#rpm rush

[aletterinthenameofsanity]

RPM OT5 playlist!

You want relationship development? Welcome to my favorite relationship development in the entire Power Rangers series, aka my RPM OT5. Now, this one does not make as much instinctual sense as the SPD OT5 or Casey/RJ or Jayden/Antonio, where the relationship development is the backbone of canon, but writing these five idiots was so satisfying that I wrote the original one-shot in FIVE DAYS and that was my record on length of a one-shot until DECEMBER OF LAST YEAR. (You can also tell because I keep going back and writing extra chapters for this fic because I can't resist playing in its universe.)

@skyland2703 @madhare0512 @khruschevshoe @liveinalovelyway @disastardly @augment-techs

#power rangers #power rangers rpm #rpm ot5 #ziggy grover #summer landsdown #scott truman #dillon #flynn mcallistair #my fics #playlist #scott x summer x flynn x ziggy x dillon #STILL SLAPS #hamilton #sea girls #fall out boy #imagine dragons #onerepublic #the neighbourhood #hedley #panic! at the disco #mika #big time rush #Spotify

[stickers-on-a-laptop]

trying to think of the go-ongers doing actual defensive maneuvers and getting a big ol 404 error in my brain

#the wings? yes. the go-ongers? no #the wings could teach them some but they wouldn't remember #other than maybe renn but sosuke and gunpei have already rushed ahead so #the rpms are go-ing

[seat-safety-switch]

A few years ago, I went back to visit my childhood home. Boredom called, and I decided to drown it out by using some tactically applied high-RPM until I arrived at the location. This house is a lot different now, in both subtle and dramatic ways. Obviously, there's a different family living in it. The lawn is a little bit better kept, after my dad's heroin-chic attempts at re-wilding have been knocked down by a more conventional suburbanite approach. And Coco is gone.

Coco is the neighbour's dog. Or he was. Despite being a small, black puffball, he would bark furiously at me whenever I came out into the yard. Dogs don't live nearly long enough, and presumably at some point between when I left and when I returned, he passed onto the great hereafter, barking at an infinite expanse of angels for perceived injustices against dog-kind. In his place was another small, black puffball.

This new dog, who I was not lucky enough to get the name of, also barked furiously at me upon my approach to the property. Coco's successor was performing the same job, in the same spot, with the same asshole attitude, decades later, totally unaware of his predecessor's impressive body of work on this exact file, or even his presence on this cursed Earth. I started to feel a little woozy at the existential rush that contemplating this produced, and quickly returned to my car, where I purged the nitrous oxide a few times until I felt better.

That dog was lucky, in a lot of ways. He didn't have to think about leaving a legacy for the future, and could just focus on perfecting the art of yipping furiously at my presence. All dogs want the same thing, as long as they're put in that yard, and are small yappy creatures. Maybe humans are the ones that fucked it up, I ruminate as I slot the compressed-air shifter into the next gear in order to finally cease the several-minutes-long burnout that I had been doing in front of his house to really work his barky ass up.

[ladylooch]

When Nico Saved Lucie

A/N: A few requests came in for Lio & Lucie. Which lights my heart right up! Here is the first one "Super Soft Dad Nico!". Although not as soft as it started out to be, I am in love with this. Dad Nico to teenage Lucie is so good.

It’s late. Well after midnight. And it’s dark. So dark. The moon is barely illuminating Lucie’s steps as she walks through the sleeping mountain town. 

There is an eeriness that follows her and clothes the normally safe town with an edge of danger.

She snuck out of the house to meet up with Marco, the guy Nico just about blew his head at Lucie for when he showed up tatted out with an eyebrow ring. Maybe Lucie should have listened to him. She met Marco at a party with his older friends. He spent most of it ignoring her, having his arms around a blonde while taking hits off a blunt. Lucie’s stomach had flip flopped with jealousy. Marco had concerns she was too young for him. She wasn’t. She is grown. But when she got up to straddle his lap, he pushed her off, snapping at her for “acting out” and went back to the blonde. 

So she left. 

And she didn’t tell him. 

She thought that would show him. He would call and text incessantly wondering where she was, but he didn’t. Instead, Lucie realized, very apparently, how much he didn’t care. Tears blur the cobblestones beneath her feet at the realization things with him are coming to an end.

She looks up at the clock tower, seeing it close to stroking 2am. Below it, a man is standing on the corner of a building, leaning against it, one foot up, smoking a cigarette. Only the orange glow tells Lucie he is there. He is otherwise quiet and wearing dark clothing, including a hood over his head. Lucie tilts her head back down, trying to seem focused on where she is going. But something doesn’t feel right. She puts her hand into her sweatshirt pocket, gripping her phone so tightly her palm starts to sweat. She walks another block, then casually flips her hair over her shoulder, taking a look. 

He’s following her.

Fear grips her throat. She pulls her phone out, pressing on her dad’s contact in her phone.

“Where the fuck are you?” Nico growls immediately into the phone.

“Daddy?” Lucie whispers. 

Across town, everything in Nico’s body becomes alert. Something is wrong.

“I’m coming. Where are you?”

“Forest and Pine.”

“What’s going on?” She can hear the keys in his hand, closing her eyes, begging for him to speed for once in his damn life.

“I’m walking home and someone is following me.”

"Keep walking towards home. Stay on the phone with me.” His voice is tight. She can tell he is angry with her even as he’s coming to her rescue. 

“Okay.”

“Talk louder. Make sure they know you’re on the phone with someone. Say louder where you are.”

“Yeah I’m just walking home right now. I’ll be there in five minutes. I’m at Forest and Aspen now.”

“Good, Lu. Keep talking. I’m in the car.” Lucie blinks and fat tears roll down her cheeks. She feels like a little girl- small, incapable, needing her daddy so bad. She chats back at him like nothing is wrong. Loudly talking about what she is going to do when she gets home. “Look back, Lu. Where are they?” Lucie looks, seeing the burning glow of the cigarette closer than before.

“He is closer.”

“I’m almost there.” Lucie can hear the RPMs through the phone. They match the rapidness of her heartbeat in her chest.

“Daddy, please hurry.” Lucie’s teeth begin chattering from fear. 

“You’re going to see me in ten seconds.”

Lucie picks her pace up, knowing just up the hill is her safety. The black Mercedes roars over the top of it, bright light illuminating Lucie’s terrified face and the shadowy figure about to reach her. The man sees the lights and turns abruptly, rushing off into the wooded pines and back down the mountain towards town. But not before Nico got a good look at him. Nico throws the car in park. Lucie rushes to his door, throwing herself into her dad’s arms. She breaks down completely, sobbing so hard Nico’s frame shakes as he holds her.

Raw fear grips Nico’s voice for a moment. He can’t speak to her. How can she keep doing this to him? How is he going to make her understand? Nico stares down the hill at the shadowy figure’s retreating back. He wants to follow that piece of shit. Break every bone in his fucking body for whatever he thought he was going to do to his daughter tonight. Instead, Nico buries his face in Lucie’s hair, smelling her sweet, flowery perfume- a reminder of how young she is despite what she believes.

“I wanna go home.” Lucie chokes out. 

“Okay.” Nico nods, walking with her around the car to the passenger side. He tucks her safely inside, feeling some tension leave his body. He walks around to the other side of the car. They are quiet as Nico flips a U turn, heading back towards home. “Why are you out alone at this time?” He asks, even though he knows. Fucking Marco.

“I snuck out and met up with Marco. He was being awful. So I left. I thought he would… come after me. He didn’t.” 

