#and i have a whole system to pick wildcards

[wield-the-mighty-pen]

To cope with my writer’s block, I've decided that I want to do some drabbles!

To make this fun for me, I decided to do 'playlist prompt' drabbles. So, if you'd like, please send me a lovesquare pairing and a number between 1 and 144 and hopefully I'll write a drabble based on the corresponding song in my playlist to that number

My inbox is open, so please feel free to send requests!

[demigodsanswer]

21

WILDCARD! Dealer's choice :)

Annabeth had a complex color coding system that involved several different sheets of sticky notes. They were different sizes and colors, with pens to match. Percy had to assume it was easier for her to look for colors than trying to read her own handwriting and spelling all the time. All of her letters ended up squished together, and the heights were all the same. Even on a good day, Percy couldn't tell the difference between her lower case n and h.

Percy was doing his best to stay focused in the NRU library study room. But Annabeth was prettiest when she was concentrating. Some kind of Athena gene, he assumed. He wondered if he looked best underwater. He should ask her.

"Can I borrow a post-it?" he whispered, trying not to distract her. She handed him a sheet of gray and blue tabs (where did she get gray tabs?) without a word, and without lifting her eyes from the book. I was something by Marcus Aurelius in Latin. He could tell by the look on her face that it didn't come nearly as naturally as the Greek. She just needed to finish her Latin studies GE course, but Classics was Percy's whole major.

"You know, I can just do your homework for you," Percy offered, "if you want to do my Math homework?" He was stuck in a GE of his own. It was the most basic math class that would cover his degree requirements.

Annabeth looked up, but past him, thinking on his words.

"If we finish early, we can get Panda Express before it closes," Percy added, trying to tempt her. He didn't understand fractions in fifth grade or now. Annabeth did though. She had no issue with algebra or geometry, or any other kidn of fancy math she needed for Architecture. Percy didn't have any trouble with Latin. "Not like you need Marcus Aurelius to build a skyscraper," he added.

"Yeah," she said, pushing the book towards him and stealing his math notebook from him. "Just, don't mess up my system," she said. "The key is in the front cover." It was hand written key, so Percy did his best to follow what he understood.

"Aye aye," he said.

They finished half an hour ahead of scheduled and managed to pick up enough orange chicken to feed a small army.

"Thanks for you help today," Annabeth said, planting a kiss to Percy's cheek. They were eating on the couch like true Romans.

"Happy to," Percy said. "Thanks for finishing my fractions."

"I went ahead and did next week's assignments for you too. I figure if fractions are hard, you're really going to struggle with percentages."

"You are correct," he said. He went to kiss her on the cheek, returning the affection, but she turned her head to say something, and he caught her mouth instead.

"Omp -- hey!" Annabeth said with a smile. "First you steal my egg roll and now my kisses?"

"Happy accident, both of them," Percy said, leaning in to kiss her for real and on purpose this time.

"You owe me an egg roll," she said.

"Or I can do you Cicero translation?"

Annabeth considered it. "Fine, it's a deal."

[krshush]

I decided to pick back up on P3R finally, a little (read: with a 100% guide bc I know what kind of 🅿️ersona player I am)

And I'm thinking abt the description of Persona Igor gives you, and the in-game reasoning for the Protags being able to change Persona and getting access to more via their Bonds, social links as a depth of one's soul.

...I'm thinking abt it bc I'm thinking at WEWY, as always. Because WEWY's whole premise, indeed why the game is titled The World Ends with You, is that your world ends with your perspective and is smaller still when you don't open up, when you don't try and understand or even interact with other people, get to understand new things about you and your world from them.

I'm thinking about how I genuinely enjoy each Protagonist, being a protagonist of an RPG with some variations for choice, gets read differently in a variety of ways by players, and is reinforced by who he (you) spends time with in the Persona games giving you mechanical benefit specifically with the mechanics of essentially your soul's power. That the Fool's soul can shift shape further and further dependant on confidants--SORRY, social links.

It's not really anything, or at least like this feels like nothing to me to point out because it is the point of how they made the Persona mechanic, and I still kind of enjoy Classic Persona's choice of having some characters unable to use Persona from Arcana they're not compatable with, but then Classic Persona and modern Persona starting w/P3 are just built different, with what stories and mechanics they meant to bring to the table via the Persona system and who are Wildcards and things like that. Anyways

[shiftylinguini]

Helloooooo pal! 4 & 14 & and a wildcard of your choice PLS AND THANK YOUUUUU for the writer asks? (AGAIN WITH THE ALL CAPS?!) If those don't spark joy or you've answered them elsewhere, feel free to swap them out for anything you'd like!!

the joy! she sparks!! (thank youuuu xo)

4. How many WIPs do you have right now? 

Jesus. Asking to see my whole ass now hahahaha. 

I have so many, it's fucking embarassing. Some of them don't even titles, they are genuinely "Untitled Document" and then when i remember "oh yeah didn't I have a story where Louis Tomlinson was a sardine? What about that one where Draco Malfoy had to train a flea?" I have to just fucking word search in my GDrive and I hope I can find it. There is no system and there never will be. 

At the moment, there are about 6 I am actively working on/thinking about/making new words on and not just sighing about, and they are: 

HP:

Erised (obvs)

7 minutes in heaven fic that has 0 plot but lots of warm jumpers

8th year fic (plot pending, lol there is a theme here)

Stranger Things: 

Cat Eddie (the sheer self-indulgence, it's self care)

Obligatory post volume two hurt/comfort/healing/ who's canon? never met her fic

AOB trash (aka the garbage can i call home)

14. If you could see one of your fics adapted into a visual medium, such as comic or film, which fan fic would you pick? 

Oh shit!! That's so good, ummmm, I think i would want to see the ravens from Heartlines , or see harry's soulmonster from Midnight in the city of fucking long name . 

WILDCRAD!! (I spelt that wrong and I'm leaving it feels like a wildcrad thing to do (and anyone who has chatted with me knows that I am perpetually typing utter nonsense, so welcome to the club LOL).) 

2. Do you read/reread your own fics?

WIPS absolutely, millions of times, but posted fics? No, I don't, and I think I probably should? I see a lot of people do and for some reason once a fic is posted I'm like "see ya dickhead!!" but i'm sure it would be a validating experience to go back and experience them after a bit of separation from the actual writing process. I'm interested to know what others do here!

[elftwink]

i have now seen the new cinderella movie twice and it’s so weird. first of all it’s probably because i’d only ever heard about the movie via tiktoks making fun of it and not seen any ads but i didn’t know it was a jukebox musical and it took me like three songs to figure it out but like... all the song choices are so bizarre? most of them just barely apply to the scene so it feels more like an interruption than a natural progression. it also feels like they made 0 attempt to match singers up to a style that they’re used to and sound good in which is partly i think why the vocals are getting torn apart so bad.

i mean like. okay sorry this is going to be very self important ex theatre kid of me to say but if you listen to camila cabello in million to one (a song they WROTE!! for this movie!!![i think]) it sounds like she’s trying to belt using her head voice and so it sounds so strained and not in like an ‘overpowering emotion’ strained but like she can literally barely get the notes out. and like hey. why did you make her sing that then. why is it so bad when you wrote it for a person who already has a successful career singing for a musical that isn’t even live like you can edit the audio and process it and do several takes if one doesn’t sound the best.

and the reprise is so bad because it has all the same problems but it’s in that part of the plot right after the stepmother ruins her dress and before the fairy godmother arrives and she’s like crying and it’s very sad and then the energy of the scene completely changes for her to do another uplifting verse of million to one and it’s like WHY ARE YOU MAKING HER SING THIS LIKE THAT. and the lyrics are adding NOTHING!!! to the story!! it’s just the chorus so it’s nothing new and it feels almost unrelated to ella’s emotional state. and bc of that the only thing you can focus on is the vocals!! and how they’re very clearly not her best work!!

it feels like this movie was written by someone who has seen a musical but not really understood it at all. the songs come in abruptly, and it’s very poorly communicated when characters can hear each other. while they generally fit the vibe of the scene that’s... all they do. like in a musical the lyrics of the song are dialogue. they’re part of the story; if you remove them you leave holes in the story because major plot beats should be happening there. in cinderella (2021), songs are just kind of about the scenes, if that. the plot sort of happens around them, to the point where it’s sometimes annoying when they start singing bc it’s a 3 minute pause on anything you actually wanna see. this is the musical people are talking about when they’re telling you why they hate musicals and don’t find them believable.

ONE good section song wise was seven nation army which is annoying bc it’s prefaced by whatta man which.... has just an awful instrumental arrangement like stop leaving these singers out to dry. but like anyway this happens when the prince first comes to the ball and the various women come to try out to be princess sing whatta man and then they transition into a rendition of seven nation army by the prince which... in this context works! it comes off as melodrama from the prince and offers a different interpretation of the song that i think is actually really funny. it has personality, it fits with the story, which makes it so weird that most of the other songs do not. like i could put together a better track list for this movie i think.

and that all sucks because in between the songs, the movie is actually like... pretty good. like not great; it’s very... direct with its #girlpower plotline in a sort of tell-not-show way, so some lines of dialogue feel like the writers thought you might be too stupid to pick up on the fact that ella wants independence and [financial] freedom but misogyny is a major barrier in her way even though that’s the whole point. BUT the plot itself is actually a kind of fun twist on cinderella, if not 100% untrodden ground. the characters all have motivations and goals that make sense. the stepsisters and stepmother are great; i think sometimes cinderella retellings make the stepfamily very cartoonish and flat, but i think they feel like real people (i mean, a little silly, but that’s in keeping with the tone of the movie; and it means the stepsisters make for decent comic relief without ruining the tension between ella and the stepmother). most of the jokes landed! if there were 0 songs this would be a fairly decent family movie with a kind of wildcard cast. but instead it’s This. wow.

(also it’s really unclear whether the problem is interpersonal misogyny or systemic misogyny, and the movie seems to purposefully conflate the two. the prince points out that women are not allowed to run businesses, and refers to purchasing ella’s dress as doing his part to correct a flawed system. women have a prescribed role in royal courts that would require ella to give up her work. the stepmother’s entire motivation behind trying to get the [step]daughters to marry rich is that women only have social mobility through marriage to men; men who control their lives and can on a whim destroy them. but then also you simply just have to believe in yourself and not let anybody tell you what to think about yourself and it will all work out! like hello?? what are the laws in this kingdom. maybe i’m too leftist for this movie. i don’t know what i expected from an amazon original.)

disclaimer i’m not a singer or a musical expert and i don’t know what i’m fucking talking about i have no qualifications i was a drama kid over 5 years ago and that’s all. i just love to be a bitch. xoxo

anyway. 4/10.

[justasingaporegirl]

Thoughts on Languages in ATLA and LOK

Okay, so we know that for practical reasons everyone in the Avatar Universe spoke English (so that the audience can understand what is being said, and also because it would take too much time to invent a whole language system) but I have an Opinion on how languages might work since realistically the whole world is not going to speak just one language

disclaimer: I’ve not actually read the comics or the Kyoshi novels so just roll with me based on what is shown in the animated series itself

#1: Common Written Language

Throughout the show we see that all writing is done using Chinese characters. Written Chinese is a pictorial language meaning that there is no link between the written word of the language and the spoken aspect, so a person can become fluent in speaking the language and not know how to read/write, or vice versa. So in the world of Avatar there is a common pictorial written language, so everyone from any part of the world can understand what another person is writing if not what they are speaking. (How did this come about? I don’t know, maybe some Avatar generations before Aang decided “hey you know what will bring harmony to the world it’s a common written language” but you get my point)

#2: Lingua Franca

My idea is that each of the Four Nations speak a different language, but by Aang’s era a lingua franca has been established and that is the Fire Language. The Fire Nation had conquered pretty much the whole world at this point so it’s only reasonable to expect that they’d force the whole world to learn their language too. Fire Language is still commonly spoken during Korra’s time, sort of how English remains the lingua franca today even though the British Empire collapsed like 50 years ago.

#3: Everyone is bilingual

Or almost everyone. Expanding off the idea above, everyone would be taught Fire Language growing up, right? I see it being taught as a first language during Aang’s time (when the Fire Nation controls like 98% of the world) but by the time Korra comes around some schools are starting to offer it as a second language rather than the first. (also, schools during the Hundred Year War used Fire language as their mode of instruction 100%) Non-Fire kids would also learn their own native languages as a 'mother tongue’ language during the Hundred Year War, then as their first language (and the mode of instruction in schools) when peace is restored. I don’t see schools in the Fire Nation teaching other nation’s languages during the War except as a second language option taught at intermediate/advanced schooling level. (The students who take these courses are usually being groomed for positions in government or diplomacy) After the War, Fire Lord Zuko makes it mandatory that Fire Nation schools have to teach a second language as well as the customs and culture of said language. This continues up to Korra’s lifetime, so pretty much everyone in the Avatar universe can speak at least two languages.

#4: Dialects

Even though each nation has their own language, there’s bound to be some slang or dialects in different parts of each nation. The nobles of the Upper Ring in Ba Sing Se would speak much differently from the poorer residents in the Lower Ring. The differences in the dialects are not major enough that a person from the Upper Ring could not understand a person from the Lower Ring, but some expressions and vocabulary used might confuse both parties.

#5: The Water Tribes share a language

This one is a bit of a wildcard but hear me out. Before the War, the Northern and Southern Water Tribes were pretty close, right? Because they interacted with each other so often they spoke the exact same language, give or take some differences in vocabulary (think British English vs Australian/American English) But then because of the separation of the two Tribes during the War each side began to develop their own versions of the language so it becomes more like two different dialects. The differences are jarring to those not used to it, but if you listen VERY closely you would be able to get a general idea of what the other person is saying.

That’s also why I think Sokka made that comment about ‘doing an activity’ when he met Yue. The word Sokka used means ‘romantic date’ in the Southern Water Tribe but in the Northern dictionary it’s more like, ‘an activity’.

By the time Korra comes around the two tribes have been interacting again for quite a while so while the two tribes continue to speak their own distinct versions of the language, it’s not completely unintelligible to the other. (Again, think British vs American vs Australian English)

#6: Republic City’s linguistic smorgasbord

Pretty much everyone communicates in Fire Language since it’s the Lingua Franca, but over time elements from the other languages have slipped in to form Republic City’s own pidgin language. It’s very common to hear words or phrases in Earth Language thrown in the middle of Fire Language sentences (Earth because it’s the largest nation geographically and by population, so a significant number of the Republic City population would have Earth Kingdom roots.) You also have words from the Water Tribes thrown in as well, creating a unique mishmash of languages that somehow everyone in Republic City understands (basically it’s the Avatar version of Singlish).

(No one except for Avatar Aang actually knows the Air Language since it died with the Air Nation. Aang sometimes let slips slang terms or expressions from his native language, especially during Important Avatar Broadcasts so Republic City kinda picks up on that and it’s not uncommon for a person from Republic City to just. Say Air Language slang with a straight face. I’m thinking like President Raiko unironically saying the Air equivalent of “’sup dudes” during official meetings ‘cause that’s how Republic City speaks. Aang thinks it’s hilarious but also worries that no one will take the Air Nomads seriously if they knew what those slang terms actually meant.

#7: Zaofu 

Like Republic City, Zaofu has a similar mishmash of languages, except that instead of mixing languages spoken in the Four Nations it’s just a mix of every single dialect in the Earth Kingdom since most of the citizens are from or are descended from the Earth Kingdom.

Anyway those are just some general thoughts, let me know what you guys think! 

[masterweaverx]

I’m just going to do a quick breakdown of all the factions in Atlas right now before tommorrow’s episode, just so we’re all on the same page.

