#i know i've already written about this but i got online and saw my own reblog of vanessa and ethan and got hit with a wave of sadness again

[bigwishes]

So I’m a kinda skinny guy, try going to the gym often to keep my six pack, and there’s this guy at the gym that’s hot as hell. Sweaty, musky, bulky. Big pecs, arms, every muscle is just huge. He never looks my way though, I wish I could impress him, could you help?

he never looks your way? not from what I've heard mate, from what I hear he's be trying to find a way to ask you out for a while, he even wished for things to go smoothly so I guess things seem to be working.

You were surprised when the big hulking goliath came over and sheepishly asked you out on a date, without even a moment to think about it you jumped at the chance.

Later that night he picked you up in his black car, it was cheap and sounded like it needed a service but you weren't gonna complain about some guys car. Once you got in he sheepishly said hello, he was acting like this was his first date and you could practically hear his heart beating out of his chest. You noticed he was in workout gear whilst you were in a nice shirt and jeans.

"s-sorry I'm underdressed bro, my jeans don't fit no more"

You laughed at what you thought was a joke but there was something else behind the serious tone of his voice that had you worried. Something else, his car was a mess inside and he stunk. Sure the musky sweat was hot in the gym but when you saw sweat pouring from his pits like a waterfall and saw big sweat marks from where his hands touched his steering wheel whenever he lifted them off.

Soon you pulled up in the carpark of a junk food place. All your excitement for this date completely died off, It wasn't the gym wear that was a turn off, a guy that big clearly wants to show off, but he didn't even shower after the gym? and now junk food as a first date, not even junk food looking at the sunset on the beach or something outdoors, just junk food in the parking lot of the place. You and your nose had had enough, you were already to go home but you felt sorry for him. He was clearly shy and embarrassed, you thought it best not to make a fuss and just not call him back after the date.

The two of you had dinner in his car, You watched him practically inhale 3 deluxe family meals, 3 thick shakes and a hand full of burgers, after which he sat flexing his biceps in his rear view mirror whilst burping. He drove you home and right as you were ready to leave the car the big guy thanked you for giving him a chance, "sorry it was just take out for dinner bro, can't really get into fancy places, look I know I stink and I'm a bit muscle obsessed when I see myself in the mirror but...do you mind if I kiss you bro?"

After the worst date of your life a moment of weakness hit your heart as this giant looked down hanging his head in shame. You leant forward to give him a kiss, when he kissed you he let out a small burp that bypassed your lips, his hot breath flew straight down into your lungs. You leant back feeling like the air was flooding out of your chest to other parts of your body. Your arms ballooned out, your legs tore your jeans to shreads. You felt you underwear start to get caught up in your growing ass. Suddenly you began to sweat like a pig and you smelt a wave of B.O twice as bad as the guy sitting next to you flow out from your skin. You felt you seat grow damp and squelch beneath your now hulking frame as you shot up a foot and a half feeling your head collide with the roof of the car. You continued to change as you heard the giant speak.

"Sorry bro, I made 1 wish, a few months ago, I was dumb and horny and asked some guy to turn me into a muscle slob online, I didn't think I'd really become one. Turns out its really hard to hold down a job or a boyfriend when all you care about is size and your own B.O"

You felt your head fill with blood, you could barely remember where you were or what was going on, it was almost impossible to focus on his last words.

"at least this way we both get what we want out of it"

You head was suddenly re-written, you remember your life, and your old life was like a dream, like something that happened...but never really happened. You remember graduating highschool, but also remember flunking out, too obsessed with the gym? your head was filled with multiple memories and you didn't know what was truely yours. You turned your head to look at the guy who was now slightly shorter than you.

"eeeer?? were you sayin somthin babe? I like totally brain fogged huhu, you thanks for picking me up, lets go get take out"

With just one kiss from the guy you wanted so badly to notice you, you were erased and replaced with a new you, a stinking meat head version of yourself totally and utterly in love with the guy next to you.

#male transformation #muscle #muscle transformation #male tf #gay transformation #tf story #reality change #transformation #musk

[swimmingismywholelife]

Minecraft Christmas

Summary: When you are unable to visit Gio for Christmas, you decide to spend it together in an unconventional way.

Warnings: lots of fluff

WC: 1.4K

A/N: 🎶 On the first day of Ficmas my writer gave to me, some fluff with Giovanni 🎶 Hi everyone and welcome to Ficmas! I thought I'd start it off with someone I've written for before, Gio Reyna! This fic is inspired by "Minecraft Christmas" by Area 11 ft Simon. This song is fire no I will not apologize for using it lol. I hope you guys like it, and I hope you stick around for the rest of Ficmas!

Link for the Song: Minecraft Christmas

"Cause it's a Minecraft Christmas time

Chilling with my buddies everyone is online

There's a whole world of joy and cheer

That's a very very very nice Christmas you're having-

A very, very, very nice Christmas (Woo-ooh)

