidstupidstupid there's a toy army that goes up against the mice who have their own submarines and how the hell are ANY of them supposed to take over the world when your shark shock troops are stuck underwater and you don't have a tornado handy?

I need a break

Their subs also have lasers but they are outgunned via Glove Sniffer's rampaging stupidity. There's a brief fight montage, the dog sets up a sniper point and starts picking off mice even though he lacks opposable thumbs and he's scared of sharks. And water. I'm not sure why he's on this vacation. Maybe they needed to sell tie in plushies?

Pew! Pew! Pew! Pew-pew! WHOOOOMPA! Pew! Pew!

There's also a boy doll who looks like a girl doll because he's got a wig on and it's a curse a little girl put on him to look like a girl and blah blah blah blah it's not important. None of this is important. He sounds like a pirate even though he's dressed in scottish kit. He off a single cannon shot and ta da! he's a boy again and promptly fucks off the movie never to be seen or mentioned again. Yay, misogyny on top of pointless! Thankfully he does not sing or rap about it.

Him: Small mercies.

Me: The war is over! The mice have slunk back to Atlantis and decide to test their elixir of life anyway even though...their entire battle strategy imploded. Elizabeth's voice actor has given up entirely and she just sort of stands there, lost in her own little hell. There's a grand total of 4 seconds where the pink thingie shows up and then leaves so the animators have an excuse to plaster him/her/it on the dvd case. The king decides to reward the useless tourists, half of whom keep asking nosy questions, and puts the Titanic back together again (I mean this IS a Titanic movie, the ship has to be in the film for at least 12 seconds) There is now a sentient screwdriver in the mix whose supposedly the Creepy Toy Fish's best friend. They'.....but he's scare...I thought they were ban...the fuck.

Him: Well yeah.

Me: They get the ship cleaned up and put back together (what's continuity again?) and then use it to drop Elizabeth and Glove Sniffer on a deserted tropical island to live the rest of their lives going quietly insane up THERE instead of underwater. Which is an improvement over hostages, because now they're marooned with the Titanic parked on the beach as their own private yacht. Thank god they don't have relatives that will miss them or go looking for them. I kinda wonder that since they have issues with continuity if there were dead bodies on the ship. I assume there probably were but there sure aren't any now. I won't speculate as to what happened to them but you never see anybody eating fish down there, if you know what I mean. That's basically the end, everyone lives happily ever after if you don't count mind never seeing your families and friends ever again.

Him: .....you know I hate you, right?

........the dogs name was fucking “Smile” by the way.

#titanic movie #titanic #titanic cartoon #lasers #wtf

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mixtapekings · 4 years

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Listen Review of DaBaby’s ‘BLAME IT ON BABY’ Album by djbooth.net

‘BLAME IT ON BABY’ is an album that says, “I’m on the way,” not, “I have arrived.”

DaBaby, born Jonathan Kirk, lives life full-throttle. He raps fast; he lives fast. He is the antithesis of stillness. Following the release of two commercially successful albums―Baby on Baby and KIRK―the Charlotte, North Carolina native is positioned to take over the music industry.

Although it’s only been seven months since the release of KIRK and the success of popular singles “BOP” and “VIBEZ,” DaBaby returns to the spotlight with BLAME IT ON BABY, a new album featuring Future, Megan Thee Stallion, Roddy Ricch, and more.

The decision to release BLAME IT ON BABY now—the cover is the first to acknowledge the COVID-19 pandemic—means DaBaby will forever be associated with this moment in human history. When hip-hop looks back on 2020 and the months of quarantine, they’ll remember DaBaby releasing BLAME IT ON BABY, and how the album made them feel. At least, that should have been DaBaby’s goal when he decided to unleash the project.

In usual 1-Listen fashion, the rules are the same: no skipping, no fast-forwarding, no rewinding, and no stopping. Each song will receive my gut reaction from start to finish.

1. “CAN’T STOP”

DaBaby has arrived. “Ain’t no stopping a nigga like me.” He’s talking that talk. He breathes confidence. I like the production. It’s airy. A subtle bounce. He’s feeling himself. He’s a rapper on fire. “I only answer to God.” “CAN’T STOP” sounds like it was recorded after a soldout show in Madison Square Garden. I like it. Verse two is refreshing. Not as explosive as the first. Brag raps. Big brags. “When I get in my feelings, I make niggas feel it.” That was a strong, “Bitch ass nigga.” This is a man I wouldn’t try to stop. Juggernaut rap. DaBaby is a rap giant.

2. “PICK UP” feat. Quavo

“PICK UP” is slower. Kind of ambient with a bounce. Interesting. He sounds like he’s rapping slower, taking his time. “I look better in person.” Ha. He glows confidence. “PICK UP” is cool. I’m not sure who made this beat, but… Quavo! Quavo raps like a professional football coach. I mean that in the best way. A man on the field, commanding, the confidence of a leader. The Nick Saban of rap. I like him on this better than DaBaby. It feels more natural than the songs on Quavo’s solo album. “You already know I’m the goat.” Okay, sir. “PICK UP” is fine.

