#it's so shocking how that mundane little text shows me how important i am to her

[thefantomaya]

Sometimes I feel so sad and alone, and then my best friend texts me just to tell me her dog got sap on her bed sheets, and I am filled with so much love to be the person she wanted to talk to about her menial daily stressors. No reason, just to have someone else to say that sucks, just to have someone else know.

[slasherrabbitmadness]

Bo Sinclair x Female Reader

THIS is a NONCON fic. Please don't read and then get shocked at what you read. You are reading this at your own risk! You cannot get shocked at the content here if you are sensitive to NONCON and read anyways. I am not responsible if you choose to still read this and it's upsetting. Also, there is Forced Breeding included! Read at your own risk.

When I get an AO3, I will be posting this there.

Underthecut - NSFW, NON-CON, Cheating -forced- Oral -Female receiving- Forced Breeding/Forced pregnancy, Degradation. Tagged as Dark Fic

Sinclair Brothers College AU Part 2 Part 1 is here!

Bo will never forget that morning. Never forgot your angelic face buried into his brother's chest, Vincent's face buried into the top of your head, nose nuzzled into your hair.

His voice had hurt for the three days after all the screaming he had done, his knuckles bruised for weeks after he and Vincent drew blows.

He could still hear your screaming, this shrill piercing scream for him to stop. To stop hurting him, to stop hurting Vincent.

Not one scream for him, his well-being.

Bo left the room with a bruised lip and ego.

The image of you comforting Vincent, rubbing his knuckles, kissing his cheek burned in his head. He replayed it over and over.

Bo couldn't get over how everyone seemed to approve of the whole ordeal.

That friend of yours had come running up to you, congratulating you on finally getting with Vincent. Even her tall British boyfriend paid a compliment.

His own friends even poked fun, how stupid he was not to see Vincent slowly making his moves. Vincent and you at the Dairy Queen, you at his art show, how both of you spent hours at the library.

How'd he miss all that?

Bo walked into his dorm, slamming the door behind him as he whipped off his hat, he frowned as he flopped onto the bed. back against the wall as he took in the room.

The large varnished bricks painted a light blue, years of new coats of paint chipping off in the corners. The yellow fluorescent light struggling to light up the room, no doubt the same light from when the dorm was built.

Bo took in his brother's side. Neat, save for a few books littered around, a few on his desk, three on the floor, two on the bed, and Y/n's cellphone.

Bo shot up, eagerly rushing over to Vincent's bed, hands immediately on your phone. He held it in his hands, smirking at the pink phone case with a bear's face on the back. He swiped his thumb over the screen, he grits his teeth at the image of you and Vincent on your home screen. Vincent held his arm around you as he kissed your cheek.

"Putz," he mumbled to himself, Bo's thumb lingered over your lock screen. He pressed in the four numbers, "Shit. She must have changed it." Bo looked up, going over what your new passcode could be. The old one was the date you and him started dating. Bo made sure it was that, and that way he had access to your phone whenever you were careless enough to leave it about.

Bo smiled as he knew what the passcode was. If his brother was anything like him, he'd be just as possessive, "Ding!" Bo tapped his foot in excitement as your phone opened up, he went right to your gallery, brows turned down in disgust.

Picture after picture of you and Vincent. Some tame, others, Bo whistled at the picture of you sucking off Vincent. He hated it, seeing your pretty little face lavish his brother's cock, but for Bo, it was easy just to picture his own in its place.

Another photo, you with your legs spread, hand over your mouth, embarrassed as your pussy was covered in Vincent's seed.

Bo groaned, "Little fuckin' whore." He pressed his feet into the ground, steadying himself. He was taken back to when he'd do the same to you, make you beg for his cum to coat your needy pussy. He licked his lips as he could hear your little whines and begs.

"Cum on my pussy, Bo." Fuck and you sounded so perfect.

"Cum on my pussy, Vinny." He cursed as your voice played over in his head. Hating how easily he could hear your sweet voice be so dirty for his brother.

Bo kept scrolling, his stomach churned, cock-stiffening as he scanned more and more pictures.

Videos, ranging from thirty seconds to two minutes in length. He pressed one, the image of you riding his brother played immediately.

"Oh, Vinny, your cocks making me feel so full." Bo groaned, he turned up the volume to hear the vulgar slaps of your ass against his brother's pelvis. "Oh, Fuck Vinny." Bo watched as you fell onto Vincent's chest as he lifted you, fucking up into you at a fast pace.

Bo watched till the end, his ears burning as your moans and whimpers wafted through the shitty phone speaker. He palmed his erection as he watched Vincent cum deep in you, his brother's disgusting grunts and growls had him snarling.

Bo's eyes remained on the screen. They widened as Vincent pulled out, carelessly spreading your legs open to the camera, both your face and Vincent are not visible, but your pussy was bared. He watches as his brother's seed leaked out of you, hearing Vincent mumbling at what a good little princess you are, how you were made to used, made to be a good little cum dump.

Bo shook, knuckles going white as he held the phone. Your whimpering approval of Vincent's words, how Vincent scooped his cum back up into you...

Bo snapped out of his anger as a text popped up,

-Hey, meet you at the library, I'll only be able to study briefly, I have a surprise shift at the hospital.-

Bo tapped it, immediately taken to your messages with Dan.

Everything between you and Dan was mundane. Study dates that often included Herbert and just random memes.

He exited out, looking over all the people you've been texting. Your texts with him deleted, he huffed as he continued. That girl dating the tall British guy. That weird Billy kid, Freddy, your mom, your boss, and Vincent.

He sat down on his bed as he went through the texts. Some of the texts were mundane, how are you, I'm good. I love you and can't wait to see you.

Bo froze, laughing to himself, leaning back onto the bed as he read the recent texts,

-Remember those awful cramps I've been having? My doctor said it was birth control. I'll be going off it for a few weeks and will be getting that Implanon thing.-

Bo checked the date, "Two weeks ago." he said to himself as he kept reading.

-So bad news, I won't get that Implanon thing for another month.-

-That's okay. We can keep it safe for now. One day though you'll be off that stuff ;)-

Bo shook his head, of course, his brother would be on that train of thought. Getting you pregnant. Watching your belly grow with babe.

Bo seethed, hand running down his front, cock pulsing at the image of you, begging for his cum, asking him to impregnate you. Your belly swelling with the Sinclair seed, his large hand rubbing over you, kissing your cheek, amazed at the changes in your body.

Your tits swelling, begging for Bo to ease the ache in them. Cock stiffening as he suckles on your tender tits.

Bo's attention was snapped back to reality as the door's handle justled. He quickly exited out of the texts, turned off the screen, and threw the phone on the bed, burying his face into his pillow, grunting as his cock angled into the bed painfully.

Vincent stepped in, sneering at his brother. "She forgot something, I won't be long." He mumbled, hand going for your phone.

"Y'her lap dog or some? She can't come get it herself?"

"I don't trust you alone with her." Vincent gave your phone a once over before grabbing a few books, "I'll be gone tonight, I work late, so you can invite that 'cute' girl from the bar." Vincent coughed as he finished his sentence.

"Yeah, yeah..." Bo eyed his brother, pulling his pillow closer into his face.

"You didn't touch this, did you?" Vincent waved the phone around, giving it a once over.

"Why would I touch her shit?"

Vincent shrugged his shoulders, "Bye," He opened the door, "Oh, and Lester is inviting us to a barbeque, he expects you to be there."

Bo flinched as his brother slammed the door. He sat up, freeing his cock, the images of you and Vincent still in his mind, the image of himself pushing Vincent away to replace Vincent's seed with his own...

"The library..." he said to himself, the image of you at the library, pushed over onto one of the corner desks, hidden away from everyone, his cock buried deep inside, pleading with him to cum inside.

Bo gripped the base of his cock, squeezing to let more of his precum drip out, watching as it fell along the side.

"That'd look a lot better in the place it belongs."

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

You and Vincent stood in front of the campus library, he ran his hands up and down your sides, pinching your ass when he dipped low.

"Vinny!" He playfully pinched his arm, kissing his cheek as you giggled.

"Can't help it, you're so cute." He kissed you again, tongue wrapping around yours, he pushed you closer into himself, your moan being suppressed by the kiss.

You reluctantly pulled away, "I gotta meet Dan. I need his help with my paper. Thanks for getting my phone."

Vincent nodded at you, kissing your cheek again, "I know, I don't want you near him, either."

You nod into his chest, inhaling his scent, linseed oil, and his farmer's market shampoo. You hum as he begins to sway you back and forth.

"I gotta go, see you tomorrow," He pulls away, hand rubbing over your cheek, his eye taking in your sad ones. "Be safe getting home."

"I will!" You shared a kiss goodbye as you excitedly entered the library.

You waved to norman at the front desk, he briefly looked up to give a small smile before returning to his large ornithology book on his desk.

You grinned and waved as you caught sight of Dan. He was in his scrubs with his Starbucks in his hand, smiling at you.

"I can help you for the next hour before I gotta go," He began as you sat in front of him, "Then I got my shift an-"

"Yes at the hospital, I know I know." You sat and opened your books, Dan grabbing one to flip through it, scanning for the important passage,

"Here, you'll want to start here, copy it, and then grab two more sources from the encyclopedias. Has to be from the books, not online."

You rubbed your temples, "Yeah, that's, a lot to take in."

Dan chuckled, "That's the advanced course for you."

You tapped your pencil on the paper of your books, "So, you hear about Brahms and his girl? The fight they had!"

Dan perked up, brown eyes filled with wonder.

The two of you immediately filled your time with gossip, the mention of Brahms's girlfriend and Billy was the only thing being studied.

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Bo strolled up to the library, "Twenty minutes to closing..." He shrugged his shoulders as he entered.

He looks around, the lights dimmed, the desk lamps off, save for the few remaining students.

"Can I help you?" Bo snapped his head to the thin, pale man at the front desk.

"Ah, yeah, where are the books on, like art and stuff," Bo looked at the nameplate, "Norman." Bo fumbled with his hands in his pockets.

"In the back," Norman gestured his head behind him, "In section eight hundred to eight hundred and fifty. Don't be long, we are closing soon." Norman sneered as he shuffled the papers on his desk.

"Yeah, thanks." Bo shook his head, as he caught Norman giving him a once over.

Bo clenched his fists as he heard Norman mumble "I don't even think he can read."

He made his way around the library, ducking behind the rows when he thought he saw you, any girl that resembled you had his heart clench in shock.

"No, Vinny, I can't talk right now, text it to me instead." Bo froze, his feet heavy, your voice was curt, he heard you grunt, knowing you just hung up on his brother.

Bo followed the voice, finding you tucked away in the private study area, the tables up against the walls, the lights were severely dimmed, Bo wondered how in the hell you could see the paper in front of you.

He carefully watched his steps, inching slowly behind you, grateful you were distracted in the book, grateful you secluded yourself so far away from everyone else.

A wolfish grin spread over his face, standing over you, he leaned in, hands snaking over you, rushing to silence your mouth,

"Hey, Sweets, miss me?"

Your blood went cold, eyes bulged, you attempted to turn but Bo held firm.

"Miss me? Huh? Ah, maybe you need to look at me first." He whispered into your ear, placing a feather-light kiss.

You retched away, guttural noises being silenced as Bo put a hand around your neck.

"Ah, no no, c'mon now, that any way to react to me? C'mon sweets, you used to beg me, beg me not to leave you, cry whenever I missed a date, moan for my cock to make you come." He chuckled as you squirmed in his arms, the chuckle turning into a soft laugh as you reached for your phone.

"Grabbing your phone for me? How nice of you, Sweets!" Bo whipped you around, slamming you onto the table as he chucked away the books, thankful they didn't fall onto the floor.

You began kicking at Bo, the panic making your blood run hot, giving you a surge of strength.

You knew Bo, knew how much stronger he was, knew you couldn't fight him off. The look in his eyes as his body leaned forward onto yours, chuckling off your kicks.

"Ah, hey, calm down," Bo squeezed on your neck, kissing your cheek as you sputtered out a whine, choking as you gasped for air.

Bo grabbed your phone, your eyes burning as he easily tapped the four-digit code to open it, he went right to the gallery, opening up the video of you and Vincent, "Look at you," The video played, Bo held the phone to your face, forcing you to look, "Taking my brother's cum in your slutty little pussy. Fuck what a good whore you are."

He exited out of the video, going to your texts, "So bad news, I won't get that Implanon thing for another month." He read aloud as he shook his head, "tsk tsk, and I bet you are still fucking, even when it's not safe. I mean, if my brother's anything like me, he won't wanna wrap that shit up."

Tears pooled in your eyes, slowly falling along the sides into your hair. Your eyes pleading with him, 'don't do this, please.'

Bo huffed as he pulled down your skirt, panties coming along with it. He took in your pussy, licking his bottom lip as he caught a glance at your shaved pussy, thankful that his brother has the same taste as him. "You look so good, that pussy nice and clean for me, gonna look good with my seed spilling out."

"I'll let you breathe properly if you promise to be quiet, can you do that for me?" His baby blues stared into your eyes, you wanted to hurl as you saw a sick softness to them.

"I'll, b-be- go-good." You choked. You gasped in sweet relief as bo removed his large hand from your neck. Your phone in his hand was held to your face as you realized he was filming.

"You better open up these legs for me, little whore like you should be used to spreading her legs, hm? Taking my brother's cock while dating me. Well, you can have my cock again, and I'm gonna make sure you'll never fucking forget this. Like I'll never fuckin' forget waking up to you." Bo placed the phone down, propping it up against your books, "With cum dripping out your pussy in Vincent's arms."

You looked away as you heard Bo's belt clink his zipper coming undone, "I can easily scream,"

"Scream? ha, the place is practically empty at this point, who's gonna come as you scream? 'Norman' I can tell he's already too self-absorbed to care for another." Bo leaned down, his breath hot over your cunt.

"Please don't, Bo please, I'll do anything!"

His signature cocky grin spread over his lips, "Oh, you will, first, I get a taste of this," He plunged his tongue in, a soft moan as your taste hit his tongue, his eyes looking up at you, then to the phone.

You squirmed as your walls involuntarily pulsed around his tongue. You squeezed your eyes shut, hips shaking as he flicked his tongue over your clit.

"You taste so good, fuck better than I remember," He sucked hard, laughing as you whimpered. "See, little slutty body like your can't help but react."

Wave after wave of pleasure crashed through you, Bo's large hand roaming your body, dipping under your shirt, sliding under your bra to squeeze your breast.

"Fuck it feels good too, remember how you used to beg me to suck on them?" He pinched your hardening nipple, "Look at the camera." He cooed.

He dipped two fingers into your heat, making you groan as he pressed down and sucked hard on your clit.

You breathed heavily through your nose, fighting the urge to let out a wanton moan. Tears flowed as your hips voluntarily bucked into Bo's face, his tongue sending wave after wave of euphoria through you that not even Vincent could manage.

Bo shook his head, a raspy moan muffled by the lewd noises your pussy made as he fingered you. He looked up, smirking into you, your pussy clenching around his fingers, how you covered your mouth to fight back the deep moan.

You ran your hand through Bo's brown hair, he moaned, taking the action as approval for his ministrations. You pushed on him, your airy moans muffled by your palm as you came. Bo stayed latched onto your clit, suckling and flicking it, tongue deep to your cunt to lap at you, groaning as it pulsed around his muscle.

Bo shot up, licking his lips of your cream, "Ah, see that, wanna taste?" You shook your head, mouth a no. He leaned in, one hand angling his cock while the other grabbed your neck.

His tongue wrapped around yours, muffling the whine as he slammed into you, his cock stretching you out, a slight burn mixed with pleasure.

Bo wasted no time, slamming hard into you, his cheeks pink as he groaned into the kiss, he lifted his head, "Ah, fuck, needy little pussy fuckin' missed me. Ah shit, I fuck." He grunted above you, his body pressing you into the table, "Fuck, it missed me, fuck it missed me."

You sobbed under him, your mind going to Vincent, trying to picture it was Vincent on top of you, it was you and Vincent making love in the library, not Bo. Not Bo sending waves of familiar pleasure through you, his cock stretching you out.

"Please, don't cum in me, Bo, please don't."

"Wah? cum in you? Sure, I can do that, after all, your little pussy was made for it." He sneered at you, a dark look flashed over him.

You punched at him, "I'll scream."

"You scream and that video gets sent to Vincent. Doesn't matter I'm hav-having m-my way with y-you." He stuttered between thrusts, "Just a video of you getting impregnated by his older brother. He won't want you."

You sobbed as tears spilled as you turned away from him, Vincent flashed in your mind. His smile, his light blue eyes, his hands holding yours.

Your body tensed as Bo's cock felt intoxicating, the familiar rhythm, his harsh kisses, mind being taken back to you on his bed, how he'd hiked your legs over his shoulders as he pushed them onto your chest, a cocky grin as he fucked you deep.

"Bo," You whimpered, "Please," you continued "Just not inside."

He slammed harder, groaning as you clenched around him, "Feels like it wants it inside. Don't lie to yourself, Sweets."

You couldn't, the tears fell, you whimpered Vincent's name, "Hurry, Bo."

Bo couldn't hold back, your sexy little body squirming under him, your pussy clenching around him, your spent leaking onto the table, your stifled moans. "Look at the camera as you cum, look as I cum in you," He turned your head towards the phone, tears freely falling Bo licked your cheek.

His breathing, his thrusts, his cock filling you so well, his raspy praise. You stared, "I'm sorry, Vincent." You scrunched your face as Bo positioned in and out, a low groan reverberated from his chest.

Bo laughed as he came, his seed painting your insides, coating your pink walls, picturing it shooting deep into your womb, his little swimmers getting to work.

You fought back the urge to barf, his cum filling you send a ripple of pleasure through you.

Bo hissed as his breathing slowed, the realization of your nails digging into his shoulders, came to his senses. He slowly pulled out, grabbing the phone, to capture his seed dripping out of your pussy.

He wrapped his hand around your throat, squeezing, a threat. He continued to film, "Ah, look at that, good little slut getting bred. Just like she was made too."

Bo brought the camera to your face, "Say, 'Hi, Vincent!' ha" he laughed as you kept your vision off him and the camera.

"it's okay, I know you're thinking of getting that plan B. But you'll be coming with me tonight, I'm gonna make sure my seed takes." Bo released your neck, thumb running over your lips as you coughed.

"Get dressed, we're gonna get a hotel, this is from over." He leaned in to kiss your cheek, "My good girl, mine again." He hugged you as he sent the video to his phone. He laughed as he felt you shake in his arms,

"I wonder what Vincent will do when he sees this, gosh I can only imagine." He hummed and swayed you back and forth, "You'll look great with my child in you, can't wait, ah you'll be so beautiful."

[sirrwritesalots]

Resurrection ~ Sherlock Holmes (angsty)

Pairing: (BBC) Sherlock x Y/N Warnings: Some cursing, angsty, anger Word Count: 2074 Summary: You have known Sherlock and John for years, but when he comes back from the dead, will you accept him so easily? A/N: This is out of my element, I usually write romance and stuff, but I’m trying out the depressing/Sherlock type of mystery and crime out a bit, though there isn’t much of that crime stuff happening lol hope you enjoy!

The reconnection between John and Sherlock was eventful, to say the least, but in comparison to the reunion between Sherlock and Y/N still did not go as he had originally planned or hoped for.

In the years he had been away - or as everyone thought: supposedly ‘dead’ - you had taken up residence at a cottage in Dorset your family had owned for a long time. You took the death of your close friend, and someone whom you loved very dearly, in the romantic sense as well as the platonic sense, rather difficult, so as a means of coping you spent some time away for yourself from the busy capital of the UK. You needed to reconnect with yourself and handle your grief, come to terms with what had happened in order to move on, and in doing so you found the lowland hills of South Wessex comforting and appealing as you creating your new life there. You’d become accustomed to your routine, to the - what some would call - mundaneness of it all, though your blood seemed to itch for some action every now and again, which you appeased by composing or writing, possibly taking up a new hobby, anything of the sort. 

So one day when there was a knock on your door, you simply expected it to be your neighbor down the road asking to borrow a cup of sugar or asking for a small favor. It came as somewhat of a surprise when you opened the front door and came face-to-face with none other than your old friend John Watson and his girlfriend Mary, who you met only a handful of times but really liked. She was good for him, you thought, after everything he had been though.

You welcomed them with a smile, “John! I didn’t know you were coming around! Mary, it’s lovely to see you again!” You were about to kiss both of her cheeks after letting the two inside when a third person appeared where they were standing a second ago.

“I didn’t know your family owned a cottage outside of London,” said the familiar deep baratome voice.

You could have sworn your heart stopped in that moment. Body completely froze with a hand closed around the door handle like a vice, a white-knuckle grip so tight the edges of the lock were almost piercing your skin. Although you always hoped you would be wrong in the back of your mind, you thought you’d never see him again. A wave of emotions crashed over you in a matter of seconds: shock, relief, joy. But the last of them all, white hot rage, washed through you like it never had before. Without saying a single word, you slammed the door in his face and turned to make your way into the kitchen.

You vaguely heard John and Mary’s mumbled comments. “Well, it could have been worse,” you imagined John shrugging to his girlfriend as he weighed some of the possible outcomes in his head. “She could have punched him in the face like I did.”

“John,” Mary said wearily, “Y/n’s not happy, and I wouldn’t expect her to be. What, with us just showing up out of the blue with him.”

“Give her some time... she’ll come around,” John attempted to give you the benefit of the doubt.

In the kitchen, your hands were splayed across the countertop to steady yourself as you felt like you were quite literally spinning from the thoughts running around in your head and your eyes slid out of focus. How was this even possible? Did John know this whole time? No, he couldn’t have. He was genuinely grief stricken, just like you had been. Mycroft must have known, that cheeky bastard knew practically everything. Why couldn’t he tell you, though? Of all people, why didn’t he let you and John in on his not-so-little secret for all these years? Your mind was running a thousand miles a minute attempting to answer all these rising questions on your own, wondering how you could have missed this simple fact: Sherlock was not dead.

After no reaction or response for me for a long time - you were unaware of how much time had passed - John entered the kitchen, calling your name. “How long have you known?” was the only thing you said, eyes now fixated on one particular spot on the counter so as to control your emotions in the moment.

“Only a few days. He wanted to tell you in person, not over the phone.”

You scoffed, shaking your head and relaxing your tense muscles for the first time since you slammed the front door shut. “That’s a shock.” Usually Sherlock preferred technological means of communication to human interaction, typically choosing to send a quick text over speaking on the phone or bothering to get off his ass and into a cab.

“Nothing about this is normal,” stated John. He was right; it wasn’t an everyday occurrence that a friend comes back to life, or rather fakes his own death. John tried to reason with you, “If you could just hear him out.”

“Is that what you did? Immediately wait and listen to what he had to say.”

“Well, um, no. It took a bit. I may have hit him once or twice. We relocated a few times.” You gave John a look that screamed the words ‘exactly’ without having to vocalize your point. “What I was trying to say is, that its Sherlock, Y/N. And we’ve been a mess since he left, no matter what we’ve done to be happy in that time.” Your mind immediately went to Mary and the cottage you were standing in; yours and John’s means of coping. 

“Yeah, John, that’s my point; he left! Without a word. He went along with Moriarty and let us go on believing he offed himself. How can you forgive him so easily?” Your blood was beginning to boil again.

“So, what are you planning on doing? Leave him outside in the rain until he learns his lesson?”

You crossed your arms in front of your chest, your chin lifting a fraction in affirmation. “Yes.” At the very least, you believed Sherlock deserved that, after all he put the two of your through, to sit soggy and cold for the next hour.

John relented and dropped his arms at his sides, realizing it was useless to argue with you as your stubbornness had clearly not disappeared in your time apart, and made his way back to Mary in the sitting room. You made the three of you some cups of tea, bringing the tray with you and setting it onto the table. Noticing the fire was lit, which must have been Mary’s doing while you were having your little tiff with John in the kitchen earlier, you smiled softly at her. She and John took residence on the couch while you sat in the chair closest to the fire, leaving a single chair adjacent to you unoccupied as the room warmed up.

You could hear Sherlock’s shoes tapping the porch as he paced back and forth in a meek effort to stay warm in the rain. A part of you - the one that reached out to Sherlock, that was glad to have him back despite everything - wanted to let him in, hand him a cup of tea, wrap a blanket around his shoulders, and talk as though no time had passed. But the other part that inhabited a majority of your consciousness was annoyed at his patience. He wasn’t complaining about the weather or temperature on the other side of the door. In fact, he was more quiet than you remember him ever being, aside from then he was sleeping or preoccupied in his Mind Palace. After his eventful encounter with John, he must have come to the understanding that he wouldn’t be welcomed with open arms and it would take a bit of an adjustment for everybody to acclimate him into their lives again.

After sitting in silence for thirty or so minutes, John abruptly stood to his feet, causing Mary to quickly look at him on alert. Luckily her cup was empty, or else he would be responsible for the stain on your rug. “For Christ’s sake! This is enough, Y/N! You’re acting like a damn child,” John said as he walked to the front door. “I’ve let you have your moment, now I am going to let Sherlock in and you are going to have it out. Right here, right now. Not later when its dark and he’s caught hypothermia.”

Against your protests, John opened the door and nodded at his friend to come inside your home. Sherlock stepped through the threshold after shaking his hair outside, lifting his head to meet my gaze as John locked the door behind him.

It felt like a hole had been rammed through your chest again, the power of it almost knocking you back into the chair you were seated in. You took a deep, unsteady breath and clenched your fists to hide your shaking hands. Part of it was anger, but most of it was fear, anxiety. You tried to control your breathing, deep inhale followed by a deep exhale, like you had practiced when you began having panic attacks after his death.

“Please, let me explain,” Sherlock pleaded with a soft look in his eyes you’d never seen before as he gingerly took a step forward.

“I don’t want to hear from you. I don’t want to see you. I don’t even want to speak to you.” It took everything in you not to burst into tears, out of anger or frustration or sadness you didn’t know which, as you took a step back to maintain the distance between the two of you.

“Y/n, l-”

“No! Fuck! You were gone. You were dead, Sherlock! And you didn’t so much as tell me or John!” Your voice began to crack as it raised in volume. “Dead! Do you even understand that? We grieved your loss. We have borne that pain for two years now, and you think that I’m suddenly going to forgive that and let you back into my life just because you’re standing here in front of me now? That’s extremely arrogant and selfish, even for you.”

Sherlock chose his words wisely as he spoke, “Yes, I do understand.”

“No, see, I don’t think you do. Because you are incapable of feeling human emotions; you’ve said so yourself, right? They are pesky little beggars that get in the way of more important things in life, yeah?” You raised your eyebrows in expectation, waiting for him to confirm your statement to be true, since he had expressed his distaste for allowing emotions to rule him and his life many times before, and yet he remained silent. “You couldn’t possibly understand, because you thrive on suspense and mystery. On having the upper hand of knowing what others don’t, having the power to withhold information and telling others what you want them to know and when you want them to know it. You like being the know-it-all genius. What would you be without it?”

The question was rhetorical, but he answered nonetheless, “Nothing.” Your eyes widened at his response, shaken by his omission. “You’re right, I’d be nothing without my knowledge. I’m not Sherlock Holmes without my deductive skills, if I couldn’t easily figure out what others cannot. But I’m also not me without John Watson. Without you.”

