#Nice Abs Gob

[thedissociatives]

10 songs 10 people ! tagged by @whitenikes thnx :) hope i got this right (also i definitely do not have 10 ppl to tag lol but i'll try to get as close to that as i can)

without me by eminem - used to listen to this whole album in the car with my mum all the time when i was like 3 lol one of my fav songs that she showed me

stuck in the middle with you by stealers wheel - have had this stuck in my head for like a month it's so bad. do not even need to say where i first heard it we all know

love from the other side by fall out boy - was so hyped for this to come out cuz i knew it meant a new album and it did not disappoint ! fav fob song they've released since ab/ap cannot wait for the album

don't dream it's over by crowded house - yeah yeah yeah i get half my music taste from films and tv what about it. heard it on the americans in october when i watched like the whole show in a month and now it's on most of my playlists

break by fugazi - one of my fav songs when i was 14 that i rediscovered recently. don't have the best memories tied to it but now i can create new ones w it instead :) cuz i haven't rlly listened to much of em the past few years and i can't let a bad time stop me from enjoying music i like

i can tell there was an accident here earlier by saosin - my all time fav band and their fav song of mine ! remember having to go on youtube for ages to listen to it before they put it on spotify. ngl the demo sounds way better the vibes just aren't quite the same on the spotify version

bathroom light by mt joy - i guess i couldn't escape the nolan patrickification of hockeytwt haha i do rlly like them now tho (want to see them when they play london next summer but 1. it's the day after my exams finish and i'll be too tired and 2. i don't have anyone to go with)

one way or another by blondie - mean girls my beloved <3 sorry to literally everyone but that's where i first heard this song. the soundtrack of that film is so good tho i'm glad this is on it otherwise idk how i would've found it

я сошла с ума by tatu - poppy's cover of the english version of this song is one of the best covers out there imo but nothing beats the original. it hits so different in russian too even though i don't understand most of it (but the bits that i do ? omg)

i hear you calling by gob - think this song is on an old chel soundtrack which is cool. one of the many bands i got into through looking at old tour posters (eternally grateful i figured out i could do that when i was 12 i've found so many good bands this way). this whole album is fuckin amazing but the guitar riff in this song is soo nice. always gets stuck in my head

(@smolpieceoftoast @memphisbelle @fagdeniro @fiftysecondstreet @emuchipmunk @rocket-eighty-eight plus like. anyone else who wants to do this)

[fickle-tiction]

Birthday Tickles

Brucie Wayne's birthday is considered a big deal within his social circle. Every year he throws a HUGE party the weekend of, and everyone who's anyone shows up. He's never not on the cover of a tabloid the following morning. He's used to it, but he hates it. Sometimes he regrets making up his Brucie Wayne persona, but he knows that it's a necessary evil if he wants to take that extra step to make sure no one ever connects him to the batman.

Bruce is dreading thinking about the party he has to attend this weekend (because, let’s face it, Alfred is the brains of the operation and is the one actually throwing these parties) when he heads into the Hall of Justice. If he didn't spend his nights perched on top of buildings, waiting in silence to hear any sign of crime in Gotham, he wouldn’t have noticed the soft shushing coming from the other side of the meeting room doors. He stops just outside of the doors and strains his ears, noting the suspicious lack of sound coming from the other side of the door. The league is never this quiet. Bruce is bracing himself for a fight, uncomfortably aware of how vulnerable he is without his suit on, when someone let's out a huff on the other side of the door.

"B, you're ruining the surprise. Get in here!" Clark calls out. Under normal circumstances Bruce would scowl and complain about Clark using his x-ray vision on him, but he’s too distracted to care.

Surprise?

‘Oh, please tell me they didn’t.’

Bruce spins on his heel, ready to hightail it out of the manor when Clark speaks up again. “Don’t make me come get you.”

Bruce glares at the door, knowing Clark is watching him and can see it. He waits a few seconds, trying to gather his sanity, before slowly pushing the doors open. He blinks, unmoving, as he’s met with a face-full confetti, courtesy of a smirking Arthur, and shouts of “Surprise!”

Bruce spits out a small mouthful of the brightly colored paper as Diana comes over and wraps him in a hug. “Be thankful, I talked him out of the glitter.” She whispers into his ear, reveling in the amused huff Bruce lets out. It’s almost enough to make up for the fact that he makes no move to hug her back, arms hanging stiffly at his sides.

“Guys, you shouldn’t have.” Bruce says, dead-pan, as Diana releases him. It’s at that moment that he notices the party hats rapidly appearing on everyone’s heads. Bruce glares at the empty air in front of himself just as Barry skids to a stop, party hat clutched in his hands, eyes wide.

“.....Happy birthday?” Barry offers, holding the hat out to Bruce with a hopeful smile on his face. Bruce continues staring at Barry in silence, secretly amused at the way the kid’s eyes start darting around the room, as though he’s plotting his escape. 

Just when Barry starts to stammer and take the hat away Bruce reaches out and takes hold of it, effectively shutting the speedster up. “Thank you.” He says dryly, holding the hat in his hands. Upon closer inspection he realizes it’s a justice league themed party hat, the kind stores recently started carrying for kid’s birthday parties, and it’s almost enough to make him laugh, his mouth quirking up to one side against his will. Barry’s eyes go even wider at his smile and he melts back into their small crowd of friends.

“There is no meeting, is there?” Bruce asks Clark, just before he’s enveloped in yet another superpowered hug. What was it with people and hugging him today? Was he losing his menacing edge in his old age? 

“Nope!” Clark said, giving Bruce’s stiff form an extra squeeze before laughing and letting him go. “Gosh B, don’t enjoy yourself too much.” He teased, clapping his friend on the shoulder despite Bruce’s narrowed eyes at all the touching. Clark and Diana knew better than anyone that Bruce didn’t actually mind all the touching, he was just bad at reciprocating it so he tended to act like he didn’t want or need it. 

Bruce looked at Clark for a few more seconds, as if studying him, before directing his attention back to everyone else. “Thank you.” He said, somehow sounding more sincere this time even though he was still somewhat stiff. “This is...really nice.” And then, as if this wasn’t bizarre enough already, a small smile made it’s way onto Bruce’s face. “But if you come near me with glitter,” He added to Arthur, smile still on his face despite his threatening words. “I will end you.”

~~

The six of them are soon joined by Alfred, who comes in bearing a cake in the shape of the bat symbol. Bruce gives Barry a lopsided smile and a heart attack assuming correctly that it was once again his doing. He scowls his way through a round of off-key “Happy Birthday” and maintains steely eye contact with his amused butler as he blows out the giant question mark candle.

“I feel like we’re forgetting something.” Clark’s smirking as he says it, which is never a good sign. Clark making eye contact with Diana, who is wearing a matching mischievous expression is even worse.

“Birthday punches?” Barry asks, eyebrows furrowed as he licks the last of the icing off his spoon. Judging by their expressions, he’s clearly not in one whatever Clark and Diana have planned.

“A punch from anyone here would end Batsy’s life.” Arthur was smirking at Bruce’s scowl, enjoying teasing the stoic man. “A birthday tickle would probably suit him better.”

“You want to try it and find out?” Bruce asked, voice light but his body stiff as Arthur chuckled and ate another bite of his cake.

"Boys.” Diana called out, and you could practically hear the eyeroll in her voice as she did. Bruce glared at Arthur for a few more seconds, making a mental note to spar with him soon and put him in his place, before looking over at Diana and Clark. 

“Your present!” Clark said, practically vibrating with excitement as he held a neatly wrapped package out to Bruce. 

“Oh.” They actually managed to surprise Bruce; he hadn’t been expecting a party, let alone a gift. “Thank you.” He fought down the sappy smile that tried to make it’s way onto his face, angling his head down so no one could see it as he began carefully unwrapping the box in his lap.

“OhMyGod” Barry groaned, gaining Bruce’s attention. “Just tear it!”

Just for that, Bruce went even slower, peeling each piece of tape off and making sure not to tear the shiny black paper it was wrapped in. He could see Barry literally vibrating out of the corner of his eye, and it was endlessly amusing. Once he carefully unwrapped what turned out to be a plain black box, Bruce balled the paper up and whipped it at Barry’s head. Barry reflexively caught the ball of paper and pouted at the smirk Bruce was sending his way.

Bruce opened the box, took one look at the contents, and slammed the lid back down. “Thanks.” He said flatly, narrowing his eyes at Clark and Diana’s twin looks of evil glee. 

“Master Bruce, show everyone what you’ve got.” Alfred chided, smiling wide at the betrayed look Bruce sent his way.

“Traitor.” Bruce scowled, even as he opened the box back up. He gave Clark and Diana one more dirty look before he pulled six neatly folded t-shirts out of the box. 

The top shirt was designed to look like the top half of Wonder Woman, so when he put it on it’d look like he was wearing a bad costume, exposed skin and all. Beneath that was a shirt that looked like the top half of Superman’s costume, complete with fake abs. There was one for each of their superhero personas; even Victor laughed when he held up the Cyborg shirt.

~

All in all, Bruce is a surprisingly good sport throughout the small party. His hat remains untouched on the edge of the table, but no one mentions it. His shirts found their way back into the box they came in, but unlike the hat they’d be going back to the lake house with him. Not that anyone needed to know that.

Alfred excused himself to another room as the party wound down, and Victor nodded his good bye. Arthur clapped Bruce on the shoulder as he left, harder than was strictly necessary, and oh Bruce was going to wreck him in a sparring match pretty soon. 