“Lucie.” Nico can’t help but groan. 

“I know, daddy.”

“No, Luc. I don’t think you do.” Lucie purses her lips as they shake again. More tears fall. “What am I supposed to do with you? I try to protect you with a curfew, you sneak out of the house. I tell you to not spend time with older men and you go after them harder. So how am I supposed to make you understand how dangerous this path is for you? What if I had been asleep, Lucie? What if I wasn’t awake pacing the living room waiting for you to get home?” 

Nico and Lucie both leave that thought hanging in the air with their silence. Eventually, Nico sighs heavily as he pulls the car into the driveway. He turns the car off, expecting Lucie to fly out, slamming the door and stomping to her room like he is the worst. Instead, she turns towards him.

“I might not know a lot. But I don’t think you know how hard it is being your daughter.” Nico freezes like she slapped him. “In this town. Where you’re a God and I’m just me. Half Swiss, Half American, not one of you.” She unclips her seatbelt, wiping at her cheeks defiantly. “I’m a constant disappointment. To you and mama. To this town. But Marco, he doesn’t see me as Nico Hischier’s daughter. He sees me as ME. Lucie.” 

Nico stares back at her, stunned. It has been a long time since he played hockey. A long time, he thought, since people were clamoring for a piece of him. When they moved back to Switzerland, people let them live their life as a family. It didn’t feel as suffocating as it had in America with all he attention. The Swiss people gave them space. But he never thought about what it must have been like for Lucie to assimilate here. She had Lio, but Lio is Swiss. There is no other half.

Slowly, Nico releases his seatbelt, getting out of the car. Lucie follows.

“Come here.” He whispers to her. He wraps his arms around his first born, crushing her into his chest, wanting to absorb all her pain and anger. “Luc, if you’re mad at me, just be mad at me. Don’t put yourself in danger because you’re trying to run from it.” Lucie buries her face deeper into his chest, smearing his shirt with her chunky, black mascara. Nico holds her head there, rubbing his thumb is soothing swipes. It takes ten minutes before words are exchanged.

“So how long am I grounded?” She looks down at the garage floor. Nico considers, reaching for her cheeks and brushing the remaining tears away from her face. The way she looks at him breaks Nico’s heart. He knows Lexi is going to be livid for this. He knows he should consult her too. 

“Depends. Are you still going to see Marco?”

“No.” Lucie shakes her head.

“Then we are square.” 

Lucie stares at him, brown eyes matching his. 

“Mama…”

“I’ll talk to her. Go take a shower and go to bed.” Lucie nods, then heads into the house. She disappears to head upstairs. Nico places his hands on the cool stone of the kitchen island, trying to ground himself after what just happened.

“Daddy?” Lucie’s small voice calls out. Her head reappears outside the wall. Nico looks at her. “Will you tuck me in tonight?” 

“Yep. Text me when you’re ready.” 

“Okay. I love you.” She murmurs. “I knew you would come save me tonight.”

“Always. From anything. I love you, LuLu.” Nico confirms. 

When Lucie disappears again, Nico can’t help but wonder if maybe that’s part of the problem.

#Lio & Lucie

[taperwolf]

A thrift store find that I didn't buy, because it's more esoteric than even I could manage to use, and I'm trying not to accumulate large useless things:

This is a Muntz Stereo-Pak player. This particular model is the home version; Stereo-Pak was the first prerecorded magnetic tape format for car audio, released in 1962, and a precursor to the 8-track tape. Music came in cartridges, inside of which would be a long loop of 4-track tape; on the tape would be two streams of music, with left and right channels for each.

You're meant to slide your tape cartridge up against the magnetic read head inside, guided by the brass grooves on the top. I haven't read anywhere that there were different sizes of cartridges, but the different lines on the face and the lack of hard guides suggests that to me. Once it's in place, one of the levers on the right flips a rubber pinch roller up to pull the tape past the head, playing back the stereo tracks. The other lever is a switch that pops the tape head between its upper and lower position, so you change it to change which tracks are playing.

(There was prerecorded audio for cars before then, because some loons decided to install phonographs. Chrysler's "Highway Hi-Fi" (1956-'59), for example, played special 16⅔ RPM records. For obvious reasons, there were problems with skipping, and the higher-pressure tone arms that tried to alleviate that wore the records out faster.)

The format and the players were developed for Earl "Madman" Muntz, an LA businessman known for an eccentric public persona and oddball marketing campaigns (inspiring such successors as "Go See Cal" Worthington and the "Crazy Eddie" electronics chain in New York). He started out with used car dealerships but his real love was electronics; he started Muntz TV in 1947, and was the first to sell a TV set for less than $100, new. He was a self-taught electrical engineer, and got his TVs to be so cheap through a technique still today called Muntzing. He'd decided that most engineers were designing conservatively, building redundancies and safety margins into their devices, so when his employees presented him with a prototype, he'd go at it with a pair of wire cutters. He'd start just snipping parts out until the thing stopped working — and then tell the engineer, "Well, I guess you have to put that last part back in."

(His TVs were fine in the cities, where big stations had strong signals, but worked quite poorly out in areas where the signals were weak; the parts he'd remove were the ones that boosted performance out there. This wasn't by accident, though; his target market was the city dweller with limited funds, and Muntz was content to let RCA and Zenith and such have the high performance market.)

Anyway, Muntz TV went bankrupt in 1959 after various hardships, and reorganized without "Madman" at the helm. (You may be able to make out the note under the logo on the player that Muntz Stereo is not affiliated with Muntz TV.). Muntz himself was still managing to do well with cars and consumer electronics, so he decided to combine the two with the Stereo-Pak. He had a great deal of success for a while with it, but it was later outcompeted by the 8-track player (which won economically because it used less tape to store the music and had a simpler mechanism, and became hugely popular once Ford started offering the players preinstalled). Muntz ran the company that put commercial recordings on the tapes, and that led to probably his biggest unforseen financial problem with these. See, there'd be the new big radio hit, the new big famous musical group, and he'd rush their album out to all the dealers — and when the new hotness inevitably became yesterday's news, the dealers would send the unsold tapes back and expect to exchange them, straight across, for the next new big hit.

#vintage technology #madman muntz #muntzing #thrift stores #magnetic tape

[steampunkforever]

At its most basic structure gunfire is just minerals (glorified rocks) being thrown really fast. In this aspect, there is very little difference between a specops death squad decked out in NVGs murdering you with suppressed smart-aiming Next Gen battle rifles and some brute named Grug caving in your head with a chunk of boulder. The only thing that separates the two is the advent of flint knapping, the way they style their beards, and the variation of head trauma they administer you in a dark cave located somewhere in the region people used to call "Asia Minor."

Much in this way, jeans are jeans. The cuts, colors, and styling have changed across the years, but in form and function not much differs from the sturdy workwear gold rush prospectors donned before hitting the slopes of Pikes Peak in 1859 and the black skinny jeans worn by starbucks baristas in Denver as the prepare to enter the Frappe mines.

Of course, much like comparing David's Slingshot to Raytheon's latest missile (an activity reserved for the IDF), much has changed since Levi Strauss riveted together his first pair of trousers. Specifically, the world has seen the introduction of stretch fabrics beyond mankind's comprehension, both a boon to emo band frontmen and a curse to the environment.

Those of you who've followed this blog long enough are well aware of my demographic's use of stretchy jeans to rebel against the oppressive bagginess of the 90s and early 00s. As such, I've been thoroughly indoctrinated into the stretch. Though never extruding myself into a pair of skinny jeans, I've been a strong proponent of slim-fits from the moment I was able to escape the bagginess of the past. Is this bagginess in now? Yes, but so were JNCOS for a time so let's not trust the trend cycle with our lives just yet.