His vulnerability disarmed you, and your shoulders sagged a fraction as your demeanor began to involuntarily soften up to him despite your set mind. You were taken aback by his calm and collected expression, as if admitting what he has was somewhat of a regular occupancy for him. It wasn’t, though, and you knew that it took a lot of effort for him to speak that truth aloud. You were torn between the anger of what he had done and missing him after all this time. Your heart yearned for him, and now he was standing before you - flesh and blood, alive - begging in his own reserved way for you to take him back. You knew you couldn’t forgive him on the spot, not yet anyway. But you did know that, despite all the pain he had caused you in his absence, you could accept him into your life once again.

[bytheangell]

5 Things to Put in a Pentagram to Summon Raphael Santiago

(Read on AO3) Square Filled: Pentagram for @shadowhunterbingo Pairing: Saphael (Simon Lewis/Raphael Santiago) Rating: Teen and Up  – Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Tags: fluff, fluff and humor  Summary:  Simon, desperate for any hint of what Raphael likes in an attempt to flirt with him, resorts to memes in a subtle attempt to trick the answers out of him.  -------------

Simon sends another one of those ‘about you’ sorts of memes to Raphael - this one is meant to be a list of choose ‘this’ or ‘that’ options, except Raphael doesn’t answer any of them and instead sends a wall of text back about why anyone would choose either of those options, or that he hasn’t even heard of the actors or shows listed, and-

Simon sighs, dropping his phone onto his chest as he sits on Clary’s sofa.

“Trouble in paradise?” Clary asks, raising an eyebrow.

“It isn’t working,” Simon says with another dramatic sigh. “I keep sending him those question memes to try and find out something he likes that I can use, but he just keeps criticizing them instead of giving me anything to work with.”

“You could just ask him,” Clary points out.

Simon balks at the idea. “Oh, yeah, sure, because it’s so simple. Let me just go up to the leader of the vampire clan and ask him what his favorite flowers are so I can get them for him.”

“It’s clearly better than sending him memes that ask if he prefers roses or carnations,” Clary points out.

“Because the answer is neither, they’re both so cliche,” Simon offers. “At least I’m getting a great idea of what he doesn’t like. Soon I’ll be able to narrow it down, right?”

Simon flips through his social media, his eyes catching on another meme - but this one is perfect. It’s practically fate that he finds it now of all times.

“Clary, I got it!” he yells victoriously, jumping off of the sofa to walk over and shove his phone in her face.

“The pentagram meme?” Clary asks dubiously. “Why is this your sudden revelation when all the others failed?”

“Because,” Simon says. “5 Things to Put in a Pentagram to Summon Me. It’s flawless. He’ll tell me five of his favorite things, or at least five things he at least vaguely likes, and I can use that!”

Simon hits send and waits. He knows Raphael is meeting with Magnus so he’s probably too busy to keep checking his phone, but whenever he does get it--

Simon’s phone dings and he opens the message from Raphael immediately.

His face falls.

Raphael- ...why would you need 5 things, you know all it takes is grave dirt to summon a vampire, right? You don’t even need a pentagram.

Simon sighs. “Fine, you were right. I give up.”

-------------

Raphael’s phone buzzes in his pocket and he doesn’t have to check to know that it’s Simon. Again.

“Are you going to see who it is?” Magnus asks. “It could be important.”

“Or it could be Simon with another ridiculous question game,” Raphael counters. He does check his phone because he’s the leader of the Brooklyn Vampire Clan and the one time he decides to ignore his phone would be the time the Dumort ends up on fire or something, but he only proves himself right when he sees Simon’s name and opens the message to find something about a pentagram.

“This is the fourth one this week,” Raphael mutters as he types out the obvious answer to what would be needed to summon him anywhere, which Simon definitely already knows.

“What are they, exactly?” Magnus asks. There’s something about the too-curious, lead-in tone of voice he has that makes Raphael immediately doubt the innocence of the question.

“They’re questions… ridiculous ‘would you choose this or that’ questions, or pointless lists of favorites, or this… honestly, I don’t even know what this last thing one is.”

Magnus hums to himself, a smirk playing at the corners of his lips.

“What?” Raphael demands. He doesn’t like that look at all.

“Can I see them?” Magnus asks, holding his hand out expectantly. Raphael can’t imagine how it would hurt so he hands his phone over, and watches as the smirk on Magnus’ face only spreads the more he scrolls down. “Oh, that poor boy,” Magnus mutters to himself while laughing. “Raphael, I don’t know how to break it to you… but I believe our dear Simon has a crush on you.”

Raphael nearly chokes on the air he doesn’t need to breathe, an instinctive reaction of shock. “I beg your pardon?”

“He’s trying to find out things you like,” Magnus points out, like it should be the most obvious conclusion to draw. “This last one? ‘5 Things to Put in a Pentagram to Summon Me?”

“A ridiculous question, you know that-”

“Yes, yes. But this isn’t meant to be realistic, it’s a silly mundane meme. You were supposed to tell him your five favorite things. And I’ll bet you any money if you did, he’d find a way to get them for you.”

“Why wouldn’t he just say he likes me? Or ask me what I like?” Raphael says, grabbing his phone back and scrolling through the messages from Simon again. With that new idea in mind, he can see what Magnus is implying even if he doesn’t quite believe it or understand it.

“I mean… you are a little intimidating.”

“I am not,” Raphael says, but knows the words are a lie before he finishes them. Perhaps he is a little intimidating, but it comes with the territory. But also, perhaps he’s been a little extra dismissive of Simon lately, in no small part because he hasn’t known what to do with how close Simon keeps trying to get to him. At least now he knows why.

“I should call him and ask if he’s trying to flirt with me,” Raphael decides. The moment he goes to pull up Simon’s number his phone is snatched from his hands.

“Absolutely not, you’ll scare him off forever. He’ll never admit it like that,” Magnus explains with a shake of his head.

“Then what do you propose I do?” Raphael sighs. He’s entirely out of his element here.

“Well,” Magnus starts slowly. “If you’re not entirely opposed to the idea…” he lets the sentence fall off in a question and Raphael groans at the realization that Magnus is going to make him say it out loud.

“I’m not. He’s… endearing. In his own way.”

“I thought so,” Magnus beams. “In which case, you answer his pentagram question. Give him five things to woo you with.”

“Okay. I can do that.” Raphael takes his phone back and considers his answer thoroughly before typing.

Raphael: But if we’re ignoring the laws of vampire summoning, then I suppose my pentagram would be made of my car, a very strong bloody mary, a well-tailored suit, Charlie Chaplin movies, and the smell of my mother’s cooking.

He isn’t sure what Simon is going to do with that information, but at least now he can get on with the actual business he came here to discuss with Magnus.

-------------

It takes Simon a few days to get everything he needs. His timing, however, couldn’t be better. Raphael’s been very tense the last few days, with a new fledgling testing his patience even more than Simon had when he first arrived, tensions with the werewolves again, and that was all on top of his usual grumpiness.

The poor guy needed some time away, or at least a break from the constant pressure he keeps putting himself under. So while he’s out one night Simon gets everything ready for his return in the morning - he got his hands on an entire collection of Charlie Chaplin movies, a batch of bloody marys Maia promises are strong enough to knock even Raphael off his feet, and even though he’s set up a relaxing atmosphere with the piles of blankets and pillows carefully arranged in a pile on the floor in front of the projector, instead of wearing the pajama pants Simon so desperately craves he’s dressed in a very well-tailored suit. In fact, it’s the suit Raphael let him borrow for Alec’s wedding that he may or may not have very intentionally forgotten to give back. And, to top it all off, in the corner burns a candle Simon found called ‘Homesick’ meant to smell of Mexican spices and cooking.

He couldn’t work in the car, because how is he supposed to work an entire car into this definitely-not-a-date, but he hopes that four out of five is good enough.

Simon paces relentlessly, going over what he wants to say in his head a few times. He has a few lines he’s been practicing, about Raphael deserving to be taken care of and to be happy. That’s usually as far as he gets before it dissolves into increasingly panicked rambling about how he’d totally understand if he isn’t the one Raphael wants for those things, and even in his head it usually ends with Simon fleeing before he can embarrass himself too much, which doesn’t really bode well for how things will actually go when Raphael shows up.

All he can do now is wait.

-------------

Raphael is in a worse mood than usual when he gets back to the Dumort with mere minutes to spare before sunrise. He’s exhausted and frustrated, and beyond any limit on his patience after the full night of ‘territory debate’ he engaged in with the local werewolves after thinking they were beyond all of that these days.

“Why does the hotel smell like food?”

It’s the first thing that hits him the moment he steps inside. It’s faint from the first-floor entryway but present to his heightened sense of smell.

“No one knows. It’s coming from Simon’s room but he won’t let anyone in here. Just told me to tell you to go up there when you’re back, so I guess you’re going to be the lucky one to find out,” Lily says with a curious look on her face.

Raphael sighs. He isn’t in the mood for whatever miniature disaster Simon’s got going on right now, but he does at least go up to tell Simon as much before he plans on retreating to his room to decompress for the remainder of the day.

Raphael gives a single courtesy knock before turning the handle and opening the door.

“Simon, I don’t have time for whatever-” Raphael starts, but the words fall silent abruptly at the sight before him. He catches Simon pacing and muttering to himself in front of a pile of pillows and blankets in front of a projector with a stack of DVDs next to it with Charlie Chaplin at the top and a pitcher of bloody mary. The smell from before is much stronger now, and also a lot clearer - jalapeno, butter, cream, caraway, a hint of smoke… It smells like home. Not Brooklyn, but Mexico, where he was born. He can practically see his mother standing in front of him cooking just from the scent of it as he closes his eyes and breathes it in fully.

By the time Raphael’s taken in the little details of everything Simon clearly took the time and effort to gather and set up for him, Simon is already fumbling out an apology over Raphael’s initial outburst of annoyance.

“Sorry. I should’ve asked if you were busy first. I just… shit, just pretend none of this exists, and-”

“Is this for me?” Raphael cuts him off. He knows it is - it’s almost everything he listed out on his text to Simon the other day - but even as he looks at it he doesn’t quite believe it.

“Yeah,” Simon says, the smallest hint of a hopeful smile making its way back onto his face. “You’ve just been so stressed lately, and I thought… I thought I could do something nice for you.”

“You’re wearing a suit,” Raphael observes. “You know, I never did get to see that on you when you borrowed it before. It looks good on you.”

Simon practically beams at the compliment. It’s a short-lived expression that’s replaced immediately with panic at Raphael’s next question.

“Is this a date?”

Simon sputters. “I... I mean, it doesn’t have to be. We can just… hang out. Or I can leave. And you can just relax on your own. In fact, yeah, you do that and I’ll just go now,” Simon says, the jumbled words coming out very quickly.

Magnus was right. Simon was trying to flirt with him. How did he not see it before?

“Simon, wait,” Raphael says quickly, before Simon can get to the door. “I’d like it if you stayed.”

“You would?” Simon asks, obviously surprised.

“I would,” Raphael confirms. “And I wouldn’t mind if it were a date. If you wanted it to be.”

Simon gapes. “Oh. Oh! Okay. Then… yes. This is definitely a date. I would like for this to be a date.”

Raphael laughs. “This might be the nicest thing anyone’s done for me in a very long time, you know,” he admits.

“You deserve it,” Simon tells him simply. “Do you like it? And be honest. I can take it.”

Raphael refrains from telling Simon that if he said he didn’t like it he’s pretty sure Simon might actually burst into tears, though it doesn’t matter because he does like it, much more than he imagined he would. In fact...

“I love it,” Raphael promises. “The suit part was more for me, though. You don’t have to keep that on if you don’t want to.”

“Oh thank goodness,” Simon sighs. “Because it’s nice and all but I cannot imagine sitting through all those movies in this. Be right back.”

When Simon returns in jeans and a band t-shirt they play some of the movies while sharing the pitcher of bloody mary, with Raphael explaining that they’re his favorites because his mother would play them all the time while he was younger. She always loved how universal they were, being silent movies and given that she spoke very little English when they first arrived in the States and that they reminded him of her as much as the smell of her cooking did. Simon tells him all about the ‘homesick’ candle he found called ‘Mexico’ so Raphael can order more for when he’s feeling particularly nostalgic. They laugh at the silly, mindless comedy and by the middle of the day Raphael can barely remember why he was in such a foul mood earlier.

“Thanks, Simon. I really enjoyed this,” Raphael says when the movies are over, the drinks are gone, and they both need to get some sleep.

“Does that mean you’d want to do it again sometime, maybe?” Simon asks hopefully.

“Only if you promise to actually ask me on a date instead of sending me internet quizzes,” Raphael counters.

“Hey, it worked, didn’t it?” Simon argues. “But fine. Will you go on another date with me?”

“Yes,” Raphael agrees. “But I’m planning the next one.”

“Deal,” Simon agrees. He hesitates by the doorway for a moment and Raphael can practically see him overthinking whatever gives him pause. Then Simon moves back into the room to put a hand on either side of Raphael’s shoulders, placing a quick kiss onto his cheek before he turns again and leaves.

Raphael refuses to admit how charming that kiss is. He does, however, grab his phone and send Simon the ‘5 Things to Put in a Pentagram to Summon Me’ meme. He has a second date to plan, after all.

It doesn’t take long for his phone to buzz with a text back from Simon and Raphael’s never been more grateful to be alone so that no one can see the entirely-too-fond look that crosses his face at the reply.

Simon: You, You, You, You, and You.

[xmimiteh]

As the dust settles I wanted to make a blog post about something which hit me pretty hard last week. Because at the beginning of it I received the disturbing message that the player of Blodwynn Farwind has passed away. 

He was one of my oldest childhood friends in real life. I have known him probably for more than 25 years and we have been through a lot. No matter the up and downs he always supported me. All this time our dedication to gaming in all it's forms have been the common denominator for us. We were part of the same Pen & Paper group back in our school days, played a lot of LARP together and even organized LARP conventions or user meetings for our online communities. We played together in Neverwinter Nights (1 & 2), WoW, Aion, Rift, SW:TOR, and, of course, Final Fantasy 14 - together in the same FC. Yes, it was quite a journey. This all was very important as I had to move away so we were only able to play online together - which we did quite a lot.

Blod loved playing Dragoon and I assume as his favorite Final Fantasy was the one with Cecil (FF IV), one of his favorite characters probably might have been Kain. But I am not sure about it. Of what I am sure is he could not stand Estinien. And we argued about it ... a lot! Because I really like Estinien, but Blod knew him from the original Dragoon Class Quests, in which Estinien is depticted quite differently from his appearance in Heavensward. So, of course, he could not stand him. And I just understood his point of view after I played Dragoon myself. It showed me how different the perception of characters can be depending on the direction from which you are coming.

He simply loved FF14 and it was always fun playing with him - even though we argued about tiny details, because we liked different characters, different styles of plot and so on. It would not be fun if we would agree on everything, right? These little disturbances are the “salt in the soup” (as we in Germany call it) and make it more interesting. All this seems irrelevant now and there would be so many more stories to be told. So many more to tell about this awesome and chill person whom I had to the privilege to call friend. Well, it has been about 25 years of life. And I feel like I am not allowed to stop writing of him, because there is so much more. Yet, it is hard writing all this and it all feels like an incoherent mess of a text. In the end it does not the change the final fact and pure mundanity of life.

A little more than two and a half years ago he sadly vanished completely. At first we thought it was just a short break as he had already disappeared occassionally in the past. But after some time we began to worry. Yet, all efforts to get in contact with him failed. So after a while we learned to live with it and just hoped he would appear again some day. But this will not happen as he passed away last year and we did not even know about it. We did not know how, we did not know why and we did not even know if we could have prevented it. This is the saddest part of the whole story.

I am still in shock, but I am okay - as okay as one can be in these situations. So do not worry about me. I just felt like I had to write at least a little bit about him in remembrance. Especially as perhaps some here on tumblr might remember him and his green Roegadyn. Blod had a tumblr, but I am afraid tumblr might shut it down due to inactivity after some time. But on my tumblr here are several reblogs from him. So they hopefully will not fade away too soon.

Farewell, green giant. Every Roegadyn will probably remind me of you. May you ever walk in the light of the Crystal. I am missing you already. A lot.

[romancingromanoff]

I See The Stars (Carol Danvers x femme reader)

Fluffytown trip for when the reader feels insecure about dating Carol when they’re just a normal human.

Congratulations, on behalf of the Admissions Committe we would like to offer you a place-

“YES!” you try to muffle your scream but let yourself at least fist punch the air before standing up to look over your cubicle walls and make sure nobody heard you. Looking at the clock it read 4:37, so you only had a little over twenty minutes before you could get off work and celebrate. And you knew that the first person you were going to tell was your girlfriend.

You half skip-jogged your way out from the elevator and pushed your way past the crowds of New York commuters flooding into the streets at five. Rushing down the subway steps you almost dropped your card you were just shaking with so much excitement and energy. The ride uptown had no unexpected stops or breakdowns, thank God, and you soon made it to your stop at the Wakandan Consulate. Coming up from the ground, a gasp from a nearby crowd caught your attention and you looked up to see what they were watching with a fat grin on your face. Even after six months of dating, you still got butterflies in your stomach watching your girlfriend fly around like a real life fireball. You watched her land on the roof of the consulate where some other people were waiting for her before quickly trying to cross the street to run up there and greet her yourself.

“I like the feel of it,” Carol remarked lifting up her arms and admiring how lightweight yet sturdy the new vibranium made suit she was wearing held up.

“I am glad that you do,” T’Challa smiled obviously pleased with how impressed she was. “We can also customize the colors of course. My sister, Shuri, has already come up with a few different template ideas.”

“Great, I’d love to take a look at them,” she nodded when the sight of a familiar looking little person running towards her caught her eye. “Hey baby!” she exclaimed as you ran into her arms and she lifted you up and spun you around.

You have her a quick peck on the lips before she set you down. “I got in!” you squealed and she immediately spun you around some more making you laugh. “Oof, watch the dress though,” you didn’t want the neckline slipping down anymore than it already was. At least, just not in public.”

“Sorry, but I knew you would! They’d be stupid not to take you!”

“Well, having a girlfriend that’s actually seen a black hole helps out a lot too.” You were an aspiring astro-physicist and now a soon-to-be PhD student at MIT as of thirty minutes ago. Your work primarily centered around black hole research which is why you first bombarded Carol with a load of questions that first day Tony had introduced you two. You were usually super nervous around cute girls but the nerd in you just took over and began rambling once you found out who she was. Eventually, Carol actually got so aggravated by your nonstop talking that she had to shush your lips with her finger and said, “Can you just be quiet for a second so I can get your name and ask you out on a date?” You has been utterly mortified, shocked, and flattered at the same time.

“Can we go grab some milkshakes to celebrate?”

There was a small retro diner that you’d been wanting to go try with your girlfriend. It had everything from the jukebox to the workers in paper hats to the neon lights, and, most importantly it was said to make the biggest milkshakes ever.

“I’m so sorry babe,” Carol frowns sadly. “There’s an emergency on a dwarf planet a couple of light years away from here that I need to go take care of. I won’t be back till the day after tomorrow at the earliest.”

“Oh,” you were trying so hard to hide the disappointment in your voice. “I totally understand, go save the universe sweetie.”

“Cool. I’ll let you know if I spot any black holes along the way,” she offers and you just smile as best as you can. “Oh, and can you help pick out my new suit design for me? You’re the only one I trust, babe.”

And just like that, her entire body glowed gold and she shot up through the sky and beyond the planet’s atmosphere faster than the speed of light. As you continued to watch her till she was nothing but the size of a pushpin, your phone in your pocket vibrated and you pulled it out. Your phone case was one of those clear ones you had just picked up off of a street vendor in China town for about 3 bucks but it never failed to make you smile because behind it with some dried up flower petals from cherry blossom season was your favorite polaroid picture of you and your girlfriend. Looking at it you longed for those days when Carol didn’t have to keep checking the clock or her messages to check for some galaxy wide emergency.

Your best friend had texted you asking about your admissions decision. But aside from the one message, the rest of your evening was pretty uneventful which left you and your thoughts all alone for some serious over-thinking time. You decided to walk back home most of the way since you had nothing better to do and when you got to your apartment you mechanically heated up some leftovers, sat on your couch and browsed through shows on Netflix before finally settling on the one you just rewatch over and over, then eventually passed out some time in the early morning. So when you woke up the next day, not only were your eyes extremely groggy but you also smacked your tongue at that familiar taste of overnight breath. In the bathroom you accidentally dropped your toothbrush so you ran out to a drugstore on your block to buy a new one. You really only needed one, but if you bought four in a pack then it would save you money in the long-term and you just couldn’t decide between those two options.

“Hey! I don’t got all day, lady!” a grouchy old man barked at you to make a decision and stop blocking the aisle. 

“Sorry,” you mumbled still half-awake just grabbing for the one toothbrush. As you paid for it and began to walk back to your apartment a really terrible thought dawned upon you. Was this your actual life? How was it that your girlfriend was out single-handedly saving different planets while the most impactful thing you had done today was piss off a cranky old dude? You just felt so useless compared to Carol; the idea of being so painfully normal made you question why she had even been interested in you in the first place.

“Shit,” you said opening your bag and realizing that you’d actually grabbed a children’s toothbrush. It was purple and had Skye on it from Paw Patrol but at this point you couldn’t care less. The stupid toothbrush had just helped you get through the greatest obstacle you’d had in the past two weeks. It was absolutely humiliating imagining how stupid and insignificant your problems were compared to your girlfriend’s. You just couldn’t see how she took you seriously with your lowly, mundane problems. 

“Babe, you would not believe the size of the army I just fought. One blast and I vaporized an entire ship!” Carol said entering your shared apartment to find you with your arms crossed on the kitchen table. In front of you was a bunch of scrapbooks you had been staring at all night. But what she noticed was weird was that while you were looking at all of the cut out newspaper headlines and epic shots of her that had made the news there was only one picture of yourself up there. It was a polaroid that had been taken of you when you won $1000 from a scratch ticket. In the picture you were holding it up all excited and Carol personally loved how cute you looked in it.

“What’s wrong, babe?” she could tell something was up. Her girlfriend was just not in her usual chipper mood and she seemed awfully down wearing her grey sweatpants that matched the dark circles under her eyes.

Carol rests her hand on your shoulder but turn and walk away not brave enough to face her. “You do all of this amazing stuff everyday like it’s no big deal. You have powers and have been to places that I probably can’t even dream about they’re so complicated. I just don’t understand why you’d be interested in me - just a normal human. I mean, it’s not even like I have special powers like your other friends and could ever keep up with you.”

“Y/N, that’s not important to me.”

“No, Carol, you don’t understand. I can’t even let you pick me up and fly me around with you because I have freaking asthma. I just feel like you’re always grounded because of me and I just hold you down when you could be doing so much more with anyone else.”

“Listen to me,” the blonde kneeled down next to your seat and took your hands into hers with a fierceness and look of determination in her eyes. She wanted you to take her words very seriously. “I love you for you. There’s nothing that you have to prove to me because I already fell in love with the girl who’s extremely smart when, frankly, I rush into bad decisions; the girl who’s patient with me when I’m quick-tempered; the girl who’s selfless when I’m arrogant; and the girl who also loves me for more than just being able to shoot fire out of my fists. You hate thinking that you keep me grounded? Y/N, you’re the only one that keeps me sane most of the time! Before I met you I was so lost and had no idea where my place was in the universe, but you brought me back down to Earth and reminded of where I belong and who I am. Nobody else can do that.”

You sniffle because even though you’ve been telling yourself for the past few days that you’re not special at all, only Carol can make you feel this way. Only she can make you feel like you’re the only person in the universe that matters.

“I need you, you dork,” she snorts playfully pulling on your hands. “Without you I’m just Captain Marvel to everyone else and to myself. You helped bring back the girl that I’ve always been: Carol. She wouldn’t be here without you. I wouldn’t be here without you,” she gently cups your cheek in her hand and you notice its still a bit warm and cooling down, but that just shows you how intensely she’s feeling these feelings for you. 

She moves her lips up to plant a small kiss on your forehead (which have always been a favorite of yours and hers) before moving down to take your lips into her own with a gentleness she rarely shows to other people. This softer side of her is just reserved for you; only you can tame her when her flame gets to be too wild and you cry into the kiss just thinking about what she’s trying to show you with her light, considerate touches. But she’s also more than welcome to deepen it when you start letting your own feelings of passion take over and you speed up the pace. There really is a beautiful balance between the two of you that you don’t plan on messing up ever.

[antiquesounds]

A440. Not A435. Why?

I had a wonderful time looking through the original armistice and supporting document that showed that in 1919, the post-war European community and North America committed to 435 Hz for the standard Diapason Normal. 

However, anyone who follows Western music knows that the current standard is 440 Hz.  The next phase of this quest begins with the looking at some political impact of the Treaty of Versailles.  Not only is what I am going to write, “arm-chair” history, it is also based a lot on my limited grade school training (may I say, ca 1970′s-biased) and based upon very small selected reading about the era of mid-late 19th and early 20th century geopolitics. And, as an amature affectionatto of comic art, a lot of what I see about U.S. posturing and waffelling during the early 20th century is based upon the wonderful political comics from the era. As my parents used to ask me when I was young, “How’d you know that?” And I’d point to the political cartoon from the paper that day. 

Source Ohio State University - https://hti.osu.edu/opper/lesson-plans/wilsons-14-points/images/barring-his-way

Coincidentally, I heard a wonderful interview with an author that has just released a book on this subject in general.   How to Hide an Empire by Daniel Immerwar is on my to-read list. The book has more to do with territorial United States. But the general imperialist drive was as strong as ever post-war. Like a nasty big brother trying to take most of the cake after the fight was over, the political posturing inside and outside the U.S. was mostly to take and make itself more globally important and culturally powerful.

In the 1930′s (pre WWII), there is little argument that the United States delivered a global political posture of Imperialism - if not outright colonialism that had extended from the Spanish-American war through the Roosevelt era. A lot has been written about Wilsonian policies. You wouldn’t think this would have anything to do with concert performance standards in Europe post-war, but in fact, one of the most amazing things I learned while perusing the Treaty of Versaille is this entire section 2. Section 2-  Article 282, has all of the kitchen sink items that the countries deemed necessary to settle once and for all. I liken this to being the part where the negotiators say to the parties, “And sirs, is there anything else you guys want to settle here once and for all?”  Like a kid saying, “Yeah, and I wanted that candy, too!”  So a whole bunch of interesting stuff came out of that list. I will share some of that later. 

Deeper reading into the history of diapason normal debates going back to the 1855 treaty mentioned in the prior post taught me that this battle over both the creation of the “normal” and the value of the normal (435 versus 440, versus other frequencies) went way back prior to the 19th century especially in Europe (North America still being a western world social pariah in the 18th century.) So I can easily accept that this would be on the list of “wish we coulds” for the armistice of 1917. Now that I saw the context of the list of things included in that section, it became more obvious that it actually makes sense to have this in the treaty. I am a converted man on this subject now. I am not longer scratching my head about it being referenced here. “No more fighting, boys. We addressed all of your issues. Okay?”  If you want to be shocked at how extreme this is, check out the actual list (see page 170)! Here it is:

So far, pretty mundane.  Mostly agreed upon tolls and tariffs and an interesting standardization of railroads #4 (tracks and such if you look into it). I will note some things that put this into context and save the details for my next post on this subject.  But #2 is REALLY cool. I will share more on this that later. Any reference to “motor-cars” piques my interest. Also note #1 which makes sense post-war. And we go on... 

