#wetsuit one probably not really a hat but work with me
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She loves a silly little hat <3
#wetsuit one probably not really a hat but work with me#this brought me great joy#shame we never really got silly hat plus space hoodie combo#vel sartha#andor#my posts
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A few notes before I start: Sorry about the white backgrounds, that’s how they showed up and I didn’t know how to fix them. Also, these summaries are going to be a lot shorter than they have in my last few posts just since there are so many characters. Anyway, let’s begin.
Literally godly, this should be your regular outfit -
Rantaro Amami - I shouldn’t have to be the first person to point out to you that he’s hot. Not to mention that the pink bottoms work wonders with his hair.
Nagito Komaeda - Hhhhhhhh
Byakuya Togami - I will admit, I’m basing this position more off of his appearance in the promo art. I don’t know how much I like this look on his regular sprite, but he’s so hot in that promo art, you don’t even know.
Show me who picked this out for you so I can thank them -
Sayaka Maizono - SHE LOOKS SO CUTE OML. I’d go through each detail, but in short: everything.
Gundham Tanaka - Shirtless Gundham, what more can I say?
Ibuki Mioda - I absolutely adore how her swimsuit doesn’t just go with her hair, but matches it. Perfection.
Korekiyo Shinguji - When the trailer first dropped and I saw the screen with all of the released swimsuits, I immediately started scanning to see if they put Korekiyo in a wetsuit and by God, they did.
Shuichi Saihara - He looks more tired than usual, but I just have a gut feeling his other sprites will look better.
Mondo Owada - I probably should’ve put him in standard, but he looks so good without a shirt on, I couldn’t possibly.
Kaito Momota - Space shorts.
Sakura Ogami - She was actually going to be somewhere in the first tier originally, but I just can’t put her there because of the color. I probably should’ve put her down with the other people with this problem (Uhhh... okay... I guess) but I couldn’t bear to.
Cute!/Cool! -
Chihiro Fujisaki - a;lskdfh;adskfijshdkjc He’s so cute, someone help. I’m drowning in cute. He looks so excited to be wearing it, too. I think this was the best choice they could’ve gone with to not give him something too masculine or feminine, fantastic choice.
Leon Kuwata - This category was originally just going to be “Cute!” but his bottoms looked so cool, I had to put him up here.
Toko Fukawa - Not only does her swimsuit look good on her, but I love the way that they designed her and Genocide Jack to be wearing the same swimsuit in different styles. Super cool.
Tenko Chabashira - I think this was one of the only palette swaps that I actually liked. There are probably a few other swaps that I didn’t even notice, but I like this one specifically because of the color swap. She looks great in pink.
Kyoko Kirigiri - I think I would’ve normally put her in standard, but her gloves are just too cool.
Mukuro Ikusaba - Love the colors and love the pattern. Simple, yet great.
Mahiru Koizumi - Mahiru, your camera. You can’t take that in the water. Mahiru- MAHIRU
Akane Owari - This is actually the swimsuit she wore during chapter 2 in the original game and I thought she looked great both times.
Chiaki Nanami - Same as Akane, so there’s not really any reason for either one to be higher or lower than the other. Peko would be up here too, but it’s really basic.
Gonta Gokuhara - I just really like the pattern and also that he’s still carrying the thing over his shoulder. It’s really weird who got to keep accessories and who didn’t, but we’ll get there.
Masaru Daimon - He just looks so cool in his shorts, I’m sure he’s excited to have them.
Shirokuma - Despite how I may feel about Shirokuma, this is a very cute outfit for them.
Standard -
Kaede Akamatsu - Definitely the best-looking of the protagonists, even if Shuichi’s higher. He’s only higher because I have faith that his faults are because of the sprite choice. If I’m wrong, sue me.
Kirumi Tojo - This is another instance of getting to keep the accessories. She still has her headband on. Why?? It wasn’t crucial to her character or anything. I get that Kyoko has backstory reasons and Gonta and Mahiru’s personalities revolve around their items, but why Kirumi? She had other things that defined her better.
Peko Pekoyama - Like I said before, basic and kinda bland. She still looks good, though.
Fuyuhiko Kuzuryuu - He actually gained an accessory. Why does he have a necklace now? His shorts are nice, though.
Hajime Hinata - O r a n g. Or maybe red.
Maki Harukawa - Basic swimsuit, no color change whatsoever. A nice swimsuit, but nothing special.
Genocide Jack - Everything I said before about Toko’s swimsuit still applies, Genocide Jack’s is just way more boring.
Aoi Asahina - A good color swap, but not good enough to make up for her basic swimsuit.
Monomi - I like that they put her in a one-piece. Very cute. Wish they would do that all the time...
Monaca Towa - I just noticed that she is the only character other than Monomi to wear a one-piece. Why??
Makoto Naegi - The most basic swimsuit imaginable combined with his regular color scheme and pattern.
Hiroko Hagakure - I think I like that she kept her jacket? Maybe? It’s a different jacket, but it still counts.
Nagisa Shingetsu - Black and white bottoms. Okay. You do you, buddy.
Imposter - It’s fine. It’s just fine.
Izuru - I like that they gave him a separate swimsuit from Hajime, but why is it so bland and boring?
I love you, so I’ll forgive it -
Sonia Nevermind - She actually looks great and is so cute. So cute that she’d be in the top tier if not for one crucial fact. If you’ll notice, I mentioned earlier that Peko, Chiaki, and Akane are all wearing the same swimsuit here that they had worn in the original second game. However, there’s another character that appears in the scene I’m talking about that is wearing a different outfit than they are here. That charcter is Sonia, who was seen in a wetsuit in the original game. It was thrown off as a joke, but I still can’t stop thinking about how pretty she looked in that wetsuit. It’s literally my profile picture for my main blog, that’s how pretty she is wearing it. I’m mad because they’re basically agreeing that she didn’t look pretty/sexy in the wetsuit when that couldn’t be more wrong.
Celestia Ludenberg - I literally just wish she was wearing a one-piece, it can be the same style and everything. Honestly a missed opportunity.
Kotoko Utsugi - It’s just a weird pattern. Love the colors, though.
K1-B0 - I’d be lying if I said I didn’t love the floaty, but he still deserves more respect.
Miu Iruma - The pattern is... fitting... but still bad.
Kiyotaka Ishimaru - Taka... sweetie... why...?
Uhhh... okay... I guess -
Angie Yonaga - I like the look, but it’s exactly what she usually wears just without the jacket. Does that mean that she’s always wearing a swimsuit? Why? Even Asahina didn’t wear a swimsuit as her regular outfit.
Kazuichi Soda - I definitely like this color better than the piss yellow he used to have, but it’s still not great. I like that he got to keep his little logo thing, but I’m confused as to why he gets to keep his hat. It’s just like Kirumi keeping her headpiece. I’m fine with it in this case, but why him and not...? Well, we’ll get there.
Komaru Naegi - A lot of the outfits in this tier are just because I like the look and not the color scheme, including Komaru. Yellow’s just an odd fit for the shade of green that her hair is.
Tsumugi Shirogane - The same as Komaru. Nice style, but the yellow and blue clash for me.
Hiyoko Saionji - Surprise surprise, it’s the same thing. I think the style really fits her, but I hate the yellow and green. Not into it.
Junko Enoshima - Ok, we’re out of the color scheme repetition. I don’t know why she’s wearing a tanktop. It just looks a little off, but I can’t place why. I don’t know why she isn’t just wearing the regular swimsuit like she was in the promo art. If she was, I’d probably put her in Standard.
Yasuhiro Hagakure - I’ll be honest, I didn’t notice the alien pattern on his shorts until after I had already downloaded the picture and closed out of the tier list tab. If I had noticed before, I’d probably put him in Cute!/Cool! but I still don’t really like the color scheme. Fitting, but not pleasing.
Kurokuma - The only reason he’s above Kokichi is because he has a water gun and I think that’s cute.
Kokichi Oma - Literally just gut instinct. I like that he kept his checkered pattern and purple color scheme. Something just told me he should be down here.
Monokuma - It just feels wrong, but I can’t place why, same as Kokichi.
Teruteru Hanamura - I probably would’ve liked his outfit better if his shirt was buttoned up at least a little bit. Now that I think about it, Mondo should’ve had one of these, too.
Who signed off on this? -
Usami - WHY IS SHE IN A BIKINI??? SHE’S A STUFFED RABBIT.
Nekomaru Nidai - I can absolutely see him picking this swimsuit to wear, but that doesn’t mean I like it.
Mikan Tsumiki - You know why she’s here.
God no. I hate it -
Ryoma Hoshi - So Mahiru gets to keep her camera, Kirumi gets to keep her headpiece, and Kazuichi gets to keep his hat.. but Ryoma doesn’t get anything? I genuinely had to take a second to figure out who this was the first time I saw him. He can’t even have a sunhat or anything? That would’ve been cute.
Himiko Yumeno - I can’t imagine a world in which she would choose this swimsuit for herself. The color is off, the style is off, I could much more easily see her wearing something similar to Monaca’s swimsuit. Basically, just let some of the girls wear one-pieces. They don’t all have to be in bikinis.
Jataro Kemuri - The pattern. I can’t even stand to look at it long enough to figure out what it is.
Hifumi Yamada - It did take me a second to figure out what his swimsuit was, but as soon as I did, he hit the bottom of the list. Again, it’s definitely fitting, but I still hate it.
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Bait
@harringroveweekoflove
Harringrove Week of Love Day 2: Mythological Creature AU
Rating: T
Words: 1641
Summary: Steve is barely paid enough to scoop ice cream under the hot sun at the Hawkins Aquarium. He's definitely not paid enough to deal with their asshole of a science project.
Steve is used to Dr. Owens showing up at his job by now. The Scoops Ahoy stand at the Hawkins Aquarium sees most of the science staff at some point because Indiana summers are fucking hot and a 15% employee discount is a 15% employee discount. Dr. Owens doesn’t come for the ice cream, though. He comes to ruin Steve’s day, usually carrying a bucket of raw fish for the... secondary duties Steve has now.
There is no bucket today. There’s a black eye, a busted lip, and a ruined wetsuit under a Hawkins Aquarium windbreaker, but no bucket. The signs of carnage are not uncommon either.
“Harrington.”
“Still think having a mermaid in an aquarium is a good idea?” Steve asks, glancing at him briefly before he goes back to wiping down the stand’s serving counter.
“I didn’t ask your opinion,” Owens says shortly. Talking splits his lip back open.
“But you want something from me.”
“You’re on the clock, aren’t you?”
Steve could argue, and sometimes he has, that he’s on Scoops Ahoy’s clock, not Owens’. Not even the aquarium’s, technically. And he’s being paid 3 bucks an hour to sling ice cream, not deal with the world’s first known mermaid. But Owens seems to be having a tough day, so he lets it go.
“Fine. Robin will be back from her break in 5 minutes. What do you need?”
***
Once Robin is firmly in charge of the ice cream scoop, Steve heads to the giant laboratory at the back of the aquarium. The heavy door buzzes open as soon as whoever watches the cameras sees him coming. Yeah, they all know him here, the asshole in the sailor uniform who’s Owens’ bitch.
‘We need to clean the tank,’ Owens had said. Which meant they needed to empty the tank first.
Billy wasn’t having any of that, apparently.
Steve sighs as he climbs the industrial staircase up to the top of the massive 2-story tank. There’s a lot of humming in his ears from the giant industrial filter and all the equipment in the room. He can’t hear shit inside the tank, but he doesn’t need to. A cursory glance over his shoulder confirms that, yep, as per usual, he’s got a mermaid following behind him. Probably staring at his ass.
Billy pops up at the top of the tank, folding his arms on the rim of it as Steve reaches the top of the stairs. He shakes his head of wet, blond curls out, and grins when water splatters all over Steve’s blue work uniform. Steve has no idea where a mermaid learned to be such an asshole.
“Hey, pretty boy,” he says, running his tongue over his sharp teeth. Steve doesn’t know where he learned that either.
“Why are you roughing up Owens?” Steve asks, crouching on the platform along the lip of the tank, bringing himself down to Billy’s height. “You always bitch that your tank isn’t clean enough.”
“It’s not. Because it’s a fucking tank and not an ocean.” Billy flashes him a grin that shows off his teeth, like rows of pins. “What can I say? They don’t handle the merchandise correctly.”
Steve gives Billy a critical once-over. He’s all muscle, from the sturdy human trunk to the thick red tail that Steve has seen him use to break ribs. “Too delicate for Owens’ handling? That’s what you’re sticking with?”
Billy scrunches his nose, and that’s all the warning Steve gets. The giant fan of his tail fin pops out of the water and slaps down on the surface, hard. It sprays Steve with more cold water that definitely, definitely needs that cleaning. He coughs and splutters, fumbling for his hat when it falls. Billy makes a grab for it, but Steve manages to slap his hand away. This time. Billy already has two of these stashed somewhere in his tank, and Steve’s boss is going to start charging him if he keeps losing them. Even if it’s aquarium property that’s stealing them.
“Were you saying something there, princess?”
“Asshole.” Steve drops his weight back and sits on his butt. “What’s got your mer-panties in a wad? Seriously.”
Billy’s tail fin slides back under the water and he shrugs. “Where’ve you been? You haven’t come to see me.”
Ah. That’s probably it. “Missed me?”
That earns him a dramatic rolling of eyes as if Billy has ever heard of anything so absurd. As if he hasn’t just roughed up a man in his fifties to get Steve to come to his tank. As if Steve is somehow the unreasonable one here.
“It’s okay if you did.”
“We don’t feel shit like that. Merfolk aren’t pussies.”
Steve is pretty sure that’s a lie. According to Owens, mermaids might have a very complex system of interpersonal relationships, which may or may not include bonding the way humans do, blah blah blah. From what Steve can tell, Billy’s pretty human in respect to how his emotions work. He’s just a typical guy about them, meaning he doesn’t want to talk about them or acknowledge that they exist.
He really hates that he’s the emotionally mature one here. That is not a thing that should be happening in Steve’s life right now. Robin has already confirmed for him that if emotions were a car, he wouldn’t even have a learner’s permit. He’d still be on roller skates. It’s a sound analogy, and it’s comforting because it confirms what Steve pretty much already knew.
“I’m sorry I haven’t come to see you,” he says because it’s just faster. Pointing out that he’s not allowed inside this place unless Owens has requested his help won’t end well. Steve is pretty sure that’ll make Billy just dig in his proverbial heels every time he wants to see Steve. That’s kind of sweet, in a Billy sort of way, but Steve doesn’t want to suddenly find himself working six days a week and on-call for Sundays even though the aquarium is closed. Easier to just take the blame.
Billy huffs a breath out through his nose. “You’re just being nice so I’ll let them clean the tank.”
“And you were only an asshole to Owens so I’d show up and be nice to you,” Steve points out. He’s learned not to let Billy’s bullshit slide. He might be some majestic legend of the sea, but he’s also an asshole. And an opportunist.
Billy breaks out into a grin, doing that Thing with his tongue again. “You got me.”
“So. Will you let them clean the tank?” Steve asks. “I’ll bring you your lunch in the holding tank and tell you about the bullshit new ice cream flavor they’re making us push.”