Salem’s Grimm Troupe

So this is an interesting one, because unlike the others there’s no chance of the nameless mooks splintering off and joining the other groups. Because they’re all Grimm. The only ones Salem needs to worry about are the ones that report very directly to her. Any one of them going rogue is a game changer, and she knows it, so she very carefully manipulates all of them. Oscar’s psyop is the biggest threat to her group’s cohesion. That said, the other groups could wreck her if they get their act together.

Ironwood’s Army

One of the big, big, BIG misconceptions literally everyone seems to have going into this is that Ironwood controls all of Atlas. That might be legally true, but in practice the only part he has direct control over is the military. Everyone else has been helping him up to this point because, well, he was legally in charge, and a lot of nonmilitary people are probably going to capitulate to orders from the army because the army has guns, but this battle is not going to be decided by gun warfare alone. There’s a lot of ground to cover, and the soldiers aren’t everyone. They’re not even the only combat-trained group on this floating rock.

Atlas Academy

I’ve mentioned this before, but it bears repeating: Atlas Students are not Atlas Soldiers. Not yet, anyway--they have to be sold on it, and the example of the Happy Huntresses show that’s not universal. They are, however, heroes in training, and they are literally right in the building that everyone is going to be fighting over. (Even if Salem burrows straight for the Vault she’s going to keep up the illusion.) Plus they’re teenagers, and there are very few creatures more stubborn than a teenager. Throw in that the General’s Backup Control Panel is within their grasp, and they just got told on worldwide broadcast that he’s not that hot... we’ve got the crazy well-meaning superheroes straight out of a post modern comic book, all they need is an experienced leader. Flynt doesn’t count, sadly, but he probably knows somebody who does.

The Criminal Element

Look we all hate them, alright? They sold Madame her shock collar, probably get their fingers greased by Jacques, racist, exploitive, all that jazz. But they’re also probably the ones who know the network of secret tunnels and have all the guns that the military doesn’t and people who know how to use them. And you can’t turn a profit without customers. I don’t think they’ll play a huge role, but I do think they could be a wildcard that swings a battle or two and that might be all that’s needed.

A Whole Ton Of Civilians

They don’t have combat training. They don’t have a plan. One of their leaders was just shot and the other is probably not looking to tick off Ironwood. But they do have literally everything else. Buildings, territory, resources, extra hands, technicians, this is the group that all the other factions are going to be fighting over if they have any tactical sense whatever. It helps that almost everyone wants them to live--even the ones that don’t care wouldn’t mind their help. Only Salem actively wants them dead, and even she doesn’t need them all dead, just dead enough.

The City Of Mantle

I’m grouping Fiona and Joanna in this one. And it’s in a rough spot, what with the broken walls and the heat down and the Grimm wandering in... but it’s also being ignored by the Big Players for the moment, and if somebody gives them resources they can band together and recover. It wouldn’t take too much, the revolution’s already in full swing, they’ve got the skill and the manpower and the intelligence all they’re lacking is somewhere to stand firm. Whoever reaches out and helps them up will probably shift the tide of battle.

Ace Ops’ Wild Ride

Winter and pals pick up team JYR and swing around to snag Penny from her impact crater. They are the MacGuffin Guardian Team and they know it. They can and will have a major impact on what literally everyone else does, just by how they choose to treat Penny. The big problem will be that none of them will agree on that choice, and there’s going to be a lot of back and forth. Which will actually shake out to be a good thing, overall, since everyone is expecting them to be loyal one hundred percent to Ironwood--and the little bit of chaos from whatever they decide will absolutely leave the factions scrambling.

Robyn And The RWBNs

Sure, one’s holed up in a cell and the other’s holed up in a mansion, but you remember what I said about the Atlas Academy needing experienced leaders? Well, there you have it, beacons of hope and tactics right there. And, hey, the Schnee mansion is the Schnee mansion. You know, the guys who may or may not own every building in Atlas? And who did have control of the heating grid? And the chute delivery system? That’s a control node that apparently everyone has forgotten, and it’s sitting right at Ruby’s fingertips. Or May’s. Or Whitley’s, even, if he wants to start a redemption arc.

All this, of course, before we factor in whether Amity’s going to do anything, or how people from other continents are going to get to Solitas, or any other Surprise Guest Stars that have been speculated about for a while.

[johnputignano]

Big Jim’s Big Secret (Short Story)

When Big Jim Anderson finally uttered his final breath, well, King’s Creek had lost a true legend. That son of a bitch was renowned for his ability to drink anybody under the bar. No shit. And when Big Jim started tossing back cold brew, there was no way of knowing whether you would get the friendly old man or the cocksucker who loved to tease. Regardless, it was all in good fun.

I swear to god, there had been this one occasion when these degenerate punk rockers rolling on through. Apparently, they had a show that night in the valley, their name was “The Shit Kickers” but they pulled into town and made a short pit stop off at Mitch’s Pub to wet their palate. Clarissa had been tending the bar when the Mohawk weirdo began making a ruckus.

These punk rockers just love to get under the skin of working-class folk in the Bible Belt, and so there he was, spouting off obscenities and blasphemy for shock value. The spectacle was nothing more than the run of the mill asinine, juvenile behavior.

Big Jim heard the whole thing but felt that this wast his battle. So he ignored the punkers the best he could, but throughout the night they continued to get louder, drunker and more obnoxious. Enough was enough.

“I’m going to ask you boys to bring it down a notch or I’m going to have to ask you to leave.” Clarissa spoke loud and clear so that there was no mistaking anything.

“Fuck you, redneck slut.” the one with four lips rings responded before pouring his beer all over the floor. “You better clean that up less you want a lawsuit.”

This made Big Jim get all crazy. That big fucker rose from his barstool, picked it up in a calloused mitt and began to bash one of those jokers in the back of the dome. The Punker went down like a sack of horse shit, I mean knocked out cold. Another pulled out a switchblade.

“Oh, so you want to play games.”

Big Jim retrieved his large sheathed blade. The sight of this menacing bastard was sufficient enough to make a Civil War veteran shit his knickers and piss all over himself. That fellow knew full well that he was fucked. Luckily so did Dennis Lee, who quietly got up and bolted shut the bar entrance, ominously flipping the sign around, letting patrons know that they were closed.

“Big Jim, carve this fucker up real nice.”

And he did, ramming that mean steel blade right into the city boy’s esophagus. He was deceased before he knew it. Big Jim then made his way over to the unconscious man, yanked his head up by his hair and slashed him ear to ear. That night Clarissa, Dennis, and Big Jim would haul those bodies to Robert Turner’s farm to get rid of them.

Yeah, Big Jim was no joke and when he passed from a heart attack, well it just brought every eye in town to tears. The funeral was held at his house. Understandably, the better part of the town showed up to pay their respect and all were in the bark yard where the service was being held. That is, except for Big Jim’s grandson Waylon. That’s because he had snuck off to the basement.

Big Jim had a heart, and he was an open book, more or less, that is except for his private room in the basement. This room is where he spent a considerable amount of time and when he was in the basement, the old man was not to be disturbed.

The mystery of that room captivated the young boy’s mind. What was in that room? All sorts of scenarios went through the kid’s head. Hell, at one time he thought that his grandpa had a space alien locked up in there. I’m serious, that’s how secretive he was about how he spent his time.

Waylon knew that the room was fastened by a simple padlock and luckily for him he knew just where to get a pair of bolt cutters, which he snuck over there and hid in the bushes close by. As he stood in front of that ominous door all sorts of shit went through Waylon’s twelve-year-old head but he knew that this was his only chance he’d get.

The bolt cutters worked like expected, but Waylon froze for a moment. What if something so awful was being imprisoned behind this door that his grandfather took it upon himself to shield his family from it? And what if, by opening this door, that evil were to escape and wreak havoc? There was no point of contemplating at this point. The lock was busted and his hand was already on the door knob.

Now, before we proceed any further with this story, there is something we should address about Big Jim. His wife was Bridgette and in her day she was hell on wheels. As Big Jim told the story, he fell in love one night way back when they were both in their early twenties. Brigette was a Tom Boy and boy did she love to fight men. I mean, she was ruthless, and she had a particular distaste for pedophiles and rapists. That year Frank Reed had been arrested for molesting a sixteen-year-old girl, but since we all know that the court system is a joke, he got off on a technicality. Now Brigette never would admit to it for obvious reasons, but it is presumed to be true that she went to Frank’s house one night in the summer and cut his dick off. Frank lived, but she took the dick with her and fed it to her dog. The police never could get an answer out of that man as to who done it but when Big Jim caught wind of what Brigette had done he knew that this was the woman for him.

Brigette saw Big Jim as a wildcard with a heart, and that appealed to her. So when he announced that he was going to have a secret space for himself many years ago, she asked no questions. She trusted her husband was doing nothing more than blowing off steam, probably drinking beers and tinkering with the model cars he was obsessed with making.

Despite all the young Waylon’s planning, he did not anticipate Brigette’s keen sense of awareness. So when she saw her son’s kid sneak back into the house, she knew damn well what he was about to do. For fuck’s sake, everyone in town knew about his secret room and we all wondered what was in it. Brigette didn’t care that her husband was dead, she intended to keep the promise she made to him years earlier, to never step foot in that room. She’d be damned if she was going to let some snot-nosed brat disrespect her deceased husband.

By the time she found an opportunity to slip away unnoticed, she took it. Once in the house she moved quickly to the basement but when she got there, it was too late. The door was open, and the boy had disrespected a dead man’s wishes.

“Now you really did it Waylon.”

He seemed unfazed by her voice. The boy wasn’t even startled by the unexpected company, he was too focused on what he saw. As Brigette descended the stairs her anger turned to curiosity. What was in that room to steal her grandson’s attention so much that he couldn’t even hear the ass whooping he was going to get when she told his father? When she saw the tears in his eyes her curiosity turned to concern.

“Waylon?” she called out. He turned his head toward her and she saw trauma. It was that same look Frank had on him when she sliced off his willy.

“Grandma, I’m sorry, but I had to know.”

“Well, you went on and opened it. So what’s in there that has you so upset?”

“I can’t tell you.”

“Boy, you better tell me.” Anger was returning, but when she got to the doorframe she too froze. “Holy shit.”

Big Jim’s secret room was a secret no more, and what the two of them saw was nothing short of disturbings. The room contained a shrine of sorts. Every inch of wall space was covered in Polaroid pictures, and in those pictures were children. In some pictures she could see parts of Big Jim which she identified by his chest tattoo, which was of a confederate flag. In all the pictures, the kids are naked, some crying. As horrifying as these were, they didn’t compare to the ones of her husband performing various sexual acts. Big Jim was a pedophile.

How does one recover from such revelations? She knew that Waylon couldn’t be trusted to keep his mouth shut and once word go out that she was married to a kid diddler, well, she couldn’t bear the embarrassment.

“Waylon. I want you to go back to the funeral. Say nothing.”

The poor kid was so shocked that he obeyed without so much as a whimper, making his way back like a soldier suffering from shell shock. Once alone Brigette dropped the touch act and began sobbing. Her entire life with Big Jim was a disgusting lie. She slept in the same bed with this filthy monster. There was no stopping this. Word was sure to spread but what she can do is make certain that nobody ever sees the contents of that room.

After getting back her composure, Brigette made her way to the garage where she retrieved two cans of gasoline. With a broken heart, she poured it all over that room. Every inch was dripping with gasoline. Once both cans were empty, she grabbed a box of matches from the kitchen. Without hesitation, she struck a match and tossed it into the room.

Brigette stood there, watching the room burn with all its contents until she no longer could stand the heat. As she made her way back to the funeral, the flames began to spread to the rest of the house.

[bigjimbigsecret]

Big Jim’s Big Secret

When Big Jim Anderson finally uttered his final breath, well, King’s Creek had lost a true legend. That son of a bitch was renowned for his ability to drink anybody under the bar. No shit. And when Big Jim started tossing back cold brew, there was no way of knowing whether you would get the friendly old man or the cocksucker who loved to tease. Regardless, it was all in good fun.

I swear to god, there had been this one occasion when these degenerate punk rockers rolling on through. Apparently, they had a show that night in the valley, their name was “The Shit Kickers” but they pulled into town and made a short pit stop off at Mitch’s Pub to wet their palate. Clarissa had been tending the bar when the Mohawk weirdo began making a ruckus.

These punk rockers just love to get under the skin of working-class folk in the Bible Belt, and so there he was, spouting off obscenities and blasphemy for shock value. The spectacle was nothing more than the run of the mill asinine, juvenile behavior.

Big Jim heard the whole thing but felt that this wast his battle. So he ignored the punkers the best he could, but throughout the night they continued to get louder, drunker and more obnoxious. Enough was enough.

“I’m going to ask you boys to bring it down a notch or I’m going to have to ask you to leave.” Clarissa spoke loud and clear so that there was no mistaking anything.

“Fuck you, redneck slut.” the one with four lips rings responded before pouring his beer all over the floor. “You better clean that up less you want a lawsuit.”

This made Big Jim get all crazy. That big fucker rose from his barstool, picked it up in a calloused mitt and began to bash one of those jokers in the back of the dome. The Punker went down like a sack of horse shit, I mean knocked out cold. Another pulled out a switchblade.

“Oh, so you want to play games.”

Big Jim retrieved his large sheathed blade. The sight of this menacing bastard was sufficient enough to make a Civil War veteran shit his knickers and piss all over himself. That fellow knew full well that he was fucked. Luckily so did Dennis Lee, who quietly got up and bolted shut the bar entrance, ominously flipping the sign around, letting patrons know that they were closed.

“Big Jim, carve this fucker up real nice.”

And he did, ramming that mean steel blade right into the city boy’s esophagus. He was deceased before he knew it. Big Jim then made his way over to the unconscious man, yanked his head up by his hair and slashed him ear to ear. That night Clarissa, Dennis, and Big Jim would haul those bodies to Robert Turner’s farm to get rid of them.

Yeah, Big Jim was no joke and when he passed from a heart attack, well it just brought every eye in town to tears. The funeral was held at his house. Understandably, the better part of the town showed up to pay their respect and all were in the bark yard where the service was being held. That is, except for Big Jim’s grandson Waylon. That’s because he had snuck off to the basement.

Big Jim had a heart, and he was an open book, more or less, that is except for his private room in the basement. This room is where he spent a considerable amount of time and when he was in the basement, the old man was not to be disturbed.

The mystery of that room captivated the young boy’s mind. What was in that room? All sorts of scenarios went through the kid’s head. Hell, at one time he thought that his grandpa had a space alien locked up in there. I’m serious, that’s how secretive he was about how he spent his time.

Waylon knew that the room was fastened by a simple padlock and luckily for him he knew just where to get a pair of bolt cutters, which he snuck over there and hid in the bushes close by. As he stood in front of that ominous door all sorts of shit went through Waylon’s twelve-year-old head but he knew that this was his only chance he’d get.

The bolt cutters worked like expected, but Waylon froze for a moment. What if something so awful was being imprisoned behind this door that his grandfather took it upon himself to shield his family from it? And what if, by opening this door, that evil were to escape and wreak havoc? There was no point of contemplating at this point. The lock was busted and his hand was already on the door knob.

Now, before we proceed any further with this story, there is something we should address about Big Jim. His wife was Bridgette and in her day she was hell on wheels. As Big Jim told the story, he fell in love one night way back when they were both in their early twenties. Brigette was a Tom Boy and boy did she love to fight men. I mean, she was ruthless, and she had a particular distaste for pedophiles and rapists. That year Frank Reed had been arrested for molesting a sixteen-year-old girl, but since we all know that the court system is a joke, he got off on a technicality. Now Brigette never would admit to it for obvious reasons, but it is presumed to be true that she went to Frank’s house one night in the summer and cut his dick off. Frank lived, but she took the dick with her and fed it to her dog. The police never could get an answer out of that man as to who done it but when Big Jim caught wind of what Brigette had done he knew that this was the woman for him.