The point is, my denim has always needed to be tight. Wearing pants is outright stressful otherwise. But I simultaneously fully understand that stretch fabrics are bad for the environment. The elastics in your jeans poison the environment with each wash, and will hang out in landfills long after the cotton that bound them has returned to the earth. A conundrum to say the least.

I'll fully admit that I came upon the answer to my problem in a flash of pure coincidence, having thrown a couple pairs of cheap straight-leg 100% cotton jeans in my cart fully intending on using them as throwaways for when I didn't need to think about what I looked like but needed something rugged that didn't look like cargo pants. Little did I know that my denim savior rested in overly stiff jeans that looked baggy on me in the fitting room.

See, 100% cotton jeans are the sort that have what we call a "break-in period," like when you buy a new corvette and it makes you wait a second before you can unlock the full RPM range. Not that I can afford a new Corvette, I'm buying store-brand jeans at America's least glamorous retailer, but you get the point. The break in period lets you put some wear and tear in the denim, relaxing it and letting it loosen up, providing a better, if baggier, fit and getting that "comfortable as an old pair of jeans" feel that we lost in the vacuformed denim era championed by bands like Sleeping with Sirens.

So I broke them in. I ignored washing instructions entirely, I rewired old cars in them, I didn't care about them and I showed them that, which in hindsight I realized was probably the best thing I could've done for them. Stiffness softened to structure, the color faded pleasantly, and rather than looking and feeling awkward, the jeans began to conform to my body. Hefting a cast iron intake out from under the hood of a car that shares a birthday with your parents is great for getting denim to fit just right. Highly suggest treating these jeans like you don't care for optimum results.

Of course then comes the tightness. The denim fibers loosen over the break-in process, and which would make them baggier, and these were already straight-leg jeans, a shape not intended for tightness. And I need my jeans tight. The secret to getting a slim fit was also achieved on accident: I once more ignored washing instructions and threw them in the dryer without looking at the tag.

Denim from brands who care about their image is often treated with anti-shrink solutions in order to maintain the general shape of the cut, but my cheap pants did not, and therefore shrunk just the right amount when thrown into the dryer and spun around on the "whatever" setting.

Under this combined abuse, the cotton shrunk where I needed it to, conforming to my curves while retaining structure and ruggedness required of a good pair of jeans. This isn't a new discovery by any means, but personally it was a revelation to find denim that fit snugly without the guilt of microplastic underpinnings.

There really isn't an outtro for this post, a long winded ramble about how I got some jeans to fit, other than some vague point about looking to the old ways for sustainable options to a plastic filled future. I guess it's just nice to find good-looking denim jeans that aren't prestige brands doing their best to make a new corvette look cheap in comparison. That is all.

#the denim essay you wanted

[scary-white]

I love Carrie a lot and i wish that more people undestood that city destruction was result of breakdown and not something that she actually wanted

I feel the same way-- Though I'm not sure how one can read the book and not realize that Carrie's rampage was neither meditated nor rational to her. She was having a panic attack/dissociative episode from the second she opened her eyes and saw the blood.

"and her thought was coloured a ghastly purple with her revulsion and her shame... In a flickering kaleidoscope of images she saw the blood running thickly down her naked thighs, heard the constant bearing of the shower on the tiles, felt the soft patter of tampons against her skin as voices exhorted her to 'plug it UP' tastes the plump fulsome bitterness of horror." (Page 227)

"And suddenly it broke. The horrible realization of how badly she had been cheated came over her, and a horrible soundless cry tried to escape her." (Page 228)

"Her traitor mind had slowed time to a crawl; as if God had switched the whole scene from 78 rpm to 33. Even the laughter slowed to a slow sinister rumble." (Page 228)

She didn't even plan to kill anyone when she went to set off the sprinklers:

"Turn on the sprinkler system and close all the doors. Lock them on and let them see her looking in, watching and laughing while the shower ruined their hairdos and took all the shine off their shoes. Her only regret was that it couldn't be blood." (Page 232)

When the first person is electrocuted, she thinks: "He looked funny. She began to laugh. By Christ, let them all look funny."

Sinister, yes, but not the thoughts of a sane, cognizant woman.

When Rhonda accidentally catches her dress on fire, that is when she goes over the edge. Literally, it says it right there: "It might have been at that moment that Carrie went over the edge." (Page 234) (Might here implying that she went over the edge even earlier)

Immediately after this line, King follows it with her description: "Her face was livid, but full red fever spots stood on each cheek. Her head throbbed thickly, and conscious thought was lost."

I could write more, but my sister is rushing me to get out the door so we can go to dinner. Point is, Carrie had completely snapped from the moment of the prank. She didn't know what she was doing, and she was driven by an onslaught of horrible emotions only amplifying her power and dimming her control. I've said it before and I'll probably say it many times again, but Carrie White is not a slasher, nor is she anywhere near the category! She was barely functioning and aware during the prom destruction, can anyone really read the rest and think she was calculated in her murder? She's literally described at one point as laughing while tears ran down her face and she tried in vain to wipe the blood off her hands. (An illusion to Lady Macbeth, who had also gone fully insane by the time she started seeing the "spot")

I love insane murderous women! I love angels of vengeance and wrath! Carrie White might have committed atrocities (and she girl bossed pussy SLAYED while commiting them) but people would do damn well to understand the circumstances surrounding them and know that she wasn't even in control.

Also, here is a screenshot from the original script of Carrie (2013). A script that drew very heavily from the novel before it was scrapped by Pierce and the studio for a more 1976-esque remake.

#asks #carrie the novel #carrie stephen king #carrie white #carrie #carrie the musical #carrie 2002 #carrie 2013 #carrie 1976 #carrie analysis

[perhaps-in-anotherdream]

[CN] Victor’s Food Blogging Date (Eng Translation)

⌚Warning⌚ This post contains detailed spoilers for a date, 吃播之约 , that is yet to be released in the global server! ♡

[Translation Under The Cut]

—

For the sake of the consistency: The karma was announced on January 23.

Since it takes forever to collect the karma shards, the date was released on 30th April (according to my time zone LOL). And, it’s scheduled before “Heart’s Content Date”, though the content of the date is likely from even earlier time phase~ :>

Link to the video, if you wish to follow along (recommend doing it as always):  ♡ 

—

✧ [SECTION 1] ✧

After getting off work on Friday, I walk out of the office building in brisk steps and soon catch sight of that familiar car.

As soon as I get in the car, I impatiently look at the person sitting in the driver’s seat.

MC: Victor, I have a piece of good news and bad news.

Victor pauses slightly. Then, he habitually pushes the handbrake and steps on the accelerator.

Victor: Let’s hear the good news first.

MC: The good news is––

MC: The pet show we produced aired this week, and it has topped the charts! With two times more rpm in ten thousand clips!

MC: For these past few days, words related to the show have continuously been roaming around in the hot search~

Hearing my tone filled with pride, Victor tugs at the corners of his lips.

Victor: It appears that a certain someone’s recent all-nighters and overtimes haven’t gone in vain.

Victor: And what’s the bad news?

I heave a sigh, my voice trailing off.

MC: In order to coincide with the main show, we have arranged for some of the show’s “celebrity pets” to have a daily food-blogging livestream.

MC: But just now, a guest who was supposed to be on the show tomorrow told me that she had to leave.