Billy looks up and off to one side as if he’s considering it. “Hm... sure.”
That was relatively easy. Small mercies. “Awesome,” Steve says, getting to his feet, sneakers squeaking on the wet platform. “I’ll tell Owens to get that hammock thing th—“
“But only if you carry me.”
Steve stares down at him. Billy just gives him a shit-eating grin, popping his tail fin back up and swaying it in what Steve swears is a taunt. Not that he knows anything about mermaid body language but that... that’s taunting right there.
“No.”
“Then I’m not leaving my tank.”
“Billy.”
“Steve.”
Steve flails helplessly, gesturing to include all of Billy. “Dude. You’re over 200 lbs.”
Billy fakes an affronted look and pats his sculpted abdomen. “Hey. I’ve been watching my figure.”
“Your tail is the size of a person.”
“Only a small-to-medium size person.”
“I am not hauling your slimy ass down two flights of stairs.” Steve is not paid enough for this bullshit to begin with, but this is a whole new level of paid that he’s not getting.
“Excuse you, I am not slimy!” Billy strikes the water again with his tail on a hard angle, sending a small wave of water crashing over Steve. Then he shoves back from the side of the tank and starts to submerge.
“No, no, no!” Steve coughs and wipes the water from his face, crouching back down. “Okay. Okay, you win, I’ll carry you.”
Billy pauses and raises an eyebrow. “...And?”
“And... you’re not slimy.” Steve has no idea if that’s true or not because he doesn’t usually have to haul Billy’s entire ass around. But apparently, he’s about to find out.
***
Getting down two flights of industrial stairs with a mermaid whose tail is the size of Steve when the whole thing is out of the water is... interesting. In a lot of bad ways. Steve’s arms feel like they might rip out of his sockets after the first five steps because Billy is well over 200 lbs of muscle and fucking fish scales and maybe he’s not slimy but he’s definitely slippery. And then he has to get up a half flight of stairs to get Billy to the smaller holding tank.
Billy thinks the whole thing is hilarious, and also steals his hat in the process.
The only satisfaction Steve gets is dropping Billy’s heavy mer-ass into the holding tank completely without ceremony. Which, as he should have remembered, does the same thing as dropping any other large, heavy object into the water. Steve gets soaked for a third time today when the wave it creates crashes over him, but at least this one doesn’t reek. And maybe it even gets some of the fish smell out of his uniform.
Billy pops back up from the water, laughing his ass off. “Good thing you look good wet, pretty boy,” he says, leaning on the side of his tank. “Now I believe you said something about lunch?” He snaps his fingers twice. “Chop, chop, I’m starving.”
Mermaids are assholes and Steve is absolutely not paid enough to deal with them.
#my writing#harringrove week of love#harringrove#billy/steve#the repeating theme here is that Steve is tired and underpaid#so it's pretty much canon-compliant#except Billy has a tail
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Too Short For Ao3 Fic #3? 4?
SO this is the extended edition of the bonus wip I did with Sally's birthday. The overall fic it belongs to is Extremely Smutty, so I went in and revised out the brief references and I'm posting the family-centric g-rated stuff for anyone who wants that but not the smut! Cough.
Also, I felt bad about missing WIP Wednesday again. Lolsob.
Percy rouses at around eleven PM to a sketch of himself on Jason's pillow. There's a note on the other side.
I wanted to wake you up to say goodbye, but you looked so comfy I didn't have the heart to. your mom's presents are in the bag by my desk. say hi to everyone for me. I'll call tomorrow anyway.
love you to the moon and back.
-J. ❤
Complete with a little red heart. He doesn't even care that the doodle of him next to it, burritoed in a pile of blankets, includes a little spot of drool— he can tell by the rest of his cartoony, ballpoint features that Jason put it in because he thinks it's cute.
(And by the fact that he's said so, several times.)
Percy gathers up his junk. The cornflower blue sweatshirt he steals goes halfway down his fingers. He's come to accept that at six foot three and counting, Jason is the taller of them and always will be— barring some sort of horrible wood-chipper accident or curse from a grumpy deity.
Fortunately, there's something about looking up to meet someone's eyes that Percy finds incredibly attractive. He has since Annabeth outgrew him for the first time in eighth grade.
He heads out in his own jeans and the boxers he packed and the sweatshirt that smells like cinnamon. Once he boards the train, he stands with his arm around a pole and the other holding the bag against his chest, and tries to stay casual and keep the grin off his face.
It's almost midnight when he gets home. His mom, of course, is still awake, so he heads into the living room to greet her.
"My other half says hello."
There's a pile of presents on the coffee table. He puts the bag with the rest of them and sits down, kissing her cheek.
"He didn't have to get me anything." She closes her book and eyes the bag with a fond sigh. "How is he?"
Percy's the same way she is, always happy to do favors and give gifts, but feeling pretty awkward about receiving them. Jason's even worse, the three of them in an ongoing and circular competition to never let any of it go reciprocated.
"Working too hard, as always. Pulling As and winning games and barely sleeping to do it. His stepmother's up his ass and his father's a bully, so, you know, news at eleven." He leans his head onto her shoulder. "That's why he gives you stuff. He's trying to show you how much he appreciates you."
She sighs, and Percy knows it's because she's just as frustrated by the whole thing as he is.
"He knows I appreciate him too, I hope."
"Without a doubt." Percy smiles at her, watching as she goes a little pink and smiles back. "You have a talent for making him feel appreciated."
"He treats my baby like a prince," she says softly. "That's why I appreciate him so much in the first place. How could I do anything else?"
Percy turns his face into her shirt collar, another futile attempt to hide his goofy expression,
"He really does, doesn't he?"
Holding doors, pulling out chairs, offering an arm on unsteady streets. Jason's never laid his coat over a puddle, but Percy's pretty sure he would, if the option presented itself.
His mom starts playing with his hair, her fingers light and familiar.
"I'm just happy you're happy, sweetheart."
He knows that feeling too.
Half asleep from the petting, Percy lets himself be a little babyish. It's after midnight now, which means it's her birthday, and he knows that sometimes she misses when he was Estelle's age and little enough to curl up in her lap. He's way too big for that now, obviously, but he can still slide down the couch and rest his head there.
"You too, Mama."
She looks at him, her eyes misty with emotion and almost green in the light.
She's smiling, too.
She smiles a lot, these days.
—
In the morning, Paul makes coffee while Estelle helps unwrap the avalanche of presents. She's at the age where ripping paper makes her squeal with hysterical laughter, which worms its way into Percy's heart and melts it into pudding.
Several of them are from Percy's friends, including a handbound book of original recipes from Leo, a lovely silver bracelet inset with mother-of-pearl that Beckendorf made himself, and a huge sheathed knife with a matching decorative handle from Clarisse. The last one makes his mom snort as she gets up to put it on the bookshelf, out of reach of curious toddler hands.
"Decorative. Sure."
"I bet she'd teach you how to use it if you asked."
"I know how to use a bowie knife, dear. Your father and I used to catch and cook our own fish when we went camping."
"Which reminds me, he still hasn't taken me out," Paul cuts in, frowning. "I've been saving up dad jokes and embarrassing stories for four years."
"I'll bug him about it the next time we talk," Percy promises. "It's probably the ADHD."
"Do you want me to bug you about bugging him?"
"If you haven't set something up by blueback season, yeah."
Percy and Paul went in on a pound of jasmine tea, which his mom reaches for next. She immediately asks for a cup— it's one of two days out of the entire year where she lets other people wait on her, for a change, and even that took a lot of cajoling.
Paul makes the tea, since Percy usually scalds the leaves and it turns out tasting like grass. She probably wouldn't complain anyway, but it's her birthday, and she deserves to have the best tea that can be made in their kitchen.
"Is the last bag from Jason?" Paul sets the mug on a coaster in the middle of the coffee table, and Percy scoops the baby into his lap so she doesn't try to grab it. She mashes her tiny hand against his cheek.
"And Thalia. I'm not sure if they went in on stuff or he just packed them both in one bag to make it easy."
Either is a possibility. He watches as his mom reaches in and pulls out a large wrapped frame, Thalia's spiky handwriting answering the question.
Whatever's inside, it makes her shut her eyes and exhale deeply through her nose.
"Please pass on that I am absolutely furious."
She turns the frame around. An autographed vinyl EP of Sign O' the Times by Prince— one of the albums Percy grew up on, though she skipped a number of the songs when he was little. Thalia must have spent a fortune on it.
"That woman is incredible," Paul breathes, lightly touching the glass. "How does she get this stuff?"
"See!"
"She has friends in high places." Percy grins as Estelle reaches for the album, and holds her over the glass so she can touch it too. "She's also really good at barter chains."
His mother shakes her head, but he can tell how delighted she is— the two of them have spent hours animatedly talking about music, Thalia hanging on every word and groaning with jealousy over the concerts his mom went to in the eighties.
"I know exactly where I'm going to put it."
Thalia got her a turntable for her fortieth birthday last year, as well as a full set of replacements for every worn-out record in their collection— and had the originals framed too, since they had sentimental value. They're currently occupying the better part of two walls of his mom's study.
There's a blank spot by her bookshelf, right underneath the first copy, that the autographed album will fit into perfectly. Percy grins.
"I'll hang it up for you later."
She doesn't argue. There's only Jason's left, his careful print written out across the same paper Thalia used. The crinkling draws Estelle's attention, and she gleefully reaches over to help tear it off.
Their mom gasps at what's inside and puts a hand to her mouth, her eyes going bright.
It's a watercolor portrait of Percy and Estelle, laughing by the shoreline. She's dressed in a little bucket hat, a ruffled swimsuit patterned to look like a clownfish and the coolest shades in the world— sparkly blue frames shaped like seashells that he kind of wishes he could get in his size. He's in a wetsuit, having spent the morning surfing, and he's holding onto her hands so she can jump at the waves. In the distant background is the Montauk lighthouse.
It's beautifully done, like everything else Jason's ever put to paper, but Percy's never choked up like this over one of them.
"You remember that, Beluga? That was on my birthday, when you came and visited me and Jason at the beach."
"Beach?" she asks, expectant. Paul bursts into laughter, sounding as rough-voiced as Percy feels.
"You're your mother's daughter, sweet pea."
"Beach!" Estelle insists. Percy noses her pudgy cheek.
"It's too cold to swim, baby." His mom's eyes are sparkling, still a little teary. He can see Estelle in the smile on her face. "But we could go for a walk and visit."
"Brunch first." Paul kisses her— Percy averts his eyes, wrinkling his nose at his sister to make her giggle again— and gets up, heading back into the kitchen.
It's a lovely way to spend a late morning. Pale blue araucana eggs courtesy of Grover's new hens, a blueberry coffee cake from Nico by a fantastic hole in the wall in Hell's Kitchen, Paul's signature home fries made with blue potatoes and seasoned to perfection; all of it delicious.
Jason calls while Percy's doing the dishes. After his deep, resonant performance of the happy birthday song, the five of them chat on speakerphone for a little while, though he has to excuse himself pretty quickly to keep banging through his reading.
"Maybe next year," Percy sighs. His mom puts her hand on his hip, then crouches down to help Estelle with her light-up sneakers.
"He's always welcome for a rain check."
"He's always welcome, period," Paul adds. For the second time, Percy gets dangerously close to sniffling.
Montauk is a little far for a day trip, so they head to Brighton Beach instead. Estelle's shrimpy legs get tuckered out more quickly than the grownups' do, so Percy ends up carrying her on his hip, snuggled into his jacket to block the chilly breeze. She points at seagulls, shouting triumphantly every time.
"More bird!"
"That's right. A whole flock of 'em."
They watch for a while as the gulls fight over a discarded pizza crust. Then Percy feels an arm around his back and a head against his shoulder.
"I don't know how I got so lucky," his mother murmurs, barely audible over the rushing of the waves.
Percy's eyes sting.
For most of his life, her birthdays had been spent without fanfare. He was rarely actually there for them anyway, and Gabe complained so much it was easier to just ignore the day and focus on survival instead.
She'd been triaging like that since before she even met his dad, keeping herself afloat when nobody seemed to care if she drowned. It would have been easy to lie down and give up. Percy's pretty sure he would have, in her place.
He turns to hug her with the obligatory proclamation of a Stella Sandwich. He catches Paul's eye over her shoulder, and gets a wide, sentimental grin in response.
"Luck's got nothing to do with it," Percy tells her, leaning his cheek against the top of her head while his sister wriggles with delight between them.
"Listen to our son," Paul adds. "He's very wise, as you raised him to be. This is all on you, honey."
Within moments, she's surrounded by her whole family on all sides, and Percy has another arm around his back, and he's getting a little choked up over it all.
When she first started dating Paul, back when Percy was still in middle school, she'd spent weeks all aflutter. It was the happiest he'd ever seen her at the time. They'd sit outside and work on her car together, and she'd slip into song like a grease-stained fairytale princess without even thinking about it.
Seeing them interact is like cool water on a burn, Paul's devoted kindness soothing a lifetime of sitting back and watching people treat her like dirt. He worships her, just like she deserves and long overdue.
"I love you," she says, tearful and muffled in someone's shoulder. "All of you, more than anything."
"Love Mama," Estelle replies, and that's it— Percy's blubbering.
It'll never undo the damage, but it's about time she got a chance to heal and thrive.
-here in our bed, chapter 7, ~6200 words
#wip wednesday#yes I know don't look at me like that#i wrote this#sally jackson#paul blofis#estelle blofis#family fic#oh lord the cheese
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The Slippery Slope: An Izzy Stradlin Fanfiction
Chapter 1: Penguin on a Leash
MASTERLIST
Story Summary: 6 Chapter mini series about Izzy meeting a biologists who works at the zoo. Takes place after his time with Guns an’ Roses
Izzy watched the penguins swim around in their habitat trying to understand what all the hype was about. Lafayette had fliers and banners advertising the new baby penguins that were born at the zoo only a couple of weeks before he moved back to his hometown. After quickly realizing that he had fallen into a rut since leaving Guns N’ Roses, he decided to mix things up and visit the zoo to see these overhyped penguins and alleged peaceful gardens that were pictured in half the advertisements he saw.
It was around 2 pm, and Poppy felt relief that there were no children tours on Fridays. Since it was slow she was granted the permission to take one of the injured penguins on a walk. This was without a doubt one of those moments when she was glad that she went to college.
“Yeah Phil, that’s where you will live once your flipper gets a little better,” Izzy’s attention was pulled from watching the penguins swim about when he heart the soft voice followed by some form of squawking and giggles.
“Yeah, and then once you are fully healed, you get to go back to Chile!” Izzy found the soft voice to be a girl, probably only a few years younger than him, talking to one of the penguins who she had on a leash. Maybe it would have been considered weird, but after touring with Guns, the bar for what was actually weird was high. Girl dressed in full wetsuit while walking around a penguin on a leash just wasn’t weird enough.
“What’s wrong with his flipper?” Poppy’s attention was pulled from her penguin when Izzy spoke. She sent a soft smile towards Izzy, just another zoo patron. She felt a sigh escape her as she quickly looked around to make sure they were alone.