Brigette saw Big Jim as a wildcard with a heart, and that appealed to her. So when he announced that he was going to have a secret space for himself many years ago, she asked no questions. She trusted her husband was doing nothing more than blowing off steam, probably drinking beers and tinkering with the model cars he was obsessed with making.

Despite all the young Waylon’s planning, he did not anticipate Brigette’s keen sense of awareness. So when she saw her son’s kid sneak back into the house, she knew damn well what he was about to do. For fuck’s sake, everyone in town knew about his secret room and we all wondered what was in it. Brigette didn’t care that her husband was dead, she intended to keep the promise she made to him years earlier, to never step foot in that room. She’d be damned if she was going to let some snot-nosed brat disrespect her deceased husband.

By the time she found an opportunity to slip away unnoticed, she took it. Once in the house she moved quickly to the basement but when she got there, it was too late. The door was open, and the boy had disrespected a dead man’s wishes.

“Now you really did it Waylon.”

He seemed unfazed by her voice. The boy wasn’t even startled by the unexpected company, he was too focused on what he saw. As Brigette descended the stairs her anger turned to curiosity. What was in that room to steal her grandson’s attention so much that he couldn’t even hear the ass whooping he was going to get when she told his father? When she saw the tears in his eyes her curiosity turned to concern.

“Waylon?” she called out. He turned his head toward her and she saw trauma. It was that same look Frank had on him when she sliced off his willy.

“Grandma, I’m sorry, but I had to know.”

“Well, you went on and opened it. So what’s in there that has you so upset?”

“I can’t tell you.”

“Boy, you better tell me.” Anger was returning, but when she got to the doorframe she too froze. “Holy shit.”

Big Jim’s secret room was a secret no more, and what the two of them saw was nothing short of disturbings. The room contained a shrine of sorts. Every inch of wall space was covered in Polaroid pictures, and in those pictures were children. In some pictures she could see parts of Big Jim which she identified by his chest tattoo, which was of a confederate flag. In all the pictures, the kids are naked, some crying. As horrifying as these were, they didn’t compare to the ones of her husband performing various sexual acts. Big Jim was a pedophile.

How does one recover from such revelations? She knew that Waylon couldn’t be trusted to keep his mouth shut and once word go out that she was married to a kid diddler, well, she couldn’t bear the embarrassment.

“Waylon. I want you to go back to the funeral. Say nothing.”

The poor kid was so shocked that he obeyed without so much as a whimper, making his way back like a soldier suffering from shell shock. Once alone Brigette dropped the touch act and began sobbing. Her entire life with Big Jim was a disgusting lie. She slept in the same bed with this filthy monster. There was no stopping this. Word was sure to spread but what she can do is make certain that nobody ever sees the contents of that room.

After getting back her composure, Brigette made her way to the garage where she retrieved two cans of gasoline. With a broken heart, she poured it all over that room. Every inch was dripping with gasoline. Once both cans were empty, she grabbed a box of matches from the kitchen. Without hesitation, she struck a match and tossed it into the room.

Brigette stood there, watching the room burn with all its contents until she no longer could stand the heat. As she made her way back to the funeral, the flames began to spread to the rest of the house.

[baronfulmen]

Motherfucking Bernie Bros

Don’t get me wrong, I like Sanders.  I’m rooting for him.  (In an ideal world I’m rooting for Warren, but that hasn’t seemed like a plausible outcome for quite a while.)  But the thing is, at this point the most likely outcome is Biden.  And I want to be really clear here: fuck that guy.  Fuck him, he’s awful, him getting the nomination is tragic, and YES YOU STILL HAVE TO VOTE FOR HIM YOU ABSOLUTE COCKSPIDER.

Already I’m seeing it from the hardcore Bernie Bros.  “Oh, yeah, vote blue no matter who, of course.  I get it.  ... Unless I don’t feel like it was fair.”

And when you talk to them it becomes clear pretty quickly that because they have decided Bernie is their lord and savior come down from on high to smite the wicked, they’re defining unfair “as any scenario in which my boy Bernie loses”.

This happened in 2016 too.  Bernie was losing to Clinton, losing in every way he could possibly lose.  Bernie Bros latched onto the superdelegates as unfair, even though it’s how this has always worked (more on that in a second) and when you pointed out that without superdelegates he was sill losing to her they would say “well, the DNC is out to get him but the people want him” and when you pointed out that nope, he also lost in terms of straight votes they went into conspiracy mode and said everything was rigged despite the fact that it clearly wasn’t.

Sometimes this was about genuine screw-ups, but ones that didn’t disproportionately impact Bernie or even hurt Clinton more and showed no sign of being malicious.

Sometimes, and this is where today’s situation is more relevant, it was about things working the way they were designed to work.  Listen, I get it.  The way the Democrats pick a candidate isn’t great.  But the time to change that is BETWEEN elections.  You don’t wait until your guy is losing and then insist the rules are unfair.  Those are the rules he agreed to when he started running.  That’s not unfair or cheating or rigged, that’s a system working as designed.  And yeah, it’s not going to favor Sanders but that’s because HE’S NOT A DEMOCRAT.

I don’t blame him for running as a Dem.  He had to.  There was no other route to victory because our system is dumb and we’re stuck with two parties.  But he’s not a Democrat, he hasn’t tried particularly hard to be friends with the Democratic Party, and since they get to have a say in who they name as their candidate OF COURSE that’s going to be harder for him.  THAT’S THE POINT.  They don’t want some wildcard that doesn’t represent the party as a whole running away with the election.

So, yeah, it’s probably going to be Biden.  And yeah, that sucks.  But no matter how big of a Bernie fan you are you don’t get to:

Pretend this was some totally unfair process rather than the exact thing he signed up for and would have gladly used if it had gone in his favor

Use that as an excuse to not vote, thereby endorsing the status quo AKA motherfucking Trump.

Grow up, learn to live with disappointment, and vote for that shitweasel Biden.

[oceanmastertrash]

the tides know our names- 16/?

Summary:   After losing the throne to his brother Orm is working with Arthur to try to help Atlantis move forward. A few months after this Elara, part of an ancient order of prescient Atlanteans known as Tidewatchers, has a vision of Orm’s death. Predicting and reading the future through the tides of fate has never been easy but Elara is in for the challenge of a lifetime working with her former king to save his life.

Part: 16/?

Word Count: 5,182

Warnings: none.

Read on Ao3

start from the beginning

Author’s Note: Alright this is the last chapter for today, this one is brand new! enjoy the binge my lovelies!

“Madren messaged you,” Orm clarified, equal parts apprehensive and intrigued.

“Yep,” Elara said. “And she wants to meet you.”

Orm stared back at Elara, completely unsure if that was a good or a bad thing.

-

According to Elara, Madren was currently running the Tidewatcher sanctuary in Guatemala. Orm would have preferred to just swim there but, also according to Elara, there were a couple obstacles to that plan. First and foremost the sanctuary was on the opposite coast of Central America than their current location in Belize. Secondly, given what Henrik had told them about the tracking method Black Manta and Dr. Shin were employing, it was in their best interest to stay on land for the time being.

Orm was apprehensive about leaving the shore entirely and fully immersing into life on the surface. The reality of tackling land travel was also something he had no experience with. Elara had some knowledge but she still had to use an internet cafe to nail down the details of their travel and acquired a cheap prepaid phone to better book their surface transportation.

She also changed out of her bloody garments so as to be less conspicuous. It did Orm better than he would like to admit to see her in her fresh clothes. Elara was not the sort to look fragile, wounded though she was, but it comforted him to see her look put back together in a sense. For her part, Elara took comfort in it, she still ached and smarted if she moved the wrong way but she felt less exposed without a literal gaping hole in her shirt.

Elara contemplated renting a car for their travels, as she did have some limited driving lessons but ultimately decided, given some of the weaving of the path, they’d be better off taking public transportation. It would be a long day and a meandering journey. Elara was certain that Orm would suffer quite a bit of frustration and annoyance from the surface dwellers but there was no way to avoid that at this point.

By now the sun was setting and they decided they would begin their journey in the morning. Elara found a motel for them. It was small and probably nowhere near the standards Orm was used to but it had two beds and he at least recognized their need for rest. Elara was exhausted and while her Atlantean healing and the meds from the clinic were helping with the pain of her injuries, she knew she needed some downtime to try to recuperate.

They stayed up a little while longer as Elara did her best to explain surface concepts like the bus system they’d be employing to get to Madren and the credit card she used for most of their purchases as well as her scant knowledge of the currencies she had. Orm thought it all more complicated than it should be but at her argument, conceded that Atlantis and all it’s kingdoms and politics would no doubt befuddle outsiders as well.

After their strenuous day, Elara fell asleep fairly quickly. Orm didn’t like the idea of them both sleeping at the same time surrounded by surface dwellers on all sides but Elara had insisted that the tides would wake her if anyone were to try anything and they should both rest while they can. Orm struggled with this idea. Letting his guard down was not anything that came easy to him, especially not considering they’d already been attacked that day by a surface dweller.

Ultimately though, fatigue won out and Orm fell asleep listening to the sound of Elara breathing. It wasn’t the most restful sleep by far but it was more than he’d expected. It was not particularly lengthy either, because before too long, they were woken by an annoying melody from the cell phone Elara had purchased. It was an alarm she’d set to ensure they would get up early enough to catch the bus. While such an alarm was useful, it was very irritating and Orm loathed it on principle.

They grabbed something to eat at a nearby cafe and then waited at the bus station. Elara had explained that the bus system they were using had many other stops on the way until it eventually stopped closer to the center of Guatemala where they would then catch a smaller bus for a short stint to the town closest to the Tidewatcher sanctuary. There weren’t as many people getting on the bus this early but Elara knew they would have a lot of contact with a lot of people by the time the day was over.

Elara had booked them on one of more luxury liners instead of what the locals referred to as ‘chicken busses’ which ran more locally and, well, had more livestock on board. Elara anticipated that they’d need to use them at some point but thought it best if they put it off for now; one thing at a time and all that.

The wait was short as those around them chatted in languages Orm didn’t understand. It was hard not to feel so very far from home in this moment. Perhaps Elara sensed this from the tides but she subtly shifted so her uninjured arm was pressed against his in a silent show of support. It was a small thing but it helped. If this had been a couple weeks ago he might have been perturbed by how well she could read him but then he supposed she wouldn’t be a very good tidewatcher if she wasn’t good at picking up things like that. She wouldn’t be able to keep them safe if she couldn’t sense something like a change in mood, that could mean everything in a surprise attack. And he had to note she’d never used this to manipulate him or use him, only to help them. He admired that about her.

He was glad to let Elara take charge in the small things like where they sat. If nothing else, he was glad that he didn’t have to reveal further how little he knew of these things though he suspected she knew anyway. They sat towards the back and not very close to any other passengers so they could talk a little freer as long as they spoke quietly. She sat with her bad side to the window. It was going to hurt all day anyway but at least this way she wouldn’t have to worry about him accidentally elbowing her tender side or scraping her arm. She was careful how she held her arm so as not to rub it the wrong way but the bandaging and the jacket she wore helped insulate it more against aggravation.

Once the bus was on its way they didn’t talk at first. While Orm acclimated to the feel of things on the road and amongst surface dwellers like this, Elara took the opportunity to get familiar with the flows of the tides for the bus and their route. As the whole bus had a hectic and chaotic atmosphere to it, she thought it best to get a feel for what patterns were normal for it so she could better spot what was irregular.

After some time had passed and nothing went wrong and no one bothered them, she could feel some of the edge had dissipated off of Orm. She figured now was a good time to try conversing with him to distract him. She’d also strategically let him take the aisle seat because she figured he’d feel more able to protect them that way even if she did not feel such actions would be necessary.

“So,” she began, turning to him, “what do you know about Madren?”

Orm resisted the urge to smirk, of course she would know he was curious about the old tidewatcher even if he hadn’t said anything. He wasn’t proud of it but the idea of meeting Madren intimidated him slightly. While he’d received reports from her during his reign, he’d never met her though he’d certainly heard stories from Vulko and the other Tidewatcher elders over the years. Combine that with all he’d heard from Elara since they’d come to the surface and Madren seemed a larger than life figure to Orm and one that left a profound impression. She was regarded by many as being exceedingly eccentric which Orm had always attributed to the fact that she’d spent several decades on the surface. She wasn’t the only Tidewatcher or Atlantean to maintain an outpost up above but she’d been topside longer than any other Atlantean he’d ever heard of.

She’d acclimated to her environment in unusual ways. When he’d been king, the tidewatcher council would regularly update him on reports from Madren. She could not only sense shifts of surface dweller politics through the tides but also witness it firsthand. She was an invaluable resource but a bit of a wildcard. He’d been content enough to let her stay up here as her intelligence was always timely. He could sense at times she disapproved of his war on the surface but she never interfered which suited him just fine. The same relations between Madren and the king of Atlantis had not always been the case when his father had been on the throne. It was not a subject Orvax had been inclined to speak of which had only served to make it a subject of curiosity for Orm.

“What can you tell me about Madren and my father?” he asked calmly.

Elara raised her eyebrows. That was not the question she had been expecting. “Well you clearly know something or else you wouldn’t ask. What have you heard?”

“Oh just the standard line Orvax circulated to the courts- that he banished her to the surface for her insubordination.” Orm answered with a wry grin, “and enough from Vulko to know that no one actually banished Madren.”

Elara shared a smug grin, “That he most certainly didn’t. Anyone who’s actually met Madren would know that she is not a woman to let anything but the tides tell her what to do. And even then she’ll argue and analyze it five ways to Sunday before consenting.”

“So what really happened?”

“I suppose the diplomatic answer would be that she resented the idea of being under his thumb and subject to his tempers and scrutiny,” Elara said after consideration.

“And the non-diplomatic answer?” he pressed.

“She was tired of his bullshit,” she said straight-face.

“Sounds like she taught you well on that count,” he replied slyly.

“That she did,” Elara agreed. “But the way she tells it, Orvax was a thousand times worse than you ever were. Madren was the best tidewatcher on the council and they both knew it. Madren wasn’t afraid to call him out on his ill-conceived schemes or throw the warnings of the tides in his face if things didn’t work out for Orvax. I don’t think he would have had problems if she was skilled and humble but she was abrasive and loud about it. He knew he couldn’t properly cut off contact with her because what results he saw and liked from the tides mostly came from her leads but he couldn’t abide her publicly contradicting and undermining him.”

“No,” Orm said quietly, “he certainly couldn’t.”

Elara could sense a bitterness and a history to that statement but also that it wasn’t something he was interested in exploring in depth at the moment so she moved on as nonchalantly as she could. “Madren’s no idiot and knew something had to give. Since the tides gave her no indication that Orvax was going to change and she knew she absolutely wasn’t going to, she decided she’d relocate as a sort of truce. Orvax wasn’t wild about her training others on the surface but ultimately agreed that it was preferable to her constantly embarrassing him down below.”

Orm found himself smiling. He enjoyed the way Elara told stories. He found himself content to simply watch how her eyebrows would quirk when she found something amusing and the way she’d gesture with her hands to make a point.  She was certainly more fascinating to watch than whatever was out the window at any rate.

“Everything that was said after she was gone was pure fiction made up to make Orvax sound better once Madren wasn’t in Atlantis to dispute him. All of us tidewatchers knew the truth but it didn’t really matter. Madren said the point was that she didn’t have to deal with him anymore so she was the real winner.” Elara gave an emphatic jab of her finger.

“What about after Orvax died? Why didn’t she come back then?” At this point Orm was just enjoying hearing her talk about it but he was still curious as to Madren’s continued presence on the surface.