 With 12-14 back to tolls and tariffs. Then come the SOCIAL ones. This is what is so interesting. Again, take this in context. The winning powers (big brothers) after the fight are now going to pick the things they get to enforce on the world (or at least for Europe for now). The war to end wars is supposed to stop the bickering and delivery all the rules on how to behave. This includes a new set of social norms. I keep saying this, and I will say it again. I will get back to a few of these specific items on why they seem so silly here, but were of huge geopolitical social importance in 1919.  Amazingly, look at #15, 17-18, and 26 as progressive and at the same time regressive social rules. And then look at #16 (what is that about? Matches???) and 25, bird? and our favorite “Concert pitch”. It is like a kitchen sink of items. I assure you that when you look at these in detail, they each represent a longer term social issue that was unresolved. And, often, the issue was quite significant to the overall worldwide population.

But I digress. The diapason normal was 335 Hz in 1919. After this, there was a push to make a formal standard committee embrace this diapason normal under a different set of standards - literally.   I found evidence that going into this battle in Europe, in the United States, there was a belief that “science” showed little difference between 435, 438 (the compromise proposed) and 440 (the German standard). Even in the United States, there is documentation that describes how some scientists wanted to leave well enough alone and leave it at 435. 

However, between the wars, it seems that the United States and German did not participate in the 435 standard. The Acoustical Society of America decided that the standard should be 440. Why? I do not know. But by 1936, the Americans sided with the 440 and placed it into their standard. This does not make it diapason normal, though. So for what seems to be the time between 1936 (WWII) and 1955, the United States joined with Germany in continuing to use 440 as the tuning standard, while the treaty said it should be 435! I was surprised by this. Several documents point to this, but do not explain why The U.S. was so bull headed about this. If the research (and I dare say, common assumptions) would tell you that once established, nobody can tell the difference, then why did the U.S by themselves put it into their standards in 1936 (less than 20 years after Europe resolved the issue). I have no answer on this. I have a post facto answer/excuse that arrives after the next stage, but nothing as to why this was such a big deal to the U.S  in 1936. There are conspiracy theories about this because of the German connection but those seem like they are contrived. 

After WWII, the same push that drove the standardization post WWI happened again after WWII but as far as I can tell, there was no post-WWII declaration of standard pitch. However, there was a push again for the scientific community to come together on international standards. In 1947, the International Standards Organization was formed (ISO). Many people are familiar with ISO. It establishes, documents, and helps evolve standards for just about everything. I have had personal experiences with ISO over the years with data communication and quality standards. One example that everyone experiences daily is the ISO 9000 standard suite for quality.   

The ISO came out of a drive in the post-war era to deliver a more generic solution to that problem described in the post WWI days. In other words, for those things that require universal standardization (like concert pitch?), we need an international organization to address this need. For example, if we want to standardize on household electrical power norms -- even if we cannot change our world-wide deployment (110 volts versus 220 volts for example), at least we need to document and define these differing standards so that the worldwide community can interoperate. I consider this to be more of a meta-level approach to solving the same issue that the Treaty of Versaille Section II, Article 282 tried to address. This is a guiding principle of the organization, and remains a lofty goal.  In 1955 the 440 Hz standard was officially entered as ISO 16.  I did not pull it because it costs money to see it but it is here: https://www.iso.org/standard/3601.html. 

This still bugged me though, because why would they have taken the U.S. request for 440 over older established 435? And, does this mean that diapason normal is not the same as ISO 16? Well, frankly, I am not completely sure on the last point. I see no formal migration to the ISO standard although I do see a relinquishing of stature in some supporting texts from the era. It is fair to say that the world has conceded, but I still do not see where it did so with a revised diapason normal declaration. Here is a funny clip from The Acoustical Society of America as late as 1971 was lamenting that Europe still had not come around on this.

 [Note that ISO reformalized ISO 16 as A440 Hz in 1977. A coincidence?]

So here is where I found the most useful reasoning behind the continuing push by the U.S. to make everything based upon 440 Hz.  It is because of warfare and communications. This is the punchline to the whole thing. 

I found out that starting way back around 1949 the U.S. government was looking at which frequencies were best for different broadcasting needs. Assuredly, these all had to do with military and espionage usage There is evidence that they believed 440 and 600 to be the best for delivery of communication tones (audible). It is not a huge leap to assume that this belief also drove a campaign to enforce the standard on the world. The organization to look at is NOT ISO but rather, NIST (U.S. National Institute of Standards.) And, in hindsight, this makes complete sense to me. NIST would drive all U.S. standards especially as pertains to radio broadcast and military.  

Here is an example of such a document. I misplaced the one that originally capped my discovery. But this is a representative similar document. And this one, too. 

In fact, to this day, there is a growing stack of documents that describe how and why 440 Hz is used as the standard for synchronization tones. It’s the tone that is used when we listen to NIST WWV timeclock at the top of the hour.  The reason is that this tone is apparently what was believed to be the best (least-lossy) audible tone frequency.

So possibly, the push to deliver a hard 440 Hz standard had something to do with 1949 -1960 thoughts on best possible audible tone over radio. It sure seems that way. And it is definitely the common NIST mantra since 1960. See the end of this doc for oodles of examples: 

https://tf.nist.gov/general/pdf/1969.pdf

One parting thought on the A440. While researching this I found a whole bunch of crackpot theories about A432 being some sort of universal vibration. A432 is just another of the possible frequencies one could choose as a standard. And, indeed it was in the mix of options over the centuries this has been fraught. If you wanted to tune to any frequency that you want, you could. Who gives a darn? And just because 432 was used by someone for some reasons long ago doesn’t necessarily mean that it is “better”. It is a fixed tone used to derive other relative tones in music. So it really doesn’t matter until or unless you get all freaky-deaky about the differences in relative microtones for western scales. And if you care that much, 432 doesn’t solve all of those issues anyway.

 All I can say is that it made me feel a bit better about myself seeing that others are more nonsensical about their 432 Hz desires than I was about my historic research. I thought I was wasting MY time doing all of this research. But think of all the wasted energy surrounding this sort of notion and the other various conspiracy theories about various pitches being part of betterment of life. 

Next post will be about those other amazing discoveries associated with The Treaty of Versailles. cars, birds, and sulphur matches up next.   Those side discoveries were the best part of it all. 

[seriouslyhooked]

Scoring Your Love (Part 14/?)

Part One, Part Two, Part Three, Part Four, Part Five, Part Six,Part Seven,Part Eight, Part Nine, Part Ten, Part Eleven, Part Twelve, Part Thirteen. Story also on FF here and AO3 here. Banner by the wonderful @timetravelandfairytales

Modern AU where Killian is a world famous soccer star who has hit rock bottom and been sentenced to the place where ‘football’ legends go to die – America. While here he crosses paths with Emma, an up and coming musician and film scorer who challenges everything he thought he knew and makes him want more than the game he’s always loved. Will be filled with fluff for days. Rated M.

A/N: Okay friends I’m back, as I said I would be, and I can PROMISE that I am not leaving at such an unfortunate place with this chapter as I did last time. No, no, no. The time for cliffhangers and what-ifs is behind us. That being said I hope you will enjoy this installment and thank you for reading!

When he was a child, Killian had been told time and time again that staring at a clock wouldn’t make time move faster. He assumed the same logic worked for cell phones, and so it was arguably fruitless for him to keep staring at this blasted contraption. Surely Emma wouldn’t respond sooner because he wished it to be so. All the same, he was feeling restless and worried not having heard back from her all day.

It was very unlike Emma to leave him hanging. In all the time they’d been together Emma was nothing if not effective at communicating. Even in the depths of her most music-heavy moments, she was a creature of habit. Emma took breaks and checked in with the world in that time, and so the fact that he hadn’t heard from her since she left his place this morning was alarming. Couple that with the fact that they were supposed to see each other at eight and it was now well past ten and Killian was really starting to fear the worst. He knew in his heart something wasn’t right, but short of calling her friends or showing up at her place, what could he do? For the moment the answer did not present itself, so he found himself pacing around the kitchen, stopping every few minutes to check his phone again.

Last night Killian had faced a moment that brought real and tangible fear to the forefront of his life for the first time in a long time. The confrontation with Gold had angered him and terrified him too, but despite all Killian’s misgivings about coming clean, Emma had been accepting of the mess that stained his past. It had been the hardest thing he’d ever done to fess up to her, and though there were moments of heartache where he watched her taking in some of the worse mistakes he’d made, he’d never met a person who was so rational in the face of emotion like Emma.

It turned out that Emma had this ability Killian never anticipated where she could reason through all of his bad choices and all of the happenings that had brought him to LA. She’d listened carefully, asking questions where they were needed and putting together the pieces of a puzzle Killian wished wasn’t so convoluted. Then, at the end of it all she’d not only accepted him, she’d shared her own demons too. If Killian were to wager on it, he’d say he now knew every part of Emma’s past that Regina’s little file had contained months ago, and having that exchange of past missteps between them had made it possible to overcome his fear. After everything, Emma still trusted him, and for Killian that was the single most important thing.

With the truth out there in full, Gold’s power was now seriously lacking in Killian’s estimations. Perhaps Gold had sway with the press and with teams in his old league, but since Killian only cared about his relationship with Emma, and since Emma had assured him that she was in this for the long haul, bad press or not, he felt like he had everything. No matter what may come professionally, Killian had more than enough to keep him blissfully happy as long as he had Emma by his side.

The only problem was that right now she wasn’t here, and the more time that passed, the more Killian began to worry that Emma had changed her mind. Maybe in the light of day this had all gotten to be too much for her. Perhaps some time between when she’d left for work this morning and now she’d seen the light and realized she was worth more than such a sorry state of affairs. He hoped that wasn’t the case, knowing he’d never move on from Emma Swan, but just as the wave of uneasiness around him began to crescendo to an all time high, his phone rang.

“Emma,” Killian murmured aloud as he went to grab it, but instead of seeing her name it was his brother’s. Again. Fuck!

Killian had been barely keeping in touch with Liam since the last spat they’d had, but today his brother had been calling and texting him more than usual. If it was an emergency, Killian would have known – but from what Liam had written he just ‘wanted to talk.’ Whatever Liam believed to be so important, now was not the time to be speaking about it. He had more pressing matters and no patience for whatever business happenings or sport politics Liam was no doubt intrigued by. Killian ignored the call and threw the phone back on the counter. Seconds later there was a knock at the door. Again hope swelled in Killian’s chest, but when he looked to see who was there, he was completely shocked.

“Liam? What the hell are you doing here?”

“You’ve been ignoring me,” Liam said by way of answer as he let himself into the apartment.

Killian looked his brother over, finding Liam just the same as when Killian had left him back in London. If anything Liam was harder now, his suit starched to an almost painful crispness and his blue eyes looked cold and distant. He appeared ever the professional, but Killian could also sense that he would not like what his brother had come here to say. There was an edge to Liam’s presence, and where that edge came, a row was almost sure to follow.

“So you got on a plane and flew here?” Killian asked, incredulous that his lack of response would prompt such a bold move.

“I did what I had to do. Two minutes a day hardly cuts it, Killian.”

“I’ve been busy,” Killian replied, knowing that was true even if Liam had a point. If Killian hadn’t been angry still he would have given his brother more attention. Unfortunately for Liam, Killian hadn’t fully forgiven him for his reaction to learning about Emma.

“Oh trust me brother, I know,” Liam replied, dropping a stack of papers on the table. Killian looked down and saw that the pile contained dozens of photos and that the subjects of the shots were he and Emma.

“Are you spying on me?” Killian asked, the anger in his voice apparent as his arms folded over his chest. If Liam were spying it would be such a flagrant crossing of any line of decency that Killian didn’t know how they’d come back from it, but Liam scoffed at the query like it was utterly preposterous.

“Hardly. These were sent to me this morning, and while I’ll admit that most of these are rather dull, there are a few worth seeing.”

Liam pulled the photos in question out of the lineup and the sight of them made Killian’s heart drop. While the others were mundane shots of Emma and Killian on dates and about town together, the ones Liam fixated on were taken today. Killian could tell because Emma was wearing the same yellow dress and braided hair that she’d left with this morning, but she didn’t look anywhere near as happy as she’d been when they said goodbye. That no doubt had to do with the fact that she wasn’t alone in any of these photos. Gold was with her, and his presence immediately set off warning bells in Killian’s head.

“Where did you get these?” Killian asked, his fingers tracing them over as the ire in his heart grew stronger. He didn’t have any details but already he knew Gold had done something monstrous and it filled Killian with rage to think that man would have the audacity to approach Emma where she worked. At the same time a creeping sense of dread worked its way up through his system. The only reason Emma had to deal with such a lunatic was because of Killian. He was in some ways responsible for this, and it made him ill to think he had put Emma in the path of such a tyrant.  

“Don’t know, don’t care,” Liam replied too cavalierly for Killian’s liking. “What I do care about is finding out just how deep you’re in with this woman.”

“Excuse me?” Killian asked, not following.

From what he could see in these shots, Emma was repulsed by Gold and she wasn’t trying to hide it. She looked angry, and in one photo she actually look hurt. It was clear as day that this was an ambush and a set up, but Killian supposed that to others who didn’t know her Emma’s poker face might come across as convincingly unaffected. Knowing her as well as he did, Killian could read every emotion without doubt, but Liam went on to pitch a completely different story of events Killian would never consider.

“Oh come off it brother. I just chartered a bloody plane to make you see what’s so clearly there. She’s playing you, Killian. It’s the only explanation.” Killian wanted to interrupt but Liam raised his hand to silence him and pressed on.  “I looked into it. Gold’s a secret partner on the show she works on and he’s planning on funneling millions more into the project, enough to guarantee a multi-season arc. He’s essentially paying her salary for the next three years, and what’s more these pictures go back to the very day the two of you met.”

Killian’s gaze moved to an image of him and Emma on the street together that first morning. It was insane that this had been documented, and in a different situation he might be grateful. How many people got the chance to see photographic proof of the moment they fell in love at first sight? But the person behind these photos was a sick and twisted man. A man with no moral fiber who would clearly stop at nothing to try and ruin Killian, including dragging a perfectly innocent woman into the darkness with him.

“Gold has known of Emma since the start, brother,” Liam continued, clearly not seeing that Killian found all his analysis to be complete and utter rubbish. “What are the chances that one of his paps just happened to be there when you two first met? No, I wouldn’t put it past him to have set all of this up. It’s a con, Killian, and I believe Emma is in on it.”

Words failed Killian in this moment. He was so unspeakably angry at the accusation he was sure steam must be physically spewing out his ears. How dare his brother insinuate that Emma was some kind of prop or con woman! Liam didn’t know her. He didn’t know a damn thing about her, but here he was passing judgment, again! Killian had no interest in even responding to such drivel and instead he left the kitchen, moving to the door to grab his jacket and his keys. Now he had a better idea of what was happening even if he was still mostly in the dark. Gold had ambushed Emma today, and if he were to guess he’d threatened her with something. Whatever he’d said had actually scared Emma, and Killian couldn’t have that. She had to know that he would protect her and he wouldn’t waste another moment waiting to assure her of that.

“Where are you going?” Liam asked, alarmed at Killian’s ignoring him, but Killian didn’t give a damn. Instead he slammed the door behind him and headed out.

The usually quick drive over to Emma’s place felt like it took a small eternity, and by the time he’d arrived Killian was shaking from the excess adrenaline in his system. He didn’t know what lay in store for him behind Emma’s front door, but he knew he had to fix it. He marched up to her apartment and knocked loudly. He prayed that Emma was here and that she would open up and let him in, and a few moments later the door opened and a noticeably irate Ruby appeared.

“Where is she?” Killian asked, not bothering with any kind of polite greeting as he tried to move inside. Ruby kept her body in front of the entry, denying him access.

“Oh no you don’t,” she said defensively before dipping her voice low with even more fury sewn in. “I don’t know what you did, Killian Jones, but I have a mind to kick your ass. You said you wouldn’t hurt her. You promised me.”

“I know,” Killian said, feeling defeated. “But you have to understand -,”

“I don’t have to do anything, asshole! You fucked with the wrong girl. You think you can just break my best friend’s heart and get away with it? Not gonna -,”

“Ruby, don’t,” a small voice said from behind them. Killian knew that it was Emma though he couldn’t see her given Ruby’s command of the doorway. “It’s not what you think.”

“Hold on a minute,” Ruby said to Killian, and before he could argue the door shut in his face again and the locks were put back in place. Behind the door Killian could hear muffled whispering, and though he couldn’t make out words he knew Emma must have said something to appease Ruby’s protective instincts. A few more seconds passed and she opened the door again. “You have five minutes.”

“Ruby,” Emma said, chastising her friend and Ruby sighed.

“Fine. You have until Emma decides to kick you out. Satisfied?” Ruby asked Emma and Emma gave a tiny smile. Ruby took that as enough sign that Emma was doing okay and then she slipped through the front door and down the hall, leaving Killian and Emma alone.

Taking in her appearance, Killian felt a tremendous sense of guilt and heartache. His Swan’s beautiful green eyes were rimmed with red like she’d been crying for a while, and her expression was both exhausted and forlorn. It tore Killian apart to see Emma that way, for even if he hadn’t been the direct cause of those tears he was the one who burdened her with Gold in the first place. Whatever that demon of a man had done… well Killian would never forgive himself for the pain it was causing Emma.

“Killian… I’m so sorry,” Emma whispered, surprising him with her words.

He moved towards her, counting himself a blessed and fortunate man when she didn’t shy away. Instead she melted into him and he wrapped her up in his embrace, breathing in the scent of her as he kissed the crown of her head. Killian’s eyes closed for a moment as he let himself take comfort in holding her again. Having her in his arms was the only thing that could heal the pain he’d been harboring since Liam arrived, and he thanked God that whatever had happened, Emma wasn’t decidedly against the two of them being together. She was still open to him, even if she hadn’t come to him like he wished she would.

“Emma, I promise you, whatever you’re thinking you have no reason to be sorry. You just have to tell me what happened. What did Gold say to you?”

“You know about Gold?” Emma asked, clearly surprised and Killian filled her in as quickly as he could about Liam. He tried to breeze over the fact that his brother didn’t trust her, and luckily she allowed him to divert back to the central question – what had happened to make her act this way?

“Please, love, just tell me,” he begged and soon enough she relented.

“He came to me today and he…” her voice broke but she held it together, willing herself not to cry. “He said that if I continued to see you, if I even so much as replied to a text, that he’d know and he’d end your career. He said the deal you had with Regina meant nothing, and that the only way you’d ever play in the leagues where you belong again was if I…”

Her ability to speak collapsed in that moment. She released a broken sob and Killian’s whole body felt the impact of it. He was distraught at her grief, but as the intention of Gold’s plan became apparent to him, his emotions began to blur into something he couldn’t fully understand.

“If you left me,” Killian filled in numbly as Emma nodded, her tears still streaming down her beautiful face.

It was all so clear to him now. Gold’s goal was to take everything Killian loved and leave his life an ashen wasteland in the process. Killian just never imagined that Gold could come this close to totally destroying all Killian held dear. Losing the game would have been a blow, but losing Emma would have crushed him entirely. There would be no recovery. He didn’t think he was strong enough to take that kind of pain.

“So you were just going to end it then?” Killian asked, his voice a hollow sound so unfamiliar to his ears.

“I didn’t want to, but it seemed like the only way.”

The only way? It wasn’t a way at all! Life without Emma wasn’t something he was interested in, and when he considered the leverage Gold had it was nothing. So what if he never played another bloody game in his life? It wouldn’t matter, and Emma should have known that. He’d been trying to show her that for months, but she didn’t see. Hell, maybe she didn’t want to see because she herself didn’t feel the same.

“Was it that easy for you to say goodbye?” Killian asked, his own hurt and insecurity getting the better of him.

“Easy?” Emma parroted like she couldn’t believe he’d described it that way. “You think this is easy? Today has been one of the worst days of my life, Killian. Staying away from you has been the hardest thing I’ve ever done. I almost gave in a thousand times.”

“But you didn’t. You made a choice.”

“A choice for you!” Emma yelled as her arms waved in the air. “Don’t you get that? I couldn’t let him take your dream, Killian. I had to protect you. That’s what you do when you love someone – you fight for them and you do anything you can to see them happy!”

Though her irritation was undeniable, there was only one thing in that moment that stuck out to Killian.

“You love me?” Killian asked. More tears spilled from her eyes as Emma looked down to the floor.

“Of course I love you, but it’s not enough because -,”

Whatever Emma was going to say, Killian couldn’t bear to let her say it. For though the circumstances were anything but ideal, his greatest wish had just been achieved. Emma Swan, the best woman who he had ever met, had just confessed that she loved him. Through some miracle this woman had given him her heart, and she didn’t see that that was everything. With this kiss he hoped to show her how precious her love was and to make her see that nothing else even registered when compared to that. Their relationship was all that he needed, plain and simple, and when they broke apart from the kiss he made sure to say that as clearly as he possibly could.

“The only dream I have that matters, love, is the one where you and I are together from here on out. I don’t give a damn about any of the rest of it. I just want you, Swan. Because I love you, more than anything in the world.”

“You do?” Emma asked, her tears having shifted to happy and relieved ones as her lips curled upward in a hopeful smile.

“Aye, love. There is no choice. Football’s a game, but you… Emma, you’re everything. I can’t live without you, Swan. I won’t do it.”

“I don’t want that either,” Emma promised, her hands holding tight to his shirt as if she was afraid he’d slip away somehow. “I was just scared. I didn’t want to take your choice away. I didn’t know how I’d live without you, but I didn’t want you to resent me.”

“I understand, Emma, really I do,” he assured her. “But you have to promise me that from now on you run to me. Whatever it is, whatever the threat, we will face them together. It’s the only way.”

“I promise.”

The two of them seemed to be of the same mind in that moment, opting to forego anymore talking and to find their reassurance through each other. They kissed again, this time with just as much heat but a deeper rooted need to take things further. For Killian’s part, he was determined to love Emma as she deserved, and that would start with taking her back to her bed and ravishing her fully. They managed to get to her room without breaking apart, and once the door was closed, Killian had her pushed against it. Instinctively he rubbed the hard and heaving lines of his body against hers, reveling in the shiver that coursed through her and the breathy pants of need she set free.

“Killian.”

His name was a sigh on her lips as her fingers came to rip his shirt off and then his came to tear hers away as well. It riled him to see more of his love exposed to him, but while Emma seemed intent on moving quickly, Killian couldn’t bear to. Tonight he wanted slow and steady, a declaration of the way his love for her would last forever. He wanted to map out every luscious piece of her and pull every type of pleasure from her body, but first he needed something from her.

“I need you to say it, Emma.”

“I love you,” she said without hesitation, understanding him fully and he released a growl at that, tearing off the rest of the layers between them. He maneuvered her to her bed and from there he was a man on a mission.

“Again, Emma,” he commanded as his mouth hovered just above her breasts, his hand teasing upward on her thigh, headed to the place she wanted him most.

“I love you, Killian. God I love you so much,” she said as her eyes closed and her body arched upwards. He rewarded her as his fingers entered her and his thumb brushed her clit. She moaned and then his mouth moved to her hard peak and her hands ran through his hair. In no time at all she was riled to a state where release was imminent, and without his even needing to ask she murmured that she loved him again.

Her orgasm washed over her as Killian gave her everything she needed, but while she came down from the high, Killian was hardly finished. He worked to rile her up again quickly, and by the time his mouth was at her sex she was whimpering for more. His eyes flicked back up to hers. She watched him with a wild expression, and the need and love he saw there on her face had his hard length jerking almost painfully.

Killian believed that Emma must think she was saying the words again, but truth be told she was so consumed with sensation, her exclamations weren’t exactly coherent. Instead they were the most beautiful music to his ears, a serenade of Emma’s want for him that he’d memorize if it killed him. He warred with his want to finish her quickly and give his Swan what she wanted, but instead he tormented her with his mouth and skilled tongue. Only when her whole body was flush with need and she was practically begging did he send her over, and then he kissed his way back up above her, waiting for her eyes to blink open again before he told her all he felt.

“There has never been another love like the one I have for you, Swan. There is no me without you anymore. I’m changed now. You changed me, and I am yours, forever. Just as your mine. We belong together, love, and that’s exactly how we’ll stay.”

“Mine,” Emma whispered happily, the mistiness of her tears returning as she ran her fingers along his jaw. 

Killian knew what this meant for Emma. She’d told him how much it hurt in her past to not belong to anyone – to never have anyone claim her and to not have someone to claim in turn. Her friends had been the only exception, a family she was blessed to have, but the truth was that she dreamed of more, and Killian would be that dream for her. It was only fair, after all, since she was every good thing in his life and so much more.

With a hard thrust, Killian filled Emma completely and he had to stall for a moment at the tight wet hold of her heat. Fuck, she was perfect, made for him in all ways, and it felt like a miracle every damn time he was in her. When he moved again and set a rhythm designed for satisfaction, all thoughts fled his mind. There was only getting them both to that state of perfect bliss, and when they found it the two of them had both been of the same mind, saying those three little words to each other at the moment that they fell apart.

“So how long do you think this will last?” Emma murmured sometime later as her fingertips trailed across his chest lightly, drawing a design neither he nor she was conscious of.

“This?” Killian asked, assuming she meant the relationship between them. “Well Swan, I thought I was rather clear in my promise to you. I said forever and I meant it.”

“No not us,” Emma said laughing as she shook her head. “I meant -,”

Before Emma could get her thought out a loud knocking came from the front door and it as accompanied by an equally audible proclamation.

“All right, you two. I’m coming inside this apartment now, so if there was some super hot make up sex that didn’t make it to the bedroom, now is the time to relocate!”

“There we go. I knew she’d be back,” Emma said giggling as she ducked her head into Killian’s chest.

“I guess we should count ourselves lucky. A whole two hours. She showed a lot of restraint,” Killian joked and Emma shook her head as she sat up, slipping from the bed and getting some clothes on. Killian followed suit, hating that this moment had ended, but knowing he would end up in bed with Emma tonight regardless. There would be no more leaving. Not now. Not anymore.

“Oh believe me, someone kept her busy,” Emma replied. “Only question is was it the girls, or was it Graham?”

“I told you they wouldn’t be out here in the living room, Red. You owe me five bucks,” Graham said from where he and Ruby were now in the apartment and Emma covered her mouth to stifle more laughter as Ruby responded.

“Trust me, Humbert, once Emma gives me the all clear, I’ll make it up to you, and what I have in mind is a whole lot better than ‘five bucks.’”

“Oh God,” Emma said with feigned severity as she took Killian’s hand. “Come on, let’s go tell them the good news. The sooner we do, the sooner they leave.”

“Ah, can’t deny I like the sound of that, love.”

And with one last kiss, the two of them set forth to assure their friends that the storm had passed, knowing all the while that the next time trouble came they’d be ready and that they’d always have each other, no matter what.

Post-Note: So there we have it – I told you guys I would fix things up and the biggest hurdle is now conquered. Trust me when I say that any CS based angst is behind us now, and while there might be some more hiccups, the love isn’t going anywhere. We haven’t quite seen the last of Gold yet (or Liam either), but Emma and Killian are ready for the battles, whenever they might come. Anyway, I hope that you guys liked the chapter, and I want to let you all know that I am not exactly sure when the next chapter will be up. I will be launching a new story next weekend as a part of CSSNS and I am not sure if that will effect when this story gets added to. That being said this story still has five whole chapters and an epilogue left, so don’t worry. It might take a little longer for an update to come, but it will come, I promise. Thanks so much for reading and I hope you enjoy the rest of your weekend!