“Poor thing was found cut up on a beach. We’re guessing that he got cut up by a piece of steel, but he is healing really well, such a trooper. I will be sad to see him go,” Izzy held onto every word as she spoke. It was clear that she loved her penguin friend. With her soaked hair and wetsuit, he wondered if she recent went swimming with the penguin.
“Did you two just come from a swim?”
Izzy felt a small smile grow on his face as she giggled at his question.
“No. Before this walk I was checking up on a Dolphin and Edward startled me causing me to fall into the water....I swear sometimes dolphins can be really rude,” Poppy fwlt small butterflies begin to flap their wings in her stomach. The nerves were beginning to soar.
Poppy smiled as Izzy listened to her go on and on about how their little zoo volunteered to help Phil the penguin get better. He was her pride and joy, and there was no doubt that she would be crying when he went back to the wild. They would be happy tears, but tears none the less.
Poppy was shocked when Izzy hadn’t started to show disinterest half way through her rambling. Little did she know that not only was Izzy actually interested, but he was also used to someone rambling about animals. The penguins were a good change from snakes.
“Do you only work with penguins?”
“No, I work with most of the water creatures here. I stay away from the reptile house, those snakes creep me out. I don’t trust them,” Poppy felt a shiver travel through her as she thought of the snakes, or danger noodles as she called them behind closed doors. It wasn’t professional for someone who had a doctorate in zoology to call snakes danger noodles...even if that’s what they were.
“I’m Poppy by the way,” she sent a warm smile Izzy’s way after silence filled the air in between them.
“Izzy,” Izzy reached out his hand and quickly shook Poppy’s wet hand. He was almost shocked she hadn’t recognized him.
“Is this your first time here in the zoo?” Poppy asked hoping to keep the conversation alive. He was definitely the quiet type, but she liked that. She also liked that he was incredibly hot.
“I haven’t been here for at least 15 years....” Izzy watched the penguin Poppy was walking look at the photos of penguins that hung on the wall for decoration. Izzy decided it was strange seeing a penguin outside of its inclosure, but he figured it was strange seeing a rockstar in a zoo.
“Well I have only been here for one year, but a lot has changed. I’m already giving Phil, my penguin buddy here, a tour...would you like to join us? It would help me look more normal because I would be talking to an actual human instead of just a penguin. All that I ask would be for you to help keep your eyes out for any zoo patrons. I’m supposed to be avoiding visitors,” she hoped, no prayed that Izzy would join her. It was clear that he wasn’t from around here by the way he dressed, and she wanted to know what type of cowboy wore a floppy hat like the ones they worse in the musical Newsies.
After a quick chuckle, Izzy replied. “Well you haven’t been very good about staying away from zoo visitors, so I think you could use the help.” Truth be told, Izzy almost said no, but there was something about her silver eyes that caught his attention.
Poppy spent the next couple of hours giving Izzy the most in depth tour she could. She wouldn’t admit it, but she was definitely showing off. She couldn’t remember the last time someone had listened to her ramble this much, and she was going to take full advantage of it. She could hear her mother in the back of her head lecturing her on how she was boring the poor boy to death, but whenever he asked a question or sent a small smile her way she pushed that thought to the back of her head.
Izzy quickly learned that he could listen to her talk about her animals all day. Her silver eyes appeared a little greener whenever she talked about them. Her cheeks would blush and the tips of her ears would turn a little red whenever she apologizes for rambling, but Izzy would always reassure her that it was fine. This only made her cheeks go redder. He had to admit, it was pretty cute.
“That ones name is Edward. He is the one who startled me this morning resulting in me falling into the water,” Poppy pointed at one of the larger dolphins in the far right corner.
“He is defiantly my favorite then,” Izzy teased while looking the aquatic beast up and down.
“Edward doesn’t seem like a dolphin name,” he added walking over towards the dolphin she pointed out. He took another sip of the water that she had given him earlier in the tour. With all of their walking she didn’t want him to get dehydrated.
“That’s why I call him Axl,” this caught Izzy off guard causing him to choke on his water. After a couple of coughs he was able to regain his composure.
“Axl?”
“Yeah of Guns N’ Roses...he’s the lead singer, and according to the tabloids he is horny dick. Edward here shares a similar personality. I heard in a interview not too long ago that Axl is apparently from Lafayette, so I thought it was perfect,” she shrugged before she went back to watching the penguin who was clearly interested in his dolphin ‘friends’.
Izzy smirked as he watched dolphin Axl swim around. He wondered if she was a fan of Guns N’ Roses or just heard of the music. It was almost impossible to avoid hearing about the band. He had been trying to avoid the band entirely for weeks now. Bottom line, he appreciated that she didn’t know who he was. What he was or used to be.
“Looks like Axl is taking a liking to you,” she giggled as she pointed towards the dolphin that was clearly staring at him. Poppy giggled as Izzy moved left and right trying to test to see if the dolphin was actually looking at him. He felt like a fool, but her laugh was worth him making a fool of himself.
“If you ever want to go swimming with your new buddy, let me know. Usually Axl doesn’t like guys, but he seems like he wouldn’t be against swimming with you,” he turned to see the girl smiling from ear to ear.
“No, I’m good. I don’t feel like dealing with a horny Axl,” this earned a giggle from Poppy. It was true though, he had dealt enough with his Axl’s bull shit for years, and he didn’t need to meet the dolphin version.
“Well.....if you ever change your mind,” Poppy walked over towards a small table filled with fliers and grabbed one. She quickly flipped to the page that had her picture on it and wrote her phone number on it.
“This is my personal number, feel free to call it to go swimming....or...if you want to talk about other things. I’m sure you have heard enough about sea creatures to last you a while,” Poppy felt her cheeks flash red as she turned her focus towards the penguin, too intimidated to look Izzy in the eyes.
“Sure,” he said before she waved goodbye and headed behind a staff only door, penguin right behind her.
He opened the brochure and looked at the about our staff page she had written her number on. She looked very different in that photo. Her wetsuit was replaced by a white lab coat where the red hair that framed her face caused her freckles to stand out even more.
Doctor Poppy Thomas is our second aquatic specialist. As a proud Indiana Alumni, Dr Poppy earned her masters and PHD at Purdue University with a focus on animal rehabilitation and psychology. Poppy joined us during the Summer of 1990, and has become a quick favorite amongst the penguins.
Poppy couldn’t help the smile that was plastered on her face as she brought Philip back to the rehab room. She couldn’t believe that she had actually given someone her phone number. She was so proud of herself. Was it professional? No.
Did she do it anyway? Yes.
Plus if anyone asked she could just give a little while lie and say that he was writing a paper and needed to get a hold of her.
“Someone is in a good mood,” Poppy looked over towards Dr Elliot who was reading some academic journal.
“Went on a walk with Philip, he is moving his arm a lot better. He appears to almost have full range. Don’t ya buddy?” Poppy looked at the penguin who was minding his own business.
“Ohh good to hear Poppy!” Sally, one of their technicians, cheered while helping Poppy take off the harness.
“So who was the guy you were showing around? Was he someone who donated a lot of money or something?” Sally asked the moment Dr Elliot left the room.
Despite only being a vet technician, she had more experience with how their Zoo worked than Poppy. Sally had worked at the Zoo for over 10 years, and no one gets a tour unless they are someone special. Now if they were special to Poppy or to the Zoo was a totally different question.
“No, just a visiting paying patron of the zoo,” Poppy shrugged back.
Sally smirked as she saw the red hues fill Poppy’s cheeks. Did someone have a small crush?
“A cute paying patron?”
“I...uhhh...I didn’t notice,” this only earned a laugh from Sally.
“Ohh honey...one of the volunteers asked me why you were giving a tour to a cute guy who looked to be about you age ,” Sally smirked the entire time she was talking.
Poppy just brushed off her comment and went to change out of her wetsuit. Sally was married with two children, so she lived through Poppy. It was something Poppy had grown used to. Whether it was Sally telling her to go out to a bar or to see some concert, Sally would make the recommendations. Her recommendations would also include guys to date, her very unwanted recommendations.
Poppy then spent the rest of the day checking up on the other animals, Izzy never slipping her mind. She then drove home, trying to get her mind off of the boy she gave a tour to. She sang along to songs on the radio all while feeling bad for anyone nearby who heard her poor vocal skills. Once she got home, she walked into her cozy one bedroom apartment and immediately walked over towards her kitchen and began to cook. The entire time she never took her eyes off of the phone.
She grew impatient as dinner turned into watching a show which turned into showering and heading to bed. All hope of Izzy calling her diminished as she curled up under the covers.
Almost in parallel Izzy sat on his couch, silence filling the air. He had debated back and forth on whether or not to call her. He could hear his band mates...ex-bandmates in the back of his head giving him their unwanted advice. Axl was saying to move on, he was a rockstar and she was nothing. Slash was saying something about how she would be a good fuck because doctors know the human anatomy best. Steven and Duff were saying to go for it because she was cute. He let a groan escape him as he plopped down on the couch. Chicks were so much easier when he was in a band.
Izzy soon found himself digging through his bag that was filled with sheet music and other crap, eventually finding the flier with her number. He then found his phone and dialed the number, hoping it wasn’t too late. He turned towards the large black clock that hung on the wall. He cussed to himself as he noticed it was 3 in the morning.
He had almost lost hope when the phone continued to ring, but he felt a smile cross his face when he heard a groggy hello from the other end.
“Hey, Poppy? This is Izzy.”
#gnr fanfiction#gnr fanfic#gnr imagine#guns and roses fanfic#guns and roses imagine#guns and roses fanfiction#guns n roses fanfiction#guns n roses imagine#guns n roses fanfic#guns n’ roses fanfic#guns n’ roses imagine#guns n’ roses fanfiction#izzy stradlin fanfic#izzy stadlin fanfiction#izzy stradlin imagine
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Mccree seeing Hanzo in his summer skin?
Whoops this turned out really long. I want you all to know I had “Moving in Stereo” by the Cars playing on repeat when I wrote the “Hanzo emerging from the water” scene.
—
“Sorry it’s taking so long…Angela’s better at this than me,” said Genji, having to raise his voice slightly over the buzz of the razor.
Hanzo’s neck hurt a little from tilting his head for so long. “Because letting Angela go at my head with a razor is a wonderful idea.”
“It is, because she’s a surgeon, and she touches up my hair all the time,” said Genji, there was a smile in his voice, “You’re not… afraid of her, are you?”
“Afrai–” Hanzo huffed, “I’m just able to pick up that she’s clearly uncomfortable around me and protective of you,” his voice dropped slightly, “And you can hardly blame her for that.”
“The worst she would do is shave a dick into the side of your head,” said Genji, pushing hair off of the back of Hanzo’s neck. Hanzo shot him a glare from the corner of his eye that he could manage to see Genji in. “Which…” Genji added, “Obviously, she wouldn’t do.”
“You would do that,” muttered Hanzo.
“Which is why I’m amazed you asked me to help out with this,” said Genji, that smile still in his voice as he continued to shave the back of Hanzo’s head.
“How is this so easy for you?” the words fell out of Hanzo and Genji paused, the tickle of the razor and the sound of its buzz against Hanzo’s scalp ceasing.
“What do you mean?” asked Genji.
“You can just say, ‘Let’s go to the beach!’ as if we don’t have decades of trauma and centuries of our family’s crimes to deal with,” said Hanzo.
“You’re finally off probation,” said Genji, “I thought you’d want to celebrate.”
“Yes, let’s celebrate your friends no longer pointing their weapons in my direction if I so much as sneeze suspiciously,” muttered Hanzo.
“Talon did ask you to join them 3 times–and you did have that whole thing with-”
“Baptiste defected,” Hanzo cut him off, “And I don’t know how many more times I have to tell you that was years ago.”
“You know it isn’t personal on their end,” said Genji.
“Except for the part where they all mostly know me as the man who nearly killed you,” said Hanzo.
“It’s gotten better,” Genji set the razor aside and put his prosthetic hand on Hanzo’s shoulder in a comforting gesture, but the reminder that that arm was prosthetic just made Hanzo’s guts tie up in knots more, “And it’s going to keep getting better. You know what I think?”
Hanzo’s shoulder’s slumped and he rolled his eyes, “What do you think, Genji?”
“I think you’re just getting anxious because this is a chance to see my teammates when they’re not on duty. This is a chance to let people get to know you outside of your skills on a mission–and you should have a life outside of missions–outside of…” Genji gestured between them, “Outside of trying to rebuild our family. When was the last time you were able to just… be with people? In a group?”
A long silence passed and Hanzo furrowed his brow.
“You know you left the entire right side of my head unshaved,” was all Hanzo responded with.
Genji just shrugged and turned the razor back on.
——
The Rock of Gibraltar loomed over the beach. McCree never really thought of their watchpoint as ‘looming,’ but looking at it now, he could definitely understood why locals kept their distance from it. You couldn’t even see the Watchpoint from their angle, but the knowledge of who was living up there, what kind of trouble they could bring to civilians in the area, was enough to make McCree’s stomach tense up slightly as he looked around the beach. Still, it felt freeing to feel the water rush up around his ankles with each wave. Overwatch duties could wait for now. Everyone needed a break eventually, even rogue vigilante peacekeeping organizations, he supposed.
It was a hot, crowded day, and a handful of Overwatch members were taking advantage of the crowds at the beach to slip in and try and snag a few hours of relaxation for themselves. A good amount of them were either off-watchpoint on missions (Like Pharah and Zenyatta) or looking after their own careers (like Lúcio and D.Va). And of course Jack was probably obsessing over Reaper’s next step, as usual. McCree itched for a cigar, or even a cigarette, but he was at least not enough of an asshole to subject crowds like this to secondhand. If he was, Mercy would probably knock it right out of his mouth anyways.
“Ahh,” Mercy stretched her arms high above her head, her seersucker swimsuit cover-up ruffling in the ocean breeze, “I can’t remember the last time I was able to get out like this!”
McCree shuffled behind her, sand finding its way between foot and flip-flop, tilting the brim of his hat back with his thumb. “It’s good to see you gettin’ some sun, Doc,” he said, looking out at the water.
“I could say the same for you,” said Mercy, “Finally off those ‘probationary agent’ duties. I still think it wasn’t fair of Jack to saddle you with all that—”
“They weren’t all bad,” said McCree with a shrug, “He’s–” McCree nearly said, ‘He’s not all bad’ but caught himself. Mercy was still probably the toughest nut to crack with regards to Hanzo’s presence on the Watchpoint.
“Finally settling in,” Mercy said crisply, “He’s finally settling in.”
One corner of McCree’s mouth tugged up in a smirk.
“I know he grew on you,” said Mercy, adjusting the brim of her own wide hat, “You don’t need to act like he didn’t for my sake.”
“He didn’t–I mean, I just figured it was too much energy to keep being as pissed with him as I was—”
“Jesse,” Mercy’s shoulder’s slumped in that almost motherly conciliatory way of hers.
“He’s really…” McCree started and then itched at the brim of his hat, not really sure how to finish that sentence. He shook his head, deciding to take the focus of the conversation off of himself. “You think he’ll ever grow on you?” McCree tilted his head and Mercy followed McCree’s gaze out over the sparkling waters.