A small part of him wondered if Madren stayed away because she didn’t think Orm had been any better of a king than Orvax had. He couldn’t be sure though, it wasn’t as if he and Madren had ever butted heads. It could be different with Tidewatchers, but two people were usually required to have met before having a feud. Orm then felt a twang of unease at the idea that Madren had stayed away because she’d seen his future sins and decided he was just as bad as his father. It wasn’t entirely unwarranted but it also wasn’t an idea he liked to entertain.

Elara sensed a pang of anxiety from Orm but rather than address it she simply continued on. “She was formally invited back for the sake of appearances but she declined. I asked her about it a few years ago and she said that as much as she loved Atlantis, she’d come to love the surface too and she wanted to instill some of that love into the next generation of Tidewatchers. She saw enough ill will between land and sea in the tides but wanted to do what she could to abate it, to remind her fellow Atlanteans that there was much to love and protect up above. She taught me well in that regard too.”

Elara nervously tucked a lock of hair behind her ear, looking down at their feet. Orm was hardly about to declare war against the surface again but she knew that her affection for this world above was still an aberration among her people. While she’d argued with Orm about attacking the surface while they were still in Atlantis, she never would have dared to reveal her fondness for it back then. If she had, he would have just rolled his eyes and condescended.

He did none of those things now. In the brief glance she allowed herself to gauge his reaction, she could have sworn he smiled ruefully.

“Indeed she did,” he finally said quietly. Try as she might, she could sense no derision from the former king and that filled her with a quiet sort of gratitude.

It made sense to Orm. Elara had never shown the slightest hesitancy about coming to the surface. To being the one tasked with keeping him safe, perhaps, but she’d held no reservations for the surface. As comfortable as she was down below, there was an ease to her manner up here that some small part of him envied. He didn’t loathe it as he once had but now he was willing to admit that a lot of his discomfort stemmed from not understanding. He still hated their waste and how the people here took so much for granted but he could see hints of joy too. Though he would at least admit to himself that he might not have seen any without Elara’s influence.

A companionable silence fell between them for a time and Orm found himself thinking about his father and Madren. He might have once considered their relationship a mirror of his with Elara. Both Elara and Madren being the stubborn and defiant Tidewatcher while he and Orvax stood opposite as the haughty and proud king. How things had changed. It surprised him to realize that now he felt more kinship with Elara than he did with his father.

His father might have thought he was doing what was right to make Orm the best ruler he could but that didn’t change the fact that Orvax was a cold and distant father. When he did express emotions for Orm it was more anger and frustration with occasional bursts of small pride. More proud of how he had molded Orm than of anything Orm had done for himself. And Orm had spent so long telling himself that it was alright. That Orvax knew what was best but a quiet doubt had always lingered after Orvax had ordered Atlanna’s death. Justify it as Orvax had, Orm had resented his father for robbing him of the one person whom he had known to actually love him. Altanna may have loved Arthur and missed her life on the surface but she had loved Orm fiercely and protectively. Doing her best to spare him the worst of Orvax’s wrath and raise Orm to be considerate and clever and thoughtful.

That was why Orm had never sent his commandos after Tom or Arthur before Arthur came to Atlantis. The rumors of Atlanna’s bastard had certainly plagued his rule as had the knowledge that Atllanna’s human family was what had led to her death and yet Orm had left them alone. He’d certainly been advised to silence the rumors and have the Currys killed but Orm had resisted. It was the only way he could think of to honor Atlanna’s memory. As much as he hated them for essentially taking his mother from him, he knew that Atlanna had loved Arthur and Tom so he’d left them alone.

It was only when Arthur had come to Atlantis himself and challenged Orm’s right to rule that Orm could resist no longer. He was so close to achieving everything he’d been fighting so long for and he hadn’t been able to stand by and let Arthur challenge him. Add Mera’s betrayal and Orm was stung and retaliated in kind. Orm wasn’t proud of it now, it was the actions of a petty man who was hurt and he knew now he would have regretted it if his commandos had succeeded in killing Arthur and Mera.

As ashamed as Orm felt for some of his actions, Orm realized that if he hadn’t done what he had, he would not be where he was right now. The subject of a future assassination attempt and on the surface he’d spent so long despising perhaps- but he was also sitting next to a befuddling, and bitingly clever Tidewatcher who had seen his worst mistakes and still believed in him and that wasn’t something Orm liked the idea of losing. Realizing this affected him in the most peculiar way. As soon as he thought it, he felt a rush run through him and he couldn’t help the slightest tremor that hit him.

Elara sensed it, of course she did, though he couldn’t be entirely sure if she felt it physically or through the tides. In any case, she had grown so accustomed to him that, minute as it was, she felt it and she tore her gaze from the window to meet his eyes.

Concern played across her wonderfully expressive face and he could practically feel her scanning the tides for the source of the tremor.

“You alright?” She asked quietly, unconsciously leaning closer.

He had the absurd desire to lean in as well, just to be even closer to this startlingly lovely woman, but he kept himself in check, trying to school his features in the wake of such an idea.

“I’m fine,” he answered back just as softly. Not because he was worried about any of the other passengers hearing them but because he had the foolish notion that his realization was like a small, easily frightened animal- likely to flee at any loud sound or sudden motion. He couldn’t stop himself from adding, as gently but reserved as he could manage, “I just wanted to thank you.”

Elara could sense something had changed in Orm but, as fast as her heart was beating at their closeness and distracted as her thoughts were, she just couldn’t put her finger on what that change was.

“Thank me?”

“I don’t think I ever properly thanked you for coming up here with me.” He said, even though that barely scratched the surface of what he was grateful for in this current moment.

He was right. He hadn’t thanked her but, if Elara was being honest, she hadn’t expected him to. She wasn’t sure if that was selling the prince short or not but when all of this started he wasn’t feeling any sense of appreciation at his glorified exile. His thanks were hardly some grand glorious gesture, but given where Orm had started, it meant something to Elara. He might have once taken something like this for granted or assumed that it was her duty and simply expected of her. She had begun this journey feeling like the tides were calling her to do this, so she may have once said that thanks weren’t necessary but many things had changed between them since they had left Atlantis.

“You’re welcome,” was all she said and before she could think better of it, she took his hand.

Orm was getting obnoxiously fond of holding her hand. He remembered seeing Elara and Calysa coming to meet them, holding each other’s arms and being very affectionate and he’d certainly seen such friendly physical exchanges among his citizens when visiting the regions but that type of physical familiarity was never something he’d had access to after Atlanna died.

Given all of her many gifts and deductions, Orm wasn’t sure if Elara knew that or not. Didn’t know if this was just her general way with people she was familiar with or if she was actively trying to compensate for his touch-starved youth. And while he wanted to believe he was special, he wasn’t sure how much it mattered in this exact moment. She was holding his hand because she wanted to, because he’d reached out to her and it felt nice.

They didn’t speak again for awhile and eventually she let his hand go with a tight squeeze before getting into her pack for snack bars. The rest of the day was more of the same. There were a few bathroom stops and a constant shuffle of passengers boarding and departing. Sometimes there would be other passengers all around them and paranoid as Orm was he didn’t feel like chatting much, just in case. Elara mostly respected this but sometimes engaged him in small talk about the food they ate or the areas they passed through. He didn’t feel like she was trying to placate him or appease him, but more felt like she was chatting for her own peace of mind and he did his best to help but obviously had little experience in the subject matter.

It was a baffling day but not as frustrating as it could have been if Orm had been left to navigate it alone. Confident and stubborn as he might have been, he had nothing on Elara’s unflappable calm. No matter how loud the bus got or unintelligible the bus driver, she kept her cool and guided them through. Hours passed in this almost mindless chatter. Elara encouraged him to try to get some more sleep, but he knew he wouldn’t be able to. He may not actively dislike and distrust everyone on this bus as he once had, but it was still too foreign an environment for him to get easy.

Elara, to her credit, tried to stay awake out of solidarity but she just didn’t have the same vigor she usually did. Her injury was healing well. She’d made a point to check on it before they left this morning and once at one of the bathroom stops. It would heal within a few days but it still took a lot of energy in the meantime. As there wasn’t anything pressing to distract her or keep her alert, she kept nodding off, lulled by the easy cadence of their fellow passengers and the feel of the bus rolling along down the highway.

Once she woke up abruptly when a bump in the road caused her forehead to collide with the window. Orm, who had been occupying himself counting and memorizing the other people on the bus, started at Elara’s gasp when she was woken. His warrior instincts immediately put him on edge and on the lookout for the cause. She immediately inspected the point of contact with one hand while holding the other out to him as if to give him the all clear.

“It’s fine, just a bump,” she said and instinctively tilted her head to show that no serious harm had been done.

He appeared to study it for a minute as if to make sure she wasn’t hiding any lacerations. Finally, he nodded as if agreeing with her assessment but then frowned minutely, saying almost under his breath, “this is hardly the smoothest form of transportation. It’s awfully clumsy.”

“Well it beats trekking through the jungle for days on our own.” Elara replied with her usual measure of snark and common sense as well as a signature smirk, “I know that we could handle ourselves but that would have been miserable. Just think of the mosquitoes.”

Not having much experience with the flying pests and still thinking of the realization he’d come to earlier that day, Orm wasn’t sure spending days alone with her in the jungle would be particularly miserable after all. However, he also knew she had a point and with mostly unknown adversaries out there, that would not be the wisest course of action.

“Perhaps,” was all he said in reply. He could accept these things in the name of practicality all day long, and he had, but he wasn’t sure he’d ever feel comfortable up here.

While passengers had left and boarded their bus for hours and no one had attacked them or even properly interacted with him or Elara besides the bus driver, he couldn’t shake the feeling of wrongness and unease. Like they were too exposed. And while Elara was the one thing that was keeping him from complete uneasiness or from complaining about this clumsy earth vehicle spewing noxious fumes, it didn’t mean that he was able to feel comfortable up here.

Even Elara’s ability to balance and calm him instinctively was foreign to him. While Elara was the most familiar thing to him for hundreds of miles, he hadn’t been aware of how much he’d come to count on and trust her until surrounded by others. He still didn’t know what to make of how he was coming to regard her- it was still so strange and new to him.

Elara, of course, being as experienced as she was in interpersonal relationships and friendships might know better how to word or contextualize how he was feeling but he didn’t even know how he could put it into words to ask. And, if he was being honest with himself, he wasn’t sure if she felt any of these confusing sensations that he did. What if she simply had grown to regard him as a friend? While that wouldn’t be the worst fate he could suffer at her hands, he could feel something unlike friendship growing in him. He hadn’t had much experience with friendship to be sure but this was just unlike anything he’d ever known. Worse still, what if she still saw all this as duty? What if she was simply doing all this to fulfill the call of the tides?

She had been the one to kiss him that drunken night but she’d also been the one to leave and shut herself off from him after that. He thought it might have been repulsion at his admission but maybe it was her own way of prioritizing duty? Her way of saying that fun or feelings would always come last. He didn’t know where that left him if that was true. So while Orm had no activity to occupy him physically on their long bus ride, he certainly had much to think of.

Elara, for her part, slept for most of it. When she woke up at the stop where they’d be changing busses she was surprised to find that she had not fallen asleep against the window but with her head leaning on Orm. He was just the right height for her head to rest against his broad shoulder comfortably. As the bus fully stopped and other passengers started getting up, she almost sheepishly lifted her head off of his shoulder. She didn’t know why it struck her so odd, maybe in their tight quarters, Orm didn’t notice? Highly unlikely, but perhaps he was still offended at the crudeness of their transport and bore it to prevent her from further injury? It wasn’t the most plausible explanation but it was all Elara could figure as they gathered their things and disembarked the bus for the final time.

Elara gingerly stretched out. If she felt cramped after hours of being in those tight seats, she couldn’t imagine how Orm felt with his much longer frame. If they’d been alone or back at the cabin she’d expect him to work through some of those fighting forms he’d been so fond of but he instead he opted for more subtle stretches. After they’d both taken advantage of a bathroom and regained feeling in their limbs, she could feel him scanning the area. He hadn't been fond of the bus but after eight something hours it was at least more familiar than this little town in the middle of Guatemala.

Elara could understand that and did her best to feel through the tides for any threat, only to be surprised at a familiar thread.

“When is our next bus set to arrive?” Orm asked, looking around dubiously.

“Actually,” Elara said, feeling more confidence in her reading, taking gradual steps forward as she mentally tugged on the tide, “we aren’t taking a bus to the sanctuary.”

“We aren’t?” he asked, confusion and alarm coming off of him.

“No,” she replied as she reached the other end of the pull and pointed to the off-roads Jeep at the far end of the street.

An older woman with long gray hair pulled back under a sun hat sat in the driver’s seat. Her eyes were fixed squarely on the two of them with an almost wicked smile on her face, clear to see even from where they stood.

“Is that...” Orm began but of course it was. Who else could have seen when and where their bus would stop?

“Yep,” Elara answered with admiration and fondness in her voice, “that’s Madren.”

[aleapoffaithfiction]

V.

"Love is not all about loving everything perfect, it is when someones  corrosive nature is the only thing that glues you to them which you  wished it were never there." ― Michael Bassey Johnson

“I heard you the first time ma.”

Curtains and dinnerware. She’d been going on and on about the need for both for nearly thirty minutes. I’d have to question my own mental capacity if I hadn’t remembered it. With the first day of fall already over two weeks behind us, she complained about the need to change all of the pale coral drapes in the house to be in accord with the season. She raved about multiple shades of red being the perfect color palette for the Brooklyn townhome she resides in but eventually changed her mind by randomly blurting out that it’s too early for things to be so Christmas-y and instead opted for brunt orange. As for the dinnerware, it specifically has to be the nearly five hundred-dollar twenty-piece lace gold Vera Wang Wedgwood set that she fell in love at Bed Bath & Beyond.

It took every ounce of energy I had left within me to get off of the couch, change my clothing, and drive over here per her request after an extremely loaded day at work, so the last thing I want to hear about is her trivial needs and yet...here we are.

“Well, I know it’ll be like pulling teeth to get you over here any other day this week, so maybe we can do a little shopping this weekend. We can pick up Celeste and take that new car of yours for a good drive around the city or maybe we can head back your way so that I can go to Walmart.” Or she and Celeste can take either one of their cars and go on their boring shopping trip without me. With mommy’s early retirement and Celeste’s somewhat loose schedule with her counseling and life coaching career, the both of them have more than enough time to be in and out of stores for the sake of having something to do.

Every now and then, they’ll pester me into joining them for the sake of the three of us spending time together, but I usually dread it. They’re the slow, look at anything and everything for no logical reason, shoppers who slowly stroll around the stores while discussing the most trivial things. And me? I’m usually trailing behind them while huffing and puffing in annoyance at it all. Celeste always deems me to be the annoying little sister who throws a tantrum when everyone isn’t doing what she wants whenever I react in that manner and I always let her know that she can kiss my black ass every single time she says it. There’s a lot more I can be doing on a Saturday besides walking around Walmart and looking at the same ol’ shit.

“Yeah, I guess so.” As she wiped her counter top in the kitchen, I broke off another piece of the piña colada pound cake she made with my fingers and dropped it into my mouth. Per the usual, the flavoring and moisture was to perfection.

“I know I thought you better than that. The spoon is right there.” I let that go in one ear and right out of the other. The only way I’d be using that spoon is if she had some vanilla ice cream to go with this cake and she doesn’t, because it’s the first thing I checked for when I arrived. She only has butter pecan. What is it with older people and butter pecan ice cream anyway?  

“Are you still going back home for auntie Shelly’s birthday or are you still thinking about it?” She immediately scoffed with a roll of her eyes and began to fold up the wet kitchen towel so that she could toss it behind the faucet as she always does when she’s finished wiping the counters.