A very, very, very nice Christmas we're having this year."

~~~

"No baby, get away! Don't look it's not time!" your boyfriend said, punching the air around you in an attempt to get you away from his house.

"But Gio, I'm impatient!" you whined. "I wanna see it now!"

"Babe, it's a Christmas surprise. You have 10 minutes left. All you gotta do is wait 10 minutes!" he said, punching holes in the ground right below you.

"Okay, okay! Stop trying to hit me I got diamonds on me, my guy!" you grumbled, turning back to your house as Gio punched the air triumphantly.

Christmas had been your favorite time of year since you were a kid. Something about the atmosphere just brought life and joy into your life. And Christmas with your boyfriend was even more magical than you could've dreamed of. Your families grew up in neighboring towns coincidentally, so once the two of you began dating, you always spent it together. And if Gio wasn't able to go home, you'd travel to him instead, celebrating the holidays in whatever city he was playing in at the time. You'd decorate his home with stockings, Christmas lights, and of course, a tree with whatever quirky ornaments you'd collected over the years. When it snowed enough, you'd have snowman building competitions followed by snowball fights of epic proportions. Gio was the perfect addition to a holiday you already treasured, making it all the more special to you.

Unfortunately, this year you weren't able to spend Christmas together. You tried your hardest to align his schedule with yours, but your job was horrendously understaffed and couldn't afford to have you off for the last few weeks of the year. It was aggravating considering how much extra work you'd been putting in specifically for the holiday off, but your manager just wouldn't budge. However, Gio was more than understanding, especially considering how much you traveled to be able to see him.

So instead of allowing this to dampen your Christmas spirit, the two of you were playing on a Minecraft server together. It was a pastime the two of you often indulged in as a way to combat the time zones and do fun things together. With a controller in your hand, headphones over your ears, and his face appearing on videochat on your PC, it was an unconventional yet fun way for you to spend Christmas together.

"If you blow up my house again, I'm gonna kill you," you grumbled, spinning in circles to kill the time.

"I wouldn't do that for Christmas. Maybe New Year's. You know, for fireworks or something," He retorted, making your jaw drop.

"That's so rude!" you said offended.

He shrugged his shoulders. "You call it rude, I call it festive."

You pinched the bridge of your nose. "What am I gonna do with him?" you muttered to yourself.

"Hey, your life would be much more boring without me in it," he said nonchalantly.

You rolled your eyes, but you knew he was right. It had been a few years since you'd caught Gio's eye at a US friendly. He found you so breathtaking he literally fell for you, accidentally tripping over his own feet in front of the whole stadium. Despite the embarrassment he felt, it was worth the moment Gio saw the bright smile on your face. He was the cause of it, and he wanted to be the cause of it for the rest of your lives. He tossed you his jersey at the end of the game, along with his number, and the rest was history.

"Please," you scoffed, "you're the one who fell for me, not the other way around."

"We said we wouldnt bring it up anymore!" he whined, making you giggle. "It's Christmas, baby, you can't be doing this to me!"

"Technically, we have 2 minutes until Christmas," you smirked, making him pout on your screen.

"I spent all this time on your surprise and this is the thanks I get."

"And I'm the dramatic one he says," you rolled your eyes.

"Oh baby, you can come back now! We have one minute left!" Gio said excitedly.

You traveled the short distance, passing through the rainy area of the island you lived on and entering the snowy one of your boyfriend's. It was fitting considering it was Christmas Eve.

"How come your side gets snow and mine gets rain?" you asked him, making your way to his house. "That's so unfair."

"You're the one who decided to build aaaall the way over there, dude," you shrugged. "I told you to build right next to me but noooooo, you 'needed space.' Why do you need space?"

"Because you'd probably create a huge ass system to blow up my house every day, Giovanni," you said flatly, arriving in front of him. "I know you too well."

"Okay, I need you to start that Christmas playlist now." You rolled your eyes but complied, the music playing through the speakers for the both of you to hear. "Are you ready for this?"

"Give me all you got," you answered.

Gio checked the clock, beginning his countdown. "Three, two, one, Merry Christmas! Welcome to my humble abode!" He said proudly, opening the door to his home.

To say you were stunned was an understatement. Gio had really gone all out despite it only being a video game. His entire house was decorated as best it could with Christmas decorations: stockings on his little fireplace, Christmas light arrangements, dinner set on the table. He even went out of his way to make a Christmas tree. Just the way that he knew you loved to decorate your house.

"Wh-what is this?" you asked in shock, a smile forming on your face.

"It's a Minecraft Christmas!" he exclaimed, loving how happy you looked.

"When did you find all the time to do all of this?" you asked again, spinning around to really take in his work.

"I made time," he smiled. "I figured that if we can't spend Christmas together in person, at least we can do it in our house here. It's not the same, but the spirit is here all the same!"

You stared at him through the screen of your computer, touched that he went through the effort of doing all of this just to simulate Christmas together.

"Oh, I even got you a present! Open the chest!" he said excitedly.

You opened the chest to see a full set of armor, weapons, and he even went as far as making plenty of potions for your monster hunting and mining adventures, something the two of you frequented quite often.

"And I did it all myself. No creative mode necessary," he bragged.

"No way! This chest is full, G. This must've taken you weeks to get all the supplies!" you said in disbelief.

You could see him shaking his head. "Yep. I grinded for weeks to get all this stuff. But I don't care about that. I only get the best for my girl. It doesn't matter whether it's a present in Minecraft or the present I sent to your house. You deserve it all, baby."

Your eyes widened as you understood what he just said. "You sent a present to my house?! I thought you said you wanted to give me my present in person once I went to Germany again!"

Even through your phone screen, you could see Gio's eyes twinkling with excitement, just like a little kid opening his presents.

"Oh, you're still getting that present when you come back. But I saw this one and I knew I had to send it to you. It was meant to be here by tonight, but you know how shipping can be sometimes," he explained. "Either way, I'm glad I had this ready for you. I know how much you love seeing the house decorated. I even have snow blocks to build snowmen together in case it didn't end up snowing so we can still have our snowman friends!"

Christmas was indeed your favorite season. And having Gio was truly the best present that you could possibly ask for. He went above and beyond for you despite it only being in a video game, and it just showed how lucky you were to have him.

"Thank you for all of this. I love you, G," you said sweetly, smiling brightly at him.

"I love you too, Y/N. Merry Christmas," he replied, returning your smile. "Now let's eat this cake. I gotta regenerate my health before we fight off these creepers tonight!"

"What have we said about explosions on Christmas?!"

Taglist: @neverinadream @chilwellspulisic @thoseboysinblue @pulisicsgirl @lovelynikol16 @lizzypotter14 @nyctophilic0vitnir @shadowscorch @notsoattractivearenti

#gio reyna #giovanni reyna #gio reyna imagine #gio reyna au #gio reyna one shot #gio reyna x reader

[lily-orchard]

welp I’ve caught your sisters attention and I’ve apparently got my own tags now, yay..

idk how tf I got on your sisters radar, nor do I understand what she’s talking about in particular with her post. (I post i only saw bc an anon sent me an archive link btw, I’ve had her blocked for months)

https://web.archive.org/web/20240122022451/https://www.tumblr.com/pleasetiemyshoe/%20740178068838203392/oh-someone-wants-attention

I’ve never come after sunny, yeah we used to interact but that was a while ago, unfollowed him before you and him fell out. (Not for any particular reason, i just stopped enjoying his content) To the best of my knowledge I've never even talked about sunny after we stopped interacting and I don’t remember saying anything bad about him ever?

I have Courtney blocked, i definitely didn’t want her attention as she implied. Or the attention of any of the gossip blogs for that matter bc, to the best of my knowledge, I have them all blocked.

The “honey” and “sweet lamb” shit, along with her graphically saying I’m a waste of my fathers orgasm, makes me super fucking uncomfortable. on top of sounding really condescending she also sounds like my ex who raped me. Bc he was also a condescending asswipe and talked like a “poorly written high school bully” (to use a previous anons words)

she claims I think rape is “just a spat” even tho I am open on my blog about being a multiple time rape survivor (including but not limited to me being raped last year by my ex) and also I’ve never said that “rape is just a spat”, like WTF obviously that’s not what rape is. Idk how tf she came to the conclusion that I thought it was.

she also said I’m supporting two rapists? I’m guessing one of the ppl she’s referring to is you (bc she claims you raped her in multiple posts) but who tf is the second one?? I’m so confused.

and of corse the post has no screenshots of me saying or doing any of these things, she just spat out my url so others could see. So I have nothing to go off of here like- genuinely idk what I did to piss her off other then not publicly hate you.

idk why I’m coming to you about this but I genuinely could use some kinda support here bc she’s honestly freaking me out. My anxiety disorder can’t take this shit. I’ve been harassed before online, I was groomed as a kid and teen and was doxxed as a teen and more, but never have I ever got the attention of someone as obsessed as her before, so I’m terrified of what she might try to pull. The way she talks reminds me of my ex and that’s definitely not helping the panicking at all. I’ve seen how unhinged she behaves when it comes to you and I’m honestly scared rn of wtf this woman is gonna do. I have no idea what she’s talking about and I genuinely don’t know what I did to catch her attention. I think I’m just trying to vent out my panic attack so sorry if this is annoying to you but I honestly don’t know what to do bc I already have your gossip blogs blocked and that didn’t help so I’m kinda up shits creek atm. Like- WTF DID I DO TO GET HER ATTENTION? I’m confused. I like your posts sometimes and occasionally comment under them? Was that all it took?? Jfc I’m so confused. Idk what to do, any advice? Kind words? Idfk I’m just panicking I’m sorry I’m a bother I know this ask is fucking long but I’m super freaking out here and don’t know what to do or who else to turn to

Courtney is nothing. She can't hurt you outside of sending a mob to harass you. She's not a survivor of anything she claims to be a survivor of, she's a perpetrator of them.

The fact that you've gotten Courtney this tilted isn't even surprising because she's ALWAYS tilted.

The lucky thing is that she's also a coward. She's threatening my life for months and hasn't made good on any of them.

Block her, block anyone she sends your way, and just put her out of your mind.

You're gonna be okay, Golden. You're a lovely person who I've always liked seeing in my notifications.

#brittany johnson #courtney peet #britts galaxy brain #courtney orchard #lily orchard #harassment #stalking #transphobia

[keanureevesisbae]

Summary: Henry finally is going on a date with the girl of his dreams, but there is one thing he has to get used to and that is her celiac disease.

Henry Cavill x unnamed ofc (but who are we kidding, it's about me lol)

Wordcount: 854

Warnings: None

A/N: I have celiac disease and the symptoms the unnamed ofc experiences are the symptoms I experience. I know it can be different for everyone, but this is just how I experience it. Also, I do not have a gluten detection dog (though I'd love one), so what I've written about that is solely what I learned through Instagram.

When Henry first started dating her, it took him a while before he realized she never ever wanted to eat somewhere. It was always a orange banana smoothie, a cappuccino where she would leave the complimentary cookie to the side or give it to him, or some mint tea.

Their dates had been amazing and he so desperately wanted to prolong their time together, however she never wanted to eat anywhere. 

Finally he asked her about it. 

Why can’t we have dinner somewhere?

And she let him in on the matter by saying: ‘I’ve got celiac disease.’

A few hours consulting doctor Google, enlightened him further on the matter and he realized she didn’t want to risk the aftermath of accidentally consuming some gluten. That’s why she opted for kisses on the cheek at the end of their dates, when he did eat the cookie. That’s why she had this way of flicking her hand as she took something off the shelves, checking the ingredients. He thought she was just watching her food for a diet or something, when in reality she’d been checking it for ingredients that would make her sick.

Finally, they kissed, after he ate a gluten-free dinner with her, a dinner they prepared together and he fell even more in love with her than he already did. Sure, it took some adapting, but for her, he did it in a heartbeat and with love. When he was with his friends, he consumed all the gluten he wanted, but with her, he just ate what she made for herself, therefore also for him and they did not have to worry about gluten consumption.

He took her to game night with his friends, where they’d watch rugby and have beer and chips. She politely declined, though Henry wasn’t exactly sure if it was because it looked highly unappetizing or if she really couldn’t eat it. She let him in on the little secret she sometimes fakes she can’t have it, solely because she doesn’t want to eat it, but also doesn’t want to say those exact words.

Either way, he understood. 

Like he would usually do during game night, he wanted to grab a beer, but after a quick check—a habit he had picked up from her—he realized he couldn’t have it.

But she was quick to notice his disappointment. ‘You can have the beer,’ she said. ‘I know you want to, baby. It’s okay.’

He however placed it back and said: ‘Nah, I want to kiss my girlfriend whenever I want.’

It became a regular thing. Him declining offers whenever he was with her, him ordering gluten-free when they dared going out for dinner, so he could eventually exchange it with her if she did not like her order.

However, it went wrong and he hated seeing her like that. Curled up on the couch with a hot bottle against her bloated stomach, her pale face with deep dark circles underneath her eyes and the fact the restroom became her second home. Witnessing her own body having a immune response like that, solely because of accidental gluten consumption, it broke his heart. When she finally was semi back on her feet again, he could see the aftermath for weeks. Her intense fatigue, her ruined appetite and the shift in her mood. 

Naturally, because Henry likes to think pragmatically, he started to look for something he saw online recently.

A gluten detection dog. 

After quite some digging, he finally found a trainer who trained dogs to become gluten detection dogs and arranged multiple meetings.

‘Where are we going?’ she asked him curiously, as they continued the drive to the barn. ‘I don’t think we’ve ever been here.’

‘It’s a surprise, love,’ he said. ‘I am sure you would like it.’

When they got out and saw the dog he had in mind already waiting for them. Her eyes lit up. ‘Oh my goodness, a dog?’

‘Not just a dog,’ he said.

The trainer appeared and together with the dog walked up to them with a smile. ‘No ma’am, it’s a gluten detection dog.’

She was absolutely stunned. She had heard about gluten detection dogs before, however never thought about getting one. For starters, it was too expensive and she thought relying on herself was good enough. 

But the gluten free world is changing. Oats are considered gluten free now. When the gluten is pulled from the wheat, it’s considered gluten-free. And that is hard for her, because it’s not gluten free for her.

While the dog is not one hundred percent right, he can help her out. 

Many tears are shed and she wraps her arms around the dog. ‘We’re going to be the best of friends,’ she says to the canine. ‘What’s their name.’

‘Her name is Ella,’ the trainer said. ‘Come on in, I’ll tell you more about Ella and the gluten detection dog protocol.’

Seeing the hearts appear in her eyes, Henry started to chuckle, realizing he probably is the only one who is going to listen. But that’s alright. 

She’ll get the gist of it eventually.

♧ ♧ ♧

Taglist:@diegos-butt // @cherry-gemz // @crazybutconfidentaf // @sillyrabbit81 // @thelastsock // @enchantedbytomandhenry // @lyrarodriguez // @islacharlotte // @summersong69 // @sunshine96love // @oddsnendsfanfics // @gearhead66 // @xobriellaxo24 // @xuxszx // @liecastillo // @sofiebstar // @eldarwen333 // @omgkatinka // @abschaffer2 // @pterodactylterrace // @kebabgirl67 //

#henry cavill #henry cavill fanfic #henry cavill x ofc #henry cavill x oc #henry cavill fandom #henry cavill x reader #henry cavill x fem!reader #henry cavill fluff #henry cavill drabble

[ovaryacted]

My input probably isn't needed, since much more intelligent people have already spoken on this, but here are my two cents:

Dark content is okay. It is totally fine if you take interest to it and like it. However, there's a BIG difference between dark content and straight up crimes. Incest and stepcest? Morally and ethically questionable at best, straight up wrong at worst. Not my cup of tea, in fact, I find them very repulsive. But someone else might like it and that's alright - as long as both characters are consenting adults.

What isn't okay is rape and pedophilia. I've seen a rise in both in all fandoms recently, Resident Evil and Call of Duty being ones that hurt me the most. I don't know what's causing it, but it needs to stop ASAP. The first blog I ever followed on Tumblr turned this way recently, and I was so disappointed and sad. A person who used to write eye-catching stories and amazingly written smut turned out to be someone who now almost exclusively writes non-con. It hurt me to press that unfollow button. Rape is never okay and should never be romanticized. People need to accept that.

Pedophilia? Y'all are just disgusting for that. There are young and impressionable people on this app, and no amount of minors DNI warnings will make them go away, because they're hormonal kids and they like what is forbidden. I know from my own experience, I was very much underage when I first started Wattpad, then AO3, then Tumblr. I read smut at the age I shouldn't have. Thankfully, I was a bit more self aware and emotionally mature than mist people my age, so I ended up fine, thank God. I knew what was kinky and what was wrong and the distinction between the two.

But the vast majority of kids aren't like that, and when they read fanfics that romanticize grooming, pedophilia and rape, they will get the impression those things are normal IRL and it's okay to do them and/or it's okay if it's done to you. SOME OF Y'ALL'S WRITING IS ACTIVELY PUTTING OTHER PEOPLE ***AND MINORS*** IN DANGER, AND THAT SHOULD NEVER ***EVER*** BE NORMALIZED, ***YOU SHOULD STOP***!!!

I know this isn't what I usually leave in your inbox, nic, but this needs to be talked about every chance we get, because it's unfortunately getting normalized to sexualize minors and victims :(

Y'all stay safe out there, please <<3

-🌑

Hey New Moon anon honey, I've missed you and thought about you recently. I saw this when you first sent it to me, and I've been meaning to answer this for a while as well as my other messages in my inbox but I was just so exhausted as a whole I couldn't give you a proper answer. But I have enough brain power now to respond lol.

First, I do appreciate and value your input, I agree with everything you said and also relate to you heavily. I was also in the COD fandom for a while when I first came on to Tumblr before I formally transitioned into the RE fandom, and I saw that same trend with people who wrote for Ghost & Konig in particular. I can write essays on the correlation of the fantasy behind sexual violence and military propaganda but then we'd be here all day. It's also difficult to read characters that have a canon history of sexual abuse (Ghost/Simon Riley) inflict that same level of harm onto other characters even if it's fictional. There are a lot of layers to violence and aggression in sexual culture, particularly in environments where the military is involved since that's something people who are in the military go through, but I don't want to dwell on that too much.

Personally, being someone who started engaging in sexual content and material at a very young age because I got too curious on the internet, I know how dangerous it can be. I know how it can fuck with your head when you see something online and get too engaged in it that you want to recreate it out of curiosity. Minors often have this experience, especially when they reach an age where they want to replicate or mimic what they consume. It happens at all ages, it’s not their fault, and with the hormones that run through their bodies, it's inevitable. That's why I'm emphasizing just being safe on the internet with what we as creators release to be shared and spread around when we live in an age of unrestricted internet access across all platforms regardless of how hard you try to use filters and warnings.

I hope that at some point, the content we see when it comes to smut writing or writing as a whole kind of calms down in the RE fandom, but until then all you can do is block tags, spread awareness, and keep it pushing.

#ovaryacted asks #₊˚⊹♡ ─ my new moon anon 🌑

[our-magical-world]

How I learned about shifting

I first heard about reality shifting in March 2021.

I was looking for a meditation video on Youtube, because I had started to meditate every night before bed to help me sleep, and I saw a recommended video about "desired reality". Those words caught my attention and I felt called to watch it. I was lucky because it was a video explaining some FAQ about reality shifting, so I learned what it was and some details of the process right away.

