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everythingne · 2 months

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out of the woods, 5 (ls2)

With clear favoritism boosting all of Ferrari's tactics, Dhanishka makes a difficult decision after a crash causes her to see the true colors of her team. Logan sweeps in to save the day.

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warnings/notes: mistreatment of Dhanishka by Ferrari, car accidents with very minor injuries, this chapter was originally twice the length.... i had to cut half of it for next chapter LMAO, wrote this instead of doing my finals !

(ch4) (ch6)

The little room they've shoved us all into for media is more crowded than I want it to be. The Chinese GP was off to a rocky start already, with downpour rains all day on Thursday. I'm looking for Charles, turned in on myself even in the room full of flashing lights as I try to hide from the world. I want nothing to do with media. I know its going to be a shit show, and my stomach churns and knots until I make eye contact with Logan across the room. A weird wave of calm hits me, before its also sprinkled with anixety.

We haven't spoke since he kicked me out.

I swallow my pride and smile at him, and though I note his smile isn't full, he does still return one. I can tell he senses my apprehension as he nods, and he excuses himself from Oscar and Alex's sides to cross the small, cramped room. I manage to slip through a wall of reporters surrounding Max, nearly being shoved aside before I'm grabbed and pulled and into the firm protective hold of Logan. Instinctively, his arm wraps tight around my waist as he brings me to his chest. My hands find his shoulders and slide across in a hug as he leans his head down to whisper,

"You look terrified, Isa." His hand squeezes my waist and leaves the skin tingly, as if he's shocked it with little electrodes hidden in his finger tips. All his lingering touches feel like that, they have since I was seventeen.

"I am." I say back to him as I pull back from the hug just enough for us to look at eachother, "It's first media day after we announced this whole... thing."

Logan nods and then sighs, bringing the hand thats not still clutching my waist up to comb through his hair, "This is probably the worst possible time to bring that up, but I'm sorry for just..."

He trails off and before he can finish, I shake my head softly and give him the tiniest reassuring smile I can muster. He quiets at the soft expression on my face as I bring one hand down from his shoulders to pat his forearm, before squeezing it as I speak,

"No, Logan. I should've told you from the beginning what I wanted. It was wrong of me to string you along like that," and I hesitate before adding, "I don't regret it, if you're scared about that, too."

He seems taken aback by my apology, but before we can say more, we're split apart by media duties. I try to turn back to say something when he grabs my wrist to pull me back to him and from Charles, who turns back with a confused look. Even I'm confused, before I'm laughing as Logan's planting a goodbye kiss on my cheek with a softy murmur of 'keeping up the look.' And no matter how hard I try, I can't find a logical defense for my blush.

So of course, Charles teases me about it, which is caught on nearly every camera in our direction as we're brought to the little media pen this time. Luckily out of the grabbing range of asshole reporters and the people who want a headline.

And the first reporter for me is luckily The Ophelia Piastri.

"Danny..!" She sings, handing me a microphone labeled 'VOGUE' as she steps in, ever so elegantly, next to me.

"Hi, Ophie." I smile, leaning in to give her a tight hug. Luckily during media I didn't have to wear my team uniform, so I had been dressed to the nines in the white and red Ferrari dress-jacket-thing, with the little cape thing on the back. I knew I looked good, which is why I assumed Ophelia had grabbed me before she went off to find Lewis.

"Since we last spoke, quite a bit has happened, but lets talk about this outfit?"

"So, this is Ferrari, of course. I cannot remember the name of the jacket for the life of me. It's a white leather trench coat with a red silk trim, Ferrari's black boots with, of course, the red trim, and a black Ferrari purse. I am completely Ferrari today."

"You look stunning, the red of the Ferrari suits has always looked good on your but this pop? Stunning, brilliant, we love to see it."

Her interview is a bit longer than I'm expecting, mostly because we keep getting off track, and then I'm pulled away and into the mass of the boring, normal interviews.

It's Sky News who comes to be annoying, some reporter I don’t recognize. I glance over to Logan, who is on my left side down a bit in the media pen and find him staring. He looks away quickly and I bite back a laugh as Charles knocks my shoulder with his to keep me paying attention. I miss the reporter introducing himself but don’t miss the way Charles tightens his grip on my wrist.

“Any specific reason you were spotted in London last weekend?” The man asks me, holding the microphone towards me and I shrug with a tiny smile.

“Just making some visits to my friends, is all. I also had some media responsibilities.” I reply calmly and catch Logan’s eye again, this time my look lingers long enough to see him try to mouth something to me before the reporter talking pulls me away again.

“A certain driver seems to have caught your eye, though, are we correct to assume there’s some heat between you and a certain Williams driver?” The man smiles almost predatory and Charles taps the back of my arm to signal me to move back as he eyes the reporter with a confused look. As I fall back, I let a soft laugh tumble out of my lips as I realize it’s fucking Anthony Davis and that’s why both Logan and Charles have stopped to watch.

“Thought my instagram post was pretty clear,” I chime once I find my footing and push my emotions back, “if that hallway stuff you released to press as blackmail against Logan to do that interview with you wasn’t already enough.”

Charles is staring like I’ve just cursed this man out, I think I can hear Lando laughing somewhere off to the side.

“We’re done with you, thanks sir, make sure to tell David I said hi.” I grin forcibly, watching as Anthony’s face grows in anger. Charles steps between us, asking Anthony to leave and I allow myself a reprieve here to look around. Logan gives me a little smile and an appreciative nod, which I return, before I’m being pulled away by PR.

Qualifying brings back Ferrari’s curse.

Charles tires go and he nearly crashes out right before the end and my back wing is broken by the time I’m done. With the challenges we faced, we both do qualify higher than expected which does make me feel a bit better.

After standing and talking about the car and strategy for way too long, I’m let loose to the solstice of my drivers room. The pristine and almost shockingly tidy room is a safe haven as most the chaos of this weekend and I allow myself to relax as I slowly get myself undone from the race.

I change and take my hair out of its now frizzy braid, taking the time to brush it as I stick my head under the sink faucet to wet my hair. I’m wringing it out as I hear a knock on my door.

“Come in!” I call, grabbing a towel to place over my shoulders as the door pops open and I’m greeted with the soon to be Norris’ couple.

I gawk, “How did you both get in here?”

“Charles owed me a favor for all the times I’ve snuck him into Red Bull.” Olivia shrugs as she pops her purse down next to me on the couch, “and Lando doesn’t like me walking the paddocks by myself anymore.”

“That fucking reporter.”

“Don’t.” Olivia points at Lando, who huffs, and she then crosses the room to sit next to me on the couch before Lando can snag the seat. Olivia continues to speak after pausing to sip her drink, “good take down of Anthony today, little debutante."

“Ah. Thank you.” I laugh softly, brushing my hair with the same red brush, eyes glancing over to Lando and Olivia as I try to keep my blush to a minimum. Olivia's soft compliment made my heart skip, as any praise did. It was hard to come by it in this sport and I was honestly happy it was Olivia who was supporting me like this.

“How’re you feeling? You did pretty good for a busted car. I saw how fucked that rear wing was when I was pulling in the pits after Q1.” Lando continues the conversation and I shrug, turning at Olivia's cue so she can start to braid my hair for me. It's weirdly like having my mom or sister do it, I hate how much it makes me miss home.

“It sucks I’m not higher. Wallahi, I'm so tired of this." I complain, rolling my eyes back as I try and keep myself calm. Frustration wouldn't get me anywhere here, "they’ve been harping on me all season about getting back to the level I was at in Bahrain. And they're acting as if every race since, I haven’t had terrible car issues! Sorry you guys fucked up my car!"

"Sounds like Ferrari." Olivia hums, "I think I've heard both Charles and Carlos say this same thing over the years."

"Maybe talk to Charles about it, he'd know Ferrari better than I would." Lando suggests, watching his fiance as she finishes off my braid and then squeezes my shoulders and pulling me back to rest on her chest as she lazily wraps her arms around me. Lando kicking his legs up to rest on my lap as he yawns into the back of his hand.

"I have been, he's been a huge help, but it's still ridiculous." I complain, smushed against Olivia's Red Bull tee as I close my eyes to fight off the stress migraine forming. I complain for a bit longer, Olivia convincing me to talk to Charles about my frustrations once again. But by the time I've gone off to find him, I notice his attention being held by Fred and some of the engineers. Even when I try to get him away, he's continuously pulled back with soft sorry's thrown over his red clad shoulders.

I go to bed that night with a migraine. The next day I nearly crash twice when my tires are too worn but they won't box me, and sulk in my drivers room after due to losing my podium position. Sure, I finished a lucky P9 for my car issues... but I was fighting with Max in P2 when my rear tires decided they hated me.

I ask so many times to be boxed. It’s not the first time they refuse to pull me into the pits, but it’s the most dangerous. I have no grip, I have nothing but prayers and maybe a bit of luck because I don’t crash out.

And when Aakash is not supportive over the radio, maybe I lose my cool, and maybe that’s what causes half the garage to give me the cold shoulder as I get out of the car. I do what’s needed, barely speak, don’t smile, and then retreat to my room with the hope of my anger dissipating.

When my frustrations don't wear off, even after I snag the treadmill to sprint until my legs are jello, I go to try and find Charles for our little private post-race debrief. I need him in this moment like a fish needs water, the debriefs we have been having being the only thing keeping me from losing my mind in Ferrari. I spot him in the garage still, but he's being held captive by the team. They engross themselves in deep plans for his racing, smiling and waving hands in excitement. I notice no one had come to grab me and swallow the sick feeling in my gut.

"What about Dhanishka?" Charles asks, eyes flickering over to meet mine and I feel the pull to enter the conversation until Fred shakes his head and squeezes his golden boys shoulder, saying,

"Dhanishka comes second to you, Charles. You are more important than some girl. We'll use her to help you..."

Fred's voice fades out as I swallow hard, my hands shaking immediately in a mix of rage and embarrassment. How could I have been so stupid?

And when Charles snaps his head up to meet my eyes after a moment, I've already turned to rush down the hall. Tears prick in my eyes at my own stupidity, that I felt like I belonged in this red building. Sure, it was something off hand, maybe he didn't mean it the way he said it, but it was enough to frustrate me to tears.

If I cry one more time before the end of May, someone might get strangled.

I retire to my hotel room early that night. Even when all I wanna do it party, I choose not to join anyone in the festivities, and ignore the mass amounts of messages blowing up my phone asking why I'm not at the after party. I ignore the world, let the sun set into black skies as I stay tucked in my bed--still in my fireproofs. I can't bring myself to move, a mix of anxiety in my gut and genuine pain in my body keeping me in the plush blankets. My parents call to congratulate me, I humor them with a tired smile and blame it on the time zones. I pretend I'm asleep when I see Anya tries to call me twice. I can't lie to her.

I have to ignore her so they think I'm doing fine. I can't worry them about me turning into the monster I had been after Trident again. But that monster claws at the restraints and slowly breaks them.

Hours later, not that I would know the time, someone knocks at my door. I ignore it, even as the muffled voices call for me and ask if I'm alright. I just stay still, tucked up to my chin in blankets, until someone scans a card in the door and begins to let themselves in. I jump, preparing to throw my phone in defense, when it's Danny who pops his head in.

"Just checking to see if you're alive, mini-me." He smiles, opening the door a bit more so from my vantage on the bed, I can see Charles and Logan behind him. I know they all see I'm still wearing everything I had on at the track, and I see remorse in Charles' eyes when he sees my state, but I shake it off.

"I have a bad migraine, but I'm alive." I say, choosing for that to be the reason as to why I was laying in the dark. Not because I felt too tired to get up to turn the light on, or that I felt my seventeen year old rage returning.

"Need anything?" Logan asks, feather soft, before the others can. I hate how I can see him noticing all my soft lines turning hard. I just sit there, then I shrug when I realize they're expecting an answer.

"Just some sleep. I'll see you guys next race weekend." I wave them off, yawning into the back of my hand. Logan steps into the door frame, welcoming himself in. I don't argue as he crosses the room to sit on the edge of my bed, pressing his hand to my temple.

"You're not sick." He murmurs, "just a stress migraine this time, then?"

"You--huh?" I blink and Logan smiles party, a soft blush on his cheeks only illuminated by the light in the hallway.

"You always get migraines when you're stressed or when you've got a fever, Isa." He squeezes my wrist, watching my face carefully, "If you don't feel hot when you have a migraine, it's just stress."

“It’s just… it’s been a rough weekend and I kinda snapped after the race ‘cause this migraine won’t go away.” I lie half now, Logan seems to buy it a bit more as he leans forward and gently pulls some of my stray hairs back behind my ears—settling them how he knows I like it.

“You did really well for all the issues you were having. Can’t beat yourself up over something you can’t control, Danny.” Daniel says from the doorway where he and Charles lean, I squint when I look towards them in the light and see while Danny looks full of concern—Charles looks sick.

“I know. It’s just been a hard adjustment.” I shrug and Logan nods.

“Adjustings a bitch.” he says and I laugh. About twenty minutes later they leave, after Charles runs down to grab a Doordash they force me to order. Logan calls me much later, telling me to sleep so I don’t feel like shit tomorrow.

We talk on the phone for so long he ends up sleeping in the same bed as me, arm wrapped loosely around my waist as my head is tucked in the crook of his neck. It’s safe. It’s definitely not platonic, but it’s safe, and it’s what I need.

So far it's been:

Bahrain, P3,

Saudi, P5,

Australia, P8,

Japan, P4,

China, P7,

and now it's Miami, where I land a solid P10 after Carlos clearly attempts to knock me off the track entirely and runs me into the gravel. I have to fight for my way back up from P20. I'm impressed with the run some of the back drivers give me (especially Haas and Alpine) but I'm frustrated in general with my finish.

Because what could've been more is fucked over when Carlos in P9 swings purposefully wide and damages my front wing.

"It's not fair!" I complain to Charles as I pace the length of my tiny drivers room, "I don't know what he has against me!"

"Isa," Charles sighs, running a hand through his hair, "Be proud of what you did accomplish, a wonderful ten place overtake in only seven or so laps! You did amazing tonight, even with that fuck up!"

"You've been podium every race except for Australia when Oscar beat you and Max." I snip, whipping around so hard my braid whacks the side of my face, "What I would do to be able to get up there... its just annoying some drivers have made it their agenda to get me off the track! Carlos has no reason to nearly knock me off the track multiple times today!"

"Carlos is frustrated Ferrari dropped him for you. He'll pretend to be amicable over at Mercedes but he's fucking miserable." Charles sighs, "Ferrari's been no help either, they've yet to pay him the rest of his contract."

"Well how is that my fault, Charles!" I ask, groaning softly as I bury my head in my hands and come to sit next to him. It's not like I had told Ferrari to pick me, it had been a huge surprise they had. Charles has no answer and I just huff and lean back into the couch's plush surface and hide my face.

"I'm miserable too." I complain into the air, and it's frustrating to admit it. Charles can tell I don't wanna talk about it, so he just pulls me to his side and lets me curl up there. I feel like a child, but I feel safe.

—

Miami proves to be more difficult than I expected.

I had qualified really well, starting in P4 with Max, Charles, and Lando ahead of me. I was holding my own during the race, but Ferrari wasn't clearing me to pass Charles to try and take P2. Which is honestly the least of my worries right now. Aakash has been non-exsistant on the radio today, barely answering as per usual. I was basically using my own strategy at this point, pulling off of tips I had been given by Charles for this track.

And everything is surprisingly going well.

“Woah!” I shout, turning clear of whoever is in the Alpine that’s stuck half off the gravel, I make some sort of contact but not enough to deter me, “Alpine is down on the track, hit him, I think front damage? Rear wing is still locked in DRS.”

“Understood. Possible red flag coming up, use these last seconds to try and secure position.” Aakash says into my headset and I reply back with a soft ‘copy’ as I go to turn normally but for some reason I find that I whip to the side—under steering hard. Luckily, by pure coincidence, it keeps Oscar behind me and secures a place in P3 behind Charles. But the car isn’t driveable in this state, extremely dangerous, and my hands shake as I struggle to press down my radio button while holding the wheel steady.

“My steering is going out!” I curse, trying to stabilize myself—waiting for a red flag or a safety or something. Where the fuck is this safety car for the crash?

“How bad is it?” Aakash asks and I grit my teeth as I pull into the next turn. I curse softly, breaking a bit harder than I need to but managing somehow to keep Oscar behind me. I think he knows to stay back, that something is clearly wrong,

“Terrible, terrible! I can’t fight like this!” I snap, groaning as we move now to a straightaway. Oscar comes to my left and I steer towards, Aakash is calling that the flag is flying and the safety car has been deployed, but my eyes are on Oscar as he tries to maneuver around the other side but I cut him off again—or try to.

I steer too hard, clipping the front of Oscar’s tire on the slick of the still drying Florida rain and spinning out. I feel the gravel as the car spins and then the world rocks when I hit the wall. I can't breathe for a moment, breath caught in my chest as I grip my seatbelts. No one calls over the radio for a moment, and then,

"Dhanishka, is the car okay?"

"Fuck you." Is my reply as I grab my restraints and slowly unclick them. It's agony to move as I take out my steering wheel and pop it on the top of the car, hoisting myself up and nearly buckling back down into the car in pure pain. I manage to get myself out by the time medics arrive, they take me to medical to get checked and it's like I'm not even worried about. No one from Ferrari comes to check on me.

I limp myself back to the paddock, guarded by McLaren employees and followed closely by Lando and Olivia--who is softly scolding the FIA in her phone. Her voice thick in frustration over Ferrari's dismissal of me, her hand on my lower back supporting me as I walk. Once they get me back to Ferrari, Olivia forces her way in to escort me to my drivers room.

And my migraine flares when Aakash knocks, entering my room. He's still got his headphones on, and I bite back about thirty insults as he crosses his arms.

"Feel better?"

"No." I huff, "and your precious car is fine."

"Listen, we're pushing you because we need you to be a better driver." The mechanic looks at me, arms taught over his chest and I wish it was still Ami in charge of my comms.

"I don't understand what you want from me!" I shout in frustration, my hand itching to throw my helmet across the room at him. I’m not violent, I never have been, I don’t understand why I’m so short of breath. It feels like the rage in my belly fights to be fed by all the oxygen in my lungs, my hands shaking as he slam my helmet down and punch the plush surface of my bedding.

“Dhanishka—“ Aakash tries and I whip around, pointing at him and watching his face fill with shock as I finally snap under the pressure of the weekend.

“No, listen to me! [You all love Charles, treat him like your golden child! He coughs and you all run to get medicine, but when I am out there and I am struggling and nearly dying, you do nothing! I fought with a broken wing and a fucked up steering wheel and what help did I get?!]” I snap at him in my mother tongue, watching his face fill with something like horror as I step even closer, “[None of you were there for me! You all went to coddle poor Charlie—he was fine! I was the one who suffered for you! Where is my help? You have all done this the whole season!]”

“[Charles was frustrated—]”

I cut Aakash off, screaming, “[And I nearly killed myself out there because none of you would help! Do you think I wasn’t also frustrated?!]”

“Listen, I—“

“Get the fuck out of my room! I’m not doing media! I’m going the fuck back to my hotel.” I snap and Aakash listens, quickly ducking out of the room. I rip off my suit and throw it in my bag and I get changed into my street clothing, only pausing to touch up my makeup. I pass by Charles coming back from podium with a cold shoulder and shove through the crowd to my car, digging out my keys and getting in. I sit there, hands tight on the wheel for a while, and my fingers start to go numb as I feel like my brain is shutting off and going into autopilot.

I just sit back and watch, like a movie goer, as the world around me fades in my mind.

I come back to my senses sharply, knees digging into the tile as I’m sitting on the floor in the bathroom. I can feel the remenants of a panic attack shaking off my limbs, leaving them staticky. My hands shaking at the slamming at the door to my hotel room.

“Isa!”

There’s only one man who calls me that.

I try to shout that I’m gonna let him in but the words are caught in my throat, and I hear him echo and think I’m going crazy as I whine into the bathroom air. Then I realize I’m clutching my phone tight enough to shatter the screen and Logan’s contact is up—blazing bright into my face.

“Lo…?” I wheeze and I hear him pause mid knock before he shuffles and—

“Isa?” He crackles into the phone screen and I nearly sob at the familiarity of his voice.

“I-Give me a second. I’m coming to the door.” I whisper, slowly raising to my feet and stumbling out into the hall as my senses fight to try and come back to me in full. My hands are numb when I un-deadbolt the door and I barely have enough time to step back after I pop the door open. In a flash, Logan is everything around me, tucking me against his chest, his hand carding through my hair, kicking the door shut behind us and sighing softly.

“Oh, Isa—“ He murmurs into my hair and I feel the numbness snap away in favor of tears as I bury into his grasp and sob. I have cried more since starting F1 than I have in my entire life.