[florulosa]

The Observer

Interview

Florence Welch: ‘I wonder sometimes, did I dream too big?’

By Eva Wiseman

After wild years of all-night partying, Florence Welch has found a calmer way to live. She talks to Eva Wiseman about the ‘magic energy’ that drives her and how she’s finally learning to make sense of herself



Sun 24 Jun 2018 08.00 BSTLast modified on Sun 24 Jun 2018 17.24 BST

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There was a time when the voice of Florence Welch was as inescapable as an ambulance siren. “You’ve got the love, youuuu…” It blasted from car windows, it shot over sporting montages, it echoed through Primark. And then, just as quickly, it was gone.

Now 31, her hair less roaring fire, more gentle sunset, Florence Welch is a calmer woman than the whirling girl behind three number one albums who headlined Glastonbury in a silver suit. Today, removing her jewellery so as not to jangle over the tape recorder, she looks like the Lady of Shalott in blue jeans. It was during that everywhere period, when Welch could hear herself coming every time she stepped out of the house, that she started to crack, slightly.

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“That’s when the drinking and the partying exploded, as a way to hide from it. I was drunk a lot of the time, on extra dirty Martinis – my way of drinking three shots at once. I was never interested in,” and she laughs, bitterly, “a nice glass of wine.” She says the phrase as if it were an urban myth; she had always enjoyed a party. It was in the toilets of a London nightclub that, in 2006, she auditioned in front of her now-manager, becoming Florence and the Machine and breaking America three years later. In that period she rarely slept. When she got home after a two-day party, she was always in trouble. She’d get a text, typically, “Where RU?” “And I’d be like, ‘I’m not quite sure, but I’m wearing someone else’s clothes…’ The partying was about me not wanting to deal with the fact my life had changed, not wanting to come down. It always felt like something had picked me up and thrown me around various rooms and houses, then gone ‘boom!’” She flings her arms out theatrically. “It happened every time, and every time it was shocking.”



 ‘Before, I thought I ran on a chaos engine’: Florence wears a dress by Giambattista Valli and jewellery by Annina Vogel. Photograph: Phil Fisk for the Observer

But still, the music came, these huge bloody songs about love and loss – the director Greta Gerwig described them to Welch as “the deepest, darkest well of pain, and then you just throw a big party in there and invite everybody”. It makes Gerwig cry, she admitted, uncontrollably. The sound took some time to shape – it wasn’t until she started making music with another young woman, Isa Summers, that they emerged with the single Dog Days Are Over, a huge Kate Bush-ian snarl of a pop song that came to define her. Until then she’d been working with older male producers. “And there was an unconscious deferral, a bias against myself that felt ingrained.” Four albums in, she’s still making music the same controlled, “feminine” way, the only difference being today she knows when to take things out. “When it’s too… Florencey?” I nod then stop, for fear of seeming rude.

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As she approached the 10th anniversary of this career that became very big very fast, she decided to sober up. “When I realised I could perform without the booze it was a revelation. There’s discomfort and rage, and the moment when they meet is when you break open. You’re free.”

On stage, she says, she always felt absolved – nobody was angry with her up there. It was her offstage life that she had to work on. Up there she will climb the scaffolding, holding on with one hand, leaping into the crowd and ripping her top off when she gets too sweaty. After those nights it’s quite hard for her to return to earth. Everything, she explains, starts to take on a magical significance. There will be moments – sitting in a friend’s room watching TV, for instance – when, sleep-deprived and sober, she will be suddenly awed. “Mundane moments become incredibly profound. The performing, the transcendence, then sitting watching TV – all can coexist, and the mundane makes the magical. Maybe I’m trying to hold on to normalcy. Maybe because being onstage has become normal, the pockets of peace seem really wild. But I treasure them.”

So she stopped drinking and she started staying in, and last night she watched the entire new series of Unbreakable Kimmy Schmidt. “I think I reached the bottom of Netflix.” And though her life is quieter, her work has become louder. “Before, I thought I ran on a chaos engine, but the more peaceful I am, the more I can give to the work. I can address things I wasn’t capable of doing before.”



 ‘The more peaceful I am, the more I can give to the work. I can now address things I wasn’t capable of doing before’:Florence wears shirt by Silk and Rope Vintage, trousers by Vilshenko and jewellery by Annina Vogel. Photograph: Phil Fisk for the Observer

Florence likes to trick herself. She does it with a blue pen, writing what she calls little “self dares of truth”, reassuring herself that she won’t show them to anyone. “Shh, it’s OK, it’s just us…” And it was as one of these that Hunger, the first single from her new album, High As Hope, began. The first line is: ‘At 17, I started to starve myself.’ “It’s the first time I’ve been able to put it on paper,” she whispers. ‘I thought that love was in the drugs,’ the song continues, ‘but the more I took, the more it took away. And I could never get enough. I thought that love was on the stage. You give yourself to strangers, you don’t have to be afraid.’ “But now I’ve realised that that nugget of insecurity and loneliness is a human experience. The big issues are there however you address them.” She giggles suddenly. “The weirdest thing is, that as personal as it feels, as soon as you say it, other

 ‘I learned ways to manage my terror – drink, drugs, controlling food. It was like a renaissance of childhood’: Florence wears dress by Gucci and jewellery by Annina Vogel. Photograph: Phil Fisk for the Observer

Did something happen when she was 17, to trigger that descent? She pauses for a very long time. Her coffee goes cold. Outside, seasons change. Apologetically, she looks away. “I know how to deal with it in a song, but a lot of stuff I’m… still figuring out? I can say things in a song I don’t understand yet, like: ‘I thought love was a kind of emptiness’ – that feels important. You think love is unreachable, empty, hungry, then there’s a kind of sadness when something more stable comes towards you. You don’t recognise it as love because it’s not desperate enough. And I’ve never tied the two together until now.”

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Is she through that now? Is she eating? She takes a deep breath. “I’m further away from it than I ever have been. It was something I experienced and I’m 31 now and at a time where I can perhaps… see what I was looking for?” Her speech is lilting, soft south London, and punctuated liberally with ellipses.

On Florence’s 30th birthday her sister had a baby, and the benefit of her new quiet life is that she’s been able to be there for her niece’s first year. “We help each other through. I’ve done career, she’s done family, and we’ve both seen behind the perfection. I’d love to be married, but I can see the good and bad in each life. I’ve wondered sometimes: ‘Did I dream too big, do I have to let it go?’” Going on tour, she’s realised, she goes into a state of stasis, popping out years later to find that not only have all her friends had kids and got married, but grown up in even grander, less definable ways, learning things like how to break up well – something she is yet to master – and how to feel “deserving of love”.

Though her father, Nick, an ex-ad executive, left London to open campsites, she lives close to both her sister and her mother, Evelyn, a professor of renaissance studies; when Florence talks about her, she nods slowly as if contemplating a difficult Sudoku.



 New leaaves: a page from Useless Magic.

“My mum was so worried about me doing music – she thought it was dangerous, could hurt me, could be fleeting. She’s accepted it’s not a phase now. But she’s been through a lot, so always prepares for the worst.” Her mother mourns the fact Florence didn’t go to university. Once, she told her she could remember every outfit she’d ever worn, and her mother said: “What a waste of a brain.”

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But, as Florence navigates this quiet life, their similarities are becoming more clear to her. Watching Evelyn lecture about a pair of renaissance gloves she saw, suddenly, where her performance gene came from. “And people tell me I disappear – that’s like her, too, and it can be isolating in a relationship, and maybe was isolating when we were kids. Like me, I think she has big feelings, but she’s put them somewhere else, away. I’m still figuring out what that well of longing in me is, and looking at the origins.” Then there is another pause, so deep you could swim in it. “My mother’s mother committed suicide. And the way she was loved by her mother has related to the way she loves us, which then is the way we love others. My grandmother fell, so sometimes I feel like we’re all still in this loop, falling with her. The trickle-down of tragedies.”

It’s only recently that she started talking about this with her mother, and those dog days after she was 17, and the way her relationships have followed the patterns drawn in childhood when she was an “octopus of feelings”, always hungry for attention from unavailable people.

Her first book of poetry, Useless Magic, an elegant collaged scrapbook, is dedicated to her parents. The first words, written in Biro, are: “I make songs to tie people to me.” It’s in the same pen that she writes daily “sermons”, as she calls them, and she uses them to acknowledge and find the humour in the strangeness of her pop star life. For instance, she wants a record of having been drunk in a corridor with Liza Minnelli, and a record too that she knew this should never be mistaken for a normal afternoon.

These undrinking days she still enjoys parties, but uses them to dance rather than get high – if someone starts making small talk with her and there’s music playing she will literally spin away towards the speakers.

After we meet, having had a conversation that veered from recurring dreams she had as a child to a new Tinder bio (“Deeply domestic but also high stress, with no middle ground – hugely exposed but deeply hermity. Too many candles burning in my house to be safe”) she emails over a selection of these daily sermons. They’re scrappy and funny, and one ends: “I would also like a thousand texts that say ‘I love you,’ my phone buzzing endlessly, until I am exhausted, and empty. Oh shit.”

For somebody whose career balances on drama and the guttural expression of heartbreak, she seems remarkably peaceful, almost happy. But sometimes, while she is in her tour bus on the way home to London, the maggot of an idea will burrow into her mind and she will think: “Wouldn’t it be a relief to go partying now? What if… what if you just fucked it all up? What if you drove all this into the ground?” She shakes her head suddenly like there’s water in her ear. “It’s still there. This, ‘What if I could take a day off, a break from this magical energy?’ But,” she grins, “it passes.”

High As Hope is out now. Useless Magic is out on 5 July, £20, Penguin Books. Buy it for £17 at guardianbookshop.com 

Styling by Aldene Johnson; hair by Anna Cofone; make-up by Sarah Reygate; stylist’s assistants Lauren Anne Groves and Elle Fells; shot at William Morris’s Red House, Bexleyheath (National Trust)

[vertyblog]

The Best: The Saga

I have a good friend, not on tumblr, who frequents terrible roblox roleplay servers, looking for fun.

A result of this fun is one of the best stories I’ve ever read. The Best story.

He preferred to remain anonymous, but I think this needs to be shared with the world. With that in mind, all of this text below this readmore is his own words, not mine, and a completely factual account of events. (The art is by me tho.)

Oh speaking of that-  the art was made at the time of original telling, which means there was some artistic liberty and also my art separates it into three parts while the actual text goes with two parts. I left both as is for the sake of historical accuracy.

Now then, before I get into the glorious clusterfuck that is my story, I need to make a few things clear. Yes, this was an RP, but it took place within an actual game space. All characters were in a "Physical" world and not just some text on a page. However, most complex actions were done 100% of the time through text. With that out of the way, we can begin.

This story is split into two pieces, each one taking place on a different real-world day. They all happened back-to-back, and the entirety of the story took place over the course of a weekend. As a sort of hobby, I like to go trawling for terrible RPs and join them to laugh at what I find. It's nothing short of incredible observing (and sometimes being a part of) the often hilariously bad antics Mary Sues get up to. This being said, while this STARTED as one of those times, it quickly escalated into the greatest thing I've ever lived through. So, enough of the backstory, let's get into it. For this particular outing, I decided to pick a Super Paper Mario RP. Yes, they exist and yes, they are exactly as terrible as you think they are. But that's not why we're here.

PART 1, In which a Hero is born-

It all started from the moment I logged in; we were off to a flying start. Basically every bad RP trope and sin was being evoked at the same time completely unironically by people who didn't know any better. I don't come to these to clean them up or set everyone on the right path, I come here to point and laugh at the people for my own amusement. Still, you can't exactly lurk an RP that takes place in an actual game; You have to be SOMEONE, and if you looked important in any way you would somehow be swept up into whatever crap they were doing. So with all of this in mind, I chose to look as unimportant as possible. I was a Green Toad. Not a frog, mind you, but those vaguely adorable Mushroom folk from Mario (Why am I saying this? I have seen some real idiots and the last thing I need is someone thinking I was a frog while doing this). Toads are nearly invisible, as far as the dozens of Marios and Luigis and what-have-yous were concerned. So, with my character set and with one eye on the global chat to catch any wonderful bits of Fail RP, I set off on the greatest ride of my life.

I chose to settle down in a town on one of the map borders. Honestly it was a quaint little place. Snow-covered, with a train occasionally showing up to ferry off whatever Joe Q. Jerkholes wanted to go to where things actually happened. Now, while there's definitely some cringe-worthy stupidness in every last RP I've gone to, I can reliably say without a doubt in my head that I have never seen something as laughably terrible as what this one group of people was doing. There was one group SOMEWHERE that were having a Cyberpunk RP. In this Paper Mario game. How exactly you do that is beyond me; it's not like the map is full of cities and technology and flying cars, and yet they were having the time of their lives blasting away at each other with their guns and smoking their cigarettes in back alleys that didn't even exist on the map. It's been over a month since this happened, and I can't even remember what was going through my head at that point, so I'll put it bluntly. I'll stand for a lot, I'll idly sit by and just let a lot of crap happen. This was just one step too far, and through the power of bad (great) decisions, I decided that I was going to put a stop to it. Of course if it was as simple as that, we wouldn't have this story.

Before I set out of the little snow-covered town, some preparations had to be made. Even if I was the most un-threatening Toad in the world, someone out in that grand old world would find SOME reason to start something with me. To that end, I took up a simple spear. There wasn't a single thing special about it; no legendary enchantments, no amazing artifact status, no +1. Just a completely mundane spear. And that was it. So with newfound weapon in hand, I boarded the train out of town. Cutting out the boring travel time, I arrived in a desert area. As frequently as these people were talking about their trenchcoat-wearing Bob-ombs and augmented Yoshis (I wish I was joking), I still had not a damn clue where on the map they actually were. As I would soon find out, where they were didn't matter. While the group actually having this RP was only something like six people, it happened to be the "Coolest" thing on the whole server, so everyone and their mother was copying it. Enter our first contestant, who now stood in front of me. His sprite was your average Shy Guy. The way he was DESCRIBED to me, he was nothing short of Adam Jensen, sunglasses and all. And just as I had predicted, he saw some random Toad wandering around and figured I must have been easy pickings. So he more or less started trying to kick my ass. If you're expecting some amazing and epic battle to get written here, I'm sorry to disappoint you. Instead, this is what actually happened. He tried his best to get his actions across, and I responded by using the largest words I could get from my vocabulary and putting them into my responses. After a few minutes of this, I'm convinced his brain shut down and he simply logged out. So, that was one victory for me. And I continued on my way.

To say that the effects of this RP were server-wide is an understatement. Everyone I came across had some bit of metal stuck to them somewhere, and I'm convinced they saw the Mushroom Kingdom as some glowing neon cityscape. Luckily for me, most of them seemed content to let me continue on my way. I wasn't out to burn down the whole server, my problem was specifically with the source of the madness. Rapidly exhausting the places these guys could be, I hopped on a cruise ship to maybe point me in the right direction (And to get away from the throngs of cyborg rejects wandering the streets). Unfortunately for everyone, not even at sea was I safe from out-of-place Cyberpunk whackos. Our next offender happened to be a Yoshi. This particularly wonderful individual had a mohawk and could breathe fire, among other fun abilities (Can you guess what color Yoshi he was? Hint: it was black). In hindsight, I'm pretty sure he was trying to make himself Bowser without actually playing as Bowser. At any rate, he was yet another wonderful problem who saw fit to try and murder me. To his credit, this guy wasn't actually thrown off by large words, and did put up a reasonable fight. After a few minutes of us dancing around the ship trading blows (And the entire thing being an inferno because of liberal application of fire), the two of us go overboard. It was either to escape the fire or he grabbed me and jumped, but that doesn't matter. What DOES matter is that when you replace a large portion of your body with metal parts, you don't float very well. To my utter shock and amazement, the Yoshi forgot to augment his lungs. I think he wanted me to pull him ashore and start some wonderful friendship between us, but I was having none of it. I left him to sink to rock bottom, which prompted some wonderful comments from him riddled with questionable grammar, mostly to the effect of "Aren't you the hero?". He didn't get a response from me. I was just some Green Toad with a spear.

So, I clamber ashore from this underwater zone and I'm on an island. Decently sized, and as I would soon find out, without a single other person on it. While I DID want to get away from it all, this was a tad extreme. I get to exploring and find out a few wonderful things: The only boat that takes you off of this island was broken because of shoddy scripting and would never arrive, there is nothing to do on this island outside of jump on things and reenact your favorite castaway movie, and the Circuit City wholesale saw no signs of stopping any time this century. What would have normally been entertaining roleplay failures in the global chat became anything but. I'm not some insane Mario fanboy, but having gotten this far into attempting to stop this from happening and having it continue unopposed just felt like a slap in my face; It was an insult to me, and this had gone from a visit born from morbid curiosity to an anger-fueled mission. With my only way off of this island never arriving, I decided on simply killing myself to respawn on the mainland. I was simply going to walk into the ocean, fall through the map, and respawn back where there were people. It was when I took five steps out into the water that something incredible dawned upon me. The entire ocean was a solid object, just like the land. It was simply a different kind of land painted blue and with a fancy water texture on it. Only the water immediately around the cruise ship was special in any way, with the rest of the ocean just being a solid slab. I was walking on water. I walked all the way back to the mainland. The mapmaker does deserve SOME credit, however. When I say this was an ocean, I mean it. The walk was long, but eventually, I came ashore once again.

Where exactly I ended up concluding my miracle walk across the ocean was another matter entirely, however. I stepped out into a forest that I hadn't been to before. Once again, giving the mapmaker some credit, I did get lost in these woods. After a couple of minutes of aimless wandering, the forest took on a different tone. It's become obviously more spooky (I use that term loosely. It was about as spooky as a bedsheet ghost) and it becomes very clear why: the woods appear to lead directly to the titular mansion from Luigi's Mansion. Why exactly it was in a Paper Mario RP I couldn't tell you, but there it loomed, amidst the trees and less-than-adequate lighting. It was here than I ran into a pretty large issue; not so much the mansion proper, but what was right next to it: E. Gadd's lab. This is one of the very few locations on the entire map that had actual, honest-to-God technology in it, so to say that it was swarmed was an understatement. Now, I want to make something very, very clear here. I won my first two scrapes with these clowns because of sheer luck or glaring incompetence on their part. No matter how well I wrote or how amazingly I could wield a spear, it would offer no defense from an entire room full of these people all coming at me at once. So the lab was a no-go, but I derived a small amount of joy from the fact that there wasn't a single one of them in the mansion proper. I like to think they were actually afraid of the place, although that probably wasn't the answer. So my next course of action was to go inside.

As mentioned before, the inside hadn't a single soul within. I have never played Luigi's Mansion so I cannot attest to the accuracy of the interior. For what little the words of a stranger on the internet are worth, it certainly looked the part. Probably much smaller than the real thing, but once again that isn't the point. After walking through a few identical hallways and being moderately shocked at the complete lack of anything even remotely resembling a ghost, I finally ran into someone else, and was more than surprised with what I found. I fully expected another wonderful individual to come charging at me with his cyber-arms and demand my lunch money or something, but instead I was greeted with a "Hello" and the realization that this one guy wasn't a cyborg. For those that care, he was playing as Mr. L, or at least had him selected as his player model. He wasn't exactly in-character, but I think he just wanted to talk to someone that ALSO wasn't trying too hard. We get to talking, and he genuinely threw me a curveball when he asked, "What's your name?". To be honest, I hadn't given our hero one yet. In thinking what name would be appropriate for a random Toad, something rang out in my head, something that Toads always seem to say. "I'm The Best.", I told him. Seemingly content with that answer, we exited the mansion together. It is at this point that, once again, I have to be the bearer of bad news. I'd love to say that we teamed up like some kind of Buddy Cop movie, found those jerks, and saved the day like the big-dick heroes you think are at the end of this chapter, but alas there is no such thing. So here's what actually happened. A hacker turned up, and crashed the game. As simple an anticlimax as that. With that being said, in all honesty I don't think I could've went out and gotten a better ending. There's something wonderfully poetic about Cyberpunk RPs ending because an actual hacker turned up.

If our story ended there, I would have been content. But once again, through the power of excellent decision-making, I returned the following day.

My second excursion started more or less the same way as the first: Roleplaying failures abound, yours truly as a Green Toad, and a whole wide world to blunder through. Except at the onset of this adventure, there were no Trenchcoats or Augments. It wasn't exactly 100% normal goings on in the Mushroom Kingdom, but really it never is. As I once again trekked up to that snow-covered village, I scanned the Global chat for anything worthy of my attention; be it offensively bad or just stupid enough that it had to be seen in person. Three things caught my eye. The first was a bodysnatched/posessed/evil/combination Princess Peach who was now out to kill Mario. Normally this would be cause for alarm, but there were roughly a dozen people playing as Mario. As far as I was concerned that Peach was doing her God-Given duty and thinning the herd, so I would let her carry on this most righteous mission. The second event was that, apparently, the Mushroom Kingdom was in the midst of some kind of alien invasion. This was ALMOST what this  part of our story was about, until I saw the third and final thing to grace my screen. Somewhere out in that world, out in that grand old expanse of continent, there was another Toad calling himself The Best. It was a common thing for any enterprising Toad out on the street to say; that wasn't what set me off. He was using it as a title, claiming that he was actually The Best. He swung those two words around like some kind of blunt instrument and expected everyone to bow down to him. So I made it my NEW mission to take the title from him. I had claimed in passing to a random stranger a day prior that I was The Best, and now the time had come to prove it. With spear once again in hand, I set out from my frozen home to take a random person on the internet down a few pegs.

I elected to not take the train this time, instead deciding to hoof it back to civilization. I had an entire server to comb for one man in particular; a train or any kind of fast-travel would raise my chances of missing my mark. Fortunately (Or unfortunately, depends on which camp you're in) it also increases my exposure to the ever-present bullshit that infests these places, which is exactly what I ran into. Fleeing at high-speed from a full-blown Dragon, a Princess Peach made a beeline straight for me. Yelling "Help me!" in about every way imaginable, she just sort of kept on running past me and left the first person she ran into with the monumental task of getting rid of a Dragon. Deciding a Toad was an easier target than a Princess, the dragon seemed pretty happy with the arrangement as well. I've had my fair share of fighting dragons, so I had a pretty good battle plan. Of course, EVERYONE always has a plan, until the goddamn lizard starts breathing fire. The start of the fight was pretty ineffectual on both of our parts, the Dragon trying vainly to hit the tiny target that is a Toad and me trying to piece together how I would take down something this stupidly big. Calling upon my experiences dealing with things far too large for a person so small to be expected to kill, I decided to take the Shadow of the Colossus road, and start scaling the beast. I'm assuming at this point the thing took flight and I somehow brought it down to earth again after a prolonged struggle, because the next thing in my memory is me still fighting this damn dragon in the middle of the desert.

I don't know just how long we had been locked in this struggle, but I know that at that point I just wanted to be done with it. I did my best to force the thing into a good position for me to gain the upper hand, but it's pretty damn hard to make a dragon do much of anything, especially when it wants to consume your weird Toad head thing (Is it a hat? Is it their head? Someone please inform me, I need this question answered.) But sure enough, through judicial use of baiting both literary and physical, I managed to get the Dragon into a corner. Three separate times I tried to end the fight with a decisive strike, but each one he would bullshit out of it. It's to be expected, the last thing anyone wants is for their character to get offed, even worse if its in an excessively embarrasing matter. "Killed by spear-wielding Toad" is about as embarrasing a death as you can have in something like this, being only a few steps above "killed by Goomba walking to the left". But anyway, that's not the point. After a bit more flailing, I took one final shot at the damn thing in such a way that there was well and truly no way out of it. Probably fed up with getting whooped all up and down the map and airspace by something only a few steps above "Goomba" in threat level, the dragon promptly ragequit. And that is the story of how I killed a dragon. Unfortunately (Or fortunately, depending on how you feel today) I didn't have time to go track down the Princess and inform her that the dragon was dealt with. I probably would've gotten a cake, maybe a statue, maybe ignorance. Who can say? At any rate, with that distraction dealt with I got back to my primary mission.

You would think that in a game like this, Toads would be in short supply. I certainly thought so, but apparently they were more popular than I first assumed. For a good long while, the only thing I did was wander the earth, find a Toad, and ask them if they were The Best. It was always followed with a "No" and I continued on my way. There were probably far better ways I could've gone about it; I could've just called the guy out in general chat and hopefully had him come to me. Hindsight is 50/50 and in spite of how often I'll think of myself as a smart individual, I am definitely not the brightest bulb in the box. Anyway, back to our story. This pattern of asking random Toads if they were The Best and moving on went on for a few more iterations, until I saw one of them get on a train. Thinking it was my man, I made a beeline for it, only for the train to pull out of the station and speed off with me having not even seen the guy's name in time. STILL unable to grasp the concept of "Global Chat", I did the only thing my mind thought of and started running after the train like an idiot. I don't have to put it in writing but I'm going to anyway: Trains are faster than Toads. I did not come even close to catching up to that train before it sped off over the horizon and carried the mystery man with it. So I did the (reasonably) smart thing and just caught the next one, hoping that maybe he'd be standing around the next train station, making my life easy.

It seems endemic of the Mario universe that nothing is ever simple. You want a dollar? Go bash your head against a brick. Out for a Sunday Stroll? Hope you're headed to the right, 'cause that's the only way you're going. So of course shit went down on the train. A player dressed as Mr. L walked up and down the cabin kind of aimlessly. Given my one and only instance of prior experience with anyone dressed up as Mr. L, I was almost delighted. For one brief and shining second, I thought I would finally have an ally against the chaos. The first words out of his mouth were that, verbatim, he pulled out a knife and tried to stab me. He was one Katana short of fufilling every stereotype in three seconds. Honestly I don't know what I expected. I never got a chance to respond to my assailant, as another player dressed up as Luigi spotted his evil twin, thought he was hard enough, and decided to have a go. Say what you want, but I wasn't about to deny Luigi a shot at his doppelganger. The two of them launched into combat, and I made myself scarce. I don't know who won the scrap. Some say they're still fighting to this day. All that matters is that the train pulled into the station, and I kept on my search.

The cycle continued. Find a Toad, ask if they're The Best, get the answer of "No", keep on walking. Until finally, I found my man. He didn't look like your average Toad, but that isn't saying much. Clad in some kind of cloak and armed with a spear all his own, he had chosen Yellow for his color. I approached, and I asked the question for the last time. I got a lot more than a "Yes", but to save all of you the hospital bill and subsequent psychiatrist visit, I'm just going to condense it down to a "Yes". After a while of his rambling about just how great he was, I cut him off with an offer someone of his pride couldn't refuse. It was something to the effect of "I don't think you're all that great, and I'll fight you to prove it.". Several sentences of heated words and a LOT of escalation later, it had gone from a simple test of honor to a full-blown fight to the death. My plan was to keep it on the down-low; any sort of high-profile and high-impact fight would be sure to draw attention from everyone and their mother, and the last thing I needed to deal with was some full-blown warzone. Unfortunately for me, someone playing as Bowser overheard us and walked up.