MC: To ensure the livestream continues without a hitch, she wants me to go to her house tomorrow.

Victor’s index finger lightly clicks on the steering wheel, wearing an expression of clear understanding.

Victor: So, we have no other choice but to cancel tomorrow’s big feast at Souvenir.

Victor: For a certain someone who’s been clamoring on about a big feast the entire week, it’s indeed a piece of bad news.

Not in the mood to retort his teasing, I can only wave regretfully in my heart at the distant great feast.

MC: Moreover, you’re going on a business trip the day after tomorrow. You won’t be back for a week...

I sigh long and hard as I watch the dense evening rush hour traffic.

MC: We only have one day left, and it was supposed to be our weekend date tomorrow. But now, it will only be hogged by work.

Victor: How long will this food-blogging livestream take?

Victor looks at me in the rear-view mirror and sees the corners of my lips almost drooping to the ground. After a few moments of silence, he suddenly speaks.

MC: It will take about two hours. What’s the matter?

Victor: Text me the address of that guest. I’ll take you there tomorrow.

I look at Victor with some puzzlement, catching the tinge of a smile within his eyes.

Victor: You’re not the only one who wants to spend the weekend together.

–

┈┈ ◍♡◍ ┈┈┈ ◍♡◍ ┈┈

–

✧ [SECTION 2] ✧

At two o’clock on Saturday afternoon, Victor and I arrive at the guest’s address. The tranquil sunlight descends on the apartment buildings, making everything appear gentle and peaceful.

I unlock the door with the spare key the guest has given me, while looking at the bag in Victor’s hand.

MC: What’s in it?

Victor: Some snacks for the dog.

Victor: I just happened to pass by a pet store on the way to pick you up and bought them conveniently.

I still want to get to the heart of the matter. But the second I push the door open, I see the pupils of Victor’s eyes contracting violently.

I follow his line of sight, my eyes widening as well––

The bright living room is in a complete disorder, and the floor is splattered with a dazzling red, trailing the striking traces as they expand over large swathes.

The stool next to the coffee table is slanted unsteadily, and the cushions on the sofa have also fallen to the ground. Two or three bowls and utensils lie upside down on the floor, with a small amount of flesh and bone scattered beside them.

I stare in a daze coming to terms with the mess before us. After quite a while, I suddenly think of something.

MC: Little Tornado...!

—

[Note]: MC addresses the puppy as “小龙卷 - (xiǎo lóng juǎn). The phrase “龙卷” has multiple meanings - waterspout, tornado, twister. I thought “Tornado” would be the most suitable name given its characteristics HAHA~

—

I trot to the kitchen, the unease in my heart growing more and more. Just as I rush to the door, the scene before me instantly leaves me stumped for words––

In the middle of the scattered kitchen utensils, a chubby pug is lying motionless on the floor, enveloped in a hideous red all over.

Victor also rushes over, and I scramble to fish out my phone.

MC: Qu-quickly, let’s call the police!

Victor: Hold on a minute.

Knitting his brows in a slight frown, Victor steps forward and reaches out, stretching ahead his hand in front of Little Tornado’s nose. 

As I watch his back, I feel my heart clenching a little.

MC: It... how is it?

Victor: ...

Victor: ...very well.

Victor’s gaze falls back on my face, the emotions surging in his eyes having already melted into serenity.

He pokes Little Tornado’s head. Then, he wipes a dab of red from its body with his index finger, twitching it lightly between his fingers.

Victor: It’s covered with dragon fruit stains.

MC: ...

I cast my gaze towards Little Tornado, sizing it up more calmly and carefully––

Its nostrils quiver faintly, and its round and bulging underbelly is heaving up and down incessantly.

It takes us about twenty minutes to clean up the scene and put things in order.

MC: I never thought that it’d actually “play dead” to get away with eating a dragon fruit on the sly from the kitchen!

Little Tornado: Woo...

I force Little Tornado into a corner. Its small, crumpled face rests on the floor, and it looks extremely wronged.

Victor, who’s washing the dishes, takes a quick glimpse at it and then speedily turns his head back.

Victor: It likes to hide after getting itself into trouble. In this aspect, it actually resembles a certain someone very much.

Ignoring my dissatisfied expression, he puts the bowls and utensils in order into the kitchen cabinet. Then, he turns around and looks at me.

Victor: What are you planning to do now? Re-prepare the food for food blogging?

I look up, and my eyes happen to fall on the clock behind him. There are only less than forty-five minutes before the livestream, and I can’t help but frown in some distress.

MC: What should be the best thing to do? It has eaten almost all of the raw meat and bone that were initially prepared...

After listening to what I said, Victor contemplates for a moment, then he opens the refrigerator on the side.

His eyes browse back and forth between the different compartments. Finally, he takes some ingredients out of the refrigerator and sets them on the table in an orderly fashion.

Meeting my inquisitive gaze, he opens his mouth unhurriedly.

Victor: The ingredients in the refrigerator, plus the snacks in the bag, are sufficient to make a “cake” for it to eat.

Victor: If we start now, you should be able to make it almost in time for the livestream.

Victor supports his hands on the kitchen countertop and looks straight into my eyes.

Victor: It’s just my proposal, though.

Victor: This is your show, so the decision rests with you.

I gaze into his serene eyes. And inconceivably, the worries in my heart gradually dissipate without even me realizing it.

MC: This proposal comes from the manager of Souvenir. Of course, it’s a great idea~

MC: Let’s get started right now!

I walk up to his side. As my gaze sweeps over those ingredients, I’m instantly filled with a rejuvenated sense of confidence and enthusiasm.

Inadvertently, I catch a glimpse of that bag Victor has brought along. It appears to be overstuffed.

MC: But why did you buy so many snacks for the dog?

With that said, I reach out and try to look through the bag, but am stopped by Victor.

Victor: And let someone eat them again?

His gaze sweeps over Little Tornado, then lands back on me.

Victor: After all, we have more than one glutton here.

I feel choked for a moment by the connotation of these words. The corners of Victor’s lips, however, lift in a soft arc, and he taps his finger on my forehead.

Victor: All right, don’t just stand there in a silly daze. Come over and help.

–

┈┈ ◍♡◍ ┈┈┈ ◍♡◍ ┈┈

–

✧ [SECTION 3] ✧

Unexpectedly, putting the idea of making a dog cake into practice is much more complicated than we thought.

Along with the time for the livestream unceasingly drawing nearer, my emotions also grow even more restless.

Victor: Hold on.

As I fail to separate the yolk from the white once again, Victor tugs me from behind.

His warm breath descends on the nape of my neck. He unties the somewhat loose knots of my apron for me and ties them back again.

Victor: Take it easy. Why are you so nervous?

Victor: As I said, we still have time.

His baritone voice lands on my ears. I inhale a deep breath, nodding heavily.

MC: I have Souvenir’s manager safeguarding me. I’m sure I’ll get it done without a hitch!

Reminiscent of a snuggly embrace, the pleasant and warm sunlight wraps around us tightly, reflecting the cozy atmosphere of the room.

After this brief interlude, our cake-making process gradually becomes smoother and smoother.

Looking at the cake that has slowly started to take shape, I suddenly remember something, and a smile creeps up on my face.

Victor: What’s so funny?

MC: I just suddenly thought of the last time you made a cake. You made the cake with such precision, but Pudding messed up the whole thing.

Thinking of the incident that just took place, I open my mouth thoughtfully.

MC: It seems that dogs and cats are different after all.

MC: I remember Pudding was still leaping and frisking about after causing trouble, but Little Tornado chose to “play dead” with a guilty conscience...