3. “LIGHTSKIN SH*T” feat. Future & Jetsonmade

“LIGHTSKIN SH*T” doesn’t sound like a Jetson beat. A good bounce. DaBaby has a good melody, I can see it being popular on Instagram. There’s going to be some interesting discourse around this one. Future! Sonically, this is so bright for Future. I like Future’s voice on this. He sounds a bit like Thug. He’s talking that talk. “Hard to fall off I’m super relevant.” He killed it. “LIGHTSKIN SH*T” isn’t a bad song, but it’s not gripping.

4. “TALK ABOUT IT”

Wheezy! Whew! “TALK ABOUT IT” is the one. Infectious. I love hearing the word “Jit” in rap songs. It’s so Southern. DaBaby is swagging. So much life. So much pride. “TALK ABOUT IT” is the song Drake should be on. Started from the bottom now I’m here rap. A keeper. He’s good, real good. “All a nigga know is hustle.” You want to follow him to the top.

5. “SAD SH*T”

“Let me do some sad shit.” Man, this record don’t sound sad. He’s singing. Is he trying to get his girl back? I don’t know what’s happening. He’s switching pitches. He sounds like a possessed Young Thug. Now he’s back on his pimping. Was that a Migo ad-lib? Nothing makes sense. Is that a vocal sample? How is this song still building? “You ever got your heart broken, nigga?” Man, what is happening. How is this song still going? DaBaby songs aren’t supposed to last this long. Where is Rich Homie Quan? If Rich Homie would’ve made this same song, I’d be crying in the club. “SAD SH*T” has too much performance to be sad.

6. “FIND MY WAY”

“Wait a minute, who are you?” Ha, I like the drop. “FIND MY WAY” is boring. By far, the slowest DaBaby has ever sounded. The songs don’t progress with any purpose. He’s so still. “FIND MY WAY” isn’t saying much to me. That Melly line wasn’t it. I like the line about him being a hero. Man, skip.

7. “ROCKSTAR” feat. Roddy Ricch

I’m excited to hear Roddy. I know my sister-in-law is somewhere ecstatic. DaBaby leaning into this type of melodic rap creates the ideal setting for Roddy to skate. So far, “ROCKSTAR” is alright. A nice flow switch. The PTSD line got me. Oh man, he just mentioned the murder in Wal-Mart. Crazy. Roddy! The million-dollar voice. I hear so much music that sounds like him. He’s skating. He is Tony Hawk, and “ROCKSTAR” is his skatepark. “ROCKSTAR” is a fine song. It could be a big single, but I don’t feel compelled to hear it again.

8. “JUMP” feat. Youngboy Never Broke Again

“Cha-ching.” The bounce! NBA YoungBoy has a voice that projects with charisma. Yeah, this is good. Real good. It’s a single. It’s going to be a Black Air Force 1 summer. Such an infectious song. “Made a song in 10 minutes and went platinum.” I love hearing DaBaby brag about his accomplishments. “I make it jump like crack in the ’80s.” Voices from Baton Rouge jump in your veins. Southern rappers have such a natural bounce in their voices. It’s a cheat code. Youngboy ate. Keeper. DaBaby’s second verse is charming. These two are a good combo. I didn’t expect much, but they align as if they were kindred spirits.

9. “CHAMPION”

“Yeah, I took the cash route.” His words are embedded with passion. The melodic flow works for him. “CHAMPION” reminds me of Rich Homie Quan, but Quan was belting it out. DaBaby sings from the heart, but Rich Homie sang from the gut. DaBaby’s a champion. Rich Homie Quan was an angel.

10. “DROP” feat. A Boogie Wit Da Hoodie & London On Da Track,

I don’t like “DROP.” DaBaby’s singing is not selling a product I want to buy. He’s just not offering much here, and I’m not a fan of the production. A Boogie sounds more at home. So many artists sound like A Boogie. Or does A Boogie sound like so many artists? I can hear “DROP” on the radio. It’s not striking, but it’s kind of pleasant in a commercial rap way. “Why the fuck wouldn’t they want to rob me?” Well, that’s one way of putting it, Boogie. “DROP” is a skip.

11. “BLAME IT ON BABY”

Ahh! These keys. His voice. Yep, this is personality. This is speed. This is rhythm. Where was this energy!? He’s talking that talk. I have been waiting for “BLAME IT ON BABY” all album. Yep, yep, yep. “I know I’m on top, I’m a target.” He’s taking off. A rocket ship is taking off. “Slow down, slow down.” WHERE WAS THIS ALL ALBUM!? Jesus, man. Let’s go!

12. “NASTY” feat. Ashanti & Megan Thee Stallion

Of course, he sampled Ashanti’s “Baby.” This is cool. I imagine JaRule will appreciate this effort. I can hear “NASTY” on the radio. DaBaby reminds me of Ludacris at times. He’s a rapper with a striking personality who raps with vivid lyricism. Of course, London made this track. Megan! Oh, this a hit. If people could go outside, the day parties would eat this up. It’s so familiar. It’s so nasty. She gave DaBaby the verse “NASTY” needed. Tina Snow raps. “NASTY” worked better than I expected. I was worried it would be cheesy. I spoke too soon. Why is DaBaby still rapping? This song doesn’t need to be this long. Ashanti sounds fine, but I didn’t need additional vocals. “NASTY” could’ve ended three “babies” ago. Brevity people, brevity.