Barry approached Bruce next, smiling nervously, his hands twitching at his sides as if he didn’t know what to do with them. “Bye Bruce--uh--happy birthday!” He stammered, making an aborted motion to clap Bruce on the shoulder like Arthur had, his hand darting back down to his side before it made contact. Bruce’s mouth twitched up into another rare smile before he reached out and wrapped Barry in a quick hug.

Bruce simply said “Thanks.” as he pulled back, almost losing his composure at Barry’s gob-smacked expression. The speedster mumbled something unintelligible before streaking out of the room.

“You have to stop messing with him.” Clark laughed. “You’re going to give him a heart attack.”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.” Bruce said innocently, sitting on the edge of the meeting table since it was just the three of them left. “Thanks for this.” He added, a soft smile on his face as Diana came up and leaned a hip on the table next to his knee. “It was nice.”

“There was one part of this party I did not understand.” Bruce was instantly suspicious of Diana’s tone. That was her “I’m going to pretend to misunderstand something so I can mess with Bruce” voice. A voice he’s heard way too many times. “What are ‘Birthday Tickles’?” 

And now Clark was standing on Bruce’s other side, and they were effectively boxing him in. His only escape would be to climb over the large meeting table, which would be ridiculous and undignified. 

“That’s not a real thing.” Bruce said, valiantly resisting the urge to fold his arms over his chest.

“Really?” Diana asked, her hand coming to rest lightly on Bruce’s knee. “Arthur seemed so sure of it.”

“You wouldn’t happen to be ticklish, would you Bruce?” Clark asked, looming over Bruce with a mischievous smile on his face.

“What do you think?” Bruce asked, forcing himself to stay still even as Diana’s fingers gently danced around his kneecap.

“I think...” Clark’s hand had found it’s way to Bruce’s right knee, and Bruce was regretting sticking around for his own birthday party now. “You forget that I can hear your heartbeat.” 

Bruce slowly met Clark’s eyes and knew that he was screwed. His heart was pounding wildly in his chest, the only sign that he was nervous. There were a few seconds of absolute stillness from the three of them, before all hell broke loose.

Bruce tried to throw himself backwards over the table he was sitting on, dignity be damned. As soon as he tried to make a move Clark and Diana simultaneously each grabbed a thigh and dragged him back towards themselves. Before he could really register what was happening, Bruce found himself laying on his back on the table, his legs dangling over the edge, shirt riding up and four hands wiggling all over his torso.

“This-is-so-childish!” Bruce ground out through clenched teeth, trying to catch the fast-moving hands. Because his legs were bent over the edge of the table and couldn’t reach the ground, he had no leverage and thus couldn’t go anywhere. 

“We wouldn’t be forced to do this, if you just smiled more.” Diana said, as though it were a travesty that Bruce forced them to tickle him.

“Yeah B, you brought this one on yourself.” Clark was trying to sound sad, but he had a huge dorky smile on his face and it was ruining the affect. 

“M’not even ticklish.” Bruce protested, squirming away from Clark’s fingers that were being lightly dragged over his bare side. 

“If you weren’t ticklish you wouldn’t be fighting this hard.” Clark pointed out, trying to find the spot that would crack the bat.

“Shut up.” Was Bruce’s oh-so-original comeback. He jolted when Diana pinched the muscle above his left knee, reflexively sitting up slightly to knock her hands away.

“We’ve got him.” Diana grinned triumphantly.

“Don’t--!” Was all Bruce could get out before Diana and Clark both started pinching and squeezing the muscle above his knee. He clamped his mouth shut, trying to keep his laughter in as Clark gently squeezed his way up to the muscles in Bruce’s thigh. That, coupled with Diana switching to tickling under his knee had him breaking in no time.

“Guys!” Bruce laughed as Clark pushed him back onto the table with one hand, as his other hand kept up it’s steady and gentle massage of his thigh muscle. “Guys! G-hahahahahaha-guys!” Bruce babbled, head thrown back as laughter was forced from his throat. “Kn-hahahahaha-knock it ohohohohoh-off!”

“I thought you weren’t ticklish.” Diana smirked. Taking advantage of the fact that Clark was holding Bruce down with one hand, she gently wiggled her fingers up Bruce’s thigh and over his hips. When she got to the delicate skin just above Bruce’s hipbones he squeaked, earing them some extra attention.

“Th-hihihihihi-this is bullsh--hihihihihi--it!” Bruce laughed, trying to fight against Clark’s hand on his chest as Diana teased and tickled the very bottom of his stomach.

“What’s wrong B?” Clark asked, alternating legs as he switched from gentle squeezes to light wiggles of his fingers. “Something bothering you?”

“He’s not ticklish, so it can’t be that.” Diana was now tickling slowly but steadily up Bruce’s sides, making her way under his shirt and tormenting bare skin.

“I ha--hahahahahaha--te you both!” Bruce cackled, cheeks turning pink as Diana used her nails to lightly scratch over every bit of skin she could reach.

“Well that’s not something someone who wants mercy should be saying.” Clark smirked, quickly abandoning Bruce’s legs to latch onto his hipbones. Bruce nearly shot off the table the second Clark’s hand left his chest, but he couldn’t push past the two of them hovering over him.

“Do you think his feet are ticklish?” Diana asked, trying to wiggle her fingers beneath Bruce’s tightly clamped down arms. 

Bruce started shaking his head back and forth, laughter nearly silent as Diana finally managed to poke her fingers into his uppermost ribs. He had no idea if his feet were ticklish, but judging by the rest of his body, he was sure they would be. “Nonononono.” He mumbled, laughing and trying to curl his body inwards to protect himself from their assault.

“There’s only one way to find out.” Clark said happily, dancing his fingers back down to Bruce’s thighs.

“Nooooo! Please!” Bruce laughed, eyes flying open (Hello, when did they even close?) “Ple--hehehehe-ease! Please!”

“Oh my.” Diana laughed, surprise written on her face as she stopped her assault on Bruce’s ribs. “I think we’ve broken him.” She commented, noting Bruce’s pink face and wide smile.

“Did he just say ‘please’?” Clark asked in disbelief, also stopping his torturous squeezes. “I don’t think I’ve ever heard him say that.”

Bruce’s body might feel like one giant exposed nerve, and he might be completely worn out from all that laughter, but he still managed to flip Clark the bird.

“Oh, so you do want me to try your feet?” Clark, asked, grabbing hold of Bruce’s calf to raise his foot into the air.

“No!” Bruce shouted, shooting into a sitting position as he tried to yank his leg back.

“Oh, they must be bad.” Clark said gleefully, letting Bruce snatch his foot back. He couldn’t help but laugh at the glare the billionaire was sending his way. Bruce was sitting criss-crossed on the table, arms drawn into himself, cheeks still pink, his hair a mess. 

“I don’t know if they are.” Bruce admitted, having caught his breath. “And I don’t want to find out.” He added quickly, as Clark and Diana shared another evil smile.

“Fine.” Diana said, straightening her clothes. “We’ll save it for next time.”

“Next time...?” Bruce asked warily, resisting the urge to scoot himself to the middle of the conference table and out of their reach.

“Next time.” Clark agreed happily.

“There isn’t going to be a next time.” Bruce growled, but the effect was ruined by his messy hair, pink cheeks and rucked up shirt.

Clark and Diana just shared another smile that Bruce was learning to hate. He’d have to start wearing the suit to meetings from now on.

[blessuswithblogs]

Video Games are a God Damned Mess: Bad Business Practices, Unsustainability, and the Fidelity Plateau

(shoutouts to the anon rando in my inbox for telling me about the read more button you were kind of rude about it but i don’t use this website so i legit didn’t know)

The video game industry has always been a bit wild and wooly compared to its older contemporaries. The emergence of a new medium is always rife with upheaval as paradigms shift and people discover that the old rules don't necessarily apply all of the time. That said, the past three months have been filled with what I can really only describe as catastrophes for many disparate publishers and development studios.

 You may recall I talked a bit about this during my game of the year list and Fallout 76 analysis, but to recap: with Telltale shutting its doors and shafting its workers, the writing was on the wall for the same thing to happen again as the intrinsically unsustainable boom and bust cycle began the less glamorous stage. It turns out I was correct in my predictions but congratulating myself for seeing this coming is not unlike congratulating myself for accurately predicting that tomorrow will be Tuesday. Or. Whatever day it will be when I post this. fuck i dated the lp thread ruined LOOK the point is that this was really obviously going to happen and that nobody felt the need to prepare for it or try to stop it before 10% of Activision-Blizzard's workforce got canned is a major failure of the industry at large.

So let's talk a bit about what's happened since then. There's been a lot, so forgive me if I miss your favorite corporate implosion. First, at Blizzcon, Diablo Immortal was revealed to what actually might have been the most actively hostile reception of a game in history. This has less to do with the more financial aspects of the ongoing Videocon Crisis and more just kind of served as an ill omen and an example of Blizzard's worrying descent into... wherever it is they're going. If gross incompetence was a place, they would be descending into it. On paper, a Diablo mobile game is a money-printing proposition. When all is said and done Immortal will still probably make them gobs of cash. In practice, however, they fucked the landing so hard they probably lost potential sales. The kind of folks who go to Blizzcon and get omegahype for a new diablo game are not the kind of folks who play mobile games. Mobile games have a Stigma among the hardcore crowd, and also the Ethical Business Practices in Video Games crowd (which as of this writing appears to be me, Jim Sterling, and the Warframe devteam). For a lot of braindead gamerbros, mobile games are synonymous with things like Candy Crush and Peggle, which are perfectly fine games honestly but they're For Girls or some shit so mobile games are bad and for casuals. More pertinently, mobile games are also a ferocious jungle of microtransactions, pay2win mechanics, and generally shoddy design. Command and Conquer and Dungeon Keeper, beloved franchises that have been ripe for revisiting for years now, both found mobile games and they were both utterly terrible. These games make a great deal of their money by exploiting "whales", or in actual human being language, vulnerable people with disposable income and difficulties with impulse control or addictive personalities. Or kids who know their mom's creditcard number. Kids play video games. Now that we are no longer kids (theoretically, anyway) it can be easy to forget that. I'm not the pearl-clutching type, but I think that stigmatizing a genre of games that proudly touts an exploitative-of-children business model is probably okay.

So there are lots of reasons to be skeptical of Diablo Immortal right out of the gate, and quite frankly whoever thought that just pushing that out there with literally no other Diablo related news items (like any whispers of the long coveted hd remaster of diablo the second) was either transferred in from another company the day before or had some kind of unspeakable grudge against the scheduled presenters, to whom my heart goes out to. There is also some undeniable precedent that Blizzard-Activision will, in all likelihood, monetize the everloving daylights out of it. Both Hearthstone and Overwatch have more or less become nicely polished vehicles with which to deliver lootboxes to players for a nominal fee. If this hadn't been followed by a seemingly unceasing calvacade of disasters, the whole debacle would have been really funny to point and laugh at. It's still pretty funny to point and laugh at, but it also has some less amusing implications. Blizzard in particular has been up to a lot of no good lately. Let's talk a little bit about their recent one-two punch.

First up, we have the complete and sudden abandonment of competitive support for Heroes of the Storm. Heroes of the Storm was essentially Blizzard's seething regret and resentment for letting Valve snatch up the whole Defense of the Ancients thing put into code and unleashed upon an unwitting populace. It had actually been gaining some renewed interest over the past year or so due to the developers putting in some elbow grease and making the game both more accessible and just. More better. HotS has also had a modest but respectable eSports scene since the game's launch, with a variety of professional players, shoutcasters, tournament organizers and emergency bugfixers employed. Many of them were anxious about their jobs for months in advance with no word from the higher ups about who would still be employed by 2019. Sometimes, companies have to make difficult decisions and let people go to keep operating. Even my communist ass reluctantly accepts this as a reality of the system we live in. However, there is a protocol about this kind of thing. Giving notice. Giving, you know, severance pay. Stuff like that. And of course this presupposes that this sort of cut to the workforce is actually necessary in the first place. Given that AB subsequently reported record profits for the year of 2018, I have some doubts. Completely dropping support for a game out of the blue is a scummy thing to do to your playerbase. When it is also directly impacting the livelihood of hundreds of people in your employ, it goes beyond scummy and turns right into Unacceptable.

But "unacceptable" is Bobby Kotick's favorite word in the English language so while shoving hundred dollar bills from his latest corporate bonus up his butt he and his friends in the boardroom decided that the HotS esports people might get lonely, so they had better go and fire another 10% of the workforce too. Just because. Like literally just because. His company is doing fine - better than fine! They are at record levels of better than fine. But the shareholders demand more and more exponential growth, so to cut costs that really didn't need cutting, away goes 10%. Will game quality suffer because of this? Undoubtedly. More work being piled on fewer people who are also living in mortal fear of losing their jobs Just Because is not a recipe for success. People are mad about this, much like people were/are mad about Fallout 76 - players of games, industry wonks, and iconic voice actresses alike are no longer tolerating this kind of thing in Two Thousand and Nineteen, Common Era. Nor should they!

Elsewhere in the Game-o-sphere, similar developments are brewing. ArenaNet, the folks wot do Guildwars, went through another round of mass layoffs. EA's stocks have plummeted and Battlefield V "failed to meet expectations" because it only sold A Ton and not A Fuckin Shit Ton, and Anthem is not really lighting the world on fire. After Mass Effect Andromeda's... curious debut, Bioware has probably been feeling the heat and a lot of people are concerned that it too will suffer the ultimate fate of all studios acquired by Electronic Arts: joining Visceral Games in a broken heap at the bottom of the garbage chute. Bring back Dead Space you motherfuckers. Bethesda continues to, improbably, suffer through PR disaster after PR disaster with Fallout 76, a game that seemingly cannot stop fucking up. Ubisoft has received some positive attention for vowing to NOT lay off hundreds of employees for no discernible reason, which leads me to believe that our standards for praiseworthy behavior have dropped alarmingly low. Even 2K Games in all of its monolithic glory seems to be feeling a bit of a Stock Price Squeeze. Honestly by the time I get this done and posted it's entirely possible that somebody else will fuck something up. I'm still kind of waiting on the fallout from Randy Pitchford's porn thumbdrive, but I'm also a little bit pleased that Actual Money Crimes are getting more traction in the news cycle.

So, returning to the main point: the industry is in a bad situation of its own making. It's a scene that's almost always been defined by trend-chasing. For a while, that meant that we would just have to suffer through an endless glut of EXTREME SPORTS GAMES SPONSORED BY A DUDE or a barrage of samey console shooters desperately trying to be Halo every once in a while. Unfortunately, the trend-chasing now extends not only to the games themselves, but to the methods by which they are monetized. Ever since DLC became a mainstream thing, the brightest minds of the boardrooms have been working tirelessly to deduce which method of fleecing players will scientifically speaking get them the most money. Inevitably, when some enterprising little weasel develops a new and improved monetization scheme, the rest of the little weasels will immediately latch on to that scheme and that's how you end up with Battlefront 2's ridiculous lootbox grind and Shadow of War's ludicrous inclusion of randomized lootboxes in a singleplayer action-adventure game. While I'm certain that the platonic ideal of the lootbox has existed in some form or another for decades now, I think that we can squarely lay the blame for the Great Lootbox Plague of the Twenty-Tens at the feet of Valve.

Valve has been known for questionable business practices for a while now (albeit in a more lowkey way than We Fired 800 People So Bobby Kotick Could Buy a New Yacht), largely getting away with it because Steam has been more or less unchallenged as the premier digital distribution service for video games. This might be changing soon, as Epic Games is going straight for the jugular with a number of aggressive moves with its own fledgling platform, but historically, Valve has faced very few consequences for just kind of being petulantly antagonistic towards its userbase because said userbase is easily mollified by steam sales and Gaben memes. When people think lootboxes in 2019, they probably think of games like Overwatch or Battlefront 2 or basically any contemporary multiplayer game. I certainly do, but a bit of fact finding allowed me to remember that Valve has been doing this shit since Counterstrike and Team Fortress 2, and Dota 2's byzantine cosmetics market can't be overlooked either. All three of these games are or were at one point genre leaders and made Valve so much money they basically decided that they didn't really need to make games anymore. A reasonable conclusion to draw, given the fact all three of these games are inextricably linked to their history as very popular mods. Valve just outsources a great deal of its labor to dedicated, naive fans and gives them a pittance of the huge mounds of dollars they make from their hard work. It's a good racket, but it has set an alarmingly poor example to the rest of the gaming world.

Games as a service, in concept, is fine for games that lend themselves well to the idea. MMOs have been using a variation of the model for decades now and that genre is actually like, Perplexingly Healthy. Free to play games like League of Legends and Warframe have also had success with a service model. The problem comes from the AAA Game industry's pathological insistence on shoving square pegs into things that don't even have holes to begin with. Shadow of War, or Assassin's Creed, or any other major singleplayer offering, has no business whatsoever being a Live Service. They are finite experiences by design and that's completely fucking fine and normal. Appending microtransactions and lootboxes to them is a transparent attempt to just suck up a little bit more money from players in the most unsustainable way possible. Here is a small hint if some WB Games bigwig stumbles upon this: first of all, I'm building a guillotine, so you better watch your ass. Second, how dare you fucking make Shelob a sexy lady. Third, (this is the one that is probably most relevant): People are willing to pay as they go for cosmetics and timesavers for games that they like and want to support. I've dumped a lot of money into League over the years because there was a period of time where I was playing it nonstop and having a wonderful time for quite literally no cost to myself, so I felt like buying the cute Panda Annie Skin was a good compromise. Regrettably I would later learn that there are aspects of Riot Games I'm not super okay with giving money to but at the time they seemed agreeable and my friends who work there gotta get payed somehow. This whole dynamic of wanting to support a video game goes out the damn window when you are already charging a $60 entry fee, plus whatever highway robbery pricing you put on the inevitable DLC. In this case, the onus is squarely upon the publisher to provide an experience and content one would reasonably expect of the pricetag. Putting in microtransactions for cosmetics is galling. Putting in microtransactions for actual game progression, like in Battlefront 2 or Shadow of War, is outright insulting.

Many will leap to the defense of these publishers and developers, saying that these measures are necessary to make these ludicrously expensive and lavish AAA games that all look suspiciously like one another. For the time being, let's accept this as a true statement. If this is, in fact, the state of affairs in the industry, then the industry needs to change to a more sustainable business model. When playing Destiny 2, during a big space cutscene, the cute pilot lady ferrying me to The Large Molerat Man's Murderboat had beautifully rendered skin where you could see the pores and the little wispy cheek hairs that swayed to the momentum of the space plane's movements. It was very nice but then the next year or so I heard nothing but people pointing out "hey this game has no content you dipshits" or "the devteam is actually scamming people with the experience system to wring more playtime out of them". The cheek hairs affair succeeded in making me want the pilot to buy me dinner and regail me with stories of her space adventures as I batted my lashes at her in romantic admiration, but also: stop it. You do not need to do this. This is strictly unnecessary. The graphics arms race of yesteryear is over. Nobody cares anymore. Fidelity is plateauing harder and harder, to the point where games running properly on console without having to settle for 30FPS is becoming very difficult. There is an Earth B somewhere out there where Bloodborne was not a sony exclusive and got a PC release with 60FPS support and loading times for humans and on Earth B I am still playing that game for the forseeable future because it is the best game ever. We are far past the paradigm where we are making Tremendous Graphical Leaps with each successive generation. Right now, as of this writing, games look jawdroppingly good. Just ludicrously pretty and grandiose. Continuing to push the graphical envelope for Every Damn Annual Release is a waste of resources: monetary resources, labor resources, system resources. As of March, 2019, what people really want is stability and functionality. Something that runs nice and smooth at 60FPS and doesn't turn its characters randomly into nightmare inverse-Rayman beasts. I think the huge success of the Nintendo Switch, a console with relatively modest hardware but superb functionality, portability, and a surprisingly full featured library of both massive first party titles, like Breath of the Wild and Mario Odyssey (which honestly look better than a lot of games on more robust hardware because of wonderful art direction) and smaller indie games, is testament to this line of thinking.

Maybe that's too bold of a statement. Maybe there's this huge swath of the gaming public that is just clamoring for more cheek hairs. If there are I think they're fucking out of their minds but who am I to judge. As long as games like that werewolf game The Order exist, where the universal reaction is "this is so pretty!!! ...wait there's nothing in here." I think that there is a serious responsibility to push back against that because evidently it's bankrupting the game industry and forcing them to violate international gambling laws to stay afloat. Except it's fucking not, actually. Many publishers are claiming record profits, upward trends, and are in a spot to have the raw nerve to say "well this game that sold 7 million copies didn't sell 8 million copies so it failed to meet expectations". They are doing ludicrously well for themselves in terms of generating revenue from sales. Where these highly successful corporations are running into problems is satisfying the almighty Shareholders. Shareholders are sort of like. Imagine if you got a job where you had to keep a large committee of actual babies happy, except the babies don't know shit about fuck about anything and demand that you routinely break all reasonable laws of sustainability and keep bringing in exponentially higher profits or they will take their ball and go home. There is still, evidently, money enough to give newly hired executives million dollar signing bonuses, but when it comes to just making a game that doesn't fall back on exploiting people with gambling addictions, we're suddenly dealing with an outfit of noble, longsuffering churchmice just trying to make ends meet. People are rapidly getting fed up with this blatant hypocrisy and dishonesty. Sales from Hearthstone card packs alone could fund a robust HotS esports scene for eternity if properly apportioned. This money is not properly apportioned. It is thrown into a gigantic incinerator so Kotick can get high on the fumes.

You might be wondering what this girls' deal is with Blizzard. Surely there are more egregious offenders? Firstly, Blizzard is very relevant at the moment because they are one of the highest profile publishers to recently Do A Business Oopsie. Secondly, I live in Irvine, California. Blizzard HQ is a ten minute drive from where I live. It's a local company to me, and it's legitimately kind of hard to see it continue to go down this path because I've had friends and neighbors who have worked there and enthusiastically described the experience right up until the very moment they get canned for no reason. My alma mater, UC Irvine, is one of the leading schools in the nation on adopting eSports into their collegiate athlete program. I understand, to a lot of people, Electronic Sports (please support them) are a big joke silly thing, but to me and my family who work in the UC system, they're actually like a huge and pertinent part of professional life. I'm literally being consulted by my mom's co-workers for advice and insight on how to minimize the abusive and toxic behavior that has become synonymous with streaming and professional gaming because campus now has a huge eSports center with rows on rows of gaming computers for students to use. Games Are Big. They are a powerful cultural and economic force in the lives of millions of people and denying that because of "haha nerds" is the same shortsighted, utterly-lacking-in-self-awareness wanking that resulted in the stupendously destructive "its just the internet, it doesnt matter lol" attitude that has caused the world so much grief. That said Bart Simpson becoming an esports legend sponsored by Riot Games is still pretty lame don't @ me.

What it comes down to is this: the games industry has grown into a hugely influential and powerful institution that affects the lives of more and more people every day. However, the appropriate growth in regulation, oversight, and worker protection has not occurred and has honestly shrunk. People love to talk up Satoru Iwata because when the Wii U was floundering he took a massive pay cut and refused to lay off any staff, reasoning that "it will be very difficult for our teams to create software that will impress the world when they are constantly worrying about losing their jobs." It's a little incredible that The Baseline Reasonable Thing To Do has elicited such effusive praise, but that's the world we live in and Iwata-san was pretty alright so I'm okay with it. Both his conduct and reasoning are both solidly above reproach in this case: it is really hard to be creative when the Sword of Damocles is hanging over your head! That’s 500% true! This goes for game developers, community managers, eSports staff, support staff, literally every part of the process that matters, even the totally unrelated clerks and communications people who are still completely necessary for creating games. The only people who don't suffer are the dipshits on top who don't actually contribute to the creation of games in any way. They're still fine. Better than fine, really. That's why people are mad. That's why people SHOULD be mad. Don't stand for this anymore.

[roosterart-blog]

Not for teacher.

He didn't know exactly how he got here. Well, he did but that didn't make it any less baffling. He stared across at his unusual lunch date and recounted the past few hours.

Mike woke up that morning pretty blah. He was on vacation but all his friends had gone out of town to family. He didn't have anything productive to do and lacked the mental bandwidth to just veg on Netflix. He figured he'd hit the gym early and see where his day took him. He had a productive lift. He didn't hit any PRs but he got a nice pump. He took some pics for instagram and got dressed. It was time for breakfast so he went to a Cafe for some eggs and a coffee. He entered the shop and that's where things went awry.

Mrs. Winter the ice queen. She had been his history teacher in 12th grade. Everyone hated her she was strict to the point of cruelty. She had taken a particular interest in him, making his year a living hell. The real kicker was that at the end of the year she had married Mr. Hann his favorite teacher. Mr. Hann taught math and had opened new doors for him. He owed all of his lifetime math skills to Mr. Hann. To think that rotten bitch was with him was an unthinkable mind fuck.

It took a moment for her to see him but when she did a cruel grinch smile twisted up the corners of her perfectly painted lips. She was impossibly hot, that was for sure. She had a vicious beauty like a comic super villain. She reminded Mike of poison Ivy. Red hair red lips and a body that dropped Jaws. Mr. Hann was more like a Clark Kent. Subtle, demure, a little clumsy, endearing, and built like a truck. He always wore glasses and moccasins a button down and dad jeans. Noone knew how or why they had gotten together.

She got her coffee and walked purposefully over to Mike. She greeted him enthusiastically as if she was unaware of his seething hatred, or didn't care. She asked what he was doing and sneered a little when he told her. Gawd he just wanted to slap her, beat her, and hate fuck her into a coma. As if she could read his mind she said matter of factly, "you want to hurt me." His face must have given away his answer because she said "good, come with me."

Mike felt pulled to follow her. He wanted to walk away and never see her again but some invisible string seemed to be guiding his movement. As they left the coffee shop she said nonchalantly "maybe you can make yourself useful, you really were a poor student." FUCK!

Mike was lost in a fog of rage. He didn't remember getting in her car but here he was outside her house. The house she shared with Mr. Hann. I shouldn't be here he thought. She ushered him inside and before he could stop her kissed him deeply. He pulled away and she slapped him. His head rang as she pulled him back into her kiss. Mike violently grabbed her hair and kissed her back. He took control slamming her against the nearest wall. Her hands were all over his back clawing and pulling at his clothes. He grabbed her wrists, slammed them against the wall, and began biting her neck. She moaned and arched her back, pressing her body into his. He stepped back and spun her around. He pressed her face into the wall as he found the zipper on her dress. He unzipped it and pulled it over her head leaving her in a black lace bra and green lace panties. She kicked off her heels and he spanked her hard on her round bottom. She hopped up wrapping her legs around his waist and pointed towards the bedroom upstairs. Mike stumbled his way up and when he arrived threw her onto the bed. He took off his Tshirt, popped off his loafers, and shimmied out of his shorts. He stood there in his bikini briefs and watched her admire his athletic body. In that moment he remembered Mr. Hann. "Fuck I shouldn't be doing this" he said aloud. Mike closed his eyes and ran his hands through his hair. That's when he felt her hand.

She practically pushed him over onto the carpeted floor. She made eye contact with him, her wicked smile never leaving her lips. She rubbed him through the material of his drawers. He didn't remember ever being so hard in his life. He felt like a water balloon that was ready to burst. Just as he thought he might cum pain flooded. She squeezed his balls so hard he lost his breath. Before he could shout in pain she locked his mouth with hers. She pulled down his underwear and shifted her panties aside and amidst his pain Mike felt himself enter her. She began to ride him. Shifting up and then violently slamming down on his pelvis. His abs ached as he tried to find his breath. It was then that Mike heard the door. "Get off me" he whispered. "I think your husband is home" but that didn't stop her, in fact she picked up pace. He could feel his barriers fall and the knowledge he was about to be caught turned Mike on ten fold. He was aware of the footsteps up the stairs, heard them near the door and just as Mr. Hann entered Mike turned her over, pulled out and blew his load all over her stomach.

Mike looked up and saw Mr. Hann staring in surprise. But what was most surprising was what happened next. Mr. Hann began to unbotton his shirt. He dropped his jeans revealing that he was commando. His girthy cock flopped out like it had been held hostage in that denim cage. When Mr. Hann was completely undressed he silently got on all fours. Mike watched Mr. Hann unsure of what was going on. That's when Mrs. winter-Hann got out a paddle. He watched amazed as she spanked Mr. Hann with that paddle. He saw tears rolled down Mr. Hann's face, his smile indicating these were tears of joy. Mrs. Winter pointed for Mike to sit on the bed and watch. He obeyed and continued to watch the debacle in stunned silence. She continued to spank Mr. Hann until a drop of precum fell from his stiff cock onto the carpet. She then went to the dresser and got a large strap on. She dropped a gob of lubricant on Mr. Hann's puckered hole and entered him. She f#cked him senseless yelling profanities at him. Calling him a little bitch and a slut. Mr. Hann said nothing just groaned in pleasure. Mike. Just watched in stunned silence. He could feel his erection returning. She rammed Mr. Hann and clawed at his back till he finally shot a heaping load all over the floor.

Mike watched Mr. Hann panting as Mrs winter pulled the dildo out of his slick ass. He was surprised at how aroused he had become so soon after his last orgasm. Mrs. Winter threw the strap on aside she walked over to the bed and ordered Mike off of it, he abliged. "Fuck him" she said. "Excuse me?" Mike asked confused. "Fuck my husband," "we're not done here.

Mike had definitely fantasized about Mr. Hann before. Usually he was being passionately held by the older larger man. In his head Mr. Hann was a masculine giant a father figure. That image did not match up with the silent submissive man he'd just seen fucked to orgasm.

Mike had had fantasies about Mrs. Winter as well. Usually more along the lines of stashing her in a trunk and burying her alive. To think he'd just fucked her and was about to top Mr. Hann at her behest. Never in a million years could he have anticipated this.

Mike looked over at Mr. Hann who was busy eating his own cum off the floor. Their eyes met and Mr. Hann's eyes seemed to beg for it. Mike walked over to Mr. Hann and grabbed his chin. He kept eye contact as he slid his half hard cock between his old teachers lips. Mike slid his fingers into Mr. Hann's short brown hair and began to rock in and out of his mouth. Mr. Hann played his tongue over Mike's shaft and Mike felt his erection increase. He kept like this until he was around half way to finishing. Mike pulled his cock out of Mr. Haan hungry lips and circled to his raised ass. He looked over to Mrs winter who was watching the whole encounter, touching herself and masturbating. She rubbed her smooth pussy, circling and teasing her moist clit. She urged him to go on, to fuck her mountain of a husband.

Mike lined up his head with Mr. Hann's moist asshole. He had never in his life been so simultaneously uncomfortable and aroused. He was about to push in when he changed his mind. He moved his cock away and bent over to eat Mr. Hann's ass. Mr. Hann was not expecting this and for the first time that afternoon he made an audible sound of pleasure. Mike forced his tongue into the hole eliciting more sighs and moans. He reached around and began stroking Mr. Hann's impressive cock. He kept this up until Mr. Hann's moans seemed to reach a fever pitch. When he thought his teacher might cum he stopped all stimulation. It was then that he rammed his rod into Mr. Hann's muscular ass. Mike felt the warmth slide along his shaft. The muscular walls tightened and released. He could hear Mr. Hann's breathing and knew he was close to finishing. He slid in and out of his sheath slowly, feeling the friction with each movement. Mike continued at this pace till he felt Mr. Hann shudder. He knew he was about to cum and so he began ramming him with short forceful thrusts. Mike felt his own orgasm build up he cam to fruition just as Mr. Hann did. Mike leaned over and held the much larger man. Mr. Hann bucked and shuddered shooting rivulets of discharge on the already soiled floor. The force of his orgasm threw Mike over the edge too. Mike pumped his milk deep into Mr. Hann's guts. Mrs. Winter watched still pleasuring herself. Mike pulled out, reached out his hand and caught the dribble of cum from Mr. Hann's ass. He fed the handful of warm seed to the submissive giant. Mr. Hann hungrily lapped it up then proceeded to clean his own mess off the floor again.

Mrs. Winter-Hann beckoned the now exhausted Mike over to the bed. She handed him a vibrator "my turn you little fuck Boi." "It does appear you can do something right." Mike began circling her nipples and clit with the vibrator. Alternating areas in response to her moans. He brought her right up to the edge of release then stopped all stimulation. She looked at him shocked. She moved to finish herself off but he grabbed her wrists and held her for a few minutes. When it seemed she had lost her arousal completely Mike began stimulation again. She bucked and moaned and begged him for release but again he stopped and held her. Mike continued this a 3rd, 4th, and 5th time. Mrs. Winter was crying, "please, give it to me!" after the 6th time he walked away from the bed. "do. It yourself you old whore," he told her.

Mike went over to Mr. Hann and reached out his hand and said "get up, get dressed, let's grab some lunch." Mr. Hann looked questioningly at Mike. "you little bitch, " Mike added. Mr. Hann smiled and abliged. They got dressed and left the house to the sounds of the snow queens crippling orgasm.

[une-boule-de-suif]

• Les tifs- hair     o Je vais au coupe-tifs – I’m going to the hairdresser     o Je me suis fait coupé les tifs- I got my hair cut • La tronche/la gueule (plus vulgaire) – head/face    o Avoir une sale tronche/gueule- to not have a nice face, to look bad (after consuming too much alcohol • La trombine/binette - a mug (face) • La caboche- head    o Il n’a rien dans la caboche – he’s got nothing in his head, he doesn’t think things through • La bouille (gentil) – face (of a child usually)     o Il a une bonne bouille – he has a cute little face • Le pif- le nez (nose)    o Piffer quelqu’un- supporter qqn- to stand someone – je ne peux pas le piffer • Le bec- mouth, gob • La mimine – hand (of a child), a cute and small hand      o Donne-moi la mimine pour traverser la rue- give me your handy to cross the road • La paluche- hand (more for men who have big hands) • Les nichons- boobs • Le bide- stomach • Le bidon – belly (bit of chub)     o Les poignets d’amour- love handles     o Avoir de la brioche- to have a tubby tummy     o Avoir des abdos- to have abs     o Avoir les tablettes de chocolat-to have a six pack • Le cul- ass • Le popotin -bottom (le pot – potty, potty training) • La bite- dick • La teub- dick (verlan of bite) • Les couilles- balls • Le zizi – penis • La zézette- fanny • La chatte- pussy • La patte/ La guibole - leg     o Avoir mal à la patte- to have a pain in your leg • Le panard – foot

[chocobroing]

Chapter 1: A New World~Gladio/OFC NSFW!

Just a note: This is my story from AO3. I’m not re-posting or plagiarizing! 

@dirtyffxvconfessions, @themissimmortal, @hypaalicious, @nifwrites

(I feel a bit presumptuous for tagging you all, but I thought you might enjoy. Maybe. *shrugs*)

…

It had been a few months since they moved in with her and Eleanor was having a big problem with providing for them. A few weeks ago, Ella was awoken in the middle of the night when she heard someone breaking into her house. She lived in a small house alone out in the middle of nowhere miles away from the closest town. The only thing she had to protect herself was her shotgun. She got up, pulled her shotgun out from under her bed, and crept out of her room. Using the training her dad taught her, she stealthily moved through the house to the back door where she heard the noise. She readied herself and whipped the lights on.

In the middle of her room stood six people looking astonished. There were four men wearing official-looking black outfits and two women wearing two different outfits. One woman had light blond hair and wore a white dress while the other woman with dirty blond hair wore a pink bikini top with a small yellow jacket that revealed her stomach. She also wore short jean shorts and cowgirl boots. It was the men that caught Ella’s attention.

One of them was a man about as tall as a skyscraper. He wore a black unbuttoned shirt that revealed his brawny chest and abs. He wore black pants and matching colored boots. He had black tattoos going down his muscular arms and it looked good on him. He had shoulder length black hair up in a half ponytail and amber colored eyes with a scar running down the left side of his face and a few more across his forehead. He looked very serious and mature. In front of him was a young man with spiky black hair, a goatee and mustache, and blue eyes. He wore a black suit and it cut his figure nicely. He looked old but his face was young. On one of his hands was an intricately designed ring. He was rather tall but not as tall as the guy with the tats.

Next to the well-dressed man was another well-dressed man with dark glasses and a cane. He had neck length dark blond hair and was a few inches shorter than the tatted man. He looked rather serious too but seemed at ease with the whole situation. A shorter man with light blond hair and a short goatee stood next to the glasses man and looked nervous. He, too, wore black clothing. It seemed to be a reoccurring trend here. He was cute, like a little puppy.

Ella faltered a bit but then steadied her arm again. “Who the hell are you? What are doing in my house?” She glared at them, daring them to lie to her.

“Good evening,” said Glasses in a clipped British accent. “Please lower your weapon. We mean no harm.” He sounded so sincere that Ella almost believed him, but she refused to lower her gun.

“That’s what they all say before they kill the homeowners,” she argued.

“Hey, chill,” said the short blond, raising his hands in a consoling way. “We’re not here to hurt you. We just wanna know where we are.”

“Right now, you’re in my house, miles away from the closest town,” she answered, lowering her gun. “The closest town from here is called Aurora. It’s a small town that I work in. Now, who are you guys?”

“I apologize,” said Glasses, bowing slightly. “We should have introduced ourselves. I’m Ignis Scientia, a pleasure to meet you.”

“I’m Prompto Argentum,” said the shorter blond, smiling infectiously.

“I’m Gladiolus Amicitia,” said the tall man with tattoos in a deep voice that Ella felt in her core. “And this is King Noctis Regis Caelum.” He pointed to the dark-haired man wearing the suit.

“I’m Lunafreya Nox Fleuret,” said the angelic-looking blond girl with a British accent. “Noctis’s wife. Pleased to meet you.”

“I’m Cindy Aurum,” said the other blond girl in a southern accent, smiling widely. “Nice to meet ya. Now that we got that out of the way, who’re you?”

“I’m Eleanor Stevens,” said Ella, finally cracking a smile. “Everyone I know calls me Ella, though.”

“It’s very nice to meet you, Ella,” said Noctis in a soft, deep voice. “We’re sorry for intruding but we have no idea where we are.”

“You’re in Aurora, California, in the United States on planet Earth,” replied Ella, hoping that if she narrowed it down enough they would recognize where they were. “Does any of this sound familiar to you?”

“No,” replied Lunafreya, shaking her head. “I’m afraid not. The last I remember was being in the afterlife with Noctis. We were at Insomnia, newly married as king and queen.”

“Insomnia doesn’t sound familiar to me,” remarked Ella, placing a hand on her chin in an inquisitive manner. “Well, for the meantime, why don’t you stay here? You need a warm place and food in your bellies. There isn’t much room here but I think we can negotiate it.”

Everyone smiled at her and said thank you. Ella went straight to work on assigning sleeping arrangements. Luna and Noctis would stay in her sister’s vacant room; Prompto and Cindy, who were actually together, stayed in the other spare room where Ella’s old room used to be; and Gladio and Ignis stayed in a loft that Ella renovated into sleeping quarters.

…

It had been a few weeks since that happened and Ella was in big trouble. According to her Google searches, the six people in her house were actually characters from a video game that was recently released. They weren’t lying when they said they didn’t know where they were. They weren’t from here in the first place. That wasn’t the only problem, though. Ella was falling head over heels in love with Gladio, who acted as the man of the house whenever she went to work. He was a great man who made her laugh and gave her hope that there was more to life than just solitude. She was conflicted, though. She noticed how he flirted with Cindy, albeit in a joking manner, and knew she was not perfect for him.

She remembered watching him chop wood for the fireplace. He was shirtless and the sight of his rippling muscles made her dizzy. Sweat trickled down his back as he lifted the ax over his head and swung it back down to chop the wood. At first, he wanted to use his sword but Ella said it was too big to properly chop wood. He smirked at her, taking that as a double entendre, and she blushed, realizing her blunder. She bit her bottom lip and walked away, wanting to put herself out of her misery. God, he was so bad! But she wanted him.

Ella sat in her room with Cindy and Luna, complaining about her problems.

“It’s like this,” she sighed, looking down at her folded hands, “I really like Gladio. I mean, really like him.”

“Then what’s wrong?” asked Cindy, cocking her head to one side.

“Cindy, I’m not pretty like you or Luna.” Ella nodded over to the beautiful blond woman, who blushed at the compliment. “I mean, I’m just…me…”

“You listen here, Ella,” said Cindy firmly, taking one of Ella’s hands in one of her own. “You are beautiful. You have great hair, nice skin, a good body, and a great personality. You just need more confidence. I bought this cute outfit and I think it will fit you. Follow me.”

Cindy took Ella’s hand and pulled her to hers and Prompto’s room. She walked over to the closet and pulled out a small lacy black dress. Ella stared at the flimsy outfit with awe. She never had the nerve to wear such revealing clothes. She may had been twenty-five but she was never that bold. The blond must have noticed the apprehension on Ella’s face because she smiled.

“Don’t worry, Ella,” she said in a reassuring way. “You’ll look good in it.”

Ella nodded but bit her bottom lip nervously. What would the guys think of her in that outfit?

…

A half-hour later, Cindy went into the living room where the boys were. She stood in front of the TV program they were watching and smiled.

“Guys, I have a surprise for y'all,” she said, clasping her hands together. “I’d like you to meet Ella 2.0. Come on out, Ella.”

As soon as the woman did, Prompto, Noctis, and Gladio’s mouths fell open. Ella wore a sexy black number that was low cut and showed a lot of leg. She looked a bit uncomfortable, though, unsure whether to pull the hem down or the front up. Luna did Ella’s makeup to perfection and Cindy curled Ella’s caramel-colored hair. Cindy also lent Ella a black sexy garter belt with matching stockings. The underwear felt a bit strange because she had never worn such a thing. She was pretty casual in the underwear department. However, Ella looked like a goddess. Gladio could feel what her outfit was doing to his body. He had the most embarrassing hard-on that he could barely cover up. Noctis and Prompto both gave Luna and Cindy apologetic looks for staring. The two women smiled back, proud of their success.

“What’s going on?” asked Ignis, his blindness preventing him from seeing what was happening.

“My greatest dream come true,” replied Gladio in a mystified voice, openly ogling Ella, who bit her bottom lip in a way that was unintentionally sexy. He knew she was a bit nervous about exhibiting herself like this but it was the best thing that ever happened since he appeared on this planet.

Cindy pulled Ella aside and whispered something scandalous. “Sit on Gladio’s lap.” She smirked at Ella’s gob-smacked expression. “Go on. Try it. Dominate him. Show him who’s boss.”

Ella took a deep breath and walked over to Gladio, trying not to trip in Cindy’s stripper heels. Schooling her expression, she walked straight to Gladio and sat down on his lap, straddling his hips. She could feel his erection through his pants and tried not to blush. Her breasts, well-revealed and accentuated by the dress, were almost pressed up against his chest and her lips were a few inches from his. The tatted man shot Noctis a look telling him and everyone else in the room to get lost.

Noctis got the message and pulled Prompto and Ignis out of the room with a smug-looking Cindy and a mortified Luna trailing behind them. As soon as they were alone, Gladio grabbed Ella and flipped her so she was laying on the couch with him straddling her hips. He bent down and kissed her neck, his lips trailing down to her collarbone. When he pulled back to kiss her lips, he noticed that she had an apprehensive look on her delicate face and he stopped.

“What’s wrong?” he asked, a bit breathlessly, stroking her cheek with his thumb.

“Why are you doing this?” she asked tearfully, her bottom lip trembling. “I mean, is it for kicks, for lust, or something else?”

Gladio sighed, bowing his head. “Ella,” he finally said, lifting his head back up to look at her. “I love you.”

The soft declaration filled Ella with absolute shock. “You love me? Since when?” she asked shakily, placing a hand on his face.

“When I first met you, and saw how powerful you were with that gun; it gave me feelings I have kept dormant,” he replied truthfully. “Seeing how strong and independent you are, only increased those feelings.”

Ella smiled and stroked his cheek lovingly. “I love you too,” she said softly, trailing her fingers up to the scar on his forehead. “I don’t know why. I just do. I feel so safe with you.”

Gladio returned the smile and pressed his lips to hers. Ella accepted and enthusiastically returned it. She wrapped her arms around his neck and deepened the kiss, pulling him close against her body. She could feel the warmth radiating from his body. His body felt so strong, so warm, so protective, that Ella felt safe with him. Gladio grinded his crotch against hers, trying to create a delicious friction. Feeling his hardened member against her made a warm wetness fill her panties. She let out an almost painful moan and he stopped to look at her.

“Did I hurt you?” he asked, trying to keep himself from gasping.

“No,” she replied in a breathless moan. “It felt really good.”

Smirking, Gladio pulled the hem of her skirt up and noticed that her panties weren’t ordinary panties. It was a black lacy garter belt with black sheer leggings covering her long beautiful legs. He stroked the lace of her belt and a look of absolute lust filled his face. His eyes darkened at the sight of her underwear. It made his erection harden even more to the point of being in pain.

“Oh, my God,” he breathed, running gentle fingers over the garter belt. His touch grew rough as he tore the straps holding the stockings and underpants together. The snapping left some red marks on her thighs and she looked down, feeling the sting of it.

“Come on, that’s not fair,” she whimpered, noticing how Gladio would always have the upper hand.

“No, baby,” he growled out, giving her a fierce look as he thumbed her stockings. “These aren’t fair. I owe Cindy big time.”

He pulled the stockings down and taking her heels with them. She opened her legs wide, allowing him more access to her lower half. With steady, sure hands, Gladio pulled her panties down, noticing how wet she was down there. Her lower lips were twitching with arousal and releasing a sweet-smelling honey. Ella bit her bottom lip, feeling very uncomfortable. She needed something she didn’t know how to voice.

“Gladio,” she gasped, giving him a begging look. “Please…”

His look softened and he placed a hand at her dripping entrance. “Please what, baby?” he asked huskily, fingering the outside of her entrance, causing more liquid to come out.

“Fuck me,” she begged, her hips trembling with impending release. “Please…”

“Since you asked so nicely,” he teased, pulling his unbuttoned shirt off his shoulders and letting fall to the ground. Next, he pulled his boots and socks off and unbuttoned his pants. He pulled his jeans down, taking his boxers down with them. Ella looked down and noticed how big he was. That was almost eleven inches and about five or six inches around. How was that going to fit in her?

“What’s wrong, baby?” he asked softly, seeing her anxiety.

“It’s big,” she answered, looking at it nervously. “Are you sure that will fit in me?”

He laughed out loud and bent to kiss her neck. “I’m pretty sure it will,” he remarked. “Wanna give it a try?”

“Um, Gladio,” she said, looking around and noticing how small the couch was. “This couch is a bit too small to go all out. My room is close by. Let’s go there.”