MC: I guess dogs are indeed a bit smarter than kittens, huh?

As I’m soliloquizing, Victor seems to be wanting to say something. But the next second, I hear a muffled sound of something falling on the floor behind me.

MC: ...Little Tornado!

I look at the instigator of the incident. Little Tornado, who has been reaching its claws towards the potatoes, shudders, and retreats half a step.

Just as I’m about to chase after it, a slender figure rushes ahead of me.

“Click.”

With a crisp closing of the door, Little Tornado is mercilessly shut out of the kitchen.

Victor: Let it wait outside on its own for a while. We will open the door again when the cake is ready.

Victor walks back to my side and helps me to roll up my fallen sleeves, and speaks with an unchanged expression on his face.

Victor: It appears it’s not much smarter than Pudding after all.

I freeze for half a second. Then it dawns on me that he is replying to what I said earlier, and I can’t help but laugh out loud.

MC: Pfft. That’s true, though. After all, Pudding is the smartest kitten in the entire world!

Seeing Victor being so protective of his “own child” like this, my heart suddenly stirs up the idea of teasing him, and I bring my face in front of him consequently.

MC: But why don’t you usually praise him more to his face?

MC: Although occasionally mischievous, overall, Pudding is still an obedient, well-behaved kid. 

As I say this with dead seriousness, Victor gives me a look and reaches out to squeeze my face.

Victor: Aren’t you usually the one who “plays the role of a hero” in front of him?

Without Little Tornado disturbing us, Victor and I let our hands and feet relax even more in the kitchen.

Thanks to our tacit understanding and rapport, the cake is soon only left to be decorated.

Success appears to be right under our noses. But as soon as I take the cookies out of the oven, I find them toasted to a charred black, and the smell of burning pervades the air.

MC: ...I clearly baked following the instructions word for word as it says online.

I lower my head somewhat in despair when someone gently taps on the top of my head.

Victor: Every oven has its own temperament.

Victor: Oven’s temperature varies from brand to brand and model to model.

Victor looks at the oven. After a moment’s reflection, he speaks again.

Victor: Set it to 130-160°C, lower the temperature and give it a try again.

MC: ...will we be able to succeed this time?

Hearing my cautious and solemn question, Victor purses his lips, revealing a faint smile.

Victor: We will.

His tone is calm and tranquil, but it carries an unquestionable certainty. It’s as though as long as he says something will be a success, it will definitely  be a success.

Surrounded by the pale, golden light, everything appears tranquil and warm. Looking at the person next to me, I can’t help the upward curve that steals across the corners of my lips.

Victor: What’s with the silly smile again?

MC: Victor, have I ever told you how great  it is to have you?

Tiny specks of soft light and shadow flood the pupils of that pair of serene eyes, and he gently nudges the tip of my nose.

Victor: Dummy. You’ve told me that; a very long time ago.

Just as Victor said, we bake the perfect cookies after another attempt.

I take the pastry bag and add small flowers to the cake. While I’m doing this, a few strands of my hair fall loose from the side of my ear.

Just as I’m thinking of pausing in my motion and tying up my hair, a pair of hands are one step ahead of me.

MC: ...!

Victor: Don’t flail about. Give me the rubber band.

The calming woody fragrance leaps into my breath, causing my heartbeat to unconsciously accelerate a little.

I hand the rubber band tied around my wrist to Victor, who stands behind me, gathering up my hair with a gentle force.

Victor: Why are you in a daze?

Victor: We are only one last step away from the “success” you talked about. Concentrate on that.

At his reminder, I return to my senses and look back at the cake before me, resuming my actions.

It’s not until I finish carving the last one of the tiny flowers do I heave long a sigh of relief.

MC: Success!

I turn my head around jubilantly. Suddenly thinking of something, I wink slyly at Victor.

MC: Cough, cough. May I ask the manager of Souvenir to comment on how the cake has turned out this time?

Victor: Are you sure you want to hear my evaluation?

MC: ...can you give a subjective evaluation?

Seeing that my imposing manner has suddenly receded for the most part, Victor releases a soft laugh, and it makes its way into my heart as clearly as a plucked violin string.

Victor: Even if I were to give the most objective evaluation, my answer would be the same.

Victor: Very nice.

–

┈┈ ◍♡◍ ┈┈┈ ◍♡◍ ┈┈

–

✧ [SECTION 4] ✧

As the cake is ready, it happens to be the time for the livestream as well.

At my request, Victor sits on the sofa behind the tripod and enters the livestream using his phone, helping to examine the live feed.

I press the start button of the livestream. After greeting the audience, I turn around to find the show’s protagonist, Little Tornado, only to find it lying on the rug and sleeping soundly.

MC: Little Tornado? Little—Tor—nado——

I call out several times in a row, but it doesn’t respond.

Thereupon, being left with no better option, I use the trump card–– picking up the cake, I bring it up to its nose.

Little Tornado: Woof!

Little Tornado’s eyes widen for a second, and the audience in the livestream room shoots out a series of “HAHAHAHA” one after another.

The food blogging livestream pulls open its curtain in a cheerful and lighthearted atmosphere. Little Tornado lives up to the expectations with its own innovation, “Tornado’s steamed rice method,” and sweeps clean all the food, stunning the entire audience.

Seeing that its face is covered with food residues, I casually look at Victor. Tacitly understanding what I meant, Victor draws out a tissue paper and hands it over to me.

However, when I glance at the livestream screen again, I find that there are way more pop-ups all of a sudden.

I, Deja, am in the Northeast: “IS THERE A GUY?? Is the beautiful sister actually not single? ∑(っ´ﾟД ﾟ` ;)っ How can you stick close to a man?”

General Manager of Spicy Sticks: “That beautiful hand with such sharp joints! MAY I!!”

Lamb kebabs are pork ribs: “KNEELING AND BEGGING FOR THE HANDSOME GUY TO SHOW HIS FACE!”

MC: Hold on... what are they talking about?

As I watch the pop-ups constantly drift by, my eyes widen in bafflement.

“What’s the relationship between the little sister and him!”

“TELL US THE DETAILS, TELL US THE DETAILS—”

Only now do I realize that it was Victor’s hand just now that entered the lens, prompting the unceasing stream of pop-ups to pour in.

I didn’t realize that every one of the netizens seemed to be holding a magnifying glass, continuously capturing even the tiniest of details.

MC: Ahem, don’t make random speculations. The star of today’s show is Little Tornado!

MC: Everyone, let’s give more attention to it~

I explain in a bit of a flurry. Little Tornado is still wearing that extremely wronged expression from earlier, seemingly unaware that it’s been robbed of its thunder.

I find some light snacks and put them in front of it. Little Tornado’s eyes instantly light up, and its “thunderous” eating style quickly draws back the attention of the audience.

I immediately feel relieved, although I can’t help but glance at Victor sitting across from me.

Behind the camera lens, he is still looking down at his phone. However, a soft curvature graces the corners of his tightly pursed lips.

Seeing that there are only five minutes left on the livestream, I smile as I make my concluding remarks to the camera.

MC: The segments for today’s livestream are coming to an end. Thank you, everyone, for another beautiful feast with Little Tornado.

MC: See you all next week at the same time~

With that said, I put away Little Tornado’s tableware. But when I get up, I trip over its foot as it’s been scurrying around.

My body lunges forward uncontrollably. The next thing I know, a pair of hands catch me just in time.

A familiar scent embraces me, and I raise my head to see Victor’s mouth opening and closing a few times.