“I’ll probably be there. She’s yet to stop calling and getting on my damn nerves about it. I’ve never known anyone to be more obsessed with their birthday than Shelly. You’d think that she’s turning twenty-one years old with the way she’s carrying on. Oh, and then there’s the part about her wanting a Gucci bag as a gift. She has a lot of damn nerve. Why do people automatically assume because you live in America, that you’re made of money?” And just like that, with her frustration, came her Trinidadian accent in full swing. Though they’re only two years apart in age, both mommy and auntie Shelly clash like no other and yet will give you hell if you dare to test either one of them. Even with the complaints, I won’t be surprised when she flies to Trinidad with that Gucci bag packed with her belongings because she plays the big sister role well and spoils auntie no matter how much she nags about her ridiculous requests. My grandmother, Auntie Shelly, and mommy migrated to the United States when mommy was seventeen and though she’s been here ever since, Auntie Shelly moved back to Trinidad to be with her now husband, Uncle Winston. Supposedly, mommy dated Uncle Winston first and that’s what caused their clashing ways, but that’s a story that I’ve never cared to look into. That skeleton and whatever else involves it, can remain in the closet.

“Because people stereotype. It’s a part of life.” And that’s the truth. You won’t believe how many family members believe my bank accounts are on Oprah levels because my face is on television five days a week. I dread family events for that very reason. I’m all for putting my people on and have definitely extended a helping hand for the sake of granting people opportunities but there are so many people who have no interest in working their way up to where they want to be in life. How do you expect to be somewhere in life without a foundation under you? More than anything or anyone else, the esteem you have for yourself after having busted your ass for an achievement is magical.

“Celeste said that she’d fly down with me for the birthday party if I do decide to go. Why don’t you come too? It’ll be a nice getaway for you and I’ll be able to have both of my children with me.”

“It all depends on the scheduling. I have to warn them weeks ahead if I decide to take a trip because they have to reach out to other analysts or athletes to find creative ways to fill in for me while I’m gone. I can’t just pick up and go. If it’s a weekend thing, I can probably fly out on Friday right after we wrap up on air and just skip out on the Podcast. That should get me there by like Friday evening.”

“Sounds fair enough to me, for as long as you come.”

“I’ll look into it.”

“So how is work?” My eyes instantly widened at the question because it’s one she never asks.

“It’s going great, honesty. I can’t complain even if I wanted to. How can I? I have one of my dream jobs. I’ve always wanted to have a show on ESPN and now I’m apart of a panel for the highest rated show on the network. I’d be a fool to have a single complaint about that.”

“I’ll never be able to understand how sitting around and talking about sports all day long is so interesting but that’s who you are, I suppose.” And there it is; the condescending dismissal of what I love.

Being a tomboy was something that happened to be within my nature while I was a kid, I didn’t ask for it nor did I go seeking that identity. I had no interest in playing with dolls and doll houses, I wanted soccer and basketballs. The whole kitchen and tea party thing was more of my sister’s style. I urged daddy to sign me up for the Boys and Girls Club, every summer league in Brooklyn, and to buy me game systems so that I could play them on those rainy or snowy days when I couldn’t or didn’t go outside and play. Dresses were for church and Easter, as far as I was concerned. Jeans and sneakers were more of my thing and still are; I just sex them up whenever I feel like it because I’ve confidently come into my womanhood and can be multifaced in the way that I dress myself.

I compromised with her by learning how to cook, only because she would constantly drill it into Celeste and I heads that she refused to have her children go out into the world without knowing how to feed themselves, but other than that, all of my thrills were in exciting times like those NFL wildcard games to clinch playoff spots, Venus and Serena Williams coming up in the ranks, or that kid from Akron, Ohio who was deemed to be the greatest human being to touch a basketball while still in high school. Hell, I remember when all of the girls around my way had a crush on Coney Island’s own Sebastian Telfair, meanwhile all I wanted was to play a couple of games of one on one with the guy right in the projects where he, his older brother Jamel, and their cousin, former NBA player Stephon Marbury came up. Though us two girls were all they had, daddy would always happily boast and brag about me being his best friend because I was the best of both words all made up into one. As for my other parent, she refused to understand it and even now, the stubbornness still gets in the way of the potential for us to bond more than we do.

“I’ll never be able to understand how you sit around and watch all of those Housewives shows and yet I don’t judge that you do. If anything, you should be thrilled that I’m accomplishing my goals and doing something positive with my life.”

“Oh, I know you’re doing something positive with your life. I’m not disagreeing with what you do. I’ve told you many times that I’m proud of you, but you know that I’ve never been into those things. You are your father’s child in that aspect and Celeste and I relate more in terms of our interests.”

“That approach is silly though, because despite my lack of interest in a lot of the things that the both of you like or entertain yourselves with, I at least try to figure out a way to enjoy it for the sake of the both of you, but neither one of you grant me the same courtesy. I’ve offered for the both of you to come and visit Bristol and see the studios and you’ve yet to take me up on the offer. I’ve asked you guys to come to games or events, but you haven’t come. So, I stopped asking. What’s the point in wasting my time and setting myself up for disappointment?”

“Sarai, don’t be ridiculous. You really believe that I can sit through hours of a bunch of guys dribbling a ball up and down a court? I’m getting a headache just thinking about it.”

“You believe that I wanted to be a part of that purposeless and stupid debutante ball? I mean just think about how sexist and elitist the concept of it is. It’s a ball to present young ladies to the high society and most of all, to display her to eligible bachelors so that she can marry into a rich family. How shallow can you get with something like that? And yet I did it, for you. I hated every single minute of it, including Chase Williams, and his weird topics of conversation. I can’t believe you thought he and I would ever hit it off.”

“It was at that same debutante ball that your sister met her now husband.”

“Okay, so what?” I was seventeen at the time. I wasn’t worried about finding a husband. Shit, I wasn’t even concerned with a boyfriend. I didn’t date in grammar or high school. My greatest concern at the time was gaining acceptance into the undergraduate program at New York University’s Arthur L. Carter Journalism Institute. I wanted it more than anything else and yet during my senior year, I juggled trying to keep my grades as close to perfect as possible while obliging her erratic decisions for me. Chase Williams being my future husband was a failure, but my acceptance into NYU was a success.

Despite journalism being my major and broadcast and multimedia being my minor, I also had to choose a second major within the College of Arts and Sciences and I ended up going with computer science and economics. If the journalism side of things didn’t work out, I planned to go in the cyber security route or I was going to get rich or die trying by trying to be the next Mark Zuckerberg. Thankfully, journalism was truly my calling. I was accepted into the honors program during the spring semester of my freshman year and was given the opportunity to work on an in-depth multimedia piece over the course of one academic year that ending up being reported on by The New York Times. Arguably the best part of my undergraduate years was six rigorous weeks of a summer program in Ghana where I worked as a foreign correspondent. It was an experience that I’ll never forget.

“I wanted you to be a part of that ball to expose you to things beyond yourself. Sports aside, you were so caught up in just you. I believed you needed to see there’s a lot more to life than balls flying all over the place and the occasional outings with your teammates.”

“Yeah, that’s what family vacations are for and even when we did those, it was never anything I liked. I asked you for Knicks game tickets and you took Celeste and I to see Carmen at the Metropolitan Opera House instead. I asked you for a ticket to the U.S. Open and you took us to see Swan Lake at the American Ballet Theater. For my birthday, you told me to pick anywhere in the U.S. to go for a family trip and I chose the Naismith Memorial Basketball Hall of Fame in Massachusetts and where did we end up going? Niagara Falls.”

“You sound so ungrateful right now. This is exactly what Celeste talks about when she says that you throw silly little tantrums when you can’t get your way.”

“I’m not being ungrateful. You’re calling this a tantrum because I’m telling the truth?”

“Well, Sarai, in a lot of cases, you chose things that myself nor Celeste would enjoy so I tried to find things that I thought would interest all three of us.”

“An opera and a ballet show? For me? And even then, I didn’t even complain about it. I just figured out ways to enjoy it despite being internally angry that I couldn’t go to the places that I wanted to go. I had to get a summer job for that.”

“What about when I took you two to Disney World?”

“It was nice.” And it was. It was the first and only vacation I enjoyed.

“Okay then.”

“But, if we’re going to be technical, the only reason why I was able to see all of the things that I liked is because of auntie Shelly. I spent most of the time in the park with her.”

“Sarai, please. All that matters is we went and you enjoyed it.” In a gesture that she’s been doing in response to my complaints since I was a child, she waved me off with a roll of her eyes and turned her attention to the touch screen display on the right-side door of her brand-new Samsung refrigerator that I’d gotten her for her birthday. She threw enough hints out about the two thousand five-hundred-dollar state of the art gadget to convince me that it would be an essential part of her kitchen and I made it happen.

“Daddy would have taken me to all of those places though. That’s for sure.” I went to my first Knicks game with him. I saw my first home run at the Yankee stadium with him. We saw the Nets together back when they were still in New Jersey. We even went to a Jersey Devils game, though I wasn’t that into hockey at the time. In the summer time, we’d go stand outside the gate at the Rucker Park and watch the guys hoop while we enjoyed ice cream cones from the Mister Softee truck lingering on the corner. I had every pair of Jordans that hit the shelves and my poster collection on my bedroom walls? Unmatched.

“I’m sure he would have but he’s no longer with us and I’m not sure why you feel compelled to bring up what he would have done if he were.”

“I guess because it’s the truth.”

“Well he’s not here Sarai. I’m sorry if you don’t think I was a good enough parent for you. I had a roof over your head, I put food on the table, clothes on your back, and made sure you were in a great school. You had good birthdays and Christmas’. We went on vacations, whether you were grateful for them or not. I tried to do my best as a single parent so don’t come in here throwing it into my face what your father would have done. I did what I could and he would have been damn proud of me.”

“I didn’t say you weren’t a good enough parent. Daddy just understood me more.”

“Well guess what Sarai? He was my husband. You don’t think my time with him was cut short too? I miss him just as much as you do. While I understand that he was your everything, I don’t think he would want you to be behaving in the manner that you do. Parents bring children into the world with the expectation to raise them and then one day leave them behind to be here to make a legacy for themselves. Your father’s life was cut short, but ultimately, he was raising you to prepare for a time when death would happen. I’m not going to be around forever either.” The pitch of her voice suddenly increased as she leaned forward to align her eyes with my own.

“I attempted to break you out of that odd mold you were creating for yourself and to expose you to different things because I don’t want you to do exactly what you’re doing right now; being alone out in this world. You’re so hostile towards life itself and it’s such a horrible mentality to have. I’m surprised you’ve kept Taylor around for so long because all you do is push everyone away. You think your father would want you behaving like that? He would have given you a never-ending earful. I’m sorry that he’s no longer here Sarai, but Wesley isn’t coming back. It’s been sixteen years. You have to move on.”

The tears that were once burning my eyes, came trickling down the sides of my cheeks. Many of our conversations always end up here, with her making this point, and then dismissing any criticism that I have for her as me unfairly measuring her up to my father. It’s never been about that. I don’t believe we have a poor relationship with one another, I just know that it has the potential to be so much better than it is. It’s not even about the past, because I don’t have to bring it up, but when I do, it’s always to point out how things are still the same when it comes to her stubbornness about who I am, what I do for a living, and my interests. I’m not as extreme with my tom boyish ways as I used to be, but I’m also not a prissy girly girl either. I’m just me.

“Move on like you have?” She hasn’t. It’s been sixteen years and she’s never remarried. The government funded support groups helped with her coping skills but anything beyond that? It’s been a slow burn progress. When I do attend church with her, I see guys checking her out and smiling in her face all the time, but from her view, they may as well be speaking to a wall. She still wears her rings and his on a necklace that she always wears around her neck and there are pictures up around the house with him in them as if everything is still as normal as it was before our world came crashing down with his sudden death.

“Don’t worry about me and what I have going on. You’re still wet behind the ears with a whole lot of life ahead of you. Don’t waste your time by trying to be like me. You’d be a fool for that. Your happiness is somewhere out in the world waiting for you and it’s up to you to find it or accept it when it finds you. Dry your face.”

I could barely finish off the second slice of cake as my stomach dropped for the millionth time at the sight of the season ending injury that snapped Beckham’s ankle during their week five match up against the Chargers. The sight of him lying on the field clutching his ankle in agony as tears began to pour out of his eyes is still as gut wrenching as it was when I watched it from my couch yesterday and the many times ESPN replayed it as we reported on it this morning. It’s always disappointing to see a player injured but the manner in which it happened to him drew emotion out of me that I hadn’t expected and yet, I didn’t have enough courage to pick up the phone and check on him. I just…couldn’t.

How could I when I spent the last two weeks ignoring any form of communication that he attempted to have with me? His text messages had gone from being sweet messages wishing me a good morning and his own opinions on the segments from the show, to being filled with confusion as to why I refused to respond to him. He attempted to call me three times but I simply stared at the phone and watched it ring. I thought after the unanswered phone calls his persistence would cease, but he then reached out through a Twitter direct message where he asked me if I was alright, because he was worried. A day or so after that, I believe he’d gotten the hint that I was deliberately leaving him unanswered and he stopped.

I thought I would have successfully disappointed and discouraged him when I spoke on the conflict of interest between myself and any athletes beyond the professional setting but it all went into one ear and right out of the other, so I needed to go another route and ignoring him was that. In the midst of the necessary barrier I built between he and I, I hated that I would find myself looking at my phone in anticipation that he’d try again. I scolded myself for lying in bed wondering about him and hoping that he still watches the show. Last night, I berated myself for the tears that I shed in sympathy for what he’s going through right now.

It felt like the Giants were cursed that day. Dwayne Harris left the game with a fractured foot, Brandon Marshall and Sterling Shepard left the game with ankle sprains, and Beckham with a fibula fracture. It was somber in New York, especially for a team that wanted to redeem themselves after such a terrible season ending playoff lost in the prior season. It pained me to read off Harris being out for the season, but it completely sent my mood into a downward spiral when I had to state the same exact verdict for Beckham. As such an explosive player and someone who only gets sixteen games a season, excluding the playoffs, to play the sport that he loves, I can’t even begin to imagine his disappointment.

I spoke with Heather. When I reached out, he was still in recovery from surgery. She said it was successful and he’s okay.

I reached out to Taylor a short while ago and asked her had she heard anything about his surgery. Everything took place today at the Hospital for Special Surgery in Manhattan.

Okay, good. Thank you.

The remaining half of the additional slice of cake I was having went into the garbage. I then slipped into my jean jacket and grabbed my car keys.

“Ma, I’m leaving. I need to run somewhere right quick.”

“Will I see you this weekend?” I knew she wasn’t too far away. She was right there in the living room wrapped up into what NeNe Leakes has going on in her drama filled life.

“Yeah, I guess so.”

“Okay, then. Don’t catch an attitude when I call you.”

“I never do.”

As I neared the door, something within me told me to turn around, and I swiftly approached her and planted a kiss on her forehead. No matter how many disagreements we may have, that’s my mother, and I’m always going to leave her on a respectful note.

“Drive safely. Are you going to see a guy?” The gleam in her eyes instantly evoked the rolling of my eyes.

“Ma, don’t be ridiculous. I’ll call you tomorrow.”

My first stop was Scott’s Flowers, a florist I frequent when I feel like putting a brighter smile on my mother’s face or whenever an occasion calls for someone to receive flowers. They’re so familiar with my face that I don’t have to call ahead of time for most of my orders and today was of no exception. While swiftly flipping through a booklet of floral arrangements that weren’t impressive enough, I tossed it aside and opted for one hundred long stem yellow roses inside of a cylinder glass vase. In the corner of the room was an assortment of teddy bears that caught my eyes, so I chose the biggest one they had. I know if I had surgery, I’d want a teddy bear to keep me company. Scott slipped in a number of sly questions about who I was spending four hundred dollars on at this time of evening, but I avoided lying by diverting the subject matter. I considered grabbing some chocolates but I ultimately chose not to because I’m not sure if he likes it. The bottles of wine he raved about while I was on my way out of the door were pointless too. Wine can either be nice for a celebration or a painkiller for sadness, but it can’t be either for him because I’m sure he’s on a ton of actual painkillers.