13. “AMAZING GRACE”

“A nigga barely read the scripture, but I’m spiritual.” I like this. It’s honest. I’m not in love with the mix. I feel like a tighter mix would’ve made this one pop. There’s a rawness to “AMAZING GRACE”—a demo that was too good to record again. Not a grand finale, but a memorable one.

Final (First Listen) Thoughts on DaBaby’s BLAME IT ON BABY:

DaBaby’s BLAME IT ON BABY is an interesting album. Musically and lyrically, the work is not a massive departure from the winning tricks and acrobatics that made Baby on Baby and KIRK successful releases. But, instead of introducing a new perspective or revealing anything about himself that we didn’t already know, DaBaby repeats familiar tropes alongside famous friends and over contemporary productions.

At best, BLAME IT ON BABY reaffirms DaBaby has the charisma of a rap star. He has the voice, confidence, and style to be a giant among men. But does he have the songwriting? BLAME IT ON BABY, on first listen, makes you wonder. There are some high highs, like “NASTY,” “UP,” and “TALK ABOUT IT,” but, as an album, BLAME IT ON BABY isn’t undeniable.

DaBaby is still a new artist. Emerging into his stardom. BLAME IT ON BABY is an album that says, “I’m on the way,” not, “I have arrived.”

from Listen Review of DaBaby’s ‘BLAME IT ON BABY’ Album by djbooth.net

#Albums #News #BLAME IT ON BABY #DaBaby #DJ Booth #Yoh Phillips

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somar78 · 4 years

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A Brief History of the Brough Superior SS100 – The World’s First Superbike

A Motorcycle Superior to All Others

George Brough was a man who had a love of motorcycles and a social intelligence that enabled him to put his finger on the pulse of what would be attractive to Britain’s upper classes. This meant he was able to offer them a niche product that would sell well, despite being highly priced.

In the 1920s and 1930s British society was still very class conscious, something that the country has retained even until the present day. So George Brough set out to create not only a motorcycle that was actually superior to all others, but one that would be a fashion statement for his wealthy clientele. He set out to create the motorcycle equivalent of the Rolls-Royce, and he succeeded.

Brough Superior – No Humble Beginnings

George Brough’s father was William E. Brough and he had been in the motorcycle making business since 1908. This provided the young George Brough with a considerable knowledge and expertise base with regards to motorcycles, their use both as transportation and in competition, and their design and manufacture.

He worked in his father’s business and had begun in motorcycle competition when he was still at school in 1906. He won the London to Edinburgh and Back Trial three years in a row; 1910, 1911, and 1912, completing that last year by winning a Gold Medal and prize for best performance in the 1912 Scottish Six Days Trial using a single gear with no clutch and with sealed tool bags. So George had built for himself a well established name in motorcycling circles.

Above Image: A Brough (not Superior) motorcycle

As it turned out George and his father had an argument in 1919 and it proved to be sufficient for George to make the decision to leave his father’s business and set up a motorcycle manufacturing business of his own, which he did that same year. George and his father William had quite different views on what would be the best strategy to prosper a motorcycle manufacturing business.

William it seems had a penchant for flat tanks and the horizontally opposed twin cylinder engine much as used by British motorcycle maker Douglas. George on the other hand wanted to embrace the modern style of motorcycle powered by a large capacity V-twin: something like a Harley-Davidson but with extraordinary attention to handling and quality control to go with the power. In a sense George wanted to build bikes that were in some respects like the Harleys and the Indians, but aimed at the “Rolls-Royce” top end of the market.

It’s important to note that at this time Indian and Harley were building somewhat different motorcycles to what they make today. The Indian Motorcycle factory team took the first three places in the 1911 Isle of Man TT and both companies built board track racing V-twin motorcycles capable of over 100 mph – a heady speed in the 1910s.

Brough Superior and “Brough Inferior”

George began his business with a determination to build motorcycles that were “superior”, not only to his father’s machines but superior to every other motorcycle being made: when told that George was going to call his motorcycles “Brough Superior” his father William stated “I suppose that makes mine the Brough Inferior!”

Notwithstanding the family rivalry George was provided with £1,000, his share in the family business and he invested that in purchasing a suitable piece of land in Haydn Road, Nottingham, and on erecting a single story workshop on it.

Above Image: The Brough Superior works, George Brough is on the far left.

In 1919 George made his first Brough Superior motorcycle and then, in time for Christmas of 1920, began offering a model that was purpose designed to stand out from everything else on the market. This first Brough Superior was handmade, like a Rolls-Royce, bespoke, like a London “best” gun or double rifle from the likes of Purdey or Holland & Holland. This was a motorcycle created to appeal to the wealthy upper class, and made to become a fashion icon, having a 1920’s “coolness factor” even before the notion of “cool” was invented.

Its important to mention at this point that George Brough had well developed mature ideas as to what an ideal motorcycle should be: he had been riding in competition since 1906 and had learned a great deal both from experience and from talking with various competitors and makers, so his thinking was well developed. This meant that he had a strong knowledge base and expertise foundation on which to design his own machines. He built the motorcycles he would want to ride. He did not employ “market research”, he already knew what a truly great motorcycle should be whether the market wanted it or not. So he did not follow fashion, he set the fashion and left others in his dust to imitate and try to catch up.

He was fond of quoting from Rudyard Kipling’s “The Mary Gloster”

“They copied all they could follow

But they couldn’t copy my mind

And I left ’em sweating and a’stealing

A year and a half behind.”

George Brough’s first Superior motorcycle followed the design specification he would keep close to throughout the two decades of manufacture. The main engine offering of this first model was a V-twin 986cc OHV JAP (J.A. Prestwich) as were used on a number of other rival motorcycles: the 1921 Coventry Eagle would follow this pattern for example. The JAP engine breathed through an Amac carburetor and was given its spark by an ML magneto.

George Brough had not yet completely settled on the JAP V-twin at that point however and also offered the unusual Barr & Stroud V-twin sleeve-valve engine of 999cc capacity. Although a sleeve-valve engine might sound like a curious option it is worth remembering that the exotic and prestigious Avions Voisin luxury cars of the 1920’s were using sleeve-valve engines because of their silence in operation. In addition to this Brough also offered the Swiss Motosacoche (MAG) IOE engine (Inlet Over Exhaust, which has an overhead inlet valve and a side exhaust valve: otherwise known as an “F” head) in either 733cc or 993cc: a Swiss engine could be sold on the idea that it was “made like a Swiss watch”. The gearbox was a three speed Sturmey-Archer and the bike’s tube steel frame was fitted with Montgomery front forks.

Over the period from 1919 up until 1922 George Brough’s business was still finding its feet and making a name for itself. Various models were made and offered including OHV and side-valve versions of his Mark I, Standard and Sports models of his Mark II, an OHV 500cc, a side-valve 680cc Junior, and a 750cc side-valve.

The observant will already have noticed that George Brough was using major components from other manufacturers, as were most of his lower priced competitors. What then was his justification for the high price of his motorcycles, how did he sell the idea that his bikes were indeed “Superior”?

George Brough was skilled at marketing and he put the effort in to have his parts made to special order, and would go to the extreme of assembling a motorcycle twice; the first build for testing and ensuring all parts fitted perfectly, then the bike was stripped down, painting and parts plating would be done, and it would be finally assembled and tested. His big selling point was superiority in quality control. Just as when you went to Rolls-Royce for a car, or James Purdey & Sons for a gun you knew you were getting the best that money could buy, that no expense had been spared in making it as close to perfect as human engineering can accomplish.

Enter the Brough Superior “Super Sports” Models

It had not been long after he set up his business that George Brough got to work on his ideal motorcycle, the bike that was to become his “Super Sports” model. In his development work he built a very lightweight low framed bike, and installed it with a JAP side-valve in a high state of tune.

He named it “spit and polish” (because he kept it spotlessly clean and polished) and took it to Brooklands where he proceeded to lap the circuit at over 100mph making this the first side-valve motorcycle to accomplish such a feat. Having won a five lap race he got going in a subsequent race but his front tyre parted company with the rim while he was going flat out with the result that George and the bike parted company and George reputedly set a new Brooklands record: that for the furthest slide on one’s backside. Happily for George it was the tyre that failed, not the bike, and he was able to walk away from the crash: as pilots say “Any landing you can walk away from is a good landing”.

Undefeated, and now just a bit more famous, George built another even lighter bike, a bike so lightly constructed it needed external struts from ahead of the crankcase to the rear spindle to ensure it would not bend under engine power when the throttle was opened up. The little beast was nicknamed “Old Bill” after Bruce Bairnsfather’s cartoon character of the First World War.

The racing bikes served the purpose of making Brough Superior into a household name and helped launch the first of the production series, which was ready for production by 1922 and was introduced to the public as the Brough Superior SS80, the “80” denoting that it was guaranteed to achieve or exceed 80mph. Brough had his own in-house test riders who would take each machine out and ensure that it would make its advertised speed in a quarter mile.

The SS80 was powered by a side-valve 988cc/60.3 cu. in. JAP V-twin engine and was made in standard and “De Luxe” versions. The De Luxe SS80 featured rear suspension which was in some ways similar in concept to that which would be seen on the Vincent motorcycles of 1927 onwards.

But the SS80 was not to be the last word in Brough Superior motorcycles: Brough knew that 80mph was not going to be enough to keep up with the competition and thus that he would need to create a model guaranteed to be able to do “the ton” or 100mph.

It was in 1923 that motorcycle journalist H. D. Teague of “The Motorcycle” did a road test of an SS80 and in his article described it as “The Rolls-Royce of Motorcycles”. This was one of the nicest accolades George Brough could have hoped to receive and he promptly began to use it in all his advertising, although being careful to attribute the quote just in case the gentlemen at Rolls-Royce decided to get upset about it.

As it turned out the gentlemen over at Rolls-Royce were a bit miffed and let George Brough know of their discontent. George invited them over to have a look at how Brough Superior motorcycles were made and on the day of their visit the workshop was immaculate, and the Rolls-Royce men were greeted by the sight of nice young men in clean white coats building these “Rolls-Royce of motorcycles” with meticulous care. The Rolls-Royce men were so impressed that they said that George was welcome to refer to his bikes as “The Rolls-Royce of motorcycles”, and so he did.

The Brough Superior SS100

It was a combination of three men, George Brough, engine designer Val Page, and Swiss motorcycle racer and engine tuner Bert le Vack, who’s talents came together to create the next and greatest of the Brough Superior motorcycles. At this point in history, for four years in the early to mid 1920’s, le Vack worked with Val Page at JAP to build a large capacity V-twin, an engine to beat the American V-twins from Indian and Harley-Davidson. While Val Page was the engine designer le Vack was a tuning and fuel blending expert. The project was to build a “Yank Buster” V-twin engine with overhead valves. The resulting 1924 JAP 8/45 was a 986cc OHV V-twin which was tuned by le Vack to become the JAP “Super Big Twin”.

In 1924 Bert le Vack and George Brough put together a motorcycle around a specially tuned 867cc JAP OHV “Super Big Twin” engine. The bike was fitted with parts from other suppliers as were Brough Superior bikes generally including front forks that were straight out of a Harley-Davidson.

In order to ensure this bike would stand out as a Brough Superior George Brough ensured its was fitted with the trademark Brough Superior fuel tank so there was no mistaking what bike it was. This bike was taken by le Vack up to a crisp record breaking 118.93mph at Arpajon. George Brough now had an engine at his disposal that could propel a Brough Superior to at least 100mph, the SS100 was born.

George Brough worked on the SS100 prototype to ensure it was a bike that would handle and stop well. To this end the front and rear brakes were upgraded to drums with decent stopping power. The resulting motorcycle was a work of visual art as well as being one of, if not the, best handling and fastest motocycle’s the world had seen up to that point in history. The SS100 made its debut in the 1925 Brough Superior catalog and was described as being “an exact replica of the Brough Superior ridden by H. le Vack when capturing 9 world’s records including the fastest speeds ever accomplished on a motor cycle – 123 m.p.h. SOLO and 103 sidecar.”

Once the SS100 was established George Brough decided to try his hand at a world speed record. George got together with a man named Freddie Dixon and between them they built a special purpose SS100 on a shortened frame with the newest long stroke JAP V-twin. Freddie Dixon took it for an outing at Brooklands and managed 103mph for five miles. George then took the bike to Arpajon in 1928 to see what he could accomplish. He almost succeeded: he managed a one-way run of 130mph, making him the fastest man on two wheels, but on the return run a piston failed bringing his record breaking to an unexpected end, because to officially obtain a world record a two way run was required. The bike was taken back to Britain and re-built, and then Bert le Vack took it back to Arpajon the following year and achieved a two way run of 129mph, and a new world record.

Brough Superior SS100 – Models and Specifications

The Brough SS100 was offered in three main models; the SS100, the SS100 AGS “Alpine Grand Sports”, and the SS100 “Pendine”. All were fitted with JAP engines up until 1936 when Brough progressively made the switch to Matchless engines. JAP engined bikes continued to be made up until 1938.

The Brough Superior SS100 was fitted with four stroke, four camshaft, JAP OHV 50° V-twin engines from 980cc up to 996cc capacity depending on model variant. As all Brough Superior SS100 bikes were made bespoke to customer order there are many variations possible and it has been said that no two were identical. When a customer came in to order a Brough the process was very much like that experienced by a customer who went to one of London’s “best” gunmakers. The customer was measured as if for a custom gun or Saville Row suit. The shape, length and position of the handlebars and controls were custom fitted to the customer so the bike would feel as if it fit them “like a glove”, because it was made to do so. Other options included such things as an unsprung or sprung frame and various other fitments.

Three main variants of the engine were the JAP 980cc 8/45, the 996cc JTOR-JAP 8/50, and the 996cc JTOS-JAP 8/75 which was fitted to the SS100 Alpine Grand Sports beginning in 1934. The JTOS-JAP 8/75 was known as the “two of everything” because it was fitted with two magnetos and two oil pumps. The use of dual systems was quite common in the highest quality motor cars of the 1920s and 1930s and so such use in the Alpine Grand Sports provided it with an even higher degree of fail-safe reliability. The SS100 engine was mated to a “four stud” three speed Sturmey-Archer gearbox with chain final drive up until 1935 when the change was made to a Norton four speed gearbox.

The frame of the SS100 was a duplex cradle type with the option of either unsprung rear or a Deluxe model fitted with Brough’s patented sprung rear suspension. The front forks were Brough’s modified Harley-Davidson style Castle forks which he had patented in collaboration with Harold “Oily” Karslake.

Every SS100 came with a written guarantee that it had been ridden and tested to confirm it would do 100mph, for a period Bert le Vack was involved in tuning customer’s motorcycles and is known to have worked on some of “Lawrence of Arabia” T.E. Lawrence’s Broughs.

The model up from the standard SS100 was the SS100 “Alpine Grand Sports”. This bike was named after the Austrian Alpine Eight Days Trial and for the year of the SS100’s debut, 1925, George Brough along with Freddie Dixon and Austrian Champion Eddy Meyer competed on Brough Superior SS100’s.