“Oh, Isa, I’m so sorry they’ve turned you into me.” Logan presses his hands to either side of my face, lifting me back so I can look at him. I remember how a week ago I was afraid of loving him, how I was terrified I'd lose him, and yet here he was as stubborn and comforting as always.

"I can't do this Logan." I hiccup, letting him bring me into his arms once more, kisses trailing my forehead as he keeps me locked in tight, "I can't take another day of this comparing bullshit! They hate me, all of them in Ferrari. I don't even know if I still have Charles."

"Charles aactually spoke to me this morning about getting you out of Ferrari." Logan murmurs into my hair and I step back, wiping my face as I blink at him.

"What?"

"Ferrari is using you as a way to push Charles up and he hates it. He was seeing who is staying in what teams for next season. Alex might be moving, Williams might have an open seat, and I might've helped to convince them to write 'Dubey' on it." Logan wipes some tears I missed and smiles, kissing my forehead again and I lean into every soft touch of his, "Obviously, they still need to talk to you, but I can set up that meeting if you need help with that."

When I don't reply with words, but rather the quick press of my red lips to his, his eyes widen in shock and a giggle erupts from the back of my throat.

"Have I ever told you that you're amazing?" I whisper, watching blush peek on his cheeks as he wipes a few more tears from my splotchy face and grins.

"A few times, but I don't mind hearing it over and over again.” he grins.

f1 made a new post!

liked by oscarpiastri, anyadubey, logansargeant, and 697k others...

f1: hours after it was announced that @ scuderiaferrari is being investigated for mistreatment of @ dhanishkadubey, Dubey announced her departure from the team in the next season, citing 'differing opinions' as the reason for the split.

dhanishkadubey: love u tifosi thank u for an incredible rookie year so far <3

logansargeant: 👀

user1: run girl run

user2: that didn't take long.

charlesleclerc: je te souhaite le meilleur pour ton avenir, petite étoile xx

user3: WAIT?? IS SHE CONTRACTED FOR 2025 BC IT DOESNT SAY SHES LEAVING ENTIRELY??

user4: WHO IS TAKING MY POOKIE.

taglist (open, and thank you to those on it now!)

@chasing-liberosis @justsomejess @struggling-with-delia

#f1 fanfic #f1 smau #logan sargeant fic #logan sargeant fanfic #logan sargeant imagine #ls2 fanfiction #ls2 fanfic #ls2 fic

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f1 · 2 years

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F1 announces 24-race calendar for 2023 French GP out Monaco and Belgium set to stay

F1 announces 24-race calendar for 2023, French GP out, Monaco and Belgium set to stay By Balazs Szabo on 20 Sep 2022, 23:19 Formula 1 has announced the record-breaking 24-race calendar for the 2023 FIA Formula One World Championship, which has been approved by the World Motor Sport Council. The 2023 season will kick off on March 5 - an earlier start than usual - in Bahrain before heading to Saudi Arabia. Following the Australian Grand Prix, the Chinese Grand Prix will make its return for the first time since 2019 on April 16. The championship will then move to the United States of America for the second ever Miami Grand Prix before it heads back to Italy for the Emilia Romagna Grand Prix that will take place a week prior to Monaco. In the meanwhile, Formula 1 has also confirmed that it will continue to race in the Principality until 2025 after a new three-year agreement was finalised with the Automobile Club of Monaco (ACM). Michel Boeri, President of the Automobile Club of Monaco, added: “In the interest of the Formula One World Championship, and after several months of negotiations, we are proud to announce that we have signed a three-year agreement with Formula One, and likely to be renewed.” Following the Monaco Grand Prix, the field will move to Barcelona for the Spanish Grand Prix before making the long trip to Canada. Austria will move forward by a week, kicking off the intense month of July that will incororate four races within just five weeks. Great Britain will be next on the schedule before the championship will pop up in Hungary with the Hungarian Grand Prix losing the spot of the last race before the summer break which will now be occupied by Belgium. Atter the restart, the Dutch Grand Prix will kick off the third leg of the season with the Italian Grand Prix twinned with Zandvoort. Singapore and Japan are set to host races at the end of September before Qatar returns on the 8th of October. The USA will host its second race in Texas at the end of October before the field makes the relatively short trip to Mexico. Following the Brazilian Grand Prix at Sao Paulo, Las Vegas will make its debut on November 18 - round 23 of the calendar, just before the finale in Abu Dhabi. Scheduled to take place in Las Vegas the week before Thanksgiving on November 18, the Las Vegas Grand Prix will see unprecedented levels of F1 activity and events, with Practice on Thursday, November 16 and Qualifying on Friday, November 17, ahead of the Saturday night race. Taking place at night against the iconic Las Vegas backdrop, the track will see drivers reach jaw-droppingpeeds of over 340kph as they race around some of the world’s most iconic landmarks, hotels and casinos on the legendary Las Vegas Strip. Speaking of the announcement of the calendar, Formula 1 CEO and President Stefano Domenicali said: “We are excited to announce the 2023 calendar with 24 races around the world. Formula 1 has unprecedented demand to host races and it is important we get the balance right for the entire sport. “We are very pleased with the strong momentum Formula 1 continues to experience and it is great news that we will be able to bring our passionate fans a mix of exciting new locations such as Las Vegas to the Championship with much loved venues across Europe, Asia and the Americas.” Speaking about the new calendar, FIA President Mohammed Ben Sulayem, said: “The presence of 24 races on the 2023 FIA Formula One World Championship calendar is further evidence of the growth and appeal of the sport on a global scale. "The addition of new venues and the retention of traditional events underlines the FIA’s sound stewardship of the sport. I am delighted that we will be able to take Formula 1’s new era of exciting racing, created by the FIA’s 2022 Regulations, to a broader fan base in 2023. In framing the 2023 F1 calendar, WMSC Members have also been mindful of the timing of the prestigious 24 Hours of Le Mans.” via F1Technical.net . Motorsport news https://www.f1technical.net/news/

#F1 #F1 announces 24-race calendar for 2023 #French GP out #Monaco and Belgium set to stay #Formula 1

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laowai-on-a-bike · 3 years

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Yinzu, Yinzu, Yinzu… these words echoed endlessly in my head. It all started when I was back from Jiu Gong Mountain, on the highway with my friend Freddy. I was impressed to admire such beautiful landscapes so close to Wuhan. It's weird that we are always drawn to faraway destinations, like Yunnnan, Guizhou or Sichuan provinces but ultimately, there are already plenty of places to explore near our home.

Besides, I will be moving to Guangzhou soon so I might as well explore the area before leaving. And then, starting a bike tour directly from home without the hassle of bringing your bike to a distant destination by train or bus or by mail is really much more convenient. Well, I'm already digressing...

At one point on the highway, then, an exit sign appeared with the name "Yinzu" written on it. I didn't know why, but I was immediately drawn to the name, maybe because it sounds good, I don't know. And then the obsession started: "I'll go by bike to Yinzu". I didn't even know what Yinzu was: a village? A town? Regardless, it seemed like a good pretext for an adventure.

Then Freddy, who speaks Chinese much better than me, managed to find the name in Chinese character. Yinzu was there, on my Baidu Map app (equivalent to Google Map in China), 90 kilometers away from Wuhan. Ideas for routes were starting to take shape in my head for some time.

In the middle of June, I was having a three days weekend for the Dragon Boat Festival so I said to myself: "Yinzu, I'm coming"!

One day before leaving, I checked the weather forecast: they announced rain for 3 days and a very hot weather (33-35 degrees) ... Ouch ... But, if we are still waiting for the right moment to leave, we will never go on a tour right? “It's raining”, “it's too hot”, “it’s too humid”: these are no excuses! Especially in the Wuhan region, where there are only two seasons (very hot and humid or cold): that doesn't leave many opportunities to ride if we wait for the perfect weather. So I decided to leave, raining or not.

The last time I rode my bike in bad weather, I wasn't prepared. I ended up with plastic bags around my shoes and a soaked underwear. After this experience, I had searched the internet for the perfect solution to ride in the rain. Overshoes? Good brand raincoat? 10 yuan plastic poncho from street grocery stores? The solution finally came from my British friend Jack: "You must embrace the rain ! Just remove your shirt and ride in sandals"! He was not wrong: in fact, why bother ? Especially with temperatures around 35 degrees, you are dry in 5 minutes ... So I grabbed a 15 Yuan rain shorts (a kind of ugly short made by trash bag material) because I don't like having my underwear wet - yes I know, I'm a little princess -, Decathlon sandals, and for the t-shirt, well… I'm really not a fan of riding with a cycling jersey, so a punk band tee-shirt will have to do !

The day before departure, I loaded my two bike rack bags, I took food (oatmeal and dried fruits for breakfast, and some dehydrated dishes), some clothes, a raincoat which in the end I didn’t use, an Italian coffee maker (instant coffee, no thanks), repairing tools, then equipment for camping (tent, sleeping bag, mattress etc.). Sleeping in a hotel is for a looser, I am a real adventurer... well that's what I thought before leaving…

Sunday 8 am, departure. It didn't seem to be raining, so now was a good time to go. The first 50 km were on a big dusty expressway, I could feel that I was in the suburbs of Wuhan: here and there, construction sites, bridges and roads under construction. I hadn't done 30 km before my bike was already very dusty. No problem, it gives me a feeling of adventure.

The Expressways in China are widely used by trucks… not necessarily super fun to ride, but it allows you to get out of town quickly. Well, positive note, the roads are often very wide here and you really have room to ride. I was trying not to think about the trucks and enjoy my trip, much like when your buddy is snoring next to you, if you start to think about it too much, you will go crazy and it will be impossible to think of anything else. But everything went very well and I never felt unsafe on the road during the whole trip.

The advantage of going on a short 3-day test trip is I learned a lot.

First lesson of this trip: do not trust the weather forecast. The rain they predicted? I hardly saw it… In fact, it was under a blazing sun that I had to ride the entire trip. They have an easy job, those weather broadcasting guys! Basically they write that there's a 50% chance that it will rain… not a big risk-taking on their part…

So finally, I rode in the blazing sun, and on an express way, there wasn't a single patch of shade. The sun hit hard! As I had already tanned well on my previous bike trips, I figured that I was not too prone to sunburn.

Second lesson: always wear sunscreen, even if you already had sunburns before! And above all, do not wait until you are sweating to put it on, otherwise, it makes a kind of mixture between sticky perspiration, sunscreen and dust...

Well, the sun didn't worry me more than that, at worst a sunburn. ... it was more in terms of hydration that I had to be careful. So I decided to tape bottles on the frame of the bike. DIY spirit! I also had with me some rehydrating powder to add to the water, since you lose a lot of salt with perspiration.

Anyway, I rode like that for quite a long time, and on the way, I passed a little hand-built house where people were selling water. Seeing me sweating heavily, they invited me to sit on a stool placed in front of a fan. So it was true: when people see a cyclist arriving on a trip, moreover a foreigner coming out of nowhere, smiles and kindness appear.

We talked a bit about the usual topics: Where are you from? What is your job? Are you married? What are you doing here? Then, after a few minutes, the father invited me to eat. At first I politely refused, but eventually I gave in. It is heartwarming to see the hospitality of the people especially at this time, when many Chinese people are scared to see a foreigner, thinking he may have brought covid-19 from abroad. It’s a bit tiring sometimes to see people pinch their noses when they see me on the street, I have to admit. But not at all here. They apologized for only offering me vegetable dishes, no meat, but in fact I was more than happy to eat fresh vegetables from their garden. We chatted about everything and nothing during the meal and it was already time to leave. I would have liked to drink beers longer, but I hadn't come to get drunk. I had a trip planned: Yinzu was waiting for me.

I got back on this big road but after a few kilometers I started to wonder. I hadn't come to go for kilometers on a boring road while being shaken by trucks ... Hence my third lesson of this trip: prepare your route well. Basically there are different types of roads in China that start with a letter: the S and G are the expressways where there are a lot of trucks, little shade, but that has the advantage of going straight and faster. Perfect for traveling for kilometers quickly and out of cities. But the X and Y are much more interesting country roads. Even if it takes detours, it is a change of scenery guaranteed. After these three days of biking, I learned that you have to know the right balance: ride the expressways to go quickly and far, especially when the landscapes are uninteresting. And take the small roads to ride peacefully, to discover rural life and be amazed by the landscapes.

So I changed my route on the GPS. Good decision: I crossed my first rice fields and I was finally over the moon.

Gradually, the landscape started to be really amazing and the colors of the landscapes became greener and greener.

Further on, I began to see mountains in the distance. It was my destination, it was these landscapes that made me want to go to Yinzu !!! The trip was finally starting to make sense. I was as excited as a kid over his Christmas present and all my doubts melted away

I rode like this all afternoon, with a smile on my face, despite the scorching heat.

Gradually, I began to wonder about where to sleep. I am always on the lookout when I ride, looking to see if there is a possibility of wild camping.

Lesson number 4: the rice fields are beautiful in photos but not ideal for camping ... It is not always easy to find a flat and, moreover, hidden place to have a good quiet night's sleep. The rural countryside is incredibly dense with crops and cultivated fields, so it's really not that easy to find a spot to camp. The solution might be to ask people in the area. Well anyway, I was heading to Yinzu and I could decide there.

I arrive near a pagoda and a temple in the middle of nowhere, on the way. What is that ? I asked a passerby, she reply "nothing". I thought she must have been surprised to find herself face to face with a smelly foreigner on a bicycle and told herself that I don't speak Chinese. In fact she was right: the buildings were completely empty, probably a future hotel still under construction.

Finally, a Yinzu sign. I was approaching my goal, but what exactly? I didn't even know what Yinzu was ...

So finally, Yinzu, is a small town which consists of a big main street with its restaurants, its stores. Everyone is surprised to see me there and I have fun seeing children speechless when they meet my eyes: "What can this foreigner on a bicycle be doing here?" I was so excited to have arrived at my destination that I didn't even take a photo of the city. I would also have liked to take pictures of people, but I didn't dare to do it.

I had to make a decision. Get out of Yinzu and find a place to sleep in the wild - I was still quite exhausted from the day's travel and the sunburns - or go and try to check in at the only hotel in the area. I say "try" because not many Chinese know it, but in China, many hotels do not accept foreigners. It is not really out of racism. No one really knows the reason: some say that cheap hotels do not have the computer system to register foreigners, others think that China wants to show only beautiful things to foreign tourists and they must therefore go to beautiful 4 star hotels. Well, I'm not criticizing, it's like that here and I accept it but it's still frustrating to live 15 years in a country, to work there, to be married there and to be refused in a hotel because you're a foreigner…

It makes it hard to plan a bike trip if you're not even sure you can find a place to sleep.

Anyway, whoever tries nothing has nothing and finally, I walked to the hotel without really believing it. The owner who ran the establishment did not even ask a question. I told him that I am a foreigner (sometimes people think I am from Xinjiang Province) just in case. He asked me if I had a Chinese identity card, but I replied with a smile that I only have a passport, that I came from Wuhan by bicycle and that if he wants, I have a photo of my Chinese wife's ID card. But he was very nice and gives me the room card, chatted a bit and even offered me tea.

I went upstairs to take a well-deserved shower. I was really sticky ... I realized that the sun had scorched me today ...

Lesson number 5: apply sunscreen everywhere, including your feet!

I was still a little disappointed with myself. Watching videos of people cycling around the world and camping in nature every night, I told myself that going to sleep at a hotel is a bit cheating, isn't it? But after 5 minutes under the air conditioning, I told myself that it was not that bad in the end. I travel for myself, not for others, and after a little over 100 kilometers in the day, I admit that a shower and a good bed made me feel good. Too bad for my adventurous soul...

I went out to eat something. In the street, I had the impression to rediscover the feeling that I had had when I arrived in China in 2006. It is a felling rather hard to explain. Once again, may be the surprise of people who greeted me with a warm "hello" and wanted to take a photo with me, or the number of street foods vendors who are hard to find in big cities nowadays. I ate a bowl of Lanzhou noodles, returned to the hotel and quickly fell asleep.

The next day, I woke up feeling very tired. It was undoubtedly linked to the heat stroke of the day before. My feet didn't hurt too much. I had few small blisters on my knees but it could have been worse. I told myself that I shouldn't hang around too much. Better ride early to avoid the heat of the day. By arranging my things scattered all over the place and loading the panniers on the bike, I was already sweating profusely… The day was going to be hot… I put on sunscreen (I had understood my mistake of the day before). I decided to go towards Wuhan but not by the same road because it is boring to take the same route as on the way there. There is a big lake 50 km south of Wuhan, which is perfect because I have never been there before.

The road to the lake was once again beautiful. I passed through villages and small towns, lakes, rice paddies, cornfields. Such a nice place to ride a bike.

Every now and then, I chatted with people at a gas station, or with a watermelon vendor who kindly offered me his stool to eat in the shade and chatted with me.

It was still very hot, but the sun was not too strong. In fact, I can handle the heat really well. I can ride in high temperatures with no problem but on the other hand, when the sun is burning my skin, it's really hard for me, especially from 10 am to 4 pm.

While riding under the sun, I was wondering about my next trips. Since I got back to cycling, I have dreamed of doing part of the Silk Road by bike from Lanzhou to Dunghung in Gansu Province, basically a road through the desert (with cities between). I was starting to realize that my dream was not going to be so easy to achieve. How to ride all day without shade? I guess someone should really be prepare for a trip like that.

I tell myself that in the end, I was smart enough not to jump straight into such a long adventure. Rather than directly embarking on a 20-day adventure and experiencing difficulties, I did things gradually: first short distances in Wuhan to get used to the bike, then trips of 100 kilometers in Wuhan, then a two-day trip, a mountain to climb to test my willpower and finally a slightly longer trip.

Around 11 am, the sun reappeared but I decided to go to the lake without taking too many breaks. I still should have left two hours earlier though (I left at 8 am) to avoid the strong sun radiation.

Gradually, the landscapes changed a little, the mountains in the distance disappeared and the vegetation changed. I would have liked to stay in the area longer but I had to go back to work. Next time I should ride longer.

When I got to the lake, I realized that in fact, I was not really in the place I hoped for. Make no mistake, it was very beautiful, but it wasn't really a big lake. Rather square ponds designed for fishermen.

But I was still super happy to find myself a little shade by the water with my friends the hens who came to visit me and sometimes fishermen who came to chat with me.

The place where I was, however, was not really ideal for camping because it was too close to a road. I didn't want to be woken up in the middle of the night by strangers. Besides, my mate Jack told me that while sleeping near this lake, a farmer kindly asked him to leave in the middle of the night few years before.

So after I had rested for an hour, I left to look for a more hidden place. The camp spot I found was not perfect - It wasn't by the water – but I could be invisible at night. I know that many travelers love to set out to find a place to camp. It’s like a game for them. Me, I always have a little apprehension of doing wild camp. This must be probably related to my inexperience in wild camping. But hey, after an hour of imagining the worst, I told myself that I was not risking much and I had to try to make the most of the present moment.

So I made a meal while waiting for night to fall to put my tent discreetly. I didn't want to attract the attention of the local fishermen either.

As I entered the tent, ready to sleep, I felt really stupid. The tent was like a real sauna!! In terms of insects, I was well protected by the mosquito net but the heat was really difficult to bear. I couldn't open the tent door or else I would be eaten alive by the bugs… I could hear them circling around the tent, attracted by a sweating smelly human and my phone light. So I had a hard time falling asleep. Usually, after a day of cycling like this, you can easily fall asleep around 9 p.m... I still told myself that the hotel in this season is nicer and that would save me from carrying a tent and sleeping gear (and a new lesson learned, a sleeping bag is useless in this season). The hammock could be the solution, I have one with an extra mosquito net, but I don't sleep very well in it... a new lesson learned on this trip !

Finally, I woke up at dawn. After packing all my mess, I had breakfast and a little coffee for the road.

I had around 50 kilometers to ride that day to get home and I had to work in the afternoon. The return went well, I followed a few roads lined with fields of tea and corn, but the landscapes were gradually less pleasant and more and more urban.

I finally arrived around midday at home. I had ride 230 kilometers with 1200 meters of elevation gain. That was not bad in this heat. At the end, I was super happy doing this trip: I had learn a lot for my future trips, I enjoyed the ride, saw beautiful landscapes, and met some nice people… I had beautiful memories in my head and only one desire: to leave again as soon as possible!!!

#China #Bike touring #Hubei #Wuhan

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skelffricat · 3 years

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Uppa (Mother)Hoods

I have never given birth, yet I have made three children. At the cosy NCT* group in the Ormeau Library, where I went with my first child (when I managed to get up early enough) I felt ashamed of this. The mothers there were Proper Mothers, with scars in their vaginas; tits out for milking; organic rice cakes for snacks; and great pride in their beautiful birth stories. They were horrific to me (the stories, not the mothers). I couldn’t talk about my birth experience without crying. I even made my GP cry, telling her about it. My eldest was whisked out of my unconscious middle in a now-derelict hospital in South Wales, while my legs were stirruped up (I once made the mistake of visiting the Erotic Museum in Amsterdam- the Sex Museum is better- whilst very stoned. One tends to be stoned, in Amsterdam, I suppose. The floors were confusingly slanted, giving me a sinking feeling, and the top floor’s “sexy” scene was a hospital one. Mannequins in stirrups do NOT turn me on. I had to immediately leave. I may have wept.) There was a student in the hospital room, with horror on his young face, gawping between my legs, and a nurse was urging the doctor to wait for me to go fully under the anaesthetic before he sliced my layers open with the scalpel. My eldest’s father had already been bade to leave. I think he signed something as he left. Signed our lives away?

I learnt later, whilst perusing my eldest’s little red book**, that her lung had collapsed. (I asked why they hadn’t told me. Oh, but it’s fairly common, they said. One in ten thousand. Not worth mentioning, really. Wtf?!) She had pooed in my womb (how rude!) and inhaled some of her own meconium. Meconium. Meconium. I had already learnt that word as a teen, from the band James, in their brilliant song, Gold Mother.

Then I had three friends- well, six, really- who had had stillborn children, at full term, and stopped feeling ashamed of how my child had made her clumsy entrance to the world, and merely relieved that she was alive and kicking, and proud of her. The biggest, reddest, loudest, baby in SCBU***. (“How will I know which one is mine?” I had croaked. Then, it was so obvious, I’d laughed.) I can also feel smug about not pissing myself on trampolines, or every time I sneeze, like most of the women I know who’ve had natural births. Perhaps I’ll start an Unnatural Childbirth Trust. Do your pelvic floor exercises. Now.

TRIGGER WARNING: I am going to talk about teenage suicide.

Now my youngest child has died, by suicide, just short of her 15th birthday, and I try to feel relief that she is at peace, and that I got 15 glorious years with her. If I think about birthdays like the Chinese people do, I can call it 16****. Almost a woman.

I found her. She arranged that I would, I suppose because she thought I could cope with it better than her father could (she was right, of course. She was usually right. She was very wise. I miss her wisdom, and her unfailing ability to open any jar I couldn’t. She was strong.) I don’t know how to feel about that. People keep telling me that I’m strong, but it seems strangely shameful to be strong at this time (and I still can’t open jars). Perhaps the anti-depressants are working too well? I wonder. I worry that my blasé attitude to death made her decision easier (though I understand that it is pointless to worry about these things now. It won’t bring her back.) We tended to talk about death a lot. Some of my friends had died by suicide, and I would discuss with my mother, her granny, around the children, how suicide was no longer a shameful thing. How you shouldn’t say “committed” in front of it, because it hasn’t been a crime in the UK since 1961. It shouldn’t be a crime anywhere. We went to funerals in brightly coloured clothes. I celebrated dead people’s wonderful lives with them.

She was hanging from the trapeze I’d had built for her, in our quiet back garden, from a hammock that I had bought for her. I had wondered about the hammock being out there in winter, and thought it was tied in a funny way, a few days before, but not done anything about that. I try not to regret that either. My logic comforts me thus: at least these things could be taken from the garden, and destroyed (the hammock) or used again (the trapeze) and I didn’t have to cut down any trees. I said to myself- she would have done it anyway, somewhere else, at some time. She did it with her things. She used to do amazing things on them. She could soar and swoop gracefully from that trapeze, and even the hammock got strung up high and spun from.

I had been drinking the night before with my lovely Scottish lover. We watched Wild at Heart, and drank red wine. I thoroughly christened the new bright yellow carpet with a full glass of it, oops. Tried to clean it with a sock. My youngest child was baking in the kitchen. She made a vegan chocolate cake. At one point I went in to her and she was sat on the floor, looking at the cake in the oven. Her head was practically in there. When I was a child, we had electric, not gas, and I thought that people who killed themselves by putting their heads in the oven were cooking themselves to death. How did all the heat not escape, I wondered? How long would that take?! Those thoughts went through my head as I looked at her. She had attempted suicide before, around a month ago. We had been to the hospital. She convinced them (and me) that she wasn’t suicidal, and was sent home. I am not angry at this. What is the point in being angry? She is gone. She was a good actress. A cry for help? She had been to CAMHS that very day. I felt hopeful. She was making cake! She was going to try school tomorrow, in her own comfortable clothes. She hadn’t been for ages. She was too anxious, about uniform, about what to learn, about the future. I asked her what she was doing and we laughed about her proximity to the oven.

He and I ate the cake, later, with natural yoghurt. It was delicious. We called her to join us and she wouldn’t. The last time I saw my youngest daughter alive I was thinking about her killing herself, in a jocular way. Then she did. In a jugular way. Fuck, sorry. I find myself saying the most inappropriate things.

Sometimes I imagine her last breath. Or dream of disembodied heads. I wonder did she change her mind at the last minute, or feel resolute, and pleased with herself, her escape? Did she make a noise? Did she call out to me, to anyone? I guess you probably can’t call out...? At first, the shock was so severe, I couldn’t think about it without feeling a massive surge of pure panic. I saw my face in the mirror that morning, and it was ashen grey. Later, my eldest described the sensation as a perpetual feeling of dread. Impending doom. Yes, I said, like we’re waiting for something horrific to happen! Then we would realise it already had. My heart thumped so viciously hard inside of me, it felt like it was going to jump right out of my chest. Proving its aliveness. Until I calmed it with (mostly) legal drugs. In the next few weeks, I liked to listen to hearts beating, breath flowing. People being alive, alive- oh.

My lover had left that night, as he was to go on a walk early the next day. I am so relieved that he had. He has his own demons. He never went on that walk, of course, but at least he didn’t have to find her. He left at around 3am. Her bedroom door was closed.

I awoke just before 6am. I’m not sure why. I expect I needed water, because I’d been drinking wine. Her door was open. The light was on, and I could see her bed was empty. I got water, and went to her room and saw there was a note on the bed. It was written in green biro, on an A4 file page, folded twice. There was a little cheeky red smiley face with its tongue out on the outside. It was a suicide note. Full of love. Was it a suicide note? So much love. It can’t be a suicide note. I started to look for her, around the house. It was still very dark. I was switching on the light in a room and looking around it and switching the light off and looking in another room. I couldn’t find her. I looked in some rooms twice. I even opened the compartment under her bed. I looked in the cupboard under the stairs, like Harry Potter’s room, that she and her friend had once shut themselves into, to see each other’s glow-in-the-dark bicycle helmets. Where is she? I thought. This is the worst game of Hide-and-Go-Seek ever! Perhaps it’s not a suicide note. Perhaps she has run away? I got dressed.

Then I found her, in our dark and silent back garden. As she was on the far side of the trapeze to me, her feet were level with the safety mat under the trapeze. I thought for a second that she was just standing there, very still. I was still hoping it was all a joke. A mistake. One of our white garden chairs was beside her. When I realised she was hanging, I swung her slightly. This movement haunts me. Her face... her face was distorted. Her tongue lolling out. I hope you never have to see that on anyone. Especially not your child. My friend hanged herself years ago and my daughter’s face reminded me of her dead one. So, I was thinking, she is dead, in one layer of my mind, and in another, I was thinking, I shall save her. I was calling her, and caressing her freezing face. She was so cold. Dead cold. I ran into the kitchen, got a serrated knife. I am unsure of the order of things. Had I already phoned 999? Was I trying to talk on the phone whilst doing all of this? I cut rapidly through the hammock- it was easy. She flopped into the muck. It was so mucky. I was trying to pull her by the arms onto the trapeze mat, away from the cloying mud, but she was a dead weight. Dead dead dead. No help there. I couldn’t move her. She was so ungainly. I felt inept and weak. I tried to put her in the recovery position. Then I thought, oh wait, no, I need to do chest compressions- I can’t do that on a soft mat anyway. I kept dropping the phone in the mud, and the man on the end of the line was almost shouting at me.

I put her on her back and was doing chest compressions and he was asking, “is she breathing?”

She seemed to breathe when I pressed her. I thought, oh! She’s alive? I kept pressing, and dropping the phone in the mud, and I was all mucky too, and she wasn’t breathing- I was just pushing air through her- but I had a glimmer of hope, and the 999 man was counting with me through my mucky mobile phone, and I heard the ambulance coming, and I said to him, I have to let them in! and he said, NO! Keep pressing! I said, I have to, my garden is inaccessible, and I let them in. Two ambulances, filling my dark quiet street with noise and lights and hope.

They took over. They asked for towels to kneel on in the muck. I’d never thought of that- I got them, as quick as I could. I paced, and watched, and walked away then watched again, and the cat jumped and wheedled around everything. Did he see her die? I wondered? Why didn’t you come get me, cat, like Lassie, or Skippy, or fucking Flipper!? She must have shut the kitchen door and kept him away. They tried and tried, and I paced. They did the defibrillators. Then her breasts became visible and I baulked at the indignity of it, whilst knowing it was entirely necessary, and just... human. They did the adrenaline shots. Four of them, taking turns. Is there any hope? I asked one. Not really, he said. We’re trying because she is young. She’s been there a while. At least I could feel less guilty about getting dressed. I kept thinking, why did I get dressed? I got dressed to go find my dead daughter.

Was it starting to get light? It was going to be a beautiful morning, I thought, what a pity she can’t see it. I changed out of my mucky clothes. Layered up. It was so cold. There was time, while they tried to save her.

They tried for 20 minutes before they pronounced her dead. There was mud everywhere. They put the mucky towels in a shopping basket I had outside to light fires in. The ambulance people all told me they were very sorry for my loss.

I don’t like euphemisms for death.

Saying I’ve lost her implies I could find her again. I suppose I find her in my dreams. Though I dreamt of different, unknown, children last night. Two little mixed race boys that I was minding in the (huge dream version) of the Carnival Centre. They kept running away and messing about. At one point we were all on top of a huge concrete topped lift (elevator), that lurched away from beneath us so that we flew into the air. It was falling faster than us. How is that possible? We couldn’t catch up with gravity. Griefity? We weren’t falling fast enough. I keep dreaming of losing children. Not children dying. I dreamt I lost my son the other night too. He was led into a room I wasn’t allowed in. I could see him through the window of the door I couldn’t go through. Then he went out of my sight and I woke up, shaking, horrified.

I recently found my daughter alive again, in a dream. She was very wee- three or four. Before her first haircut. She was being really bold and naughty. She kept running away from me, and she had pooed herself a little, and was rubbing the poo on things, half on purpose. I was trying to catch her and clean her and her hands. We were on holiday? Maybe on a big ferry? I think we had to catch a flight. She had run into a swimming pool room and climbed into a pile of boxes and upset the boxes, and pulled another little girl on top of her and hurt her too. I was trying to pull them out, without hurting them, without losing my temper. I was really trying hard to keep my temper. I was thinking as I woke, if this keeps up, she'll be taken off me. It was so vivid that as I came to, I thought, I must text the Woodcarver; I must text my youngest daughter, to see if she's ok. It was quite a while before I awoke properly and thought, of course she's not ok, she's dead. She's already away. Then I got upset, and cried, but I was glad I got upset because I've been taking anti-depressants and not feeling anything much, so it was a relief to feel sad. I accidentally hadn't taken any for a couple of days at that point.

Saying she has passed annoys me more. Passed what? Her exams? Wind? (That’s always funny.) She has passed tense? She is past tense.

It wasn’t until she was pronounced officially dead that I phoned her father, the Woodcarver. I thought, there is no point in giving him false hope like mine. He made a loud guttural noise, like a wounded animal, on the other end of the line. It woke my son, who was staying with him. He thought his father was dying. Wrong relative.

It was a brightening cold morning by now. The police came. Her father came. He kicked the white chair she had used, and broke it. This satisfied and disturbed me in equal measure. He hit his head off the sink. I was frightened by him, despite the police presence. I was frightened for him.

The police were very kind. A man and a woman. The man was comfortingly camp. They had masks on. There’s a pandemic, it is said. They took their hats off, but left the masks on. No-one else really bothered with masks, for the next while. I was fascinated by the police officers’ dark green peaked hats- one for boys, and one for girls- on my kitchen table. I made myself tea and put sugar in it. I never take sugar in tea. I’d heard it was good for shock.

My dead daughter’s father’s brother came. He told me to phone my mum. I said I would wait until she normally got up. What is the sense of breaking your last peaceful night’s sleep early, to find out something that won’t be any less dreadful half an hour later? He had brought my son; my daughter’s father’s mother; my daughter’s father’s girlfriend. This is starting to read like Anna Burns’ The Milkman. My daughter’s grandma was also fascinated by the police officers’ hats. She said that one wanted mending, and she wished she had a needle and thread. I didn’t think to fetch her one. I asked if it is true that pregnant women are allowed to pee in police officers’ hats, but they hadn’t heard that before. I kept checking the time on my phone, every few minutes, and drinking sweet tea. I was waiting for the real morning to begin. Nothing has felt real ever since, though.

When I did ring my mother at 8am, she didn’t wake. My little brother did, though. He went and told her in person, and when she arrived, she was bawling, and had forgotten her glasses. She looked tiny. She was due to see everyone the next day. She had been quarantining as she was not long back from Spain. I deeply regret not bringing the children to wave at her in the garden. She hadn’t seen them for months.

We were flitting between my house and our friends’ house round the corner. My garden was now a crime scene. My daughter’s father didn’t like this. He wanted to hold her lifeless body’s hand. At that point, I thought I never wanted to see her lifeless body again, but I changed my mind a few days later, and that was alright. I saw her in her casket and her face looked... Dead, but not distorted any more. She looked peaceful, I suppose, and very beautiful, in a sad way. She was surrounded by toys, trinkets, food she loved. Dried mango. Finn and Jake. Her elder sister tucked her pride flag around her. She hadn’t seen her for ten months.

There were many people now, milling inside, and out in the sunshine, between the two houses. The neighbours were out and about, too. I had made horrendous phone calls to a workmate and a couple of friends and the word was spreading. I had phoned my eldest daughter in Wales. To spread the word. The bad word. The worst words. I have had Joshua Burnside’s song, The Good Word, in my head a lot, this last while.

“Last night I dreamed

We were running for our lives

From robots in the jungle

Helicopters in the sky

But the ground opened up and I

Couldn't save her

Couldn't save her again

Oh no

No sir

Not this time

Glory hallelujah.”

My lover came down and was of the utmost comfort to me. When the coroner had been and they were to take her away, the Woodcarver’s biggest brother- he that had been there first- came to me in the other house and asked did I want to say goodbye to her body? I said, no, I do not, that is not my daughter any more.

I sought comfort in words. We read poems on her bed.

Various people told us of a humanist celebrant. She offered to help us for free, and she did, and I am so grateful.

A friend gave me valium. At some point, someone went to the offy. More and more people came. The lovely camp police officer returned, with my daughter’s bank card, and people panicked, because of Covid, but he didn’t say anything. He only wanted to help.

The next while was a blur...

*National Childbirth Trust- it was the only secular one. I also enjoyed the ones in churches, with their cream teas, and knitted religious folks, trying not to try to convert you and yours. It perhaps could’ve been called the Natural Childbirth Trust, because they kept banging on about it...

**The NHS issue these red books as personal child health records.

***SCBU- the Special Care Baby Unit. They pronounced it Skiboo, in their lovely Welsh lilts. My doctor looked like a child. She had been working for 24 hours straight, and was still charming and kind.

****Age reckoning originated in China, where it's believed that a baby's age starts from its time in the mother's womb. The practice is also common in Korea, Japan, Taiwan, Hong Kong and Vietnam.

#suicide #scbu #nct #death #motherhood #uppahoods #teenagesuicide

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andromeda1023 · 4 years

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Telescope maker Meade files for bankruptcy

On Nov. 26, a jury for the U.S. District Court for the Northern District of California found the company liable in an antitrust suit that Orion Telescopes & Binoculars filed against Meade and its parent company, Chinese-owned Ningbo Sunny Electronic Co. The verdict was initially reported by legal news site Law360.

Orion is a California-based retailer that sells telescopes and related accessories. Its website sells telescopes under its own brand name, as well as products from Meade and other brands. Meade is one of the largest distributors and manufacturers of telescopes for amateur astronomers. (Both companies are Astronomy magazine advertisers.)

Meade is a household name in the astronomy community. The company has been making and selling affordable telescopes and accessories since the 1970s and is known for including convenient GPS and error-correcting features in its telescope mounts.

"They brought numerous likable products and innovations to the market," said Bart Fried, an amateur astronomer and vice president of the Amateur Astronomers Association of New York.

Meade says it's not going anywhere. But if Meade were to disappear, customers could lose support for their existing Meade products, Fried said.

It could also be a big blow to the availability and selection of Schmidt-Cassegrain telescopes on the market. Meade and fellow telescope manufacturer Celestron are the two main producers of this type of telescope.

Schmidt-Cassegrain telescopes squeeze a long focal length — good for high-power observing — into a compact package. It’s a popular type of telescope among amateur observers, Fried said.

“You basically end up with a big telescope in a small package,” Fried said.

In a legal complaint filed back in 2016, Orion accused Meade’s parent company of working with another major Chinese telescope manufacturer to fix prices and monopolize the American telescope market. The other company settled with Orion before the suit was filed and is not named in the complaint.

After the jury’s verdict, a U.S. District Court judge on Dec. 5 ruled that Meade and Ningbo Sunny must pay damages to Orion. According to the jury’s verdict — linked to from Orion’s website — Meade owes the retailer at least $16.8 million. However, the amount owed could triple because of the Sherman Antitrust Act, bringing the total closer to $50 million.

The text of Meade Instruments’ bankruptcy filing claims debts between $10 million and $50 million. And according to reporting by Bloomberg News, Meade now intends to sell itself. When reached by email, the company did not confirm the report.

Meade is still selling products on its site as usual. In posts on Facebook, Meade Instruments stated, “We will continue to support our products, our customers, and our network of dealers throughout this process. Our customers will remain our highest priority. We thank you for your valued support and look forward to continuing the Meade name.”

The telescope industry is no stranger to such legal fights.

In 2002, the U.S. Federal Trade Commission blocked Meade from acquiring Celestron, saying the merger would potentially lead to a monopoly on Schmidt-Cassegrain telescopes.

And, according to reporting from Sky & Telescope, Meade and Celestron lobbed a series of lawsuits at one another with accusations of patent infringement about GoTo telescope technology starting in 2001. They mutually resolved the dispute in 2006. That same year, Star Instruments and RC Optical Systems (now Deep Sky Instruments) sued Meade and some of its dealers on claims of false advertising. Meade settled out of court in 2008.

Then, in 2013, Chinese manufacturing company Ningbo Sunny bought Meade Instruments, outbidding Orion and other competitors. That purchase was also part of Orion's complaint, with the company claiming Ningbo Sunny worked with another major telescope manufacturer to purchase Meade. Orion also said it was charged higher prices than another competitor was charged. The Nov. 26 jury verdict for Orion’s antitrust case against Ningbo Sunny found that the company “engaged in anticompetitive conduct” and “had a specific intent to achieve monopoly power in the telescope manufacturing market.”

“Our manufacturers based in China have been conspiring for years to put us out of business so that their own brands can dominate the market and raise prices,” Orion president Peter Moreo said in a press release in April when a federal court ruled that the case could proceed to trial.

http://www.astronomy.com/news/2020/01/telescope-maker-meade-files-for-bankruptcy

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caelesjjk · 5 years

Text

Push (Part 1)

Hiii lovelies! This is the first fic I’ve posted in a long time and I’m so so excited about it. This is also the first fic I’ve posted where I’m writing in first person. My character has a name and everything so I’m nervous and I hope you’ll like her! Give me all the feedback please!!

The last thing I wanted to do after a long day of teaching Kindergartners their alphabet was to go shopping for a gift for my little brothers birthday. But he was my only brother and certainly deserved something special. So I sucked it up and headed downtown to find a worthy gift.

A comic book store was not a place I would normally find myself. It wasn’t that I didn’t find them fascinating in a way, but it just wasn’t my type of reading. I loved old literature. The type that took me back in time and painted the perfect picture as I read the words.

It felt like I had been here for hours, aimlessly wondering around the aisles looking for anything that looked vaguely familiar. Finally becoming frustrated, I dropped the pile of comics in my hands back into the bin with a soft thud and a loud sigh.

“Not finding what you wanted?” A voice on the other side of the aisle says.

“I have no idea what I’m looking for.” I sighed again.

“Maybe I can help?” He asks, he comes over to stand next to me and I finally decide to look up and see who was offering their help.

“Yeah…I mean, do you work here?” I bit my lip. He’s so cute. His blonde fluffy hair that fell into his face in the most emo way possible was something I didn’t think I could find attractive. Bright pink lips, tall and dressed in all black.

“No. But I’m a regular. Who’s the comic for?” He laughs a little as he smiles down at me. I knew I was staring but I couldn’t help myself. He was hard to look away from.

“My bro..brother. My brother.” I finally break away my gaze long enough to clear my throat and bring myself back to earth.

“What’s he in to?” He smiles again. God he’s so cute.

“He’s sort of just starting out. I was looking for something good to get him going.” I angle my body more towards him.

“In that case, I can definitely help. I’m Michael, by the way.” He put his hand out for me to shake.

“Isabella. But just call me Izzy.” I answer, taking the time to observe all the leather bracelets around his wrist and the silver rings on his fingers.

“Come with me.” He says softly, motioning with his head for me to follow him.

I follow him to another section of the store where he starts to explain all the different kinds of comics. It doesn’t seem like there is anything he doesn’t know when it comes to this. I try to follow along the best that I can, smiling and looking at the different comics he shows me. It’s intoxicating to listen to him talk about something he obviously loves so much.

He talks about each character like he’s known them for ages. He knows every detail about their worlds. And though this isn’t the type of reading I would do, I have a whole new respect for it after listening to him talk about it so passionately.

Michael helps me find what I assume will be a great choice for my little brother. As I’m paying for the comic, he shoves his hands into the pockets of his pants and looks down nervously at his feet.

“Is everything okay?” I ask him.

“Yeah…it’s just…I’ve had a really great time talking with you…and wondered if maybe you’d get a coffee with me sometime?” He laughs nervously but finally looks up to meet my eyes.

“I’d really like that.” I feel my cheeks heat up as the smile on his face widens once again.The two of us exchange numbers before I leave the comic book shop in a giddy daze.

Michael was sweet and kind. He always called to ask me about my day. He brought me chocolate and Chinese take out when I was fighting with my mom. She hated my choice to become a teacher, and wanted me to be a lawyer like her. Any time she called it was only to remind me that I wasn’t living up to her expectations. And Michael would simply tell me that I made the right choice because I loved getting up every morning. He made me laugh when I was frustrated and gave the best advice. He was almost…too nice. And it wasn’t a bad thing necessarily, but I wanted him to challenge me. I wanted him to start a fire inside me that couldn’t be put out. And I kept telling myself that maybe he would eventually. Maybe if I gave him time, our relationship would grow to that point. It had only been two months, and Michael deserved for me to give him a chance.

Tonight was going to be the first time I went to his apartment to hang out. He said that his roommate would be there, but that he wouldn’t bother the two of us. I was very nervous, yet extremely hopeful that maybe some kind of spark would finally fly between the two of us. All of our previous dates were so thoughtful and well planned. Part of me wanted to be satisfied with that but most of me just wanted to go do something spontaneous and romantic.

The house I pulled up to was small, but much more inviting than I thought it would be. I couldn’t imagine Michael living here, but I was certain I had typed the address into your GPS correctly. After a few moments of internal debating and attempting to tame some of the flyaways escaping my brown mop of hair, I got out of the car and walked up to the door. I took one more deep breath before ringing the doorbell.

After almost a minute, I was about to reach out to knock on the door, but it’s suddenly swinging open, making me jump back and almost slipping off the step behind me.

“Yeah?” The man that answered the door is tall with a head full of messy black curls. One of his eyebrows is raised as he stares at you expectantly.

“I um…I’m here for Michael?” I trip over my words. I also had to try to stop my eyes from roaming this strangers body, but its in vain. The golden skin of his arm his covered in the black ink of a several tattoos and all he’s wearing is a loose pair of dark green sweat pants.

“I’m up here, Bambi.” He smirks and wets his thick lips with his tongue.

“My name isn’t Bambi…” I start to explain.

“You practically tripped over your own feet on that step. Bambi fits.” He shrugs his shoulders and continues to smirk at me. I wish that I hated it.

“It’s Izzy, actually. Does Michael live here?” I fold my arms over my chest.

“Yeah.” He leans his tall body against the door frame.

“Well could you get him? Or let me in?” I ask.

He doesn’t answer, just slightly moves to the side so that I’m able to walk in the door. I sigh loudly, rolling my eyes before turning to the side and stepping in the door.

“Nice to meet you, Bambi.” He says the words deeply in your ear as you slip past him, his hot breath giving me goosebumps when it fans my skin. I glare at him for continuing to use the ridiculous nickname. Just as I’m about to say something else to him, Michael comes walking into the living room from one of the bedrooms down the hallway.

“Izzy! I didn’t know you were here, you should have called when you pulled up!” Michael walks over to me and quickly wraps his arms around my confused body.

“No big deal.” I say, smiling when he leans down to peck my lips. It was soft and sweet, just the way it always was.

“Did you meet my roommate?” He asks, tucking some hair behind my ears. I look up so that I can see his pretty green eyes looking back into bluish gray ones.

“Yeah…sort of.” I’m not sure I want to meet him officially.

“Oh well, that’s Calum. Cal, this is my girlfriend, Izzy.” Michael pats Calum’s shoulder a couple of times when he introduces him. Calum doesn’t look up from the book he was reading on the couch.

“Nice to meet you too…” I say, but Michael just takes my hand and starts leading me down the hallway.

“Calum is kind of dick.” Michael laughs a little as he opens his door and lets me go inside first.

“Why are you friends with him then?” I ask.

“We’ve been friends since we were kids. We’ve just been through some shit together. And once you get to know him I know you’ll like him.” Michael quickly kisses my cheek. I can tell he was trying to change the subject before he said anything else.

“What’s on the agenda tonight?” I ask, taking off my coat.

“I ordered a pizza, and I thought we could just hang out? Is that okay?” Michael shoves some laundry off of his bed onto the floor and I can help but smile at how cute he is.

“Sure, that sounds great.” I walk over to him and he sweeps me into another hug.

“I missed you the past few days, babe.” He buries his face in my neck and holds me tightly.

“Missed you too, Mikey.” I run my fingers through the hair at the nape of his neck and close my eyes for a moment. I want him to kiss me. I want him to kiss me like he fucking means it. He just needs to kiss me so I know he’s at least somewhat thinking the same thing I am.

“Are you getting hungry?” He says into my neck.

“Not particularly…” I try to nuzzle his face so that he will look at me, and just as he does, the doorbell rings and he’s pulling away from me.

“Pizza’s here! I’ll be right back.” He pecks my forehead and heads out of his bedroom door.

For the next few hours Michael and I enjoy the pizza he ordered as well as some great conversations. He’s sitting with his legs crossed and his back against the wall. I’ve been trying to think of a way to initiate something. Thinking that maybe if I crawl into his lap and start kissing him, he will stop talking and just start that fire that I’m craving.

“Mikey…” I start to say, and he stops talking for a moment and cocks his head to the side in question.

“Yeah, love?” He asks with a smile.

I don’t say anything else. I just hold his eyes and slowly crawl across his bed. I bite my lip when I’m finally in position to straddle his lap. He doesn’t stop me, just watches as I continue to move up his body. I place my thighs on either side of his and settle my ass on his lower stomach. I run my hands up his bare arms onto his shoulders before I meet his eyes again. He doesn’t seem to mind what I’m doing, so I lean in and lightly press my lips to his.

Michael kisses back gently, his hands finally coming up to settle on my hips. I trace my fingertips up his chest and cup them on his stubbly neck. It felt good to kiss him this way, but I wanted more. I lightly ran my tongue along his bottom lip, hoping he opened his mouth and allowed it to dance with his. And to my delight, he does. It starts out slow and eventually becomes a bit more heated and I can’t help but start to rock my hips a bit. I can feel his grip on my hips begin to get tighter, almost like he’s trying to stop me from moving.

“Izzy…babe, maybe we should slow down.” Michael says against my mouth.

“Oh…yeah. We can, sure.” I could feel a bit of embarrassment rise to the surface of my cheeks as I lift my leg over his and move over to the other side of the bed.

“It’s not that I didn’t like it. I just want things to go right with you, ya know?” Michael takes in my expression and scoots closer to me.

“Of course.” I quickly kiss his cheek and let him wrap his arm around me while he turns on the TV on the far wall.

It was difficult to decide whether or not Michael wanting to go so slowly was a good or bad thing. We hadn’t talked about our past relationships much and maybe that was something I needed to bring up to better understand his reasoning.

I didn’t have a lot of relationships to base things off of. Some were good. A lot were bad. Nothing fit. No one made me feel like just being me was good enough. I didn’t feel connected to them. But there was always sex, and that may have been the only factor that kept most of those relationships going for as long as they did.

So maybe the problem was me. Maybe I moved things too quickly. Expected too much. Maybe I wasn’t looking for the right things. Or maybe I was just looking for good things in the wrong people.

“Do you want to stay here tonight?” Mikey asks.

“Are you sure that you want me to?”

“Of course. I’ll get you something to sleep in, okay?” He presses a kiss to my temple and slides off the bed. He fumbles through the clean clothes in his drawers before handing me a Metallica t-shirt.

“Thanks.” I take the shirt from him and stand up to start getting undressed.

“The bathrooms across the hall babe.” Mikey says, flipping back down in the bed. I can’t help but roll my eyes as I button up my jeans and walk out into the hallway and across to the bathroom.

I had dated enough guys in the past to know what I did and did not want. But for some reason, even with all of his little quirks that drove me crazy, I wanted to make it work with Michael. He was everything I needed, we just weren’t on the same page sexually. I could deal with that, right? I could wait until he was ready for that type of thing. I wasn’t some sex crazed teenager anymore. And maybe waiting would just make it that much better when it actually happened.

I slipped out of my jeans and sweater, folding them up and sitting them on the counter. Looking myself over in the mirror a few times, wishing I could erase the freckles sprinkled across my cheeks and nose. I decided to go to the kitchen and grab something to drink before heading back to Michael’s room.

The dim light of a lamp was still on the in the living room, the soft murmur of the TV was going as well as I walked in. Calum was asleep on the couch, a book open on his chest. He was kind of beautiful like this, not talking or calling me Bambi. He had long eyelashes that cast shadows on his cheeks and he most certainly didn’t deserve to have such perfect lashes.

Because curiosity is somewhat of a weakness for me, I walked further into the room to get a better look at the book he was reading. The Picture of Dorian Gray laid there across his chest. It definitely wasn’t what I expected to see there in the slightest. It was such a tragic novel, but I had read it plenty of times. I reached out and touched the cover of the book, completely forgetting that there was very rude man sleeping beneath it.

“Watching me sleep, Bambi?” Calum says with an unamused yawn. I practically jumped three feet back when he spoke.

“No. Definitely not. I just wanted to see what you were reading.” I tug at the hem of Michael’s t-shirt trying to pull it down when Calum opens his eyes and smirks at my appearance.

“Got Clifford to sleep with you already? That’s a record.” He says, standing up and stretching out his long body.

“What? No. I’m just borrowing a shirt to sleep in. Not that it’s any of your business anyways.” I roll my eyes and cross my arms over my chest. Calum steps up closely before he talks again.

“Trust me, Bambi, if you keep prancing around my house in those lacy little things, it’ll most definitely be my business.” He bites his thick bottom lip and eyes my underwear that are apparently far too visible.

“You’re a pig.” I glare at him, pulling the shirt down over my ass and quickly walking back towards Michael’s room.

“Night, Isabella.” Calum teases with a quiet laugh. I don’t acknowledge him, I just keep walking until I’m in Michael’s room again.

I’m not sure what I was expecting when I came back into the room. Maybe that Michael would have had time to think about what he really wanted. But to my disappointment, he was sleeping. Both arms propped behind his head as quiet snores left his bright pink lips. I sighed, kneeing up onto the bed and laying my head on his chest. He hummed contently when he felt me against him.

“Night Mikey.” I whispered the words, knowing he wouldn’t hear them anyways.

My dreams that night weren’t filled with a soft, blonde haired boy, but instead they were filled with hot steamy visions of his cocky and maddening roommate.

#5 seconds of summer #5sos #ashton irwin #calum hood #luke hemmings #michael clifford #5sos imagines #5sos fic #omg im so excited #super hot broody cal coming your way #please send me feedback #it means so much #reblog this bitch too #calum hood fic

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viabrown586 · 3 years

Text

Kindle Reader For Mac Viewing Bookmarks

The app syncs your furthest page read, bookmarks, notes, and highlights between Android, PC, Mac, iPad, iPhone, iPod touch, BlackBerry, Windows Phone 8, and any of our Kindle devices using our Whispersync technology.

Then on the order confirmation screen click on the Go to Kindle for PC button to pull up the E-reader. The Home page of the Kindle comes up and you’ll see what books have been downloaded and can monitor the download progress of the one you just bought.

Kindle for Mac reading app gives users the ability to read Kindle books on a beautiful, easy-to-use interface. You’ll have access to over 1,000,000* books in the Kindle.

How to bookmark a location in the Kindle app for iPhone and iPad The best way to ensure that you don't lose your place in a book is to add a bookmark. You can add bookmarks to multiple pages and access them from the My Notebook section.

Amazon today announced that it will release Kindle software for Apple's iPad, a move one analyst said was in line with the e-tailer's earlier releases of viewing software for the PC, Mac, iPhone.

Amazon's Whispernet service does a very good job of delivering books directly to any registered Kindle. The trouble is, if anything catastrophic should happen, you'd be forced to download them all again -- unless you have a backup. The process is free, but it can be time-consuming.

Here we'll show you how to save yourself the hassle of resurrecting your digital library by backing up your purchases to your computer, explain what digital rights measures Amazon has in place, and reveal how even those without a wireless network can save money by buying a Wi-Fi-only Kindle.

Sony reader for mac. Download Links For QR Code Reader-Barcode Scanner & QR Code Scanner: Download: Download: More From Us: Step to Step Guide / QR Code Reader-Barcode Scanner & QR Code Scanner For PC: • As you have Downloaded and Installed Bluestacks Emulator, from Links which are provided above. Download and use QR Code Reader-Barcode Scanner & QR Code Scanner on your PC & Mac using an Android Emulator. • Now, After the installation, configure it and add your Google account.

Backing up your Kindle

Your Kindle's charging cable is key to backing it up. As the icons on each end suggest, this is a regular USB cable, which once detached from the plug can be used to connect your Kindle to a Mac or PC.

Connected this way, its internal storage mounts as an external drive, appearing as 'Kindle' on a Mac's Finder sidebar, and assigned a drive letter when hooked up to a Windows PC.

Kindle's filing system isn't particularly tidy. It consists of three key folders called audible, music and documents. The first two contain your audiobooks and MP3s, the third, 'documents', holds pretty much everything else, including downloaded books, text files, PDFs and screen grabs. You can capture your Kindle's screen display at any time by holding shift and alt while briefly pressing 'G' on its keyboard. Grabs are saved in .gif format and given the prefix 'screen_shot'.

If you've connected your Kindle to your computer before, you may spot some other folders alongside these three defaults, particularly if you have used a management tool such as Calibre, which leaves small metadata files behind it.

EC Technology SD Card Reader Aluminum Superspeed USB 3.0 Multi-In-1 Card Reader for SD Card/CF Card/Micro SD Card and More for MacBook Pro Air, iMac, Mac Mini, Microsoft Surface Pro, Lenovo Yoga by EC Technology. Card reader for mac pro.

Sort the files in the documents folder according to type. If you're using Windows 7, the easiest way to do this is by clicking the drop-down menu on the right-hand side of the Type column header. From this, select AZW to filter out all of the non-book files.

On a Mac you can do the same thing by entering .azw in the Finder toolbar's search box to display only those documents with that extension.

This isolated selection is your collection of downloaded books, which you can drag to another location on your computer for storage. Each will be preserved in its original format without all of the associated bookmarks. To keep track of these, be sure to also copy across any .mbp files bearing the same names as your books.

Transferring books to another device

Charged-for Kindle books are copy protected, so while you can back them up this way you can't transfer them to another Kindle or reader application. Doing so will throw up an error.

Feb 27, 2015 In October of last year I wrote about a way to view Web pages in Chrome for Android without any of the distracting ads or other page elements. This feature, called Reader Mode. Search for “Reader mode” and you will see the option “Reader Mode triggering” set to “Default”. Change it to “Always”, if you want to force the Reader mode on every webpage or select “ Appears to be an article “, which lets Chrome detect articles. Reader mode for chrome for mac. Show the reader view (reading mode) in Google Chrome 1 If you've used Safari on Mac OS X or iOS devices (iPhone, iPad, iPod touch), you know the ' reader view ' option.

You can, however, transfer free books on which copyright has expired.

We are merely a software download directory and search engine of shareware, freeware programs available on the Internet. Note: Remember to virus scan all software before you install, and be sure to read and agree the software License Agreement. However report a problem you have had with any individual software listed here and we will delete it promptly. Rocket Download is not responsible for any problems that may occur from downloading or installing software that listed here. Udf reader for mac os x. ||||||||||| Please direct any questions or bugs regarding software to the company that developed the program.

Download Kindle Reader For Mac

This restriction not only prevents copyright infringement, but also stops you from either copying them to another device you own yourself, or reading your backed-up books in a Kindle app on your PC, Mac, tablet or phone.

To transfer a copy of your bought books to another device, ensure that it's registered to your account and either use the built-in synchronisation option to choose the books you want to download from your archive, or revert to the Amazon site to retrieve multiple documents over Whispernet. After logging in using a normal browser, click Your Account > Manage your Kindle (the latter is in the Settings box). Enter your password again, and Amazon will display a list of your past purchases.

Each is accompanied by an Actions menu that lets you re-send the book to any one of your devices or delete it from your library. This latter option removes it entirely from your list of purchased books, so use it with caution, as you'll have to buy it again if you want to get it back.

China specific version and related privacy issues ( ) Starting with version 30, Adobe stopped distributing Flash Player directly to Chinese users. He also claimed that when one of Apple's computers crashes, 'more often than not' the cause can be attributed to Flash, and described Flash as 'buggy'. Instead, they selected 2144.cn as a partner and released a special version of Flash Player on a specific website, which contains code to collect user activity and pops up advertisement window contents. Steve Jobs also claimed that a large percentage of the video on the Internet is supported on iOS, since many popular video sharing websites such as YouTube have published video content in an compatible format, enabling videos to playback in mobile web browsers even without Flash Player. Flash reader for mac. Adobe's CEO responded by saying, 'If Flash (is) the number one reason that Macs crash, which I'm not aware of, it has as much to do with the Apple operating system.'

To dispatch another copy of a purchased book to one of your Kindles or apps, Amazon needs to know which device you want to re-send your book to.

This isn't only so that it can find it over Whispernet, but so it can apply the necessary rights management. This is more obvious when you elect to download the file to your computer and transfer it by USB, as you'll still need to specify on which device it will be used.

Save money on your Kindle purchase

The ability to transfer purchases this way means that even if you don't have a wireless network at home you can still avoid paying extra on a 3G-enabled Kindle. If you bought yours from Amazon direct it will already be registered to your account, but if you bought it through a third-party such as Currys or Staples then you'll need to do this yourself.

Every Kindle has a unique serial number, which Amazon claims is printed on the reverse. It's missing from our Kindle 3, but holding Shift and Alt on the Kindle keyboard while pressing full stop brings it up on screen, along with matching barcodes.

Make a note of this, log in to your Amazon account using a regular browser and go to amazon.co.uk/gp/digital/fiona/manage. Click the 'Register a Kindle' link in the sidebar and enter the serial number to tie it to your account. Amazon can now use this to apply the necessary DRM to your purchases that will allow them to be read on the device.

Now, having found a book you want to buy, instead of delivering it straight to the registered Kindle, pick 'Transfer via Computer' on the 'Deliver to' pop-up menu.

Bookmarks For Kindle Fire Hd

Amazon will ask you to confirm to which device you intend to transfer it. On a Mac it will be saved to your Downloads folder. On a PC, you'll need to choose whether to save or run the file. Opt to save it and choose a destination.

Kindle App Bookmarks

Kindle For Mac Download

Finally, connect your Kindle to your computer and drag your downloaded book to its 'documents' folder.

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we-rolling-stones · 6 years

Text

Turtle Time

Turns out, we'd been spoiled for border crossings when entering Lesotho. Mozambique was much, MUCH more intense. After leaving the bush house, we headed south to Nelspruit to pick up Matt's passport with US visa contained (huzzah!), then west to the Komatipoort border between SA and Mozambique. As soon as we rolled up towards the South African portion of the border, we'd been marked: a guy standing outside the customs office spotted the Land Cruiser and our two white faces and started waving us towards a parking space - taking ownership of us like we were passengers on his paid tour of the border space. As soon as you leave the car, he's full of instructions - go here, bring this, you'll need that later.