And, as I said in a previous post, everything clicked so easily, because I already believed in the multiverse, and I believed someday I'd find a way to go to my fantasy DR. So my first reaction was "is this the answer I've been searching all my life?" I even realized I might have done it before, but I wasn't too sure it counted as shifting (see my previous posts about my earlier experiences).

But, like many people, I didn't believe in it right away (don't believe everything you read/hear online, kids! always do your own research!) and it seemed too good to be true. But I also thought it didn't hurt to try (after I'd researched about it and made sure it was not dangerous, of course). A part of me felt a little ridiculous for believing in it, for laying down in a starfish position and counting numbers hoping for the best, but hey, nobody has to know, right? If it doesn't work, I'll just stop and move on with my life, right?

Wrong.

Because, even if it didn't work at first, I couldn't stop trying. The more I learned about it and heard/read other shifters' experiences and stories and advice, the easiest it was to believe in it and keep trying.

But let's go back to the day I found that video. I think it was a Thursday or Friday, so I spent the whole weekend researching about it (my main source was Youtube, I also did a Google search but I couldn't find much written information like blogs or websites, and I didn't have Tiktok or Amino accounts). And I don't know if I got too deep into the rabbit hole, if it was just self-suggestion or whatever but, even if I wasn't planning to shift yet (I felt like I didn't have enough information, I wasn't ready, I didn't even have a script), the next night I started having crazy symptoms out of the blue. I didn't try or do a method, I just meditated like every night. But when I went to sleep, I started seeing flashing lights, so strong I even opened my eyes and checked if there was something wrong with my lamp a couple of times (you know, when there is a flash of light and you can feel it even through closed eyes, I thought it was that). But no. After a while I realized the flashes of light were in my eyes, or in my head, or whatever. I also felt tingling on my limbs and a slight weight on my head, like someone had put their hand on my head. I freaked out (like many shifters do when symptoms get too wild) and opened my eyes and turned on the light. I couldn't sleep. Was I shifting? I didn't feel ready!

Now I deeply regret freaking out like that, because what if I had ignored the symptoms and shifted that very first night without even trying? We'll never know.

But it was that weird experience that motivated me to keep trying. It took me a while, and for a long time I tried only in the morning, because I got too scared when I started having symptoms at night, alone in the dark. And the first few times I tried to shift on purpose, I got too nervous thinking "what if I ACTUALLY do it??" (I have anxiety, that's why I started meditating in the first place) and couldn't focus or relax at all. After a while I got used to everything and I rarely have symptoms anymore.

#shiftblr #reality shifting #shifting experience

[prideoftheknights]

Chikage Utsuki 【Literature Impasse】 N Story Translation

Backstage story: Role Study 【Takasugi】

Card Quote:

"Ah... uuhm... well... Actually, the editor-in-chief has completely revised, or rather, rewritten..."

translation under the cut!

Tasuku: This sake is delicious.

Sakyo: Yeah, Yukishiro showed me this sake before. I like it too.

Tsumugi: Oh right, I heard from Sakuya-kun that the members of Spring Troupe are all going to read a book by a literary giant and write a book report on it.

Tasuku: Heh? Role building for the show, huh?

Chikage: Yeah, that kind of role building isn't bad. Sakuya suggested it.

I received the recommended book lineup from Tsuzuru over LIME earlier too.

Sakyo: Have you already decided on which book you're going to read?

Chikage: I have. I was thinking of this…

Sakyo: They have novels in an e-book format too, huh

Chikage: Any book is available online these days. Well, I haven't decided whether I'll read it electronically or on paper yet though.

Tsumugi: This work has a fairly eerie or peculiar atmosphere to it, doesn't it?

Tasuku: What made you decide to choose it?

Chikage: It was one in the recommended lineup that I knew the synopsis of, but had never read properly.

Tasuku: I see.

Sakyo: Nevertheless, I'm curious to see what Utsuki will write in his book report. I'm quite interested to see what he'll write. I'd love to read it.

Chikage: If the opportunity comes one day.

Chikage: ......

(I ended up buying it at a bookstore. I've been trying to read it but......)

Well, that's pretty much in accordance with the synopsis.

Itaru: YEAH! Got a rare item!

Oh, come to think of it, Senpai. I saw you finished reading your book a few days ago, but have you finished your report yet?

Chikage: I've finished it already.

Itaru: Eh? When did you finish it? I don't think I've seen you write anything......

Chikage: I didn't write it in our room. Have you finished writing your book report on "Pandora's Box"[1]?

Or rather, have you even finished reading it?

Itaru: I finished the book, but I haven't written the report yet.

Chikage: I wonder how you have so much time to play games when you're not finished yet.

Itaru: I'll finish the report by the deadline.

Besides, the game I'm playing right now is a game that features literary giants, so this is also part of my role building.

Chikage: How childish……. I won't know if you don't finish though.

Chikage: A booklet compiling everyone's impressions, huh. I didn't expect to get everyone's reports back in such a form.

Itaru: Booklets like these quite nostalgic.

Izumi: Right? As I was making it too, I couldn't help but think about how nostalgic it was.

Sakuya: Next is Chikage's report. I'm really interested in what kind of report you wrote!

Chikage: Sakyo-san said the same thing.

Citron: I'll read Chikage's report at once!

Itaru: Say, Senpai's report... Isn't it kind of short?

Tsuzuru: Yeah you're right. Let's see, this piece is about a man going to the sand dunes......

Hey, isn't this just the synopsis!?

Masumi: It's easy to understand.

Chikage: I wrote it so that even a grade schooler could understand it.

Citron: Even I can understand it! I'm excited to see how it all ends!

Masumi: He wrote, "The ending of the book was enjoyable to read."

Citron: Oh! This is an inventory count...! [2]

Sakuya: An inventory count?

Itaru: It's half finished, you mean.

Citron: Yes that!

Chikage: I took spoilers into consideration.

Tsuzuru: But, even if you consider spoilers in your book report... To begin with, you didn't even write a single word of your own feelings in your book report!

Chikage: After all, it's better to read the book and come up with your own opinions for yourself.

Itaru: Sticking to a true reader's culture...

Sakuya: Ahaha...

TL notes!

[1]: the piece of literature itaru picked is "pandora's box" by osamu dazai! an existing review of it can be found here if you're curious about it.

[2]: citron says 棚卸し (kanaoroshi) and itaru corrects him with 生殺し (namagoroshi), which can be used as a metaphor for doing something in a half way to torment someone

#a3 translation #a3! #a3! chikage #chikage utsuki #a3! sakuya #sakuya sakuma #a3! tsuzuru #tsuzuru minagi #a3! itaru #itaru chigasaki #a3! masumi #masumi usui #act addict actors #a3 citron

[unearthlydream]

((this is a long personal rambling feel free to scroll past lmao))

growing up chronically online meant most of my friends were distant people i didn't really know. as we got older we'd discard our fake names and backstories and share our actual life with each other. it was so wonderful to get to know a new version of a person who i already loved once we got so comfortable.

i had one friend in particular who i'll never forget. there are so many-- but d... d and I hurt each other immensely. we were both so traumatized and so broken and desperately trying to glue each others pieces back together, sometimes not even caring if they went into the right spot. as long as it wasn't broken anymore... that's all we cared about. there was so much love and, at the end, so much emotion and turmoil that we ended up never speaking again. as we got older our coping mechanisms became more complex and it just got complicated. i don't blame d for growing apart, even if i did at the time (but i was 14 and fuckin stupid. i couldn't see past my own crafted universe of "how things are supposed to be")

one thing that always troubled me was the constant state of not knowing whether d succumbed to the suicidal ideations. they blocked me on all known profiles and essentially disappeared. i always hoped and dreamed that they found happiness somehow-- that some of the plans we made for our lives would actually come together-- but not knowing has always left me with a haunted feeling whenever i thought of them.

as i scrolled through my archive i found my 2nd oldest account -- the blog where we linked to each others pages just so everyone would know we were best friends. it's been years since i saw the page and i honestly thought the blog had been wiped-- but the reality is that it's just been so long that i forgot the exact URL (back in the day when people hoarded URLs and you had to have a weird variation on something or nothing at all).

as i had done so many times as a teenager, i clicked on my "dee" tag. expecting to find nothing but an empty blog that hadn't been touched since 2011. but this time... i think they were there. the hyperlink worked and I was taken to a blog with a beautiful theme (as d always had), a silly and scrappy bio, and over 4K pages of content going all the way back to 2016. i even saw their name. their real name. the name their shitty mother gave them and that they always hated-- the name that actually inspired them to create a fake name (not just a fear of being abducted, like me lol love 2008 internet safety).

it seems so much like them. they seem so happy. i don't even see a trace of the child who i desperately texted waiting for a response to be sure they didn't drown themselves in the creek behind their house. the child who i loved so much it drove me to harm. the child who, whether they realize it or not, helped shape me into the person i am today.

but because of the time and the distance... because of the fiery way our friendship ended... i can't be sure. i want so badly for it to be them. i've thought for so long that maybe they lost their battle and that i'd never see them smile again or talk with them about werewolves or listen to their stories about their grandparents that loved them so much. but now there is a little hope. and i'm going to hang onto that.

i just wish... i wish i could reach out. it's been so long that i would hope their hate faded. that they could reflect on the simple things that tore us apart, and that they might even be happy to hear from me. to know that i won my battle too and that i'm finally happy.

it hurts to not know. but it would probably hurt more to reach out and hear nothing-- or to reach out just to realize that this person with their blog isn't actually them, but someone who took their URL after they deleted their presence from my life.

god i haven't written anything this long on tumblr since..... ever? lmao but i'm just sitting at work simultaneously aching over these memories and shining over the fact that they might still be breathing. that they're living the life that i always dreamed and hoped that they would. and god-- if it is you, d, you turned into a beautiful person. not that i ever had any doubts.

#personal #god #is this relatable content??? any bitches turning 30 soon lamenting over the friends they've lost over the internet??? #i miss them so much and i want to reach out so bad but i just.... i don't think they need me popping up in their life #to remind them of all of our childhood sadness #i hope they're happy and i hope they've forgotten about me #maybe i'll get lucky and they'll find this post and reach out.... #lost friendship #i didn't re-read any of this so hopefully it's coherent lmao #tw: sucidal thoughts #tw: mentions of death #i hope they remember me as fondly as i remember them #but i guess if they don't... that is okay too #it has to be #GOD I WANNA CRY WTF LMAO #am i even worth being fondly remembered?

[xanonymouscatharsisx]

Cw: abuse

I've been thinking along the lines of grooming lately. Yes because of true crime stuff I've been listening to. But also in how it relates to my own life.

I struggle to call this grooming but I also don't know any other word for it. It feels imperfect but close enough?

My mom had me read A Child Called "It" growing up. Earlier than I think I should have honestly, considering it was a choice in high school for English reports, and I had to ask if I could instead do the third book in the series since I had already read the first two.

I think... I could be very very wrong about this... I think my mom used it as a way to rationalize what she did as not abuse. If you've read the series, or even just this book, this is horrendous what was done to the author as a kid. And so I think my mom had painted it as "this is so clearly abusive and this is the only thing that is abusive, so nothing I do can be abusive." And I think this also maybe coloured her understanding of her past, that this stuff didn't happen to her, so clearly she's fine.

I've tried to talk to her a few times over the years, in private, or even by making blog posts and showing her, to which she says she's sorry and in the case of anything online that I should take it down. Sometimes she later gaslights about a lot of it. But she also never wants to look bad, but then has zero problems badmouthing me to anyone and everyone who will listen.

I remember pretty vividly the first time I remember everything that made me feel shitty. I remembered feeling shitty before but this just sticks so different.

My mom had gotten me chicken soup for the preteen soul. Chicken soup was ALL the rage. I don't think I knew anyone who didn't have a chicken soup book for years. In this particular one, there was a story of a girl, I think in California, who started a charity to buy bulletproof vests for police dogs. I was so inspired.

I got to work, planning, figuring out where I can leave cans to ask for donations, even getting friends to help.

My mom tore my notebook.

Like page from page, everything that had been written on, which was about half the notebook. I still don't remember her reasoning for this.

I was crushed. This was also my favourite notebook, and it was a spiral, and when you take a considerable amount of pages out of those, while still leaving the cover... It doesn't look right. I don't know, I've always hated when you do that to spiral bound notebooks. Looking back, I think this might be an autism thing, but that doesn't really play a part in the story.

I think I told a couple friends about this. They certainly saw the half-notebook that was full the day before. I don't remember specifically telling them anything, but I think I remember telling one friend that I had to hide it from my mom so we couldn't talk about it in the car. It feels like there's some stuff I'm forgetting here, and whether that's because I blocked it out, or from my depression and grief from recent years, I'm not sure.

My heart is breaking for that kid though right now. I remember so vividly feeling almost betrayed and it's the feelings that stick so hard. You had bought me this thing that inspired me so much that I wanted to make change in the world, and then you tore it up. That ends up being a little bit of a theme from here on out.

I had tried to talk to my mom about this at some point. Sort of. I had made a blog post years back on a blog, and then sent it to her. I was having a particularly difficult time with her and just... I don't know what I wanted. I think maybe just to feel seen? And maybe not alone? And understood? She asked me to delete it and we never talked about it again. Ever. Honestly, any time she hurts me, this is brought back, symbolized in my brain by that sad, spiral bound notebook missing half its pages. I can't stress enough how much I loved that notebook.

This is something that I've also been thinking about as it relates to privacy for kids is things like how a lot of girls of abusive moms I know had kept a diary until they found out their mom read it, so they stopped. Before this whole thing, I never had a problem writing in notebooks. After this, I did, and STILL do. The amount of just empty notebooks I have because I'm so scared she's going to rip them apart... For one thing it's a bit of a problem but for another, think of all that wasted potential in those sheets. Change to the world, fiction, maybe journalism... I'm now looking at those blank pages a little differently.

But back to the other theme I also wanted to talk about. My mom has never really supported me. She has in some junctures, like telling me I could be anything when I was little, and questioning why I wanted to bother shaving as I got a bit older. And they suddenly changed to ripping up notebooks, and telling me I couldn't go into x field because it's not for girls. I still don't know where a lot of that came from and weirdly enough it's the same feeling I get from Canada's federal conservative party.

Yeah this feels like an aside, and I'm just gonna say it, in the 90s it felt like they fought for middle class and protecting people, and now they only fight for the rich white straight people, and I don't know when that happened. I just remember a switch.

I don't even know when that switch happened for my mom. Like, with the shaving it seemed like she was hinting at questioning beauty standards and gender norms from one perspective, but oh, you can't do this thing because it's only for boys! And that was always something I got more from my brother that I can't play Nintendo because I'm a girl, I'm going to break it. I can see a bit of a line that might have happened, but I doubt he could convince her of something like that at that age anyway.

I'm now trying to convince myself to open some kind of class online and giving myself permission to use some of my notebooks. It's been a pretty rough day today, and maybe that's what I need. Or maybe just a good cry.

[septembersghost]

the fact that they decided to wrap up vanessa ives’ arc by killing her, after her torture and suffering, after her continual battles for agency and with her mental illness, after she so boldly asserted her worth and the power of her self (one thing yet remains to me. I remain), and then they said no, actually, she is so mired in pain and trauma, she has seen so much darkness, that she cannot ever find peace, she cannot live, and she has to die at the hand of someone who deeply loves her, and while she bleeds in his arms, she’ll say it’s okay, because she sees heaven/god - whether this is true or not, we have no idea, because part of her entire arc was her damaged relationship with her faith and the fact that god (if he/she/they exist) does nothing to help her, even when she is beset by the literal devil, and indeed she has worked to free herself from the strict trappings of religious devotion - and we are supposed to find this good when it’s an absolute betrayal of her freedom and all she stood for, and it’s like blotting out the sun, and every character who revolved around her is left in tattered mourning, knocked me out with a ponderous, foggy grief for days.

and i watched all of penny dreadful in about a month, so it’s not even that she was with me for a lengthy span of time, but i loved her instantly and dearly and empathized with her on levels i can’t quite explain, and it felt like a knife to the heart and some bewildering condemnation of parts of me.

and then they did this, in very, very similar beats to dean (a whole discussion could be had about parallels between vanessa’s arc and his, the fact that she’s a victorian gothic horror romantic heroine and he’s a gothic horror romantic hero filtered through modernity notwithstanding), and that relationship was fifteen years, that empathy and projection and love got ingrained in my very being, and every time i remember that i think, right, so it’s no small wonder why it lapsed me into mourning from which it’s been difficult to recover

#they martyred them both to say suffering's only end is death #the only escape from monsters is death #the only release from trauma is death #and if you struggled with your mental health and scratched at the walls for your freedom #and loved and loved and loved until your heart was torn to pieces and still chose to act out of love again anyway #and your faith was destroyed but in its stead what was left was your own power and assertions #(i remain/that's not who i am) #don't worry...you get to die at a young age and smile because god or whatever #i really have made a certain peace with heaven in regards to dean i genuinely do mean that but sometimes it's just like...what was the point #what is the point of anything #and maybe as someone who has battled faith and illness and agency being stripped from her and suicidality #and sort of lives quietly with the ever present spectre of inevitability and death #it hit me too hard and too personally in both cases and that's likely not healthy but whatever #the wounds have a substance to them either way #dean feelings #i've never been a natural; all i do is try try try #i know i've already written about this but i got online and saw my own reblog of vanessa and ethan and got hit with a wave of sadness again #i get hit with waves of sadness every day really because it's about so much more than the stories themselves #it's rooted in me #the next post in my queue...hits this same theme lol i'm fine #oof #bubble wrap around my heart

[thatgoblin]

Chris Redfield and Leon Kennedy x Rookie Reader Headcannons

Leon

At first you were in awe of your lead. THE Leon S. Kennedy was showing you the ropes and helping train you for the job you'd dreamed of. Hero worship was common in this line of work, but you did your best to keep it to a minimum. You didn't want to embarrass yourself after all.

In place of that hero worship came this insatiable need to make Leon proud. Whether it was memorizing and nailing every written exam or physical test, you wanted to earn his praise.

You worked hard, harder than almost everyone it seemed. Leon never saw you slacking and saw how serious you were about the job. Protecting people was what you had always wanted to do with your life.

So when the grades came back that you weren't doing so hot, you were mortified. How could you let this happen? You didn't slack off, you studied everything you could get your hands on, hell you watched instructional videos on YouTube before bed! But you still weren't making a passing grade.

You thought you would be okay with the physical part, but no matter how hard you trained, no matter the extra hours you put in, you just couldn't seem to get what everyone else did. The moves were simple, why couldn't you just grasp them?