“I don’t know,” Mercy admitted, “A part of me wants to trust him, for Genji’s sake, but so much of me just… can’t.”
“For Genji’s sake,” said McCree.
“Yes,” Mercy tucked a bit of hair back from her face.
“Heeeeeyyy!” a familiar voice yelled across the beach and both Mercy and McCree glanced over in the direction of its source to Brigitte and Torbjörn a couple dozen yards away, sitting on a few beach towels with an umbrella and cooler nearby. Torbjörn was busying himself with rubbing on another layer of sunscreen, but Brigitte was waving her arms above her head, signaling them to come over. Mercy and McCree exchanged glances, then picked up their pace to close the distance between them.
“Angela!” Brigitte’s voice was bright, “You’re out of the lab!”
“I should probably be concerned with how surprised people act when that happens, shouldn’t I?” said Mercy, smiling a little.
“Probably,” said Brigitte, opening the cooler and handing them each a packet, “Here. Take these quick. We miscalculated on the cooler’s insulation so they’re melting.”
“I didn’t miscalculate anything!” Torbjörn blustered, still rubbing sunscreen on himself, “These are clearly inferior and cheap popsicles!”
Brigitte rolled her eyes, “Just take them,” she said, as McCree and Mercy opened their popsicles. McCree’s was strawberry, Mercy’s was orange cream.
“I see you two actually came all set up,” said Mccree, licking at the bottom of his popsicle before red could drip onto his knuckles.
“But of course!” said Torbjörn, “We Lindholms work hard and play hard!”
“Don’t believe him,” said Brigitte, “He’s got a nannycam on the watchpoint anti-aircraft turrets. He’s been checking his tablet every 5 minutes.”
“Stop calling it a nannycam!” said Torbjörn.
“Stop calling the turrets ‘babies,’” said Brigitte with a smirk.
“Why of all the–” Torbjörn huffed and seized another popsicle out of the cooler, muttering as he unwrapped it and bit off a chunk of it.
“Where’s Genji?” asked Brigitte, craning her neck to look around, “He didn’t come here with you?”
“He’s coming, he just had some things to wrap up at the Watchpoint first,” said Mercy.
“Guess he’s gotta babysit his brother now that Jack let me off the hook,” said McCree with a shrug, sliding the last bits of popsicle off its stick with his teeth.
“Don’t tell me the probation’s over already?” said Torbjörn.
“Congrats on the new team member?” McCree shrugged.
“So he’s actually staying?” said Brigitte, “But he’s so… ‘Hmph!’” she passed her hand in front of her face and her expression theatrically shifted to a furrowed brow and deep frown. Mercy snickered.
“Well, the only sniper we’ve got is Ana, and she’s focused on medic stuff half the time,” said McCree, “I mean, I don’t think it would hurt.”
“Huh! I guess you would know,” Brigitte shrugged, “I mean, you spent more time with him than anyone here.”
“Well, yeah–that was my job,” said McCree, a bit more harshly than he meant to say.
Brigitte blinked, “Sorry, did I come off as rude with that last comment?”
“What?” said McCree, “No.”
“It’s just you seem a little agitated—”
“I–” McCree huffed and cut himself off, “I’m fine. It’s fine. You got anything to drink in that cooler?”
“Thought you’d never ask!” said Torbjörn.
—
“I can’t do this,” said Hanzo, as they walked across the beach. Hanzo’s stomach was still twisting at the sight of the scars that scored Genji’s arms and face. Genji’s prosthetic legs were on full display with his ridiculously short workout shorts.The way Genji talked about the shame he felt about his own body in years past, it was a bit of a relief to see Genji walking around dressed like he did back in their youth, but it also faced Hanzo with his own mistakes. But what could he do? Ask Genji to don a full wetsuit for his own comfort? When every scar on display was Hanzo’s own doing? Hanzo tried to focus on scanning the crowd for potential threats rather than look directly at Genji.
“It’s really not that bad—” said Genji.
“Why am I doing this? Why are you wearing that?!” said Hanzo, gesturing at Genji’s open-sided tank top.
Genji glanced down at the words ‘BAE WATCH’ splayed across his chest in large block letters. “Because it’s fun?” he suddenly perked up, “Oh! There’s Angela.”
Hanzo followed Genji’s line of sight to a small gathering at a beach umbrella. McCree and Mercy were facing away from them, blocking out whoever was under the umbrella. McCree was still wearing a cowboy hat with his swim trunks. Of course he was. They all seemed to be having a pleasant time talking, and Genji started walking towards them when Hanzo suddenly stuck a hand out in front of Genji’s chest.
“What?” said Genji.
“Hold this,” Hanzo handed Genji his vest.
“Sure–” Genji started but Hanzo split off from him and started wading into the water, “Wait–but the others are–!” Genji cut himself off as Hanzo submerged his head. Genji’s shoulders slumped a little, still holding Hanzo’s vest, “It’s fine!” he called out to the water, “I’ll just tell them you’re swimming!”
—
“…but you guys are still sharing the dormitories?” said Brigitte, slipping a cozy on her beer can.
“We aren’t sharing the dormitories–they’re dormitories–there’s like 12 beds down there, not exactly sharing,” said McCree.
“I’d say it’s sharing if there’s no walls,” said Torbjörn.
“It’s not sharing,” said McCree flatly.
“There is still that last admin apartment,” said Mercy, “You could take that.”
“God, no, I’m not pulling that ‘odd couple’ shit,” said McCree.
“…I mean just you. You singular. You would take the apartment and Hanzo would stay in the dormitories,” said Mercy.
“…Oh,” said McCree. He took a long gulp from his own beer then.
“I mean if you wanted to take the apartment with him, I wouldn’t stop you–” Mercy started but McCree sputtered and coughed.
“You okay?” said Brigitte as McCree coughed for an awkwardly long time.
“Fine–” McCree coughed, “Just–fine—” he coughed some more.
“Yo!” Genji’s voice rang out from behind him and McCree swiveled on his heel.
“Gen–” he coughed, “–ji! You made it!”
“Of course I’m here,” said Genji, tossing a white vest over his shoulder and swinging an arm around Mercy’s waist, “I heard a certain doctor would be in a swimsuit and I came running.”
Mercy snorted and rolled her eyes before leaning into his embrace and kissing him on the cheek. “I can’t believe you’re wearing the tank top,” she said, grinning.
“You love this tank top,” said Genji, returning the kiss.
An “Aw!” fell out of Brigitte while Torbjörn just rolled his eyes and grumbled.
“Guess Hanzo chickened out, then?” said McCree.
“Oh no, he’s still here,” said Genji, “Just decided to cool off. He really is looking forward to spending time with all of you!”
No one really had the heart to tell Genji when it was painfully obvious that Hanzo had said no such thing.
“Well,” Brigitte offered helpfully, digging through the cooler and tossing Genji a popsicle, “When he gets here, there’s popsicles and beers and sodas with his name on them!”
—
Hanzo’s eyes were squeezed shut beneath the water, he could feel the salt clawing at the line of his lips and the creases of his eyelids.
You can’t stay down here forever, he told himself, Literally. You have to breathe.
He permitted his head to break the surface only slightly, letting his nose rise above the water to breathe, and blinked a few times to get the sting of salt away. On the beach, Genji was eagerly chatting with his arm around Mercy’s shoulders, McCree was looking on, and the Lindholms were sitting on beach towels beneath an umbrella. Genji said something Hanzo couldn’t hear from that distance and all five of them laughed. What? What was so funny? Were they talking about him? No, don’t be an idiot–they all had lives well before he came to that watchpoint, it was ridiculous to assume he’d be at the center of all them just by being there. None of them even looked over in his direction.
When was the last time you were able to just… be with people? In a group? Genji’s voice echoed in Hanzo’s mind and no small amount of resentment came over him.
There’s always a bit of bitterness when one is an older sibling and one watches something come more naturally to their younger sibling. Genji was always the more personable between the two of them–Hanzo could hold council with the elders of the clan, but Genji could actually talk to people and not come off as stiff and unnatural. Hanzo couldn’t stand how naturally it came to Genji, and for Hanzo it just became a vicious cycle of throwing himself into his training and clan traditions and then wondering why people only seemed more and more distant to him. Brigitte said something this time and McCree cracked up, the lines of his stomach and ribs tensing with his laugh. Genji glanced over his shoulder towards the water.
Don’t look at me don’t look at me don’t look at me— the words ran as a prayer in Hanzo’s mind.
They made eye contact.
Shit, thought Hanzo, Don’t wave to me. Don’t point me out. Don’t–
Genji waved to him and then glanced back at the others, pointing out Hanzo in the water, saying something inaudible from where Hanzo was.
“Shit,” Hanzo said the word with his mouth still below the water and it broke the water’s surface as a silent bubble. Well if he stayed out here any longer it would just get more and more awkward unless he made a big show of doing a backstroke or something–but no, he was in the water and he was staring so he had to come out now. Hanzo brought his head up out of the water and took a deep breath. “Very well, Genji,” he muttered under his breath, wading towards the shore.
—
“See?” said Genji putting his hands on his hips, “I told you he’d be happy to join us.”
“So you really had to drag him out here, huh?” McCree smirked, mindlessly chewing on his popsicle stick.
“I didn’t have to drag him–he actually does like the beach. He was always better at fishing than me,” said Genji.
“Sure. Ten bucks says he’s going to fake being caught up in a riptide before he…” McCree trailed off as Hanzo got out of the water, “comes…” Water was dripping down the dip of Hanzo’s collarbone and glistening over the curve of his pecs, “Over.” The last word fell out of McCree as a murmur, an afterthought as Hanzo brushed water from his brow and swept his hair up off the back of his neck, revealing a freshly-shaved undercut. The sun glared off the water’s surface almost blindingly behind him, leaving the silhouette of his body outlined in blazing gold and greenish-blue, Hanzo’s eyes were downcast–apparently he was attempting to look as casual as possible in coming out of the water, but the result was an inadvertent visual homage to every 80′s movie slow-motion coming-out-of-a-pool scene. With his hair swept up, Hanzo wrung his hair out, sending more water dripping down onto his shoulder muscles and running shining down the lines of his torso, dancing along his ribs and obliques.
The popsicle stick fell out of McCree’s mouth and landed in the sand. Mercy gave a glance down to the popsicle stick then up at McCree, still staring, utterly transfixed.
The dragons tattooed on Hanzo’s arm shifted with the muscles of his arm as he tied his hair back in a not-quite bun and he circled his arm in its socket as he closed the distance between himself and the group, his eyes now focusing on them. Genji said something that sounded like ‘How’s the water’ and Hanzo responded with what McCree assumed was ‘Good’ or some equivalent, but if McCree was being honest, whatever they were saying was blurred out of his conscious mind by the extremely distracting visuals of droplets of water running down the contours of Hanzo’s chest and abs. Hanzo dug through one of the pockets of his Hokusai wave-printed swim trunks and took out a strip of white cloth, twisting it and tying it into a headband to keep a stray bang of hair from his face before he made eye contact with McCree and said something.
“What?” said McCree.
“I said ‘Do you have a towel?’” said Hanzo.
“Yeah,” said McCree, still staring.
A long pause passed between them.
“…may I have a towel?” Hanzo asked after some time.
“Oh!” McCree snapped out of his haze, “oh–yeah just–” he looked around, and saw Torbjörn holding up a spare towel. Hanzo reached out for the towel but McCree grabbed it first and then caught himself at how awkward that just was, “Sorry-just–” he stuck the towel out to Hanzo and Hanzo hesitantly took it. Hanzo ran the towel over himself briskly, pressing his face into it and getting under his arms. McCree didn’t really realize he was staring again until he felt Brigitte’s eyes on him and he snapped out of the stupor. Brigitte snorted and McCree made sharp eye contact with her, but she just sipped her beer to suppress a laugh and glanced off before digging through the cooler.
“I…” Hanzo cleared his throat, “To be honest, in spite of how aware I was of the proximity of the sea, it did not occur to me that the Watchpoint would be so close to a beach.”
“We forget about it all the time, ourselves. Overwatch is busy like that. Popsicle?” Brigitte offered.
Hanzo warily took the popsicle and unwrapped it. “Thank you,” he said, blue raspberry already dripping onto his fingers.
“Speaking of the Watchpoint, we were just discussing sleeping arrangements now that you’re on the team,” said Mercy.
Hanzo broke off the end of his popsicle in his mouth. “They’re subject to change?” he tilted his head.
“Well the thing is, is that both you and McCree are in the dormitories, which while, yes, they do have all the amenities, are dormitories, and there’s one administrative apartment left.”
“We don’t need to talk about this now–” McCree cut in.
“You could take the apartment,” said Genji, looking at Hanzo, “We could be neighbors!”
“That’s hardly fair to those who have been living here for some time,” said Hanzo, “McCree should take it,” Hanzo gave a glance back to McCree, “I know you were concerned you would just ‘trash the place,’ but your teammates obviously value you, so you shouldn’t downplay your—”
“We’ll play it by ear,” McCree blurted out.
Mercy knew she could push for an actual resolution on the matter, but noting McCree’s face she decided not to.
“You said I was on the team,” said Hanzo, looking at Mercy.
“Well your probation is over,” said Torbjörn.
“But we don’t have to worry about missions right now,” said Brigitte, tossing Hanzo a beer can, “Right now, it’s about relaxing, and taking a breath.”
“Hm,” Hanzo gave a nod. “I…” he started and then cut himself off.
“Yes?” said Mercy.
“I know… my coming here has disrupted a lot of things, but… it… it does mean a lot to me to get to know all of you.” Hanzo awkwardly bit off more of his popsicle then.
“Han–” Genji started but McCree cut him off.
“It means a lot to have you here, Hanzo,” said McCree.
Everyone’s head swiveled towards McCree.
“Because… you’re… Genji’s family,” McCree tacked on awkwardly, “It’s good to have family here. You two know all about family, right?” said McCree gesturing at the Lindholms.
Brigitte and Torbjörn just stared at him and nodded awkwardly.
“Don’t worry about disrupting things,” said Mercy, swooping in to McCree’s rescue in the awkward silence.
Hanzo perked up and looked at her with some surprise.
“We’re vigilantes,” said Mercy, “Disruption is a natural state for us. You should just focus on settling in.”
She felt Genji’s eyes on her and she glanced back at him and gave him a little smile. Genji squeezed around her waist a little in response.
“Thank you,” said Hanzo.
There was a brief lull in the conversation and Hanzo’s eyes trailed across the beach. He glanced past several people playing volleyball and his eyes widened.
“What?” said Genji, following his line of sight.
“Fishing pole rentals,” said Hanzo, a bit mindlessly.
“We should get one!” said Genji.
“I’m terribly out of practice—” Hanzo started but Genji broke away from Mercy and grabbed his arm.
“Come on!” he said, leading him off, “You could catch a mejina! Like the old days!”
“We’re in Gibraltar–The fish aren’t the same here–” Hanzo was protesting but let Genji drag him off.