“Tell Dominique I said hello.”

“Will do.” Yes, mommy’s name is Dominique. Mrs. Dominique Nicole Thomas-Nazaire. Trini to de bone.

The drive to the hospital was twenty minutes of bad nerves and conversations with myself that drowned out whatever Hot 97 had playing. I hadn’t even announced that I would be showing up and yet, here I am, in the parking lot, about to intrude on he and his family’s privacy as he recovers from surgery. I’ve always considered myself to be a thinker even though I think too damn much at times, but I didn’t spend much time taking into consideration all the things that could go wrong with this mission to do a good deed tonight. Who I am to even think that I may be able to slightly cheer him up with some tired ass flowers that’ll die within a few days, a teddy bear that his little brother will enjoy far more than he will, and two “Get Well Soon” balloons that I grabbed from a dollar store five minutes before arriving here? And I didn’t even take into account that it’s fucking me. I’m not Oprah known, but I’m known enough for people to make a narrative that is far from the truth if I’m seen here.

“You can be such a dumbass Sarai.” I panned my eyes over the parking lot. “Fuck it.”

I cleared my conscious as I slipped out of the car and retrieved all that I’d gotten for him out of the backseat. With the click of a button, I locked all of my doors and quickly trekked through the sliding doors and to the lobby’s information desk to get a pass.

“Good evening, how are you?” The short, stocky, and elderly woman warmly smiled at me while watching me manage to juggle the flowers, bear, balloons, and my purse.

“Hi. I’m well. I’m here to see Odell Beckham Jr.” 
“Are you on the list?”

Oh. My. God. See? I’m stupid. How and why didn’t I think about there being a list? He’s only one of the most high-profile athletes in the whole fucking world.

“Um, I’m not sure.” I’m not. Obviously.

“What’s your name? Also, I have to note that visiting hours are ending soon.”

“Sarai. Sarai Nazaire.” Great. Just great.

As her fingers went to tapping away at the keyboard, I began to strategize my escape plan so that I won’t suffer in embarrassment when she tells me that my name isn’t there. While on my way out, I’ll trash all of this, because they’re obviously not going to make sure all of this gets upstairs to him due to it being a security risk.

“Sarai?” I couldn’t mistake that voice. As my head twisted to the left, Heather stopped squinting her eyes and brightly smiled at my presence. God decided to be gracious towards me today. I definitely have to go to church this Sunday with mommy. I’m not going to use cramps as a poor excuse like I did yesterday. My period ended Saturday. Lord, forgive me please.

“Hey Heather.” She adjusted the strap on her Chanel bag while approaching me and immediately engulfed me into a hug. Much like her son, I don’t know how anyone can ever become angry with this woman. She’s just one big ball of positivity.

“I’m so glad to see you. O’s going to be so happy you’re here.”

“They said that visiting hours are ending soon.”

“Oh, don’t worry about that. We’re in good standing with the surgeon. Once you’re upstairs, no one’s going to bother you. I stayed here all night long last night.”

“How is he?”

“He’s alright. He’s in good spirits even though he’s in both mental and physical pain. I know that sounds like it doesn’t make sense, but it does to me. He could be a lot of worse, you know? As I told him, it’s a minor setback for a major comeback.”

“That’s true.”

“And the surgery went extremely well. The fix is as perfect as it’s going to get so I can feel a lot of weight being lifted off of my shoulders and his, even though he’s not going to admit that right now. He has a long road ahead of him before full recovery and of course him getting back to the athletic O that we all know and love, but the fact of the matter is that he’s going to recover. There are people who do not, so he’s blessed.”

“I’m so glad to hear that. When I saw his ankle bend like that, I literally yelped out loud.”

“Oh, so did I. I just about had a heart attack. Thank God I was here. My nerves would have been shot to hell had I been back home.”

“Were you leaving?”

“Yeah, I’m going to head back to the house to freshen up and get a bit of rest. He sent everyone else home about an hour ago. I was the last one hanging around. He claims everyone needs to go and chill out for a bit, but honestly, I think he was tired of the crowd being in the room. He couldn’t get much rest himself with everyone hovering over him and doing all of that talking.”

“Oh my gosh, well then, maybe I can just have this sent up and I’ll just head out. If he’s trying to rest, I don’t want to disturb him.”

“Oh no. Don’t be silly. Please go up, I insist. Even if it’s just for a few minutes, I know he’ll be happy you came by.”

“Okay.” Maybe I’ll stick around for ten minutes.

“I should be back first thing in the morning. Oh, and thank you so much for the words of encouragement you spoke this morning for he and the other wide receivers who were injured yesterday. You’re so awesome Sarai. Truly.” Yet again we were hugging.

“Oh, there’s no need to thank me. I hate to see players get injured. It’s awful.”

“Yes, it is. They’ll be alright though. I just try to think positive. I grabbed him a light dinner earlier because he’s not fond of the hospital’s food and he has some snacks up there too, so he should be okay. He knows to call me if he needs me. You can also call me if anything comes up. You have my number.”

“Yes, I do. I’ll be sure to call.”

“Alright then. I’ll see you soon. Have a good night.”

“Goodnight.”

As she walked away, I realized that she hadn’t given the receptionist clearance for me to be able to go upstairs.

Shit.

“Sarai right? I placed your laminated pass right there. I just need you to step back a bit so that I can take a picture with the camera and print one out.”

“Oh, everything is okay?” My brows raised in confusion.

“Of course. Your name is there.” She said it so nonchalantly, it almost went over my head that my name was indeed on his visitor’s list. I’m sure the picture she took looked foolish and that was confirmed once she passed it to me. How is my name already on the list?

“He’s on the fourth floor. The room is on your pass. The elevators are right over there to the right.”

“Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.”

Flutters filled my core as the elevator ascended to the fourth floor. The feeling worsened as I stood in front of the closed door to his private room.

What will I say? If he saw this morning’s episode, then I don’t want to be repetitive with the words of encouragement. Then again, does he even want to hear that? I know I wouldn’t want to hear the cliché “it’ll be okay” after being told I won’t be able to play for the rest of the season. That’s not okay. Maybe I won’t say anything and I’ll just listen. After so much disappointment and a surgery, who wouldn’t want to vent? Either way, I came all this way, so I might as well go through with this. I’ll kick myself in the ass later on when I’m back home.

“Beckham?” I poked my head into the room. There was silence. As he lay there in bed, he stared up at the ceiling in deep thought until I interrupted him.

“Sarai?” He cleared his throat to rid it of some of the rasp as I stepped into the room and allowed the door to close behind myself. Our eyes instantly met and the glossiness within them sunk my mood even further. I could tell he hadn’t been crying but it was clear that the weight of all that had happened to him over the last twenty-four hours was on his shoulders like a ton of bricks and right now, within this moment, he feels something he typically never feels for himself; helpless.

“Yes, it’s me.”

“Wow. Flowers?” A bit of gleam filled his eyes and he chuckled at the sight of all of the yellowness in my hands. As I glanced around the room, I noticed a ton of balloons, two gift baskets filled with chocolate, but no flowers. “I’ve never received flowers before.”

“Really?”

“No.”

“Is it a bad thing?”

“Of course not. I’m flattered, honestly.” I found a nice spot near the window to place them down, so they’d be able to receive a good amount of sunlight and I placed the teddy bear on the couch just near the window.

“I figured I’d get them in yellow to bring some brightness around here. I don’t care what they look like; all hospitals are dull and glum to me. You don’t need that kind of energy around you right now. You want to hug the bear?”

“A hug from you sounds better.” It felt like someone punched a hole into my chest and knowingly squeezed my lungs once he said that. The hesitance was clear as my feet remained just about glued to the floor for a few seconds but I eventually began to inch my way over to his awaiting arms and laid my upper frame on top of his. With him laying down, I was only able to grip both of his arms as he wrapped his drawn-out arms around my body and pulled me close. The beating our hearts synced and somehow, I felt more alive than I did at any point during this befuddling day. A laziness filled me as the warmth of his body relaxed mine and the enthralling scent of his cologne coerced my eyes to close as we basked in the moment. The feeling his fingers lightly pressing into my back informed me of just how much he needed to be embraced and if that could give him just the slightest bit of comfort through this, I’m am willing to give him as many hugs as it takes.

“I ran into your mom. She said the surgery was a success.”

“Yeah, the doctor claims all is well. I have a long road ahead of me though.” Despite me sitting up to be able to look at his alluring face, I was still wrapped up within his arms.

“It takes about six weeks for bones to heel, but there’s a possibility it can be longer. We’ll just have to pace it. For the next four to six weeks I really have to chill out and keep my weight off of it as much as possible. They’re going to put me on a pain management protocol so I won’t be so dependent on the opioid medications which is great for me because I hate how all of that shit is making my body feel. I’m going to be in a splint when I get out here and I have to basically sit on my ass and elevate it ninety percent of the day. In about two weeks, he’ll take the sutures out and then I’ll get one of those boots that you can take on and off. I’ll be able to start slightly moving the ankle then and taking showers. They’ll do an x-ray in six to seven weeks to see how well the bone healed and if all is well then, I’ll be able to start putting weight on it and doing physical therapy.”

“Well, at least you really listened to all that he had to say.” I had to laugh at the way he easily listed off the way his life is going to be for the next month and a half. He didn’t sound enthusiastic about it whatsoever, but he’s certainly well informed.

“Well, yeah I did. I can’t take not being on my feet for so long. All of that sitting around is going to drive me insane.”

“It doesn’t have to. Now is a good time for you to find other things to entertain yourself with.”

“You know what’s crazy? Remember when I said to you that I was praying to God for more time to do things that are beyond the football field like spending time with my family, friends, and the dogs? Now look.”

“Well, I don’t think God decided to grant you that wish by snapping your ankle, but at least you’ll be able to gain some perspective about life in the midst of this.”

“Everyone keeps telling me that it’s going to be alright. Minor setback for a major comeback.”

“Well, I’m not going to tell you that.” His hands trailed down my back as he frowned in confusion in the same manner that I had been doing downstairs.

“What do you mean?”

“You snapped your ankle. You’re lying in a hospital bed. Despite what everyone is telling you, that’s not what you feel. This feels fucked up and pretty shitty. You’re out for the season and now you have to watch your team fight for victories without you. That feels even worse. So right now, it doesn’t feel like it’s going to be alright because it’s still all so fresh and you have the right to feel that way. Be angry, frustrated, hell, even cry if you want to. It’s alright to have those emotions because this isn’t easy. There will come a time when you do feel like everything’s going to be alright, but tonight isn’t it…and that’s okay.”

I don’t know how anyone uses those ridiculous and yet absolutely insulting adjectives such as diva, asshole, little girl, and selfish to describe this man. The majority of the time we see him, he’s covered up in a uniform and is defined by the number on the back of his jersey. For sixty minutes, people create so many false narratives of who he is based upon passionate responses on the field and his will to win. It’s beyond unjust because the person that I’ve come to know is charming, compassionate, and has elements of shyness within him. He’s composed, observant, and aware. He has a keen eye for detail, listens intently, and thinks before he speaks. He carries himself with his head held high and brings about an energy into any room he steps into unlike any other. He puts smiles on people’s faces, tells the silliest jokes to lighten the mood, and shows genuine concern for the well-being of others. He’s unique; a one of a kind Baton Rouge born royal who has made his mark and is continuing to do so no matter what negativity his naysayers speak.

“Thank you for that, Sarai.”

“You’re welcome.”

“Can I ask you something? You don’t have to explain yourself if you don’t want to. I’m just curious.” And suddenly I wanted him to let me go. I hate that he could easily feel the nervousness within my now tense fame. To soothe me, he ran one of his ridiculously huge palms up and down my back.

“Yeah?”

“Why’d you ignore me? Did I do something wrong?”

“No. You didn’t do anything wrong. Beckham, you don’t understand.”

“Help me understand.”

“This can’t…” It was me who broke his embrace as the door suddenly cracked open. With one step, I dashed backwards to create some space between the bed and myself.

“Mr. Beckham, it’s time for your final round of medication for the night. You should be able to sleep with this one. Are you feeling any pain?”

“Nah not really. The only thing I’m feeling is flips in my stomach and chills from all of the medication.”

“Yeah, those are typical side effects, especially because we’re giving it to you intravenously. Usually when medication is going straight through the vein it can cause you to have slight jitters, chills, possible anxiety, or it feels like there’s this rush happening within your body. I promise we’re not going to give you anything that is dangerous for you. We’re just trying to keep your pain under control. Remember you had surgery today.”

“I know.”

“At least your girlfriend is here to keep you company. She’ll keep your mind off of it until you fall asleep.” My mouth fell agape at her assumption and he giggled like a young school boy as she viewed his chart.

“That’s true.” If I didn’t have any sense, I would have beamed my phone at his head.

“So, this is morphine and your antibiotic. This should last you throughout the night, but I’ll be in to check on you. Do you have to use the bathroom?” She began to check his pulse and blood pressure.

“Nope, because I’m not going in that bed pan again.”

“Beckham, don’t be stubborn.” I had to butt in. He’s in here for an ankle fracture and he’ll be back for a damaged bladder if he holds his urine due to being too prideful.

“I actually don’t have to go.”

“Are you sure? Why don’t we try? I’ll get a pan.”

“I’ll step outside.” Their conversation was officially shifting into a privacy territory.

“You don’t have to step outside.” Beckham found her responses to be all too funny as I widened my eyes in disbelief. Uh, I absolutely do have to step outside and I’ll be stepping outside of the building if she continues with these assumptions.

“Nurse Meghan, I really don’t have to go. I’m okay.”

“What about number two? Have you had the urge yet?” And then it quickly became my turn to laugh at him as he frowned his face up in sheer embarrassment at such a question.

“No.”

“That’s normal. It may take a day or two for your bowels to open up but if it’s any longer than that we’ll give you a mild laxative to fix that problem.”

“I doubt I’ll need that.”

“We’ll see. Hopefully you won’t. Your blood pressure is great. I’ll check your temperature, insert your medicine through the IV, and you should be good to go. You need anything else for the night? I already showed you how to work the television. On the remote is a button for you to press to call the nurse’s station and I’ll be right here to assist you. You have water right over there if you want it. You want any extra pillows or blankets?”

“Nah. My mom brought me some from home so that I could be comfortable. I’m straight.” He lifted his tongue for the thermometer and within a few seconds she was jotting down his temperature.

“All normal. If anything should change, you know how to reach me.” I’m not sure why but my eyes followed her every move as she worked with the IV to properly insert the liquid within both syringes into the line. She was gentle enough to make sure she didn’t irritate his arm and the vein by pulling on or adjusting it.

“I do.”

“Alright then, I’ll check on you in a bit Mr. Beckham.”

And yet again, we were left alone. His eyes hadn’t panned back up to the ceiling like they were before I intruded on his thinking. Instead, they were directly on me while I leaned against the wall.

“You’re going to go to sleep soon, so I’m going to get out of here. You need your rest.”

“I don’t want you to go.” Why does he say all of the things that men don’t say but actually need to say?

“You’re going to fall asleep within the next ten minutes or so.”

“I’ll fight it. I want to talk to you.”

“You’re so stubborn.”

“I won’t fall asleep. Just stay for a little while longer.” How can I deny someone laying in a hospital bed?

“Okay.”