Without saying a word, Gladio lifted her up bridal style and carried her into her bedroom. Once they entered the room, Gladio kicked the door shut and placed Ella on her bed, laying down on top of her. This was much better. The accommodations weren’t as cramped as before on the couch. Spreading her legs, Gladio sank into her warmth and let out a loud groan. God, she was so tight! She squeezed him like a vice—a wet, warm vice that seemed to be too small for him.

“God, you’re so tight, baby,” he groaned, rutting up against her.

Ella got a naughty idea. She knew dirty talk could make sex hotter. She had read it in her bodice-ripper novels, so she decided to try it.

“And you’re so big,” she whispered seductively, grinding up against him. “You’re so strong…so warm. Your hands are so gentle yet strong. Pull my dress off of me and hold me tight.”

Gladio’s hands traveled up her back and found the zipper of the dress. Attaching his lips to hers, he unzipped her dress and lifted it over her head. She wore a black lacy bra that enhanced the beauty of her breasts. Unable to control himself, he tore the bra off her body and tossed it over his shoulder. Her nipples hardened in arousal and it invited him in. Now that they were totally bare to each other, they could go all out.

He slammed into her once more and started a slow, steady rhythm. With each thrust he made, her hips lifted to join his. She wrapped her legs around his hips once more, allowing him access to her cervix. It felt like it was going on forever. As his climax started coming, his thrusts increased in tempo and speed. He was slamming into her so hard that his testicles were slapping her bottom. His grip on her grew tight, certainly bruising her soft pale skin, and the two lovers moaned and groaned each other’s names.

“I love you,” she whimpered, her legs trembling with impending release.

“I love you too, Ella,” he whispered in her ear, letting his breath tickle her ear. “I need you to come for me. Can you do that for me, baby?”

A delicious groan escaped from her and her head flew back. “K-keep talking,” she begged, digging her nails into his back. “I need you…to keep talking.”

A smirk flittered across Gladio’s features. “Is that right?” he asked huskily. “You need to hear my voice? What a dirty whore you are. Don’t look at me like that. You just got wetter. You love it when I call you those names, don’t you? Come on, you little slut. Break for me.” Ella’s eyes almost closed but he wouldn’t let her. “Open your eyes!” When she did, she saw that there was fire in those amber eyes. They were her undoing.

“Oh, God!” she cried, feeling herself clench around his member.

The sweet release that she needed finally came. Her back arched uncontrollably and she wept in bliss. Cleansing tears fell down her cheeks as she dug her fingers into Gladio’s hair, reveling at its softness. Gladio let out a loud groan and he gripped her even tighter. Mumbling obscenities, he released into her, filling her with his hot essence. His mind was wiped clean and he dug his fingers into her hips. Muscles he didn’t know that were tensed relaxed and he collapsed on top of her, his form keeping her warm. He smiled lazily, thinking that this was exactly what he needed. It had been a long time since he had done this but he hadn’t lost his touch.

“That was so good,” she whispered breathlessly, trying to slow her racing heart down. “That was amazing, Gladio.”

“I aim to please,” he teased, pressing a tender kiss to her moist lips. “It was great for me, too.” With a groan, he pulled out of the warm confines of her vagina and rolled over to lay next to her.

Ella snuggled up next to him and laid her head on his chest, listening to his steady heartbeat. Her eyes grew heavy and she felt her body beginning to relax. She was exhausted. It felt like she had been in the Olympics. Her body was so sore. As she closed her eyes, she felt Gladio’s chest rumble with laughter.

“What’s so funny?” she asked wearily, not opening her eyes.

“Your hair is a mess,” he pointed out, gesturing to the messy tangles that were her curls.

“So is yours,” she retorted childishly, pointing at his mussed hair.

“I was too caught up to notice anything,” he replied, wrapping his arms around her slim yet curvy waist. “Let’s get some sleep, baby. I think I’m tapped right now.”

Grinning contently, Ella surrendered herself to the nice waves of sleep, feeling safe knowing that her lover was right beside her holding her in his strong, protective arms.

Gladio looked down at the sleeping woman, smiling lovingly. I love you, Eleanor, was his last thought before he drifted off into a refreshing slumber.

…

Prompto had a pillow covering his head, trying to drown out the sounds of copulation nearby. He knew people had sex and he did it with Cindy many times, but it sucked when you had to hear someone else doing it when you wanted to sleep. Ignis sat on the bed next to Prompto and Cindy, who was shaking with laughter, cursing himself for having heightened hearing now. He didn’t want to hear this. It made him cringe in a way that almost broke his ribs. Cindy felt enormous pride. Finally, the sexual tension was resolved. She could always feel the tension whenever Gladio and Ella were in the same room together.

Noctis laid in bed next to Luna, staring at the ceiling and wondering where he went wrong in life. Why did the goddamned walls have to be so thin? It was either that, or Gladio and Ella were being ungodly loud. He covered his face in a pillow, trying to suffocate himself. Luna seemed to notice.

“Darling, don’t do that,” she said, trying to coax the pillow out of his hands. “You’ll suffocate.”

“I’ll take sleep however I can get it,” was his muffled reply.

Luna smiled at his snarky response and shook her head. Honestly, Gladio and Ella having sex didn’t mean it was the end of the world. Sure, it was loud and made Luna feel awkward, like she was in the room with them, but that didn’t mean it wasn’t normal. She was very happy that Ella was finally with Gladio. Anyone could see they were in love. Ignis could even see it and he was blind. Ignoring the sounds of copulation, Luna curled up next to Noctis and fell asleep, feeling absolutely content.

[audio-luddite]

Silly Money.

There are many people with a lot of money.  There are therefore many people working to get some of that from them.  Cars so fast that there is literally no place to drive them.  Clothes that are used once then discarded but cost as much as a house.  And there are Sound systems.

Many if not all the really expensive stuff is not as good as the price.  You could staff a factory with vestal virgins bred specifically to hand assemble tube amps and not justify the prices some charge.  It is what Thorstein Veblen described as conspicuous consumption.  Spending unreasonable quantities of money to show you can.

The silly money gets in the way of ordinary people trying to enjoy a pleasant hobby.  Silly money also encourages people to explore many unreasonable alternatives to playing recordings in your home.

Speakers can cost a few hundred bucks to middle 6 figures.  The vast majority are no better than what you can get for 3 figures.  Most are based on flawed assumptions.  Dipoles suck cuz they just muddle the sound.  Having spent gobs of money people will do back flips to justify them.  They tend to have large radiating surfaces which have excellent acoustic impedance matching to the room.  That is heard as “presence”.  But that is not worth the extra wave fronts bouncing about the room to me.  Same goes for omni speakers.  Hell the list is long.

The basic sound sources have silly money too, but you can get 97% of the best sound with far less than 5 figure costs.   I like Vinyl as in the most general sense it is the most honest and with good equipment you can extract amazing sound from it.  If you have access to master tapes I envy you.  High bit rate digital is intriguing and if you have the cash and can deal with the business model go for it. 

The amplification chain is craziest of all.  Preamps may use any one of a half dozen basic technologies as can power amps.  I think silliest of all is the fetish of ultra LOW power triode amps.  These can cost thousands yet put out tiny power usually well under 10 watts.  If you listen to Yo Yo Ma at conversational levels then enjoy.  Rock, Orchestral, or anything with LOUD bits look elsewhere.

The basic Technologies are Tube in Class A, and Class AB designs. Transistors work in Class A, Class AB, and Class D.  FETs ( which are transistors that sort a work like tubes ) work in the same classes as tubes.

“Class” refers to the type of circuit.  Class A is a gain device that modulates the entire wave form positive and negative.  Class B is a gain device that modulates only half the wave positive sharing its work with a separate device that does the negative.  They switch between them.  Class AB is a mixture of both where at the cross over between positive and negative some sharing occurs.  Almost all Amplifiers are AB if they have any power worth talking about.

Class D is different and is always transistor.  Some people call it “Digital” but the D was the next available letter and does not denote digital per se.  It uses the facility of transistors to switch on an off really fast.  They work by turning on a device full power then turning it off.  The length of the on time determines the signal amplitude once the carrier frequency is filtered out.  Effectively a pulse code modulated (digital) signal is used to drive them.  These can be very powerful and electrically efficient.  They also demand very accurate conversions from analog and excellent filter components.  These can be amazing.

With all these methods people have tried them all.  Some work some not so much, all have flaws.  If you have to ask the price.....

The most massive power amps ever built were transistor Class A.  They run HOT.  The gain devices run at about one half full current at idle.  The sound is free from distortion from the switching in AB types, but depend on the linearity of the transistors. They also depend on the accuracy and stability of the “neutral’ terminal with is part of a highly regulated power supply.  Only operate in cold climates or where electricity is cheap for the machine and the Air Conditioners.

My beef with tubes is simple.  I like the sound, but I question the accuracy.  Fans insist they are more accurate than any other type of circuit device.  They also insist by changing brands or specific production runs of tubes you can adjust the sound to your preference.  It is called Tube Rolling.  If doing so alters the sound that is PROOF that it aint accurate.  But they sound nice.  My preamp is Tube.

They also are fragile eventually will wear out and are stupid expensive to replace.  At least in preamps they last a long time and can be affordable.

Affordable drives most of my choices.  It is simply because if I want to have music I need something I can afford.  When I buy stuff it represents good stuff from bygone eras.  If there is something obvious I can do to tweak it I do that.

My turntable is a Sony 2251 La  which was an Absolute Sound recommended component in the 70s.  The previous owner had an SME arm but kept it so bought a Grace 707 with a Shure V15 iii. At the time that was a HOT setup with a couple of tweaks including the correct pico-farads.  I now have a Signets Cartridge that responds to over 40 khz.  There is a cork mat which has an amazing effect on the sound.  It is dialed in.