Despite our polite peristence that we didn't need any help, he was impossible to shake off - after leaving South African customs, literally running across the border no-man's land to the Mozambican side to meet us, attempting to steer us toward his preferred third-party insurance provider (a mandatory purchase for border crossing), filling out our forms for us, talking to the customs officials on our behalf. He's soon joined by other guys, following closely, offering you SIM cards and emergency triangles and vehicle stickers, who shuffle nearer and nearer no matter how many times you say you're not interested. As the female of our pair, I am of no consequence - everyone focuses on Matt, the man and clearly the decision-maker of our group. When all our papers are in order, we escape back into the car and leave our small crowd of new friends with Matt rolling up the window and still muttering "no....no thanks..." in the faces of four or five disappointed guys as we drive off...

....only to spend 20 minutes waiting at a construction stop-go no more than 50 metres from the border.

We spend the night in Maputo, the country's capital, at a backpacker's called Fatima's Place in the middle of the city. Given the options to camp in our roof tent in their driveway for MT 700 per person or to get a bed in the dormitory for MT 800, we say to hell with camping. They've even got a bar and free wi-fi! We go for a nighttime stroll around the city, hoping to make it to the beach (our backpacker's is only three blocks away), but we take a wrong turn and wander aimlessly for a while instead. Maputo is a weird mix of Eurasia and Africa: a former Portuguese colony, the country's official language is still Portuguese. But there's obviously been a lot of Communist influence: we spot a few Soviet-style boxy high-rise apartment blocks, and our hostel sits on the corner of Mao Zedong and Lenin Avenues. Significant amounts of money have obviously been invested in parts of the city: there are some beautiful mansions facing the coast, and the spacious ground floor of one building boasts a plaque commemorating its dedication as a restaurant in 2013 by the mayor of Maputo. It's tropical(ish) - there are palm trees and sand everywhere. But the sidewalks are mangled and broken; the mansion by the sea has never been finished and sits abandoned behind a construction curtain; the restaurant has closed down since 2013 and is empty.

For example: a mansion on the coast, overlooking the ocean on one side and...an abandoned garage on the other.

Maputo feels like the kind of city whose magic opens up to you only after you stay for a while. But we've got a craving for the beach, so we head out the next day: south to Ponta d'Ouro, a tiny village in the far south eastern corner of the country. Asia's influence in Mozambique becomes evident - the road to Ponta used to be a sandy track, impossible to navigate when wet, making the 300-km journey take 5-6 hours to complete. All that has changed with the entrance of the Chinese, who have built a tarred road system the entire distance between the two cities that's so new our GPS doesn't recognize it.

We fly through the journey in just 2.5 hours and arrive in the rain to our new home for the next week - Gala Gala Eco Lodge, a deceptively large quasi-village with what must be 50 campsites and a handful of cabanas. After checking in, we head over to the beach to check out our REAL priority for the week: SCUBA DIVING!

That's right. This week we are getting PADI certified. An open water course, which qualifies you to dive up to 18 metres, takes around 4 days to complete. It includes a theory section (lots of reading and quizzes), a pool day (attempting to control your buoyancy in water that's barely deep enough to dive in), and 4 sea dives, each of which test a variety of skills alongside your exploration of the reef of the day. These include recovering your regulator in case you somehow lose grip on your only air source...the tube that goes in your mouth; taking your mask off at the bottom of the ocean, putting it back on, and clearing it of seawater by blowing out your nose in case you have a death wish, or otherwise get your kicks out of doing stupid and scary things, etc.

Thankfully the skills get less scary the more times you practice, and after 5-10 minutes of skills at the start of each dive you get the rest of the time to explore the reef. We don't have an underwater camera so this part will be left to your imagination, but DIVING IS AWESOME. We've seen pods of dolphins surfing massive waves amidst rainbows in the sea spray on our way out to the dive site, a stingray with a 5-foot wingspan swimming in and out of a cavern, a green turtle, a pufferfish chilling under an overhang, a (giant) potato bass guarding his reef, an octopus hiding in a hole, a few giant moray eels, and many more exoticities. Despite all my anxieties to the contrary, we have not once been attacked by a sea creature from below.

We spend five days completing our course at a leisurely pace with Blue, our tremendously patient and talented scuba instructor, her boyfriend Tibo - also an instructor - and Alarda - another South African from Mpumalanga who's the only other student this week. Our lessons are interspersed with naps, lounges on the beach, and consuming vast quantities of peri-peri prawns.

vimeo

Also beaching. Lots of beaching.

We are one of approximately 5 tourists in town (it's low season), and so we are persistently followed around by guys selling things - from bracelets to bowls to backpacks to shoes. One man speaks to us for 20 minutes in the beach parking lot, showing off his handmade leather wares. When it becomes apparent that we've got tight wallets, he pulls out his trump card - "want to buy some weed? Good price, 100 rand a bag."

We did not support our local drug cartel, but Matt did buy a pair of board shorts branded with the logo of Deutsche M, one of the Mozambican beers.

Alarda, Blue, Tibo and us all become fast friends and by the last night after our final dive, we're all having sunset drinks together on our favourite beach before going out to Lulu's (a local restaurant frequented by ACTUAL locals, a rare and difficult find) for peri-peri chicken.

Blue forgets to take our photos for our PADI cards until we're saying our goodbyes, so she does it quickly on her phone. Our diving card photos will forever show us in the dark, in a parking lot in Ponta after a few beers, happier than ever that we're here.

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everythingne · 1 month

Text

out of the woods, 5 (ls2)

With clear favoritism boosting all of Ferrari's tactics, Dhanishka makes a difficult decision after a crash causes her to see the true colors of her team. Logan sweeps in to save the day.

series masterlist

warnings/notes: mistreatment of Dhanishka by Ferrari, misogyny, migraines, car accidents with very minor injuries, dhanishka and logan kinda being toxic for eachother? yes this is rewritten !

(ch4) (ch6)

The little room they've shoved us all into for media is more crowded than I want it to be. The Chinese GP was off to a rocky start already, with downpour rains all day on Thursday and distant thunderstorms for all of Friday and Saturday, supposedly. Ducking through the media area, I'm looking for Charles, turned in on myself even in the room full of flashing lights as I try to hide from the world. I want nothing to do with media today. I know it's going to be a shit show, and my stomach churns and knots. I manage to hide pretty well, biting my tongue and moving as quickly and as silently as possible until I pop my head up to look. Charles had said he was in the back, but when I look around I can't spot his red shirt anywhere.

I'm about to leave, planning to head back to the garage until I have to come out for media, but I make solid eye contact with Logan across the room. A weird wave of calm hits me, before its also sprinkled with anxiety.

We haven't spoke since he kicked me out, and his face contorts somewhere between what I know to be his normal happy expression and his general frustrated expression.

I can't even read his expressions anymore.

I swallow my pride and smile at him, knowing the cameras are on me. I note his smile isn't full, he does still return one, which at least tells me he'll be normal around media. Which is still my biggest concern even with this new sort of tugging feeling in my heart, which I assume is from when he nestled himself in there and fancied himself a home. Even as he waves me over, I hesitate to move, and I can tell he senses my apprehension. Excusing himself from Oscar and Alex's sides, he begins to cross the small, cramped room. I manage to slip through a wall of reporters surrounding Max (who I don't notice is next to Charles), I'm accidentally being shoved aside and nearly falling flat on my head before I'm grabbed and pulled into the firm protective hold of Logan. Instinctively, his arm wraps tight around my waist as he brings me to his chest. My hands find his shoulders and slide across in a hug as he leans his head down to whisper,

"You look terrified, Isa." His hand squeezes my waist and leaves the skin tingly, as if he's shocked it with little electrodes hidden in his fingertips. All his lingering touches feel like that, they have since I was seventeen.

"I am." I say back to him as I pull back from the hug just enough for us to look at eachother, "It's first media day after we announced this whole... thing."

Logan nods and then sighs, but what I don't expect is for him to take me tight by the skin just above my elbows and into a quiet, dark corner. I also pretend I don't see Oscar cover up for our sudden disappearance from the media pen.

"What are we doing, Dhanishka?" He hisses through his teeth, trapping me in the corner. He's doing it to keep media from seeing our faces if they spot us through the tiny crowd behind Logan's back. But he's also doing it to pressure me into answering him, or at least it feels like that.

"What do you mean?" I ask, not exactly knowing what he's looking for me to say.

"With us." He emphasizes, "We never exactly spoke about it. And you look at me one way and treat me another, so figure out right now how you want this to go."

I pause, a deep feeling in my gut I can't name making its home there as I blink up at my ex-boyfriend now kinda-boyfriend.

"We go along with the PR plans." I say softly and he nods, stepping back to just huff, and run his hand through his hair before letting it fall to his side as he says, "This is probably the worst possible time to bring that up, but I'm sorry for just assuming you wanted to..."

He trails off and before he can finish, I shake my head softly and give him the tiniest reassuring smile I can muster. He quiets at the soft expression on my face as I bring one hand squeeze his forearm;

"No, Logan. I should've told you the truth of what I wanted out of this from from the beginning. It was wrong of me to string you along like that," and I hesitate before adding in a softer voice, "I don't regret it, if you're scared about that, too."

He seems taken aback by my apology, but before we can say more, Logan's manager Astrid comes up to us and smiles in the most fake way I've ever seen in my life.

"Oh good! You two, okay listen," She snaps at me to get my attention and I don't hide the obvious distaste for her attitude I have as she keeps talking, "you guys are acting super awkward and I know you aren't actors but we need to keep selling this to help PR, okay? Logan, be a bit touchier, Dhanishka, smile. You both have images to uphold!"

When she waves us over to media, everything just feels strained. We would've gotten somewhere without the rude interruption from his manager. Logan does listen though, and settles his hand on my lower back to guide me into the media area where a few different drivers are already being interviewed.

When we go to split off to do our interviews, he plants a soft kiss to the side of my head and fixes one of my necklaces thats twisted before squeezing my hand three times.

He did that when we were still kids.

I'm lucky Ophelia is calling me over to do the interview, so I can distract myself from the tears threatening to fall over my waterline. Luckily, for now, I'm out of the grabbing range of asshole reporters and the people who only want a headline.

"Danny..!" Ophelia sings, handing me a microphone labeled 'VOGUE' as she steps in, ever so elegantly, next to me.

"Since we last spoke, quite a bit has happened, but lets talk about this outfit?"

"You look stunning, the red of the Ferrari suits has always looked good on your but this pop? Stunning, brilliant, we love to see it."

We talk a bit more about fashion, and her interview is a bit longer than I'm expecting. I don't wanna leave the safety of her interview, but eventually I'm pulled away and into the mass of the boring, normal interviews.

I wanted to talk more about why Ferrari was using this specific shade of red, not why my rear wing continuously failed while Charles' was always fine. I chalked it up to me driving about a hundred times more aggressively than Charles.

After an hour of normal interviews, it's Sky News who comes to be the kicker. It's some white man reporter I don’t recognize. Unfortunately not Jenson today. When I feel someone staring at me while I greet myself to the reporter, I turn to their gaze and spot Logan. He's far down the pen on my left side and he's staring. When we make eye contact, he makes a foul face at the reporter before he's snagged by another reporter. I don't have time to try and ask further. I miss the reporter introducing himself but don’t miss the way Charles, on my right, comes behind me and roughly grips my wrist.

“Any specific reason you were spotted in London last weekend?” The man asks me. His grip is tightly holding the orange taped microphone towards me and I shrug with a tiny smile. I find myself awkwardly rocking from side to side out of habit. Something in my head tripping every red alarm.

“Just making some visits to my friends, is all. I also had some media responsibilities.” I reply calmly and catch Logan’s eye again. This time, my look lingers long enough to see him try to mouth something to me before the reporter talking pulls me away again.

“A certain driver seems to have caught your eye, though, are we correct to assume there’s some heat between you and a certain Williams driver?” The man smiles almost predatory. Immediately after, Charles taps the back of my arm to signal me to move back as he eyes the reporter. If looks could kill, we'd have a tag team homicide between him and Logan. So, I move back. My eyes study the mans face, the hooded eyes, the slightly narrower left eye. The crooked nose, the wobbly smile. It rings of Trident. Screams it in my face. I can't help but let a soft laugh tumble out of my lips at the realization. It's fucking Anthony Davis. That's why both Logan and Charles have stopped to watch.

“Thought my instagram post was pretty clear,” I chime once I find my footing and push my emotions back, “maybe not as clear as the literal blackmailing you did to Logan. But I'm sure that Williams' lawyers will be in contact soon enough."

My PR agent is gonna just quit one of these days due to my mouth. But I had to say what I needed to. I keep my ice cold glare on Anthony, who tries to stammer out some excuse about the blackmail and I scoff.

"Sorry your brother is too much of a liar to be able to dirty my name. So much so that he sent his baby brother to do his dirty work." I snip and Charles is staring like I’ve just cursed this man out.

I think I can hear Lando laughing somewhere off to the side.

"Dhanishka." Charles hisses through his teeth. Anthony tries to provoke me one more time, and then I point a finger in Anthony's face with a snarl as I step closer.

“We’re done with you and your bullshit, Davis. I hope you have a terrible day. Make sure to tell David I said hi, just to remind him of the woman who took his career from him.” I grin forcibly, watching as Anthony’s face grows in anger. Charles steps between us, asking Anthony to leave and I allow myself a reprieve here to look around. Logan gives me a little smile and an appreciative nod, which I return, before I’m being pulled away by PR.

Qualifying brings back Ferrari’s curse.

I change and take my hair out of its now frizzy braid, taking the time to brush it as I stick my head under the sink faucet to wet my hair. I’m wringing it out as I hear a knock on my door.

“Come in!” I call, grabbing a towel to place over my shoulders as the door pops open and I’m greeted with the soon to be Norris’ couple.

I gawk, “How did you both get in here?”

“That fucking reporter.”

"Sounds like Ferrari, between this and the way Aakash speaks to you over the radios?" Olivia hums, "I think I've heard both Charles and Carlos say these same complaints over the years."

"Maybe talk to Charles about everything, he'd know Ferrari better than I would." Lando suggests, watching his fiance as she finishes off my braid. She then squeezes my shoulders and pulls me back to rest on her chest as she lazily wraps her arms around me. Lando kicking his legs up to rest on my lap as he yawns into the back of his hand.

"I have been, he's been a huge help, but it's still ridiculous." I complain, smushed against Olivia's Red Bull tee as I close my eyes to fight off the stress migraine forming.

"The car or the radio?" Olivia asks and I laugh,

"Both." I declare and she nods in agreement. I complain for a bit longer, Olivia convincing me to talk to Charles about my frustrations once again. But by the time I've gone off to find him, I notice his attention being held by Fred and some of the engineers. Even when I try to get him away, he's continuously pulled back with soft sorry's thrown over his red clad shoulders.

After an hour of trying and failing, I just go home. It's not worth my energy.

I go to bed that night with a migraine, but I'm not sick, nor do I feel stressed. The migraine comes from nowhere, I barely have enough time to get meds in me and get myself tucked in my blankets before it gets worse. I barely stomach my dinner, and it takes ages for me to finally fall asleep.

The next day I nearly crash twice when my tires are too worn. I keep asking, but they won't box me. After the race, I attend all my meetings, and while they celebrate another Charles podium, I can't help but sulk in my drivers room after giving Charles a tight hug in celebration. Sure, I finished a lucky P9 for my car issues... but I was fighting with Max in P2 when my rear tires decided they hated me.

I asked so many times to be boxed. It’s not the first time they've refused to pull me into the pits, but today was the most dangerous. I had no grip, I had nothing but prayers and maybe a bit of luck because I didn't crash out.

When my frustrations don't wear off, even after I snag the treadmill to sprint until my legs are jello, I go to try and find Charles for our little private post-race debrief. I need him in this moment like a fish needs water. The debriefs we have been having being the only thing keeping me from losing my mind in Ferrari. I spot him in the garage. He's being held captive by the team. They engross themselves in deep plans for his racing, smiling and waving hands in excitement. I notice no one had come to grab me. I dart my eyes around and swallow the sick feeling in my gut. Why wasn't I grabbed for a team meeting? Had they forgotten me?

"What about Dhanishka?" Charles asks, eyes flickering over to meet mine and I feel the pull to enter the conversation. I'm ready to make my way over, assuming it was a misunderstanding, until Fred shakes his head and squeezes his golden boys shoulder. The way he does it is so paternal. It almost makes me feel sick.

"Dhanishka comes second to you, Charles. You are more important than some girl. We'll use her to help you..."

Fred's voice fades out to a ringing in my ears. I feel my hands immediately start shaking. I feel myself becoming a mix of rage and embarrassment -- my face burns hotter than prodded embers.

More important than some girl?

How could I have been so stupid? All this time I've been trying to convince myself Ferrari wasn't Trident and here they are, planning behind my back. But to ass insult to injury, it's not for my benefit. In this moment, I am Viscaal, and I understand it now.

They've been straight up gaslighting me.

And when Charles snaps his head up to meet my eyes after a moment, I've already turned to rush down the hall. Tears of betrayal prick in my eyes at my own stupidity, that I felt like I belonged in this red building. Sure, it was something off hand, maybe he didn't mean it the way he said it due to poor translation from language to language, but it was enough to frustrate me to tears.

Would I ever escape teams like this?

I retire to my hotel room early that night. As soon as I can. All I wanna do is party, but to save myself the potential breakdown, I choose not to join anyone in the festivities. My mistake is thinking if I ignore the mass amounts of messages blowing up my phone, no one will search for further answers. Everyone, even drivers like Magnussen, knew I loved a good post race party.

I was the life of the party next to Lando after all.

As soon as I get back, still in all my racing gear save for the helmet, I drop my bag at the door, kick off my shoes, and crawl into bed. I ignore the world, let the sun set into black skies as I stay tucked in my bed. I can't bring myself to move, to change, to shower, to even eat. There's a mix of anxiety, fear, and disappointment in myself wrecking havoc in my gut and genuine pain in my body keeping me in the plush blankets.

My parents call to congratulate me, I humor them with a tired smile and blame it on the time zones. I pretend I'm asleep when I see Anya tries to call me twice.

I can't lie to her. I know she could tell it was more.

I have to ignore Anya so my family will continue to think I'm doing fine. I can't worry them about me turning into the monster I had been after Trident again. If that even seems true, my dad will somehow find a way to pull me out of F1 and bring me home immediately. I try to suppress it, but I can feel that monster clawing at the restraints. I've held it in for so long this season, making it all the way to China's GP, but I know one more thing might make me say fuck it and let myself grow cold again.

Half awake, several hours later, not that I would know the time, someone knocking at the door makes me jump. I ignore it, even as the muffled voices call for me and ask if I'm alright. They all sound like strangers due to how sleepy I am, refusing to move from my warmth, I just stay still. Laying curled up, tucked up to my chin in blankets, until someone scans a card in the door and begins to let themselves in. I jump, preparing to throw my phone in defense, when it's Danny who pops his head in.

"I have a bad migraine, but I'm alive." I say, choosing for that to be the reason as to why I was laying in the dark. Not because I felt too tired to get up to turn the light on. Or that I felt my seventeen year old rage returning.

"Need anything?" Logan asks, feather soft, before the others can. I hate how I can see him noticing all my soft lines turning hard. His eyes trace my face, across my shoulders and then to the way my body lumps under the blankets. I just sit there. Then I shrug when I realize they're expecting an answer.

"Just some sleep. I'll see you guys next race weekend." I wave them off, fake yawning into the back of my hand. Never a fool to my lies, Logan steps into the door frame. Just... welcoming himself in. I don't argue, though something tells me I wouldn't win anyway. Danny and Charles watch cautiously as Logan crosses the room to sit on the edge of my bed, pressing his hand to my temple.

"You're not sick." He murmurs, "just a stress migraine this time, then?"

"You--huh?" I blink and Logan smiles party, a soft blush on his cheeks only illuminated by the light in the hallway.

"You always get migraines when you're stressed or when you've got a fever, Isa." He squeezes my wrist, watching my face carefully, "If you don't feel hot when you have a migraine, it's just stress."

“I know. It’s just been a hard adjustment.” I shrug and Logan nods.

“Adjustings a bitch.” he says and I laugh softly as he frowns, "have you taken meds?"

"Wasn't able to get up and grab them before the migraine kicked in." I say and Charles moves immediately, picking up my back pack and settling it on the edge of the bed while he roots through the side pocket to find my medication bottles. Once found, he hands them to Logan, who hands them to me while Daniel roots through the kitchenette for a water bottle.

"You guys don't have to do this." I say softly as Daniel tosses a bottle to Logan, who cracks it open and hands it to me.

"We do it because we care, not because we have to." Charles sits next to me as I take the medication and Daniel nods, sitting at the foot of the bed while Logan leans on the wall to my side.