“So, I watched clips from today’s show on my phone. I couldn’t see the whole episode because I was in recovery and still under the anesthesia when it was on. Scott wasn’t there today, which made the show even better.” My laughter was louder than it should have been because that is one of my co-hosts after all, but gosh, he peeves so many people. There’s one side of him that deliberate does it for the sake of sparking debates and the other side is actually just his personality coming out to shine, often times, in the worst ways. He can be condescending, over exaggerated, and a large majority his sentiments causes our viewers to unleashed full on rants about him on social media but he is who he is and he’s yet to say anything controversial enough to be removed from the show. His disdain for Beckham, Tom Brady, Lebron James, and Antonio Brown never falters. We’ve all learned not to take him seriously whatsoever because if he were to meet any one of the three, he’d never keep that same energy in their faces.

“Yeah, Scott went on vacation with his girlfriend.”

“I see the way he looks at you. I think he likes you.”

“He does.” He flirts, he’s asked me out for drinks once, and his compliments can be overkill. I’m not interested nor will I ever be.

“You’re out of his league. He should know better than that.” Though he attempted to suppress it, I noticed the yawn and the way he attempted to pull the covers up over his body. I decided to help. If I felt the chill within the room, I’m sure it feels worse for him.

“How’s that?” I covered him up to the top of his shoulders.

“It’s great, thank you. So back to what I was saying, he’s out of your league.”

“Is that so?”

“Yeah. I’m sure he knows it too.”

“So, who’s in my league?”

“No one.”

“No one?” I didn’t expect that answer. I figured he’d throw in some joke about it being him. He’s good for a flirtatious moment.

“No one. You’re definitely in a league of your own, but I’m trying to work my way up to bring drafted in. With the first and only pick in the 2017 Sarai Nazaire draft, Sarai selects Odell Beckham Jr. from Baton Rouge, Louisiana and the New York Giants.”

“Shut up!” I knew it was coming. We roared in laughter because of that. He wouldn’t be himself without inserting some kind of joke into the mix.

“Sarai, you know after this you can’t ignore me ever again, right? You bought me flowers, a teddy bear, and balloons. You told me I could be as mad as I want. You were about to help me use the bed pan.”

“Oh, no I wasn’t.” The only way I would have done that is if it were truly an emergency and the hospital had not a single nurse within reach of him.

“Yeah, you were. You tucked me in. All that’s left for you to do is kiss me and then we can start talking about the rest of our lives together.”

“Go to sleep Beckham.”

“You go to sleep Nazaire.” This yawn came with his heavy eyelids struggling to stay open so that he could focus on me. He didn’t have the strength to say anything more. I looked on as he eventually drifted into the deep slumber that he was fighting against and the light snoring was a clear sign that he’d be out for the night.

The reclining chair directly next to the bed had a pillow and blanket neatly folded up in its seat and on the opposite side of the room was the couch. I had options and yet I chose to remain nearby. I’m going to assume this is where Heather slept. She did a nightshift last night, so I’ll do one tonight.

I gently lifted the yellow beanie hat covering his head just a bit and planted a soft kiss on his forehead. I, then, gave him a second one for good measure. As my eyes panned down to his slightly pouting lips, I mentally scolded myself for momentarily craving to feel them against my own. The man is laying in a hospital bed and yet I’m consumed with my own childish and temporary fantasies.

I kicked off my sneakers and curled up into the chair. I didn’t expect it to be comfortable but it isn’t as bad as I thought it would be. The cushion is soft enough to keep my back and bottom without aches throughout the night.

Lastly, I covered myself in the blanket smothered with his scent and propped up the pillow that smelled just the same right under my head.

“Sweet dreams, O.”

Within a half an hour, I was having sweet dreams of my own.

[douchebagbrainwaves]

WHY I'M SMARTER THAN CONTROL

Or rather, investors who do that tend not to like uncapped notes. I learned the trick of speaking fast. In the UK, where taxes were even higher than in the hope of catching up. Using a slightly tweaked as described below Bayesian filter, we now miss less than 5 per 1000 spams, with 0 false positives, but in fact it will have near zero effect. But while it certainly helps to be driven mostly by people's identities.1 This habit is unconscious, but not hapless. Some of them truly are little Machiavellis, but what about Microsoft? So get to work.

So if you're a hot deal—they can pretend they just got distracted and then restart the conversation as if you'd thought of it, and let people design whatever object systems they want as employees. It's much better than mediocre ones. And last but not least, the increasing cheapness of starting a startup to try to solve problems. It was the same in music and art. But I bet that particular firm will end up at the mention of that game, because it's not on topic by the real standard, which is the first round of real VC funding; it usually happens in the Google empire that only the CEO can deal with, and he tells the reader explicitly what they are building, they very often come back with million dollar orders for banner ad impressions. A lot have been told by their parents, not by a long pause while they tried to be one in which the default choice of ambitious young people is to start a new company that grows at 5% a week will grow 12. So a truly effective refutation would look like. 2 or 3 of most things, and now Yahoo is too. Hackers are lazy, in the Gmail sense everything I've told you so.

Most of the famous ones that have gone public. They have to, but also all the ideas that implementing it would have become checkout clerks to become engineers. The two most important things we've been working on. The earlier you pick startups, the second woodworker will have less money, but it's even more true of every other city. If life is short. Eventually a tradition evolved: application programs must not be written in Lisp especially once you cross over into Greenspunland. And yet they're probably the most promising kids to start at a low valuation, that you couldn't give people the kind of results I expected, but I think we can safely say that a certain kind of work is underpaid is thus identical with saying that people want the wrong things. Make something people want is to have the right sort of wrongness, that's a straightforward criticism, but when he attacks a statement as divisive or racially insensitive instead of arguing that it's false, we should have become direct marketers.

Suits, for example, is generated by Perl. Pick good cofounders. Needless to say, my imitations didn't say anything either. And by this I mean that if your software is what will make your company successful. Makers February 2002. Richard and Jonathan Rees have done a lot of interest, almost all will at least encourage a habit of questioning assumptions.2 What sustains a startup in college? I moved to New York via Memphis. I want to take a shot at describing where these trends are instances of it.

So if you're a noob or a control freak for wanting such a thing it would provide a boost to any filtering software. That idea is almost as stupid as it sounds, however. Slashdot and Digg by the time we called retards. I'm going to start a startup on less money than most people would agree was absurdum. The danger is to companies in the batch, so we were pretty excited when we figured out what you're addicted to. The answer is: any company that competes with TV networks. Defaults are enormously powerful, precisely because no one said anything definite enough to refute something it depends upon. When Bauhaus designers adopted Sullivan's form follows function, what they meant was, form should follow function.

That may help keep the next generation. Time gives us such distance for free. When there's something we can do with the solutions. VCs will encourage you to continue to the point where startups can least afford it. Fortunately, I can imagine what I'd tell them about startups. There were a few thousand people seems big enough. There are whole classes of risks that are no longer leads, why do we conceal death from kids?

Web-based applications is the lameness of Web pages as the user interface.3 All I can say for the other 90% is that some of those sentences. Indeed, it evolved from actual warfare: most early traders switched on the fly. Dealing with immigration problems is like raising money: for some reason. The one universal rule is that I don't think there's any limit to the amount of work that doesn't scale. In principle they're entitled to, but instead to explain how it's recession-proof. If smaller source code is the purpose of a language were how good finished programs look in it. Studio art and creative writing courses are wildcards. Even if you could somehow redesign venture funding to work without allowing VCs to become rich, there's another rapidly growing subset: making things easier. Fundraising September 2010 The reason startups work so well with startups: you need to fix. In other words, the main vector is probably the first you've founded. Finally at the end, or a carefully cropped image of a very important meta-trend, one that Y Combinator itself was something I only did because it seemed interesting.

Notes

01. The two guys were Dan Bricklin and Bob nominally had a day job.

Is what we do the opposite.

The CPU weighed 3150 pounds, and also really good at sniffing out any red flags about the prior probability of an outcast, just as big a cause as it might take an angel. Anyone can broadcast a high school. When investors can't make up startup ideas is many times have you read them as promising to invest, regardless of the founders: agree with them.

[superoddgaming]

My Top 10 Games For E3 2019

E3 2019 is on the horizon and you know what that means; endless predictions and guesses and what the hell is gunna be going down from the 8th to the 13th apparently.

A bunch of companies are having their own showcases and conferences except for Sonyand I believe EA this year but I’m not really gunna run through all of the different conferences I’m more so just gunna run through the games that I am most excited about.

10// Session

It’s been almost a decade since we have seen a good skateboarding game on console or PC. Skate 3 released in 2010 and since then nothing has been able to dethrone it as the last well executed skateboarding game.

Tony Hawks Pro Skater sure as hell didn’t even come close. If anything that game made us have even less hope for the genre. But then along came Session, announced at 2018’s E3 slated for a late 2019 release on PC and Xbox.

I hope that we get to see more of Session during Xbox’s conference along with a look into a campaign for the game as well as a final release date.

9// Animal Crossing

I am the most excited about this one mostly because of the Switch’s portability and this will be the perfect drop in drop out game to have on the go with you.

I’m really hoping for an Island or vacation themed one this time around, I think that would be so cool.

8// Control

Control looks all kinds of bizarre, creepy, fun and holy shit the physics they have in this game is just absolutely crazy.

Destructible environments, almost everything is interact-able and they really showcased it at the end of their trailer and where she picks up the projector and shoots it at the wall and each of the boxes and papers all act independently.

I am amazed with this game both technically and from a story standpoint, it looks like a descent into madness mixed with a little government conspiracy.

I’m really excited to see where this one goes and it does look like it will be another PS4 exclusive. Sony is KILLIN IT with the single player experiences.

7// Biomutant

I have had my sights on Biomutant for what it feels like years now. I have eagerly been watching and awaiting more news and insider looks for it. It looks like so much fun, it’s got style, zany humor, really funny narration and the game play looks really promising.

Not only that but the world that your creature exists in is really fascinating with all of these spliced creatures all over the place and interacting with each of them to find out how the world went to a over-polluted corrosive wasteland is sparkin’ some interest in me.

I have a feeling we will get another gameplay demonstration as well as a release date but I’m honestly not expecting this one to come out until 2020 or 21.

This is one of those games that I’m fine with if it takes forever to come out just because I really want it to succeed.

6// Outer Worlds

Space is yours to explore, for a price. Impossibly cool looking monster combinations, beautiful unearthly landscapes and a crazy cast of characters on top of that and you got yourself a new favourite to sink only what I can assume will be over a hundred hours.

They showcased some game play for it and the writing is just awesome. The fact that they has the crowd and myself laughing without and voice acting done in the game yet is a testament to their comedic writing.

What I love most about this game is there’s no real good and evil. You play the game how you want to play it. If that means going along with the story and being a boring upstanding citizen you can do that.

If that means literally murdering actors because of a terrible performance and then disintegrating the director you can do that. Either way you are still rewarded in some fashion for your quests and I just think that is so cool paired with all the other face swapping goodness.

5// Pokemon: Sword & Shield

This will be my first Pokemon game in probably a decade. The last one I played was I think was Ruby and Sapphire.

I’m hoping that Pokemon gets some love during the E3 Direct and we get to see a little bit more of the Region and possibly a look at the starter evolutions.

Y’all know I’m #grookeygang for life. Doesn’t matter what it’s final evolution is look at that little bastard.

They look like they are introducing more RPG elements and the Pokemon franchise could use a refreshing new implication of their pattented Pokemon formula. Hence the reason I haven’t gotten a Pokemon up until this release.

Here is to hoping that they showcase more of the technical improvements beyond just content. I do have a feeling some of the millions of Pokemon IP’ currently being released might get talked about instead though.

4// Cyberpunk 2077

This will come as no surprise it’s in my top 5.

It’s in everybody’s top 5.

It’d be doing this game a dis-service to not have it in your top 5.

CD Project Red, the people who made the Witcher 3, have been working on this game for a millennia now and last year it was showcased and said to be playable from start to finish at that point.

I think we will get a final showcase of all the polishing and finishing touches they’ve put on the game and set it up for a release window.

And I mean what’s not to love about this game?

The concept of cyberpunk the style alone is already badass but a whole dystopian world set around that and knowing that Project Red can do with world building, questing, dynamic abilities and interactions.

If you ask me I don’t think it’s going to be coming until late 2020. This is a game that NEEDS to be perfected. It needs to have a good release. People have been anticipating this game for years, including myself.

My wallet is going to be so empty...

3// Astral Chain

This is what I want to see from Nintendo!

No more Sequelitis, finally an interesting fully developed IP and it looks absolutely badass.

The world, the intricate fighting system, badass robo-cop persona’s on leashes, being a cool ass detective.

This game just looks amazing. We need to see more of it. We know almost nothing about the story so far or even how expansive this game is shaping up to be.

YOU GET TO RIDE ROBO-DOG MECHS! whats not to love?

But hey it’s directed by the dude who did Nier Autmoata and that game was a hidden gem for a while. I’m really hoping this game get to bask in the spotlight a little bit more.

I want this game to be successful so bad. As fun as the Mario and Zelda games can be I know that the Switch can have some serious independent releases like this one.

Astral Chain my just be the trendsetter the Switch needs to prove that it’s not just the Mario console, it’s something that can hold it’s own up against the Xbox and Playstation.

2// The Evil Within 3

This is my wildcard.

I know next to no one is anticipating this game but I LOVE THIS FRANCHISE.

I love the world they have created, the resident evil vibes, the terrifying distorted monsters, the twisted visuals that send a chill down your spine.

The ever looming threat of always being hunted, watched or taunted. The Evil Within masters the atmosphere of never feeling truly safe. You are always on guard and that makes for very interesting game play in a horror narrative.

There was worlds of improvements made between the first and second game and I loved each of them dearly. We were left with a couple unanswered questions at the end of the second game and I really want to see the story come to a close and finish off the trilogy.

I’m not expecting and game play or even a release window but at some point during Bethesda’s conference I really really want to see this pop up. We know they’re not announcing the new Elder Scrolls so there is definitely room there for a surprise release.

This is just me being really really desperate for a third game, the second game had such an incredible world and we saw the characters grow so much it would be a shame to see all of that get stuck in just the second game.

Not to mention that this is the most fun I’ve had playing an actually scary game in a long time. Let’s make it happen Bethesda

1// Square Enix: Avenger’s Project

The long awaited and incredibly mysterious Avenger’s project form Square Enix is the cherry on the cake of this E3.

Square Enix is hosting their own panel and while I know majority of it is going towards the 7 remake and possibly a new final fantasy announcement they would be just plain dumb to not have this ready to announce.

With the MCU concluding it’s current phase with Endgame now is the perfect time to showcase this project. It has been two years since we had the teaser and people were going bat-shit then, imagine what would happen now.

The crazy thing is that this will be the first part of a multi-game deal between marvel and Square Enix which means that this game will just serve as the starting block.

We have seen Marvel make an incredible comeback into the gaming universe and they may be doing exactly that. Creating a gaming universe to pair along side their cinematic universe. This one just might surpass PS4 spidey though. It’s got some serious hype going behind it and we might just finally get to see it at E3 this year.

The Wrap-Up

Anyways that is my top 10 list for this years E3. Are they the biggest announcements or releases? Not by a long shot!

But they are the ones that as of right now I am the most excited about!

Are there anything that you think I’ve missed or forgot about? Are you one of the only other Evil Within fans that want a third instalment?

There’s gotta be someone else out there wanting this as bad as I do!!

[taz-writes]

Introduction to Nymia/Colorverse

I mentioned making a post about that other secondary storyverse the other day, right? Well, here it is! (Fair warning, this is less of an active WIP than a concept I like to play with—I probably won’t create any finished product for this world for a WHILE. It’s more of a creative sandbox than a proper novel-in-the-making.)