I know what I expected. I expected Bowser to go on about how HE was actually the Best and try and kill both of us. Instead, he said that he wanted to host this death battle at his "Rad castle". Before I could object to this in favor of the quiet 1 v 1 I wanted, the other guy agreed to it. What I DID finally say was that I would meet him there at sundown. Both for dramatic effect (which I knew he'd eat up), and to give me at least fifteen minutes to come up with a plan for when this inevitably went tits-up. So, with the date and time for our climactic showdown set, I hit up the local shops. I bought everything I could that I thought would give me some kind of edge, which turned out to not be much. Wandering the continent on a manhunt didn't exactly pay well, and I could only afford a few Mushrooms and a single Fire Flower. Knowing full well I was pretty unprepared for some kind of mass-swarming if Bowser sent out the army of minions he'd probably have waiting, I went anyway. Even if I was marching straight into what I thought was a massive trap, I had little choice anymore. I knew what I expected. When the sun set, and I made my way through that castle gate, I realized that I had completely under-estimated whoever was playing Bowser. What greeted me when I walked through that gate was nothing short of incredible.

You see, Bowser had spread the word about this fight across the land in record time. His castle was packed with people, all watching from the ramparts and the balconies and anywhere else they could stand or sit. And amidst them all, looking down from his throne room, was the King Koopa himself. As I entered the courtyard, he gave me a goddamn entrance worthy of some kind of wrestler on WWE. It was absolutely astounding. He went on to do the same for my opponent. I hadn't planned for an audience, much less one the size of damn well near the entire server. With that many people watching, I threw aside my plans for some quick and decisive conflict. These people probably paid really good fake money for those seats and goddamn if I wasn't about to give them their money's worth. And just like that, we crossed spears and the fight began. Everyone I had encountered up to this point was either incompetent or simply unintelligent. He was a completely different beast. Prideful, overconfident, and showboating like you wouldn't believe, but he could actually back it up. For the first time in my entire misadventure, I was toe-to-toe with someone who could stand up to me. He might have actually been The Best, if only I wasn't here. It was a knock-down, drag-out brawl, eventually exiting the courtyard and had us both parrying and dodging through all of those balconies and ramparts I had mentioned earlier. Spear met spear, strikes glanced, and we continued to drift through the castle locked into a lethal struggle only one of us would walk away from. Eventually the fight gravitated to the highest spire of the castle, steered there by both of us. We both knew the fight was going to end up there, and we both wanted to be the last man standing. Unfortunately for him, I borrowed a page from Joseph Joestar's playbook and started going for some hard reads and some pretty sick bait.

At the very pinnacle of the spire, I went for an all-or-nothing maneuver: I let him disarm me. My spear sailed off the tower and far, far out of my reach. Rather than go for the killshot, he gloated. He launched into yet another speech about how great he was and how I was a fool for challenging him and all that wonderful jazz said better by about three dozen other folk. It was at this point that I pulled out the ace I'd been hiding up my metaphorical sleeve the entire fight, and used the Fire Flower to launch a point-blank fireball right into his face. It caught him mid-sentence, and it gave me the upper hand, if only for a brief moment. My one regret out of this entire adventure is that I didn't have a cool thing to say at that exact moment. So, wordlessly, I dropkicked him straight off the tower. And down he plummeted, well within view of everyone who attended, right into the lava below. And with my brutal mission achieved it was official: I was The Best, and everyone in the server now knew. So much for being an unassuming Toad. As I stepped down from the tower back into the courtyard, Bowser stood before me and the exit. To this day, I am absolutely convinced that he was going to start something the moment the fight was over. But after the display I put on up there, he merely handed me my spear (No idea how he got it), told me that the fight was the most awesome thing he'd ever seen, and got the hell out of my way. With my goal attained and no reason to stick around with all the attention I was about to get, I walked out of the fortress and logged off.

But what if I told you it got better? The following day, curiosity won out one last time and I logged back in.

PART 2, in which the Hero becomes a Legend-

Everything up to this point was great and amazing, but this is the point at which this story transcends reason. It's also the part I remember the best, so strap yourselves in, this is going to be a long one.

I log in, I pick my Green Toad, I exit spawn. As an extra measure, to keep anyone who remembers me from last time from swarming me immediately, I hide my Username. Immediately, something strikes me in a metaphorical sense; I spy another Green Toad. Not exactly out of the ordinary, except they were talking to yet another Green Toad. Chalking it up to coincidence, I entered town. The sheer number of people playing as Green Toads was staggering. It had gone from nearly a dozen Marios, Luigis, and any other important guy that looked cool, to nothing but the most unimportant character in a Mario game in a very specific color that wasn't red. In one chain of bad decisions and murder in front of an audience, I had gone from some nameless jackass to the new meta. Everyone wanted to be The Best, it was goddamn surreal. On the upside, when everyone's The Best, no one is. So by virtue of being so popular, I was once again invisible. Imagine if every problem solved itself like this. On the downside, it was going to be a bit hellish proving my own identity. Still, it was nice to blend into the crowd again. I kept a watchful eye on the chat. With this many people wanting a title that can only belong to one man, I figured the entire server was going to devolve into complete anarchy sooner or later. There was a certain appeal to a server-wide free-for-all with everyone vying to be the same guy Highlander-style, but that's neither here nor there.

It was calm. It was surprisingly calm; no one went for each other's throats, life proceeded as normal. The Princess and a few Toads that guarded her walked amongst the crowd of people in the town square. Spotting her and her guard was pretty easy; they were the only thing that wasn't green. She was handing out invitations to the townsfolk for some kind of banquet or celebration or party or SOME kind of mass-gathering at the castle that night. Even the Global chat was calm; the entire server was, if only for a minute, peaceful. Honestly, the place had started to grow on me; I can say that I legitimately liked the dumb antics that I usually got up to every time I logged in. So I stuck around, even though nothing was going on; Hell, I thought about buying a house near the castle just to be closer to where the action happened. Funnily enough, this was the right choice. While I was house-shopping, I saw speech bubbles floating up from this sort of back area inbetween a few of the houses. It wasn't out-of-place or anything because the town was jam-packed; it was what the bubble said that caught my attention. "They can't know we're here.", it said. So, naturally the curious type, I ducked into a nearby vacant house and started spying on whomever was speaking.

It was more Toads, but something was off. They were purple and not green, the both of them. One just an ordinary Toad and the other using some kind of palette swap of Toadette, I think. Their conversation continued, and to say that I had struck gold was an understatement. So, to run you through who these two were and why they were about to set the greatest cavalcade of insanity in motion: Remember when I mentioned that there was some kind of alien invasion going on in Part 2 of my story? Well, these two were it. Shapeshifters, and not friendly ones. Obviously they wanted to take over the Kingdom, but their plan was to crash the gathering the Princess had planned for later tonight,  slaughter her and any other important figures that turned up, turn all of the Toads into more aliens through MacGuffin Magic, and then take their army and steamroll the rest of the continent. Now, I was in a bit of a tight situation. I didn't have my spear yet, so charging into the alley and handling them right then and there was out of the question. Warning the town or the Princess' guard was something I was strongly against, as that reduced me to nothing more than a whistleblower and not the absolutely legendary figure that I had somehow become in the eyes of these people. So really, I had one option: Get my spear, get supplies, and personally foil their plan in front of everyone. The only problem was, I did not have a lot of time or money to do it with.

I had very, very little in the way of coins to my name, and I wasn't just about to grab any spear from any old shop; It had to be the one I've always carried. The journey from the main city up into the snow-covered lands isn't exactly a long one, but it wasn't short, either. Worse still, what shops they did have up there were pretty lackluster in supplies and rather high in price. Still, I didn't have time to do much else. I made the trek, keeping a watchful eye on the sun and the global chat, hoping the party wouldn't start until I got back. I made it up there as fast as I could, and my spear was there waiting. I'd used it for a lot up until now, but its greatest challenges were still ahead of it. With my weapon of choice sorted, I walked into the local storefront. All I could afford was two mushrooms and a bottle of Hot Sauce that happened to be on sale. Honestly, I was ready to take anything I could get on the shoestring budget I had brought with me. As I departed back for town, things took a turn for the worse: The sun had set, the party had begun, and I was nowhere near the city.

I was running as fast as a Toad could go. I kept glancing from the road to the global chat; their plan could kick off at any moment and if I wasn't the guy to stop them then I don't think anyone else would. Yeah, everyone wanted to be me, but nobody wanted to have the danger of potentially having their character die doing heroics; they only wanted to be heroes and live to gloat about it. Sooner rather than later I get back into the town. There's no yells about dead princesses or mass anarchy in the town, so I only assume that I still had time left. Finally, I reached the castle proper only to be faced with something I forgot to prepare for: The Princess had posted up guards out front whom were actually checking for invitations. I didn't have one and I didn't have time to go looking for one, either. I had to get through that door as fast as possible; I had no idea where my enemies were and for all I know they were already inside. It's then that I looked at the guards at the door and remembered a very crucial fact: everyone was playing as a Green Toad today. If I could just get through the door, they wouldn't be able to pick me out from the crowd. So with that in mind, I picked my moment and simply sprinted through the doors. Once inside, I walked into the nearest group of similar-looking mushroom people and held my breath. The door guards walked in, picked some random fellow that just happened to be in the wrong place at the right time, and kicked him out instead of me. If you're out there, and you're reading this, Thank you random citizen. Yours was a pivotal role in this tale, and I will not forget your unintentional sacrifice.

I was inside, and the gathering was in full swing. Just what this was all for I never found out; I was moving too fast to take in the details. First it was scanning the crowd and trying to pick out anyone that was purple. Luckily, it seemed as though they weren't here just yet. Then, I tried to find the Princess. Outside of their plan and the fact that they came from outer space, I had no idea what those two could do, so my best bet was to get the Princess out of the castle and hope that the confusion they'd cause would let me and her get the hell out of dodge before the E.T.s realized she was gone. Let me tell you, it's no wonder Bowser is able to kidnap her so easily, because she REALLY makes no attempts to hide herself or even have guards around her. She was talking to Daisy and a few OC Princesses from made-up kingdoms about, well, me and my stupid antics yesterday. Almost on cue, I walk up to where she was standing and strike up a conversation. Well, perhaps "conversation" isn't the right word; it was pretty one-sided. I got her attention, and informed her that some very not-nice people were due to turn up any minute now and that she should come with me if she wanted to get out of this in one piece. This prompted a question I was hoping beyond belief would eventually get asked. "What? Who are you?" I needed only to utter three words and draw attention to my username for just a moment. "I'm The Best."

Three words worth twenty times their weight in gold. Three words that silenced a whole table full of royalty and fixated all eyes on me. Three words, met only with a singular response of ":O". With little ceremony, and even less to say, the Princess stood up and was at my side in an instant. I had lucked out; the person I was trying to save was also a huge fangirl. The rest of the table had their own things to say, but at that point my mind was already trying to think five steps ahead. Every second I was still at this party was another second off of the invisible timer heralding the arrival of the aliens. I was being posed with a really, really difficult question: How do you sneak a Princess out of her own party while attracting as little attention as possible? Frankly I didn't have an answer, so my initial plan was to simply say "Screw it" and walk out the front door, all witnesses be damned. Fortunately for the dramatic tension of the story and unfortunately for my nerves, at that exact moment, my time ran out, and our two antagonists strolled into the castle, shooting down my plans for an easy front door escape. Our escape was temporarily put on hold, and all mental resources were instead pushed towards NOT letting the regicidal extraterrestrials spot me or Princess Peach.

As fast as my fingers could manage, I typed out my instructions. Specifics aren't important, the gist of it was that I wanted her to stay as close to me as possible, and to follow my lead. With that out of the way, I ducked behind a pillar and triple-checked that I was talking into local chat only. It doesn't take a genius to conclude that attempting to do anything remotely discrete with Princess Peach is nigh-on impossible. The stealthy approach lasted all of fifteen seconds before the gig was up, the aliens spotted the Princess, and they started making a beeline for her. Now, at this moment, I did not have a lot going in my favor. My plan was falling apart, the bad guys were closing in at a very fast pace, and it was a very real possibility that if I wasn't the luckiest man alive our story would have ended much sooner and with a much bleaker twist than the version we got. Luckily for me, my original plan was still VERY fresh in my mind, and they weren't inbetween me and the door anymore. So with a very simple exclamation of, "RUN!", we made a mad dash for the door and the chase was on. It was at this precise moment in time that all hell broke loose.

When someone yells "RUN!" inside of a packed venue, people tend to panic. When shapeshifting space aliens pull out guns and begin firing into a crowd of people, said people tend to freak out. When everyone's pretending to be a hero and the shit hits the fan, you find out who the real heroes are. Toads were racing everywhere, lasers were being sprayed like Xcom just turned up, the Princesses still at the table were having a full-scale freakout, and what guards there were inside were fighting a losing battle at attempting to make sense of the utter chaos. The Castle emptied at an alarming pace, both because people were throwing themselves out of any available exit they could find and because there were two determined shooters killing those that couldn't. Ducking and dodging, my luck held out long enough to get outside with the Princess in tow. The streets weren't much better than the inside, with most of the sensible folk running as far as they could, and a few plucky people that didn't have a grasp on what they were up against charging into the Palace to play the hero. Still, if only for a few seconds, we weren't being shot at. Those few seconds let me think on my options to devise a new plan better than "Run like hell". I came up with "Run like hell, but towards the harbor, then get on the first boat going anywhere." And so, I informed Peach as we made a madman's dash towards the coastline. Unfortunately, the Princess hadn't caught on to the whole "Local chat" thing, and ended up saying aloud how great a plan it was. The aliens became an issue again really quickly after that blunder.

I called on every action movie chase scene cliche that my mind could spit out to slow them down. There wasn't a tremendous amount of city we had to cover, but it felt like I was running a cross-country marathon (In spirit. I was sitting in a desk chair holding "w" for a minute or two.). In spite of my best efforts, their blasts were getting more accurate by the second and the lead I had on them was evaporating. Still, sometimes you can call in a favor from Lady Luck, and sure enough when I reached the port, there was a ferry departing. I'm not one to look a gift horse in the mouth, and so a shout of "Get on the boat!" was all it took to secure our getaway. In my mind, it was the classic action dive onto a boat just as it departs the harbor, laser bolts barely missing the hero as he escapes below deck. In reality, all I did was walk into the designated "Get on the boat" area. Details, details; what matters is that I had managed to pull this escape off, and at least for the moment we were well and truly safe. A minute later, and we step off of the ferry with a few other frightened townsfolk in a place called Rogueport. I had no time to relax, however, as the ferry was very punctual, and I had only three minutes at best before the next one turned up, probably carrying two whole units of bad news. After a very, very quick examination of the town, I noticed it had a train station. An escape by rail certainly beat walking, and so we set about the time-consuming task of waiting for the next train. With what she percieved as a moment of peace, the Princess got around to asking what we were running from. There is no good way to explain to someone that Aliens are trying to kill them; take it from me, I tried. She didn't believe me; maybe she had doubts that I was who I said I was. Honestly, wherever her indecisiveness came from has no real bearing on the story, because the train didn't arrive in time, and the aliens turned up in all of their glory.

We were cornered, but I could tell from the way they were acting that they hadn't caught on to who I was just yet. There were some generic villain-esque statements, "Turn over the princess and we'll spare you" and all that nonsense. Their answer came in the form of a drawn spear and a combat stance. I thought over how this was going to play out. There were two of them, both with guns. There was one of me, trusty spear in hand and a handful of items to keep me in the fight. I made damn sure they didn't get the first move, and launched my attack. What played out was a game of cat-and-mouse, with them trying to stay just out of range and pelt what they thought was any ordinary wannabe with lasers until he went down. They quickly realised that I was no poser, and began to play dirty. Up until now, I had been dodging everything they could throw at me. They seemed to know this, too, and decided to fire on someone that couldn't dodge half as well: Princess Peach. My plans shifted from an all-out offensive to playing completely defensively, having to block or leap in front of every shot they now fired at the Princess. Things rapidly fell apart even further as what little healing items I had to keep myself in the fight disappeared at an unacceptable rate. It was absolutely clear that they were about to win, and Lady Luck was unreceptive to any further bribes as the train was still nowhere in sight. I looked into my inventory for some kind of 11th-hour miracle; who knows, maybe I had another Fire Flower I had forgotten about until now. The only thing left was the bottle of Hotsauce. To put it bluntly, I had no idea what it would do. Maybe it WAS another Fire Flower, just by a different name. Maybe it was one final healing item to keep me fighting for just a few seconds more. With everything to lose, I downed the bottle.

I promptly burst into flames.

Absolutely zero people were expecting that, myself included; the Princess practically fell over when it happened. Life had given me lemons and the means to go out and burn something down in one fell swoop; I felt Cave Johnson give me his strength from beyond the grave. I decided to see if space aliens were flammable by disregarding any form of subtlety and just bumrushing them, spear swinging all the while. Still shaken from the act of self-immolation and scrambling to come up with a counter of their own, the psychological warfare value of a flaming madman stabbing you with a spear proved to be the alien's Kryptonite. All told, these two were incredibly smart, but more than that they were organized. Maybe they had another chat program open or something, but these two were absurdly coordinated. This was one of the few times I managed to disrupt their harmony, and it gave me the edge I needed. For a few seconds I tore into them, paying back what they had done to me over the course of several minutes. When they finally got back in-sync with one another, they unanimously decided to run the hell away. With shouts of "This isn't over!", they fled back into town and away from the Princess and I. The train STILL wasn't here. I was completely battered, and if they had just stuck around for a second longer, that would've been the end of the story. Still, a pyrric victory is still a win in my books, and I turned to the Princess and gave a simple "Believe me now?". She did. She also believed that we needed a new way out of Rogueport, which I was more than happy to agree with.

Hoofing it out of town was somewhat unacceptable because that's what the bad guys just did, so that limited things slightly. After a few seconds of looking around, we found a blimp offering nonstop service to somewhere named Glitzville. I don't care what the name was, when I got off of that airship I was convinced that it was where Pro Wrestlers went when they died. It was literally this fighting arena floating in the clouds, built up like a massive coliseum. I have no idea what the hell Super Paper Mario's plotline is and even now I don't have any goddamn clue, but between the cruise ships, aliens, and Wrestling afterlife it must have the most confusing story of all time. At any rate, we moved inside, and I judiciously purchased snacks to get my HP back up (With the Princess' help, of course. She had money and I still didn't, glorified murderhobo that I was.). There was one problem that we noticed, however, and it was that Glitzville is its own little world; it doesn't connect to anywhere and was a very, very flashy dead end. Still, it was probably a bad idea to head back down into Rogueport in case the terrible twosome was there looking for us, so we decided to lay low in a floating sky coliseum for a few minutes. It didn't take long for someone to stumble upon us, and boy, had I seen nothing yet.

At first, much like an eldritch abomination, my brain could not comprehend what had walked up and started engaging in conversation. He was talking like several different big-shot wrestlers all got mashed together into one man, and said man was some kind of bird-person-thing. Absolutely ripped, on every poster all over the Coliseum, and asking me who I was. I still couldn't articulate a sentence, so it was a good thing the Princess was quick on the draw. "He's The Best.". I will never get tired of that line for as long as I live. Of course, Birdman wasn't quite ready to believe it yet, but a flash of my username made him take a step back. Obviously he recognized me, but he still had some doubts. I called it from a mile away; he wanted to fight me in the ring. I was of two minds about this: It would frankly be really, really cool to throw down with the guy, but I was in the middle of saving the Kingdom. I declined politely, trying to get the point across that this was a really bad time and that I had some more important things to do. Just as I'm about to walk out of the door, he says it. A declaration, and a challenge I couldn't refuse. "I thought you were The Best!"

The Princess was probably about to jump to my defense, but I was quicker on the draw this time. I turned right around. "I am. Meet me in the ring." Saving the world could wait; beating this bird was now my top priority. I handed the Princess my spear and headed ringside. At this point in our story, I was more than a little nervous behind the screen. The only thing I had ever made sure this lovable yet murderous scamp was good at was wielding that spear of his, and with it out of my hands I felt positively naked. To make matters worse, I was stepping into a coliseum with a positively ripped professional wrestler; I had really little margin for error here. As I strode through the doors that led to the ring and gazed upon the massive audience of NPCs, the very beginnings of an idea started to form in my head. As he, too, made his entrance, I got an overwhelming feeling of Deja vu. This fight, in a sense, was nothing new; save for my opponent and the locale, this was a repeat of yesterday. There was little warmup; we both were eager to get this started, with him wanting to thrown down with The Best and me wanting to end this and get back on the road. He started off with some bombastic moves and acrobatics, staying true to his avian nature and attacking in drops and dives. I did my best to stay out of his way, but he was the one in charge here.

With his high-flying style, he controlled the pace of the match from the get go. Finding opportunities to try and get hits in was difficult, and I could only dodge for so long. Eventually, he changed tactics and tried to bring me to the floor with a lariat. I ducked his arm, and seeing this as what could potentially be my one and only opportunity to get a hit in, threw out a leg sweep. I was expecting him to dodge it and retaliate with something of his own, but not only did I connect, the way his response was worded was like he just got hit by a car. In that moment I remembered just who I was, and the enormous amount of weight my self-made title held in the eyes of these people. What the hell was I afraid of?

I was The Best.

To figure out just why this happened, take a minute to imagine what the conclusion to yesterday's match must have looked like to everyone but me. A nameless man challenges some hotshot that's been hooting about how great he was all damn day to a duel at Bowser's Castle, and without saying a word, brutally murders him and then disappears without a trace afterwards. That is the kind of edgy-ass intro and outro all of these people WISH they had, and I just sort of did it without even thinking about it. Because of that, rumors had spread about The Best. What he was truly capable of, where he had come from. At this point, not even I knew just how strong I really was. Truly, though, there was no better place to find out than in this ring, against this bird. I pushed my newfound advantage, and the tide began to turn. Every time he came down, I was ready for him. Instead of dodging, I was blocking and countering. The tables turned, and I threw in some style of my own. There was something inside of me that felt deeply, deeply validated when I came up with the idea to start using spears, as in the wrestling move, in this scuffle. I soon decided to really push the envelope, and go for suplexes. I didn't have a mirror anywhere near me, but I didn't need one to inform me of the big, stupid grin on my face when some tiny mushroom man grabbed a buff bird three times his size around the waist and actually pulled it off. In spite of all of this, the eagle would not fall, always managing to kick out at 2 and keep the fight going. Maybe it was a dare from him; some kind of pride that made him demand that I truly gave him all that I had. Perhaps he just wanted to drag out a fight with a legend for as long as he can. I'll never know his reasons, but they didn't matter. If I lingered here, there was the chance someone with less than wonderful intent would walk in and kidnap the Princess while I was distracted.

With this in mind, I had to go big: bigger than anything I had used so far. One move popped into my head before all others, and I decided to give my opponent a finishing barrage worthy of a Platinum game. He launches a few strikes of his own, but at this stage in the game I knew that I was a god among men. Like Neo at the end of the first Matrix, I blocked and no-sold everything he pulled out. Finally, he over-extended, and I saw my opportunity. Getting him in a grab once again, I launched into a wholesale stolen Final Atomic Buster, but I didn't stop there. After slamming him down into the mat and leaving him stunned, I sprinted out of the arena, shoulder-barging through my exit doors and rushing into the stands. From there, I ran up as high as I could go, and launched myself into an elbow drop that shook Glitzville to its very foundations. I transitioned into a pin, and at last, he stayed down. The Princess was cheering, the NPCs were cheering (But that wasn't news, they were always cheering), and I took a second to bask in the glory of it all, before remembering that there was still a world I had to save. I helped the turkey off of the floor and, as he described it, an indent in it shaped exactly like him. There was a small conversation afterwards, and I want to give the player behind that bird a shout-out. He never broke character once, and goddamn was he skilled in the art of a good RP fight. Still, my journey wasn't going to end here, so after some goodbyes, we got back on the Zepplin and the Princess and I came back down to earth. Unfortunately, it was not the same earth that we had left. In my fifteen or so minutes of absence, the aliens had gotten busy.

I had saved the Princess, yes. However, that was the only thing I had managed to save. Every other Princess at Peach's party was dead, logged out, or otherwise totally on-board with the new management. The general population of the server, easily swayed, were all over the chance to sign up as world-conquering aliens. Except the ones that weren't, which ended up becoming something called the X-Nauts in some attempt to fight the space aliens for control of the server. To put this lightly, the Kingdom was a war zone. Conflict and strife had erupted everywhere, and anarchy reigned. At first, I was ready to take up my spear and take on the entire world, but that's when I realised something. That's exactly what the last guy calling himself The Best did, and then I came around and knocked him clean off of his high horse; I could not let me pride consume me like it consumed my predecessor. No, if I was going to win this war, and bring peace back to the land, I needed a plan. To fight back this many people, I'd need an army of my own. Only problem was, I didn't have much left to work with. The aliens were converting anyone they could get their hands on at an alarming rate, The X-Nauts were razing everything they came across, and if I didn't act soon we'd be caught in the middle of it all. It was here that my mind came up with its final, greatest plan. I already had an army, for all intents and purposes. I just had to convince an old acquaintance to lend it to me. I told the Princess that we were going to pay Bowser a visit. For a minute, she thought that I had played the longest con in the business, and was about to hand her off. Fortunately for her, I hadn't come this far for a cop-out ending like that.

Our travel time to Bowser's domain was not a completely peaceful one, with lots of sneaking around on our parts. With everyone having moved on to other things, I was once again the only Green Toad on the map. If anyone caught sight of me, I'd be drowning in assailants from both sides of the fight, and chances are I'd lose the Princess in the human tidal wave. Once again, I do not know the storyline to Super Paper Mario, so for all I know, everything happening around me was super canonical. Still, I find it hard to believe that space aliens toting guns were fighting men from the moon decked out with technology all their own and even some towering mecha, in this universe most known for an oversized turtle that kidnaps the same Princess from her castle over and over again with two plumbers playing the hero. Either way, we made the trip to Bowser's castle a little easier when we stole one of his airships and simply flew all the way there. You'd think that would attract a lot of attention, but so do giant robots piloted by space men laying siege to your town. We slipped through by simply being part of the background noise. We DID, however, end up attracting a lot of attention from Bowser, and what little forces he had managed to hold onto during this war.

The welcome we recieved, by flying up to Bowser's own fortress in one of his stolen airships, was a lot less than warm. It was plenty warm temperature-wise, active lava flows have a tendency to ensure that, but that did little to warm the ice-cold stare of a few Koopas at the front gate. The fortress was already on edge given all the fighting everywhere else, it's a wonder they didn't try shooting us down before we even got this close. Still, as I strolled down from the ship's wheel and dismounted with the Princess, the general tone at Casa de Bowser went from "barely-restrained fury" to "utter confusion" real damn fast. They were prepared for an army, hell they were probably ready for a last stand, but the moment they commanded me and the Princess to halt, and demanded to know who I was, they collectively realized that they weren't prepared for just one Green Toad. I told them three words, and revealed my username for the whole fortress to see.

"I'm The Best."

Their momentary silence spoke volumes, more than what came out of their mouths next ever could. They could have done a lot in that situation, and what they chose to do was doubt my claim. It was a pretty sensible move on their part, after all if a man came to your front door and claimed to be the President, the first word out of a lot of people's mouths is going to be "Bullshit". Unlike the possibility of the President upon your doorstep, they next decided to attack me. And that second part told me everything I wanted to know about the company Bowser still held. They were tenacious, weren't afraid of literally anyone, and had so much loyalty that they would sooner throw themselves at the mushroom equivalent of Chuck Norris over disappointing their lord. They went down in a few moves on my part, but I knew I was in the right place. I told the Princess to hang around outside of the gates, and that I wouldn't be long. More came in behind them, happily a few more troops than I was expecting Bowser to have. It was a creative writing exercise on my part; I had to find a way to disable or knock out every combatant that came at me without roughing them up too bad, after all if my plan worked these were going to be my soldiers. Skipping over a stroll through Bowser's castle with a couple of speedbumps on the way, I made it to the same courtyard I had begun yesterday's deathmatch in. And wouldn't you know it, Bowser was waiting for me atop his balcony. I didn't have to say a word, he knew who I was. He didn't know why I was here, though, and that part got me to say quite a mouthful. In short, I needed an army to take back the Mushroom Kingdom, I had the Princess on my side, and he was the world's only shot at getting thoroughly un-fucked. And here, I got some very lovely exposition on the situation and exactly the level of fucked the world was at that moment in time.

As far as Bowser was concerned, it was already too late. The aliens had everything they needed to complete some kind of ritual or something, the usual "Unseal the ancient evil" type of plot, you know the kind. The only thing really stalling them was the X-Nauts, and even then it wasn't going to last for much longer. The moment this thing was out of its can, the aliens were going to bowl over everything that wasn't them. But to top it all off, out of everything he COULD have called Bullshit on, he thought I didn't have the Princess. That was the easiest fix in the world, all I did was whistle and she was by my side in an instant. I don't know what it was about that gesture, but the moment Peach came into the frame, he did a complete 180 and agreed to help. If it was all screwed anyway, then he thought he owed it to his men, the Princess, and even me to be, and I quote, "The nastiest thorn in their purple side for as long as we can!". Which was a hell of a motivation, but from there? We had a start. I had my army, I had the Princess, and I had a clock counting down to Doomsday. What I didn't have was an assault plan.

I did have experience and a black belt in kicking asses by these folk's standards, though. So I let Bowser figure out the finer points of the assault, while I grabbed up every Goomba, Paratroopa, Koopa, EVERYONE I could get my hands on inside that fortress, and I trained them. It was a crash course if ever there was one, and I knew that at best, these guys were only going to get me so far. Still, when an army "trained by The Best himself" came rolling over the hills, suddenly these mooks were going to be looked at like supersoldiers. I devoted no time to planning the assault out myself, as I figured, having done it so many times and with me at his side, Bowser needed no help coming up with a plan for breaking into Princess Peach's castle, and my faith was not misplaced. The X-Nauts had the full brunt of the alien's attention, currently launching an all-out, last-ditch offensive from the harbor in some vain attempt to get in and drive them out before their Cthulhu cult did its job. We were going to come in from the side, using the very airship I rode in on, and take the aliens by surprise. We were nothing more than a handful of hopeful idiots, but we had Bowser, and we had me. With the element of surprise, he thought, smashing into the castle and taking out the aliens was going to be a cakewalk. Getting out again was going to be the problem, but he thought I could take care of that part on my own. I didn't object to that. After all, I was The Best.

And here, I took a moment to realize just how far I had come in the past few days. As I had said at the very start of this chapter, I had gone from some nameless jackass to the new Meta literally overnight. I didn't come out here to be the hero, but here I was, at the forefront of an army I had personally trained to save the world from an alien invasion. From beating back cyborgs with big words to suplexing a buff bird in the great Wrestlemania in the sky, my story was a winding, insane pathway that I don't think will ever be replicated. And one way or another, when I got on that airship, it was going to have an ending. I was going to do everything in my power, and perhaps a few things beyond it, to see this through to the bitter conclusion.

Just before we departed, there was one thing I had to take care of. I had to ensure that, during this whole escapade, nobody swooped in and stole Peach out from under me. Honestly, at this point she had little value in the grand scheme of things but I'd be the shittiest goddamn hero ever if I let the Princess get offed during the big battle with evil. I couldn't keep her at my side, we were marching into a war zone. I couldn't just leave her at the castle, as everyone and everything was coming on this assault, and either side could kick down the doors with no one home. Eventually, I picked one of the more useful people in my army, and told him to stay with the ship for as long as he could, both to defend Peach and to rain down hell with the cannons. Something about me calling him "The best in the army" really sold it to him, though, and he agreed to the plan. That was all the preparations I could make, because we were out of time. By the way things sounded in the Global chat, it was now or never. Everyone piled on to the ship, Bowser took the helm, and I climbed up the mast to deliver a pre-battle speech to my men. I don't remember the whole thing, but I remember the gist and spirit of it.

For as long as anyone could remember, this land had heroes. Gods to some, they were so almighty on the field of battle that none could ever hope to best them. And as far as anyone knew, no one could surpass them. Everyone in front of me, from the Goombas to the King Koopa himself, had lived in the shadows these figures cast on history. Well right now, I didn't see those heroes. Instead, I saw in front of me something far brighter, far deadlier, far stronger. Now, it was everyone else's time to shine. This was OUR time, damnit, and for once in our lives, WE were the giants people would look up to, not because of some prophesy or some pre-ordained onus of heroism, but because we had fought tooth and nail for everything we had. And now, in this dark hour, it wasn't gods that rode on wings of fury to save the world, but the common folk with absolutely nothing to lose.

When that first volley of cannon fire left the Airship, the Aliens had no idea we were even coming. Two seconds afterwards, though, they found out real quick. Bowser didn't just land the ship, no, he ran it aground right through a column of the purple bastards and the broadsides started FLYING after that. I vaulted the railing, leading my army from the forefront, and from there it was all a blur of combat. I can't know what happened for sure, I was so sucked up in the high of warfare that my eyes were focused solely on that castle at the end of town. I think when Bowser crashed the ship, it gave the aliens such a shock that their front line basically collapsed, and the X-Nauts came pouring through. It was absolute goddamn pandemonium. The chat was moving so fast that I just closed it, instead relying on the speech bubbles popping up over people's heads to react to the warfare around me. We had aliens in front of us, X-nauts at our rear, and in the center of it all, a legendary Green Toad and his elite fighting force annihilating all that dared approach. Bowser was a one-man wrecking crew, bashing down X-Naut mechs faster than they could get to the combat zone, while I had attained a level of power so ridiculous that I was parrying gunshots with my spear.

I was invincible, shouts of "IT'S HIM!" and "IT'S THE BEST!" popping up so frequently that they accounted for nearly half of the local chatter. Nothing could stand in my way, but that didn't stop everyone from trying. The element of surprise only helped for so long, because as soon as they knew who I was, EVERYONE came swarming twoards me. My progress twoards the castle was slow, but I was simultaneously the unstoppable force and the immovable object. They could slow me down by sheer weight of numbers, but there was no halting our advance. Knee-deep in the conflict, I became blind to just how dire my situation was getting until far too late. I was making progress twoards the castle, yes, but things had been taking a turn for the worse right under my nose for a while. My men were good, but they had their limits. I had started to lose them, and it's only when I took a look behind me that I only saw four of them left, including Bowser.

At this point in the fight, the aliens had lost too much ground, and too many numbers. What remained was falling back inside the castle as a last line of defense, but the X-Nauts just kept coming. Whenever they'd lose someone, that guy would just run back to the Harbor and re-join the fray as reinforcements. There was absolutely no end to them, and soon making our way to the castle doors wasn't the biggest of our concerns. The X-nauts were grabbing all the space we gave up, and soon the five of us found out backs up against the castle doors, too busy fighting for our lives to get inside. I lost another man to the tide, but I couldn't fight any harder. I was hitting the limit of how fast I could type out coherent actions, there were just too many. On the other side of the screen, I was sweating bullets, both metaphorically and physically, because I was beginning to think I couldn't do this. I know that analogy that says, "What's a mob to a king?" and frankly, I don't think that man has seen what a pissed-off mob of people can do. Back against the wall, typing to my limit, I thought I had come all this way to finally fail right at the finish line.

And then, it happened. Lady Luck hid an ace up her sleeve from me this entire time. Chekhov's gun got speed-loaded and fired, because  Rawk Hawk dove out of the sky with the most literal interpretation of an RKO out of fucking nowhere I will ever witness. I don't even know how the hell he got up that high, the game didn't include methods of flight, and Glitzville was across the goddamn map. But SOMEHOW, that glorious bastard came in during the 11th hour, with an entrance so perfect that for a moment, I wanted to name him my successor. With typical professional wrestling banter, he tore into the crowd in front of us like a hurricane, and I knew that this was going to be the last miracle I got today. I told whoever was left to buy me time, and I kicked in the front door to the palace.

The war raged outside, and now inside I waged a one-mushroom offensive on everything those extraterrestrial bastards could muster. I channeled the collective fury of everyone that had ever played an XCOM game, and I ripped and teared my way to the room where the ritual was taking place. I don't know the names of any that stood beside me on this fateful day, and held that door, but if you find this story and you read it, know that I await you in Valhalla, brothers. Shoutouts aside, I made it to the ritual chamber. I found out I had made it too late, JUST too late, probably because the Ayys wanted to win so bad they had started to bend the rules. Either way, they had their God or Leader or whatever the hell they were trying to summon right there in the chamber. Frankly, I expected hentacle tentai or Cthulhu, what I got made very little sense and frankly almost felt like a cop-out. Standing in front of me, in the middle of this somewhat intimidating ritual circle, I had what I can realistically describe as an edgy Princess Peach and her Stand, The Downward Spiral. Upon looking this one up after the fact, I now know that I was staring at the Shadow Queen, but that name is nowhere near as good as what I came up with. And lo and behold, the first thing she asks is who dares to defy her.

Do I even need to type out what I said at this point?

The only noteworthy thing about her response is that she had never heard of me. Which frankly, is both an insult that a fourth grader would come up with, but also absolutely perfect given the context of everything about me. I properly introduced myself via a spear stab to her midsection, which didn't go over very well with her OR what little lackeys she had left. In the grand scheme of things, it's sort of funny how this adventure began and semi-ended with the same three words, in the same place. Upon looking it up, I now know the term for this is "bookending" but damn if life doesn't work out sometimes. Anyway, this final brawl proved to be one hell of a show, looking back. She was pretty reliant on that Stand of hers, a lot of stuff involving hands that sort of gave me a few flashbacks to Geb, but legally distinct from Geb because these are made of shadows or some stupid shit. It was a big game of keep away for her, because she could just keep the damn hands coming all day long, but I still had to land a hit on the actual her to keep the show going as planned. To pull out a cringeworthy joke on any readers, I was trying to catch her, while she was trying to make me catch those hands.

Still, a mob fight involving twenty different people is a lot different than one person controlling twenty different things. I was still fighting in mob mode, and she just couldn't keep up. I would have loved to know just how quickly I was launching my assault during that, get some kind of time-traveling WPM counter so I have a solid statistic to give you, but without that I have to describe it. I was typing pretty fucking fast, to avoid flowery language or a dumb analogy. She still dragged out the war of attrition for as long as she had patience, but at this point in the story I had come too far, and sacrificed too much to give any ground in there. Like the dragon a day prior, she gave up too much ground, got cornered, and I promptly finished the job. Unlike the dragon, she had enough respect for both the narrative at play and herself, and played out her downfall. Kudos to her, because with that one action she was already a better roleplayer than a lot of the folks that came before her. So, job's done, hero wins, evil is defeated, right?

I fucking wish it ended there. GOD, do I wish it ended there. In my mind, the X-Nauts would have fallen back, I would have strolled out of the palace, and me and my surviving troops would celebrate with whatever the Mario equivalent of a cold one with the boys is. But no, sometimes fate demands a final act.

I made my way back to the door, only to find that my troops were all dead and the X-nauts were swarming the lobby. Rawk Hawk, Bowser, every last one fought to the bitter end, of that I'm fucking certain, but in the end, they were overrun. I couldn't accept it! I flung open the chat window, trying to find ANY record of that battle, frantically scrolling up as far as it would let me. Maybe they just fell back inside the castle, and they're waiting for me to come rescue them. Maybe they doubled-back to the airship and they're going to come in and pick me up in a really badass, "You thought we were dead, haha!" sort of way. No, they were gone. They put up a slobberknocker of a fight and raised hell for as long as they could, but every last one died defending that door. And that wasn't all, no, if that was all maybe I could have accepted it. Wrought bloody vengeance on the X-Nauts until they gave up the ghost themselves, but no. I saw in the Global Chat the one thing I absolutely, positively did not need to read with my own two eyes. Somehow, two of those alien bastards broke through every last goddamn X-Naut, got to the airship, took down my best man, and they stole the Princess.

And at that point, all I saw was red.

I do not know where I summoned the typing speed from, nor do I think I will ever manage it again, but when those X-Nauts finally found me, they didn't even have time to call it in. I was on them like shit on a pig, and more than that, I wasn't stopping for anyone. Squads, mechs, it was all the same in my mind, just more obstacles between me and the only goddamn thing that mattered in this bloodbath. I kept one hateful eye staring into the global chat, and something kept turning over in my mind. Their names seemed so familiar to me, but I couldn't place them. Steeped as I was in the battle, my brain devoted solely to ripping through an entire army singlehandedly, I didn't know who I was dealing with. I hauled ass out of the town and cut down anything that tried to stop me, the X-Nauts could have the goddamn palace if they wanted it so badly. And only now, holding W harder than I had ever held a key in my life, did I recognize those two names. These two are the ones that started it all. That couple I saw behind the house, The aliens that shot up the palace, the duo that fought me at the train station, those two insurmountable dickheads that just couldn't accept defeat like everyone else, and had to try and drag me down with them. I thought they were going to kill the Princess any minute, petty bastards that they were, but no. They decided they were going to do it onboard a train just to fucking taunt me. Ride off into the sunset, kill Peach when you get there, and then log out. No chance for me to interfere.

But I knew that train real goddamn well, and it took its sweet-ass time getting to that station.

And I ran. I ran so far away. I just ran, I ran all night and damn well to the crack of dawn, because those bastards weren't getting away. Getting to Rogueport without the ferry, especially when you're traveling from the town, is a daunting prospect. It's not like you're running a cross-continent marathon, but with everything riding on my ability to get there before the train did, you can't fathom how long that sprint felt like it took. The train arrived before I did. They got onboard, but before it pulled out of the station, I slipped on. I made it there with time to spare, and in the interim, we could do nothing but awkwardly stare at one another, knowing full well the confrontation that was about to take place the moment this train left the station. It all came down to this, one final showdown between me and them. They had numbers and guns. Unlike last time, all I had was my spear. No miracle hotsauce to tip the scales, no healing items to call upon to drag it out. And just like last time, they had no idea who they were dealing with.

The train left the station, and we were transported to an endless bridge over an ocean, the train hurtling twoards the unknown. The sun was just breaking over the horizon, and the moment the game let us move, it was on. They tried the guns, but I was knocking blasts out of the sky like it was nobody's business. They tried to attack the Princess again, but this time I got so thoroughly in the way that they couldn't even reach her. Still, these two had otherworldly coordination, and a desire to see me fail almost as strong as my need to win. There was no cavalry coming. If I failed here, my legend was going to die with me. Lady Luck had pulled every string she could just to get me on this train; she had nothing left to give me, and in the back of my mind, I knew it. Both of them wouldn't accept defeat, not even taking a blow here and there to make the fight seem fair. They just wanted victory. I needed to make my own luck, and to do that I needed to throw the playbook out the window; do something so unconventional that not even they would see it coming. I did the absolutely unthinkable, gave a mental farewell to the only ally I had left, and threw my spear.

I threw it knowing full well they would dodge it without a second thought. Whenever he dodged, he moved his in-game character a little bit, just to make it feel that much more real. So when he went to dodge it, I "physically" sprinted right at him, and used the momentum of my in-game avatar to bodycheck him right off the train. No amount of godmodding or powerplaying can save you from literal, inescapable death, and just like that the fight was one-on-one.

The remaining alien was none too pleased with my maneuvering, and redoubled their assault to try and kill me. I was having fucking none of it anymore; I slapped that ray gun out of their hand and gave them a hook to the jaw. The fight with Rawk Hawk flashed through my mind, and I once again called upon every close-combat move I could muster. The chips were crooked, the dice were weighted, but I had no choice anymore. A spite-fueled grudge match on the top of a speeding train probably looked cool as all get out to any spectators, but in my mind there wasn't anything about looking cool, or being flashy. It was about being The Best. It was about saving the Princess, about conquering all of the odds, about being the hero everyone thought I was. But more than that? It was about beating this stuck-up, godmodding bastard in a straight-up fight. Still, there's only so much you can do in a roleplay fight when the other person doesn't want you to win. Take it from me, because I tried everything. There was no reasoning with them, there was no outplaying them. They wanted to see me die, and I wanted to see them fail. Only one person can get what they want out of a conflict like that, or so I thought. Something finally dawned on me, trading blows with this thing on top of the train for what felt like aeons. Nobody was walking away from this, and that is the only way this is going to end.

I had to face facts, I was going to die on top of this train but so were they. A world where neither of us win, but in a way, we both get what we want. I made my move, grabbing them with both hands and forcing them to the train's edge, both in RP and with my avatar. They fought the entire time, trying to squirm out of it, knowing what I was trying, but I wasn't letting anyone live. Not them, not me. I backed up just a hair's breath, and then came at them full-speed. The avatars ended up colliding with one another, flooring both of us as we tumbled over the side together. As I went over the edge, I said one final sentence to the Princess before I hit the water and met my fate. "Tell my story." And just like that, we slammed full-speed into the kill-zone underneath the bridge together, the alien keysmashing in impotent fury the entire time. A pyrric victory for me, but a victory nonetheless. I started to go through the motions to log out, and just before I exited, I saw the Princess' final words. She never even knew my name. Only that I was The Best.

That's my story, and I swear to god it's true. I'm sharing it because a few friends demanded a writeup, and while it took me a while to get it all together, better late than never. I don't want any fame from this, and I can guarantee that, for that reason alone, anyone claiming to be me is lying. The Best's story is finished, ended. Only a handful people know who it was, and I'm content with that. I'll go down in the annuls of nameless history like I've always wanted. All the fame, none of the consequences. Thanks for reading all the way through, you have a good day.

[rashaituckerunit6]

ZINE - La Flame

In all honesty, I first thought I was going to just stick to the theme “CUT-COPY-PASTE” but the more I started to create my zines the more I wanted to be creative and make my zines truly outstanding. In total, I covered three themes for my zines. I covered “CUT-COPY-PASTE”, Layered chaos and Sparton zen. With my first zine that I created, I did not use the theme cut-copy-past. I ended up doing my own illustration and doing a sparton zen themed zine. I wanted the zine to be aggressive but peaceful at the same time, or dark / gritty and show enlightening hope. Because my zines involved around the artist Travis Scott, I thought it would be a good idea to portray his dark and gritty albums ( RODEO / DAYS BEFORE RODEO ) to his new bright up beat albums ( Birds In The Trap / ASTROWORLD ). With this idea in my head I thought it would be cool to illustrate a drawing of him with half of his face being blacked out with white sharp teeth. That would portray his old albums that were dark and gritty. On the other side of the face, It would still show sharp teeth with him smiling but with his face not being blacked out. This would portray his current album ASTROWORLD. He would still have the sharp teeth because In ASTROWORLD it still has slight dark themed meanings in some of the songs. I thought having a pink background would look cool as well and make the face pop out. In the beginning the split Travis Scott face had more detail in the creases of the mouth and chin but I wanted to make it more mundane. I ended up using the level tool and darkened one side while keeping the teeth bright and sharp. I wanted to use this as a front and back cover for the zines. The front would be the dark themed (Travis Scott) and the back would be the light themed (Travis Scott). I am happy about how my front and back cover looks but I think I feel like I could have added something more like a simple text.

The second page that I had created ended up being a mix of layered chaos and  CUT-COPY-PAST themed zine. I looked for images where Travis Is performing and going all out in performing. I got about three where he is live and looking intense. I wanted to use three to show his energy and craziness but also show that he is not just some crazy person. I got a pictured of him smiling to the fans as well. I used the magnetic lasso tool, magic wand tool, quick selection tool and move tool. This allowed me to take the images and cut out anything that I didn't want. I overlapped the images of Travis over each other and had the ASTROWORLD concert in the background. Because this page  specifically has to do with ASTROWORLD, I tried to make it not look super dark or gritty. Hence why the biggest picture out of all the Travis's is him smiling looking over all the other Travis's. The last thing that I added was a grainy effect. I wanted it to look a little like an advertisement for a magazine ( just a little ).  I thought it looked amazing and was not to complicated to create. It took time and patience to make sure I cut out each of the Travis Scott pictures. I have no regrets as to how this page came out for the zine. It was fairly easy compared to the other pages that I had to create.

Moving on to the third page for the zine, It was now time to create A RODEO themed page. In the album rodeo, there is a very significant and recognizable figure in the album. The doll of Travis Scott is heavily shown for the cover of the album. I thought it would be a good idea to now base this page as a sparton zen themed page. I would then draw the doll with the names of the songs in the album around it. I wouldn't draw to much detail nor add colour. Why not add colour? I thought it looked better and would stand out more if it didn't have any colour. I kept that sketchy draft look of the doll by not erasing to much of the outline of the doll. Mainly used the brush tool and changed the hardness and texture of the brush to a more flow look. I added a grainy texture to it all to make it look even more cooler. If I had not added the grain, I feel like it would been to plain. I added the parent advisory explicit content box to make it look like an actual vinyl cover, or cd cover. I love this page because of its simplicity.  I am indeed happy with this page. Because it is rodeo and sparton zen themed, I wanted to have the doll staring at you to indeed portray it as creepy but at the same time peaceful. Once again, I was trying to have all my ASTROWORLD themed pages not as dark and grimy as the RODEO themed pages.

The fourth page that I had was pretty fun to make. I was on face time with my friend in my country, who listens to Travis Scott as well. We were talking about cool ideas and interesting things that a photographer could see at a Travis Scott concert. He started to talk about mosh pits and I instantly thought about what others don't see unless they down and dirty in the mosh pits. I decided once again to do a sparton zen theme page which would show aggressiveness but peaceful vibes. A person can indeed get a bloody nose and bruises on their eye in the mosh pit but they could also be enjoying themselves and have the adrenalin so they could possibly not even feel the bruises that they have. All true Travis Scott ragers know that If you go to a Travis Scott conert, there are no bystander's. You best be jumping and moving like there aint no tomorrow. I decided to illustrate a person who is at an ASTROWORLD concert a little bloody and bruised from being in a mosh pit but having a great time. This was very fun for me because I was able to draw a character from my imagination. Because I love drawing characters and in a manga style, I decided why not add a little manga inspired illustration to the page. I ended up with a character who had brown hair and wearing one of his merch t shirts. I got the ear piercing an nose piercing inspiration from myself. When I had initially finished it, I didn't like how the character looked unnatural and unrealistic. I added a grainy effect to it and also made his hair transparent a little bit and flow with the background lights and strobes. It shocked me as to how it looked way better than just him having brown hair looking at the photographer. Because it is sparton zen, I did show that it could be dark and gritty with the blood and bruises but I also wanted to show he is not angry and is actually enjoying himself. He is smiling. The main tools I used to illustrate this page was the brush tool, magic wand tool and quick selection tool. I also played around with the curves to change the darkness of his hair and transparency.  I am extremely happy with what It looks like. I didn't expect it too turn out as good as it looks. I originally didn't like that  he stood out that much because he is a manga inspired illustration but I think that when people draw non realistic drawings into realistic photos it looks eye catching. I had to fiddle around with the transparency and blending mode to get the proper colours set for his hair skin and t shirt. With the drawing tablet I have at home, it allowed m to draw it better than a mouse. But because it is a very tiny and cheap one, its not easy drawing like how I do on paper. I am currently saving money for one that the college provides or better.

For this page, it has to be by far my favourite out of all of the pages for the zine. I personally like Travis Scotts old albums where his music was dark, grimy and gritty. Because this next page had to be RODEO themed I decided again to pick sparton zen. I also did a little bit of layered chaos for this page. This pages illustration was way harder to draw than the previous page. The previous pages illustration had slight bruises and blood but because this person went to a Travis Scott concert  where mainly rodeo and days before rodeo songs where playing, the moshpit was a lot more aggressive with day one OG Travis Scott fans. I had to step out of my cum fort zone and draw a different perspective of a person lying on the floor chin up and thumbs up looking ok.  I am terrible at for shortening so it was difficult drawing and SHADING the hand. I find shading hard but I tried best. Another thing is that I am very unused to drawing on a drawing pad compared to a good old pen and paper. The main reason why I ended up drawing on my pad Is because I didn't have enough time to copy and render anything where I could colour it in the computer. I did enjoy drawing the character though. In the page it shows the illustrated character ( wearing Travis Scott RODEO merch t shirt ) lying down on the floor with a bloody nose, swollen eye, bloody lip and dazed but HAPPY. You have other people around him enjoying the the party. This specific page took me a good set of hours to create. In total it took me about 8 hours straight no break to finish. The main tools that I used as the brush tool to draw the character, quick selection and magic wand tool to cut out the images that I would layer on top of each other. I also thought it would look sick as either an album cover, vinyl cover or CD, so once again I added the Parental Advisory image. I used once again a grainy layer over everything to make it even more grimy and dark. I honestly love this page a lot because I am proud as to how I am being aware of the importance of layers. Separating and creating new layers for each and every important thing. This shows that I can step out of my comfort zone and illustrate things I wouldn't usually. So yes I am extremely hay with what I created for this page. Love it!

With the 5th page coming along , I wanted to create something pretty eye catching and tripy to look at. Because this page had to be ASTROWORLD themed, I thought it would be cool to implament a songs meaning. One of the songs of the album is STARGAZING. I thought it would be cool to have a galaxy looking page with the golden Travis Scott head fading towards the person. At the very end I made the Travis Scott Head pretty visible but bright. I also made sure there was a alaxy with sparkling stars and distant plants. I ended up putting the same text tat you get on the back of a t shirt if you get on  of his merch T shirts. I decided to put it directly in the middle because It grabs the viewers attention. The eyes might wonder all around the page to see and view everything but in the end the main thing that will immediately grab their attention is the test “ WISH YOU WERE HERE”. I  kept the text bright and white. In order to create such A cool page for my zine I had to duplicate the head, make them transparent at a certain limit and make them smaller as they move towards the back ( top of the page ). I left one of the heads not as transparent as the others and changed the blending mode. I also used the quick selection tool, magic wand tool and the magnetic lasso tool. This allowed me to cut out the golden Travis Scott head. The zine theme that I had chosen was layered chaos. Each head was being layered on repeat. I thought that this zine page was unique and outstanding like the others as well. It was simple but eye catching. I honestly do not really have any regrets o

Coming to the last page of the zine, It had to be Rodeo themed. If you look closely you can notice a pattern. Rodeo themes page, astro themed page, rodeo … astro... etc. I decided to make the last page not only rodeo themed but also layerd chaos. I feel like the picture of Travis Screaming or galoping, what ever you want to call it , its a good representation of layers chaos. Truthfully when I finished this page, I thought it was a good way to end it. It shows a bunch of crazy, chaotic Travis Scott raging off into the Texas night. I put the text La Flame there in bright red letters because it is another name fans call him. Its red to implement ( flame/fire ) as well. I didn't want to add to much texts or random objects in it. I decided to put the main Travis Scott horse slightly away from the others to represent leadership. It looks like its Travis leading his loyal fans into the night to rage and party to the end. There is no size or gender that Travis will deny to follow him into the night. Creating, I used the magic wand tool, quick selection tool and move tool. This allowed me to cut out Travis and duplicate him. With the colours that you see that fade into the night, I made sure it all faded smoothly and pretty by messing around with the blending mode. I kept the parental advisory explicit content icon because once again it look kind of like a vinyl or cd cover. Because Travis Scott is from HOUSTEN TEXAS and names his album RODEO I thought it would be pretty smart to implement that into a zine page. In Texas the first thing that comes to my mind is cowboy hats, horses, bulls, cactus etc.

[privycommblog3p18-blog]

Audience Studies (3P18) Blog Post #3

Throughout this blog, I will be discussing how I have been an audience to social media and seen the way it frames stories. I watch as it takes information, manipulates it, and makes people believe things that are both deceiving and ignorant. This happens in all types of media but I find that this happens most specifically when referring to news and politics.

Lately I have been feeling really frustrated while being online. Part of the reason is because I am, more now than ever, realizing how much of a minority opinion I have in comparison to what is being most broadly showcased through social media. This would not be such a big issue if I felt my voice was, in some way, being heard. The problem, is that my opinions are not heard and I can guarantee I am not the only one who feels the way I do, yet I seem to be one of the few people that is willing to stand up against this. Earlier in the year we discussed a topic called spiral of silence which is essentially the idea that people will stay silent when they do not share the opinion of the majority. This not only leads to people’s voices not being heard, but calls into question how democratic our society truly is. I think that a big reason why this could be happening is because of the transfer from “producers” being the dominant producers of content, to “procumers” who are the consumers who are also influencing the production. This is very much related to symbolic patronage which provides one measured example of a way in which audiences now have a greater ability to influence production and industry decision-making (Navar-Gill, 2018). By giving people the ability to control content, we loose the ability to censor what is true and what is not.

Even though I do not agree with the way that our media is evidently one sided, I am still able to understand that in order for producers to be successful and for them to be able to continue putting out their content, they need to be producing for the masses. With this means producing for the dominant ideology in society. This is unfortunate for me because it will in turn make me feel like my opinion is not valid. On the other hand, it is unfortunate for the masses because they are now only being exposed to one side of things which limits their ability to have a fully rounded view of the topic.  

Going a little further into my rant about how frustrated I am, I want to talk about the idea of Alchemy. Alchemy is when “A base metal is being transformed into gold, or at least mundane data are being transformed into a virtual currency unit” (Athique, p. 64). This is important in audience studies because it is our ability to create value from our essentially worthless data through aggregation of details. The reason that this relates to my topic, is because it exemplifies the idea that people are able to take useless information that no one is affected by, put a twist on it and make it blow up on the internet framed as something it isn’t. Antique expands on this and is able to relate it to how people use this for advertising, marketing and consumption purposes. Just because I love ranting SO MUCH.. I am going to give a personal experience with this. Two weekends ago, I had the honor of attending the Provincial Conservative Convention in Toronto as a delegate representing Brock. With being a delegate came the responsibility of voting on proposed constitutional amendments and other possible propositions. One of the things that I had the chance to vote on was Policy Resolution R4—Education and Community Safety. Essentially what this was trying to get across was that as of right now, the educational system teaches and promotes “gender identity theory”. If it is nothing but an ideology or theory and not fact, it is not something that the conservative party wants to be taught until it is defined so that there is no confusion to the children who are learning it. If Gender is defined more clearly then the conservative party would fully respect it being taught, but an ideology is not enough for them. When the media got a hold of this policy resolution they went crazy. A big thing that we learn about in our Audience Studies class is the idea of framing, which is “the selection of certain aspects of reality in order to make them more salient in a bid to promote a desired interpretation” (Entman, 1993). With this specific situation, framing is what completely misconstrued the masses. The way that people began to see this story was that Conservatives hate LGBTQ which is not true at all. More specifically I saw a post that a woman made on Facebook as seen bellow. She utilized the theory of Recontextualization which is when gaps are filled in texts by adding in stories or missing scenes (Good, Lecture), She did this by making her own content up to give a false context. When I saw what she wrote, I was filled with rage because I am beyond tired of seeing people who are not educating themselves on topics, becoming prosumers and putting false information out to the world. When people do this, they often use a catchy title and draw people in. The worst part is that people who are using social media are often not interested enough to do research or explore the topic and they believe the headline which is almost always exaugurated and opinionated, not fact. In this situation, the woman is attempting to say that Conservatives are trying to erase people’s existences which is so incredibly far from the intent its actually comical.  I attached my response to the post to give you guys an idea of how I tried to interject while staying somewhat respectful.

I believe that the comment I made could add to a potential moral realignment. This is when the original narratives moral universe is inverted. What happens is the villains’ adapt their own stories and become the protagonists (Good, Lecture). By me being respectful and showing her that she can not blabber on, I opened up the doors for her to change perspective and possibly do some further research. I, being the villain here, because I share a different view, could now become the protagonist because I have made a stance that could entice people to look further into me and other things I believe in.

Feeding off of this post, I want to briefly mention “SME” which stands for social media editor’s. Overall, “SMEs emphasized technology and human interest stories while downplaying the conflict and economic impact frames” (Wasike, 2013). Evidently this woman could not be more clear with acting as an SME.Going away from my own example but looking at the topic as a whole, SMEs can relate, especially when talking about politics, the stories that make it big on social media are based entirely on progressive issues relating to people and technology. The second that economic impact is brought in, the story becomes boring or seen as ‘ignorant”. This is why it is so hard to talk about facts online. To quote my favourite political speaker, Ben Shapiro, “Facts don’t care about your feelings”. The reason that I love this quote so much is because I believe that people today are way too hung up on the way that they feel and become micro aggressed by everything that they see to the point that people are ignoring facts to compensate for the way that people feel. This can become dangerous, especially online because it increases the chance for false information to be spread just because it makes people feel good.

During lecture, we discussed data mining and how “The primary motivation of the data-mining process is to create value through the aggregation of details which in their raw form are largely worthless” (Good, Lecture). I find this idea really interesting because often when there is a lot of information on a topic, the pieces that seem the most interesting or shocking become the main focus similar to clickbait. This is done by combining several smaller points to create something bigger. The problem with this is that a lot gets left out and people become uninformed.

At this point I know I have been ranting quite a bit but I want to finish off this rant by discussing a few more issues that really urg me at times.

A big part of the Navar-Gill article was understanding the difference between transformational and affirmational fandom. Transformational fans are primarily those who want to celebrate women, queer or minorities who feel underappreciated by the media (Navar-Gill, 2018). Affirmational Fans are seen as male, white and heterosexual. These are people who are unaware of their own media privileges (Navar-Gill, 2018). Right now, there is a big push in the media to see only the progressive voice, but a question that I must raise is “at what point are we progressive enough, and when are we going to far?”. I understand that transformational and affirmational fans are using generalizations to define them but it bothers me that we are told that being male, white, and heterosexual also means that you are unaware of your privileges. As if it is impossible to have a different opinion. The point I am trying to make here is that this leftist ideology is even in our education system. Refocalization, which is when the focus of the character shifts to secondary or minor characters, is often done to allow minorities and women a chance to be heard (Good, Lecture). It is something that I am happy that has been implemented to allow those voices to be heard. I will not argue that we need to be accepting and celebrate our minorities as the transformational fans do, but I do not think that this should mean hating on affirmational fans as they each serve a different purpose.

My rant is over, but I just want to leave you with something to think about. Please, when you are on social media, do not allow the first thing you read to leave a lasting impression of the topic. Do some research and educate yourself to give yourself your own opinion and a voice. Stand up for yourself when you see people spewing false information and only share factual information.

[freddanielsenk]

Video is the Emperor: 5 Video Options for Agents to Fuel Facebook Reach

If you’ve attended any training classes or lunch-n-learns on real estate marketing (or have read anything on marketing best-practices for that matter), you’ve likely heard that “content is King.”

But if you’re trying to drive eyeballs to your Facebook page … video is the Emperor!

Let me explain.

Studies have found that Facebook video gets triple the engagement and 1,200% more shares than text and image posts combined. And, videos uploaded directly to Facebook (we call this “natively” because it lives directly on Facebook vs. a platform like YouTube), get 110% higher engagement and 478% higher share rates (on average) than simply sharing a link to a video.

Before you get worried, I have a few solutions below that require no physical presence in front of the camera. No hair and makeup. No shaving. No first-time-in-front-of-a-camera jitters. So, keep reading!

Why does video work for Facebook?

There are a couple reasons why video works so well on Facebook:

People love visual content and want to share it —roughly 92% of people who consume mobile videos share them with other people!

Facebook’s algorithm loves it —in addition to shares, likes, and comments, the algorithm takes into account how much time people spend watching a video, which helps it show up in your followers’ feeds.

Viewers can be entertained, escape the mundane, and learn something —studies show the main reasons people watch videos are to be entertained (53%), to relax or escape (28%), or to learn something (21%).

Think about the last time you were scrolling through Facebook. Isn’t video content easier to consume than stopping to read a long-winded post? What catches your eye when you scroll through your feed? THAT is the magic.

What kind of video content should agents create?

The question then becomes … What type of video content should agents create? Here are a few (really great, super excellent) ideas to get you started:

Great Idea #1: Market Update Videos

We recently wrote a blog on how to create a market update video in 15-minutes or less. This is a great way to quickly and easily create useful and educational video content with the information you already know … How the market is doing!

PRO TIP: This doesn’t need to be a Spielberg-length video. The sweet spot for Facebook videos is between 60 and 90 seconds. So make it short, quick and to the point.

Great Idea #2: Vendor Interview Videos

As an agent, you work with SO. MANY. VENDORS. Why not utilize their expertise to do a short interview video?

Perhaps you ask a local mortgage broker to chat FHA loans for 90 seconds. Maybe you meet the local inspector at an upcoming inspection for 5 quick tips/things to look for when buying a home. (Be sure to ask the homeowner for permission to shoot video at their property.) Do you have connections with a home staging company? Even neighborhood folks like restaurant owners, the YMCA staff, etc. would make great interviews.

The bonus? When you share this video on Facebook and mention their company, you’re exposing your video to THEIR audience, too! This equals a wider audience reach for your Facebook page.   

PRO TIP: Don’t want to do the interview on-site? Check out BeLive.tv – it allows you to go live on Facebook using a split screen. Think you + the vendor, live on Facebook!

Great Idea #3: Live Q&A Videos

Facebook recently tweaked their algorithm to rank LIVE videos higher than those that are not. They report that people spend 3x more time watching a Facebook video when it is live and comment 10x more on live videos than on regular videos. (Talk about ways to build your engagement on Facebook, wow!)

So, how about a live Q&A? Before you go live … send out a post asking for people to message you with their real estate questions. Simply answer the question while you’re live!

Want some basic instructions on how to go LIVE on Facebook? This article offers some great pointers.

PRO TIP: Live videos also work great for behind-the-scenes or “day in the life” type content. Don’t be afraid to try it out and show your audience what you’re up to!

Great Idea #4: Screen Share Videos

**The no makeup, no shave, pajama pants optional option!**

Let’s say you’re a little camera shy or simply don’t want to jump into the video deep end. You can simply share your computer screen to make a video. This is a great option if you want to review a Market Snapshot® neighborhood report, end of the month ‘sold’ stats, highlight a listing you have for sale, etc.

If you have a Mac (with Snow Leopard or newer), you can actually use QuickTime Player to record your screen. Here’s a great article with step-by-step instructions on how to do that.

If you have a PC, try Bandicam, ShowMore or, my personal favorite, Camtasia.

PRO TIP: Don’t forget to include a link to your neighborhood report landing page when you post the video. This will allow viewers to sign up for their own report! (And, you capture their email!)

Great Idea #5: Videos from Existing Content

**Another no makeup, no shave, pajama pants optional option!**

If you’re creating original blog content, your broker is creating content, or you just have some great lists in mind, i.e. 5 Easy DIY Home Improvements … you can quickly and easily turn that into a video with Lumen5. (This could also work great for market reports!)

The service skims through your article or list and picks the most important sentences (with a little help from you). You can then drag and drop stock images and video clips, or your own images, to create a custom “video blog” … and you never have to step in front of the camera.

Here’s an example of a neighborhood report video I threw together with Lumen5.

//tsablog.wpengine.com/wp-content/uploads/2017/12/Market-Update-Lumen-1.mp4

  PRO TIP: These short videos from Lumen are great for other social media platforms like Instagram and Twitter, too! Make sure to save the video in 1×1 square format.

Oh! [Don’t forget the captions]

Before we sign off … Don’t forget to include closed captions on your videos! A shocking 85% of videos are watched on Facebook without sound. (Another reason why the Lumen5 videos are a great option.) In fact, Facebook defaults to playing videos without sound … So, you want to be sure you’re getting your message across even without the volume on.

Tools like Rev.com make it easy and inexpensive to add captions to your videos, and both Facebook and YouTube also have integrated tools to help you. Want a more casual way? How about cue cards or flashcards that you hold and flip while filming? Be creative.

Dip your toes in the video waters

Don’t be afraid to get your toes wet! Dive in and start trying out some of these video options —we promise, no one’s sending it to Rotten Tomatoes.

In the meantime, we’d love to hear from you! What are some of the things you’d like to learn about Facebook? Share your questions our Facebook page, where we keep in touch with more than 35,000 agents from across the country!

  Catch up on the Facebook Reach series here:

This is part four of our series on how to get more attention to your Facebook page. Here are links to the other articles you may have missed:

Personal PROFILE or Business PAGE: What’s the right choice for real estate agents? (Did you know there’s a difference?)

Have you fallen off the social media bandwagon? 6 ways to dust off your Facebook account and get back in the game

Fewer eyeballs are seeing your Facebook posts: How agents can uncover their true reach

Video is the Emperor: 5 Video Options for Agents to Fuel Facebook Reach syndicated from http://ift.tt/2lmGCAv

[hollywoodjuliorivas]

Subscribe on iTunes! MIC LISTEN TO THE PODCAST: Author Eden Collinsworth talks about the fluid lines of morality today in her new book. Audio Player 00:0000:00 Supports K@W's Technology Content “It’s discouraging to think how many people are shocked by honesty and how few by deceit,” says a character in Noel Coward’s play, Blithe Spirit. The decline of morality is on public display more than ever. Technology lets the world see people everywhere behaving badly: Videos of fights in public quickly go viral, folks bicker and bully on social media, and many think nothing of posting nearly naked photos for the world to see. Former media executive and business consultant Eden Collinsworth explores the fluid lines of morality in her book, Behaving Badly: The New Morality in Politics, Sex, and Business. She spoke on the Knowledge@Wharton show, which airs on SiriusXM channel 111.   An edited transcript of the conversation follows. Knowledge@Wharton: What has changed significantly about morality that we’re going down the bad road more often than the good road? Eden Collinsworth: It might be helpful to define the words “morality” and “ethics” because they’re often thought to be one and the same. Morality is a personal set of beliefs, and you could say that it’s the core of who we are as individuals. Ethics is expressed in terms of the expectations and the sanctions that are defined and enforced by a certain culture and society. What’s completely confounding today is that the world has never been so interconnected, but what we forget is that the ethical positions or decisions or expectations occur within a given period of time in a certain cultural silo. That is why many of us are completely disconcerted by what we think is so obviously right and wrong when other people don’t believe that. Quite honestly, the book that I’ve written was the result of living in China for a period of time … and they are simply operating with a different set of moral values. The perspective is not one from a Judeo-Christian sense of right and wrong. They’re far more philosophical and don’t believe that there’s any one way of being right, and there are very few ways of being wrong. Something as fundamental as what you expect from a business contract becomes extremely vague and amorphous even after you’ve signed it because there’s a belief that it’s a continuation of a dialogue and not the culmination of one. This led me to contemplate whether my own values were at all germane or applicable any longer in America, as an American. I started to explore that question with a variety of other people in terms of the moral choices they’ve made. Some of them have upheld the moral status quo, others have been defiant. And I think a great deal has to do with the generational shift. I was brought up with a certain set of moral standards and values by parents who believed that it was almost a rule book. My son, who is in his late 20s, is the result of a generation whose ethics have been shaped largely by the technological advances that occurred in his lifetime. There are a lot of external factors, but yes, things are really very different and far more morally flexible. Knowledge@Wharton: The mindset of each generation is certainly different, but I would think morals would be something that would carry on through the generations. Collinsworth: After spending a year exploring this topic, I think that we’re not necessarily born with ethics or morality. I think that a great deal of it is acquired. Some part of it has to do with skills. One of the people I interviewed in the United Kingdom is this brilliant neuroscientist. … She has underscored the fact that your brain is constantly evolving. The frontal lobes, which are the part of the brain that puts things in perspective and allows you to be empathetic, are constantly evolving. “We’re not necessarily born with ethics or morality. I think that a great deal of it is acquired.” But it is less likely to evolve and develop those skills if you are in front of a screen. In other words, those skills come into play when you have a face-to-face interaction with someone. You can observe facial gestures. You can hear the intonation of a voice. You’re more likely to behave moderately in that exchange, unless it’s a just a knock-down, drag-out fight. Now, the average time spent in front of a screen is nine hours. My son grew up with a computer, but he did not grow up with social media. Even in his late 20s, he is different from somebody in their early 20s who had grown up curating their Facebook page, working Instagram and Twitter. That’s a demarcation that’s fairly obvious, and that has to do with technological changes that are not going to retreat. In other words, this is the deal. SPONSORED CONTENT: Knowledge@Wharton: What we’re seeing politically in this country and around the world does challenge the idea that morals and politics can work together. Collinsworth: I would agree. But I think, like anything, it comes from the top. The fact remains that in America there is a president who has no qualms about, dare I say, lying. The word “lie” conveys not only a factual judgment but also a moral one. I come from a media background, so what is the obligation of a free press? I’ve also lived in countries where there is not a free press, China specifically. I am incredibly grateful as an American for a free press, which I believe holds [the excesses of] democracy in check. But what is the obligation? Is it to trust the public’s judgment? Or is it to present judgment to them? As far as I’m concerned, a lie is a lie is a lie. And we normalize it by not calling him out. But we also are living in a society now that is far more comfortable believing something [just] because it’s the opposite of what somebody else believes. I’m afraid we’re going to have to do a little more heavy lifting, and I don’t know whether Americans have the appetite for that. Knowledge@Wharton: It’s almost an expectation that you’re going to have lies coming at you, whereas 30 or 40 years ago there was an assumption of truth coming your way. Collinsworth: That’s true. But my truth might be different than yours because I’m entrenched in certain beliefs. This is what I assumed was a political trend, and I must say that I’m incredibly relieved to see what’s happened in France. Not because I necessarily agree with the policies, but Emmanuel Macron, the new president, has come out of nowhere in a little over a year and he has now won a majority in Parliament. Fifty percent of the parliamentarians have not had any experience in politics. He is completely determined to build a populous movement from the center rather than the extremes. I’m hoping that is a very positive sign of what might come and what might be embraced not only in America but also the U.K. and other countries that have become so polarized. I mean, you can’t open your mouth without being accused of any number of things, and it’s far more emotional than it is rational. “My truth might be different than yours because I’m entrenched in certain beliefs.” Knowledge@Wharton: You also take some time in the book to look at Hollywood as well, specifically the Kardashians. Collinsworth: Yeah, that’s pretty weird. But you know what, I’m not of that generation. What one has to remember is that these are extremely shrewd business decisions [made by the Kardashian family]. Kim Kardashian is memorializing in every conceivable sense — on Instagram, Twitter, Facebook, newsletters, traditional media — the most mundane aspects of her life on a day-to-day basis. But she’s charging for it. In a larger sense, we should remember that just a few tech companies [control our digital life]. You think of the internet as this rather ephemeral, atmospheric opportunity to create communities and outreach and gather information, and it is all of those things. But it’s important to remember that it’s also owned by a few extremely lucrative tech companies. These are businesses. These are publicly owned companies, and their first and foremost obligation is the return on investment. Now they’re being held to account on some degree, and they finally have admitted that they are more than simply content providers, so they should become responsible to a degree for patrolling or curtailing some content that’s very incendiary. But the point is that all of these are money-making ventures. Knowledge@Wharton: The world of Kim Kardashian revolves around a lot of social media. I want to get your thoughts on what social media means to this discussion of morality. Collinsworth: If you look at it just from a logistical perspective and focus in on something like Twitter — and this loops back to the issue of one’s ability to interact with people — Twitter basically has reduced communication to so many characters, so there’s no room for any subtlety. But more to the point, it’s very direct. What you see on Twitter, but also on Facebook, is often an angry response that ratchets up very quickly. Part of this overall concern about what is happening is there is a diminution or lesser opportunity to build the skill set of how to deal with people. We are social animals, so something as simple as communicating has now become fraught with not only our polarized ideas, policies and politics, but also it is exacerbated by the way we communicate. I read someplace that within a relatively short period of time, in less than five years, most people will be using their phones not to make phone calls but for text messages and internet connection. Even with the phone now, you’d just as soon text rather than actually hear somebody’s voice. It just is becoming a more stilted way of dealing with other people. I don’t think that it’s going to change. I think that’s the trend, so I think we have to learn to live with it and perhaps put it in perspective. Knowledge@Wharton: You also get into the military a little bit. You had a conversation with a major general from the Air Force about elements they have to deal with regarding morality. Collinsworth: Yes, that was really very interesting for me and quite compelling. I spoke to Gen. Michael “Buzz” Moseley, who under two presidents was chief of staff of the Air Force. We spoke about drone warfare because it falls very quickly into two ethical camps. One feels that it’s immoral and unethical to kill because it has to do with the ease by which you kill and the fact that you’re basically killing somebody from a bunker outside of Las Vegas or something. You follow this person around. There’s this rather weird intimacy where you’re tracking this person, getting to know their daily habits in order to isolate a moment where you can murder them, in effect. The other side of the argument is that it is a more moral way of dealing with warfare. Gen. Moseley reminded me of the purpose of war, and that is why he feels very strongly that there’s nothing casual about making the decision to put boots on the ground or move into a military posture. He told me very directly that the purpose of war is to kill people and destroy property. “When do you begin to forfeit your morals?” He felt that technology finally has allowed warfare, most especially from the air, to become more moral because even though admittedly there is collateral damage, there is far less collateral damage when you’re focused on an individual rather than whatever the alternative is. Obviously, there’s been a long history of warfare from the air, including carpet bombing and so on, so it was interesting to hear that perspective. These are issues one grapples with especially now. The question I have, which is unanswered by the way, is when do you begin to forfeit your own moral values — whether you call them Western values — and acknowledge that the enemy you’re fighting doesn’t share your values? I’ve lived in London for the last several years, and the last two months have been fairly gruesome [due to several terrorist attacks]. It’s a situation where the goal [of the attacker] is to kill as many innocent civilians as possible, usually in a vulnerable situation, often women and children. So when do you begin to forfeit your morals [as a result]? Fortunately, I have not seen that happen. There are hate crimes on the rise but what I do see, not surprisingly, is the trend towards a willingness to forfeit civil liberties for security. Now in the U.K. and possibly elsewhere, the government will take a more aggressive position and attitude towards monitoring your personal communication online and on phones. … I think the government is just at its wit’s end. It’s been very stalwart. But its threshold of tolerance has really diminished considerably. Knowledge@Wharton: You also talk towards the end of the book about birth and the moral questions surrounding it. Collinsworth: Everything is relative. Here in the U.K., it is against the law to deliberately choose a gender. That’s where they draw the line. However, a three-person pregnancy, [or making babies using DNA from three people], is legal. That is illegal in America, but what is legal in America is choosing a gender. Those people in the U.K. who can afford it fly to a doctor in Chicago, and he will perform that procedure. In China, it’s against the law for a single woman to freeze her eggs. Women in China who could afford it fly to California and do just that. A lot of it has to do with, whether right or wrong, your financial wherewithal. But it’s difficult to know where the line is drawn. I don’t want to get personal, but you volunteered that you support a certain procedure [IVF]. Would you then support the choice of a gender? It’s very, very personal. … The one thing that became extremely apparent to me is that [whatever issue we discuss like] reproductive rights, warfare, or others, technology will continue to hurl ahead as we argue both sides of the equation.

[anavoliselenu]

Hiched chapter 14

I head into the kitchen and start pulling ingredients out of the fridge to make dinner. I don’t know how to make many dishes, but there are still a few Mum taught me that I remember.

Now that I’m in the kitchen, with the soft sizzle of the sauté pan to keep me company, my deception doesn’t seem quite the earth-shattering catastrophe I thought it was going to be. I’m not a coward, not really lying. I’m just being thoughtful—taking care to choose the right moment to bring up a sensitive topic.

I work efficiently, chopping and dicing as I wait for my wife to get home from work. It all feels so normal, so utterly mundane.

My phone chimes, and I see there’s a new text from Selena.

Selena: I’m on my way home. Everything still on plan for tonight? Because we’re totally going to fuck. Right, Mr. Tate?

Reading her dirty words sends a little thrill racing through me. With my heart kicking up speed, I reply.

Justin: Absolutely. I’m down if you are.

Selena: It’s time to put up or shut up. Time to get with the program. And from what I can tell, it’s a big program. ;)

Justin: See you soon, wifey.

I chuckle and set the phone aside to finish dinner.

What the hell was I freaking out about?

This is going to be fun.

Chapter Ten

Selena

The smell of fish, lemon, and fresh green herbs greets me when I come home. Stepping into the apartment, I inhale deeply and my stomach growls. I quickly take off my work flats so I can check out the kitchen.

I walk in just in time to see Justin bending over to pull a pan of roasted salmon filet and asparagus out of the oven. When he looks over his shoulder at the sound of my footsteps, I try to pretend that I was staring at the food and not his ass.

“Hey, Snowflake, great timing.”

“That looks amazing.” I swear I just mean the dinner when I say that. “I didn’t know you could cook.”

With a chuckle, Justin sets the full pan on the counter and turns to pull plates from the cupboard. “Wait until you taste it before you get too excited. I learned how to make baked fish from Mum, and the vegetables and rice from the Internet.” He points at a glass dish full of steaming pilaf that I hadn’t noticed before.

“Well, it looks good,” I chirp, then immediately remember I already said that. Goddammit. I might be freaking out a tiny little bit. I want this, I really do . . . but it’s still nerve-racking.

And my butterflies only get worse when Justin glances at me with a catlike half smile, full of sinful promise. “I thought we should ease into things before . . .” He lets his words trail off.

My mind jumps ahead to where he’ll be “easing into” later tonight. My stomach jumps with it, and almost without realizing, I wet my lips. Then I yank my eyes away from his.

“I, um, I guess I’ll get the drinks,” I stammer, sweeping past him with more bustle than strictly necessary.

I find a bottle of chardonnay chilling in the fridge, pour two glasses full, and get the silverware while Justin plates the food. Once the table is set, we take our first bites . . . and a quiet moan of pleasure escapes me.

Our dinner is just as delicious as it looked and smelled. The salmon filets and asparagus are fresh, fork-tender, and lightly seasoned with salt, pepper, and olive oil. The lemon-herb rice perfectly rounds out the meal with its fragrant fluffiness.

“I take it I’ve earned your seal of approval,” Justin teases. “I hope I can hear that sound again later tonight.”

I flush slightly, but I’m in too good a mood to tell him to shut up. Teasing him back, however, is something I can manage. “What was with all your false modesty earlier? ‘Oh, it might suck, just bear with me . . .’”

He laughs. “I never said it like that. For your information, I do like to cook—I just don’t usually take the time. And I haven’t mastered many recipes. A real man accepts his limitations.”

“Evidently a real man also talks in third person.” I grin at him. Then my tone sobers. “So, you’re still feeling okay? Not sick at all?”

What I’m really asking is are you ready for sex? Just without actually having to say that big S-word. And maybe I’m also apologizing for acting like a bitch earlier today, without actually having to say the other big S-word.

He pauses, then gives me a firm nod. “Never better. So I’m still on if you are.”

Did his smile slip a tiny bit, or am I just imagining things? I knock back a mouthful of wine to stop myself from overthinking. Tonight is for my body, not my mind. If he says he’s ready to go . . . I chase the butterflies in my stomach with another bite of rich salmon.

When our plates are empty, Justin suggests, “How about we have another glass of wine?”

So I guess we’re not jumping straight into bed. I’m torn between relief and impatience. “S-sure, that sounds nice,” I reply.

We refill our glasses and move to the living room. But when we sit down on the couch, Justin doesn’t touch his drink. He sets it on the coffee table—and rests his hand on mine. I look up to see his expression has turned predatory.

And just like that, everything changes. The atmosphere, already flirtatious before, darkens and thickens like the air before a thunderstorm.

“Did I ever tell you how hot you look in your office clothes?” he purrs. “Well, really, you look hot in everything . . . and I’m sure you’ll look even better in nothing at all.” He gives me a lustful smirk. “But we’ll get around to that soon enough. Anyway, as I was saying, those clothes are so prim and proper that seeing you at work always gives me . . . ideas.”

Fuck, that voice should be illegal. I swallow hard and put down my wineglass before I spill it all over the carpet.

“L-like what?”

“Like kneeling under your desk, my face between your legs, doing my best to distract you while you’re on an important phone call.” His finger traces over the back of my hand, following the path his tongue would take in his fantasy. “And then, when you make it through the whole call without blowing our cover, you get your reward. I pick you up and fuck you on your desk. Skirt rucked up around your hips, panties pulled aside, blouse open so I can feel your luscious tits pressed against my chest . . .”

I’m speechless. By how hot my face feels, I’m probably also red as a tomato.

Justin continues. “People say only women are attracted to power. That’s bullshit. Men are too . . . most of them are just scared of powerful women. But not me.” He tightens his grip on my hand and pulls it down to cup his huge, hard bulge, showing me how true his words are. “Rest assured, Snowflake, I’m not going to stop tonight. Not until you’re satisfied.”

My reply dissolves into a moan as he kisses me hard.

His hand cradles my head, his fingers tangled in my hair, gripping firmly, guiding me where he wants. Where we both want. His other hand caresses me, stroking a long line from my jaw down my neck and then back again. A slow, firm petting that’s meant to relax me, open me up to his touches. And it works. Soon I’m melting into him.

As if he can sense the exact moment I’m ready, his fingers drift down to undo my blouse. One button after the other slips free, the pace so leisurely I almost start to squirm. Not wanting him to break our kiss, even just a pause, even to undress me, I wriggle out of my blouse myself. I feel his mouth curve into a small, smug smile against my lips.

His touches transform from soothing into stimulating—teasing the sensitive spot just under my ear, tracing the dip of my spine all the way from my nape to the small of my back. My breath hitches in anticipation every time his fingers bump over the clasp of my bra, wondering if now is when he’ll undo it. But only when I arch against him does he finally move.

With a single deft movement of his fingers, my band goes slack. My cheeks flush hot and I suppress a tiny squeak of surprise. Jeez . . . I know he’s had a lot of practice with undressing women, but even I can’t take off my bra one-handed.

Justin pulls back to draw the straps down my shoulders, drinking in the sight of my breasts as they’re slowly revealed. I shiver, feeling his eyes on me like a physical caress. I’m still wearing my skirt and pantyhose, but Justin’s hungry gaze makes me feel so exposed. In a strangely good way, though—not vulnerable or weak. Like he’s seeing the real me, undisguised, and I’m the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen. The only woman in his world.

Almost worshipfully, he bends his head to kiss my nipple. I suck in my breath; even that light touch zips through me like a static shock. Encouraged, he mouths it again, wetter this time, his lips sliding over the stiffening nub, shooting sparks straight to my clit. I let out a soft, husky moan when he starts sucking and licking—then another when he cups my other breast in one large hand and pinches the nipple.

“W-wait, time out,” I gasp. “You’re still . . . shirt . . . not fair . . .” It’s damn near impossible to string together a sentence under this onslaught.

Smirking, Justin backs off. I take the opportunity to catch my breath while he pulls his shirt over his head and drops it on the floor next to mine.

“You want to take this to the bedroom?” he asks.

I nod emphatically, glad that he saved me the effort of saying it out loud. I want him so badly, my whole body is thrumming.

He takes my hand and leads me down the hall. He sits on the bed, with me standing between his knees, and leans forward to wrap his arms around my waist. As his hands work on unzipping my pencil skirt, his mouth resumes its assault on my breasts. I breathe hard, clutching at his shoulders to keep my balance.

At last the black twill pools on the floor and I step out of it, further into his embrace. Justin’s erection brushes my lower thigh. Feeling bold, I push my knee forward to rub against it, and I’m rewarded with a stifled groan. Then it’s my turn to groan when Justin cups my crotch firmly.

“Damn,” he growls, “you’ve soaked right through your panties, Snowflake. I could probably get you off right now, just like this.”

Suddenly I’m flipped onto my back on the bed, Justin looming over me. “But I won’t,” he continues. “Because we both know what tonight is about. Some good old-fashioned fucking.” One finger trails from my collarbone between my breasts, all the way down my body, leaving goosebumps in its wake. I bite my lip as his fingertip ghosts over my pussy lips through the damp fabric of my panties.

He grins like a wolf. “However, we do need to get you nice and wet first.”

And with that, before I can say anything, Justin pulls off my panties and dives in. A wild keening cry bursts from my throat. His tongue writhes against my swollen clit and I can barely catch my breath, let alone keep quiet. Jesus, the boy eats pussy like he’s dying of thirst. His long, thick finger pushes inside me and curls up and holy shit, do that again! My fingers tighten in his hair, shoving his face against my pussy until he probably can’t breathe, but I don’t care, I can’t stop, it’s too much and my muscles have locked all on their own.

His finger withdraws, only to return with reinforcements. Little desperate noises escape me as Justin licks my clit and scissors his index and middle fingers deep inside me. I’m actually trembling, and it’s not just from the overpowering sensation. I know why he’s putting so much effort into preparing me. I’ve seen his enormous cock before—and it’s been a long damn time since I’ve had anything at all inside me. So I’m going to need all the lubrication and stretching I can get.

A thrill runs down my spine, one part nervousness to ten parts excitement. My stomach clenches with anticipation. I’m so ready for this, for him, I feel like I’m on fire. Panting aloud, I quiver and clench around his fingers. Almost there, almost . . .

Until the son of a bitch pulls back. “Not yet,” he teases.

I almost give him a dirty look for stopping. But I know what’s next, and I want to come with him inside me. I nod at him in speechless eagerness as he quickly sheds his pants and boxers, then takes a condom from his nightstand drawer and rolls it on.

Wait, this picture seems wrong. I try to gather my lust-fogged thoughts. He had condoms all along—last night too? Then why did he stop when I mentioned them? And why did I have to go to the drugstore this morning?

But my thoughts dissolve as he starts easing his cock into me. My breath hitches; he’s so thick and it’s been such a long time, even the first inch stings a little.

“Wait,” I gasp, and he immediately freezes.

“You okay there?”

“Y-yeah,” I reply. “Keep going. Just . . . go slow.” No way in hell do I want him to stop now. I don’t care where the condoms came from, so long as we can just fuck already.

Bit by bit, he works his way inside me, pausing whenever I tense up. “Good girl. You’re doing so good,” he murmurs.

His voice is strained; I’m sure from holding himself back. He looks incredibly sexy poised over me, with his lips parted and those veins standing out in his tensed forearms.

Just when I feel like I can’t take any more, at last he bottoms out. I’m already damp with sweat. The feeling of fullness is breathtaking, a slightly burning stretch that balances on a knife edge between pleasure and pain.

He starts withdrawing again, then pushes back in, just as slowly as before. But I’m ready for the real thing now. I dig my heels into his lower back to urge him on.

His eyes light up. “Oh, that’s how it is?”

I moan in response, because forming actual words when he’s so deep inside me just isn’t possible.

“You’re ready to be fucked hard now?” He slowly pulls out, almost all the way—then snaps his hips forward.

My mouth falls open in a silent cry. He rocks back and slams in again and again, finally fucking me in earnest. Bliss crashes through me with every sharp thrust, each wave coming right on the heels of the last, keeping me afloat, drowned, overwhelmed. I’m dizzy with pleasure. It’s so intense I can’t think or breathe or do anything but whimper.

“Damn, baby, you feel amazing,” Justin groans. “I’ve wanted this for so long. I used to jerk off every night thinking about you . . . wanted to bury my cock in you, make you scream my name. You made me come so fucking hard.”

His voice is ragged with need. I feel a thrill at the idea that I’ve driven him so wild, made him lose all his control. Justin Tate, the man who can have any woman he wants, has waited years just for me.

He crushes our lips together, his tongue searching for me. The shift in position presses my legs up, and his pelvis grinds against my clit with every move. I moan desperately into his mouth. The waves of ecstasy surge higher and higher—

Until they crest and crash, my release pounding through me. “Justin!” I cry out as I quake apart in his arms.

“Fuck, I can feel you coming . . . so tight, so good, I’m—”

His husky voice collapses into a shapeless growl, a dark, primal sound of pure pleasure. He gives a few more hard thrusts, shuddering into me until his hips slow and finally still.

For a few minutes we just cling to each other, panting for breath, savoring the last aftershocks as we come down from our high. I’m not sure I could get up even if I wanted to. Now I understand what women mean when they talk about feeling the Earth move.

I suck in my breath when Justin eases himself out. He leans over me to throw the condom in the trash, then lies down beside me, his head propped up on his elbow to gaze down at me.

“So . . . what did you think?”

Oh, come on. After all that, he shouldn’t expect me to speak coherently, let alone leave a damn Yelp review.

“Good,” I mumble. That’s the best I can manage. But I guess that’s less embarrassing than eleven out of ten or I can’t feel my legs.

I feel his chuckle more than hear it. He reaches for my hand and laces our fingers together. Lifting my hand to his lips, he presses a gentle kiss to the back of it, then pulls to draw my arm over his body.

Held safe in his embrace, I lie limp, exhausted, bathed in a warm golden glow of satisfaction. I finally did it. I fucked Justin Tate, and it was one of the best ideas I’ve ever had. I knew sex was better than my past experiences—otherwise, people wouldn’t talk about it as much as they do—but I never imagined it could be this good. Even my teenage fantasies barely measure up.

I decide that my boring, painful fumbling with Brad didn’t count at all. Tonight was my real first time. A whole new world of pleasure has opened itself before me, and I intend to explore it to the fullest.

An enormous yawn overtakes me, interrupting my thoughts. Phew . . . right after I get some rest.

I wriggle closer to Justin and pillow my head on his bicep. Together, we drift off to sleep.

Chapter Eleven

Justin

Watching Selena put this cocky asshole in his place is exhilarating.

It’s our regular Friday morning executive planning meeting with the board chair, Selena’s father, Fred; my late father’s advisor, Prescott; and the department heads from marketing, finance, and HR. Selena just finished explaining her plan for the upcoming quarter. And the finance executive—a dinosaur named Peter who we should have fired last decade—made the fatal mistake of questioning her expertise a little too adamantly.

“Peter, I appreciate your passion on the topic.” Selena’s voice is sure and steady, much calmer than I would have been in her place. “But since Justin and I took over as co-CEOs, this company’s performance has steadily improved.”

Peter shifts in his chair with a noise that sounds too much like a scoff for my liking.

I frown at him. Hey, fuck you too, buddy.

I don’t know why it’s just now occurring to me, but the prejudices Selena has faced to take over her corner office and head of the conference table have surely been daunting. She’s young, she’s a woman, and she’s the former boss’s daughter—all things that small-minded men like Peter take to assume that she’s not qualified for her new role.

I want to throw in my own two cents about his behavior, but I don’t. Selena can handle herself, and I won’t imply otherwise by jumping to her rescue, especially not in front of all these company officers. She doesn’t need a man to save her, and it’s a quality I admire so much about her.

Without missing a beat, Selena finishes shutting down Peter as if she hadn’t heard his scoff. “If you’d like to discuss my plan further, you can join me in my office later and I’ll be happy to walk you through it . . . using small words, if it helps. However, I won’t let you derail this meeting any further. Now, does anyone have any more business, or are we adjourned?”

Peter’s mouth drops open. But he soon closes it again, defeated, and I suppress a grin.

When nobody else says a word, Selena rises to her feet. “Thank you all for your time this morning, and please have your department summaries to me by the end of the day.”

Everyone scatters until only Selena and I are standing in the conference room. “Are you okay?” I ask.

She inhales a deep sigh. “Of course.”

Even if she wasn’t okay, it’s in her DNA to put on a brave face and carry on. It makes me proud to know her, to work with her, and to be the man who gets to go home with her.

“Peter’s a cocksucker. Come on, let’s go get a tea.”

She smiles for the first time since the meeting began. “Sounds great.”

I lead Selena to my office, where my secretary was thoughtful enough to get me an electric kettle. A small glass-topped cart holds bottled water, a collection of different English bagged teas, and a couple of mugs.

When the water heats up, I pour Selena a cup and hand it to her. She looks at me hesitantly.

“What?” I ask.

“Do you mind if we close the door?”

“Not at all.” I walk across the office and shut the door, wondering what the privacy is for.

She sips her tea while I prepare my own cup, then sit down in the armchair next to hers. The late morning sunshine makes everything feel cheery, but I suspect there’s something on her mind. She twists the simple diamond and platinum wedding band on her finger.

“Tell me what’s on your mind, Snowflake,” I prompt her. Something serious is clearly brewing in there, and I suspect it has to do with last night.

We fucked like rabbits and slept naked in each other’s arms. Then this morning, we got ready for work and ate breakfast as usual, like none of it ever happened. I have no idea what’s going through her head, if she regrets it or what.

My dick definitely wants a repeat performance. Already I’ve started fantasizing about spending all weekend fucking her brains out. Hey, a man can hope, right? But I don’t know how she feels about our first time. And to be honest . . . I’m not totally sure how I feel either.

Part of me hoped the sex would be mediocre. That Selena’s cool, collected demeanor would spill over into the bedroom, and she’d be a lifeless lay. Oh, how wrong I was. She was responsive and oh-so-eager for me, matching me thrust for thrust, whimpering sexy mewling cries each time I hit deep inside her.

And when she came? She didn’t hold back, like some women do, afraid to be too loud, making sex into something shameful. No, Selena celebrated it. Crying out with her orgasm, panting my name, clawing my back. I followed her over the edge . . . and now I’m afraid I’d follow her anywhere.

Last night was almost too perfect. Better than any woman I’ve ever been with. And a deep, dark part of me already knows the reason why. She’s special; there’s something between us that I’ve never had before. Even though I’ve always wanted Selena, always felt strongly about her, it’s jarring to admit just how much she means to me. How hard she makes my heart pound, how far I will go for her . . .

Apparently not enough to man up and tell her about the contract. My stomach tightens.

Selena sets her mug on the glass table in front of us and crosses her legs. She’s in a sexy figure-hugging white dress with a tailored black blazer over the top. A chunky turquoise necklace is the only bright pop of color in her outfit, but it’s exactly enough. The woman knows how to present herself. Remembering my thoughts from the meeting earlier, I wonder how much time she spends every morning, finding the perfect balance between feeling feminine and being taken seriously as a professional.

“I, um . . .” She pauses, looking down at her red-lacquered fingernails.

“Tell me.” I lean closer.

“Last night was . . .” She trails off again, wringing her hands in her lap. “It was like a bucket list thing. Something to check off my list—no-strings sex with Justin Tate. I thought it’d be fun, and I psyched myself up to just do it.”

“And now that we’ve done it?” My heart starts to pound.

: 2;-w�OyQ�

[rashaituckerunit6]

Zine Evaluation

Before I started my zines I was required to look up what a ZINE is, collect a variety of visual zine examples and annotated why did I like it, what methods have been used in the design what it’s about, research into other graphic and illustrative styles, find at least 20 examples and annotate 3 in detail, why did I like it, what methods have been used in the design, what is it about, which style theme was I thinking  of using , find visual references and influences online that helped me develop a style and consistent aesthetic and annotate.

In all honesty, I first thought I was going to just stick to the theme “CUT-COPY-PASTE” but the more I started to create my zines the more I wanted to be creative and make my zines truly outstanding. In total, I covered three themes for my zines. I covered “CUT-COPY-PASTE”, Layered chaos and Sparton zen.  With my first zine that I created, I did not use the theme cut-copy-past. I ended up doing my own illustration and doing a sparton zen themed zine. I wanted the zine to be aggressive but peaceful at the same time, or dark / gritty and show enlightening hope. Because my zines involved around the artist Travis Scott, I thought it would be a good idea to portray his dark and gritty albums ( RODEO / DAYS BEFORE RODEO ) to his new bright up beat albums ( Birds In The Trap / ASTROWORLD ). With this idea in my head I thought it would be cool to illustrate a drawing of him with half of his face being blacked out with white sharp teeth. That would portray his old albums that were dark and gritty. On the other side of the face, It would still show sharp teeth with him smiling but with his face not being blacked out. This would portray his current album ASTROWORLD. He would still have the sharp teeth because In ASTROWORLD it still has slight dark themed meanings in some of the songs. I thought having a pink background would look cool as well and make the face pop out. In the beginning the split Travis Scott face had more detail in the creases of the mouth and chin but I wanted to make it more mundane. I ended up using the level tool and darkened one side while keeping the teeth bright and sharp. I wanted to use this as a front and back cover for the zines. The front would be the dark themed (Travis Scott) and the back would be the light themed (Travis Scott). I am happy about how my front and back cover looks but I think I feel like I could have added something more like a simple text.

The second page that I had created ended up being a mix of layered chaos and  CUT-COPY-PAST themed zine. I looked for images where Travis Is performing and going all out in performing. I got about three where he is live and looking intense. I wanted to use three to show his energy and craziness but also show that he is not just some crazy person. I got a pictured of him smiling to the fans as well. I used the magnetic lasso tool, magic wand tool, quick selection tool and move tool. This allowed me to take the images and cut out anything that I didn't want. I overlapped the images of Travis over each other and had the ASTROWORLD concert in the background. Because this page  specifically has to do with ASTROWORLD, I tried to make it not look super dark or gritty. Hence why the biggest picture out of all the Travis's is him smiling looking over all the other Travis's. The last thing that I added was a grainy effect. I wanted it to look a little like an advertisement for a magazine ( just a little ).  I thought it looked amazing and was not to complicated to create. It took time and patience to make sure I cut out each of the Travis Scott pictures. I have no regrets as to how this page came out for the zine. It was fairly easy compared to the other pages that I had to create.

Moving on to the third page for the zine, It was now time to create A RODEO themed page. In the album rodeo, there is a very significant and recognisable figure in the album. The doll of Travis Scott is heavily shown for the cover of the album. I thought it would be a good idea to now base this page as a sparton zen themed page. I would then draw the doll with the names of the songs in the album around it. I wouldn't draw to much detail nor add colour. Why not add colour? I thought it looked better and would stand out more if it didn't have any colour. I kept that sketchy draft look of the doll by not erasing to much of the outline of the doll. Mainly used the brush tool and changed the hardness and texture of the brush to a more flow look. I added a grainy texture to it all to make it look even more cooler. If I had not added the grain, I feel like it would been to plain. I added the parent advisory explicit content box to make it look like an actual vinyl cover, or cd cover. I love this page because of its simplicity.  I am indeed happy with this page. Because it is rodeo and sparton zen themed, I wanted to have the doll staring at you to indeed portray it as creepy but at the same time peaceful. Once again, I was trying to have all my ASTROWORLD themed pages not as dark and grimy as the RODEO themed pages.

The fourth page that I had was pretty fun to make. I was on face time with my friend in my country, who listens to Travis Scott as well. We were talking about cool ideas and interesting things that a photographer could see at a Travis Scott concert. He started to talk about mosh pits and I instantly thought about what others don't see unless they down and dirty in the mosh pits. I decided once again to do a sparton zen theme page which would show aggressiveness but peaceful vibes. A person can indeed get a bloody nose and bruises on their eye in the mosh pit but they could also be enjoying themselves and have the adrenalin so they could possibly not even feel the bruises that they have. All true Travis Scott ragers know that If you go to a Travis Scott conert, there are no bystander's. You best be jumping and moving like there aint no tomorrow. I decided to illustrate a person who is at an ASTROWORLD concert a little bloody and bruised from being in a mosh pit but having a great time. This was very fun for me because I was able to draw a character from my imagination. Because I love drawing characters and in a manga style, I decided why not add a little manga inspired illustration to the page. I ended up with a character who had brown hair and wearing one of his merch t shirts. I got the ear piercing an nose piercing inspiration from myself. When I had initially finished it, I didn't like how the character looked unnatural and unrealistic. I added a grainy effect to it and also made his hair transparent a little bit and flow with the background lights and strobes. It shocked me as to how it looked way better than just him having brown hair looking at the photographer. Because it is sparton zen, I did show that it could be dark and gritty with the blood and bruises but I also wanted to show he is not angry and is actually enjoying himself. He is smiling. The main tools I used to illustrate this page was the brush tool, magic wand tool and quick selection tool. I also played around with the curves to change the darkness of his hair and transparency.  I am extremely happy with what It looks like. I didn't expect it too turn out as good as it looks. I originally didn't like that  he stood out that much because he is a manga inspired illustration but I think that when people draw non realistic drawings into realistic photos it looks eye catching. I had to fiddle around with the transparency and blending mode to get the proper colours set for his hair skin and t shirt. With the drawing tablet I have at home, it allowed m to draw it better than a mouse. But because it is a very tiny and cheap one, its not easy drawing like how I do on paper. I am currently saving money for one that the college provides or better.

For this page, it has to be by far my favourite out of all of the pages for the zine. I personally like Travis Scotts old albums where his music was dark, grimy and gritty. Because this next page had to be RODEO themed I decided again to pick sparton zen. I also did a little bit of layered chaos for this page. This pages illustration was way harder to draw than the previous page. The previous pages illustration had slight bruises and blood but because this person went to a Travis Scott concert  where mainly rodeo and days before rodeo songs where playing, the moshpit was a lot more aggressive with day one OG Travis Scott fans. I had to step out of my cum fort zone and draw a different perspective of a person lying on the floor chin up and thumbs up looking ok.  I am terrible at for shortening so it was difficult drawing and SHADING the hand. I find shading hard but I tried best. Another thing is that I am very unused to drawing on a drawing pad compared to a good old pen and paper. The main reason why I ended up drawing on my pad Is because I didn't have enough time to copy and render anything where I could colour it in the computer. I did enjoy drawing the character though. In the page it shows the illustrated character ( wearing Travis Scott RODEO merch t shirt ) lying down on the floor with a bloody nose, swollen eye, bloody lip and dazed but HAPPY. You have other people around him enjoying the the party. This specific page took me a good set of hours to create. In total it took me about 8 hours straight no break to finish. The main tools that I used as the brush tool to draw the character, quick selection and magic wand tool to cut out the images that I would layer on top of each other. I also thought it would look sick as either an album cover, vinyl cover or CD, so once again I added the Parental Advisory image. I used once again a grainy layer over everything to make it even more grimy and dark. I honestly love this page a lot because I am proud as to how I am being aware of the importance of layers. Separating and creating new layers for each and every important thing. This shows that I can step out of my comfort zone and illustrate things I wouldn't usually. So yes I am extremely hay with what I created for this page. Love it!

With the 5th page coming along , I wanted to create something pretty eye catching and tripy to look at. Because this page had to be ASTROWORLD themed, I thought it would be cool to implament a songs meaning. One of the songs of the album is STARGAZING. I thought it would be cool to have a galaxy looking page with the golden Travis Scott head fading towards the person. At the very end I made the Travis Scott Head pretty visible but bright. I also made sure there was a alaxy with sparkling stars and distant plants. I ended up putting the same text tat you get on the back of a t shirt if you get on  of his merch T shirts. I decided to put it directly in the middle because It grabs the viewers attention. The eyes might wonder all around the page to see and view everything but in the end the main thing that will immediately grab their attention is the test “ WISH YOU WERE HERE”. I  kept the text bright and white. In order to create such A cool page for my zine I had to duplicate the head, make them transparent at a certain limit and make them smaller as they move towards the back ( top of the page ). I left one of the heads not as transparent as the others and changed the blending mode. I also used the quick selection tool, magic wand tool and the magnetic lasso tool. This allowed me to cut out the golden Travis Scott head. The zine theme that I had chosen was layered chaos. Each head was being layered on repeat. I thought that this zine page was unique and outstanding like the others as well. It was simple but eye catching. I honestly do not really have any regrets or thoughts of changes to it. I didn't want to add a whole lot to it and wanted to keep it like it is.

Coming to the last page of the zine, It had to be Rodeo themed. If you look closely you can notice a pattern. Rodeo themes page, astro themed page, rodeo … astro... etc. I decided to make the last page not only rodeo themed but also layerd chaos. I feel like the picture of Travis Screaming or galoping, what ever you want to call it , its a good representation of layers chaos. Truthfully when I finished this page, I thought it was a good way to end it. It shows a bunch of crazy, chaotic Travis Scott raging off into the Texas night. I put the text La Flame there in bright red letters because it is another name fans call him. Its red to implement ( flame/fire ) as well. I didn't want to add to much texts or random objects in it. I decided to put the main Travis Scott horse slightly away from the others to represent leadership. It looks like its Travis leading his loyal fans into the night to rage and party to the end. There is no size or gender that Travis will deny to follow him into the night. Creating, I used the magic wand tool, quick selection tool and move tool. This allowed me to cut out Travis and duplicate him. With the colours that you see that fade into the night, I made sure it all faded smoothly and pretty by messing around with the blending mode. I kept the parental advisory explicit content icon because once again it look kind of like a vinyl or cd cover. Because Travis Scott is from HOUSTEN TEXAS and names his album RODEO I thought it would be pretty smart to implement that into a zine page. In Texas the first thing that comes to my mind is cowboy hats, horses, bulls, cactus etc.

Overall, I think that my zine looks eye catching. It inst a bunch of flashy pictures on the front cover. Its got a simple face in the front which would possibly encourage others to open it and see what its about. I am profoundly happy as to how it came out. I was nervous because I originally created my zines as an A4 document but I was later able to change it. With my zines, it leaves the person not knowing if every single page will look the exact same. For example, If I had a zine about fruits. You could possibly assume that each page would have an image of a fruit. For me its different. The person would flip the page and see Travis Scott but automatically assume that it will be photos of just him page after page. As they flip though the pages they would see that it is Travis Scott inspiration illustrations and graphic designs. So YES, I do think that I have visual consistency. When the person flips to the next page its not something that they should possibly expect. With my zine, It actually ended up better than what I wanted to achieve portray. I am very proud of what I have created.