My heartbeat shoots up immediately, deafening. At such a nose-to-nose distance that can be collapsed with a simple breath, I can clearly make out the contours of his face.

Victor: “Dummy.”

MC: ...

As I stand still, I sweep my gaze over the screen out of the corner of my eyes— on the screen, it shows that a man attired in Western-style suit-pants is holding me tightly in his arms.

However, because of his height being too tall, the camera only captures the part of him below the neck region.

I heave a sigh of relief. However, I feel the hand around my waist pressing me slightly harder. Following this, Victor leads me to a corner that is a blind spot on the camera.

I pat my chest lightly, my heart pounding uncontrollably. Watching that Little Tornado is eating with gusto directly in front of the camera, I can’t help mumbling in a low voice as I divert the subject.

MC: Seeing it eating so happily, I seem to be a little hungry too...

Victor: Yup, so hungry that you can’t even walk steadily.

Knowing that he is just teasing me for my clumsiness, I prod him in the chest with indignation.

Victor: Your food is ready to be served.

Victor speaks in a voice that only the two of us can hear. Seeing the confusion written on my face, he pulls me even more tightly to himself.

Victor: Didn’t a certain someone say that she’s been looking forward to the big feast the entire week?

Victor: Souvenir is open as usual tonight.

The scorching breaths cascading from his lips crash against my auricles. Looking into his smiling eyes, I’m slightly taken aback and remember that especially bulging bag he’s brought along.

MC: The snacks you brought me... you mean that’s  tonight’s big dinner?

Victor: Not too slow-witted, after all.

Victor: However, “There’s no such thing as a free dinner in this world.”

Standing in the afterglow of the setting sun, the lights stirring within Victor’s eyes also reflect a crystalline glow. He looks at my pleasantly surprised face, the corners of his lips lightly hooking up in a smile.

Victor: I haven’t yet charged my bill for today.

He leans down, the exquisite scent of his body wrapping me within instantly.

The sweetness of his breath permeates the air as it ferments. I don’t know how long has passed before his whispers sound in my ears once again.

Victor: As for the rest, I’ll make it up when I return from my business trip next week.

On the other side, the “quick glimpse” on the camera just now causes the livestream room to blow up again.

On the screen, which has never been turned off, the pink hearts sent by the audience explode one after another––

Along with the messages, “May the two of you live a long and happy life together. Wishing you two eternal love!” filling the entire screen.

—

[Note]: The messages audience was sending is “祝百年好合, 长长久久!” (zhù bǎi nián hǎo hé, cháng cháng jiǔ jiǔ). This is what one says in Chinese when they’re congratulating or blessing a married couple/newlyweds~ 🥺💘

–

[Personal Thoughts]: The fact that this man wasn’t home the whole morning LOL and cooked at Souvenir to keep it a surprise and when MC asks he’s like yeah just some snacks I picked up before getting you hnnngnnn 🥺 Also MC’s “how great it is to have you”  and the LIVESTREAM KISS!! 💘💘

—

#yet another date of Victor x MC calling out all the single people in every existent and non-existent languages :> #if a simple “side-gig” date can be THIS wholesome—— BLESS THE WRITERS RESPONSIBLE FOR VICTOR CONTENTS IS ALL I HAVE TO SAY. #also those names though lololol I almost died laughing #mlqc victor #mlqc li zeyan #mlqc cn #mlqc spoilers #mr love victor #mlqc #mr love queen's choice #love and producer #恋与制作人 #李泽言 #mlqc translations

[lumothespadesman]

I didnt see anyone talking about how great Bomper is, so here I am feeding the bare lands

I went into go-onger AFTER I finished RPM and ngl I did not think the Dr. K figure is a bunny robot so I was like "woah this is interesting"

But. God. GOD. I FUCKING LOVE BOMPER. The episode where he ran away cause he thought Sosuke and Renn were shittalking him made me love him even more than I already did

The scene where Saki and Renn comforted him made me tear up . You mean to tell me Bomper made Sakis gophone charm cause she felt down???? Hes such a great friend?? Oh my god???

And this image right here. This takes it all. Bomper, who cant really fight at all rushes in to save the team, knows exactly where the Uguts are, AND SHOOTS THEM OFF. FUCKING SNIPER IM TELLING YOU. HOLY SHIT.

Bomper is as much of a hardworker as anyone else, especially in the final episodes when he figured out how the rest of the team disappeared. AND HES JUSTRAFGHGHHHHH

ANYWAYS, I know he barely got the spotlight besides that one episode, but Bomper mvp and supremacy ok ty bye

#go onger #go-onger #engine sentai go onger #super sentai #tokusatsu

[justjacob19]

Oh fuck me im ranting about power rangers again

I just watched cosmic fury and MAN was it a disappointment, I heard by way of the twitter machine netflix wanted to help make it 20 episodes but due to hasbro meddling it was changed to 10. In doing so it made the whole season feel rushed, things happen so quickly with a lot of unanswered questions, most of it is zord footage and overall I wish we got a better supposed "finale" to this era of the show

Because of spoilers im not going to bother with really talking about it beyond these general thoughts but I will say that its impressive how we had two great seasons beforehand and this finale one is a sad reflection on the current state of the show, only kind of caring for nostalgia purposes and supposed name brand but outside of that its almost worse than disney's treatment, at least there WAS toys and not just a few shitty megazord repaints and cheap morphers.

If this is the end of the TV show overall, then we ended on a whimper not a bang. But if this is a RPM to Samurai kinda transition era where its in limbo for a bit but ready to return the same way in 2025 with that neflix reboot then by all means, take as much time as you need with hopefully less corporate meddling.

I dont know if the reboot will be something like PR riverdale and thus a retelling of MMPR, if will continue with the sentai adapting or if its a 100 percent original idea. I just hope in the process we dont loose all the shit we loved about the franchise in the first place.

#power rangers #PR #Power Rangers Cosmic Fury #Cosmic Fury #Netflix

[hirocimacruiser]

Impul 932S based on the Z32 300ZX 2by2

Translation of article first pic from RevSpeed issue number 1.

IMPUL 932S FAIRLADY Z 300ZX 2by2

Photos/Tatsuo Sakurai Text/Hitoshi Sezai

Beautifully shape the silhouette of a normal car. This Impul 932S perfectly embodies the important elements of a complete tune. Bring your own Z and order your favorite tune-up kit. That's the system in this case. What kind of running are you interested in?

The concept is "street + α"

As expected, the fastest man in Japan, “Kazuyoshi Hoshino,” produced it. Cool anyway. A body with a full aero kit usually has different tastes, but most people must have the same impression about this Impul 932S. However, you may feel a little resistance to the rear wing, which is on par with the F40, but this is also completely invisible when viewed from directly behind. The style seen from the back is too flashy, and it's frustrating, but as long as you're in the same lane, it'll overlap with the body, so you can rest assured.

In addition to the rear spoiler, there are four body parts: a rear bumper kit, a side step kit, and a front bumper kit. It's good that it hasn't collapsed. The fit is so high that it makes you think it's an original body. I was worried that there would be a lot of unnecessary lines around the front bumper if it was normal, but with this part, all of them have been eliminated and put together neatly. The difference between a complete car and a tuning car is the difference in product characteristics. Just like the manufacturer's off-line model, you should be able to get along with it without worry.

Naturally, the interior is also original, and the leather seats remain normal. The degree of perfection is still high enough, so the pedals, steering, etc. have been changed to Impul originals. Other than that, there is no noticeable difference. A 300km/h full-scale meter has been adopted for the meter, which matches the potential increase, but it is also so neat that it can be mistaken for normal.

The concept of the Impul 932S is “street + α”. Circuit champ, Japan's fastest man's theme is street priority. Rather than blazingly fast on the circuit, it's faster than anything else as a regular foot and as a means of transportation. The image of the car that Hoshino actually wants must be included in the 932S.

Smooth acceleration up to 200km/h, driving normally on normal roads. An engine tuned according to such a specific concept is very rational. The base is VG30DET, and only the computer has been modified. The engine remains normal, the boost is increased to 0.9 to 0.95, and the limiters are cut to bring out the full potential of the VG30DET. This alone increases power by 70ps, and power is 350ps.

has been upgraded. Attraction that users can choose

The engine is completely normal. Even the muffler shouldn't have been touched, but you can definitely feel the power increase. Because the sound is so natural, if you open the throttle as usual, the torque will suddenly appear from slightly over 2500 rpm. Beyond 3000 rpm, it shows acceleration that makes you forget that it is an AT.

It shifts to a sharp dash system. If you continue to step on the throttle, the range from 4000 to 6000 rpm will pass in an instant, and at the same time your back will be pressed against the seat back with intense force. In this rev range, it shows a sharp boost that is comparable to any NA, and the boost-up effect is maximized. An engine with good materials is compressed by a boost of nearly 1 bar and it is a momentum that rushes up. The pick-up is also excellent, and the running on winding roads is truly unbeatable.

Power peaks at just over 6500 rpm, and the power curve is gentle at the top end. However, the good matching with AT could be realized only if there was a sense of torque in the low and medium speed range. It can be said that not being overly constrained by peak power has, on the contrary, improved acceleration performance without sacrificing everyday performance.

The suspension uses original parts for all shock absorbers, coil springs, and stabilizers. Tires are a combination of Impul original wheels and Potenza RE11. 235/45ZR17 front and rear 255/40ZR17 is a very wide setting. The appearance is completely along the line of the wheel arch, and the fit is extremely high. The height of the car has been lowered a lot, so the power is unparalleled.

However, when it comes to running, it feels a bit oversized in terms of ride comfort and sweet steering feel, but this also becomes visibly thinner as the speed range increases. In other words, it can be said that it is perfect if the theme is only running in the high speed range rather than everyday life, and it demonstrates its power only when it is at full power.

According to Impul's comments, the 16-inch model is close to the concept, but the 17-inch model is a challenge to the possibilities in the sense of pursuing performance. It has already been confirmed that 16 inches is the best in terms of everyday use as the concept. Therefore, arrange the tire size

Since the attractiveness changes greatly depending on the user, it would be good for the user to make a choice. The 932S, which combines many possibilities and charms, is sure to be accepted by millions of users, and it feels like Kazuyoshi Hoshino's proud product.

PIC CAPTIONS

The difference from normal is the 300km/h full scale speedometer and Impul stering wheel

There are two types of wheels, Impul R1 and Impul R-70I. The photo is R1.

It's nice to know that just replacing the computer will change the way you drive.

A rear wing that greatly enhances the appearance of the Impul 932S.

The aero parts show a very beautiful finish

#impul #Z32 #z32 300zx #300ZX #Impul 932S #JDM

[silverslipstream]

Five Red Lights

The sun seems to crack the Adelaide Street Circuit right open, until the ground is nothing but a blur of heat-hazed tarmac, lurid sponsor decals and the endless blue-white dome of an Australian summer sky. It's thirty-four degrees in the shade. Yet, somehow, this searing heat can't hold a candle to the frisson of excitement that seems to set the very breeze alight. Confetti drifts from the grandstands; the sound of horns circles almost lazily over the baying crowds.

On the grid, the final preparations are underway. The cars glisten and shimmer, each one surrounded by crews of engineers and technicians. Scantily-glad 'grid girls' stand in front of the cars, cheering and waving to the crowds. Each one carries a placard with their respective driver's name, nationality and starting position emblazoned on it.

As the countdown to lights out continues, the team personnel scramble off the tarmac, leaving only the drivers and their machines. Twenty-six of the finest racing drivers on the planet, bodies and minds honed to the perfection of a singular purpose. It takes a special kind of person to be able to strap themselves into an F1 car without fear. You have to be almost insane in your self-belief, yet fighter pilot-like in your calculations, your mentality.

Most of all, you can't think about it for a second. Nobody in their right mind would strap themselves to a 200-mile-per-hour carbon-fibre tub and battle twenty-five other cars, inches from death every second of every minute.

It's a Roman gladiatorial battle in technicolour, and Adelaide is its Colosseum.

The excitement reaches a fever pitch. A brilliant scarlet light blinks on, the first of five. By now, every car's engine is screaming at 14,000 rpm, a crescendo of noise and heat and flame eighteen thousand horsepower in the making.

A second light blinks on. Gloves tighten around steering wheels and pistons pump fiercely, unburnt fuel hissing and popping in a rush of flame.

Third light. The commentators' excited chatter has given way to bated breath. Even the team radio sets are silent. Every synapse of the drivers' brains is focused on those lights, waiting for all five to glow - then extinguish.

Fourth light. The hairs on the ends of 120,000 spectators, and millions watching around the globe stand on end in anticipation. Sixteen races, fifteen countries, love, hatred, speed, glory: it all comes down to this.

Fifth light. On the grid, off the grid: every heart under the Adelaide sun beats as one.

Then the lights are are out, and with a shrill roar, the cars launch off the line, hurtling towards Turn 1. It's a race that will break hearts, pop champagne corks and decide destinies.

#writeblr #writers community #my writing #f1 story #f1 fic #formula 1 #f1 #just a little drabble I wrote listening to the Rush soundtrack #decided to write a little 1990s-era championship finale #man it's intense #enjoy!

[savage-kult-of-gorthaur]

ROSY-CHEEKED KING OF THE BLUES.

PIC INFO: Spotlight on the late, great B.B. King (1925-2015), American blues guitarist/vocalist/singer-songwriter and all around legendary bluesman, artwork by William Stout for his "Legends of the Blues" (2013) portrait series.

MINI-BIO: "Riley B. King was born on September 16, 1925 in Itta Bena, Mississippi. After his father left the family, Riley grew up in his mother’s and grandmother’s homes. He worked as a sharecropper and sang gospel, then moved to Indianola, Mississippi, in 1943. Country and gospel were his first influences, followed by the music of T-Bone Walker, Lonnie Johnson, Charlie Christian and Django Reinhardt. In 1946, he studied guitar for ten months in Memphis under his cousin, bluesman Bukka White. After months of hardship, Riley returned to Indianola.

King came back to Memphis in 1948, working at radio station WDIA as a singer and disc jockey, gaining the nickname “Beale Street Blues Boy,” (hence, “B.B.”; not “B. B.”, by the way). Upon first hearing T-Bone Walker, he promptly purchased an electric guitar. King cut tracks for Bullet, then began recording for RPM with (famed Elvis Presley) producer Sam Phillips. King’s first R&B #1 was Lowell Fulson’s “Three O’Clock Blues” (1951).

In the mid-1950s, while B.B. was performing at an Arkansas dance, a kerosene stove got knocked over during a fight, setting the place ablaze. B.B. raced outdoors with the crowd. Realizing he had left his beloved $30 acoustic guitar inside, he rushed back in to retrieve it, narrowly escaping death. After finding out the brawl had been over a woman named Lucille, he named his guitar “Lucille” as a reminder never to be so crazy as to fight over a woman. Since then, each of his Gibson guitars has been named Lucille. The original Lucille was stolen from his car’s trunk in Brooklyn. He offered a $20,000 reward but no one ever came forward. He eventually had an open offer of $100,000 for the return of that beloved guitar."

-- WILLIAM STOUT, slightly revised B.B. bio from WS's "Legends of the Blues" book

Sources: www.comicsgrinder.com/2013/06/14/review-legends-of-the-blues-by-william-stout and www.williamstout.com/news/journal/2015/05/15/b-b-king-1925-2015.

#B.B.King #LegendsoftheBluesPortraits #LegendsoftheBlues #Portraits #Blues #LegendsoftheBlues2013 #RileyB.King #LegendsoftheBluesbook #Illustration #VintageStyle #WilliamStout #1950s #Guitarist #Vocalist #AmericanStyle #Lucille #Bluesman #Bluesguitar #Bluesmusic #Electricblues #1960s

[oceangirl24]

New Chapter- Saudade: Preparation

Shawn oversees the household while Jon is in the hospital. Audrey gives him instructions that leave him questioning her state of mind. Jon's Harley comes out of retirement much to Julia's fear.

Jon's bike was a 1991 Harley Davidson Heritage Softail Classic Custom that was now a collector's piece. It had an air-cooled, four-stroke, 1337cc, 45° V-Twin power plant engine paired with a five-speed manual transmission that could produce 58 horsepower at 5000 rpm.

This Harley came standard with studded-leather saddlebags to match the studded-leather driver and passenger seats and backrest. When Shawn was a teen, Jon rarely used the saddlebags unless he had a lot to carry, as he didn't like the aesthetics of the bags. He only carried a briefcase with him to school that was on a leather strap he wore like a crossbody bag. The saddlebags were missing from the bike now, but it didn't matter as he had no use for them either. He put his hand on the seat. The leather was still supple after all these years. Jon may not ride anymore, but he still cared for the vehicle on a regular basis.

He moved to the front of the Harley and lightly ran his hand over the front fender. He let his fingers caress the Heritage Classic name proudly displayed in chrome script. As a teen, he had more interest in learning to ride the bike than drive a car.

Shawn's eyes drifted over the rest of the bike to the small windscreen and the laced wheels. The most noticeable feature of the Harley was the chrome. The fenders had chrome accents. The engine accents and covers were all chrome, as was the staggered, shorty dual exhaust.

It had been so long since Shawn had seen the Harley, he'd forgotten what a beast it was up close. A wave of nostalgia hit him as he thought about the first time he sat on the back seat of the motorcycle. It was the first summer he spent with Jon when they traveled the East Coast on the bike. Feeling the power of the engine beneath him and the open-air speeds was unlike anything he'd experienced before or since. From the first time the bike roared to life beneath him, he understood why Jon loved it so much. There was a freedom and adrenaline rush that no other vehicle could offer. Even a convertible luxury sports car was boring in comparison.

Shawn forced his attention away from the bike; they had to leave for the hospital now. He stood and pulled the key out of his pocket that Audrey had left him. The key was still on the same Pentagon keyring Jon had way back then.

=============

As he put the headgear on, memories of the helmet came rushing back: the first time he ever saw Jon; the time he came to lecture him and Cory at the Matthews over their strike; all the times he walked into class with it holding it against his hip.

Returning his mind to the present, Shawn stood next to the Harley and leaned into the tank as he put the key in the ignition. He found the balance point of the heavy machine and put it in neutral, then took hold of the handlebars. He pushed it forward, putting his hip into the seat to gain momentum to move it out of the garage.

Once in the driveway, Shawn got on the bike, and started the engine. As the Harley roared to life, the vibration of power surged through him, waking all his senses. Shawn felt like he was coming to life after sleeping through a long, cold winter.

As he released the clutch, he was 15 again and back in the parking lot of the apartment in Philadelphia, where Jon taught him how to ride the Harley. He could hear Jon's voice directing him to hold the clutch in and work the gear lever with his left foot until the transmission was in neutral. Everything his mentor ever taught him about the machine and how to operate it safely ran through his mind like a movie. Confident he'd done everything to his father's satisfaction, Shawn hit the gas and took off after the Yukon.

Read the Rest:

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#boy meets world #boy meets world fanfiction #boy meets world fic #bmw fanfiction #bmw #shawn hunter #jon turner #jonathan turner #Audrey Andrews #original character #found family fanfiction #found family #maya hart #girl meets world fanfiction #girl meets world

[zoomyrockininjapan]

There are many great things to like about living in Japan. Like most foreigners in Japan my infatuation covers everything from the country’s amazing food to its awesome Nature to the remarkable aesthetic arts peculiar to Japan. Of course, there is a great deal more about this country to love. However, these days on a daily basis one of the things I like to do the most in Japan is rock the drums in a hard-rock ’n roll band.  Another thing I love about Japan is its car culture and specifically the JDM  (Japan domestic market) sports car scene I think is the coolest. Everyday I get an adrenaline rush rolling along in my Subaru BRZ up and down the curvy winding mountain “togue” roads of rural Mie Prefecture. 

So starting today my “Zoomyrockininjapan” Tumblr will not only focus on finding my musical groove in Japan but also feature my passion for hot Japanese sports cars.

First up on my list is my favorite Japanese roadster of all time — a fantastic sports car made by Honda (from the years 2000 to 2009) that holds a special place in the hearts of sports car enthusiasts and collectors not only in Japan, but all over the world — the iconic S2000 —  regarded as one of the most pure driving experiences to ever come out of Japan. 

The initial launch model was given the chassis code AP1 and it came with one of the best 6-speed manual gearboxes of any sports car and was fitted with  a 2.0-litre 4-cylinder amazing VTEC engine  that could rev all the way up to 9,000 rpm, (with a power output of 247 hp in the JDM version)…and that my friends could put a smile on any driver fortunate to own one. 

[toyota-eddie-supriyadi]

Toyota Astra Motor (TAM) segera meluncurkan Rush facelift minor change 2024. Low Sport Utility Vehicle (LSUV) itu bakal bersolek minor, yaitu pada bagian kosmetik dan penyematan fitur.

Mengacu pada dunia maya, foto yang tersebar diduga adalah varian Rush GR Sport. Ubahan pada aspek kosmetik cukup banyak, seperti desain gril, bumper, dan bodi kit berubah terlihat lebih sporty dibandingkan versi sebelumnya.

Selain itu penyematan fitur baru juga dilakukan Toyota, yaitu pada bagian infotainment dengan memasang head unit layar sentuh berukuran 9 inci yang kini mengadopsi desain floating.

Sementara fitur keselamatan tetap sama, yaitu dibekali 6 airbags, ABS, EBD, Emergency Brake Signal, Vehicle Stability Control, Hill Start Assist, dan Seatbelt Indicator.

Begitu juga jantung pacu yang tetap menggunakan mesin bensin 1.500 cc 2NR-VE bertenaga 102 dk di 6.000 rpm dan torsi 136 Nm pada putaran 4.200 rpm.

#toyotarushindonesia #lsuv #mobilmurah #rwd #mobilbaru

👉𝘐𝘯𝘧𝘰 𝘗𝘳𝘰𝘮𝘰 𝘏𝘶𝘣 :

EDDIE TOYOTA . 📲 088211567518

*Member Of Astra*

PT Astra International Tbk

TSO - Auto2000 Sudirman Menara Astra

Jl. Jend Sudirman Kav 5 Jakarta Pusat

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