The only thing you thought you had going for you was the firing range, but even that was less than acceptable. Every time you tried to do something the pressure got to you and you messed up. You were so busy trying to make sure you didn't fail Leon that you were failing yourself.

It was when you were called into your commanding officer's office to speak about your grades that you were sure you were done. You were given two weeks that were used for break to study and practice and retest. But you'd already had nearly four months and the best you could do was subpar.

You were in your room, packing your bags because you knew you were going to be kicked out of the program when Leon showed up.

"Hey, Kid, you leaving for break?" He asked as he leaned against the door frame of your dorm.

"Uh. . . No," you said, hanging your head in shame. "I'm flunking out. Figured that it would just be easier to pack my bag now than wait later till I was officially asked to leave."

"What? How are you flunking?" Leon asked, straightening up. "I watch you every day and you're one of the hardest working cadets I've seen."

"Hard work doesn't mean much when you can't apply it correctly," you said. "I can't get the fighting technique right, the written exams are all a bust, and I can't even shoot a gun right. I don't deserve to be here."

"Have you asked for help or for someone to tutor you? That's what I'm here for, you know," he said, moving into the room to sit on the bed next to you.

You stared at the floor as you took a deep breath, feeling all the insecurities come rushing through to the surface.

"I didn't want to disappoint you," you said. "I mean, I wanted to do it all myself without help. I wanted to make you proud that you were my lead. If I was always asking for help, what good does that do? It shows that I can't do something on my own and need my hand held like some baby."

Leon sighed as he folded his hands together between his knees.

"I get it. I do. Wanting to make your leader proud and show how good you are, but we're a team here. No one is by themselves. You're only so good as your team is and if you're not doing well then that's a reflection on us," he said.

"Oh god, are you guys getting in trouble because of me?" You asked, looking at him horrified that you were possibly making things hard for your team.

"No, no, I mean. . . We're a team for a reason. You have to lean on us and trust us so when we need to, we can lean on you and trust you. If you need help studying or practicing outside of classes, I'll help you. That's why I'm here. It can be hard to ask for help in any situation cause it means you're admitting to a weakness, but that's okay. That's how we get stronger as individuals and as a team," Leon said.

You nod with a sigh. "I have two weeks to get better before I officially am asked to leave. I don't know if I can do it on my own," you said. "Can you help me?"

"Of course. I've got your back, Kid," Leon said, giving you a soft smile.

Chris

The B.S.A.A. was not for rookies, but they needed recruits so here you were. They provided training on weapons, protocol, how to work the gear, basically everything. Because they wanted everyone to be a well oiled machine out in the field, they made sure if you couldn't cut it that you didn't make it out of training. It was life and death and while they needed the hands, they weren't sending people out to die.

The trainers rotated to take classes of trainees. You were lucky enough to get the legendary Chris Redfield for your class leader. He would be teaching everything and making sure that everyone was ready. You had heard of him before, knowing that he was a weathered agent and could almost do anything was daunting.

Which was probably why you tried to avoid him at all costs in one on one situations. He wasn't mean or an ass, but he was intimidating. His stature and history were more than enough to show he knew exactly what he was talking about. You didn't want to feel stupid or embarrass yourself, so you kept him at a distance as you worked almost on your own.

Sure there were classes and work that you were trained in, but just the fear of being the weak link in front of others was hindering you. All of your tests and physical training was mediocre at best. Sure there were people that weren't going to cut it obviously, but you were much closer to their end of the spectrum than the other end that was running circles around you.

It wasn't that you couldn't do it. You could, but sometimes you froze up because your hands did something your mind didn't want to do or nerves made you stutter and stumble over your words. Everyone in the class at least had a background in the military or the police force or FBI or CIA or some other group that was similar to this.

You on the other hand did not. You came from a more technical background rather than a physical one. While you were miles ahead on the written tests, the physical ones were going to kill your career.

So when the notice went out that you were on the chopping block to be let go unless you could prove you were capable of being in the field, you weren't surprised.

Half of you wanted to keep trying, but the other half was telling you to pack up and go. You weren't unique or special, so why bother to continue to try?

It was when you were were working with one of the large guns by the shooting range, that Chris approached you. Before then, you two hadn't said a word to each other outside of the classes or even directly to each other.

So when his large frame took a seat across from you, folding his hands on the table after setting a file next to him, watching you with the gun, you weren't sure what to think.

"Hi," you said, freezing as you looked from the gun to him.

"Y/N, right?" He asked. You nodded as you set the pieces of gun on the table. "Why are you here?"

Oh Jesus, no. Why now? Why here?

"Uh," you said, blinking rapidly as your brain tried to come up with an answer. "Because I wanna help people."

"That's usually the answer I get," he said, sitting back to let his hands drop into his lap. "That or 'to kill bio weapons.' That's also a popular one."

"Yeah?" You said, unsure of what he was getting at.

"But I don't think it's why you're here," Chris said. "Because I think you don't know why you're here." Opening the file, you could see it was all information about you. Your background, schooling, family, credit score, even online usernames. They had everything. "When I was looking through the potential trainee's info, you struck me as odd. It's not exactly an every day thing that we get people who are more tech inclined rather than have a police or military background, but it happens. Usually they wash out though and end up in our research department."

"But I don't want to be in the research department," you said, frowning. Was he going to push you over to that section of the organization? You didn't want to be there though, otherwise you would have applied there.

"Every time I talk to someone and they have the chance to go to research after speaking to them about it, they take it," Chris said. "They figured out they can't cut doing the ground work so they move to a different field, but not you. I see you everyday in training, working your ass off to keep up with everyone and you almost make it. Not quite, but almost. Almost isn't going to cut it out on a mission."

"I know, I just. . . I'm working on it," you said, trying not to sound hateful or rude as your hands started to move on autopilot, putting your gun back together. "I'm really trying and I just can't get over this stupid hump that's holding me back."

"What's that? What's holding you back?" Chris asked.

"Me. I'm holding myself back," you said with a sigh. "I second guess everything because everyone around me has the experience that I don't, but I know I can do it. I just choke when it's time to act."

"I know you have some experience that they don't," Chris said. You nodded, understanding what he was talking about.

"I was a kid when it happened, I could barely call it working experience," you said, pushing the empty magazine into the gun.

"It was for Sherry Birkin," Chris said. "Raccoon City for a 9 year old isn't something to sniff at. From what the reports said, you were by yourself for three days before you made it out."

"Yeah," you said, nodding as you moved to the handgun next, disassembling it easily. "Hid in my apartment till I saw military trucks driving by then ran out."

"You lost your whole family to what we're training you to fight," Chris said, keeping his eyes on your hands as your fingers moved without faltering as you put the gun back together. "You were a kid when that happened. I say it still counts for experience that no one else really has. You know what you're doing with the infected and you know what it's like in the aftermath. We need people who know what it's like so that we can stop it from happening again."

"So what do you propose?" You asked, looking up as you finished putting the handgun back together. "After school training? Tutoring? Or do you want me to be counselor for survivors or shove me off to R and D?"

Chris chuckled as he closed the folder to look up at your face.

"I'm not gonna cut you," he said. "You know what you're doing and you're right. You're hang up is yourself. I'm gonna work with you to get over it. It's probably one the easiest things to work through really."

"You mean I can stay?" You asked, relaxing back into the chair, not even realizing you had grown so tense.

"Yeah. I just watched you take those weapons apart and put them back together in record time without even pausing," he said, pointing to the guns in front of you. "I want to work with you, Y/N. This isn't going to be an easy fight, but I really believe you have what it takes to be a good B.S.A.A. agent."

"Thank you, Sir," you said, smiling softly. "I appreciate that."

"You're welcome. We'll start some one on one combat training tomorrow before class. You're going to be working double what the others are, but it'll be for the best in the long run," he said.

"Whatever it takes, I'll do what I need to," you said.

"Glad to here it. Now, while we're here in the shooting range, let's test your aim."

#resident evil #leon kennedy #chris redfield #chris redfield x reader #leon kennedy x reader

[in-superbloom]

did you ever hear about the girl who got frozen? (a.i.)

right where you left me: prologue

pairing: ashton irwin x olivia jones (oc)

warnings: uhh a kinda grieving theme i guess? but no deaths. it has a sad tone overall, but nothing major (in this chapter hehe). foul language because i can't help myself. the tiniest mention of alcohol, but as a memory. think i should probably warn you that this contains a very sad ash. also not much dialogues. this is mainly for explanation and introduction, but very important for the story. if you find anything else that might be triggering, please let me know so i can add it here !!

author's note: oof okay. so. this is the prologue of a series very very dear to my heart that i've been working on for what it feels like my whole life but really it's been just a few months. but i'm in love with the story (which rarely happens with my own writing) so i hope you can enjoy it too !! this is also my very first time posting a fic since 2013 so pls keep that in mind <3 no i am not shaking as type this ofc not also: although i have the full story ready in my head, this is the only chapter that's written. i wanted to wait until i had at least a few ready before posting this but i'm too anxious for that lmao just saying this bc it will take a good while until i have any more chapters, so <3 (p.s.: i went over this thing a million times since may so if you find any errors pls look away, i'm not fixing this thing anymore. thanks <3)

another note: anna from the future here to say that i completely forgot about the playlist i made for the story lmao here it is in case you're interested k thanks bye <3

credits: title is from taylor swift's song right where you left me. model in the picture: paola locatelli. banner by me.

i also wanted to take a minute to thank some really nice friends that i've made here over these past few months & that i'm extremely grateful for @wastelandcth @suchalonelysunflower @littledrummerangie i cannot thank you babes enough for inspiring me the way that you do & for letting me yell about this to you && for encouraging me so much 🥺 i'll never be able to explain just how much this means to me, so i'll have to settle for saying thank you at any change that i can get <3 i love you all 💜 also gem my baby, thank you for the inspo with the banner 💚

@bluesdelis look babe i did it 😌 you know how grateful i am for you & for you letting me have a breakdown every week about my writing for the past 8 years so let's not dive into that or else i will write something bigger than this prologue jsjsjdjd love you 🖤

i hope you all have a good reading and a nice day ♡

let me know what are your thoughts about the fic ! ♡

word count: 4.1k

☆☆☆

Cold. That was the first thing that Olivia’s brain processed.

Still with her eyes closed, she buried herself more into the duvet, while her arm blindly reached for the furnace in human form that she calls boyfriend. However, as soon as her arm was only met with cold sheets, her eyes shot open.

Blinking the sleep away, she sat up on the bed, searching for the infamous red clock resting on Ashton’s bedside table that was supposed to look like a vintage alarm clock. Olivia had ordered it online at an auction website a couple of years back, as a gift for his 23rd birthday, since it was something he had mentioned multiple times prior that he was looking for, but still hadn't found. But when it finally came in (two weeks after the due date), it looked nothing like the picture she saw on the website. Feeling beyond frustrated, she wanted to send it back immediately and ask for a refund and maybe leave a not so polite review on the seller's page. But Ashton stopped her right away, laughing like the situation was absolutely hilarious to him, while saying, 'I like it, it’s quirky'. So, the clock stayed and found a home right next to him in their room.

Some days, however, she would wake up at some ungodly hour because of the blaring noise of the only ringtone the clock had. But whatever annoyance she could feel towards the object, it always vanished as soon as she felt Ashton's lips gently touching her face in a good morning kiss before he would get up to start his day, leaving her to catch some more hours of well deserved sleep.

As the furthest from a morning person as a touring musician could possibly be, Olivia had always feared that living under the same roof as Ashton would turn her into an early bird like him, but she's thankful that it never happened (not that he needs to know about that).

When she sees the red clock, she smiles at the sudden but welcome memories of them flooding her foggy brain, but frowns slightly when she realizes it reads 12:13 pm. Ashton rarely lets her sleep past 10 am.

Gathering all her strength and will, she rises up from the bed, smoothly picking up a grey wool sweatshirt from the chair (way too baggy on her slim body, but it smells like him), pulling it over her head and relishing on the soft material warming up her body. Making her way to the door and calmly going down the stairs, she can’t help but stop for a minute to admire the picture frames on their walls, one in particular catches her attention – probably one of the most prized pictures and memories they had. It felt older than it actually is, but it was around 4 years ago, she's sure – a little while after the two of them met. The picture was of their group of friends that still remains the same: Ashton and his best friend, Luke; Olivia, her best friend, Calum and their old hometown friend, turned into Calum’s new friend at college, turned into everyone’s friend, Michael; and her then newly band members, Suki, Eli and Ravi. Together, their group was the life of the party through all their college years, and it showed by the big smiles and drinks in hands they all had in the picture. It was a very special night, the first time Olivia’s little band played for the public – for a small audience sure, but it was a wonderful night nonetheless. What a long road it had been since that night.

Her nostalgic thoughts were interrupted by a shiver that went through her whole body, and it made her realize how oddly cold the whole house was, not only their bedroom. Which, granted, it was November in New York and the weather was just getting colder, but that’s exactly why Ashton always made sure to keep the house warm enough. As much as she loved the chilly season, the warm weather always reminded him of his hometown, and who was she to deny him that?

The smell of fresh made coffee could be sensed even before she reached the kitchen. Arriving there, the curly haired woman still found no signs of her boyfriend, so she went straight after the coffee maker pot sitting on the far left corner of the cream marble counter. Smiling softly at the tons of memories of Ashton's sleepy figure making their favorite beverage, she reached for a coffee mug on the cupboard on top of the counter and poured the remainder of the hot liquid on it (it's her favorite mug, if she must choose – it was a gift from a fan, and it had printed on it a collage of the pictures of her and Ashton that were posted on social media through their first year of relationship).

Moving to the glass doors that lead to the mini garden they cultivate, she didn't have to open them to spot the 6-feet-tall man sitting on a bench outside, looking oddly small in his oversized clothes, coffee mug tightly held between strong hands. Something about his figure made Olivia frown, however: he was staring with an unwavering look at her small but eye-catching pot of yellow daffodils that were almost as much of a pet to them as Stitch at this point. Sensing that there’s something definitely off about his semblance, she made a mental note to talk to him and find out what’s wrong later. So she goes back to the kitchen, knowing that he might need this quiet and private moment for himself.

She lost count of the minutes that went by (couldn't have been more than five) before she hears the garden's door opening and closing, and then his bare feet are dragging his brawny body to her. Except, he goes over to the sink, walking right through her, not showing any sign that he even saw her hunched figure over the counter table in the middle of the room.

Alright, someone's in a mood.

Olivia tries to swallow the annoyance already bubbling inside her – he knows how much she hates to be ignored, no matter how mad he might be – by trying to think of what she can say that won't piss him off. This is always a hard feat to accomplish when Ashton gets in these moods, but there’s a reason for them to work so well together.

“I missed my favorite body heater when I woke up,” she says in her best sweet voice, knowing how quickly his resolve crumbles when he hears that voice.

Still, no reaction.

That settles a worry at the pit of her stomach, because Ashton is never like this. Even when he's not in the mood to talk, he always gives some kind of reaction to her words; it doesn't matter how small, just enough to make her feel acknowledged.

When he's finished washing his mug and the few scattered dishes across the sink – she noticed that he already had lunch, if the lone plate in the drying rack is anything to go by –, he dries his hand in a towel, turns around and throws it on top of the same counter Olivia was leaning up against. Once again, he walks away not even sparing her a look.

Indignant, she leaves the now empty coffee mug on top of the table and follows him as he walks up the stairs, any determination to not aggravate his mood now well gone.

“Hey! In case you didn't notice, I'm right here. Whatever got you in this sour mood, I'm certainly not to blame, so can you stop being a child now and talk to me?!”

Ashton just keeps walking – more like sluggishly dragging his body – until he reaches their bedroom and suddenly stops just merely two feet inside the room, looking around with vacant eyes; like he was expecting to see something that wasn't there.

“Okay, that's really mature of you. Are you planning on ignoring me all day then?” Olivia questions exasperated, staring angrily at the back of his neck, where the condor tattoo lives – her favorite of his, but that sight doesn't bring her any peace today like it usually does.

Her glare only breaks when she hears the familiar sound of dog tags swaying on her right side. Shifting her gaze to the direction of the sound, Olivia notices Stitch, their small, black & white French bulldog – who she thought was outside in the garden – slowly trudging his way from around the bed until he stops at Ashton's feet, looking up at one of his humans with sad eyes. That realization only makes the worry in her stomach grow uncomfortably.

“Hi buddy,” Ashton's voice cracks a bit from the lack of use, but he smiles softly at the sweet dog, and crouches down to pet him.

Olivia can't help but gasp as she notices three things all at once that leave her overwhelmed: first, how she didn't even notice Stitch was in the room when she woke up – which never ever happens, in fact, most days he wakes her up whenever he deems her bedtime as finished and can't ever contain his excitement when she finally gets up; second, how the windows blinds are closed, which, again, rarely occurs under their roof, not if Ashton can help it. And third, how sad and melancholic the whole scene in front of her is – how sad and melancholic Ashton is. Pointless to say by now – that's also a very rare occasion.

A chill creeps up Olivia's spine, putting her body into high alert and also serving as a reminder of how everything looks out of place today. Trying to keep her head from spiraling down way too soon, she wraps her arms around herself and crouches down beside her two favorite boys, trying once more.

“Ash? Can you hear me?” even with her throat closing, she softly asks, purposefully putting her face in Ashton's point of view. Her only answer is the low whispers he's letting out to Stitch, while cradling the tiny dog in his arms, spreading gentle kisses on his head.

“I know, bud, I know. I miss her too,” is the only whisper she could understand and immediately wishes she hadn't. The weak wail that comes from Stitch's throat seems to fit perfectly with how the three of them feel.

Ashton then looks up and for a couple of seconds, and Olivia can swear he’s staring right into her eyes. But when he shows no reaction, she knows he’s just staring ahead and not at her, with that look that says there’s too much going on inside his head. She feels the urge to embrace him and get him to talk about whatever is on his mind, so they can share that weight like they always do, but when Ashton gets up from the ground and settles on the bed with Stitch, Olivia can physically feel the crack in her heart caused by the feeling she’s left with.

While Ashton is pulling the duvet over him and the dog, with clearly no intentions of getting up anytime soon, Olivia stands up on her feet with a new-found determination – she needs to figure out what the hell is going on.

This nightmare had to be just that, right? Nothing but a very vivid dream – she's had those before. Scary sure, but they always go away, and soon enough she's back into Ashton's arms, with Stitch jumping on the bed ready to lick their faces off. She just needs to wake herself up from whatever fucked up dream this is – right?

She's running down the stairs this time, frantically in search of something, of what exactly, she doesn’t know – but she knows she needs an answer. The more she looks for something, the more desperate she gets, not knowing what to look for. Then suddenly, something catches her eyes.

The white and blue calendar that's held up by magnets on the side of the fridge. She knows their calendar is red and yellow. They got it from their favorite flower market. Slowly, as if scared of what it might be there – “It's just a calendar, for fucks sake” – she approaches the damn thing. Upon inspection, she deems it as a normal calendar – she really doesn't know what she was expecting – until.

She knows what's wrong with it now.

It's November. She knows it, because the Asian and last leg of her first world tour is about to begin November 21st, eleven days from today. Right after Mike's birthday, she knows this.

Then why does the calendar say today is January 14th?

☆ ☆ ☆

Ashton woke up with a jolt. He quickly sat up, frightening the little Frenchie that was asleep right next to him on the bed. Trying to make sense of his surroundings, he roughly rubbed his face to get some sleep off of it and soon reached for the dog that was staring at him with sleepy but sad eyes. Ashton is sure Stitch understands far more than a dog is supposed to understand about their current situation.

The room is covered in shadows, almost pitch black, but he can see the sunlight even through the thick dark grey blinds covering up the windows. Ashton knows he won't be able to sleep again at that moment, so he gets up from the bed – much slower than he used to. His heartbeat is still out of control because of the nightmare that woke him up, but he can't bother to pay attention to it when Stitch is softly wailing beside him. Ashton lets out a ghost of a smile when the dog rests his head on his right upper thigh, looking up at him with an expression Ashton knows all too well.

“C'mon you little ravenous creature, let's feed you,” the bulldog excitedly jumps to the ground, already running his way down the stairs, not even waiting for Ashton to get up.

That gets a real smile out of him, but it vanishes as soon as he glances at the alarm clock on his bedside table. It reads 5:13 am, nothing out of the ordinary for him. But that small and inoffensive clock, with its red paint peeling off, holds a lot of memories for him. Memories that two months ago would bring joy to his heart, but now he almost wants to throw the object across the room.

It was a stupid thing, really. He had been wanting a vintage alarm clock and Olivia got one for his birthday. But the product they received was definitely not the one she bought, and if he's being honest, he didn't like it as much as he made out to. But seeing her so excited in the weeks before it arrived, and how disappointed she was when it did, he couldn't help but try his best to make her smile that luminous smile again. It's part of his nature by now.

That's also the reason why he lets her think that he doesn't notice when she wakes up at some ungodly hour (her words, not his) along with him, because of the annoying and only sound the alarm clock is able to produce. He always leaves soft kisses in every inch of bare skin he can find on her sleeping figure, so she goes back to the dream land and doesn't wake up before 10 am. No one wants to deal with that kind of bad humor, not even him.

As much as he likes being a morning person and absolutely enjoys her company in the mornings, he knows she'll take any and every extra hour of sleep she can get before starting the day. And that's why he loves that she's so stubborn that his early bird tendencies never got to her – he knows she feared that this would happen when they moved in together, but he met her like this, fell for her like this. He wouldn't change a single thing about her.

Ashton drags himself out of the bed, wincing slightly at how cold the wooden floors are under his bare feet. He doesn't bother putting some socks on, or a sweater – the cold weather in the house is uncharacteristically comforting to him. Nothing feels warm without her anyway.

While descending the stairs, he mentally curses himself for not being strong enough to look past the picture frames on the wall. One in particular catches his eyes – a picture from the night of Olivia's first concert with her band. The memories of that night are still painfully vivid in his mind: the laughter among their group that eventually infected everyone at the pub, Suki and Luke's first kiss and the silly smile that didn't leave his best friend's face all night, the standing ovation Olivia got after her three-songs set, and her captivating and breathtaking smile that made him realize right then and there, while watching her sway to the music, that he was definitely falling in love with her and there was nothing he could do to stop it – not that he wanted to.

So many memories held up on that wall, in the relatively short time since they met, that he can't help but wonder if that's all they'll get in this lifetime.

Ashton is abruptly taken out of his thoughts by Stitch's barks coming from the bottom of the stairs. He quickly jogs down the few steps left and goes straight after the dog's food in the kitchen's cabinet. After Stitch starts to happily devour his breakfast, Ashton goes to make his coffee, doing enough for two people like he always does, since Calum drops by most days for a chat or to drop Duke before going to work. Although all three of them know he just can't bother to make food for himself in the morning, while Ashton is the group's elected chef. Ashton always says he just needs a boyfriend – Olivia says Calum already has one who makes him breakfast every day.

He grabs an apple from the fridge and makes his way outside to their garden. Even though a lot of their memories took place there, the garden is the only space in the house where he doesn't feel like suffocating all the time. At least here, he can breathe some fresh air and look at the sky when he's feeling overwhelmed – which is basically all he's been doing for about a month now.

Yet, a lot of the garden has Olivia's name written all over.

He remembers vividly the day she came home after spending two weeks in LA doing some pocket shows, with a pack of daffodil seeds and the largest smile. She excitedly told him that a friend gifted it to her when she mentioned the little garden they were planning to build together at their new house. The friend told Olivia that daffodils symbolize rebirth and new beginnings, so as the good lover of symbolism that she is, Olivia loved the idea of having those flowers to symbolize their new beginning.

Ashton, on the other hand, wasn't a fan of the flowers at first – he just didn't see the appeal to them. But nonetheless, he indulged her, letting Olivia plant the seeds near the bench they used to sit during the quiet and unrushed afternoons, so they could admire the sunset, and she could happily look at the daffodils.

Pointless to say – the damn flowers grew on him.

Now, however, looking at them without Olivia and her contagious joy next to him, they were back to be as dull as they were before, if not more so.

Still lost inside his head without any sense of how much time went by since he sat down, Ashton doesn't hear the front door closing, and doesn't notice that he's no longer the only person inside the house until someone sits next to him on the bench. Yet, he doesn't show any sign of acknowledgement to them.

A few minutes go by before either of them speaks up.

“Luke said you didn't go to see her yesterday,” Calum starts softly, not wanting to disturb the calmness of the morning.

Ashton takes a few seconds to respond, “No point in doing that.” The black haired man licks his lips while thinking carefully about his next words.

“You know staying inside this house all day by yourself won't help either,” Calum turns his head to his left and takes a good look at Ashton's uncharacteristically hunched over figure, and immediately thinks that anyone can tell this man is not himself anymore. His second thought is that Olivia would hate seeing him like this.

“And what exactly do you expect me to do? Move on with my life like nothing happened? Like I'm not slowly and painfully losing the love of my life? Just because it’s easy for you doesn't mean it's easy for me.”

Calum closes his eyes and takes a deep breath. He knows Ashton doesn't mean it, it's the anger and frustration talking. He knows it. Doesn't make it sting any less.

“I'm not telling you to move on with your life, because that's far from what I'm doing, and I certainly don't expect you to do it. I'm just saying you need to occupy your mind or else–”

“I'll go insane? Think it's a bit too late for that,” Ashton interrupts with a bitter tone that doesn't belong to his usual chirpy voice.

“You know it's not,” Calum sighs and drinks the rest of his coffee, moving his body slightly, so he's facing the blonde man, “I got a job interview for you at that school you talked about so much last summer, the principal said you can go any day this week. I went ahead and sent her your resume as well as explained everything that she needs to know about Olivia, so you don't have to. You just gotta put on some decent clothes and show up.” he sees Ashton's face softening a little and takes it as a victory. A few beats go by and then, “Maybe take a shower too. That's gonna make you feel better.” Calum leans in closer to his friend's personal space and takes a sniff, causing Ashton to deflect from him slightly, but not to push him away – another small win.

“Definitely take a shower, you stink. When was the last time your hair saw shampoo?”

“Fuck off,” is Ashton's only reply to the younger man's inquest. But Calum can see a smile creeping up on the blonde's face, which brings out a smile of his own.

“I'll send you all the details later today,” he checks the hour on the watch on his wrist and gets up, “Just please, Ash, go. I can't lose you too.”

Calum gently lays a hand on Ashton's shoulder and squeezes a little. The man doesn't look up, but gives a curt nod to his friend, who's satisfied enough. Calum stops on the threshold of the garden glass doors to give some kisses to Stitch – who came to make Ashton company as soon as he finished his food –, and then he puts the coffee mug on the dishwater. And soon enough, he's on his way out of the door. But not before snatching a tangerine from the fridge.

Ashton is left by himself once again. As he hears the sound of the front door closing, he thinks that this might be his life from now on. Just him and Stitch, trying their hardest to make it through another miserable day without the love of their lives. While everyone else comes by just to make sure he's still breathing. Breathing, maybe, but alive?

Swallowing the tears, he looks up at the sky. It's a deep, beautiful mix of orange, pink and blue, but he knows that it won't last long and soon the rain will be pouring down. He thinks about how much Olivia loves the rain.

God, he needs to pull himself together. She would hate to see him like this. Maybe he should take Calum's offer after all, he really needs to occupy his mind.

Making a mental note to thank Calum later, and also to apologize for how rude he was to him this morning, Ashton slowly gets up from the bench to put his mug on the sink and makes his way to the living room, with the small dog loyally following his every step. He puts on some cartoon that for once doesn't remind him of her (she always lovingly made fun of him for still watching those) and cuddles with Stitch on the couch. He can take a shower later.

Not half an hour goes by, he falls asleep and has a good dream for a change. He dreams of the days he spent with Olivia in the Philippines last February, right before her first world tour started. Some of the most magical days of their lives – surrounded by delicious food, a whole new culture to learn about and the warmth of the sun. Infinite counted days full of love and passion, where they were the only people in the world.

Even his subconscious knows to hold on to that brief moment of happiness, because he might never live that again.

#anna writes #perhaps she does write after all #alright i'm gonna go hide somewhere now bye #ashton irwin fanfiction #ashton irwin fic #ashton 5sos #ashton irwin x oc #5sos fanfic #5sos fic #ashton irwin imagine #5 seconds of summer #5sos imagine #anna writes: rwylm

[khaleesiofalicante]

Hey Dani, just saw the ask about personal statements - those resources you included were really useful. I thought I might add by two cents since I'm also in the UK and applied for undergrad and postgrad so I have some UK specific experience in PS!

For me, I included an anecdote of how I became interested in the subject in the first place. I love books so I talked about how the behaviour of the characters in 1984 interested me and that's how I got interest in Psychology blah blah blah 😂

I then gave examples of how I've done my own research and reading into the topic. For example, I did an extended project that you may have also done, Futurelearn.com has amazing online courses you could do quickly and talk about. Just reading books or articles! Just getting across how much you love the subject, and the specific parts of the subject you enjoy (look up the modules your fave uni does and mention those!)

Why would you be good at uni? This is a good place to talk about any extra stuff you do. Sports, art etc. Say how much you love doing it and then how excited you are to also do it at uni. It's getting across how much you want to be part of the uni community.

If you've done stuff like volunteering, involved in school activities like plays or Christmas fairs - literally anything, they're also good to put in. It's about identifying the stuff you've done and thinking how that would look good to uni.

But by the sounds of it, you've already got it written! I would badger the living daylights out of my teachers to look at it and give feedback, it's their job. If your personal tutor is a bit rubbish, find a teacher you get on with or maybe even someone more high up - I know my college had people I could book 1-to-1 meetings with like the career councilor

I would say don't panic, a week may not seem like a long time but it can be if you find that assistance who can go through it with you. By the sounds of it, I think that's maybe what you need. Good luck! 😊

^^^

#thank you so much you kind kangeroo #college #personal statement #education #resources

[yuki-tsunodas]

The Player's Tribune: I will never forget the tears I shed that day

Article published 25 March 2021, originally written by Yuki Tsunoda in Japanese.

I translated the article with help from Google Translate and Naver Translator + my own interpretations of their rubbish translating, so apologies in advance for any mistakes! Anything I had trouble translating will be bolded with a (?) next to it!!

　I think that was the last time I cried in frustration, in regret.

　Four years ago, I was only 16 years old and was a student at Suzuka Circuit Racing School. It was the final selection to join Honda's Driver Development Program. If I pass, I can run in Japanese F4 the following year, but if I failed...I was thinking of quitting racing at that time.

　Now, I'm standing at the entrance of the stage called F1. Looking back, that was the turning point of my life.

　Of course, I didn't know if I would pass that year's trial because there were not only those who had already run in F4 but also some drivers who had come back from overseas.

　However, I've been racing in karts since I was four years old, and I've been doing well. That year, I was the youngest ever podium finisher in my debut race in the Japanese F4 championship, which allowed me to participate in the spot (?) race, and won the Super FJ Japan's first championship. At the selection test, there were good results until the final round of selection, and I was in a position to compete for first and second place overall. So I thought I could afford to make a big mistake in the final selection, and I was confident that I would still be in the top two in the end.

　I am a strong driver. But if you can't get results here or if you can't fascinate the judges with your running, it's already known (?). So I was prepared to give up my racing career if it didn't work. I think there were many other routes to go, such as running in other training programs or non-formal races, but I don't like it when it's not the direction I want to go. I decided to live a different life rather than to do it half-heartedly.

　However, the worst result awaited. At that time, I was very weak mentally and, of all things, it showed in the final round. Even before the race, I found myself tense and stiff. My fingertips were also stiff. I was not my usual self. I started like that, but suddenly I was flying...I had to drive through the pitlane and then rejoin the course. I felt like I was running alone, far away from the previous group. I felt sorry for myself, and I didn't even feel like running anymore. As a result, the points in that race were almost zero, and Tsunoda lost in the final round.

　I was so frustrated that tears welled up naturally on the train home. It was the first time since I started racing in earnest. I was the youngest among the participants, but I was shocked because I was confident that I wouldn't lose, and I couldn't imagine anything even if I tried to think about the future. I still remember clearly that I was so depressed that I didn't even want to see my parents on my way home from the Shinkansen.

　But there was only one faint hope. That was what the then Honda F4 coach said in an interview after the screening.

　"As a training driver for Honda, you will not be able to participate in the race next year, since the Formula 4 Honda has four cars. Maybe I can put you in one of the remaining two cars running as Suzuka Racing School."

　That was because former Formula One driver Satoru Nakajima recommended me. Mr. Nakajima was the principal of the school at that time, and at the time of the final selection, he was watching us run in the final chicane.

　I was given a penalty at the start, and I was racing without emotion, but I was running hard so that I wouldn't regret it. Through the visor, I saw Satoshi Nakajima standing in the final corner. I didn't want to show Mr. Nakajima a careless run. It was a hopeless ranking, but I thought I should not give up until the end and keep running toward the group in front of me. Then the road opened.

　In 2017, Suzuka Racing decided to enter me into F4 instead of making me a training driver. Then, I suddenly ranked 3rd overall in the annual overall ranking, and the following year in 2018, I was selected as a Honda Formula Dream Project driver, and was able to become the champion.

　It's all because I was frustrated at that final selection.

　The most unusual thing is that I think it's mental. Until I had a setback, I had a feeling that I would do well until the end without doing anything. I knew I wasn't good at starting even though I failed in the previous round, and I had time to practice before that, but I didn't. There was something sweet about overconfidence. And at that time, I was afraid of making mistakes, so I didn't know how to grow up.

　After failing the selection, I realized that I was still not perfect and that I had to be faster. I realized that it is important to make a lot of mistakes without fear of making mistakes, and to make new discoveries and grow from there. Therefore, I didn't feel impatient when I didn't get points as I wanted in the early part of the F3 and F2 seasons last year after I went abroad. Rather, there was no hesitation in the process of making a lot of mistakes first and learning a lot from them.

　Takuma Sato, a former Formula One driver, now driving in Indycar, is famous for saying, "No attack, no chance," but I think that's exactly right. If you don't try beyond the limits of any sport, you won't find the future, and if you don't try, you'll stop there. Therefore, even if there are times when I make mistakes or get no results, I don't feel strangely distressed. Even if you make a mistake, it's up to you to take it. Mistakes make me want to investigate the cause. If you think that you can overcome it, you can be faster than if you regret the mistake, and you can always face it positively.

　Now that I can race in F1, I feel grateful to my parents. I've liked to move since I was a child, and I played swimming, soccer, mountain biking, and also, not sports, but piano. Now that I think about it, I feel that my father and mother were letting me do what I was interested in. And the reason why I started driving karts was also influenced by my father. My father liked motorsports and played gym carna himself. One day, at the circuit venue I was taken to, I was allowed to drive a real cart. That was the first time. Actually, I also experienced a pocket bike at that time, but after trying two, I said, "The kart is more fun." I don't really remember at all (lol).

　But there were times I got sick of karts...

　For example, when I was about seven years old. When I was playing a game while waiting at the track, my father told me to "focus more on the race," and my game was taken away, and I felt like, "I don't like it anymore." Then my father became getting tougher and tougher on me to improve me, and he scolded me for many things. To be honest, I didn't really appreciate my father until I was 15, and there was a time when I hated him. 'This is "The Rebellion Period".' I think I was in the middle of it.

　Not only my father but also my mother was strict in terms of academic matters. I was always told to study in case I didn't succeed in motorsports. My junior high school was not a public school (?), so after the race, I would go home on the day, get ready for school, go to school, study, and take the test. To be honest, it was hard and I never liked it, but I continued to study anyway.

　At that time, I couldn't thank my parents, but now I have the opposite feelings. I think I am what I am now thanks to their harshness, scolding, and teaching me a lot of things back then. Thank you so much.

　I didn't expect to be able to get to F1 this quickly. Not only are there few Japanese drivers, but they are also those taking the shorter route compared to foreign drivers.

　When I first went to see F1 at Fuji Speedway at the age of seven, Lewis Hamilton and Fernando Alonso were running. At that time, I wasn't longing for it, but I thought "I wanted to race with drivers like this someday", and those feelings are still the same. Hamilton is already a legend, and it's an honor to run with him, but when I get on the circuit, both Hamilton and Alonso are just drivers. Think of them as enemies.