McCree watched as they two brothers went off, the muscles in Hanzo’s back, sparkling with salt and shifting as he tried to keep up.
“You’re staring again,” said Mercy, as soon as the Shimada brothers were out of earshot.
“What?” said McCree, snapping his eyes away from Hanzo. “Who’s staring? I wasn’t– Look, I was his probationary officer. It was my job. It’s all force of habit.”
“Wow,” said Brigitte.
“What?!” said McCree.
“Wow,” Brigitte said again.
Mercy and Torbjörn just cracked open new cans of beer.
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IRONMAN 70.3 Indian Wells – La Quinta – Race Recap
* A video version of this race recap can be found on my YouTube channel here.
A triathlon is a game of contradiction.
You spend hours, weeks, months training for something that lasts moments of your life. Improve at one sport by mastering three. Train slower to race faster. Race slower to race faster. Do it alone, surrounded by people. Never see a finish line as the end.
One of the most challenging contradictions is the trap of identity. To do well, you have to immerse yourself in training for long periods of time. It can become you; consume you. And then what is objectively a meaningless act of physical exertion assumes a station in your life that it never deserved. And you are left with nothing but finish times and medals, to gather dust because nobody cares.
I thought about these contradictions a lot during my training for my first Ironman 70.3 race in Indian Wells – La Quinta California. It seemed fitting in this vein of contradiction that I would train in the cold and snow in order to race in the warm desert. I hoped that by recognizing the contradictions inherent in what I was doing, I could avoid that most challenging trap, and come away with an experience, rather than just another race.
After Musselman in July, I took a break for a few weeks, and then started training again. I had a few minor injuries, which were challenging, but for the most part my training was consistent. I did some bike fitting and got a set of aerobars on my bike. Winter arrived early in Vermont; we had snow on the ground before Thanksgiving. So most of my riding was indoors. I ran outside as much as I could. And weather doesn’t matter in the pool, of course.
Swimming was a major area of focus for me this fall. I got a second swim analysis and really worked on my technique. I was able to take another ten seconds off my 100-yard time, and by December I was swimming faster on average than I ever had.
I had also been trying to eat smarter, both to be healthier and to drop extra weight. With the help of a friend, I definitely had some success here, though it added some stress to our family routine. Kids like what they like.
I was a little concerned about flying my bike to California, because I had only done it once before and I didn’t have to assemble it myself when I arrived that time. So I broke it down and packed it up at the bike shop so I could get guidance with questions that I had and hands-on help from Darren, my friend who owns Vermont Bicycle Shop. I felt a lot more confident once it was all ready to go.
The flights were pretty uneventful, and we made it to San Diego in one piece — including my bike. One of the first things I did was put it back together; I wanted to make sure I would have enough time to solve any problems that came up. Luckily, there didn’t seem to be any and the assembly went pretty smoothly.
The Catamount, my custom Orbea Terra, ready to ride
We spent a few days with my brother’s family in San Diego, hiking at Torrey Pines and playing on the beach. It was a nice way to get acclimated to the environment. It wasn’t as warm as I thought it would be, but it definitely was a lot warmer than Vermont. Locals on the beach were dressed in winter coats and hats, but our girls thought it was the perfect weather for swimming in the Pacific.
Before long it was time to drive to Indian Wells. The amazing scenery on that drive took us all by surprise. We stopped for a moment but the day before the race was very busy so there wasn’t a lot of time for sight-seeing.
After getting the family settled at the hotel, I had my first Ironman athlete check-in experience and got to see the pro panel, which included the eventual race winners Lionel Sanders and Paula Findlay. I checked my run gear in to T2, a little overwhelmed by the enormity of the transition area. Then it was time for a half-hour drive to the swim start and T1, to see the swim course, check in my bike and decontaminate my wetsuit before hanging it on the racks where it would stay until race morning. I made sure to mark it well so I wouldn’t have any trouble finding it.
My day would have gone quite differently if it hadn’t been for my teammate Lacy. She and her husband gave me a lift to the shuttle buses, which was already a great help by itself, but when she mentioned her water bottles I realized I had forgotten something at the hotel. Specifically, all of my hydration. It was still sitting in my refrigerator. They drove me back so I could retrieve them and I was so grateful. Luckily we were up early enough that it didn’t affect our day — we got on a bus with no waiting and were off to the start area.
I knew the water would be cold. The reported temperature that morning was just under 59 degrees. There was no warm-up swim. We stood in line at the rolling start for a long time before finally getting into the water. And then, finally, after everything, I was racing.
The first one or two hundred meters were tough. I was hyperventilating from the shock of the water temperature and struggling to relax and find my rhythm. I expected that, but it didn’t make it any easier. Finally I settled in, though, and found my zone. It was clear pretty quickly that I should have seeded myself further forward; nobody around me was actually swimming at the pace they lined up for. I was crawling over people all the way. My goggles half-filled with water but I ignored it since I could still see. When I finally crawled out of the lake, I had a personal best time of 34 minutes. By my watch, I had swum ten seconds per 100 yards faster than my first 70.3 in July.
As I mounted my bike, I readied myself mentally to face the biggest contradiction of the day. I had programmed the wattage target my coach and I agreed on into my bike computer, and I was going to stick to that number like superglue. The paradox of my plan was that the number was low. It was lower than I had expected. It was lower than it was at my first 70.3, and it was low relative to my power profile. It was so low that it meant I’d be doing what amounted to a zone 2 ride for the entirety of the bike leg.
The plan was predicated on the knowledge that the course was pancake flat, and that triathlons succeed or fail on the run. We would conserve energy on the bike, allowing my inertia to do most of the work, and hopefully get off the bike with enough in the tank to really drop the hammer.
So what the bike ended up being was a test of patience, rather than fitness. My heart rate stayed low, peaking only at the very start during the excitement of transition and climbing a tiny hill out of transition. I spent a lot of the time focused on avoiding drafting as much as I could, but it was pretty difficult considering that the roads were absolutely packed with riders. That forced me to surge occasionally, but it was okay because the course was so flat.
The first 20 miles flew by so fast that I was actually surprised when I saw the mile marker sign. At 30 miles I felt no worse; very comfortable and just cruising along. It was a strong contrast to my last race, where the 30 mile marker saw me doing pretty solid work. I began to get excited about the paradoxical plan as evidence in its favor continued to build. That naturally inclined me to want to push harder, but I redoubled my efforts to stay focused and in my target zone.
The highlight of the bike course by far was the Thermal Raceway, which is a private racetrack for cars that we got to ride around on. My watts went up on that section for sure, but it was a match that was worth burning. It’s a unique experience to ride your bike around a banked track with perfect pavement, designed for million dollar super cars. I had a lot of fun there.
The rest of the course was technically uphill but the gradient was so gradual, I barely noticed. I rode into T2 just 2 watts over my target. My family was cheering at the dismount line, which was a nice boost going into the start of my run.
After racking my bike and strapping on my running shoes, I started out on the final leg, to see if the contradictions would be resolved. Here I was, running in the heat and sun after training for months in the cold and snow. Here I was, having biked slowly on purpose to see if I could do a faster race. And here I was, after weeks of training at a jog, pushing my legs to go fast, and stay fast.
I have always run fast out of transition, because it takes a mile or two before my legs really feel normal and I can tell how my body is actually doing. At my first 70.3, I slowed that pace after the first aid station, feeling that I would have to conserve energy to make it through the run without shutting down. This day, though, I felt strong. I felt no such impending decline. I felt like I could hold the pace. So I didn’t slow down.
The run followed asphalt roads for a couple of miles before turning off onto a golf course, where it tracked around the greens on a winding, undulating path that was a mix of concrete, dirt and grass. There were no long straightaways, no places to hide from the course. It was highly dynamic and constantly changing.
A conclusion I had drawn from my first 70.3 was that I had been underfueled. This time, I ate and drank everything I could get my hands on during the run. I think I probably ate two or three whole bananas, a half at a time, plus several gels and all the coke, gatorade and red bull I could grab. I didn’t slow down during the aid stations; I didn’t want to lose my inertia. At one point I took a cup of ice, dumped it in my hat and packed it onto my head. The contrasts had never been more stark — at home I had been wearing winter hats to keep the snow off my head; today, I was deliberately packing ice onto my scalp.
It was a two-lap course which meant that I had to run agonizingly close to the finish line at around mile seven, only to have to turn around and do the entire thing one more time. Now I knew what to expect, though, and I knew where to push and where I could relax. Now all I had to do was hold my pace.
When the second lap of the course started to beat me, I focused on my family, waiting for me at the finish, and steeled myself in the resolve to make this all worth it. What was the point of asking so much of them, to support my training, to spend an entire day of our vacation standing around, if I didn’t make it worth it? I wasn’t going to slow down for anything.
The last couple of miles were hard and my pace started to slip a little bit, but I was still moving faster than I had ever really expected. I found my family just before the finish line, gave everybody high-fives, and then took it over the line. It was a personal best by a long margin, with personal records in every part of the race. I almost couldn’t believe it, but there it was.
If there’s one thing I learned from this race experience, it’s that you can’t always see contradictions as obstacles. Sometimes, they are puzzle pieces in a larger pattern that you can’t fully recognize until you’ve put it all together. You can’t always resist the things that don’t make sense; sometimes, you have to lean into them, make them part of your plan and see them through to the end. And that’s when you can find clarity.
We closed out our trip with a drive through Joshua Tree National Park, marveling at the natural beauty of the desert before boarding our plane to fly back into winter. With California behind us, it was time to look forward to a new year, and new contradictions.
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Wow, what a race. Except, Celtman is not just a race, it is so much more.
So please forgive me rambling…… several years ago a friend raced Celtman, I dismissed it as a crazy notion stating something about no-way on earth, what’s the point, etc, etc! To be honest, I didn’t really understand it. Also, from a personal perspective, about 3 years ago to the day of this race, I stood on the finish line of an Ironman distance and said I was never going to race that far again – it’s a bit antisocial and unpleasant! Therefore, in theory, I shouldn’t be writing this.
Fast forward to Sept 2017 and I turn up to the ‘welcome to the Tri Club’ evening at University of Stirling and stand talking to a guy called Robin who was wearing a Celtman jacket. We both thought the session was a bit rubbish and a friendship instantly formed. Robin is from the Celtman area in Wester Ross and was going to race again last year – he finished 9th!
Over the forthcoming months, basically, Robin goaded me into entering the ballot, promising to be my support if I got in. I entered and didn’t really think I would get a place, but come November, I got through. That meant there were going to be several months of committed training and preparation. You see, this is not just about it being one of the hardest races in the UK, it is also as close to a team participation effort as you get in triathlon – instead of your nearest and dearest seeing you a few times during the whole race they have to: help you out of the swim and through T1; feed, water and mechanic you on the bike; help you go from bike to run at T2; and bring stuff to an extra transition (T2a); and someone has to run with you if you make the cut off time at T2a.
What had I done?!
Luckily my better half is very understanding (or was eventually after being a bit annoyed with me) and Robin was good to his word. Support crew in place. In addition, to help me keep focussed and structured I decided to engage a coach – who is a person, but I never meet them, setting a programme around my availability via Training Peaks. Over the next few months I follow the programme as well as I can with work and travel and begin to feel pretty fit. Then I get to the tricky part….equipment. Father Christmas sorted out all of the ‘I wouldn’t buy them if it wasn’t for this race’ things. But the key thing was my bike - my TT was bought in 2006! It was a good bike at the time and still pretty reliable now, but was quite dated. After a period of ‘negotiation’, I eventually become the owner of a shiny new Giant Trinity (and eventually she got some new shoes too (from HED wheels) – after further negotiation with the holder of the purse strings!). I rode her for virtually every training ride from April.
At Easter we went to stay with Robin to recce the course, I saw the swim, swam/froze in a different loch, cycled 100mile of the bike route and we walked the mountain section. I’ve got to be honest, it was so hard it scared me! And I realised just how much more work I needed to do. I did. Am working in Portsmouth for the summer so joined Portsmouth Triathletes and got some sea swims in, then I rode Fred Whitton only 3 weeks later. I was able to get off the bike and run 10k off road, which restored some of my confidence. Over the last 6 weeks I just focussed and built. I’m not a lover of going up-hill on foot or bike and with a dodgy left ankle I usually avoid off road – but I’ve done more vertical in the last few months than I have in years and almost look comfortable on the Fells!
So, with the exception of a bit of a tight calf for a couple of weeks I managed I get to the start line having swum 76km, cycled 3309km and run 630km, since January (and no-one really cares, but I also skied 500km). Quite possibly the most committed I’ve been to any race ever. This meant that, surprisingly, I was feeling quite calm about heading north.
We decided to make a bit of a holiday out of the race so headed to Scotland a few days in advance. Got some swims and bit of a bike and drove the course in advance. Apart from the distance across the Loch looking huge and the mountains looking as menacing as they were on the recce I was ready physically and psychologically for the race. Kathryn and I spent a couple of days with Robin to prep, boxes for each transition, an ‘I’m cold’ box, nutrition, fluid and spares – all sorted and loaded into our trusty camper van. We were ready.
Now, if you aren’t too bored and haven’t forgotten what I said at the beginning, Celtman is more than just a race. This is in relation to the community, affinity/respect of the landscape/elements and with each other. In essence, Celtman is an all-encompassing extended family.
I had an idea it was like this from the way Robin described it, but it started to come to life when we met up on Wednesday evening at the bar in Shieldaig. Talking to the locals it started to become obvious that this event is an important part of the local calendar. Whilst they think we are a bit bonkers taking part, they genuinely want us to do well and enjoy what their corner of Scotland has to offer. As we head into registration and briefing on Friday, the ‘family’ shows itself we don’t see Robin for hours (and this is a repeating theme over the weekend – he’s always chatting!). On a personal level, it is all very relaxed and welcoming. No question is too stupid – even though some of my fellow competitors could perhaps have read the race manual more fully! That’s it. Time to apply numbers to bike, hat, belt and sticker up the car. Food and bed. It’s race time.
‘twas the night before race day and all through the house, it felt like everyone else was asleep but me! My calm relaxed state of mind was gone. Had a bit of a cat nap but when I pulled my ass out of bed at 2am I hadn’t had too much shut eye. Hey ho, time to focus. It was a 15minute drive to the T1, where we would collect our GPS trackers and timing dibbers. The weather forecast at briefing was fine. But this is Scotland. It was raining. In the drizzle my team racked the bike and then I said my temporary goodbyes and went to get the swim start bus at 4am. The bus journey takes about 20mins on a tiny road. As we disembarked the piper and drummers start up, in growing light of the dawn, 200 neoprene clad bodies keeping warm by the potted fires, making nervous small-talk is a slightly surreal experience.
Celtman has traditions, before the start they set fire to a giant logo and we get our photo graph taken. In addition, this edition of recognised the recent passing of a significant member of the Celtman Family, Chris Stirling. Chris had taken part several times going from novice to race winner (as well as winning other XTri events around the world). Despite being a member of the same Triathlon Club I hardly knew Chris; I had only met him when he sold me my new bike. But he spent the time while we were setting it up to talk to me about the race, tactics, pitfalls, etc – his love and passion for everything Celtman/Xtri was palpable. His untimely passing is very sad. In the half light on the shore of Loch Torridon we celebrated his life.
As time ticked down towards 5am it was time to enter the cold, salty Loch. We made our way out from the shore to the start line, 10mins, 5mins, 2mins, 1min… Go. Like all good triathlons there was a mad scramble for a few seconds while we all found our space. The route is from one side of the Loch to the other, the finish is blind for most of the swim. First head towards island 1, then spot on the white house behind island 2, then as we round island 2 head into the shore. 3400m with the jelly fish.
I got into my rhythm quite quickly and felt like I was moving fairly easily. As we went past the first island there was a little bit of swell on the water, not too much but it meant extra concentration, then we found the jelly fish – wow they are big, more solid than you think if you try to push one out of the way but actually very pretty! By this point I was largely on my own, I was aware of a couple of my swimmers to my left and right but largely we were all ploughing our own line. All became smooth again as we approached the second island, I felt I was going quite well but was a little anxious I was going to be a bit slower than my 1hr target time. As I rounded the rocks on the end of the island I found a line into the finish and kept my steady pace going. As I exited the water I felt good, and was able to get up an moving on my own (though had a little stumble). Quick glance at my watch and I’d hit my plan time. What I didn’t realise was that I was 23rdout of the water (making this probably my best ever swim).
Transition is usually my specialty! This was the first test of our team work, Robin grabbed me and guided me up transition, we had a cameraman following us too, I managed to start to get out of my wetsuit but did need some help and ended up sitting down. We had identified different laying strategies depending upon how cold I was. Went for a vest under tri-suit and cycle shirt on top, some bike mits and sealskin socks as I was ok. No problems - I’m in and out in less than 5mins (6thfastest).
Out of transition is a little hill and then there are a couple of rises round to Torridon in the first 7miles before you hit 10miles of single track road out to Kinlockewe. This is a gradual rise for 8 miles before 2 miles down to where T2 will be. I’d enough food and drink for the first 2.5hrs as it can be a problem for the support team to get up the single track road with the numbers of bikes. My high position out of the swim meant this was no problem for them, so they went off to get breakfast at mile 34. After the T2 junction there was going to be a tail wind for 20odd miles up the side of Loch Maree. The road is a false flat until we get to a decent climb before Gairloch, I put my head down and made the most of this favourable wind. I lose a few places on the road as the slow swim/fast bike guy’s get their acts together! At Gairloch we turn and head north mainly along the coast, the wind is sort of head/cross and the road starts to undulate.
Kathryn and Robin make frequent stops for food and drink. Its great, they have cowbells and just offer so much encouragement. Back to the Celtman family thing, everyone offers encouragement to everyone, it’s great as an athlete.
As the road continues to rise and fall, some just 20-40m, others up to 100m, we approach Badcaul and head into the wind. This is going to be 50+miles of straight headwind, probably somewhere around 8-10mph, there are two big climbs just before and after Dundonnell (where Tim Rice owns Dundonnell Hall). This section is all about managing my pace, I know at the end of this section there is a glorious tailwind for 24miles. I try to be conservative and but lose a few more places on the road, my team continue to yell encouragement and advice. My tummy hurts, it’s messing with my head. I stop to feed the plants (not in my plan!). After that though I feel better focussed and on the downhill where I’m going nowhere near as fast as I want because of the wind I just keep it steady. Running in the last few miles to Garve I’m just thinking about the last section and busily trying to compute what my likely time will be. At the turn, if I carry on at the pace I’m going it will be something like a 7hr 40 bike, which will put me under a lot of pressure for the blue tshirt and trip over the mountain.
I turn right, feel the wind. This is going to be great, it will be quicker. It is, I manage the last 24 and a bit miles in <1h10 – which was pretty quick for me. I take a few places back. This section basically drags uphill for 20miles at about 1-2% (with a couple of steeper bits) followed by 4miles downhill which are quite steep and fast. Adrenaline heaven. I hit T2 and I’m buzzing. 7hr 12m for the 124miles. A little behind schedule but all within range.
Although I mention losing and taking places on the road I actually have no idea where I am in the race. I didn’t ask, and Kathryn & Robin decided not to tell me! At this point I’m 28th.
Through T2 in <5mins and Robin and I start to run (well jog), and we leave Kathryn to pack up my mess. The first couple of miles are flat on a forest trail and road, before heading up 250m of vertical, some on muddy deforested hillside and then onto gravel track. We walk up the hill and I enjoy a lovely ham sandwich and some salt & vinegar crisps. Awesome lunch. We jog over the top and down to the loch, along a gravel trail back to the road. Just a couple of miles to T2a and the magic cut-off. We have loads of time and make T2a at 10h22m29s i.e. with more than 37m before the 11hr cut off. I need another call of nature, grab a cup of tea and a sandwich.
We are off to the mountain. Say bye to Kathryn and off we go. I have to admit, the euphoria of knowing I’d met my objective (subject to finishing) was a little too much, and I lost some focus. It is a 900m climb to the top of Spidean Coire nan Clach, I start steady. Robin is great, giving constant encouragement and feeding/watering me. I just have to keep moving.
However, when it got really steep, I had a bit of a psychological meltdown! I didn’t really want to go on, I would happily have turned around. I got a pretty stern talking to and then Robin went up not down. I dug in. Slow steps, hands on knees to help. I had to focus on one step at a time. Robin continually encouraging me. In no time we were on the ridge, the really difficult uphill was behind us. Robin had a chat – he knew the crew! We got a nice picture and carried on. The summit was in sight. There were no clouds, there was no wind and the big yellow sunny thing was out. It was absolutely stunning.
I guess it was a bit frustrating for Robin, but I mainly walked along the ridge on the way to Ruadh-stac Mòr, the highest point of the day at 1010m. A few people passed us and we kept passing/being passed by Geddes & Ryan – which was quite nice! Grabbed a few sweets and a few drops of water from the summit crew and then its just 1000m of descent to go.
First up is scree slope. There are two ways down, the quick way (down the centre) and the safe way (along the edge). We went the safe way. A few people went down the centre but didn’t really get too much advantage. After this we wound our way through the rock field to the Loch, around the Loch before the final mountain decent on a rough rock path. It’s not the most pleasant of runs. It was at this point the heavens opened. We just plodded on. As the path became less steep and the rock pathway more regular we started to jog. I’m not really sure how it happened, but once I started jogging I felt OK, and I just kept going. Eventually the road comes into sight, its almost a relief the last section.
Time for the victory dance. The last 8.4km are along the road, we ran the whole way in - it wasn’t quick, it wasn’t pretty but is was steady. The last mile is a little bit cruel. As you arrive at Torridon village, instead of heading straight to the village hall, to get up to 42km, the route goes out along the Loch edge before heading back into the village and up a tiny incline (that feels like a mountain) before the glorious blue arch and the finish line. I crossed that line in 15h42m0s. (7h25m53s run split). It was a bit emotional. Hugs with Kathryn, hugs with Robin. To be honest I’d have hugged anyone. And the brilliant reward for crossing that finish line…..a bottle of beer. I’ve not had a beer in months, I was looking forward to it.
We got some food, had some chats, more hugs and went to bed. I was knackered and happy. I’d made my target and would pick up my blue t-shirt in the morning. I fell asleep with a cup of tea in my hand.
When we arrived at the hall for results on Sunday morning I was pretty stunned to find out I was 33rdoverall (and although it doesn’t count for anything in this event 1stof the SuperVets!). Although I’ve put the positions in above these are from the results; I actually thought I was much nearer to the back of the field than I was – Kathryn & Robin then fessed up that they knew I was going pretty well, but they didn’t tell me in case I Iost focus. Glad they did as I probably would.
The presentation morning is part of the tradition. All athletes and supporters turn up, grab bacon butties & a cup of tea and chat about their experience amongst themselves. At 11 o’clock we were all called to order and asked to sit down on the wooden floor – for some, not the easiest with the lovely lactic flowing through our joints. We started with a little video the team had put together overnight – was totally awesome, and I featured twice (see link, I’m at 1m11 & 1m56!). The prizes followed - sunglasses, fizz and a picture to the male & female winners plus Norseman entry to 1st& 2nd. The podium got their t-shirts of blueness. Then those who had completed five, yes five, Celtmans entered the hallowed red t-shirt club – 2 new entrants this year. Total kudos to these people. The raffle and the lucky dip for guaranteed Norseman entry – I didn’t win, but I may be single now if I’d won a place!
Then a new annual award was announced. The Chris Stirling Rock Award – it recognises someone who (like Chris) encapsulates ‘the spirit of Celtman’; i.e. through their achievements, commitment, support, etc to the Celtman community. The inaugural winner is Ryan Maclean, who has participated 4 times, been a support runner (as he was this year) and provides other support/advice too.
It was then time to collect our t-shirts and head outside for the traditional group photo in front of the mountain. I have never been so proud of a race t-shirt!
The day is not complete there though….after an afternoon of R&R and packing, it is back to the Torridon village hall for an evening of alcohol (other drinks were available), music and dancing. There were many people in tartan, the celtman beer flowed well and we all talked excitedly about the race. Virtually everyone in the room got up to dance at some point. It was the most relaxed and enjoyable end to a race I have ever experienced. I especially enjoyed the version of Thunderstruck by ACDC played on the piano accordion. Amazeballs.
Before I go I need to thank two special people…. Robin, your energy and enthusiasm was infectious and never ending, without you I would not have finished; I have a debt of gratitude I can probably never repay. Kathryn, thank you for putting up with me week-in-week-out, I guess I need to make it up to you….holiday to my next race?
I set out to write a brief race report, but I seem to have written a short novel instead! Celtman got under my skin. I get the whole thing now. It is the most difficult one day event I have ever participated in, somehow managing to be simultaneously brutal and beautiful. But it is not just the physical challenge, it doesn’t matter whether you wear white, blue, red or didn’t make it. No-one cares. It’s about being part of the family. Thankyou CxTri, fellow athletes, support teams, race crew and the local people. #memoriesforlife
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M. Raoulee Reviews Ghost In The Shell So You Don’t Have To Suffer
I realize what day it is and that this is a hell of a time to post my first review, especially of something people are bound to have strong opinions about. I’d like to take a moment to blame the heap of studios who dumped money into this for the timing and state that this review is in fact, 100% serious. It contains spoilers.
Short Version
I bought a cup of wine before I went in. The clerk told me to enjoy the wine; didn’t mention the movie.
I took two sips out of it before the film started, resolving to save the rest for when things got unbearable. It was gone within two minutes.
I have no idea why anyone would remake Overdrawn At The Memory Bank and have Scarlett Johansson playing Aram as well as suddenly on an elite anti-terrorism force. In fact, I have no idea why anyone would remake Overdrawn At The Memory Bank at all.
The only reason this isn’t my new most hated movie is that I haven’t seen the possible previous one in a while and I think I should rewatch it before I make that determination.
Long Version
I’m reviewing this as a fan of most of the originals. You want a review from a neutral party, you won’t find it here. Ghost In The Shell was my childhood.
Additionally, I am going to speak to the racism, but please do seek out and read thoughts on the subject by people of color. Their anger needs an audience because holy shit. Just… holy shit. I’ll be editing in links and highlighting their posts on the subject. If the original ran without them, I just wanted to get my anger out before it consumed me and I apologize for jumping the gun.
There are a few miniscule bright spots in this train wreck. Say, five cool shots. One of them’s of the Major storming off in a pout and turning her camo on at the same time, there’s another neat panning shot in the one apartment. Ultimately, the few well-filmed shots take place in scenes that are wrong for other reasons, so we’ll come back to them. I think the practical effects, what few there are, rock, but it’s hard to tell given the cinematographer’s dedication to not showing them.
Some of the PoC bit parts slay. Hats off to Chin Han and his amazing Togusa. I’m so disappointed I didn’t get to see more than a minute of him even though his presence and plotline in the originals speaks more to the point the writer may have been aiming for in this film. Way to not use your resources, writer. Other wasted PoC actors include Danusia Samal, Lasarus Ratuere, Chris Obi, Kaori Momoi-- stuck with one of the characters that ruins the movie but still makes her endearing af --and Adwoa Aboah whose appearance I sincerely hope gets uploaded to Youtube so everyone can see her almost salvage the Major as a character strictly by virtue of her personal awesome.
The main cast is bad. Just bad.
At first, I was pretty jazzed with the guy playing Batou because he looks, he even walks the part. Then he had to go and open his mouth. What ditch did they find that dude in and why did they not return him to that ditch with prejudice given some of that line delivery? I mean, I can see Batou’s understated done-ness posing a challenge, but there was just no excuse for this person snorting through his lines and then going WWE all over the action scenes.
The guy playing Cutter showed up with ham in his pockets; enough ham that made me wonder why they didn’t just get Christopher Walken if they wanted that much ham on set since he actually knows how to carry his meat products effectively. I don’t think Cutter was a well-thought-out villain at any point, but seriously, WTF.
Kuze has that much CG interference he can’t sell anything besides an ongoing dopey expression. Probably not his fault, but still, I think a baby deer would have done better. Why not just have Kuze manifest as a baby deer? Are baby deer that expensive? [ETA: I have been informed that they are, though I stand by my point.]
Then there’s Dr. Ouélet. I’m not judging this actress on her job based solely on the fact she’s playing the other character who has no business being in anything billing itself as Ghost In The Shell. I’m not judging this actress because of her accent. I’m judging her for playing her part like a six-year-old with a mouth full of gummi worms. If you, like most sensible people, aren’t into watching six-year-olds with mouths full of gummi worms moralize about technology, oh look, it’s another good reason to avoid this movie.
The Major. Oh, the Major. There are lines in this script, particularly shoved in her mouth, which cannot be delivered well. And they’re really obvious. If this actress was going to gank this part it was her fucking duty to speak up about this awful shit and she clearly did not. The one moment of good chemistry she has with Batou looks and sounds like a goof they left in. The scene with Adwoa Aboah is good because of Adwoa Aboah. The rest of her performance is some phoned-in nonsense. I don’t even know what she was trying to do with the character.
Not that you get to see terribly much of her. They CG her to hell and back. And not well-- in general, the CG in this movie looks cheap and rushed outside of taking people’s faces apart for shock value, though that happens with enough frequency all of its impact is lost. As for the rest of the CG, that’s especially glaring with the wide shots of the city and with the Major. The Major looks like a character from TES: Oblivion with the actress’s head plunked on top and also a bad wig. 90% of the time, that bad wig is crooked. The CG model for her body has different measurements than her actual body. No effort was made to make her appear any taller, meaning that a few shot recreations and shots in general go sideways because the Major is suddenly too short. In fact, I’m pretty sure they look bad period because her height throws things off on a regular basis. And just-- nobody thought to bring a box.
This movie cost millions and millions of dollars. It went to theaters with problems that could have been solved by boxes. Let that sink in.
Anyone who tried to redeem this film by saying it looks good has clearly never seen a movie that wasn’t shot on shitteo before. It doesn’t. The sloppy CG is only part of the problem, although let me mention how glaring it is to go from wide shots of a pristine, CG skeleton of a city to street shots which attempt to be as crowded and dirty as possible. Again, I think there are some good practical effects down here, but the cinematographer. Oh, the cinematographer.
Please, anyone who knows this asshole, take his camera away. I’m begging you. He fails utterly to grasp scale. As in, I’m not sure he realized there was a problem with the Major’s height. He doesn’t understand movement or focus. I have no idea how he’s been getting work since the 70’s. The fiveish good shots I counted appear to have been accidents or laziness. Say, the panning shot in the doctor’s apartment was probably the easiest way to shoot the scene, but it works well because it gradually reduces a conversation to the two participants and makes it personal. Or it would. If the conversation itself didn’t suck.
Here’s the thing: he had previous iterations of a lot of the shots to work from. He still fucked them up. Every single shot he lifts, he blows. It’s not even a case of things not being replicable with live actors. It’s this man needs to have a different job. There’s bullet time all up in a recreation of the fight in the wash. He puts the disappearing off of a roof shot in the middle of the day and at an incomprehensible angle. The lighting and colors are frequently just fucked up. Did I mention the chintzy CG jellyfish all up in the dive scene… which he then doubly fucks over in the second half by cutting sloppily around the Major and Batou, not that it’s possible to cut well around Batou’s actor completely missing the point of the scene and the Major somehow managing to take off her wetsuit in a stilted fashion. He can’t even be assed to show us the garbage man’s death.
Did I mention they kill the garbage man?
I nope out of movies for killing dogs, but I would rather the writer had killed the dog here than the garbage man. The whole point of the garbage man was supposed to be his perfect cinnamon roll innocence in the face of vast, complex machinations far beyond his comprehension. You would never know that from this film and it’s decision to have him be a rat bastard. You would never know, because the writer decided to use physical elements from Ghost In The Shell rather than actually retell any form of it.
The plot here is some cheap, moralizing leftovers. Saying it’s supposed to be Ghost In The Shell is just offensive. Audience, they don’t even explain how Ghost works as in-universe jargon.
There are jackasses *cough*bennett*cough* who make the argument that the plot of the original Ghost In The Shell film is sub par. I’m pretty sure the writer here watched one of their reviews, agreed, and never bothered with any of the originals outside of vague summaries, deciding in the end to produce something which does indeed have more in common with Overdrawn At The Memory Bank than Ghost In The Shell.
I would argue that the plot of the original film is a utilitarian creature. It exists so that the Major and the Puppet Master can talk and the audience gets the results of that, IE the resulting entity sitting on Batou’s couch in the child’s shell, as a going away present to think about.
In other words, the original Ghost In The Shell has approximately the same plot as a romance movie.
In other-other words, it’s actually really hard to fuck that up.
You see why I don’t think the author made any attempt to retell the first movie. I don’t even think this is a combination of the two movies and the TV series as has been claimed. The second movie’s a hot mess and can’t exist without the first one, and you can’t cram the TV series, either season, into a movie. Hell, the sequel film didn’t even quite fit.
The plot of this film is just the same corporate greed, technology is bad tripe that’s been getting shoved at the audience since the fucking 70’s. I imagine the writer flying an Acme jet over the audience and unloading a comically whistling payload of anvils. The dialogue clunks, nothing new gets put on the table; hell, nothing truly from Ghost In The Shell gets put on the table. There is no fucking point to the plot of this film, and the plot physically is not Ghost In The Shell, primarily because of the fucking anvils. Anvils are not gifts to your audience. You don’t think about anvils. They’re just there.
Running with the conceit though that this was maybe at some point supposed to be Ghost In The Shell, I have some questions. A selection: If this main character of yours is supposed to be the Major, what’s up with the pouting and helplessness? Why the fresh hell is Aramaki the only character speaking Japanese and who told you those subtitles were OK? Did anyone explain to you what the point of a Tatchikoma is and that controlling a tank with a mouse is absurd beyond that? Did anyone tell any member of the crew that the Major is actually supposed to have junk-- the lack of junk in the first movie was a censorship issue? Why is the Major the ‘first of her kind’ adapting to her new shell when in the original we got to enjoy her casually strutting around in body that was functionally leased? Why can’t her and Batou actually be friends-- was that so damn hard to write? Was it worth it to you to make Momoi’s character spout that line about Motoko ranting about technology as a child instead of something truly motherly that didn’t sound like a box of hand tools falling over? Why does Motoko need not one, but two other women who drag her through her own plot? Oh, wait. I know that one. It’s because you kneecapped her character and also, you’re a complete waste of space. You got off hammering in all of those lines about consent, didn’t you, you fucking creep?
The only shred of a prop I will give the writer is that they did possibly remember that the Major is queer.
Otherwise, between them, and the director, the audience gets… someone who isn’t Motoko Kusanagi, but who purports to be her and also gets handcuffed to a stripper pole at one point.
My father howled laughing when I told him.
You can’t use handcuffs on a cyborg in the Ghost In The Shell universe. What part of 800 pounds of metal did you not understand? What part of Section 9 exists at least in part because of shit like that did you not understand?
In conclusion, you probably saw that I just gave the Major’s name from the Japanese version.
It turns out, this Mira Killian is Kusanagi Motoko and there’s memory wiping involved and also she has to go visit her mommy and her obligatory sci-fi cat before she can… not get to ascend or grow as a character because she promised Mommy she’d come home.
I’m saying it’s not that they changed the Major’s ethnicity. It’s they literally have a white woman playing a Japanese woman. There is nothing not terrible about that.
This movie is the perfect example of fractal wrongness. It fails at everything it tries to do and on every level. It’s ugly, it’s rapey, it’s racist and it’s not Ghost In The Shell. Shame on the crew.
To quote Mina Li: so basically it would have saved them money if they just took the negatives of the original GitS and filmed themselves taking dumps onto it.
Don’t anyone else give this trash a dime. Go watch the 1995 movie or the TV series. There’s no need to suffer like I did.
Other Reviews: Rebecca Sun, Angie Han, Other Suggestions Always Welcome Because This Movie Sucks That Hard.
#review#ghost in the shell 2017#oh lord#why god why#garbage#racism#sexism#terrible movies#what the fresh hell
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IRONMAN 70.3 Indian Wells – La Quinta – Race Recap
* A video version of this race recap can be found on my YouTube channel here.
A triathlon is a game of contradiction.
You spend hours, weeks, months training for something that lasts moments of your life. Improve at one sport by mastering three. Train slower to race faster. Race slower to race faster. Do it alone, surrounded by people. Never see a finish line as the end.
One of the most challenging contradictions is the trap of identity. To do well, you have to immerse yourself in training for long periods of time. It can become you; consume you. And then what is objectively a meaningless act of physical exertion assumes a station in your life that it never deserved. And you are left with nothing but finish times and medals, to gather dust because nobody cares.
I thought about these contradictions a lot during my training for my first Ironman 70.3 race in Indian Wells – La Quinta California. It seemed fitting in this vein of contradiction that I would train in the cold and snow in order to race in the warm desert. I hoped that by recognizing the contradictions inherent in what I was doing, I could avoid that most challenging trap, and come away with an experience, rather than just another race.
After Musselman in July, I took a break for a few weeks, and then started training again. I had a few minor injuries, which were challenging, but for the most part my training was consistent. I did some bike fitting and got a set of aerobars on my bike. Winter arrived early in Vermont; we had snow on the ground before Thanksgiving. So most of my riding was indoors. I ran outside as much as I could. And weather doesn’t matter in the pool, of course.
Swimming was a major area of focus for me this fall. I got a second swim analysis and really worked on my technique. I was able to take another ten seconds off my 100-yard time, and by December I was swimming faster on average than I ever had.
I had also been trying to eat smarter, both to be healthier and to drop extra weight. With the help of a friend, I definitely had some success here, though it added some stress to our family routine. Kids like what they like.
I was a little concerned about flying my bike to California, because I had only done it once before and I didn’t have to assemble it myself when I arrived that time. So I broke it down and packed it up at the bike shop so I could get guidance with questions that I had and hands-on help from Darren, my friend who owns Vermont Bicycle Shop. I felt a lot more confident once it was all ready to go.
The flights were pretty uneventful, and we made it to San Diego in one piece — including my bike. One of the first things I did was put it back together; I wanted to make sure I would have enough time to solve any problems that came up. Luckily, there didn’t seem to be any and the assembly went pretty smoothly.
The Catamount, my custom Orbea Terra, ready to ride
We spent a few days with my brother’s family in San Diego, hiking at Torrey Pines and playing on the beach. It was a nice way to get acclimated to the environment. It wasn’t as warm as I thought it would be, but it definitely was a lot warmer than Vermont. Locals on the beach were dressed in winter coats and hats, but our girls thought it was the perfect weather for swimming in the Pacific.
Before long it was time to drive to Indian Wells. The amazing scenery on that drive took us all by surprise. We stopped for a moment but the day before the race was very busy so there wasn’t a lot of time for sight-seeing.
After getting the family settled at the hotel, I had my first Ironman athlete check-in experience and got to see the pro panel, which included the eventual race winners Lionel Sanders and Paula Findlay. I checked my run gear in to T2, a little overwhelmed by the enormity of the transition area. Then it was time for a half-hour drive to the swim start and T1, to see the swim course, check in my bike and decontaminate my wetsuit before hanging it on the racks where it would stay until race morning. I made sure to mark it well so I wouldn’t have any trouble finding it.
My day would have gone quite differently if it hadn’t been for my teammate Lacy. She and her husband gave me a lift to the shuttle buses, which was already a great help by itself, but when she mentioned her water bottles I realized I had forgotten something at the hotel. Specifically, all of my hydration. It was still sitting in my refrigerator. They drove me back so I could retrieve them and I was so grateful. Luckily we were up early enough that it didn’t affect our day — we got on a bus with no waiting and were off to the start area.
I knew the water would be cold. The reported temperature that morning was just under 59 degrees. There was no warm-up swim. We stood in line at the rolling start for a long time before finally getting into the water. And then, finally, after everything, I was racing.
The first one or two hundred meters were tough. I was hyperventilating from the shock of the water temperature and struggling to relax and find my rhythm. I expected that, but it didn’t make it any easier. Finally I settled in, though, and found my zone. It was clear pretty quickly that I should have seeded myself further forward; nobody around me was actually swimming at the pace they lined up for. I was crawling over people all the way. My goggles half-filled with water but I ignored it since I could still see. When I finally crawled out of the lake, I had a personal best time of 34 minutes. By my watch, I had swum ten seconds per 100 yards faster than my first 70.3 in July.
As I mounted my bike, I readied myself mentally to face the biggest contradiction of the day. I had programmed the wattage target my coach and I agreed on into my bike computer, and I was going to stick to that number like superglue. The paradox of my plan was that the number was low. It was lower than I had expected. It was lower than it was at my first 70.3, and it was low relative to my power profile. It was so low that it meant I’d be doing what amounted to a zone 2 ride for the entirety of the bike leg.
The plan was predicated on the knowledge that the course was pancake flat, and that triathlons succeed or fail on the run. We would conserve energy on the bike, allowing my inertia to do most of the work, and hopefully get off the bike with enough in the tank to really drop the hammer.
So what the bike ended up being was a test of patience, rather than fitness. My heart rate stayed low, peaking only at the very start during the excitement of transition and climbing a tiny hill out of transition. I spent a lot of the time focused on avoiding drafting as much as I could, but it was pretty difficult considering that the roads were absolutely packed with riders. That forced me to surge occasionally, but it was okay because the course was so flat.
The first 20 miles flew by so fast that I was actually surprised when I saw the mile marker sign. At 30 miles I felt no worse; very comfortable and just cruising along. It was a strong contrast to my last race, where the 30 mile marker saw me doing pretty solid work. I began to get excited about the paradoxical plan as evidence in its favor continued to build. That naturally inclined me to want to push harder, but I redoubled my efforts to stay focused and in my target zone.
The highlight of the bike course by far was the Thermal Raceway, which is a private racetrack for cars that we got to ride around on. My watts went up on that section for sure, but it was a match that was worth burning. It’s a unique experience to ride your bike around a banked track with perfect pavement, designed for million dollar super cars. I had a lot of fun there.
The rest of the course was technically uphill but the gradient was so gradual, I barely noticed. I rode into T2 just 2 watts over my target. My family was cheering at the dismount line, which was a nice boost going into the start of my run.
After racking my bike and strapping on my running shoes, I started out on the final leg, to see if the contradictions would be resolved. Here I was, running in the heat and sun after training for months in the cold and snow. Here I was, having biked slowly on purpose to see if I could do a faster race. And here I was, after weeks of training at a jog, pushing my legs to go fast, and stay fast.
I have always run fast out of transition, because it takes a mile or two before my legs really feel normal and I can tell how my body is actually doing. At my first 70.3, I slowed that pace after the first aid station, feeling that I would have to conserve energy to make it through the run without shutting down. This day, though, I felt strong. I felt no such impending decline. I felt like I could hold the pace. So I didn’t slow down.
The run followed asphalt roads for a couple of miles before turning off onto a golf course, where it tracked around the greens on a winding, undulating path that was a mix of concrete, dirt and grass. There were no long straightaways, no places to hide from the course. It was highly dynamic and constantly changing.
A conclusion I had drawn from my first 70.3 was that I had been underfueled. This time, I ate and drank everything I could get my hands on during the run. I think I probably ate two or three whole bananas, a half at a time, plus several gels and all the coke, gatorade and red bull I could grab. I didn’t slow down during the aid stations; I didn’t want to lose my inertia. At one point I took a cup of ice, dumped it in my hat and packed it onto my head. The contrasts had never been more stark — at home I had been wearing winter hats to keep the snow off my head; today, I was deliberately packing ice onto my scalp.
It was a two-lap course which meant that I had to run agonizingly close to the finish line at around mile seven, only to have to turn around and do the entire thing one more time. Now I knew what to expect, though, and I knew where to push and where I could relax. Now all I had to do was hold my pace.
When the second lap of the course started to beat me, I focused on my family, waiting for me at the finish, and steeled myself in the resolve to make this all worth it. What was the point of asking so much of them, to support my training, to spend an entire day of our vacation standing around, if I didn’t make it worth it? I wasn’t going to slow down for anything.
The last couple of miles were hard and my pace started to slip a little bit, but I was still moving faster than I had ever really expected. I found my family just before the finish line, gave everybody high-fives, and then took it over the line. It was a personal best by a long margin, with personal records in every part of the race. I almost couldn’t believe it, but there it was.
If there’s one thing I learned from this race experience, it’s that you can’t always see contradictions as obstacles. Sometimes, they are puzzle pieces in a larger pattern that you can’t fully recognize until you’ve put it all together. You can’t always resist the things that don’t make sense; sometimes, you have to lean into them, make them part of your plan and see them through to the end. And that’s when you can find clarity.
We closed out our trip with a drive through Joshua Tree National Park, marveling at the natural beauty of the desert before boarding our plane to fly back into winter. With California behind us, it was time to look forward to a new year, and new contradictions.