The result of the 1925 Austrian Alpine Trial proved to be most satisfactory for Brough Superior with them winning no less than six cups including the one for “Best Performance”. The SS100 Alpine Grand Sports was fitted with a lower compression ratio engine to ensure it would happily cope with the variable quality of fuel that would be encountered while touring in the 1920s and 1930s: but these bikes were still guaranteed to be able to meet or exceed 100mph in a quarter mile.

The SS100 Alpine Grand Sports was offered with a number of optional extra cost fittings such as dual headlights and large pannier bags, but the sprung rear suspension was a standard fitting on this model as was a small fly screen and a pair of tool boxes.

The model of the SS100 for those looking for speed was the SS100 “Pendine”, named after Pendine Sands in Wales. Pendine Sands was a seven mile beach that provided a hard and almost perfectly flat surface better than many of the roads of the 1920’s. Pendine Sands was used as the track for the Welsh TT motorcycle trials from 1922 onwards and was also the site used by Sir Malcolm Campbell for his successful land speed record attempt in his 350hp Sunbeam record car “Bluebird”, in which he attained 146.16mph/235.22km/hr.

The SS100 Pendine made its debut in 1927 and was normally fitted with a rigid frame (no rear suspension), lightened for racing, typically with no lights, and with an engine in a higher state of tune with a high compression ratio that would require blended racing fuel. Each Pendine model was guaranteed to achieve 110mph in a quarter mile.

The standard engine for the SS100 Pendine was the 981cc JAP KTOR 8/45 twin cam engine with bevel drive magneto. Other engines were used however, the largest of which was an 1,150cc twin carburetor bike made to order for Eddy Meyer in 1927: the larger engine being permitted under racing rules in Austria where Meyer competed with that bike. A common engine for the Pendine was the 996cc JAP JTOR 8/50 producing 73hp @ 6,200rpm.

The Arrival of Vincent HRD, and the Final Version of the SS100

By the time the SS100 had been in production for ten years other motorcycle makers had not been idle. With the establishment of Vincent HRD in 1928 another visionary motorcycle designer, Philip Vincent, entered the scene and he was not one who was going to be playing catch up with George Brough, quite the reverse.

Vincent started out building motorcycles using Phil Vincent’s patented cantilever rear suspension with conventional girder front forks and he used JAP engines predominantly much as George Brough had done up until 1934. In that year Australian engineer Phil Irving joined the company and designed a new engine, resulting in Vincent making their own 500cc single cylinder engines. By 1936 Vincent had created their own in-house 998cc OHV V-twin engine and installed it in a motorcycle so advanced that it would take decades for others to catch up: the Vincent Rapide.

By comparison with the Brough Superior SS100 the Vincent Rapide boasted dual drum brakes front and rear as opposed to the Brough’s single drums, a superior suspension to go with its superior brakes, and a superior engine. The Vincent was built to just as high levels of quality control as the Brough which was not looking superior anymore.

That first Vincent Rapide engine featured external oil lines which led the motorcycle press to dub it “The plumber’s nightmare” and George Brough may have breathed a sigh of relief at that. But we suspect that with the arrival of the Vincent Rapide of 1936 George Brough realized that he was at risk of not being in front of the competition anymore, and that he would have to stop using his favourite Rudyard Kipling quote unless he could come up with a motorcycle that would be superior to everything else once more.

The 1935 Brough Superior SS100 made the move to a new engine, the 1,000cc Matchless V-twin OHV V-twin with a Norton four speed gearbox, but in other respects it was still faithful to the 1924 original. Only 102 of this last model SS100 would be built.

George Brough turned his attention to creating a motorcycle that would be superior to everything else once more and in 1938 unveiled his “Golden Dream” at the London Earls Court motorcycle show. The Brough Superior Golden Dream was powered by an “H” engine, which is essentially two horizontally opposed twin cylinder engines stacked one on top of the other with their crankshafts connected together by gears, this having the effect of providing perfect engine balance as the upper and lower banks of cylinders are counter-rotating. This 988cc engine was mated to either a three or four speed gearbox and shaft final drive.

The frame of the Golden Dream was essentially that of an SS100 but with Brough’s own version of a cantilever rear suspension replaced with a plunger type, while at the front he kept his familiar Harley-Davison-based Castle forks. It would prove to be an expensive failure and was not put into production.

The End of Brough Superior SS100 Production

By 1939 both George Brough and Phil Vincent were forced to turn their wonderfully creative minds away from building superior motorcycles because of the antics of a German with a Charlie Chaplin moustache who somehow managed to persuade the German people to give him absolute power. Lord Aston warned us that “All power tends to corrupt, and absolute power tends to corrupt absolutely” but perhaps because Lord Aston was British the German people did not take notice of his warning, but the British did. The result was World War II and Brough Superior found themselves making crankshafts for beautiful Rolls-Royce Merlin engines while Vincent were tasked with making munitions. The last ten Brough Superior SS100 bikes were made in 1940, and after that there would be no more.

By the end of the war in 1945 both George Brough and over at Vincent both Phil Vincent and Phil Irving, had been thinking about what they would create for the new post-war era. At Vincent the decision was taken to perfect the Rapide and improve on it which resulted in the creation of the Vincent Black Shadow, arguably the world’s first “superbike”, and a bike that was advertised as “the fastest motorcycle in the world”, and that it was.

George Brough took a different route and claimed that he could not find a suitable engine for his SS100, and so had to cease production. But perhaps there’s a story behind that claim: there of course was a British V-twin engine that would have been perfect for the SS100, and that was the Phil Irving designed Vincent V-twin that would power the post-war Rapide, Black Shadow, and Black Lightning. Vincent would very probably have been willing to build and supply engines for Brough Superior, they were willing to make engines for American motorcycle manufacturer Indian and built them a prototype. But George Brough knew that Vincent actually had the superior motorcycle and thus he could not admit defeat and get his engines from them. Instead he decided not to resume motorcycle production, and so the history of one of the most famous of all the motorcycles to emerge from Britain quietly ended.

Above Image: George Brough

Picture Credits: Brough Superior, Bonhams, RM Sotheby’s, JAP.

The post A Brief History of the Brough Superior SS100 – The World’s First Superbike appeared first on Silodrome.

source https://silodrome.com/brough-superior-ss100-history/

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robertkstone · 6 years

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Porsche 919 Hybrid Race Car Review: The Ultimate Harmony of Gas and Electric

I’m nearly flat on my back, buckled in, knees up, feet on the two pedals, staring at a dazzling array of switches, knobs, buttons, and dash display. In the unlikely event that the green light located to the upper right ever turns red and I must exit this vehicle post haste, I’m instructed to do the “hybrid long jump” from car to ground, lest I ground the chassis and be instantly fricasseed by a zillion volts of potential energy.

The very team that won the 24 Hours of Le Mans for three years straight is rolling me out of the garage and onto pit lane in one of the same mega-million-dollar marvels from those historic events: the Le Mans Prototype 1 Porsche 919 Hybrid.

The 919 Hybrid makes twice the power and twice the downforce of the used-to-feel-fast 911 GT cars I’m used to, at maybe 25 times the price.

Inches behind my head is a smallish 2.0-liter turbo V-4 delivering a largish 500 horsepower to the rear Michelin slicks. Ahead of me is an electric motor that variably adds up to 400 more horses to the front. Driving about 1,900 pounds of carbon fiber honeycomb and aluminum alloys … Do the math. About 80 percent of me is savoring the anticipation of the incredible opportunity to experience a close sibling of the fastest road racing car ever built. (We at Motor Trend are the only Americans of nine elite journalists invited to this event.) The other 20 percent of me wants my mommy. Don’t mess this up, I think quietly. Radio check, copy.

Car chief Olivier is 25 years younger than I, with a deadly serious countenance born of responsibility and professionalism. He calmly radios instructions to this skinny old dude he never met before, who is about to wheel his jewellike prize onto the Motorland Aragón circuit here in the Spanish countryside outside of Barcelona. Flat-out, should I so desire, he says. I so desire.

“Clutch in, start engine … pit speed limiter on … hold clutch, drive off on electric to 50 kph … slowly release clutch …” Whhhappp-pa-pa-pa-poppp. The revs max out for a moment before the now-fried clutch thunks into engagement. Olivier told me to drive full-throttle on the pit limiter, but lordy, not when leaving the pit, I discover. Keep calm, carry on, all’s well.

Fortunately, we journalists had first been sent to train on the simulator at Porsche Motorsport, Weissach. The Werksfahrer use it to learn new tracks and refine their considerable skills. I was one once—a factory driver—by the way, but pre-sim. Porsche requires that I dress in full race gear for the sake of realism, and the simulator uses a genuine 919 tub. It is mounted high on four hydraulic rams and faces a surround screen with a realistic portrayal of the Motorland circuit.

Video games in my day ranged from Pong to Pac Man to Asteroids, but all these years I’ve driven real cars for fun, not computer-generated images. Not that there’s anything wrong with that. I strap in, hoping to learn a bit about the circuit and the awesome racing machine but also a little leery of the coming Tilt-a-Whirl gyrations from the mechanical spider legs below.

I roll out of the virtual pit lane and follow the track, looking good. As speeds come up rapidly on the no-risk video display, so does the rate at which my stomach turns. The wraparound view swirls as I whip this thing into a corner, and my terra-firma brain protests through my tummy. The engineers graciously stop the hydraulic g-force imitations, and I bravely manage several more laps on static-seating video, until Turn 1 instigates a sudden gag reflex that almost gets away from me. “OK, got it, guys, thanks. Fresh air, please?”

On the actual track in Spain the next day, as I accelerate into the real Turn 1, I find that the video tutelage was very helpful. I have a nice head start on the track and the car’s otherworldly level of performance. The corners look very much the same, and my throttle settings and brake points work here in the real world, too. But the greatest benefit was that the simulator prepared me for the impossible cornering forces the 919 can generate. Like on the screen, I just put my foot down and keep pulling gears, brain squashed against the inside of my skull. With Motor Trend, I regularly test supercars that can easily top 1.0 g on the skidpad. Now try 3.4 g. It’s like living in a sped-up film. Ridiculous fake becomes shocking reality.