　It's the same for Max Verstappen, who I think is the fastest and strongest opponent in Formula One, and Pierre Gasly, who's my teammate in Alpha Tauri. I want to know as soon as possible how well I can handle Verstappen and how well I can compete. Gasly was active in Japan's top-category, Super Formula, when I was running in Japanese F4, and I hope I can learn a lot of things from him, but I think he's also my biggest rival that I have to beat someday because we're in the same machine.

　'In the world of F1, "speed" is ultimately required.' No matter how fast you say you are, if you show off your speed, you can make an impact, and if you have speed, you can get back in front in the second half even if you were overtaken or separated from the pack in the beginning of the race. However, it is actually the most difficult to show "speed" in a situation like this. My biggest strength is speed, so in addition to that, I want to learn more of what I lack.

　Come to think of it, at an online conference held this off-season, my goal came out big like, "I'll be a Formula One champion more than seven times, the most ever tied," but that's not what I meant.

　I haven't done a single race in Formula One yet, so I can't say that (bitter smile).

　What I'm thinking about right now is to give the best performance I have in the first race, and to get as many points as possible throughout the season. Just like F2, even if you go up to F1, you will make a lot of mistakes from the beginning to the middle of the season, but I want to learn a lot by making new discoveries there. After saying such a thing at the press conference, there was a question like, "What is Tsunoda's ambition?" So I replied, "Maybe I'll win the championship seven times like Lewis Hamilton?" which became a big headline.To be exact, I really want to concentrate on everything in front of me now, and I hope that my ambition will come true as a result of that accumulated effort.

　What kind of scene will I see in the future? I want to improve my ability and become a race driver representing the F1 world, and I think it will be a different pressure and motivation, so the expectations of the fans may be even higher.

　That's why I want to never forget how I felt when I drove in Formula One for the first time in 2021. I want to cherish the current feelings of a rookie and continue to make mistakes to my heart's content, learn a lot from them, and enjoy them.

　I don't think I'll shed tears like I did four years ago in the final selection. I will never forget the tears I shed that day. But if I were to cry from now on, what kind of tears would I have...?

　I think it's realistic to say when I first win the championship. It's very difficult to get to Formula One, but it's going to be a tough road ahead. It's really hard to win, so if I'm going to shed tears, it's probably not "regretful tears" but "happy tears".

#yuki tsunoda #f1 #well this was a pain to translate #but it was a very nice read :D #mine

[burningcowboyhoagietaco]

A Way to Learn a Lesson

written by:

@burningcowboyhoagietaco

illustrated and edited by the amazing, the one and only:

@lenle-g

Before I publish the story id like to thank @lenle-g from the bottom of my heart for being patient with me, being nice to me the whole time, and for making my story even better and more exciting. Without her I would have stayed in my normal, not that good English story. so thank you for everything!!! <3<3

And here's my part at @tagminibang submission:)

☆☆☆☆☆

Scott, no!!! No way! I am not going to give any lectures to anyone." John's voice comes out tight. "Especially not in front of a crowd. No way."

"Why not?" Scott raises a brow, his voice honeyed with ‘big brother wants something’. "It's not like you're gonna get executed by some children just for talking space at them, right? You love talking about space. It's all I've heard since you were, like, seven."

"No, that's not it." There's a sharp shake of the ginger’s head, "Scott, come on!" John knows for a fact that his oldest brother knows he's the most socially awkward person to have ever lived on Tracy Island (and maybe the entire planet). "You’ve lived with me long enough to know how much I hate social.... anything." John complains. "Why would you ever think I'd want to do this?""

"Well, yes, I know that," Scott shrugs, "I've seen that look you get on your face when there's a lot of people around." He’s well aware that his brother is an introvert who hates socializing with anyone, so he quickly changes the subject to try and make his younger brother feel a little more at ease. "But hey... everyone knows how much you like it when anyone talks about space or anything about astronomy. You'd be amazing at it."

"That's a different thing." John says flatly. Flattery, it seems, wont get Scott very far. "It's like, whenever you guys ask me anything about space, I like to answer them for you, but from random people…? And in huge crowds? I just simply can't." Surely he doesn’t have to explain himself much more than that?

"Oh trust me, everything is going to be fine." Scott was a flippant hand around, talking without really thinking, because all he wants is for his brother to get out of Thunderbird 5, to visit Earth for a little bit, to mingle with people a little. It can't be that bad. "If anything happens, Gordon and Alan'll be in Thunderbird Five doing Space Monitor duty, me and Virgil are gonna keep an eye on everything, and you’re in safe hands with Lady Penelope and Parker. It's all set up, so please go have some fun for once and teach the children something cool."

"My answer is still no." John says persistently, without hesitation. He's pretty sure it'd be worse than being in the middle of a hurricane, or testing one of his Grandma's new cooking experiments. It’s lucky Scott misses his involuntary shudder.

Scott, though, is so done with him at this point, that he's pretty sure there's no choice but to use plan b and hope that that works instead on his unwilling, stubborn, red haired brother. They've got to get him down from orbit and to that lecture somehow. Scott's just not going to stand for anything else.

"Are you sure that's your last answer?" Scott asks, with a heavy sigh, already planning the best way to call in the big guns.

"Yes," John scowls, arms folded. "Yes, it is."

They'll see about that.

...

"Is everything ready?" John adjusts his sleeves, smoothing down his vest and putting the last touches on his collar. Neat, simple, formal. Can't go wrong. "My presentation papers, laptop, and my mini simple dimple?”

"Yes, all in the bag." Scott calls back, rapidly checking everything, "But do you really need that little fidget thing of yours?" He picks his younger brother's old toy up between forefinger and thumb to examine it, remembering the day John made their Mom buy it for when he gets stressed.

"What fidge- oh, yes I need it." The look on John's face leaves no doubt about that. "I've used it ever since Mom bought it for me."

"Hey… Mom would've been proud of you, you know?” Scott tells him, in a quick flash of brotherly pride. “For, you know, going out of your safe zone for a little while and teaching the children and all that."

"Yeah, I know…" John finds him a nervous smile, "But I'm not doing this voluntarily, you've forced me with that plan b of yours."

The second John says that Scott's cheeks dimple, the corners of his eyes crinkle, and he grins victoriously, his teeth a bright white in the earliest rays of morning sun.

“All I had to do was make a call." He shrugs, "Lady Penelope did all the talking and somehow convinced you to go." Scott got a little more excited. He took a couple of steps forward, slightly standing on his toes reaching John's level asking"How did she convince you?" Clearly waiting teasingly for an answer to come out of John's lips

"Huhhhh." John exhales loudly, a little despairing. "She promised me we'd go to the Pagasa Astronomical Observatory after I finish the lecture with the children." He shrugs, keeping his eyes down, embarrassed.

"The what now?" Scott stares at him, thoroughly confused.

"The Pagasa Astronomical Observatory in the Philippines.” John says, like that was obvious, “It's equipped with a 45-cm computer-based telescope. It's so powerful that astronomers and astronomy enthusiasts can now conduct effective observations of stellar bodies and other distant space objects! Scott, it’s been my dream to go since I was, like, 17."

Scott always knew how much of an astrophile his younger brother is; he never cared about his physical appearance, nor his poor eating habits and he always used to make excuses to read his books alone, yet no one has ever interfered in his personal life.

"Okay okay space lover boy,” Scott grins at him. He'd expected Penny to be persuasive, but resigning herself to hours stuck with John in full excited-about-space mode would hardly be in his top ten. Either he's gonna owe her one, or Penny's more resilient than him. “You can go, no one is holding you back."

The short silence between them was broken by a ringing sound from a nearby table, which John answers.

“...Mhm, yes? Oh, the lecture." It must be Penelope calling, "Yeah, I'm ready, I'll head out now." John grabs his bag, wandering toward where the FAB1 must already be idling on the Tracy runway. "Time to go."

"Mhm,” Scott makes an agreeable noise, watching him go. “Please stay safe and please don't make an idiot of yourself." He's teasing… mostly.

"Yeah yeah," John waves at him over his shoulder, not even looking back. "I won't."

…

"Are we there yet?" Despite the consistently amazing views out of FAB1’s windows during the flight, John’s found himself mostly looking down, fidgeting with his fingers. He’s worrying, just a little, about what awaits him in the Philippines - a whole different tropical island to his own, though still in the South of the Pacific Ocean.

"Just give Parker ten more minutes, darling,” Her Ladyship smiles at him, “We'll arrive in no time."

There’s a moment of silence before, unexpectedly, it’s broken by a call flashing up from, of all places, Thunderbird Five. There’s a prickly sense of discomfort as John realises that, of course, it’s not him calling. Gordon must be trying to reach them.

"Heeeeey Lady Penelope,” The kid greets, as Penny flicks it on, seemingly a lot less bothered by the change than he is. “Oh, and Mr. Tracy.” There’s a huge smirk on his face. “How's our newest teacher holding up?"

"Firstly, my name is John.” John points out, flatly, “Second, I'm not your teacher so please don’t call me Mr. Tracy ever again. Thirdly…” He concedes, quirking an eyebrow, “Yeah, I'm good for now, but fourth… How are you holding up, up there in my Thunderbird? She’s not much like Four, is she?"

"Ooooooooo that's a good question,” Gordon looks half like he’s considering it, half like he’s really missing his own ‘bird. “I'm holding up pretty well thanks to Alan. He’s taken all the Monitor duty stuff, so all I gotta do is keep an eye on you guys." He sounds a bit… sarcastic about that. “It’s pretty boring, honestly. How do you survive up here without a pool?”

"Young Master Gordon, are you quite done talking?" Parker glances, unimpressed, at the little floating hologram of John’s brother in his rearview mirror, "Because we're about to arrive at our destination."

"Huh… oh yeah,” Gordon doesn’t seem too bothered about that, but he waves merrily at them all the same, “Okay bye and John, please have fun, you too Lady Penelope, okay bye guys."

It’s only a few moments later that Parker opens his mouth to tell them that they’ve arrived at Chino Roque Theater, pulling up out front to let them both climb out.

John's eyes widen: it’s nothing like what he saw on the internet. It was more enormous, more luminous, more spectacular than anything he’d seen or read online. All he remembers reading is that it's a sphere shaped building located in the Philippines, in Anilao Hill, but the pictures on the webpage didn’t do it justice like being there in person does.

The building was smooth and round; the auditorium shaped like a massive egg nestled in amongst the other buildings. They were early enough that the sun was just cresting the horizon, colouring the sky with reds and oranges, visible through the geometric front of the building - where giant triangles of glass intersect together to give the people inside an amazing view of the sky at night.

"M'lady, you and John can go ahead. I'll park FAB 1." Parker said, before going to the parking lot - unaware just how tiring and long his journey to find a place to park is going to be.

They both head inside the building, admiring the sweeping glass fractals of the roof high above them. It’s incredibly beautiful, really a feat of engineering. So much so, that John almost forgets why he’s even there, until he spots a couple of buses arriving on the other side of the building, and the panic sets in. He was expecting to be a little bit anxious, but this feels like his heart is going to beat right out of his chest. He presses a hand hard against it, trying to calm his racing pulse and stop the sudden shake of his fingers, and Penny must notice, because a little hand settles, ever so lightly, on his shoulder, drawing his attention to her.

"Hey John," Lady Penelope looks him steadily in the eye, projecting warmth and reassurance. "They're just a small, mixed group of children and teens. They can’t possibly hurt you, now can they? They just came to have a small lecture because all of them like space and astronomy just like you. Imagine yourself at their age, meeting a real life astronaut.” John tries very hard not to remind her who, exactly, his Father was, as she goes on - trying to visualise being a kid that didn’t get ‘take your son to work days’ at NASA’. It’s a pretty horrifying concept. “Most importantly,” Penny adds, “it's only for an hour or so, so you don't need to worry so much." She had to smile just to reassure him. “You’ll have filled their heads with space facts and be out before you know it.”

"O-okay,” John takes a deep, steadying breath, “I don't know if I'm supposed to trust you on this, or whatever, but I really don't have any other choice." He also wants to add that they forced him to go, but at the last second he remembers that they never forced him - he agreed to go because Lady Penelope promised him a trip to the observatory.

It seems like a pretty weak reason, now that he’s outside the stage door, knees shaking.

"Mhm, I think it's time to go inside.” She nudges him callously in the right direction, and John’s palms meeting the solid metal of the double doors is the only thing that keeps him from following gravity’s call and landing on his face. “Again, if anything happens, I'll be at the back of the room and I have a plan b if things get too much." John, pretty shocked by just how many plan b's the Lady Penelope might have prepared for the day, can only shake his head, bemused. “So stop worrying and get out there!”

She vanishes off into the atrium, and John can’t help the loud exhale that escapes his mouth before he musters up all the courage he can, and enters the room.

Bright lights startle him for a moment, and he’s pretty sure he does an awful, awkward impression of a blind baby giraffe as he stumbles out onto the stage and freezes as he notices the first smatterings of audience are already taking their seats.

The moment he placed his foot on the smooth wooden floor, his heart had started to beat faster, his hands began to sweat, the more steps he took forward the more he felt anxious. It was, he’ll think later, one of the toughest moments of his life, and he’s been to space. Multiple times.

Come on John. He tries to straighten up, shake off his anxiety, This can’t go worse than your first EVA.

Taking another deep breath, John waits patiently for all the attendees to take a seat inside the room. Waiting doesn’t help his anxiety levels at all, and he can feel them increasing by the second, but, determined, John doesn’t let it stop him from starting his lecture.

"H-Hello everybody,” He starts, incredibly conscious of the hushed silence that falls across his audience. “I'm John Tracy, M.Sci, PgDip, B.Lang Hons,” he rattles off his credentials, his nerves almost blurring them together, “I worked with NASA as an astronaut for three years before going… uh… solo in my astronomical studies, and I'll be your guest lecturer for the day.” He swallows around the lump in his throat, as a ripple of hushed oohhhs and ahhhs goes through the crowd. John’s pretty sure his face has gone bright red. “Thank you for having me at the Chino Roque Theater,” He goes on, before his embarrassment can bet the better of him, “I hope everyone’s had an amazing day so far. We'll be spending the next hour or so talking about astronomy and space physics, so shall we get started?" John thought it was a good opening, and yet his back was really wet from all the people's eyes on him. Glancing offstage, Penelope throws him a thumbs up, and he feels a little better.

"Um,” He blinks. “So does anyone here know how old the universe is?" John ventures, only to be surprised as almost everyone answers at once;

"Almost 13.8 billion years!"

"Yes,” The edge of a smile works its way onto John’s face. Clearly this was going to be a shout out the answer kind of lecture. He can work with that. “That's correct, now does anyone know how the universe started?"

"The Big Bang!" Most of them answer, and John feels a surge of relief. These guys really are into space.

"Okay, okay, not bad at all." He nods affirmatively at them, and the screen behind him lights up with an artist’s rendition of the Big Bang happening. "Now if I were to go and search ‘how old is the universe’ in, say, Google, the answer would be 13,772 billion years. It’d be the same thing if we looked at NASA, or even Wikipedia - so how did people get to know the age of the universe? How do you even start calculating something that old? Well I'm going to explain it for you in two ways: the good, nice way, and the kinda not that good and not that scientific way." There’s a bit of an awkward pause as John wonders whether or not he’s explained that well. When only silence greets him, he very quickly realises he needs to press on.

"So, uh, the good way.” He folds his fingers together behind his back, trying to resist the urge to fidget. “Well, in the middle of the previous century, as telescopes developed, we noticed something strange. We found that stars in very distant galaxies tend to look red… Umm, which is something that’s not supposed to happen.” A chuckle escapes John and, to his relief, the audience laughs with him. Scott never gets his space jokes. “So why’s that?” He asks, “See, if a chemical element gains or loses energy it’ll emit light in certain frequencies, thereby creating certain colors.” A small movement of his hand signals the slide to change, and a picture of the visible section of the electromagnetic spectrum appears, colouring the room with rainbow light. “For example,” John goes on, bathed in blue and violet, “Consider something like… a desk lamp, as like an element. If you give a lamp electrical energy, it’ll release that energy in the form of heat and light, yeah?" There’s a murmur of uncertain understanding in the room. “Electricity goes in, the bulb gets hot, and it gives off light. Well, we know stars do pretty much the same thing - only powered by nuclear fusion rather than a nine volt plug.”

"From studies of the sun and stars that are near Earth, we know that they’re made of helium and hydrogen, yes?” There’s another murmur of agreement in John’s crowd, “Well, hydrogen and helium can create red light, but they don't have the ability to create these shades of red that we see in deep space." The slide behind John clicks to a comparison of the two shades, on two different stars - making the difference clear.

"So, if stars are made of helium and hydrogen then why do distant stars have different colours? Are their compositions different?uh, well It’s possible, but not likely. The strongest explanation is that the color difference is due to the movement of the stars." The room gives a soft gasp at this news, and John knows he’s onto something good.

"So there's something called the redshift and blueshift phenomenon that says that if an object radiates light and approaches you, the color of the light begins to turn blue, and if the object is moving away from you, the color will turn red. This happens because the wavelength of light contracts and expands with movement meaning that something stretching equals red and contraction equals blue."

"And the strange thing is,” John adds, his audience listening raptly, “That most, if not all, stars show the same behavior, so, if we think about it, if all stars are moving away from us, that means that they were close to us at some point, and if we follow their path, we find that everything in space meets at a point named ‘singularity’."

"It was believed, in the past, that everything in the universe, or at least in the visible part that we have observed, that is to say,” John flicks to a graphic on his next slide. “All the galaxies, planets and stars, were all gathered at one point - the singularity. The theory is that this point exploded in what we call the ‘Big Bang’, and from that time onward, the universe has been in constant expansion.”

"So it’s with data from this knowledge that we can calculate the age of the universe:” With a wave of his hand, John puts a series of bullet points up on the screen behind him, then reads them aloud.

“One, the universe began as a very small, single point.” He reaffirms, “Two, the universe is constantly expanding outward from that point, and three, from these we have the ability to calculate the expansion rate of the universe, by calculating the speed of the stars that are moving away from us. If we take the furthest accelerations and enter them into this equation,” John’s board merrily does it’s thing behind him, “Then, we get the age of the universe."

"And, so we don't forget, all this talking was about the good way. There is another way to calculate the age of the universe, the, uh, not as good way, or, more specifically, the less scientific way.” A ripple of laughter goes through John’s audience - and he relaxes a little more. Maybe Scott was right. Maybe these are his kind of people. Scott’s never laughed at a space joke for sure. “There's no problem with it,” He quietens them again with a gentle gesture, “and it does support our theory and calculations, so I guess we should talk about it."

"Since ancient times, humans have been looking at the sky, watching the stars, and giving them names like Cygnus, Canis Major, Orion.” All names any young astronomer in the Southern Hemisphere would recognise, and be able to enthusiastically point out in the night sky. “In those days, there wasn't the internet so they were looking up at the stars instead.” Much like John himself, when he’d been a boy.

“As a way of calculating the age of the universe, astronomers set out to search for the oldest celestial bodies in space.” He goes on to explain, “The idea was that if we find a star whose age equals X, then the age of the universe must be greater than the number X. So we pointed our telescopes up there and started trying to find out their ages from birth, to youth, to their old age until their end."

"Can anyone guess the age of the oldest star we've found?" A lot of answers were guessed, some of them were pretty close, but some, amusingly, were way too far. "Ok, ok…” John puts his hands up to pacify his excited crowd, “Umm I see there are a lot of answers, but the oldest star people discovered was actually estimated to be 13.5 billion years old. The HD-140283, or as you might know it, the Methuselah Star. That number is very close, you’ll notice, to our estimation of the age of the universe."

"But if we found a star that is 13.5 billion years old today, then we could find an even older star next week and that would ruin all of that,” He chuckles, mostly to himself, “We also should note that this method alone isn't suitable for determining the universe’s age, but as long as we have two methods with corroborative results, we can be reassured that the estimate is correct.” He pauses for a second, “So, does anyone have questions?" A couple of hands raised, and John found himself suddenly answering a lot of questions - but he managed all of them despite his fear of the huge crowd.

He’s starting to feel more than a little overwhelmed.

"Umm… W-well that was a lot of questions,” John tries to pull it back in, his allotted lecture time ticking away on the big clock at the back of the hall. He feels a little panicky from the bombardment, and his palms have gone sweaty. “We’d better move on.” To distract himself from the people, as much as anything, “Our next topic is the theory of relativity, so l-let's get started on that."

Lady Penelope, from her fold-out seat at the back of the room, frowns. It’s clear John’s terrified and she wants to use plan b, but as long as he’s still standing on his feet, and giving the lecture, he's probably fine for now. If anything, it’d cause more of a disruption to drag him away now.

"Umm,” John takes a breath, trying to centre himself in the science of it all. “Let's start with a supposition, a hypothesis if you like, and consider it together. Okay, you’ll have to bear with me on this one, but let us suppose that we were all asleep, and the universe suddenly inflated by a thousand times.” There’s a murmur in the crowd at how odd everything abruptly getting that much bigger sounds, “Your bed, your pillow, your desk,” John extrapolates, “even the meter we measure stuff with. If humans became a thousand times bigger, when we woke up would we feel something strange? Would we even notice anything had changed? You’d think so, but no.” John’s settling back into his rhythm now, “So why is that? Because the bed and everything became a thousand times more inflated and our bodies also inflated a thousand times, with everything scaling in parallel relation to each other so that this percentage, this scale, was preserved throughout the room. You’d never know the difference."

"Henri Poincaré, the well known mathematician and theoretical physicist, says that we will never be able to discover that something like this has happened, even if we use all the mathematics and calculations ever invented.” John drives the point home with another illustrated slide, “This hypothesis is called the Poincaré hypothesis, and simply, because the meter with which we measure things will have also expanded a thousand times, there’s never going to be any equation or calculation or any analysis possible that could lead us to the truth, because the ratio is preserved in all parts."

"Now, this is important, because the same thing also happens with time. If everything suddenly got a thousand times faster, we’d still never feel anything different. Why’s that?” He asks, rhetorically, “Because time is also a thousand times faster, your heartbeat is also a thousand times faster, your body would function a thousand times faster to keep up with it all. As long as everything is increased by the same amount, the ratio is preserved, and none of us will be able to detect any change."

"So Poincaré asked the scientific community; is there no way to know that time increased or that things inflated?" John tells the room, "Well, it was Albert Einstein who answered him, deciding that the one and only way to tell, would be to have someone observing what happened to the world from another galaxy, from another world, lightyears away. For someone to point a telescope in our direction, and look through it at us, and say what happened to the Earth? Why are humans walking a thousand times faster than in the past? But this person who realized the situation,” The astronaut waves a flippant hand, starting to feel much more confident again, “would have to be a person standing on a fixed external platform in a different world, so that what happened to us was not also happening to him."

"But, as Einstein commented, this hypothesis is impossible for a simple reason and it's that there is no fixed platform in the universe - the entirety of it is in constant, turbulent motion. For example, the Earth rotates at a speed of 460 meters per second, revolving around the sun at 30 kilometers per second, and at the same time, the sun and it’s planets and dwarf planets and moons and asteroids, all revolve around our galaxy, The Milky Way, at a speed of 300 kilometres per second, and so the whole universe revolves. That's,” John takes a deep breath, finding himself out of air after so much explaining, “why it's impossible for us humans to completely accurately judge the motion of any astral body."

"Because there is no fixed berth, we can only offer relativity. This is the first part of the theory that Einstein came up with, in summary; it cannot be said that the monotony of a body is absolute motion."

"Another thing he said was that, because of the vastness of the universe, it’s impossible to synchronize, what does that mean? Well, I will give you an example.” He flicks his slide, “Say I’m a person in the Philippines, and I'm talking to someone from the United States. We synchronize, and hear each other in real time, because we have a method of fast communication. I can hold my device and say; hello, how are you?” John holds up the slim, sliver slice of his phone to show the audience, “How’s the weather there? And they’d answer me with something like; I’m fine thank you, it's night here so it’s a bit hard to tell what the weather’s doing! What’s the weather like there? And I’d answer them; it's daytime, and maybe ask them something like, what are you eating? They’d answer me; a burger, and then I’d tell them that I'm eating kaldereta, and it’s much better than a burger."

In the audience Penny quietly hopes that Gordon, who's probably listening in with the rest of his brother’s, missed the fact John was making jokes on stage. The poor little bugger’ll never live it down otherwise.

"These two events, each person talking to the other, are compatible.”  John goes on, absolutely oblivious, “It’s possible because the two wireless devices, be they mobile phones or more sophisticated comms systems, are on the same globe, creating a fast means of communication.”

"But,” John postulates, “If I was talking to someone from another galaxy and I used the same means of communication to make a call, do you know how long it would take to get to them? It would be about five to six thousand years until my signal reaches the phone of our friend, and they’ll have married, had children and died, and their children would have married and had children and died, and so on, for thousands of years before then."

"And that's why it's impossible to synchronize between the ends of the universe,” John balances his palms like he’s weighing two invisible ends, “It rather puts a damper on our chances of finding and communicating with extraterrestrial life, for sure, but at least it’s possible to synchronize within one system, like the system of the Earth. "

"This is a thing that also applies to light, for example: any star you could look up and see now, the light emanating from it may be coming from thousands of years ago. This means that it’s possible that the star you see shining could have exploded and disappeared, and hasn't existed for a long time. Why? Because it takes a couple of thousand years for the light from that explosion to reach us."

"There isn’t any proof for the hypothesis that the universe is linked by time, but the thing that happens that we’re sure of is that the universe is made up of, sort of, separate islands of different times that have no connection between them. The connection between movement and time in space is something we all know about, for example, a day on Earth equals twenty-four hours, yes?” There’s a chorus of agreement from the audience, “But on Saturn, a day is ten hours because it rotates faster. Astonishingly, a day on Mercury is the same as fifty-eight whole Earth days, which, infact, is also a Mercurian year, because the planet revolves around the sun for the exact same period as it revolves around itself."

"Okay, so, to what extent is movement related to time?” John asks, well and truly into this whole teaching thing now, “Well, Einstein was the first person to discover the connection between them and suggested that; suppose you’re on board a very fast rocket, 100,000 miles per hour for example. The mechanical watch on your wrist would be delayed over the flight, but you wouldn’t feel like time is being delayed. Why’s that? It’s because the rhythm of your heart would slow down - all of the vital processes in your body that are inside the rocket will slow down."

"As you move more, something called the dilation of time will happen.” He steps to the side, as if to illustrate the point, only to find himself stumbling a little, like if the ground beneath his feet had moved. “T-Time slows down,” John tries to recover it smoothly, but everything’s starting to feel, weirdly, like it’s shaking, and he doesn’t think it’s the anxiety anymore, “and that's-"

John doesn’t get to finish his sentence because there’s an abrupt shift and a loud cracking from under him, and getting off the stage suddenly seems like a good idea. Someone screams outside, and the volume in the room skyrockets as the children start panicking. John’s one hundred percent sure this wasn't anything planned.

He knew he shouldn't have come.

Earthquake? He wonders first, then; Tsunami? Ground slip? Hurricane? Whichever it is, John has to prioritise calming the people and evacuating them out of the building. The giant glass panels above them are trembling with the force of the shaking, and, as a professional at this sort of thing, Thunderbird Five’s Space Monitor doesn’t like the look of it one bit.

"Everyone calm down,” He has to shout to make himself heard over the roar of people, even with the microphones pointed his way, “This is a normal thing. All we have to do is evacuate immediately, as calmly. as. possible. I don't want anyone crowding the exits, do you all understand what I just said?" The front rows, white faced with fear, nod encouragingly at him, and he watches as they begin to lead the way toward the glowing green signs that signal the emergency exits. Immediately after making sure the crowd is moving, John pulls up his comm to contact Gordon.

"Gordon, are you on the line?” John’s a little breathless and he climbs down from the precarious stage, into the throng of terrified bodies, “We have a situation in here."

"Let me guess, you caused it?" Gordon seems so excited to hear something other than his brother's boring lecture that humour has outweighed his professionalism.

"Gordon,” John grits his teeth, “I'm being serious right now, there was a huge movement in the ground beneath the Chino Roque Theater, and it's still ongoing. Tell Alan to do a check on what's happening beneath us using the Ground Penetrating Radar." He orders.

"F.A.B." Comes the far more serious response, before Gordon clicks off the line to do just that. Squashing down any fear he’d about the now swelling, shuffling crowd, John opens his arms wide and walks toward them, the motion sort of like he’s trying to herd sheep, as he tries to evacuate the people safely out of the building.

He’s not exactly an expert at being on the scene during rescues.

"John, there's a landslide going on right now,” Alan’s worried little voice comes ringing out of his comm speakers, “Right next to the theatre. You’d better get out of there. I’m monitoring the situation, but it’s looking like you’re going to need International Rescue to get you and the people out of there. The debris field is spreading fast." John would do almost anything to be up there instead, at his own screens. “I've contacted Virgil and Scott, I’m patching them through now.” Alan clicks Scott and Virgil, both clearly just finishing their suit up sequences, into the conversation. It seems important to keep them up to date with John's developing situation.

"Hey Mr. Tracy, how are you holding up?" Scott jokes over the roar of his launching Thunderbird, the sound filling the background of the call with white-noise, "Oh, and how was your lecture?" John thinks he sounds far too casual in contrast to the impending danger all around him.

"Oh my God, Scott, is now really the time?” John groans, and a kid with mousey blond hair not dissimilar to Alan’s looks up at him, very confused, before the astronaut waves him on, “You are an adult person,” He reminds his big brother, “Please don't be like Gordon right now. He’s practically still a child."

"Hey!” Gordon had clearly overheard the conversation between his brothers, and springs up to defend himself. “I'm only two or three years younger than you!" He complains, not about to do the math.

"Gordon, we don't have time for arguing about that now,” John frowns, “and Scott, I'm holding up alright at the moment. Please don't ask me anything about the lecture until I get back home." If his voice cracks a little on that last bit, he’ll never admit it.

"Okay, okay I won't ask anything about that,” Scott reassures him, his amused, big brother grin very much in place, “Keep on evacuating the people safely until we arrive John, you’re doing great. It won’t take us that long. ETA at 15,000 mph is sixteen minutes.” He reassures, “We’ll be there before you know it."

"F.A.B. Scott." He reluctantly signs off. Now that he’s finished talking with Scott, John’s pleased to see that a lot of people have already made their way out of the atrium’s three sets of double doors, evacuating the building to get as far away from the landslide as possible. His fingers itch to pull up the schematics from Thunderbird Five on his comm, no matter what the people around him might think. He quickly caves, and it feels worth it to be able to see the incoming tide of slipping land.

They don’t have much time.

“Let’s go!” He shouts, chivvying. He’s a little breathless with the tension, so he keeps things short. “Come on! Let’s move guys!”

From his vantage near the crumbling stage, John can make out Lady Penelope and Parker by the main doors, ushering people through, and the sight of them fills him instantly with immense relief.

“Okay, that's a good amount of people out.” John has to jog to catch up with them, skirting around a little old lady with a zimmer frame and taking a second to correct her course, “Lady Penelope, Parker, I think you should go and check on the people who’re out. They could have minor injuries from the stampede, and International Rescue are still ten minutes out. I'll make sure the last few stragglers exit safely."

Penelope just nods, pale and worried. Her blond brows are all pinched in together, nervous and Parker looks practically haggard as he claps a reassuring hand on John’s shoulder, her faithful old companion following her pink shape dutifully out the doors. Hopefully they’ll go make sure that no one was badly injured in any way.

Turning back to the slow cascade of cracking rubble behind him, John finds the stage area has been all but obliterated, and his heart aches for the patrons of the Chino Roque Theater who’ll have to rebuild from scratch when this is over. He imagines the Tracy fund can contribute a significant amount toward that though. They often do for worthy causes.

John pushes the damp curl of his slightly sweaty bangs out of his eyes and climbs over what looks like a twisted piece of ceiling girder toward the sound of people, possibly trapped stragglers, who are calling for help.

"I miss Thunderbird 5 so much,” John mutters, keeping it under his breath so that no one hears him, as his palms are scraped raw against the concrete he’s trying to clamber around. There’s a rippp of fabric on a jagged piece of metal and the knee of his previous pristine brown jeans meets much the same fate as his poor, scuffed hands. “Oh, come on!” He’s having no luck today, “I'd so rather be assisting the situation from space. I can’t believe I’m stuck here." John grumbles, to no one in particular. He’s just not built for this kind of thing. Heavy labour and getting sweaty pulling people out of scrap heaps is what his other brothers do. At least rescues in space don’t have all this… gravity to contend with.

"John?” The crackle of a comm cut’s across his complaints, “What’re you still doing in there?” Gordon’s voice breaks him from his thoughts, little brother’s tone heavy with concern. “The building could fall any moment! You're so lucky the landslide isn't moving very fast, but it’s not gonna stay that way forever." Gordon was really worried about the fact that his older brother was still inside. “It could engulf the building! You need to hurry it up, bro.”

"I'm evacuating the people as fast as I can,” John gets both hands under the armpits of a boy who couldn’t be older than seven, and swings him above a pile of rubble toward safety, “I'll be out in no ti- Ah!"

John’s voice gets cut off with a startled cry, and it takes Gordon a second or two, time John might not have, to remember how to breathe so that he can yell in any way coherently into his comm. His eyes are wide, his anxiety levels through the roof as he tries, and fails, to rouse his brother on the other end.

"SCOTT! You need to get there now.” Gordon’s aware that he’s totally losing his cool, panic creeping in over his weak layer of professionalism, “I just lost contact with John.” He gasps, “He was evacuating people and I heard him yell and now he’s not responding! And- and it's not just him. There were other people he was trying to get out."

"Hey Gordon,” Scott tries to keep his voice steady to inject some kind of stability into the conversation, “Don't lose your cool yet. I'm sure nothing that bad happened to John. Just stay your positive self, okay? I’m arriving right now and Virgil isn’t far behind me."

Thunderbird One is panning over the city, low enough to ruffle the hair of people looking up, but it’s not a problem until the usually so sure and steady pilot finds his hands nearly slipping off her controls as Scott catches his first, horrific glimpse of the building that he knows his younger brother is inside.

“What the…?”

The Chino Roque Theater is almost flat.

"Virgil,” Scott swallows hard to try and remove any of the tremor from his voice, “A-Are you seeing what I'm seeing right now?" He almost succeeds.

"Scott this isn't a joke, it looks like half of the building has come down with the landslide! John’s in there!" Virgil sounds more terrified than Scott thinks he’s ever heard him. What scares him the most is that the exit was on the side that has fallen in, which means that a lot of people are trapped under it, their John included. "Scott, we need to help them right now.

"Okay, here's the plan,” Scott’s hands tighten white-knuckled on the steering yoke, “You wear your exo-suit and go clear the debris out of the way so that we can save them, and I'll get rid of that roof with Thunderbird One and check for life signs. Remember that saving lives is our top priority, got it? No matter what’s happened to John."

"F.A.B." Virgil sounds incredibly tense. He lands Thunderbird Two as fast as he can in the crowded, limited space. Local people are beginning to make their way out of their houses to see what all the commotion is about, and the cramped city streets aren’t ideal for International Rescue’s four hundred and six ton workhorse.

Two’s pilot struggles into his exo-suit, rushing to get the Jaws of Life prepared despite Scott’s insistence that he focus and take things slow and sensible. It’s not long until he finds himself digging among the debris looking for buried people and, in the white rush of it all, Virgil’s not even sure how he got there.

"Scott,” he presses on his comm, “Please tell me you’ve got something?"

"Fortunately and thankfully yes,” It’s hard to find the hopefulness in big brother’s clipped Mobile Control voice, but it’s there to Virgil’s expert ear, drizzled in nervous relief. “I've got a whole cluster of life signs,” Scott reports, “BPM signalling in the green. "I think they’re just trapped under the debris." Alan’s echolocation report came back suggesting that there’s a big space under what could be folded sheet metal from the ceiling, that they’ve huddled in. I'm really sure there's nothing that bad, but still we have to continue otherwise it will take a bad turn for us and the people in there."

“I can use the grappling cables in Thunderbird One to take the strain off the roof,” Scott adds, “But I need you in there to get those people out.”

“Already on my way,” Virgil ducks under some rebar, skirting around the rubble and pulling away loose debris as he goes. His heart is loud in his own ears, and Virgil hopes the creak and groan of metal and concrete above him is Scott lifting the weight off the roof, keeping it from collapsing any further onto the people below, and not anything more sinister. Virgil gets peppered by a slide of small stones, but the roof holds steady.

He presses on until he catches sight of the cluster of around forty people, all huddled together around a tall, central figure with a shocking amount of rubble dust smeared over his face, and powdered through his ginger hair.

“John!” Two’s pilot makes a beeline for his brother, despite the fact three of the people are stuck under rubble. Clearly John’s in control of the situation here, and he’s never wanted a mission update from their Space Monitor so much in his life. He can’t help but hone in on the fact John's left arm is crudely wrapped in a piece of cloth from his sleeve, which he must’ve ripped off in order to tie it.

"You have to tell me exactly what happened,” Virgil drops the controls for the Jaws of Life, and grasps his brother’s biceps in both hands instead, resisting the very strong temptation to pull the spaceman in for a hug. “And what happened to your arm?!?" There’s a river of blood seeping from beneath the make-shift bandage, but John, it seems, isn’t bothered by it in the slightest.

"Not now Virgil.” His concerns get thoroughly dismissed, “We’ve got to get these people out of here, and then I'll tell you everything." Virgil didn't like the idea that something happened to his brother and he's silent about it, but after all John was right about saving the people first since his arm is under control for now.

John crouches by the nearest injured person; a pale, skinny teen with a sizable piece of rebar keeping him pinned.

“You’re gonna be out of there in just a second, Lito.” Virgil watches him reassuring the young man for a long moment, “Uh, Virgil?” John prompts. “Any time?”

“What?” He blinks, “Oh, yeah!” His brother is clearly waiting expectantly for him to use the Jaws of Life to get the poor kid out. "I’m on it, but you better tell me everything after we're done saving them." Virgil demands. “But, uh, Scott’s kind of holding the roof up right now, so you’re probably right.”

"Okay,” John literally rolls his eyes, busy stealing a pair of blue rubber gloves from the Med Kit Virgil brought with him, and snapping them on to protect his hands and the fine cuts he’d gotten from climbing over rubble. “I promise I'll tell you everything, but can we start actually rescuing them now?" Rolling his eyes right back, the bigger man uses his exosuit to heft the rubble off Lito, before John swoops in to apply pressure to his injuries.

“Give me the fold out stretcher from your sash.” He orders, hands bloodied “Then go get the next person out. Efifania, Sergio?” John beckons a pair of nearby dad’s in closer, clearly having singled them out as capable stretcher bearers. “Think you can manage Lito here for me?”

As Virgil starts removing the rubble from above the other two trapped people, a middle aged man and a younger woman, it becomes immediately obvious that both of them have more severe wounds than young Lito. They both need medical treatment immediately.

“I’ll carry one of them.” Without the three extra sets of hands he’d need, Virgil has to leave a couple of crowd members applying pressure to their wounds, as he moves back to where John is helping Lito unsteadily to his feet. “Think you can walk, young man? We’re gonna need that stretcher for the big guy.”

“I won’t let you fall.” John promises, and Virgil feels a real swell of pride at how well his brother is handling the situation whilst being outside of both his space station and his comfort zone. It looks like having a rescue and a job to do really gives him no time for anxiety. "I agree that that's our best plan.” He adds, nodding, short and sharp, to confirm it, then John turns, an arm around Lito’s waist and the kid’s arm slung over his shoulder, to address the crowd.

“Anyone not so severely hurt needs to help get the injured out of here.” John instructs, the small crowd listening raptly. The look on the faces of these scared people is one Virgil is all too familiar with, but he knows John has far less experience of in person. They’re really looking to him as their saviour. “Virgil here is going to lead us through the path he just made.” Which is news to Virgil, but does seem like the best plan. “International Rescue will then be able to take us all to the hospital to get checked out, and then I’m sure you’ll be released to go home to your families before you know it. Got it everyone?"

In that moment Virgil finds himself struck with amazement at how John seems to have become almost as fearless as Scott, as they started carrying the two injured people out to safety. It was really a new side to him that Virgil doesn’t think he’s ever seen before.

"Virgil… I need you to check on Lady Penelope and Parker.” John’s keeping pace at his side, helping the boy they’d dug out along as he goes, “I told them to check to see if anyone was hurt."

"Hmm, yeah you're right.” Virgil frowns. If Penny and Parker have any more injured party members, even minor ones that just need a check up, Thunderbird Two will need to evacuate them to the hospital as well. “Have you got any idea where they might be?"

"Well, I told them to get somewhere away from the landslide,” John frowns, as their limping, shocky party stumbles out into the bright light of day, to be greeted by the roar of Thunderbird One’s engines high above them. “They should be near here.” He yells over the sound of it.

As usual, it turns out that John is completely right. Penny and Parker are waiting for them, but neither John nor Virgil find the look on Lady Penelope's face all that reassuring.

"JOHN!” She rushes toward the battered, bloodied spaceman, her arms outstretched. Virgil very quickly and carefully finagles poor Lito out of the way as his brother gets ambushed. “Are you okay?!?” Penelope demands, frantic, “What happened to your arm?” She reaches for the bloodied bandage, and John winces, “I'm so sorry,” All of John’s carefully constructed rules around personal space are shattered as she cups his cheek, inspecting his face for injury. It’s lucky that John is by far the most patient of the Tracy boys. “I shouldn't have left you there.

"She’d been so terrified, perhaps more than anyone else here. The horrific view she’d seen with her own eyes is going to haunt her for a long time yet. One second she was getting out of the building to reassure and check up on the people, and the next she was watching half the structure collapse completely, with John under the side that fell. She still feels a little sick.

"I'm so, so, so sorry John,” She repeats, before he can get a word in edgeways to reassure her, “Please, you must tell me if there's any way I can make it up to you. Ask me anything and I'll do it."

"Okay guys,” Virgil chuckles, “while you talk things out I'll go to get the injured people aboard Thunderbird 2. Make it quick though, we’ve still got people who need immediate medical treatment, got it?"

"F.A.B. Virgil.” John nods, “We'll be quick. Penny, I..."

“I’m so sorry.” She repeats again, and pulls his good arm over her shoulder as if to steady him as they make their way at the back of the crowd toward the big green Thunderbird.

"No no no, Penny, please stop apologising.” John’s fingers tighten for a quick moment on her shoulder, in brief reassurance, “I'm not going to ask you for anything because it was never your fault.” He insists, “It was just some bad luck, that's all. Fortunately I, and most people, got out safe with no severe wounds. These things happen.”

“Your arm.” She points out softly, hoping that all that blood looks worse than it is, “John I can’t believe you stayed behind like that, it’s so...”

“Tracy?” He grins, amused but very weary.

“Scott Tracy.” She corrects, scowling a little as she holds on just that little bit tighter around his waist as his adrenaline from the rescue starts to flag. “I thought you had more common sense.”

“Hate to disappoint.” She feels the warmth of him chuckling, “I’m lucky it was nothing worse than his cut from some shattered glass that fell on my arm while I was helping one of the guys who got stuck. I don’t think any arteries or anything have been damaged, but it is... kinda deep." And he might be getting a little lightheaded from the blood loss. Still, he really wants to reassure her, just like she had reassured him before he’d gone in to give the lecture.

"Hate to interrupt your moment, but are you guys done?" Scott pops up from who-knows-where amongst the crowd to yell at them. He’s clearly joined the relief effort. "Virgil’s just finished getting everyone aboard Thunderbird 2, and he's ready to launch." He adds, squinting at the pale, wobbly mess of his brother. "And you really do need to check your arm. That looks nasty.”

"Yeah Scott,” John wipes a tired hand over his dirty face, dislodging dust, “We're done. Don’t let Thunderbird Two wait for me, I'll hitch a ride with Lady Penelope, uh,” He turns to her, bashful, to check, “If that’s okay?"

“Of course,” Her Ladyship concedes, “Scott?” She is mildly concerned that big brother might want to have the injured member of his flock under his wing so he can smother him.

"Yeah sure, ride whatever you want.” Scott flip flops a dismissive hand at them, “You can ride a pod, I won't care as long as your destination is the hospital."

"How about you, Gordon?” John knows his little brother is still on the line, probably sulking. “Is it okay if I take the ride with Lady P?"

"W-what do you mean by that?” Gordon sounds confused and maybe a little embarrassed, like he’s been caught out. “Scott already said you should go, why’re you asking me?"

"Well, she's your girlfriend.” John grins, teasing, as Penny helps him into the back of FAB1. “Of course I have to get permission from her boyfriend.

"Penny swats at him for that, amused, but careful not to hit his injured arm. She doesn’t need anyone’s permission to do anything, but it is fun to see Gordon squirm - especially as Scott and Virgil both crack up, and even Alan in space starts teasing him.

"What?!?” Gordon’s face, bless that darling young man, has gone bright red. “J-Just go already." He ducks off the comm screen to try and hide his embarrassment, but it’s far too late for that.

He’s lucky that Penelope finds it incredibly endearing.

"John,” She nudges him, as the Tracy’s all click off the line to go do their actual jobs. She’s a little concerned that he’s looking a bit spaced out, if you’ll excuse the pun, and it’s probably a good idea to keep him talking. “You know we're still going to The Pagasa Observatory, just like I promised you, right?"

"Wait really?” John’s head tilts, a little floppy, towards her from where it had been sinking into FAB1’s luxurious headrests. He’s looking a little grey, but it’s good to see his eyes open. “After all that happened?” A ginger eyebrow quirks, “Are you sure there's time for that?"

"Well, we’re on our way to the hospital now, but there’ll be plenty of time this afternoon.” As long as the medics give him a clean bill of health. “You can change your clothes after we're done checking your arm then there should be time for you to go see that big telescope you've been dreaming of visiting. After all, I did promise you we’d go there after we're done."

"Well, that sounds good to me!” John smiles like there’s a supanova fuling him, “Penny you’re the best."

They reach the hospital a little after International Rescue has dropped off the fourty or so injured people, and so there’s quite a wait for a Doctor to be free so that they can have a look at John’s poor, sliced arm. Penny seems to be doing a worried hover at his side, while he waits, shaky from blood loss, and though he’s not used to having so much company, John has to admit it’s nice to have a chance to catch up with his old friend with no rescue alarms blaring.

Alan reports in that the two worst injured in the landslide have been hospitalized as fast as possible, that they were stable - the doctors have said their prognosis looked good. He also tells him that Lito’s family had been asking after the redheaded lecturer who’d helped him out of the rubble, and that John Tracy, M.Sci, PgDip, B.Lang Hons, should probably expect a gift basket in the mail quite soon.

John gets quite flustered about that. He’d just been doing his job.

The spaceman's arm was eventually treated, and Scott calls in to ask what actually happened to his arm. It still hurts, a properly bandaged throb just under his elbow, but not like before. The painkilling injection and little bit of morphine they’d given him when they stitched it up had probably helped with that.

Alan’s reports dug up that the landslide had been caused by a water main leaking under the building, and destabilizing the soil. Over time, water can do a lot of damage, washing away vital infrastructure if it’s not been properly reinforced during construction.

As the Chino Roque Theater was a new build, there must have been a mistake in the installation of the pipes during construction.

Someone was getting a big lawsuit heading their way, and Tracy Enterprises will be more than happy to fund the lawyers for the theatre.

As Lady Penelope promised him, they found John a change of clothes and went to the Pagasa Observatory. Penny’s quite sure she’s never seen anything as wholesome as the moment John sees the telescope - his eyes went all shiny, and the smile on his face was massive.

"Lady Penelope, Parker come take a look at the stars!!!” He calls, over his shoulder, with the enthusiasm of a boy half his age, “They’re really beautiful from here!" With such a high-powered lens pointed up at the cosmos, it rivals even his view from Thunderbird Five.

"Indeed, they are." Lady Penelope and Parker both step up to take turns, but John was the one to look through the telescope the most. With all the stealth her years as a secret agent offered her, Lady Penelope took a picture of him.

"Parker, come take a look." She whispers, beckoning her old companion gleefully over. "He looks so happy and innocent in this picture. Wouldn’t it be lovely to see his face like this always?"

"We still have some time before they close,” Parker points out, a sly grin creeping onto his nosey old face. “How h’bout we leave him like this for a little longer?"

"That, Parker.” she smiles, “Is an excellent idea.”

The End

#tag mini bang 2021 #tagminibang2021 #thunderbirds are go #thunderbirds #john tracy #scott tracy #gordon tracy #virgil tracy #alan tracy #Lady Penelope #Parker #tag #my writing

[impossiblelibrary]

Today's rant brought to you by: Queer Eye Japan, can we all just try to be as kind as they try to be?

After watching the Queer Eye Japan super short season, I wanted to google to see the overall reaction to the show, make sure that my western eyes were correct in seeing the care that was given to the culture. Were cultural taboos, other than being outwardly gay, crossed? So I find this article in the top results and other than the perspective, why tho? Tokyoesque.com had an article with a higher reading level, with surface level appreciation but at least better written.

I can't get over this hate article though. Unfounded, dumb, wrong and incorrect. Do not go forward unless you like that blistering kind of anger from me.

But the reasons just get weaker as the article extends: "Hurts the country it set out to save?" Looking for white savior much? They did not go to save Japan, they gave some free shit to like 4-5 people, think smaller.

Their culture guide wasn't gay enough.

You want to suggest any lgbt insta models or celebrities, use your platform to raises some up?

"There is a growing sexless culture in Japan for married and unmarried people, and it is perilous watching Queer Eye present this without any context behind what is driving this behavior."

Sexiness is what the fab 5 embrace, unfortunately and it was probably discussed behind the scenes of how much talking about sex was allowed or polite and the conversation of not having sex is closer to the tip of the tongue rather than the feeling of sexiness. The West is not the ones blasting that information. It is across multiple Japanese printed newspapers and online stories by now and the "context" is still being discussed and debated amongst Japanese. So I don't think any outsiders should be weighing in or "explaining" this phenomenon. We can repeat what we have been told but guessing at the reasons is not our place. The reasons illustrated by the author of the article seem lacking, a take but not the only one, but who am I to speak on that being in a sexual relationship with someone who pulls from that culture?

Kiko begins to lecture Yoko-san on how she “threw away her womanhood” (referring to a Japanese idiom, onna wo suteru) by going makeup-free and wearing drab, shapeless clothes.

The mistranslation by the subtitles fixed by this author was necessary information. But Kiko didn't lecture her on it, it was brought up by Yoko before any of them arrived, that was her theme, that was what she had decided to focus on. Meanwhile, if you watched Jonathan, he understood there was no time to spend on makeup and skincare so provided her a one instrument, 3 points of color on the skin to feel prettier. That and the entire episode being the 5 treating her like a woman on a date, not trying to hook her up, which is what they did in American eps.

"In teaching a Japanese woman, who already struggles to find time for herself, how to make an English recipe, Antoni is making great TV and nothing more."

So Antoni shouldn't have taught her apple pie because it's too exotic for a Japanese woman. (Can you smell the sexism?)

He didn't make an apple pie, altho Yoko did mention her mother made that for her when she was a kid. He made an apple tartine after going to a Japanese bakery who makes that all the time. Then highlighted the apples came from Fuji in true Japanese media fashion. Honey, American television doesn't usually highlight where the ingredients come from. A Japanese producer told him to do that. So all worries handled within the same ep. She got Japanese ingredients, had the recipe shown to her and then made it for her friends in her own house. Did the author actually watch this show or nah?

"beaten over the head with his western self-help logic. “You have to live for yourself,” he says."

The style of build up the 5 went for was confrontational but in a "I'm fighting for you" way. It's hard to describe, but the best I can say is, a person has multiple voices in their head, from parents, siblings, society, and maybe themselves. By being loud and obnoxious, American staples right there, they are adding one more voice. You deserve this, you are amazing, you are worth it. I know this is against most Japanese cultural modesty, but maybe it shouldn't be.

Sarcasm lies ahead:

Apparently: mispronunciation is microaggressions, not just someone who had a sucky school system. Yea okay, They're laughing at the language not at how stumbling these monolinguals are with visiting another country. Mmhm. Japanese don't say I love you and don't touch and that should stay that way instead of maybe, once in awhile, feeling like they can hug. Yeah, let's just ignore Yoko's break down that she had never hugged her lifelong friend after hugging strangers multiple times. Maid cafes are never sexualized in Japan ever, just don't go down that one street in Akihabara where the men are led off by the hand sheepishly blushing. Gag me. And Japanese men love to cry in front of their wives and would never break down once the wife leaves. I have never seen a Japanese movie showcase that move. Grr.

"I identify as many cultures."

So you're a Japanese man when it's convenient for you to get an article published? Are you nationally Japanese or just ethnically or culturally?

Homeland is an inherently racist word?

"After the Bush administration created the Department of Homeland Security after the 9/11 terrorist attacks, a Republican consultant and speechwriter Peggy Noonan urged, “the name Homeland Security grates on a lot of people, understandably. Homeland isn’t really an American word, it’s not something we used to say or say now.”

Yes, let's use a Washington Post article rather than a etymology professor. Yes, the google search results increased after 2001 Homeland Security was used but the word has been around since the 1660s and I've read multiple turn of the century lit on white people returning to their homeland, i.e. the town off the coast they were born in.

"But" is not disagreeing. I think the repeated offender for the author is the not acknowledging the makeover-ees feelings. But, that is how LGBT have decided to deal with the inner voices that invade from society. They are just that, not our own, they are the influence of society, and we can choose, we have to choose, to be influenced by someone, anyone else.

Karamo can't speak about being black when an Asian is speaking about being Asian, even though the Asian gay man was feeling alone. It's called relating bitches, and I'm done with people saying that is redirecting the conversation, it's extending the conversation. That's how we talk, the spotlight is shared, especially when someone's about to cry and doesn't want to be seen as crying, time to turn the spotlight.

The gay monk wasn't good enough, you should have invited the gay politician.

Yeah, causes I'm sure a politician has all the time in the world for a quick stint and cry. They picked a Japanese monk who travels to NY because they had a guest who travels to the West too. Did you want him to stop traveling back and forth? Did you want a pure, ethnic and cultural Japanese gay man who has no ties to the west to talk to this Western educated young man? Seriously?

This is just not how it works in Japan.

Being in a multi-cultural marriage between two rebels, discussions on facets of culture are plenty in my household. Culture should be respected enough to be considered but not held on a pedestal like we should never adjust or throw some things out. LGBT being quiet and private for instance. "Being seen" was Jonathan's advice, and a good one especially for a Japanese gay man that was called feminine since he was a kid. Some gay men can hide, but as Jonathan said, he couldn't hide what he was, he couldn't hide this. So fuck it. Don't hide. It's actually more dangerous for a feminine man to come off as anxious rather than gay and proud. It makes you more of a target if they think you won't fight back. Proud means, Imma throw hands too, bitch.

This is also from the civil rights playbook going back to Black America: never hold a protest or a fight without the cameras, without being seen. LGBT have found the more seen they are, in media, in the streets, the better off we are. When LGBT Americans were being "private" about our lifestyles, we died, a la 1980s. They won't care if you start dying off if they never saw you to begin with.

And hence why I think the author's real anger is from these 5 being seen dancing flamboyantly in Shibuya, in Harajuku, afforded the privilege of doing this safely because of their tourist status, cameras and very low violence rate in Tokyo, loud and obnoxiously. Honestly, they wouldn't have been invited or nominated if they didn't want that brash American-ness coming into their home, just for a taste, at least.

Here's my real anger, my own jealousy: Japan's queer community currently does not have marriage or adoption rights. US does, so we have progressed further. But we are also not that many years from being tied to cow fences with barbed wire, beaten with baseball bats and left for dead overnight. If things are so bad over there, maybe take a few pages from the civil right playbook we took so much time to perfect and produced by the Black Americans who fought first. But so far, I only hear loss of jobs and marriages, which we still have here too. Stop trying to divide us, we are one community, LGBT around the world and we are here to try to help. Take it or leave it, it's not like we're going to go organize your own Pride parade for you.

Rant over? I guess. Is this important enough to be put in the google results along with his. Hell no, anyone with half a mind can see he's reaching more than half the time. And any argument about: this wasn't covered! There are a shit ton of conversations that are not covered in the 45 min they have. They are not a civil rights show, it's a makeover show, doing their best in that direction anyway. Know what it is.

Next blog post, what research I would guess was happening behind the scenes for each of the 5? I'm pretty sure I saw Jonathan doing Japanese style makeup there...

#queer eye #Queer eye Japan #original #rant