"Thank you." I hum and then spend the next five minutes convincing Daniel and Charles to leave, and they go, with the promise that Logan will stay while I shower and get changed into comfy clothes because, according to Daniel,

"Logan's the only guy who really should be seeing that."

With a shove from Charles out the door, Daniel bids goobye and Charles follows suit. I go to get up and before I can, Logan gently sets me down.

"Relax. I'll get everything in order for you." He says softly, then pauses and turns, "they're still as bad as they were with Tri-- Sorry, F2?"

I note Logan cuts himself off and adjusts his words, as if trying to keep Trident a distant memory so I didn't have to think about those days anymore.

Or so he doesn't have to bring up how he still doesn't believe me about back then.

I nod.

Logan opens my suitcase, dodging the underwear and bras, and finds a Ferrari team shirt and a pair of baggy sweats for me. He dissapears into the bathroom and I hear the shower running while he comes back out to grab my hair stuff from the same little bag I've always kept it in before he dissapears again. The medication is kicking in, so a bit of the big edge of the migraine is starting to fade.

Logan comes to my side, laying a cold compress across my forehead as he hums, "Do you have the magnesium and the lavender still?"

"Magnesium I already took with my Maxalt. Lavender is over here." I point to the bedside table and he nods once he spots it, then asks,

"How about an ice cap?"

"In the freezer."

"Other meds?"

"Triphala churan is in my bag, I have the other homeopathy stuff with it."

Logan nods once more, using one of my hands to keep the towel in place for a few moments while he moves to fully draw the curtains closed and he clicks off all the ambiant lighting save for one small orangey lamp off to the far side of the room just so we can see.

"Come on, lets get you up. Get those tense muscles relaxed and get you cleaned up."

It shocks me how much Logan remembers from my migraine attacks, and though this is the acute point where I'm the worst, I find it easier to manage with him at my side.

He brings me into the bathroom, where he's set everything out. Even my skincare is set next to the sink.

"I'll be in the bedroom." He says from the doorway, "I'll leave the door cracked so you have a bit of light but I promise I'm not peeking."

His playful grin makes me tiredly smile as I thank him as he leaves, and I turn to feel the water. It's the perfect temperature. If I didn't already have a searing headache, I might've started crying. I take the time to wash my hair and body, lavender filling the room. It was what was in most of my soaps, considering it helped my headache flare-ups and migraines. I swear I hear Logan open and close the door to the room, but chalk it up to the sound of my headache ringing in my ears.

When I get out of the shower, I dry off and change as quickly as possible, hoping to be able to get out of the bathroom before standing too long made my migraine flare. I manage to do my skincare, which is a bonus, and as I step into the bedroom I smell some sort of food.

Logan is doing something in the kitchenette as so I stumble over and pop my chin on his shoulder to see him making up two little salmon and rice bowls he must've gotten from carry out.

"Feeling better?" He hums softly and I shrug, closing my eyes and sighing heavily. I feel his hesitation, before an arm snakes around my waist and pulls me close to him.

"Salmon is supposed to help with migraines so I got these bowls from this place Zhou recommended nearby." Logan says, dropping his shoulder under mine so he can lift me up. He carries me over to the bed and sets me down, allowing me to tuck myself in while he brings over the food and sits across from me.

"if my head didn't hurt so much I'd have a genuine thank you coming out of my mouth." I say before taking a chomp of the food and rolling my eyes at the absolutely amazing taste. Logan just laughs softly, taking his own bite and opening his eyes wide.

"Oh shit, this is really good." He says once he swallows, then his eyes peek up to mine with a tiny grin as he says, "and definitely not on my meal plan."

With the mix of my medication, the excess of magnesium in my system, the lavender, and a warm shower followed by good food, my migraine has edged off enough that I can enjoy this moment. We mostly eat in silence, even if I can tell Logan is worried. So I cock my head at him and furrow my brow, making him sigh,

"What happened today? Other than the race, I know the race stuff, but that wouldn't be worrying you because car failures are out of your control." Logan explains, making sure to keep his voice abnormally soft, "was Aakash rude on the radios again? Did something happen in Ferrari?"

"I..." letting out a long sigh I lean back into the bed cushions, "Well, yeah, I snapped at Aakash today. Ferrari wouldn't box me and I almost crashed like... four separate times. Luckily Lando or McLaren noticed something was up and had him back off."

Logan nods, listening along to every word I say.

"And then he kinda pissed me off with him being dismissive on the radio, and then cursing at me on the damn radio? And the FIA hasn't done anything about it. And then..."

I sigh, rubbing the side of my head that hurts and Logan leans back to grab the lavender oil and he pops it open to tap some along the insides of my wrists and the sides of my neck without me even asking. So I keep talking.

"And then I heard Charles and Fred talking and... and Fred said 'You are more important than some girl' to Charles and they've just been using me like Trident used Viscaal. Which is just..." I stare Logan dead in the eyes as I grumble, "so ironic."

"Jesus." Logan says after a beat, running his hand through his hair as he sets down his half empty salmon bowl on the bed to adjust how he's seated, "Okay, so, Ferrari's treating you like shit which is why you have this migraine, right? Nothing else?"

"Nothing else." I clarify, "everything else has been absolutely wonderful."

The 'even you' goes unsaid.

Logan laughs softly and rhen groans, running his hand through his hair as he stares up at the ceiling, "I'm sorry Aakash is being a dick, thats not cool of him. And for Fred to say that? I really hope he just messed up his words in translation."

"God, me too." I sigh, finishing off the last of my bowl and leaning across Logan to set it on the bedside. He sets his bowl in mine and then turns to help me get under the blankets so I can finally get some well deserved rest.

I can sense the tension in Logan, and take his hand, rubbing it like a massage as I murmur, "I know mentioning Trident makes this odd bubble of tension between us, and I'm sorry, but god now that I know how Viscaal must've felt I really feel like shit. Why did they make him do that..? What was even the point of crashing into you? We had like four races left in the season, I could've made up the points."

"Trident wanted their Renault fame." He shrugs, looking over at me as I barely poke out of the blankets, just my hands out to hold his.

“It’s probably stupid to bring it back up but I need you to know I genuinely had nothing to do with Viscaal and Trident.” I say and Logan sighs, adjusting the way he’s seated as he says,

“Let’s not ruin a nice moment.”

We talk for so long Logan ends up sleeping in the same bed as me. His arm is wrapped loosely around my waist as my head is tucked in the crook of his neck. It’s safe. It’s definitely not platonic, but it’s safe, and it’s what I need.

So far it's been:

Bahrain, P3,

Saudi, P5,

Australia, P8,

Japan, P4,

China, P7,

and now it's Miami, where I land a solid P10 after Carlos clearly attempts to knock me off the track entirely and runs me into the gravel. I have to fight for my way back up from P20, and Carlos gets himself and Red Bull a 10 second penalty for aggressive driving. I'm impressed with the run some of the back drivers give me (especially Haas and Alpine) but I'm frustrated in general with my finish, I had been doing so well I could’ve easily ended top three, but here I am scoring a singular point.

What could've been more is fucked over when Carlos in P4 swings purposefully wide and damages my front wing, knocking me off the track but not enough for me to fail to recover. We both have to box to check damages, and are both cleared to continue. Everyone can feel my anger in Ferrari, so Aakash doesn’t even bother with saying anything on the radio other than what he needs to.

When we finish, I pull up and wait for podium in the drivers room. I always go to support Charles, and I can tell it means a lot to him when he spots me in the crowd and a big grin pokes across his face.

He walks back to the paddock with me, an arm slung over my shoulder as we talk about anything but the race, and when we get back he excuses himself from the team to pull me into his drivers room.

"You alright?" Charles asks immediately, sitting on his PT bed and wiping his face off with a towel.

"I'm fine, but it's just-- ugh, It's not fair!" I complain to Charles as I pace the length of the tiny drivers room, "I don't know what he has against me!"

"Danny," Charles sighs, running a hand through his hair, "Be proud of what you did accomplish today. Seriously, a wonderful ten place overtake in only seven or so laps! You did amazing tonight, even with that fuck up from Carlos."

"You've been podium every race except for Australia." I snip, whipping around so hard my braid whacks the side of my face, "What I would do to be able to get up there... it's just annoying some drivers have made it their agenda to get me off the track! Carlos has no reason to nearly knock me off the track multiple times today!"

"Carlos is frustrated Ferrari dropped him for you. He'll pretend to be amicable over at Red Bull but he's fucking miserable." Charles sighs, "Ferrari's been no help either, they've yet to pay him the rest of his contract."

—

Imola proves to be more difficult than I expected.

And everything is surprisingly going well.

“My steering is going out!” I curse, trying to stabilize myself—waiting for a red flag or a safety or something. Where the fuck is this safety car for the crash?

I steer too hard, clipping the front of Oscar’s tire on the slick of the still drying rain and spinning out. I feel the gravel as the car spins and then the world rocks when I hit the wall. I can't breathe for a moment, breath caught in my chest as I grip my seatbelts.

"Fuck." I whisper, groaning aloud as I try to blink my brain back into order. It's like someone's hit me in the gut. My first F1 crash, not a terrible one, but I hope I didn't also take Oscar out with me. As I catch my breath, I begin to adjust in my seat so I can get out. No one calls over the radio for a moment, and then,

"Dhanishka, is the car okay?"

"I'm gonna get them fined for this bullshit." Olivia mutters, helping me sit down on my bed. I don't reply as she hands me a change of clothes and then gives me a soft hug, the painkillers slowly kicking in and making my dull pain fade, but my migraine fights through. Because of course it does. Once I feel a bit better, I wave her off to go home and she reluctantly does after ensuring someone will swing by my hotel later to check on me. It ends up being Logan, because of course it is.

And my migraine flares when Aakash knocks, entering my room. He's still got his headphones on, and I bite back about thirty insults as he crosses his arms.

"Feel better?"

"No." I huff, "and your precious car is fine."

"Listen, we're pushing you because we need you to be a better driver." The mechanic looks at me, arms taught over his chest and I wish it was still Ami in charge of my comms.

“Dhanishka—“ Aakash tries and I whip around, pointing at him and watching his face fill with shock as I finally snap under the pressure of the weekend.

“[Charles was frustrated—]”

I cut Aakash off, screaming, “[And I nearly killed myself out there because none of you would help! Do you think I wasn’t also frustrated?!]”

“Listen, I—“

I just sit back and watch, like a movie goer, as the world around me fades in my mind.

taglist (open, and thank you to those on it now!)

@chasing-liberosis @justsomejess @struggling-with-delia

#f1 fanfic #formula one fanfiction #formula one fic #formula one fanfic #f1 fic #logan sargeant fic #logan sargeant fanfic #ls2 fanfiction #ls2 fanfic #ls2 fic

29 notes · View notes

vespaporn · 3 years

Text

WHEELS

It Looks Like a Vespa, Rides Like a Vespa, but Doesn’t Smell Like a Vespa

An Irish mechanic in London has developed a kit to transform classic Italian scooters into clean-riding electric machines.

By Nick Czap

April 1, 2021, 6:00 a.m. ET

Among the iconic designs of Italy’s vibrant postwar period, few capture the essence of La Dolce Vita like Vespas and Lambrettas, the free-spirited motor scooters that brought mobility to the masses and became beloved across Italy, and subsequently, the world.

While the two companies still make scooters, those early models — whose whining two-stroke engines spew plumes of aromatic smoke — are by far the most sought by collectors, some commanding up to $30,000.

But just as vintage scooters are reaching a new peak of popularity, a wave of emissions regulations aimed at reducing pollution threatens their access to Europe’s city centers. Within every regulation, though, lies an opportunity, and one lifelong scooter enthusiast has seized it firmly by the tailpipe.

Niall McCart, an Irishman from the city of Armagh, got his first Vespa at 16. De rigueur for a youth swept up in Britain’s early-1980s Mod revival, the Vespa was eminently practical as well.

“A two-stroke is a very simple mechanical structure,” Mr. McCart said, with a modesty common to the mechanically gifted. “I could fix it with a screwdriver and a hammer” — an ability that would eventually serve him well on rallies along the English coast, and on extended tours of Europe and India.

In 1989, at the age of 21, Mr. McCart moved to London, where, after stints in the building trade and delivering packages on a Vespa, he began working as a mechanic at a scooter shop. In 2000, he opened his own concern in a garden shed. Today, his business, Retrospective Scooters, occupies a 3,500-square-foot warehouse in the East End town of Walthamstow.

As Mr. McCart’s business grew, so did restrictions on older vehicles. The European Union’s first Low Emission Zones were established in 1996. By 2018, there were over 260, and still rising.

London has one such zone, as well as an extra-stringent Ultra Low Emission Zone, in the city center. Introduced in April 2019, the more stringent zone will expand substantially this October. To drive inside it, owners of polluting scooters must pay a daily fee of 12.50 pounds (about $17). Failure to pay can result in a hefty fine.

In 2017, with the end of cheap and dirty scootering looming, Mr. McCart posed a question to a friend and fellow scooter enthusiast, John Chubb: “Wouldn’t it be great if we could make our old Vespas electric?”

Mr. Chubb recalled the moment vividly. “We were sitting in a tent in a music festival in Cornwall, and he was saying the future is electric. I said, ‘I reckon I could build one of those.’”

He could also bring a raft of technical competencies to the project. A retired Royal Navy commander with degrees in electrical engineering and rocket science, Mr. Chubb is also an expert in anti-ship missiles, a qualification whose benefit, though perhaps unquantifiable, couldn’t hurt.

Mr. McCart’s brief was explicit. The conversion “was not to interfere in any way with the original design and setup of the scooters,” he said. “You don’t do any cutting or welding or destruction of the original chassis.” And critically important for preserving a scooter’s value, the process had to be reversible.

An encounter with a Chinese manufacturer at a motorcycle show in Milan in 2017 proved instrumental.

“The Chinese have been riding electric scooters for 15 years-plus,” Mr. McCart said. “They’ve done it and made it and perfected it. They had it all laid out.”

Mr. Chubb, meanwhile, hobnobbed with the chief technical officer of QS Motor, a firm in Zhejiang Province that makes motors for electric scooters and e-bikes.

“We had a really good conversation,” Mr. Chubb said. “I’d done a whole load of first-principles calculations about the power of an electric motor and how that would work in an electric scooter. I saw all his equations, and he and I did it exactly the same way.

“Seeing that data was very interesting,” he continued, “because we knew exactly where the sweet spot was in terms of the specifications of what we wanted to run as a motor, and we could run it more or less to optimum efficiency.”

Mr. McCart and Mr. Chubb devised the basic plan: Pull the gas tank and put a lithium-ion battery in its place, and replace the scooter’s original swing arm (which supports the engine and rear wheel) with a custom-made swing arm that holds a wheel with a built-in hub motor.

Mr. Chubb set to work on the prototype, meeting periodically with Mr. McCart, who fine-tuned various components. In June 2018, Mr. McCart unveiled their creation — an electrified 1976 Vespa Primavera — at the Vespa World Days rally in Belfast, Northern Ireland.

The initial reaction was skeptical. “These guys were purists,” Mr. McCart said. “They were against it when they seen it,” he recalled, “but as soon as they drove it to the other end of the car park and back again, they had the biggest grin on their face.”

One rider made a pivotal suggestion: “You’ve got to sell it as a kit.” Mr. McCart, who had planned to offer electric conversions only as a service, embraced the idea. “I thought, ‘He’s right. I’ve got to make it really simple.’ The next step was to try and make a plug-and-play kit.”

Three years later, Retrospective Scooters sells kits for five types of vintage Vespas and Lambrettas. Costing £3,445 (about $4,750), each includes a 64-volt, 28-amp-hour battery that can push a scooter to a top speed of 50 miles an hour and go 30 to 35 miles on a charge.

Certain scooters can accommodate two or three batteries. A Lambretta GP for instance, packed with three lithium-ion units, can go 120 miles between charges. Mr. McCart, though, thinks a single battery is sufficient.

“Let’s not forget what scooters were invented for — traveling in a 20-to-30-mile radius of where you lived,” he said.

To date, Mr. McCart has sold 60 kits — 24 in Britain (20 of them installed at his shop), and 36 to customers overseas, mostly, and somewhat surprisingly to Mr. McCart, in the United States.

“I expected more to go into Europe,” he said, “but there’s quite a lot of bureaucracy and official inspections of any vehicle alterations, so there’s really no incentive for Europeans to buy our kit with all that up against them.

Last summer, Danny Montoya, the owner of a children’s woodworking studio in San Francisco, installed a kit in his 1973 Vespa Rally 180. Mr. Montoya had owned the scooter since 1999, but in recent years had grown uneasy with its pollution, not to mention the constant reek of petroleum.

A capable do-it-yourselfer, he initially considered cobbling together his own electric kit with information gleaned from internet message boards, but when he came across Mr. McCart’s, he said, he thought: “Whoa, this guy has actually done the work.” Although the price gave him pause, after corresponding with Mr. McCart, who promised to assist with any technical issues, Mr. Montoya said, “OK, this is legit.”

Mr. Montoya estimates he spent 20 to 30 hours on the project, the most complex part of which, he said, was ensuring that all of the electrical connections were correct. Mr. McCart acknowledges that at the time, in late 2020, the installation guide was rudimentary. Since then, he explained, the design of the kit and the instructions have been improved so that someone with basic mechanical skills should be able to complete the installation in about 16 hours.

These days, Mr. Montoya seeks any excuse to ride his electrified machine, which performs just as advertised, delivering 30 miles on a charge, even on San Francisco’s hills. Recalling his first ride, Mr. Montoya said: “It was very weird. A normal scooter is so loud, all you hear is the motor. This is so quiet, all you hear is the wind.”

On a recent afternoon, as Mr. Montoya did a few drive-bys, a reporter struggled to discern which was louder — the soft hum of the motor or the sound of the tire treads licking the pavement.

The new incarnation is so stealthy, in fact, Mr. Chubb finds that “when you live in a quiet village, people walk right in front of you.” He’s looking into noise generators that could produce anything from the thrum of a Harley-Davidson to the futuristic racket of a “Star Wars” Podracer.

Mr. McCart, who commutes every day on his electrified Vespa, takes a different approach to unwary pedestrians: “I shout at them. I say, ‘Oi!’”