I have described the preamp and amp elsewhere.

My speakers I built.  Over 40 odd years I have built many speakers.  The current ones are the best I ever made.  I think they are better than any I have ever heard. I have heard many examples of new designs in shops that are simply not as good.  They are smallish.  Roughly the size of my Advents, but with much better bass, and imaging, and clarity over the whole range.  They are also unobtrusive and are mistaken for end tables usually.

I avoid the crazy money stuff.  Sometimes I wonder what people hear.

[totallymotorbikes]

Church Of MO First Ride: 2003 BMW R1200CL You know what’s funny? Calvin Kim posits, in his 2003 First Ride review of the BMW R1200CL, that people would end up buying this bike. Nevermind the, uh, ugly aesthetics, the R1200 backbone of BMW’s cruiser would be sure to persuade unorthodox cruiser riders that it was the way forward. Well, as history has taught us, there aren’t as many unorthodox cruiser riders as BMW hoped, and the R1200CL is remembered as a flop. Ugliness aside, read on to find out Kim’s overall positive view of the CL. And if you’re looking for a few more pictures, you can check out the photo gallery. First Ride: 2003 BMW R1200CL Luxury Cruising, or Cruising Luxuriously By Calvin Kim Apr. 20, 2003Photos by MO and BMW NA Biltmore Estate, North Carolina, September 3, 2002 — When BMW came out with the R1200C five years ago, a lot of people raised eyebrows. Everybody knew how rough and tumble the cruiser industry was back then. It still is pretty hot if you think about it. Nevertheless, amidst the skepticism the C took off and has proved a success for BMW. In fact, the C has become so successful that BMW has produced four different variations of the beast. Now, at the new-model intro at the Biltmore Inn in North Carolina the CL makes five. Trying to capture another segment of the burgeoning cruiser market, BMW has decided to enter into the decidedly slower pace of the “cruising-tourer” or is that “touring-cruiser”? Regardless, what we have here is essentially a heavily modified C cruiser outfitted with BMWs best touring goodies. Integral ABS, lockable saddlebags and removable top-case, cruise control and, of course, those famous heated grips all come standard on the CL model. Upgrade to the CLC (Custom) model, and you get heated seats for two and a radio replete with a CD player. Unfortunately the only thing that’s not included is a more powerful engine. Now, don’t get us wrong. For 99% of the targeted riders out there, this thing will be great. To be honest, there is enough torque and power to get things moving along at a proper clip. It’s just that you have to find it. Unlike a GS or an R, don’t think of looking for the power down low. It’s higher up in the rev range, where a normal cruiser rider wouldn’t think to look for it. The climb out from stop to past first-gear is a doozy. Clutch slipping is the only way to do it, and first gear is the only way to climb out of tight, off camber switchbacks. And even then it’s dicey. The motor, a stock R1200C powerplant, really comes into its own above 3~4k revolutions per minute and hangs onto what little bits of dignity it has all the way up to redline. Caspian Blue in front of Biltmore Estate. Ahhh. Must be nice to be the son of an industrial mag-nate. Thankfully, BMW did their homework in picking out a route that would highlight the CL’s high points, one of which is the controversial front fairing. With its scalloped top edge and unconventional headlight treatment, the CL is sure to turn heads. And heads it turned- but thankfully none of it was due to wind buffeting. That’s because the cutout was designed to offer maximum wind protection while not sacrificing any visibility. You really didn’t notice it till you’re cranked over and looking right through the cutout onto the road ahead, and not straight on the edge of the shield. The headlights are another controversial aspect of the machine. While the outer two, low beam units are descendants of those found on the R80GS, the two centrally tandem mounted, smaller, high beam units are the same as those found on the R1150. Why they chose this setup, we may never know. But we do know why the rest of the fairing looks the way it does. Wind tunnel testing contributed heavily to the final design of the fairing. There are numerous soft edges and lines that are all there to help keep the front end stabilized during cruise speed. Even things such as water run-off patterns were studied to ensure that the rider would remain as dry as possible during rain storms, which is impossible, but we give them points for trying. Surprisingly enough, the CL had gobs of ground clearance. Well, gobs for a floor board equipped cruiser anyway. Aside from the appearance, the rest remains typical BMW. However, don’t think this is simply a well-equipped R1200C. Essentially, aside from the motor, everything has been replaced. Minor touches like a lengthened swingarm and relaxed fork angles and been incorporated. More blatant updates include the addition of a six-speed, overdrive transmission as well as a wider front tire. Interestingly enough, the wheelbase is actually eight millimeters shorter than on a C. So what’s it like to ride? In a word, different. If you’ve ever ridden a large bike with a fork mounted fairing, you’ll know what I mean. Slow speeds are a bit hard to negotiate, but still doable. My only real complaint with the handling is in the front-end feel during medium and slow speed riding. There was no front-end feel to speak of, and for me, that was a bit disconcerting. Going into tight switchbacks felt like riding on ice. It didn’t help that the road surface was wet and gravel-strewn from a previous night’s storm. Regardless, as the day wore on, the senses got used to the feeling and the muscles started to adapt. In fact, it was downright pleasurable to operate at slightly higher speeds. It seems as if more loading on the front-end helps bring back the feeling. The CLs dash layout is very clean and comprehensive. Amongst all the glitz and glamour of a press-intro and the flitter of journo-speak, it gets difficult to remember who this bike was marketed for (you know who you are, mister 46 year old with $100,600 average income) and why it was even brought to fruition. Fact of the matter is that everything worked the way it was supposed to, including the revised power-assist brake system. It seems as if people were complaining about the abruptness of the first generation system, particularly when the foot pedal was applied. So, BMW fixed it, and now we’re left with a much more gradual power brake feel. In fact, brakes where fantastic overall. Quick stops using either lever or pedal can be achieved, and makes a maximum braking procedure, a procedure that was once shuddered to think about, a truly user friendly affair. Touches, like floorboard and control mounting positions were all well thought out. The brake pedal is located just in front of the right floorboard. Although it looks awkward at first, the pedal is in the perfect location. From the floorboard simply slide your foot forward and press. It’s a similar process for the heel-toe shifter. While the controls functioned as designed, ergonomics proved to be a mixed bag. The seat to floorboard relationship was great. However, the handlebar reach seemed a bit excessive, putting the rider’s arms wide. In fact, the seat is actually 0.2 inches taller than a stock R1200C but maintains its “flat-foot” factor by creative use of seat design. Unfortunately I didn’t really get to field test the bags or the lighting system as our ride only lasted a single day. But, in the little time I had, I found the bags to be typical of all the other BMW systems; well designed and fabricated. While the top case is removable, the side bags are designed to stay put. CD or, Compact Disc, technology will revolutionize the way… what? This compact disc technology is already available? Goodness gracious, I must inform my dear friend T. Alva Edison. Now, the main question remains is are people going to buy the CL? I think they will. And why not? The bike is built like a rock, and once you get used to the vague feeling front end, handles just fine. The BMW name, quality and attention to detail will be more than enough for the selling point. Luxury accouterments just add to its value. Sure its a little down on power, but when you’re just cruising the interstate, or rambling down a rural road this rig is perfect. Specifications Engine- Type: Air/oil cooled twin cylinder Bore x stroke: 101 x 73 mm Displacement: 1170 cc Horsepower: 61 bhp @ 5000 rpm Torque: 72 lb.-ft. @ 3000 rpm Compression ratio: 10.0:1 Valves per cylinder: 4 Fuel: FI and electronic controlled by Bosch Motronic MA 2.4 w/ automatic choke control Fuel capacity: 4.5 US gallons / 20.5 L Charging system: 800 W Drivetrain- Clutch: 165mm (6.5 in) dry, single plate Drive system: shaft drive Final drive: spiral bevel gears, 2.62:1 ratio Frame and Suspension- Frame: Cast aluminum front-frame section, stressed engine Front suspension: Telelever w/ coil spring, gas shock Front travel: 5.67in/114mm Rear suspension: Monolever, gas shock w/ preload adj. Rear travel: 4.72in/120mm Brakes- Brake system: BMW ABS-II Front brakes: dual 12in/305mm rotors, 4 piston calipers Rear brakes: Single 11.22in/285mm rotor, 2 piston caliper Wheels and tires- Front: 3.5×16 in cast aluminum wheel, 150/80 16 tubeless Rear: 4.0×15 in cast aluminum wheel, 170/80 15 tubeless Dimensions- Length: 95.1in/2415mm Width: 42.3in/1075mm Wheelbase: 64.61in/1641mm Ground clearance: 6.25in/159mm Seat height: 29.3in/745mm Handlebar width: 33.6in/853mm Steering angle: 56.5° Weight: 679lbs/308kgs wet/648lbs/294kgs dry Max weight: 1169lbs/530kg GVWR Colors- Pearl Silver Metallic Mojave Brown Metallic Capri Blue Metallic MSRP: $15990 Standard Equipment- Polished and chrome plated stainless-steel exhaust Electronically controlled 3-way catalytic converter Locking body-colored top and side cases; removable top case Four-lamp headlight system integrated into front fairing Heel-toe shifter and floorboards Hazard flashers Two power accs sockets Heated grips Cruise control Chrome package Radio prep Differences for CLC- MSRP: $16490 Standard Equipment- Radio/CD player Soft touch seat Heated seat Available in dealers, November 2002 Church Of MO – First Ride: 2003 BMW R1200CL appeared first on Motorcycle.com.

[outofcontextarresteddevelop-blog]