The steering is a yoke; round wheels are so passé. This is no drift car. Aero undertrays don’t work well sideways. Knobs under the central screen adjust the levels of traction control: front, rear, and connected. Two more knobs adjust boost (electric, in this case) and recup, or the level of regeneration. Four thumbwheels set entire car-system parameters, settings radioed in from a massive team of engineers in the pits and even back home in Weissach (another efficiency: less travel). In an effort to maintain driver involvement, regulations allow data telemetry from car to pit, but not the other way around. It’s old-school radio and of critical importance to winning.

Le Mans racing is all about efficiency, to increase its relevance and benefit to mankind. LMP1 racers are only allowed a set amount of energy per lap. Exceed it, and the car must slow to give it back in the next lap. So under braking, the hybrid system retrieves some of the energy that once accelerated the car (yes, like the Prius). One way the 919 does this is by “sailing.” With the oddest of sensations, the race car slows itself at the end of a long straight—of which there are several on an 8.0-mile lap of Le Mans—regenerating electric boost even before the driver brakes. It’s like a bungee cord stopping a free fall. This didn’t happen on the shorter stops.

Another fascinating innovation in efficiency is a why-didn’t-I-think-of-that addition to the 919’s turbo system. You’ve heard of a wastegate, right? It releases unneeded exhaust gases once your turbo has spooled up to your chosen boost level. Normally the exhaust is just piped around the turbo and into the atmosphere. Well, the brilliant Porsche scientists use that exhaust energy to drive a generator, sending the energy back into the liquid-cooled lithium-ion battery pack. They call it MGU-H, or motor generator unit—heat. This way, the car now charges under braking (which supplies 60 percent of the regen) and acceleration (which supplies the other 40 percent). It’s much more clever in effect than in name.

Electric boost is what elevates this racer above the crowd, but to win the races, it must be used in the most efficient fashion. Where might extra power pay off the most? At the beginning of the straights. The sooner the car gets the speed boost, the longer it pays off. Thus, the 919 would utterly explode off the slower corners, with a thrilling sensation of compression all over the body, through the first couple of gears. Then once it gets up to speed (about 170 mph, in our case), the voltage shuts down. The mere 500 ponies from gas alone feel like crawling, by contrast. I saw about 288 kph on the dash (almost 180 mph). At Le Mans, the car did 206 mph. And the 919 Evo did 216 when it set the Spa record.

The Evo version is responsible for the ultimate lap record recently set at Spa by factory driver Neel Jani, famously outpacing Formula 1. For those of you not well-versed in Porsche vernacular, this is not the same 919 that obliterated the Nurburgring lap record. That “tribute” car is an Evo version, whereas this 919 is a LeMans car.

An engineer’s dream, this project unleashed the surly bonds of racing regulations and allowed the team to turn everything up to 11. Screw efficiency: Turn up the turbo boost (for 720 hp), ultra-energize the battery pack (to 440), max out the aero, and go for it. Michelin even built special tires to endure the crushing tire loads in Eau Rouge’s devastatingly fast uphill right. #worldbeater

Porsche bravely chose the highest voltage possible under the FIA WEC regulations. The 800-volt system is not coincidentally the same as the developing Mission E concept road car and required pioneering efforts in handling the surging electrons of that level, in cooling, storage, and connections, system wide.

And why a V-4, you might wonder, after the great tradition of boxer engines? Packaging and aerodynamics. With efficiency as king, Porsche chose the design using the FIA regulations for the category. The 90-degree V configuration leaves more room below for tunnels and diffuser. It also works better with just one turbo; it’s closer to the exhaust from both sides. Porsche tags it as a steep-standing boxer engine. So there, traditionalists. Porsche claims the four-cylinder creates less drag, and it’s oversquare and big bore, which allows for bigger valves. It’s all-aluminum and extremely compact. It’s direct-injected, and at 40 percent, the most efficient engine in Porsche history. It sounds like no four-banger you’ve ever heard, erupting to life with a raw, angry, gravelly tone that’s all business and demands respect. Next-gen 718, perhaps?

When I drove the 919 Hybrid, my greatest challenge was reaching beyond belief to neck-straining grip levels well above anything I had ever experienced. I worked hard to convince my foot to stay planted on the gas through the fast bits the way I had in the safe isolation of the simulator. That is, until I half-spun in the slower Turn 1 from too much entry speed combined with too-early throttle, the data showing it in the glaring light of truth. Downforce increases exponentially with speed, so one must adjust in second gear after being taunted to push harder by the incredible stick developed in fifth. And it’s the same with brake pressure: There’s monstrous initial pressure, then backing on the pedal as speed comes off when about to turn in.

Overall, driving such a successful and complex technological wonder is like having all your on-track prayers answered; it’s like being transported to a new dimension of performance. The 919 Hybrid showcased Porsche’s talents in the boiling cauldron of top-level racing competition, with cutting-edge developments that actually benefit its future products for street-driving consumers, in both high performance and energy efficiency. I call that a win, on track and on the street, especially for enthusiasts like us.

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