0 notes

orbemnews · 3 years

Link

It Looks Like a Vespa, Rides Like a Vespa, but Doesn’t Smell Like a Vespa Among the iconic designs of Italy’s vibrant postwar period, few capture the essence of La Dolce Vita like Vespas and Lambrettas, the free-spirited motor scooters that brought mobility to the masses and became beloved across Italy, and subsequently, the world. While the two companies still make scooters, those early models — whose whining two-stroke engines spew plumes of aromatic smoke — are by far the most sought by collectors, some commanding up to $30,000. But just as vintage scooters are reaching a new peak of popularity, a wave of emissions regulations aimed at reducing pollution threatens their access to Europe’s city centers. Within every regulation, though, lies an opportunity, and one lifelong scooter enthusiast has seized it firmly by the tailpipe. Niall McCart, an Irishman from the city of Armagh, got his first Vespa at 16. De rigueur for a youth swept up in Britain’s early-1980s Mod revival, the Vespa was eminently practical as well. “A two-stroke is a very simple mechanical structure,” Mr. McCart said, with a modesty common to the mechanically gifted. “I could fix it with a screwdriver and a hammer” — an ability that would eventually serve him well on rallies along the English coast, and on extended tours of Europe and India. In 1989, at the age of 21, Mr. McCart moved to London, where, after stints in the building trade and delivering packages on a Vespa, he began working as a mechanic at a scooter shop. In 2000, he opened his own concern in a garden shed. Today, his business, Retrospective Scooters, occupies a 3,500-square-foot warehouse in the East End town of Walthamstow. As Mr. McCart’s business grew, so did restrictions on older vehicles. The European Union’s first Low Emission Zones were established in 1996. By 2018, there were over 260, and still rising. London has one such zone, as well as an extra-stringent Ultra Low Emission Zone, in the city center. Introduced in April 2019, the more stringent zone will expand substantially this October. To drive inside it, owners of polluting scooters must pay a daily fee of 12.50 pounds (about $17). Failure to pay can result in a hefty fine. In 2017, with the end of cheap and dirty scootering looming, Mr. McCart posed a question to a friend and fellow scooter enthusiast, John Chubb: “Wouldn’t it be great if we could make our old Vespas electric?” Mr. Chubb recalled the moment vividly. “We were sitting in a tent in a music festival in Cornwall, and he was saying the future is electric. I said, ‘I reckon I could build one of those.’” He could also bring a raft of technical competencies to the project. A retired Royal Navy commander with degrees in electrical engineering and rocket science, Mr. Chubb is also an expert in anti-ship missiles, a qualification whose benefit, though perhaps unquantifiable, couldn’t hurt. Mr. McCart’s brief was explicit. The conversion “was not to interfere in any way with the original design and setup of the scooters,” he said. “You don’t do any cutting or welding or destruction of the original chassis.” And critically important for preserving a scooter’s value, the process had to be reversible. An encounter with a Chinese manufacturer at a motorcycle show in Milan in 2017 proved instrumental. “The Chinese have been riding electric scooters for 15 years-plus,” Mr. McCart said. “They’ve done it and made it and perfected it. They had it all laid out.” Mr. Chubb, meanwhile, hobnobbed with the chief technical officer of QS Motor, a firm in Zhejiang Province that makes motors for electric scooters and e-bikes. “We had a really good conversation,” Mr. Chubb said. “I’d done a whole load of first-principles calculations about the power of an electric motor and how that would work in an electric scooter. I saw all his equations, and he and I did it exactly the same way. “Seeing that data was very interesting,” he continued, “because we knew exactly where the sweet spot was in terms of the specifications of what we wanted to run as a motor, and we could run it more or less to optimum efficiency.” Mr. McCart and Mr. Chubb devised the basic plan: Pull the gas tank and put a lithium-ion battery in its place, and replace the scooter’s original swing arm (which supports the engine and rear wheel) with a custom-made swing arm that holds a wheel with a built-in hub motor. Mr. Chubb set to work on the prototype, meeting periodically with Mr. McCart, who fine-tuned various components. In June 2018, Mr. McCart unveiled their creation — an electrified 1976 Vespa Primavera — at the Vespa World Days rally in Belfast, Northern Ireland. The initial reaction was skeptical. “These guys were purists,” Mr. McCart said. “They were against it when they seen it,” he recalled, “but as soon as they drove it to the other end of the car park and back again, they had the biggest grin on their face.” One rider made a pivotal suggestion: “You’ve got to sell it as a kit.” Mr. McCart, who had planned to offer electric conversions only as a service, embraced the idea. “I thought, ‘He’s right. I’ve got to make it really simple.’ The next step was to try and make a plug-and-play kit.” Three years later, Retrospective Scooters sells kits for five types of vintage Vespas and Lambrettas. Costing £3,445 (about $4,750), each includes a 64-volt, 28-amp-hour battery that can push a scooter to a top speed of 50 miles an hour and go 30 to 35 miles on a charge. Certain scooters can accommodate two or three batteries. A Lambretta GP for instance, packed with three lithium-ion units, can go 120 miles between charges. Mr. McCart, though, thinks a single battery is sufficient. “Let’s not forget what scooters were invented for — traveling in a 20-to-30-mile radius of where you lived,” he said. To date, Mr. McCart has sold 60 kits — 24 in Britain (20 of them installed at his shop), and 36 to customers overseas, mostly, and somewhat surprisingly to Mr. McCart, in the United States. “I expected more to go into Europe,” he said, “but there’s quite a lot of bureaucracy and official inspections of any vehicle alterations, so there’s really no incentive for Europeans to buy our kit with all that up against them.” Last summer, Danny Montoya, the owner of a children’s woodworking studio in San Francisco, installed a kit in his 1973 Vespa Rally 180. Mr. Montoya had owned the scooter since 1999, but in recent years had grown uneasy with its pollution, not to mention the constant reek of petroleum. A capable do-it-yourselfer, he initially considered cobbling together his own electric kit with information gleaned from internet message boards, but when he came across Mr. McCart’s, he said, he thought: “Whoa, this guy has actually done the work.” Although the price gave him pause, after corresponding with Mr. McCart, who promised to assist with any technical issues, Mr. Montoya said, “OK, this is legit.” Mr. Montoya estimates he spent 20 to 30 hours on the project, the most complex part of which, he said, was ensuring that all of the electrical connections were correct. Mr. McCart acknowledges that at the time, in late 2020, the installation guide was rudimentary. Since then, he explained, the design of the kit and the instructions have been improved so that someone with basic mechanical skills should be able to complete the installation in about 16 hours. These days, Mr. Montoya seeks any excuse to ride his electrified machine, which performs just as advertised, delivering 30 miles on a charge, even on San Francisco’s hills. Recalling his first ride, Mr. Montoya said: “It was very weird. A normal scooter is so loud, all you hear is the motor. This is so quiet, all you hear is the wind.” On a recent afternoon, as Mr. Montoya did a few drive-bys, a reporter struggled to discern which was louder — the soft hum of the motor or the sound of the tire treads licking the pavement. The new incarnation is so stealthy, in fact, Mr. Chubb finds that “when you live in a quiet village, people walk right in front of you.” He’s looking into noise generators that could produce anything from the thrum of a Harley-Davidson to the futuristic racket of a “Star Wars” Podracer. Mr. McCart, who commutes every day on his electrified Vespa, takes a different approach to unwary pedestrians: “I shout at them. I say, ‘Oi!’” Source link Orbem News #doesnt #rides #Smell #Vespa

0 notes

tech2reveal · 6 years

Text

15 tips and tricks for Lenovo Moto G4 and G4 Plus

The latest Moto G and G4, this year remains among the champions of value for money. While it is intended for tight budget users, this does not necessarily imply a restriction on functionality. With a new photosensor and a larger screen, this new generation offers a lot of features that are not always obvious to discover. Here are our tips to make the most of your new smartphone.

personalization

1. Show percentages

When you turn on your smartphone for the first time and navigate through the menus, we quickly notice the similarities with Android "pure", which is also called "stock": the interface is simple and light. Maybe even a little too much, since the battery percentage is not displayed by default, which quickly becomes annoying. However, there is an option - pretty well hidden - to display it in the battery icon of the notification bar.

The manipulation is as follows: Expand the notification panel and locate the Parameter icon at the top right. Hold for about 3 seconds (you should see the wheel spin). If the operation succeeds, a message saying " System UI Tuner has been enabled " should be displayed. All you have to do is go to Settings> System UI Tuner and activate the percentages.

2. Organize quick settings

In the same menu - System UI Tuner - you can also find an option to rearrange the shortcuts in the notifications pane or delete them if they are never used. The option is therefore available in System UI Tuner> Quick Setup. Subsequently, simply drag and drop shortcuts to the desired location.

3. Adjust the colors of the screen

The ability to "change" the colors of the screen is one of the few features that Lenovo has included in its settings (the previous ones being related to Android itself) so that they are closer to reality, or otherwise more saturated, contrasting and alive. To be defined according to your tastes.

To access this menu, go to Settings> Display> Color Mode, and select the option that best suits you between normal and vivid.

4. Use Google Now benefits

As you know, Lenovo has bought Motorola and it is very clear that the design of Moto G4 and G4 Plus has been influenced by the Chinese giant. On the other hand, the software part, it remained faithful to what Motorola used to propose. Indeed, the launcher installed by default is none other than Google Now. Simple and fast, his strengths are in his features such as Now Cards, or Now on Tap.

To activate them, it is not complicated, and it will change your life. It will, therefore, go to the home screen and make a long press on an empty part, then enter the Settings. From this interface, you can activate Maps, Now on Tap or even some subtle features like rotating the home page.

5. Control the time of animations

There is probably nothing more satisfying than a fluid transition between two menus. On the other hand, it is true that this can occasionally lead to a waste of time. Although we are talking here only a few microseconds, it is still noticeable.

If we approach the subject is that there is, of course, a way, playing with the developer options, to partially change the duration of animations, so that they are more or less long depending on your needs.

Are you interested and do not know how? Find all the instructions in our folder on Accelerating your Android smartphone.

Optimization

6. Use dual SIM

The G4 and G4 Plus supports dual-SIM technology. Its use is very practical, especially for professionals, since they allow them to use a phone with two different numbers. The placement may seem scary at first glance, but when you take a closer look, it is not.

The first step is to introduce the cards into their respective slots by detaching the back shell. You will then have to go to Settings and select the SIM Cards sub-menu, where the two nano SIM cards should now appear. Afterward, all you have to do is configure them to act as you wish. To do this, tap Usage Profile.

An assistant will guide you through the process by asking you a few simple questions about how you want to use it and if the self-management system fails, which network should take the default hand.

7. Another way to take pictures

When it comes to taking a picture, it is not always easy to find and keep the correct position to avoid a blur ... Lenovo has therefore included an alternative to the traditional shooting button by offering the possibility of taking a picture by pressing anywhere on the screen.

Once the camera application is launched, a swipe from the left of the screen to the right will take you to the settings where you will find the Shutter Type> Anywhere option on the screen. This tip will not be useful for everyone but can be handy for those who want to take pictures quickly.

If the moto actions are unable to work in your Motorola mobile. If that is the case, it’s better to reach the nearest Authorized Motorola service center for better assistance.

8. Lock autofocus

The Moto G4 and G4 Plus proved to be amazing in terms of photography (compared to their price) by proving that they were able to take good shots day and night. But it does not stop there. There is indeed a feature to maximize the chances of getting good results through the " autofocus lock ".

This simple but effective technique is therefore to block the focus. Once you have found the right grip, prolonged focus on the autofocus will lock it, ensuring perfect focus even when you move.

9. Lock apps with the fingerprint sensor

This trick only applies to the Moto G4 Plus, since its standard version does not have a fingerprint reader. Thus, the device running Android 6.0 Marshmallow, third-party applications can access the API of the sensor and therefore use it.

As a result, an application such as App Lock can bring new features: the ability to lock sensitive applications with your fingerprint.

10. Move applications to the microSD card

The Moto G4 and G4 Plus come in two storage variants: 32 and 64 GB, which is probably sufficient for the vast majority of users. Nevertheless, over time, the internal space will fill up, especially if you use heavy applications like Pokémon Go (80+ MB) or other GPS solutions that can quickly exceed the GB of data.

This is where you can take advantage of the support of the microSD card and its integration in Marshmallow. It is, therefore, possible to move the greedy apps to the microSD card. To do this, first, enter the SD card and go to Settings> Storage and USB. From there you should collect your card. Click on the three small dots on the right> Settings> Format as internal storage> Delete and format.

Now that your SD card is an integral part of your internal memory, all you have to do is go to Settings> Applications and choose the applications you want to move one by one, selecting the storage option from their respective menus..

Moto App by Lenovo

11. Launch the camera app quickly

Each constructor in his way to open the camera faster. There are three on the Moto G4 / Plus.

The first is in the phone settings > Display and is called " double tap the power button to trigger the camera " which is relatively explicit. Pressing the volume button twice will trigger the launch of the application.

The second is in the Moto app > Gestures> Shake to take a picture. Once activated, you simply turn your wrist twice, regardless of the direction of the phone, to trigger the camera.

Finally the third is probably the most obvious and known, it is to make a swipe from the bottom right corner of the phone on the lock screen to launch the camera.

12. Turn on the fashion flashlight by a wrist stroke

Relatively similar to the movements required to activate the camera, the flash can light up with a preset motion that represents a quick shake from top to bottom. As before, the option is also activated in the application Moto> Gestures> Slice to illuminate.

13. Silence your phone quickly

To prevent you from being disturbed in the middle of dinner, Lenovo offers a clever tool. After activating the " Return to Do Not Disturb " option located in Moto> Gestures, simply turn the phone face-to-face to enter Do Not Disturb mode.

14. Mute the phone ring when making an incoming call

Do you ever get phone calls from someone you do not want to answer? You can not hang up because that would be rude, so you have to endure the ringing minute ... Well no. With the Moto G4 / Plus, you can simply take your phone in hand and the ringtone will cut itself.

To activate it, you will have to go to the Moto application, enter the Gestures option and locate the worm to turn off the ringtone, which contains the switch on / off.

15. Discover the ambient display

Also in this same application, besides the Gestures, we can also find the submenu Screen that includes the features of the now famous Moto Display, allowing smarter viewing notifications on the lock screen. Initiator of the Always-on-Display found on the Samsung Galaxy S7 and the LG G5, this original feature is also present on Moto G4 and G4 Plus.

To access it, navigate in the famous Moto to Screen application. This is where you'll find all the options to make this notification center even smarter by restricting its hours of activity, for example, or by preventing specific notifications from being displayed.

1 note · View note

worldcakecakecake · 6 years

Text

The Society of Romulus and Remus

Ludwig is the product of a centuries old curse that transforms him into a dangerous werewolf. His only chance for a cure is with Feliciano, heir to the Society of Romulus and Remus, a group of hunters who hunt on the supernatural.

Chapter 8

“Now, are you sure you don’t want anyone accompanying you?” Augusto still insisted, coming close, making sure that Lovino was appropriately dressed, earlier making sure that he had packed all that he needed, even giving him some extra small weapons to keep in his pockets if anything.

“Nonno, stop worrying, I’ll be fine, I’ve done worst trips than this,” Lovino assured, coming close to the group of people saying goodbye as they waited for the bus doors to open in preparation to leave.

“Be safe still,” Feliciano worried just as much.

“There’s still the wave of werewolves in the area,” Augusto reminded.

“So? I’ve done my fair share of hunting already. I can take them,” he was confident, already tapping the pocket where he kept everything specifically for werewolves. That’s when the bus roared, when the doors opened and all the travelers began their ascend, wishing last goodbyes and hugs, one Lovino had to participate in, especially with worry warts as his grandfather and younger brother. Feliciano held the tightest and longest embrace, swaying and wanting to coax Lovino enough to staying.

“It’ll be only two weeks,” Lovino assured him.

“Still, I’ll miss you so badly,” Feliciano pouted on his shoulder.

“Oh come on, you’ve dealt with months without me, what is this going to be? Tell you what, I’ll bring you a gift, just like I used to, ask away and I’ll do what I can to bring it,” he promised with that rare pure smile and loving intent in his eyes. It spread over to Feliciano, excited over the millions of possibilities he could have, that he knew Lovino would give him. He stayed pensive as he jumped in his spot thinking, licking his lips and looking above as if his sure idea could fall from the sky.

“Flowers! Bring me the prettiest flowers you see in the trip, and I’ll make us both the most wonderful crowns,” he decided, excited already and many designs surely presented in his mind to create.

Lovino rolled his eyes at such a childish and calm idea, but nodded in sureness, one last embrace before he decided to move away, a last wave to his family as he boarded, the last member the driver was waiting for, once having him in, already settling off to the hidden road that would soon bring them back to the bustling of normal civilization away from the lives of the base and hunt. Augusto and Feliciano didn’t leave until they saw it disappear with the darkness of the hidden tunnel, gone and to deal with everything how Lovino could. All they could wish for was luck and their uttermost blessing.

No matter the personal turmoil, Feliciano was expected to go on with his usual daily lesson with Ludwig. Augusto himself had insisted and he decided on being obedient, down the usual routes of the base, into the building and up to his office, trying to erase the sadness from earlier with a blow and an opening into the room. To his surprise, he met Ludwig packing some things from his office into a small bag…which took his own seat, leaving him standing there awkwardly as he watched his instructor move about the room.

“Um…” he tried to get his attention wondering what he should do.

“Ah yes, Feliciano, about your lessons the next two weeks,” he worried about now as he brought his GPS to pack in a safe area, the last item in one of his pockets before he sealed it.

“Uh…are you leaving?” Feliciano wondered as much.

“Got assigned a mission in Lithuania."

“Lithuania? With all the werewolf sightings?”

“Exactly. They need some extra hands on defending some of the smaller villages and they decided on recruiting me on that brigade."

“So, you’re leaving?” Feliciano was startled and confused, Ludwig was not one to do his business so suddenly, especially when he was in the midst of dealing with instructing the leader’s grandson.

“Yes, in about,” he checked his watch, “thirty minutes. My rental should be arriving then and I would head off instantly.” He went to some cabinets at the other side of the room checking if there were some weapons he should bring from the ones there.

“For how long?” Feliciano followed him all throughout.

“I’ll try to make it a week and a half. I already told them I can’t stay longer, I should only really be focusing on your teachings.” Done, there was nothing else to pack, he could close his bag in finalization.

“And…what about my lessons then?” Feliciano wondered, a sudden excitement within him as he already celebrated some days of relaxation and freedom. He didn’t hide it enough as Ludwig glared and was already suspicious.

“I’m leaving you some work to do, already numbered and organized in that folder there.” He pointed to the sole item on the desk with even a pen and pencil for Feliciano to use.

“Really?”

“I want it all done by the time I return, with no excuses or failure. You have more than enough time and chances to get help,” he grimaced and pointed to him with insisting, command and anger, clear and absolute.

“Still, I won’t let you deal with all this just by yourself.” He opened the door and-

“Feli dearie!” Gilbert shouted in instant welcome, arms expanding in his self-explosion and presentation.

“Gilbert will be substituting in the meantime. He’ll make sure you’ll be working and knows more than enough to help answer any questions you might have,” Ludwig assured, ignorant to his brother’s sudden display.

“I’ll prove myself more than capable!” He shouted in determination, with a salute as he came between them. “…being less bossy too,” he whispered to Feliciano, who chuckled but Ludwig must have heard since he glared with annoyance.

“I have to pack some last things from my room, afterwards my rental should be here and I’ll settle off." He accommodated in his mind as he maintained continuous sight on his watch. “Gilbert, don’t be a nuisance and, Feliciano, be responsible with your work and have it all done for when I return."

“Will do,” Feliciano assured for now.

“I’ll keep an eye on him,” Gilbert winked and smiled, Ludwig trusting it enough to give a sigh of luck, a turn and away into the halls, into business and away from the base.

Gilbert and Feliciano smirked with all kinds of tricks and ideas.

With their recent time together, Feliciano found himself wishing for Gilbert to be his instructor. He was easier going, he laughed, he bolstered, he made constant jokes (although sometimes bad) and didn’t roll his eyes or groan whenever Feliciano did something wrong in his writings and reports. He would turn his chair towards him, point out easily and not have him start papers and drawings all over again. They enjoyed their working by balconies, with flourishing fauna, the fresh air and the liveliness of the people commuting in the base. Gilbert didn’t rush him, in fact, they spent most of their meetings trying to hurry up and finish whatever documents Ludwig had left for the day so they could each settle on other plans of leisure. Those starting three days had been wonderful, especially when Ludwig had left Feliciano to start a particular kind of lesson that he had been expecting for quite a while now.

Feliciano dropped the old large book on the pavement, enough of a force to shake, to resound and to arise dust into the new day fresh air, coughing it away, trying to catch his breath after having to carry it from Ludwig’s office. Kiku, in his moving form, came close and peeked, spotting on its cover a wolf symbol...a Venetian mark, the very same mark Feliciano had decorated on his hand.

“Is this…?” Kiku wondered.

“Yes! Michelangela’s compendium!” Feliciano was proud, letting his hand trace the old leather, wondered at how beautiful it was and how it stuck well together despite the decades.

“How did you get this? How were you even allowed?” Kiku was dumbstruck.

“Nonno made three copies after finding it, this is one of them, the original one in his private collection, one in America and the other in the Chinese base. Ludwig left me to do a reading from this book and it gave me permission to take it out,” he explained as he finally opened it, revealing the index, titled and ordered in an old Italian, but readable and Feliciano could easily learn from it, his fingers tracing as he alighted at every word, looking for numbers and turning the pages to see how it was beautifully decorated, in extravagant letters, drawings, symbols and diagrams to go on, never missing a touch of intricacy and whimsicality.

“It is as beautiful as it has been spoken about,” Kiku delighted, truly taken by even the paper that was used, leaning more in his watching over Feliciano’s shoulder.

They explored the book together, going through all kinds of explanations of spells, magic, even detailed drawings of different kinds of creatures. There were basilisks, vampires, fairies, of course werewolves, but only one part, only one section was Feliciano’s purpose and main interest. He was welcomed into it with an intricate web design, one of a tree of life, a great symbol for what lay in the next pages.

“What exactly did Ludwig tell you to do?” Kiku still questioned and wondered. This was not a book to be given to just anyone, especially a beginner like Feliciano.

“Just read, we’ll be starting on healing for when he returns and he said there’s a lot of things here that can make it easier for me for when I start."

“How much?”

“Just two pages, but…” he gave Kiku a teasing smirk, enough to let him know that Feliciano was not going to limit himself, not when this book held something that he had been craving for so long.

Anxious he was, he quickly read his part for Ludwig’s homework, enough for the testing that he should ask at some point from Gilbert, before discarding, going on with the pages, the words, the charts, step by step explanations, an amazing concentration that didn’t budge even as Kiku floated around him. It was rather odd, but exciting and a chance for Kiku to see a side of Feliciano others rarely saw. His side of dedication, intelligence and calculation that was best Kiku moved aside to not disturb a single line of his thoughts and learning.

Feliciano spent a good amount in the book’s hold, giving a tap here and there, a hum, an alight, until finally at one moment he laid it upon the floor, a new dedication and smile.

“What is it?” Kiku wondered, quite startled.

“I think I got it! I think I know how to properly life awaken!” He announced proudly.

Holding to the book, he stood up and chose from one of the many statues in the terrace, one of a young man, with long waved hair, a particular curl rising from his center forehead, more modern with the glasses and war uniform he wore.

Kiku followed behind him curious, “who is he?”

“It’s the newest of the statues, made after World War II. It was erected to honor a Canadian soldier that had helped the base greatly in being protected from an air raid. My great grandfather wrote many good things about him and there’s a very old picture of him with Nonno as a baby.”

“So you decided on choosing him long before?”

“Yes, he seems very kind and noble. I wonder what kind of person he could really be.” Feliciano gazed up, letting its form assure him yet again, before he kneeled, placing the book properly before him, reading the enchantment and spell well. With a breath of relief, with a centering, a focus, he got it.

“Feliciano…are you sure?” Kiku still questioned.

“I’ve been using my power long before getting here, Kiku, I know my limitations, I know what I can do,” Feliciano was sure, starting his release with his closed eyes, relaxed figure, lost still in himself.

“Yes…but you’ve been doing this without proper instruction and guidance.” It was one thing that worried Kiku ever since Feliciano started testing this back when he was eight years old, when he made him awaken. But as always, it was like he didn’t listen to his words, he continued on.

A light glowed from the palm of his hand, focusing it forward as he let it lay on the statue, releasing beads of magic unto it, brightening and brightening until everything in their vicinity was left blinded. It was sudden and harsh, it distracted Feliciano, and thinking he was done, he let himself stop, to settle, to try and find vision as the strong light subsided. Kiku was in the same state despite being a spirit, for the first time in a while having to shake himself and let his whole being make use to the darkening of this terrace once again. Once it was all gone, they met with the statue not standing on its pedestal by the small stairs, but lying face down on the floor, arms and legs splayed, for a moment both wondering if it had just fallen without any result. Suddenly there was a groan, a rising of the head, adjusting his new eyes to fluttering, to watching, with big questions and surprise surely. He moved about his head, his arms causing a rise, the rest of the body joining along in its standing, still analyzing, still letting his eyes explore. Feliciano reacted to this by shrilling, jumping and letting even his arms bounce in the air in his own congratulation.

“Look Kiku, I did it! I did it! I did it! I did it!” He even hugged Kiku, spinning him in his delight, despite the huge shock that was in Kiku’s expression as if he had been shot.

Feliciano then quickly let go, deciding to offer his help for the now alive statue to stand, while Kiku composed himself, fixing his robe and trying to pretend nothing had happened.

“Oh, you look so good, and nice, and pretty, are you okay? Did the process hurt? I really tried my best and I’m so sorry if I did. Do you have any memories? Do you know your name? How are you feeling?” Feliciano pestered on as he examined, taking his arm to weigh, touching, spreading, so close that the now lively statue was feeling uncomfortable, especially when he was still examining everything anew, trying to find his own independent movements, even speech.

“Um…uh…” his gentile voice could only utter, looking around as if some obvious hint could speak for him.

“Feliciano, calm down, one thing at a time, he’s still adjusting,” Kiku commented, offering the statue a calming smile to assure there was nothing to worry about.

“Oh yes…yes, you’re right, I-I’m so sorry, may we first ask for your name please.” Feliciano moved away at Kiku’s signal, giving the statue just what he needed to…breathe he guessed.

These seconds gave him just enough peace and reaching, to present properly, for once with a friendly smile that showed the trust Feliciano had seem from the statue ever since he first spotted him here.

“He-hello, I suppose it’s a pleasure, as for name, it is-”

“Feliciano…Feliciano!” There came that distant interrupting call, surely from the halls that would lead to the terrace, an oncoming person that was unwanted to what Feliciano made here.

“Who is that?” Kiku showed his worry clear, his eyes searching for the pillar he would take as a refuge once whatever person came in.

“I…I don’t know.” He was sure it wasn’t Ludwig or Gilbert. He stayed as frozen, hoping it would be enough to hide his creation. Kiku doubted that this statue in its early birth could quickly learn such a skill.

“Feliciano!” Kiku reminded with a point, earning a gasp from the young brunet as he tried to find a quick way to hide the new statue. As the steps of the coming person became stronger, Feliciano had no other choice than to pull and push the new man into the hide of a wall, away from sudden sight, from the opening bang of the door, from the new dark eyes that settled, the statue given only but a glance from his giver begging for him to remain in his hiding.

“Ah, there you are!” The visitor greeted, taking readied strides down the steps until he stood closer to Feliciano.

“Keron, it’s great to see you!” Feliciano delighted.

“Likewise, my dear Feli, likewise,” he smiled, taking sitting in one of the pillars, settling himself for a long while and Feliciano had to try hard to hide a strain and a groan.

“I hope I’m not being rude, but what are you doing here? Did Gilbert sent you for me to do something? I was sure I didn’t have anything for today.”

“Oh no, no, no, I came here on my own accord,”

“Oh, is something the matter?”

“Oh definitely not, just wanted to see you,” he grinned uncomfortably, which made Feliciano question, tapping and leaning his foot as a show of urgency that Keron quickly caught on, deciding then to be quick about this before he lost the momentum.

“Feliciano, have you liked your time in the base?” He thought he could start.

“Um…I guess, I mean, I would have preferred to be somewhere else, but yes, it’s been nicer than what I expected. People are really kind, hardworking, so smart and with so much to-”

“Yes, yes, yes, that’s all very nice. How would you find that it would be better?” He smirked, leaning now much closer in a way that only made Feliciano move back, finding it odd.

“Um, I guess for me to leave or to just…not do all these things my grandfather wants me to do.” He was honest.

“Really? Do you really not believe that…you could…perhaps just have someone instead to make it much more interesting?” He smirked, he leaned closer, devilish and eager.

“Um…what kind of someone?” Feliciano was not following and Keron had to hold himself from smashing his head against one of the statues there.

“Perhaps…perhaps you need someone like me,” he finally reached.

“Someone like you? For what?”

“Why, for walks across the forest, for lonely nights with just us, for whatever you crave… we could even hunt and I could let you see me fight in one of my famed killings. Anyone in the base would envy you greatly if they knew you had such an opportunity,” he coaxed, he hoped Feliciano had understood enough.

“That um…that sounds really romantic, Keron.” Ah yes, this was going the directions he wanted. “All until…the killing and…hunting part that is.”

“I could make some adjustments.”

“That would be nice.”

“Do I take that as an acceptance?” He smiled, already sounding trumpets of victory in his mind, to take Feliciano to those instant words and have him be his.

“Keron, that is all…very kind and thoughtful of you, but I’m…doing quite well by myself and I don’t think I would need something like that to add to what I’m going through. I’m sure you could find somebody else to do all those fun things, maybe someone who likes to see you hunting,” Feliciano smiled sincerely, all while Keron’s demeanor began to fall.

“So…you’re denying me?”

Feliciano tried to think of something that wouldn’t sound so harsh or mean, but as he took a glance to the statue, who was surely nervous, peeking, close to a reveal, not to mention Kiku was also starting to stir from his position just as wondering about that interaction with this fellow, Feliciano realized he had to hurry.

“I’m really sorry, Keron, but I…don’t have that kind of interest in you and the kind of life you have here,” he revealed warily, dreading how mean he surely sounded, but he really had to hurry and he had to set straight his wishes when it came to others.

“I also would really like if you would leave me for now, I’m doing some…studies that really need my attention and I can’t have distractions…sorry,” he leaned in apology, an intent with a beautiful shine in his eyes that was enough to not have Keron punching him. He still slammed a fist against a marbled rail, surely cracking, making Feliciano worry over the statue that hid by its side.

“You’ll find yourself regretting this decision Feliciano Valenti, you made quite a loss today.” In a quick swish, in harshened steps, in a loud bang of the entrance door, he was gone, creating a nervous atmosphere in this place that Feliciano had liked to consider of peace.

Finding everything clear, Kiku materialized himself fully by Feliciano’s side, and the other statue began crawling back into the light, joining them as well.

“Who was that?” Kiku instantly questioned.

Feliciano sighed, “it’s…nobody you should concern much about, it’s my own dealing.” His gaze then returned to the new statue, his new presence enough to alight Feliciano with stupor and want again. “Sorry, now we can properly introduce ourselves. What is your name?”

The statue brimmed, “Mathew Williams.”

Lovino closed the trunk, all the items inside safe and ready for the new trip.

“Are you sure you don’t want to stay longer?” Toris asked him, his Lithuanian client to who Lovino had just brought the sword to the Baltic base.

“A lot of members would want these items quick and I still have other items to carve back at my own base. I want to get them done as soon as possible.”

“I’m sure they can wait, if anything we can offer our own workshop.”

“I feel more comfortable in mine.” Lovino went forward to open the door to the driver seat of the car he was loaned.

“If you’re settled, then very well, but please be careful on the road, werewolf activity has been very high in these areas and we have already lost some of our men to them. We had to call members from your own base to deal with them, even Ludwig is here.”

Lovino rolled his eyes at the mentioning of his name, taking sitting and closing the door, adjusting himself before the wheel.

“Don’t underestimate me, I’m just as capable as that bastard,” Lovino addressed him as such without a care, dreading how people wouldn’t confide in him enough just because he hadn’t reached the levels and badges Ludwig did. Lovino has only been in the base for two years, Ludwig for five, of course he would have more time to get tittles and missions. He wished his grandfather wasn’t so paranoid and worried over his protection to give him some of the harder tests and missions.

“I wish you farewell and an immense amount of luck. Send us a text or a call letting us know you drove through Poland all right."

“Will do.”

It was their last exchange before Lovino turned the engine and Toris moved away, Lovino taking instant leaving into the route planned for him. A single wave and the Baltic base began to hide again in the deep forest that encircled it deeply in secrecy. It took a while for Lovino to reach a main road, and with the late hour, it was still as vacant as his thread through the forest. In his boredom he turned on the radio, messing with the satellite installed until he found some stations from Italy, jumping from some top 40’s station to the latest news about his favorite football teams. He would bang his hands on the wheel, let himself sing along without a care, the surroundings nonexistent as he let himself enjoy what would be many hours of driving to get back.

As he swore he was soon meeting with the Lithuanian-Polish border, all his sudden joyous swaying was interrupted by the all too familiar glow of his own wolf mark. His was the Neapolitan one, spinning around his arm, most of the time covered, but the glow enough to show through his darkened clothes. It was designed specifically for it to do as such.

He instantly stopped, the car halting in the very middle of the road. Whoever was behind could pass right through, Lovino didn’t care when he had other things to worry about. He slicked back his sleeve and saw clearly how his mark resounded in light, signaling the approach of the monsters his very line was born to hunt. He took a moment to breathe out any kind of fear, find his bravery, his hand reaching to the back, finding through the mess of weapons his riffle, his long thin sword, some freezing ponds as well as some net capturing ones. With all his items settled, he dared bring an opening to his door, weary from that very instant he met with the cold and fresh air, closing the door behind him, making anew his settlement to begin this mission, end it and bring forward a price to his base. Maybe then his grandfather will finally see, maybe then he would be granted some new level or badge.

There was a forest right before him, dark, foreboding, every sound haunting and hinting cries of what lay inside. He took no care, he came forward, knowing steps, his weapons already pointed and prepared, being careful as to not let any breaking branch or shell or item resound, eyes watching every space, every opening, rise, below, ducking, moving aside, even jumping and climbing trees to have a better upper watch. His glow kept blinking, which meant he or she was still far, still out of area and no matter how deep he came, no matter the small cliffs, the brooks, the boulders, the hikes up treacherous hills, nothing, in fact, his glow completely stopped, which meant it surely left, off into another forest, without hints, sites, a run or a capture. Lovino groaned as he jumped down the steep of a hill, decided on returning, on moving his weapons to lay in a hanging on his back, on defeat of nothing, murmuring curses all the way.

He knew how to return, he knew what signs to pinpoint as a lead, he wouldn’t get lost, he confided on returning. So focused he was on what he thought would be a hunt that he properly didn’t take the surroundings, the beautiful dark green under the crescent moonlight, the shines of the water, of how the rocks and boulders formed into nature’s own carved statues, into meadows, into spaces of freshness and wonder that Lovino let himself admire, let himself relax as words died out and he simply decided on wandering and watching.

As he could spot the road from a distance, as he thought he could finally leave, his eyes instead took a sudden light of color, one he couldn’t disobey, couldn’t ignore. When he gazed to the side he saw a patch of flowers, colorful, beautiful, telling him of softness and scents that moved him forward. He thought of Feliciano, knowing he would love these, knowing that this was the gift he asked, decided on his picking, leaning down and starting a bouquet with as much as he could bring.

As the form became much more divine, Lovino let himself grin at the smile Feliciano would surely wear once he saw this. He could already feel him jumping, shouts of excitement and crushing hugs that would refused to budge no matter his harshest threats. Was this enough? Were there enough colors? Should he pick from those others or settle with the nearest ones. Fuck it, take those white ones, the crazier Feliciano would get about it. It would add quite a heavenly touch that fitted him…also on himself, since he knew that Feliciano would surely make one of those stupid flower crowns for him too.

There, that should do it, now to get something to hold them, maybe even some water- his mark alighted sure, bright, intense, it was here. Growls, ferocity, lurking right behind him. Lovino pushed himself away before he was crushed by the massive black figure, by the claws, by the raging teeth that begged for a bite of this lone figure in the woods. Bruises with his roll against the floor and then a hit against a near tree, but nothing, he took out his weapons from his back and aimed, beginning his slash with his sword and the firing with his gun. It was big, probably one of the largest he had ever seen, a dark coat that didn’t suit him for his aim, for it helped it camouflaged well between the shadows. The only thing that made it stand out were the clear blue eyes, shinning quite beautifully even in its hunger, in its blinding, in its want of kill. Even if they were somehow lost, they were also targeted, keeping a heavy focus on the hunter, both spinning and avoiding in jumps, trying what they could for a slash, for a weakening that could give them a cut of harsh blood.

Hits, purpling, bits of blood flying about and coating the grass, the trees, heavy breaths, yet neither refused to back down, they continued in their clash, shouts, growls, but at one point one was to weaken, one was to fall. Lovino got a deep gush on his leg that kept oozing, slowly weakening him until it proved fatal to stand, until one push had him caged, the monster’s saliva, the blood from the cuts he managed to bring on the beast and huffs reigning down on him ready for a sweet feast, for a sated hunger. Nothing he could do had been enough, no matter some last trying kicks or punches. No, the beast held him down, baring his teeth, inching for his bite and Lovino had begun to accept.

He lost, he was gone and his last aching thoughts were that he let the flowers scatter into ruin on the ground.

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#The Society of Romulus and Remus #gerita #gerita fanfiction #gerita fanfic #gerita fic #TSORAR

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jeramymobley · 4 years

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Coronavirus: Brand Moves for Tuesday May 19

TikTok, the video app owned by China’s ByteDance, which has become wildly popular among locked-down teenagers, has hired Walt Disney Co’s top streaming executive, Kevin Mayer, as chief executive officer. Mayer led the successful launch of the Disney+ streaming service in November but in February was passed over as Disney’s new chief executive. Mayer’s appointment will be effective 1 June, when he will also become chief operating officer of ByteDance, the Chinese company said. TikTok, which allows users to create short videos with special effects, has become popular with US teenagers doing viral challenges that pair dances with music clips from the app’s library. TikTok has hinted at ambitions to build a music streaming business, announcing in January that it was partnering with the UK-based music rights agency Merlin to expand its musical selections. The hiring also suggests that ByteDance is looking to bring more of its apps to the US, potentially starting with its Facebook-like Helo platform.

Chinese tech giant Baidu will invest $70.3 million into the live-streaming sector, the company said, as it looks to take on rivals Douyin, China’s version of Tiktok, and Kuaishou in that space. The news comes as Baidu announced better-than-expected revenue for the March quarter, causing its U.S.-listed shares to rise 8%. Baidu’s vice president Shen Dou said last week that the company’s new investment will be spent on growing its live-streaming user base and attracting high quality content creators. Baidu, best known for operating a Google-like search engine, plans to boost its short video operations by sending traffic from the rest of its ecosystem to creators’ content. It will add Haokan content to its own search engine results and plans to integrate it with the short video platform run by iQiyi, a major Baidu-backed Chinese streaming platform. Ping Xiaoli, general manager of Baidu App, said that recent changes to consumer demands when it comes to live-streaming gives them a window of opportunity. “Previously, consumers used live-streaming mainly to watch others play games and perform shows, but since this year, we’ve increasingly seen people use live-streaming for a lot of other purposes such as learning,” he said.

The English soccer Premier League is investigating the use of surprise inspections, GPS tracking and video analysis to ensure clubs adhere to new safety guidance as they prepare for the resumption of the League. Teams agreed to start non-contact training in small groups from Tuesday. “Gradually, we aim to ramp that up so we can have an inspector at every training ground,” said Richard Garlick, the league’s director of football. “That will enable us to give confidence the protocols are being complied with.” He added: “We are looking at bringing in our own independent audit inspection team that we’ll scale up over the next few days which will give us the ability to have inspections at training grounds to start with on a no-notice basis.” After Monday’s ‘Project Restart’ meeting with clubs, Richard Masters, Premier League’s chief executive, also revealed that a trophy presentation for the title winners, likely to be Liverpool, remains part of the plans. He said: “We would try to do it unless it wasn’t possible because of safety concerns.” The league had previously identified 12 June for matches to possibly start again, but there is now an expectation this may need to be pushed back.

Retail data analytics firm Skypad is unveiling an app that US consumers can use to find out which stores in their area are re-opening. “We’re excited that stores are re-opening and we wanted to show it,” CEO Jay Hakami said. “That’s why we wanted to give something back to the brands that have been asking us when the stores are reopening. Nobody has that information, [but] we could showcase that information.” The app, called Open Sesame, took 10 days to build and features a map of the country which allows user to search by state and region and also by retailer (e.g. Nordstrom, Saks, Macy’s). Hakami’s team is updating the map in real time.

Cosmetics and skincare company e.l.f. is recalibrating its product lineup to include more skincare and health and wellness products, as demand for those items has spiked during the pandemic. In particular, the company launched a line of full-spectrum CBD products, which have trace amounts of THC, including a facial oil, an eye cream, a body cream and a moisturizer. The CBD line caters to consumers’ need for a moment of calm and self-care, especially in this anxiety-ridden moment for the world, according to CMO Kory Marchisotto. “What we see now is a blurring between wellness and beauty,” she said. Being first to market with innovative products is one of the things e.l.f. prides itself on, Marchisotto said. “One of things e.l.f. does brilliantly is we build on demands we hear, sentiment we hear.”

Character-collecting AR smartphone game Pokémon Go from developer Niantic went viral in 2016. However, a game that involved going outside and socializing instead of sitting on the couch with the shades drawn was a poor fit in the age of COVID-19. So Niantic has turned Pokémon Go into a game that can be more comfortably played from home. A mid-April update helped players hit PokéStops, hatch eggs, and complete raids without getting too close to other people and without traveling to locations blocked off during the quarantine. They’re also changes that Pokémon Go players who live in rural areas or who have mobility-related disabilities have been asking for for years. “We based our whole company around these three principles: we want our games to encourage people to exercise, to explore new places, and to play together in real life,” Pokémon Go developer Niantic’s CEO John Hanke said. “So all three of those things are challenged in a coronavirus world. We’ve tried really hard to find solutions that adapt the game to the current environment but don’t undermine the core essence of the game.”

Interior design- and lifestyle-focused website Apartment Therapy expected to draw some 10,000 people to Industry City in Brooklyn for its first-ever Small/Cool Experience in April. They had tapped 20 designers to curate 20 shoppable spaces under 120 square feet to highlight forecasted 2020 design trends. However, before Apartment Therapy could begin the physical builds for the two-day pop-up, the COVID-19 outbreak hit New York. So the brand reworked the idea into the Small/Cool Experience at Home, a three-day digital event benefiting Habitat for Humanity New York. The event, which ran May 15-17, featured the designers’ 20 shoppable showcases on Apartment Therapy’s homepage and event microsite. The event also incorporated the designers into three days of live and pre-recorded event programming on Instagram, which also offered interactive design games for its audience. Maxwell Ryan, CEO and founder of Apartment Therapy, said the brand chose to do a virtual event to spotlight design trends that are still relevant amid the pandemic. With the brand’s audience stuck at home and even more invested in customizing or sprucing up their living spaces, Ryan noted the event’s content would resonate. During two- to four-hour windows each day, the brand used its Instagram feed, Stories and Live to offer everything from live designer panels and show-and-tell style chats to design trivia and guided meditation. The brand also offered interactive games including scavenger hunts and mood board templates for the audience to design their own rooms and share on their Instagram Stories. Apartment Therapy also managed to keep four of its eight original sponsors for the virtual experience. The brand integrated Behr, Amazon Handmade, Chasing Paper and Tuft and Needle into the animated showcases and the Instagram programming.

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