Watch the video version of this race recap:
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Summer Days pt.6
Characters: Levy McGarden x Lisanna Strauss (Levanna)- Characters from Fairy Tail by Hiro Mashima
Rating: General? Teen? I don’t know, where do you stand on fluff?
Summary: Modern AU vignettes where Lisanna and Levy spend a summer together for @filiadcorblog
on AO3
*Down on the Boardwalk- Being “tourists” for the day
Levy checked Lisanna’s handiwork. “I think the baseball cap would be better than the fedora.”
“Well okay, but the fedora really screams ‘tourist’ to me,” Lisanna said as she switched the hats.
“How do I look?” Levy asked before turning to check herself in the mirror.
“You look like the perfect example of every stereotype of a seaside tourist I’ve ever seen,” Lisanna assured her.
They were dressed in tank tops with Hawaiian print shirts over top, khaki Bermuda shorts, white ankle socks, and sandals. They topped off their look with silvered sunglasses and hats. Their visit to the Blue Pegasus Thrift Shop had yielded most of their outfits, the challenge had been to spend less than five dollars and Lisanna had enough change left over to buy the hideous orange handbag that now hung across her body.
“Let me grab my camera and then we can go,” Levy said as Lisanna continued to fidget with the purse strap.
They arrived early at the boardwalk taking ridiculous amounts of pictures as if they had never heard of the ocean or, presumably, seen storefronts before in their entire existence. Levy had reserved wristbands that allowed them unlimited access to the all the rides along the boardwalk, so they made sure to grab them right away.
They were first in line for the rollercoaster which Lisanna had begged to ride, and since she enjoyed it so much they rode it three more times. Levy insisted that Lisanna try the twirling dragon ride claiming that was infamous as the ride that will make you vomit. They took a moment to enjoy the ferris wheel and let their stomachs settle, while getting a magnificent view of the ocean. They decided to try their luck on a few of the carnival games in the arcade. Lisanna won the steeplechase game while Levy won skeeball. They racked up what seemed to be quite a few tickets, but when they turned them in found that they could get a couple of yo-yos or a tiny, stuffed cat on a keychain. They chose the blue cat. Levy told Lisanna that she should keep it as a memento of their trip to the beach. They took one last turn on the roller coaster before taking a ride on the swirling chain swings. Lisanna declared that she needed to stop turning in circles and get some lunch.
They shared an order of fish and chips with a side of fried calamari at the Mermaid Heel, a restaurant that gave women in difficult circumstances marketable skills and protection until they were able to make it on their own. Lisanna had wanted to get cookies at Makarov’s Marvelous Macaroon, but Levy begged off saying she really didn’t want to go in on her one day off this week. She promised her a better place for a sweet treat further along the promenade.
“Time for some shopping!” Levy declared when lunch was over.
She lead Lisanna into a nearby antique store and they window shopped the beautiful objects it contained, making guesses on the age of certain pieces, and questioning if something was original, restored, or faked. Lisanna insisted on having her picture taken with the dancing mascot for the Red Lizard that was out on the sidewalk to drum up attention for his store. Levy made sure to dive into the Orochi’s Fin, a surf gear shop, to check out several pieces of equipment. She asked Lisanna to model a couple of different windbreakers and some quick drying tops while she took photos. Lisanna demanded that Levy model a wetsuit next to a longboard in front of the window for her to take a picture muttering words like ‘juxtaposition of objects’ and ‘mimetic images’ as she framed the scene. A couple of doors down was the Dwarf Gear Shop and both women cooed over the tiny wetsuits and surfboards made for children. Then they had a competition to come up with the cutest beach outfit for a toddler from the items in the store. Lisanna loved the outfit that Levy put together and bought it for her niece declaring, “Evergreen will be the best dressed kid at the pool.”
“I’m craving something sweet,” Lisanna said as they walked the uneven boards. “I think I’m going to need some sugar soon,” she said not too subtly.
“Can you wait a few more minutes?” Levy asked. “We’re nearly there.”
“Where?”
“Lamia Scale Sweets,” Levy replied. “It has the best chocolate and peanut butter fudge on the boardwalk.”
“Do they have saltwater taffy?” Lisanna said as she recalled something. “I always get Elfman taffy when we go to the beach, and I’ve been missing him a little.”
“Oh they have tons of taffy flavors, many that can’t be found anywhere else,” Levy assured her. “They also have specialty candies from around the world as well as retro candies from back in the day.” She began to chuckle darkly. “They even have a corner with what they label revenge sweets. Atomic level cinnamon bears, lollipops with scorpions inside, chocolate covered ants, and truffles covered in roasted grasshoppers.”
“Oooh, sounds perfect,” Lisanna said, a mischievous smile on her face. “That will teach him to be a responsible adult and stay home to ‘work’ instead of coming to play with me.”
“Well if you need help with that, today’s your lucky day,” Levy said. “My little sister works there and there’s no one better at looking entirely sweet and innocent while internally being full of guile and deceit.”
“There’s a story behind that last statement,” Lisanna said, looking at Levy questioningly.
“I’m still not over it,” Levy said with a huff, “Let’s just say that Wendy has been the family’s reigning April Fool’s prankster for the last four years and it doesn’t look like she’s losing her crown anytime soon.”
Lisanna laughed. “I think she and Mira would get along like a house on fire,” she thought for a moment then said, “but the house would not survive.”
Levy began to snicker. “I can see the headline now ‘Fiore in Flames Thanks to Dastardly Duo’ as the world smolders around them.”
Both women were still giggling together when they walked into the candy shop.
“Levy!” the cry came clearly across the store.
Levy waved at the teenager behind the counter. She was dressed in the uniform of the store: A white shirt with frills down the front, large red bow at the neck, a black skirt that was just at knee length, and the no-skid black shoes that seemed to be standard issue in any food service establishment.
“How’s your day been going?” Levy asked.
The girl shrugged then said, “It was busy earlier, but it’s kind of slacked off now.”
“Does that mean you’d be able to help us out with choosing some particular goodies for Lisanna to send home?”
“Yeah, sure,” she said as she brightened up and came out from behind the counter. “Did you grab a basket at the front?”
“No, we didn’t,” Lisanna replied, “I’ll go get one.” She hurried to the stack of baskets.
“So?” Wendy asked. “How’s your date going?”
“It’s not a date Wendy,” Levy said quickly, “It’s just two people hanging out at the boardwalk.”
“Who paid for the ride bracelets?” Wendy demanded.
“I did.”
“And the arcade games?”
“I guess that was mostly me,” Levy admitted.
“Uh-huh,” she said with a leer. “Who paid for lunch?”
“We split the check,” Levy replied reluctantly, “but only because we shared the food.”
They watched as Lisanna stopped at a display of rainbow lollipops. Trying to decide between the various sizes available before choosing several of each.
“And just how often did you accidentally reach for the same french fry?” There was a wolfish grin on her face.
Levy blushed. “Maybe more than could be considered statistically probable,” she admitted.
“Ha!” Wendy crowed triumphantly as Lisanna rejoined them. “So, what kind of sweets are you in the market for?”
“Well I always get my brother taffy when we come to the beach, but he had to stay home and work, so I want a present that says something like ‘Thinking of you, you big lovable jar head, but don’t think I’ve forgiven you just yet for your betrayal.’ Do you have anything like that?”
Wendy chortled, “Oh I’ve got you covered. Just follow me.”
She lead them over to a corner to a barrel filled with taffy, the sign above it asked, “Do You DARE?”
Wendy began, “You are no doubt familiar with a certain book about a young man who is dramatically told that he’s a wizard.” She looked at Lisanna, “His name rhymes with Larry Gott-Her.” Wendy easily slipped into the oft repeated spiel. “There is a certain confection in the books that has an unknown taste until eaten.”
“You mean Bert-” Lisanna began, but Wendy held up a hand to stop her.
“We do NOT say that name in this shop as we are not affiliated with the author, nor the confectioners that have been licenced to sell the less magical version to the common consumer, thank you.” She gestured to the candy behind her. “This barrel contains a mix of look alike taffies, but I assure you they do not taste alike. So now, intrepid explorer, a challenge lies before you. Glory and cavities await, but...DO YOU DARE?” She stopped her presentation with a flourish in the barrel’s direction while Levy and Lisanna gave polite golf claps.
Lisanna looked at the candies, “Is there any way to know what's what?”
“Not really,” Wendy answered. “We can give you a list of the flavors we use, but that's about the best we can do. There's new batches made every hour and the flavors and colors are randomly selected so the reds you get today that turns out to be grape or lime flavor, are not going to match the reds tomorrow that might be grass or chili pepper.“
“That sounds ingeniously devious,” Lisanna said.
Wendy smiled, “Thank you. I got a big bonus for coming up with the idea.”
“I told you she's not to be trusted where pranking is involved,” Levy said.
“On the contrary, she's just the woman for the job,” Lisanna argued. “I told her the situation and she had the exact solution I needed. How much do you think I should get?“
“Probably two or three of each color, they try to make sure there's two different flavors per color, if not more,” Wendy informed her.
Levy helped her sift through the candy while Lisanna recounted their day. “Oooh, show her the pictures while I look around at what else they have here,” she said as she eyed the consumer warning on the Habanero Hot Cinnamon Bears.
Wendy waved them out of the store twenty minutes later grumbling under her breath, “Not a date? Whatever.”
They made it to the far end of the boardwalk just as the sun reached the horizon and decided to head back to the car. Levy suggested that the sky ride would get them back quicker and let them sit for a bit. Lisanna looked through her bag from Lamia Scale for something unique for them both to try. Levy had sampled most of the candies, sometimes unwittingly, but finally Lisanna found one.
“It’s a new candy meant to seem retro,” Lisanna said as she opened the package.
“What’s it called?”
Lisanna blushed before saying, “Love Potion No.9.”
“Oh?” Levy laughed. “I’ve never tried that one before.”
“Well here’s your chance,” Lisanna said holding the box toward her. “But,” she waggled her eyebrows, “Do you dare?”
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Higher education And Currently being Homesick
Know university student wellbeing histories. Look at for any bronchial asthma challenges. Guantee that not one person is allergic to any plant you might use. Allergic reactions can manifest by themselves as skin rashes, respiratory troubles, hay fever, vomiting, bleeding. In the backyard garden, learners could possibly have allergies to peanuts, mould, dust, pollen, leaves and bug stings. Retain youngster crisis playing cards along with you for reference.
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What do you need to do a triathlon?
skeeze / Pixabay
A friend of mine is interested in getting into triathlons (yay!) and he asked me what things you need for a triathlon. I gave him a few tips, but it got me thinking. What things do you need to do a triathlon. And I’m not talking about the intangibles, like grit and determination and a bit of crazy, I mean the actual stuff. So I’m going to break it down into some categories for you: Needs, Definitely Nice to Have, The Next Level, and You Don’t Need This, But It’s Cool.
Needs
Something to swim in
Bike
Bike helmet
Clothes to wear on the bike and the run
Shoes to bike and run in*
Bike hydration method
*I guess technically, if you’re a barefoot runner, you don’t need run shoes, but you will still need shoes while on the bike, so put something on your feet.
You don’t need to have clipless pedals or special bike shoes. Those will appear in the next section. Your bike doesn’t have to be fancy. It can be a road bike or a hybrid bike or even a mountain bike. Whatever you have, that works. I have seen people racing on cruiser bikes.
What about clothing? At triathlons geared towards beginners, you will see everything. Wear what works for you. Some women will do the entire race in a what is essentially a bathing suit (including elites). I am not one of those women. You will see ladies get into the swim in a bathing suit, then pull on shorts in transition. It’s an option, but I would worry about chafing. At the bare minimum, for women, I would recommend a pair of triathlon shorts, a sports bra, and a shirt to put on at transition. For men, I would recommend the same, minus the sports bra.
What are triathlon shorts? Basically, they are spandex shorts with a bit of padding in them. Not quite as much padding as bike shorts. They’re designed so you can swim, bike, and run in them. If you tried this in bike shorts, the padding would fill up with water on the swim and be quite uncomfortable, and you would feel like you were wearing a diaper on the run. Technically, you can wear whatever shorts you want, but I would very much recommend tri shorts.
In most triathlons, you will find water stops on the run course. Sometimes you will find them on the bike course, sometimes not, but either way, you’ll want to have some sort of hydration plan for riding the bike. This doesn’t have to be fancy. A bottle in a water bottle holder. If you struggle to pull out a bottle on the bike, wear a Camelbak or similar hydration device. Hydration is very important.
Definitely Nice To Have
Tri Kit
Socks (for me – others will disagree)
Clipless pedals
Bike Shoes
Sunglasses
Hat
Chamois Cream to prevent chafing
Flat Repair Kit
A tri kit is either a two piece or a one piece outfit that is designed so you can wear it the entire race. You know what’s hard after getting out of the swim? Trying to pull a shirt on to your wet body. If you wear a tri kit, you don’t have to worry about changing at all during the race.
You don’t have to ride or race with a flat repair kit, but I really recommend it. If you’re out for a ride and you get a flat tire, you’re going to need to fix it, right? Sure, you could also just call for a Lyft, but that’s not going to work in a race. So I recommend getting a repair kit and learning how to use it. I will talk more about this in a later blog post (and if you’re local, will be doing a flat clinic in July).
One thing that scares a lot of cyclists is clipless pedals. These are confusingly named – they’re called clipless because they don’t have toe clips (which are really old school). However, you do clip your shoes into the pedals. So you have special bike shoes with a very hard sole that have a cleat on the bottom. This cleat will attach to the pedals so that while you ride, you get the full force of motion from your legs. You’re not just pushing down, but you’re also pulling up. It’s amazing how different riding feels. Will you fall over? Probably. From a complete stop. Usually in front of people. But you will mostly just hurt your pride.
The Next Level
Aero bars
Wetsuit
If you’re taking your racing to the next level, you might want to have aero bars put onto your road bike. This lets you ride in a much more aerodynamic position. You will see lots of people without them, but it’s an inexpensive addition to your road bike.
I struggled with where to put “wetsuit” on this list. Technically, you can be a triathlete and race multiple times a year and never ned a wetsuit. They’re only absolutely needed when the water is exceptionally cold, making the race wetsuit mandatory. You can just avoid those races. But there are also races where the wetsuit is an option. In these cases, I like wearing my wetsuit. It adds buoyancy, and “free speed,” as my coach calls it, plus it makes the cold water seem less awful.
You Don’t Need This, But It’s Cool
Tri bike
You will see lots of triathletes with really cool bikes. And you know what? Every single one of them wants a newer and cooler bike. You see, the proper number of bikes to own is n+1, where n is the number of bikes you currently own. Tri bikes put you in a more compact, more aerodynamic position. The geometry lets you use your leg muscles in a way that helps save your legs for the run. It’s not a requirement by any means, but if you’re in the sport for a while, eventually you’ll find yourself looking at tri bikes, doing the math, crunching the numbers, and deciding if it’s for you.
There are plenty of things that triathletes use that aren’t on this list: Sunscreen (wear it), towels, different little products that people use on the various legs of the race, but these are some of the big things that came to mind, things that people need or wonder if they might need.
Anything I missed or miscategorized?
The post What do you need to do a triathlon? appeared first on Elbowglitter.
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