TLDR; magical girls/boys in a fantastical 1800s steampunk-adjacent setting work together (with varying levels of success) to right the wrongs of the world they live in. Although they were all trained together for a few years in their early teens, it’s been a while since they’ve reunited, and they’ll have to contend with challenging geography, a generations-long war, and their own clashing ideologies before they’ll be able to start figuring out what the problem is. The whole thing’s 90% driven by my love of dramatic irony and secret identities.

Genre-wise, this is another fantasy, but it has a very different flavor from Feilan. It’s also a bit more mature in general, straddling the YA/NA line because of the ages of the protagonists. The timeline flipflops and some scenes are set during the squad’s Academy days as young teenagers, but the real plot happens when they’re in their early 20s. I wouldn’t say this is darker--Feilan gets super fucked up in places--but it’s probably going to feel a little less optimistic, and there are more shades of grey. 

The Colors

Regardless of where in Nymia one hails from, everyone knows of the colors. You may know them as gods, or archetypes, or spirits, or ancestors, but their influence is ever-present and ever-powerful regardless.

The colors are manifestations of human symbolism and belief. They began as formless congregations of a natural energy that flows throughout the planet, and as early humans developed civilization and encountered them, they began to take on the traits of certain colors in the spectrum of light. They are influenced by humanity, and influence humanity in turn—more like primal forces of nature than thinking, feeling beings. Despite this, though, they have clear wills of their own and personalities. They’re sort of... human-adjacent, but ultimately something greater. Human mages are able to draw on the powers of the colors and cast magic based on their color of choice!

The precise meanings and powers of the colors vary by the culture and social class of the believer, but they are worshipped across Nymia, and plenty of patterns pop up. Unfortunately, most of Nymia doesn’t get along—of the four realms consisting the continent, two have been at war for generations, and the remaining two are somewhat isolated from both the warring countries and each other.

Each generation, the colors choose humans to wield their powers and enact their will to encourage peace and balance throughout the realms. These humans are called the Paladins. They’re not very well-known, though, because the last few generations of paladins were not strong enough to make a significant difference or achieve much of anything. This generation, those paladins are our protagonists! Which brings me to...

The Characters

This storyverse is WAY more character-driven than my other WIP, which is why I keep dodging around it and hiding from a plot, but the characters are the best thing I’ve got going here. I won’t beat around the bush, just introduce them.

Talxin Zatruc is the Paladin of Red! He’s really short, he barely hits 5’3”, but there’s a lot of intensity packed into that petite form. Red is the color of plague, poison, decay, and death. As such, they tend to be vilified in most places, and redmages aren’t winning any popularity contests. To Talxin, though, red means something else. He was raised dirt-poor in the country by parents trapped in Elcrin’s broken legal system, and to them, red is the color of justice. All things are equal in death, after all. His red magic isn’t limited to just killing people. He’s not a very trusting person, and he tends to stammer a lot and bow out of conflict, but there’s a core of steel under his surface. He’ll cross any line if it means achieving a better world. He’s like, my way of protesting about how badass Anakin Skywalker could’ve been if the Star Wars writers gave a shit.

Syzyga Lazuli is not in fact associated with the color blue! She’s the Paladin of Orange, who represents exploration, navigation, innovation, and human ingenuity. In her native country of Kelrie, she’s in constant demand fixing trade ships and assisting mapmakers, but her true passion lies elsewhere. Syz is an avid inventor, constantly creating new ways to make the world a better and more exciting place. Remember Master Builders from the LEGO movie? That’s basically what Syz’s orange magic does, it’s pretty cool. One of her trickiest creations is the wired mechanical “exoskeleton” she wears on her arms (cooler name pending), which compensates for an extreme hypermobility disorder she’s dealt with since childhood. Her ultimate dream is to create a functional flying machine—something that many orangemages have attempted, but none have succeeded in so far. She likes pointy things, stargazing, and using said hypermobile hands to occasionally one-up Nyrene’s attempts to freak people out.

Soenya Arrenya is the Paladin of Yellow. The emoticon :} is an accurate summary of her personality. Yellow is associated with weather and natural disasters as a trickster archetype, but they are also a patron of underdogs and comedians. They’re one of those archetypes whose interpretations vary wildly by location. Soenya hails from a remote town in the northern Sapiran tundra, the kind of place where ice tornadoes are things that exist, and her notion of practicality is... we’ll just say, it’s a bit different from the city-dwellers’. She doesn’t have much concept of property damage (or property). She’s really flirtatious and will hit on just about anyone, which embarrasses her colleagues sometimes, to the point where most of the other paladins figure she’s just doing it to mess with them. She and Nyrene do NOT get along.

Darrus Colere is the Paladin of DICK MAGIC Green, and I did NOT draw him buff enough in this picture. He needs to be like twice as buff and twice as Big. He’s almost 6’4” and deserves to be built like an Olympic deadlifter. Green is associated with healing, plant life, fertility, and sexuality. They’re one of the only two colors ever given a gender, as in Sapir Green also represents masculinity. Darrus is valid to fuck. Unfortunately he’s also easily flustered and a little bit dense, he tends to get strange ideas in his head and it takes a LOT of pushing to redirect him. He’s got inertia. Darrus cares more about plants than most people, he will run after you crying if you step on “his” grass. He and Talxin shared a room at the Academy as baby 13-year-olds and they’d fight constantly because Talxin kept accidentally killing Darrus’s houseplants with poorly-controlled red magic. Also, he’s genuinely terrified of Talxin, which in terms of sheer physicality is hilarious. At his core, he’s a very caring person! He expresses affection by lecturing people on your behalf. It’s kind of sweet. He’s from Kelrie like Syz, but the other side of the country.

Anlied Atidae is the elusive Paladin of Blue. Raised in the upper echelons of Sapiran society, she’s still grappling with the extremely repressed behavior she was raised to exhibit, but even behind her veil of mystery she’s a strange and deeply thoughtful individual. Blue is the archetype of thought, philosophy, emotion, and the human mind. In Sapir, Blue represents femininity. Although private, Anlied is very sincere in her desire to help others. Her life of privilege and nobility tends to blind her to the reality she lives in, though, and even as an adult she is very naive. She’s all about the conceptual thought exercise of fixing the world but stalls short in horror when presented with an actual problem. Despite using magic that specializes in emotion and the mind, she has very little awareness and understanding of her own emotional experience. Rationality is prized above all else in Sapiran society, particularly in the noble circles Anlied grew up in, and it is considered taboo to express any kind of emotion outside of a Blue temple. As emotions are sacred to Blue, they should be shown to Blue alone. Some Sapiran royals will even veil their faces in blue fabric as the ultimate expression of non-expression. This culture.... this culture seriously messed with Anlied’s head.

Nyrene Enkeli is the Paladin of Purple and the team’s most infamous wildcard. She’s tall, skinny, pointy, and an avatar of mayhem—literally. Purple is, among other things, the archetype of chaos. They also represent cycles, wisdom, and the passage of time. Nyrene really likes knocking people off-guard, and can produce an impressive variety of disturbing noises. She also swallows swords, spits fire, and juggles like a fiend. She’s the sole representative among the paladins of Nemmonay—an elusive free state off the coast of Kelrie that shelters pirates, outlaws, and a dozen other criminal elements holding each other together in a perilous state of organized anarchy. Nyrene is the embodiment of that trope where a character has to remove all their weapons, and holds up the line for 20 minutes picking tiny knives out of their hair and bootsoles. Upon first glance, she seems like she’s totally off her rocker. She says weird stuff that doesn’t make sense, and does weird stuff for shock value alone, and generally moves like a cat that’s seen a ghost in the corner. What she really is, though, is a bona fide genius. Nyrene’s purple magic allows her to travel through time to a certain extent, and she’s often balancing two or more perfect loops at once, with some really bizarre caveats added to make sure the streams don’t cross. She has a lot of ulterior motives. She considers Syzyga her best friend, because Syzyga is the only person who hasn’t panicked at the sight of spontaneous sword-swallowing. She really doesn’t get along well with Soenya.

Pariya Spinel is the current Paladin of Pink, though she wasn’t the first in this generation. The OG pink paladin turned out to be such an unspeakably awful person that Pink themself appeared to strip her of her status. Pariya joined the group late and didn’t have much time to get to know the others, which she’s rather self-conscious about, but pretty much everyone likes her. She doesn’t have too much to worry about. Pink is a tricky archetype to pin down. They’re associated with creation, they’re the pantheon leader, and they have symbolic ties to space and the heavens. In practice, this means Pariya has the power to create things like energy constructs or even just simple objects. It’s a difficult and tiring power to use but has the potential to be super broken. Pariya isn’t very good with her magic, and she’s extremely anxious and self-conscious about it, to the point where her nerves may be preventing her from doing much of anything at all. She’ll get there, one day...

So, yeah! That’s the squad! Not pictured is Rovato, whom I’ve mentioned briefly on this blog before—he’s the main antagonist in this universe. He’s a paladin of Silver. Silver used to be part of the pantheon, once upon a time, but they’ve been forgotten over the last few generations for an assortment of reasons. Most of those reasons have to do with Rovato. As purple represents chaos, silver represents order, and the exertion of will upon the whims of the natural world. Silver once had different aspects in the same way the other colors do, and in Sapir they actually represented change and manipulation—this is the aspect Rovato exploits. He’s used some loopholes in the magic system to make himself into a near-immortal shapeshifter and he wants power and stuff. I’m still working out the plot, so this could change, but that’s what I have right now. 

The general backstory is that the Paladins were gathered together by the elusive headmaster of the Academy, a school on an unclaimed island meant specifically to train each generation’s set of paladins and prepare them to bring peace to the world. While at the Academy, they were not allowed to share their real names or anything about their origins, so that they couldn’t judge each other for their differences and stuff. The paladins are spread across the continent to represent all four realms and every end of the class spectrum and the whole point of the team is to encourage unity. Can’t have them being racist at each other! Unfortunately, the status quo of the war between Sapir and Elcrin shifted dramatically during their third year at school, and they were sent back home before being allowed to learn each other’s names and origins and all that stuff. Now, approximately five or six years after the Academy disbanded, something is happening that can only be resolved by the paladins themselves. So now they have to get the team back together, and seek each other out across national borders and geographic obstacles and LOTS of weird culture clash. I’m still working on figuring out what’s happening. Like I said, the plot’s a work in progress.

And that’s that! I don’t know how much I’ll talk about these guys here, since the colorverse story has been on my back burner for a LOOOOONG time, and I still want to get through Feilan in the next century. But I wanted to introduce them, so I could talk about them without confusing literally everyone. They’re my second-oldest set of OCs after the fairies and I care about them quite a lot. 

[totaldramafan-lauri]

Yup.

There are a few reasons I took so long to get to this. The first is that I heard that it wasn’t like Subspace Emissary, which was what I thought we were getting from the trailer. The second is that I much prefer playing Smash multiplayer than single player, so whenever I’d get on, I’d usually play Classic, unlock a character (or two) really quick, then jump straight to Wifi. XD But the biggest reason? Spla2n. Whenever I’d sit down to play a game, I’d usually default to that one. I’m still getting used to balancing between two favorite games, and when one of those games has Splatfests, Salmon Run, and frequently rotating stages and modes, that’s the one I’m gonna wanna play more. XD

But, recently, I’ve really wanted to finally play World Of Light, so last night, I finally decided to take a break from Spla2n and do just that. I know, I know, me, take a break from Spla2n? GASP!! But I’m pretty sure I can handle it. XD I’ll keep up with it in the meantime so I don’t miss any wildcard Salmon Runs, and the next Splafest won’t be for a couple weeks, so this IS a good time for it. Also, I’m gonna play Spla2n on weekends just so I can stay at least a BIT in practice (as charger mains need to do).

But for now, I’m gonna tackle this really massive part of Smash that I’ve neglected up till now...

To get this outta the way, YES, it does bother me that there aren’t any cutscenes of the characters interacting. The one at the beginning was gorgeous, really cinematic, so they coulda made more! But they didn’t. Bummer...but not a complete deal-breaker. This is Smash, after all...

So, this Spirit system! When I first started, I wasn’t sure what to make of it. It kinda reminded me of how in Subspace, you could put stickers on your characters’ trophy stands to give them different buffs and effects when you use them. Except here, it’s not character-specific, and they also put a LOT more emphasis on it rather than having it be completely optional. I like my characters as they are, so given the opportunity I’d just use them completely vanilla, but I figured “why not” and decided to give Spirits a try.

And...I was pleasantly surprised! It’s a good mechanic! It adds a bit more strategy to the fighting while also not being TOO complicated - you just pick a primary Spirit and one or more supporting Spirits (based on how many slots the primary Spirit has) and they stack, simple as that. There’s also a level up system for primary Spirits, so if one seems weak, you can make it stronger!...Or you can be like me and just use your most powerful ones from the start. XD The whole rock-paper-scissors thing they got going on with Attack, Throw, and Defense is also neat, making it so that you have incentive to rotate out primary Spirits instead of sticking to one favorite the whole game. It’s just a very well-designed system, and I like it!

My current favorite Spirits are Octoling for Defense, Tron Bonne for Throw, and Charmander for Attack (though I’d like a better Attack one). Octoling was one I started with, so it’s the strongest so far, but Tron Bonne is catching up really quickly - she has three slots on her, and being a Throw Spirit means that she’s the one I used in....a certain fight I got stuck at, and she kept leveling up from that. XD

As for characters, I’m REALLY happy that Kirby is the one you start with, since I’m....decent with him. Not the best, I mainly use him when I’m not feeling competitive, but he’s a lot of fun, and very user-friendly. I’ve also rescued Villager! I had a choice whether to save him, Marth, or Sheik, and I chose him because he’s a character I use fairly often. I didn’t know that the other two choices get cut off from you, though, so I really should’ve gone for Sheik, as she’s a character I have yet to unlock, but...for now, she’ll have to wait.

So, I’ve been cycling between Kirby and Villager - two characters that I LIKE, but aren’t MAINS particularly, and each Spirit I face has a unique twist. Some matches are stamina matches, which is a mode I barely ever think about, let alone play, and I particularly got a chuckle out of Snake Man puppetting a team of Snakes. XD But, by FAR, the one that stuck out the most to me, and the only one I’ve lost so far, is the fight against Fiora. That fight GAVE ME HELL, and considering it’s in the FIRST AREA, that really gives me a sense of foreboding for what’s to come....I mean, YES I’m gonna save characters I’m better with down the line, but what if the Spirits step up their game at the same pace I am!? It’s game design!

But anyway, Fiora. In her fight, she’s puppetting Lucina and has a Shulk assisting her. I had on Tron Bonne due to her being a Defense Spirit, and equipped a supporter that gave me resistance against melee weapons, and another supporter that boosts my damage when I’m badly hurt. Sounds like I’m well-equipped, right? But the gimmick of the fight was downright BRUTAL - after a while, your defense lowers, and it’d keep lowering again and again the longer you stay alive. IT. SUCKS. ESPECIALLY as characters who are already lightweight! And Lucina and Shulk are no joke either, Shulk especially with his Monado Arts! So I lost about a dozen battles as both my characters, decided to quit and go another way, came back later, lost a bunch AGAIN, and only after I had defeated nearly every Spirit in the area and came back a third time did I FINALLY win. I won as Kirby, and I’m not sure how I did it other than....I adapted. Simple as that. Also Final Cutter. =P

Hopefully my future posts won’t be as rambly as this. I just wanted to explain how I feel about the gameplay and THEN talk about my experiences.

Also, after I finished for the night, I got challenged by Peach, and beat her pretty easily as Villager (I’m yellin’ TIMBEEEERRRR!) so, yeah, I got another unlock, and I didn’t even free her, I just got her by PLAYING WoL. Eh, not that it matters to me. I don’t use Peach. She’s fine, has some good tools and all, but my distaste for her as a character is why I don’t use her.

Progress so far: