#and only rarely virtual motion sickness

[pleasantanathema]

Dirty Old Man

Pairing: Kenny Ackerman x Fem!Reader

Rating: Explicit (18+ Only)

Warnings: Dubcon themes in the beginning (it’s later all consensual), Knifeplay (to remove clothing), Captivity/Kidnapping, Slapping, Daddy Kink, Some Assplay, Gagging (on fingers), Choking, One mention of blood, A little bit of bondage, Rough Sex, Dirty Talk, Age Gap, Kenny is a dirty old man.

Word Count: 5.5k

A/N: It’s late, but it’s here! Here’s my part to the Smut Pile’s Western Collab! Please heed the warnings. Kenny is disgusting and I’m disgusting but here we are, fucking Kenny.

           “I told you to stop running away. I’m gettin’ real fuckin’ tired of chasin you down.” Kenny spit the words out like poison, crouching in front of you to place the tip-end of his knife against your corseted chest as a warning.

           You attempted a protest, but the makeshift gag made out of a torn piece of your skirts kept you virtually silent. Your wrists were burning, the rope around them scratching against your skin behind your back. The inn he’d taken you to for the night was damp and dirty, the floor you were tossed into reeking of piss and sour bourbon.

           He had come for you again. You’d had some wistful doubt that he wouldn’t, but like always, he’d tracked you down as easily as hunters do footprints in thick snow. He’d followed your trail and bound you with that thick rope of braided hemp he always kept at his side. Evading him was never easy, but you thought you’d gotten away with it this time when you’d found a meager orphanage to cook at. He hated children—you thought he’d never set foot in the place, but reckoning had come for you in the early hours of the morning, with a dark shadow moving in the corner of the kitchens.

           “You never fuckin’ learn. Maybe this time I’ll teach you a lesson you won’t forget.”

           The sharp point of his blade dug into your clothes, the cutting edge purposefully situated between featherbone channels so it could slice at cotton threads.

          You swore against the cloth in your mouth, your curses soaking into the spit-damp fabric. He hooked a finger under the gag digging into your cheek, pulling at the material with a smirk.

          “Got something to say, kid?”

          Slowly, he pulled the torn cloth from your mouth, your head twisting to shake away strings of drool that had attached to the textile.

          “Maybe I like the chase, Kenny,” you hissed out his name, not bothering with the Mr. Ackerman bullshit you’d called him at home.

          He had once been a rather removed presence in your life; he was just that outlaw in the corner who did the terrible things the rich families in your town had the money but not the gall to do. But now he’d become the bane of your existence, the dark thread that always pulled you back into the oppressive home life you were running from. He never seemed to care. If anything, he seemed to take a sick joy in finding you quicker each time you snuck out and ran in a new, farther direction.

          “So we’re on a first name basis now, huh? Good, cause we’re about to get real intimate.”

          “You could make this real fun and actually untie me.”

          “I’m not untying you, ain’t fucking happening. I didn’t spend weeks tracking down a stupid maiden for her daddy for you to run off into the woods the moment I turn my back to piss.”

          You winced a little at his harsh words, still very aware of the cold steel carefully skating through the middle of your chest. The threads of your corset were popping and curling back toward the bone linings.

          “I’m not some fragile maiden.”

          “I don’t give a fuck what you ain’t, what you are is a big pain in my ass. I don’t get paid enough for this shit, so I’m takin’ what I’m owed.”

          The reality of your situation settled in when you felt cool air sweep across your freshly exposed breasts. Your initial thought was to kick him, but when you felt him dig the blade a little too deep into the clothes at your belly, you hesitated. One wrong move and he could be slicing you open accidentally.

          Your wrists pounded with lack of blood flow as you painstakingly tested the knots for slack again. Of course, there wasn’t any. He’d probably tied up hundreds of unfortunate souls in his miserable lifetime.

          A thrill raced across your skin as you heard the knife clatter into the floor, Kenny peeling away the layers of split clothes on your body like he was prudently opening the petals of a rare flower.

          “Well, well, look at you, kid.”

          Grey eyes swirled with mirth and mischief under the brim of his hat, a wicked smile curling across bearded cheeks.

          You felt vulnerable and far too hot, the heat of embarrassment licking over your chest, up your neck, burning at your ears. Worse, blazing excitement was pooling between your legs, the dull thump of pleasure beginning to pound in your head.

          A calloused hand began to paw at the fat of your breast, testing the weight of it in his palm.

          “You’re a fucking pervert.”

          “Never said I ain’t.”

          He flicked your nipple with his comment, chuckling as you gasped. The slight twinge of pain sent a jolt of lightning down your spine, making your fingers dig into the thick rope at your wrists and your head tilt back against the wall. Kenny repeated the motion, rubbing his warm thumb over your nipple before flicking it again. You sucked in a quick breath, making your lungs expand and breasts inch closer to his hands.

          “You like that?” He teased, a finger tracing the sensitive underside of your breast.

          “No.”

          He laughed, “Liar. Your pretty nipples are harder than my cock.”

          Kenny proved his point by cupping both your tits and making you moan, back arching toward him instead of away. Seeing the opportunity, he moved in closer, making the remnants of your skirts bunch around your hips as he pressed himself between your legs. You turned your face away from him when he dipped down to kiss you, making his wet lips and wiry beard press into the curve of your throat.

          He sucked at the tender flesh of your neck, teeth and growls gently scraping against skin.

          “What’s my pa going to think about you taking advantage of me like this?”

          You knew you made a good point—unless Kenny had decided to pack some petticoats and powder into his saddle bags, he couldn’t cover up the carnage he was creating.

          “I’m your daddy for tonight, kid. Maybe if you’re good I won’t even take you home this time.”

          “Really?” You knew your voice portrayed your enthusiasm, but you couldn’t help it. You’d do anything to be free of your family and go make a life of your own.

          Kenny took his time thinking over his response, too busy licking and sucking at the delicate column of your throat. It felt good, too good, even the scratch of his beard had you holding back whimpers. His long fingers were still groping your tits, thumbs rhythmically petting over your peaks.

          You felt like you were engulfed in flames, like the hellfire and brimstone that bible-thumpers warned about were taking over your senses. All because of fucking Kenny Ackerman, the dirtiest old man you’d ever come across.

          Though you’d be lying if you said you hadn’t imagined something like this before, it was hard not to when most of your time had been spent tied up on a saddle with him. The pervert always had the audacity to have his half-hard erection pressing into your lower back as you shifted on the smelly horse. It was difficult not to imagine how it would feel to have him inside of you when the horse’s trot had his cock sliding too perfectly against your ass. You’d spent a few nights imagining how he would manhandle you, rough and impatient, and far more skilled than the boys you’d fooled around with.

          Kenny was a dirty old man, but you had no doubt he could fulfill every naughty fantasy women like you weren’t supposed to dream about.

          You shifted forward a bit, draping your thighs over his so you could get closer, press your aching core against that familiar stiffness in his trousers.

          “I’ll be a good girl, daddy,” you let the name roll off your tongue as you tilted your face down to his, “I promise.”

          You sealed your vow by pressing your mouth to his, a victorious frisson tingling at your nerves when he groaned into your lips. His kiss was rough, one of his hands snaking up to your neck with a vice-like grip to keep you from changing your mind. It made your vision go blurry behind your eyelids, grey spots dancing in the corners of your lashes. He tasted like booze and smoke, remnants of his addictions tainting your tongue. But you kept up with his pace, eager to show him that you would be good, that you wanted this, that you’d let him have you. Even if he did take you back home anyways, at least you’d get a thrilling fuck out of this arrangement.

          “You ain’t never been a good girl,” he rumbled against your lips, “daddy’s gonna have to teach you how to behave.”

          You gasped when he used his leverage on your neck to push you farther into the creaking boards of the wall. Your wrists were trapped between your back and the floor, going more numb by the second. He caged you in completely, had you sitting in his lap with his cock pressed against your damp drawers and one hand tangling into the mess of your skirts.

          “Women and all their fucking clothes,” he snarled down at your half-dressed body. Your eyes went wide as you noticed him reach back for the discarded blade, his other hand still content to press against the sides of your neck.

          “W-wait, I don’t have anything else to wear!”

          “You ain’t going to be needin’ em anyways, kid.”

          Time slowed down like the creeping slush of molasses as you watched Kenny begin to slice through your dress and petticoat, each tug of his wrist sending cotton fibers spilling into the floor. You could feel your heart pounding in your chest and sweat beading on the back of your neck every time the spine of the knife grazed the freshly exposed skin of your thighs. You struggled against the rope and the hand holding you back when he began to cut through the length of your drawers. The blade was too close to your intimate places, grazing against your sweltering flesh and making you whimper.

          “I ain’t gonna cut you, darlin. As much as I wanna carve my name into your skin, I couldn’t stand hurtin’ you.”

          You swallowed thickly and he must’ve felt it, his thumb petting at your neck like he was trying to soothe a scared animal. He stopped cutting at your clothing, lifting his pointed chin so he could look up into your face. He grinned, soft but still wolfish, wrinkles gathering at the corners of his eyes.

          “Gimme a kiss, it’ll make you feel better.”

          You complied, perhaps too happily, slanting your mouth against his and moaning at the rough feel of his black hairs against your cheeks.

          Kenny ripped the rest of the threads from your body with his strong fingers, finishing the work that the knife had started. A weight was lifted off of you when your heavy skirts and the skeleton of your corset finally slipped into the floor to be forgotten. He took particular care in relieving you of your cotton drawers, the shadow of his hat obscuring his face as he marveled at the juncture of your thighs.

          “Look at that pretty pussy, all wet and sloppy just for me.”

          You cried out when he brushed a knuckle between your dripping folds, finger slowly uncurling so it could prod at your tight hole.

          “You always get this wet when you’re around me?”

          “Hard not to when you’re always groping me like some animal.”

          His gaze flickered back up to you, the mixture of a frown and a smirk tugging at his lips. He pressed his palm more firmly against your windpipe, making you choke.

          “Don’t know why I bothered to ungag your smart mouth.”

          “I’ll be goo—” you didn’t have the chance to finish your plea, his long fingers uncurling from your neck only for two of them to abruptly slide past your open lips. Your eyes watered a bit from the thrusting motion of his digits and you could feel your moans vibrate against his skin. He started to push his fingers farther into your mouth, seeing how far he could go before your throat tightened, smirking the whole time. His skin tasted like rawhide and copper, like leather and blood, and you breathlessly traced your tongue along his slim knuckles.

          “Your mouth looks better stuffed,” his other hand resumed teasing your lower lips, “Let’s see how many fingers you can take.”

          You almost bit the knuckles in your mouth when he shoved his middle and index fingers into your tight cunt. You muffled out a squeal, eyes rolling shut when a wave of pleasure splashed over your body with the timing of his fingers pushing inside of you. He wasted no time in stretching you, spreading his strong fingers as he withdrew and pressed back inside of you over and over again.

          Your tongue went still and flat in your mouth, spit pooling around slim fingers that still pressed farther back into your throat with every thrust of his hand between your legs. You could practically hear him grinning like a madman with both of his calloused hands pressing into two of your wet holes. You sucked around his fingers when he touched a sensitive, fleshy patch inside of you, fingers curling against your walls and stroking the spot repeatedly.

          Weightless, you felt weightless in Kenny’s lap, like each thrust of his fingers into your mouth and pussy was sending you higher into the clouds. Even your own fingers had gone limp behind you, no longer clinging to their binds.

          “Not bad, kid. How about another?”

          You screamed around his hand when his ring finger stretched your opening wider, your pussy burning from its invasion. He laughed, a sadistic rumble from his chest that vibrated against your tits. At the feel of your cry, he pushed the fingers against your tongue even farther down to the back of your mouth, making you fight your gag reflex and sputter. Spit was falling from the corners of your mouth and you could feel your slick drooling down your thighs and onto his pumping wrist between your legs.

          “Good girl,” he praised, picking up his already merciless pace, “daddy’s got a big cock, need you to be ready for it.”

          Kenny groaned when you nodded your head, eyes fluttering open to catch his gaze. Some twisted pleasure brewed in your lower stomach as you noticed his lopsided grin, pearl white teeth bared over his full lips.

          “I bet you look so fucking pretty when you cum. Think you can? Can you cum from an old man stuffin’ you full of fingers, darlin?”

          You shivered at his words, your thighs shaking as you felt like you were being pulled apart. The three fingers inside of you knew exactly how to make your head go fuzzy and your nerves wild with pleasure, and it only got more intense when his thumb began to circle your already aching clit. You whimpered around his fingers, finding a momentary reprieve when he pulled them from your lips and admired the drool flowing over his knuckles. But he slid them back in after you caught a quick breath, pumping them at the same speed as the fingers buried into your cunt.

          It was like you were brimming and boiling over with the taste and feel of Kenny. Your mind could barely keep up with the shots of ecstasy stemming from your belly, your toes curling against the cold floor, your wrists rubbed raw from rope. Your lower muscles were starting to clench, spasm, shake, and he groaned.

          “Fuck you’re gettin’ tight. But I’ve got one more place to try.”

          Your brows scrunched together when you felt his ring finger slip from your pussy, only to feel his slim pinky finger prod at the tight pucker of your ass.

          “Kemmy, mf, umph,” you struggled to speak with his fingers stuffed in your mouth.

          You finally bit against his skin when you felt the length of his smallest finger slither into your ass.

          The new sensation rocked you, had you gasping and leaning forward and gagging on his fingers and cumming all at the same time. You screamed as you felt your asshole tighten around his digit, the pleasure of it sending you raring into bliss at full force like you’d just been slammed into a wall. It felt so fucking good, every hole stuffed with him, every muscle clenching and unclenching as he had the nerve to laugh at how easily you came from feeling a finger in your ass.

          “Heh, seems you like that, don’tcha?” He let you ride out the remnants of your orgasm for a few moments, fingers still and just feeling you contract around him.

          Finally, he worked on setting you free of his hold. He took his time with it, each finger sliding out of you painfully slow like he was slowly uncorking a pent-up bottle of champagne. With your mouth free first, you took your time breathing and gathering your wits, looking down into the floor as shame crept over your body. It was all so nasty and dirty, and when he pulled his fingers out from between your legs, you knew all you wanted was more of it.

          “Fuck,” you breathed, surprised when he lifted your chin and placed a rather chaste kiss against your messy mouth.

          “I take it you’ve never had somethin’ in your ass?”

          “N-no, but it…”

          “Feels good, yeah?”

          You shot him a suspicious look, “How would you know?”

          “I’ve been around, kid.”

          Kenny groaned as he sat back, moving you off his lap.

          “My knees are too fucking old for this. Get on the bed.”

          You didn’t know how you could. Your legs felt like pudding and your hands were completely numb behind your back. Kenny walked to the corner of the small bedroom, pulling his suspenders down so he could toss his shirt into the floor. You struggled to move, eyeing the knife in the floor carefully so you didn’t accidentally cut yourself as you fumbled like a little fawn gaining her legs.

          You enjoyed the feel of standing for a moment, leaning back against the wall in all your sloppy nakedness as you watched Kenny dip his hands into the wash bin.

          This was the last thing you expected when you woke up this morning. You’d been free, ready to get started on a cornbread and bean breakfast, only to be kidnapped before you could even lace up your shoes. Now you were watching Kenny Ackerman get undressed and hang that signature bowler hat on the back of the door.

          He looked better without the hat. In fact, he looked so much better naked.

          He had sun kissed skin on his arms and neck from working in the sun, lean sinews of muscle carved over his chest, his thighs. He was dusted in wiry black hair, like someone had taken ash from a fire and doused him in it. And his cock was hard and proud between his legs, long and curved up toward his stomach. Your ego spiked at the thought that you’d made him that way; you were the reason his swollen head was leaking and twitching.

          “Can I touch you now?”

          “What?” He looked puzzled, running a hand through his dark, shoulder length hair. It looked longer than when you last saw him.

          You moved toward him on still shaky legs, making a show of pulling at your hands bound behind your back.

          “Shit, I forgot you were tied up. But you gotta promise me when I cut you loose you ain’t just gonna sprint out that door.”

          “I don’t have any clothes, Kenny.”

          He laughed genuinely at that, scratching at the back of his neck. He’d have to remedy that tomorrow, go out and buy you something to wear so he didn’t parade you around town naked as the day you were born.

          You stayed still as he reached for that big knife of his on the floor, settling up behind you to start gnawing the blade through the thick rope. Your shoulders felt at ease when you felt the slack begin to set into your binds, the last bit of hemp audibly slicing away. You pulled your hands in front of you, immediately rubbing at the raw spots on your wrists. They’d be bruised tomorrow, scab over by the next day.

          Kenny wrapped his arms around you from behind, hands first skimming over your shoulders and upper arms.

          “If you didn’t have such a bad habit of runnin’, I wouldn’t have to do that to you, kid.”

          “You’d run away if you had my life, too.”

          You knew you didn’t need to fill in the blanks for him. He’d been around long enough to know the ins and outs of your story.

          “Suppose I would.”

          He kissed your neck as he walked you to the bed, turning you around so he could crawl up the naked expanse of your body as you laid back against the hay stuffed mattress.

          “Someone as pretty as you don’t deserve someone like me chasin’ after you.” But his confession didn’t stop him from settling between your thighs and bending down to suck one of your nipples into his eager mouth. You moaned, elated to have your hands free so you could tangle your fingers into his long hair.

          “I told you,” you gasped when he bit into your skin hard enough to leave marks, “I like the chase.”

          He licked a long, hot stripe between the valley of your breasts before bringing his face back to yours. You kept your hands in his hair as he leaned down to kiss you, all brute force and greedy tongue like you’d gotten used to before. You were just as hungry for him, your body feeling fresh and ripe after your orgasm and ready to be filled again. You bit at his lower lip, smirking when you got a reaction from him. Your tongue began to map the insides of his mouth, letting the taste of him overwhelm you.

          Kenny was impatient, gripping your hips and spreading you apart again.

          “I like you better when you’re submissive.” He murmured into your mouth, skilled fingers spreading your pussy so the fat head of his cock could rub against you.

          “I said I would be a good girl, daddy.”

          His head dropped to your shoulder with a groan, “I can’t fucking handle you calling me that, kid.”

          “Oh yeah? Is me calling you daddy going to make you cream early, old man?”

          He slid his cock inside of you rough and fast to shut you up. Your head fell farther back against the pillow as you mewled, his fingers still having not prepared you for the feel of his stretching you open. Your walls were snug against him; you could feel every throbbing vein under his silken skin dragging against your insides as he pulled out and pushed into you slowly.

          Each thrust had euphoria blooming from your stomach and spreading across all your extremities. It was like you could suddenly feel everything, the pleasure making the world around you sharpen. Kenny was breathing hotly into your neck, your nipples were painfully hard and sliding against the dark, downy hairs of his chest. Your fingers were coming back to life, your nails scraping against the greyed roots of his hair. Your toes were curling in the air, your thighs and hips burning from bearing the heaviness of Kenny between them. Both your heart and his were beating fast, blood pumping as if in the same drumline together.

          “Fuck you feel so fucking good,” he drawled, “s-so fucking soft, so tight.”

          Little sounds were leaving your parted lips, eyes struggling to stay open as each plunge of Kenny’s cock was engulfing you with ecstasy. He was starting to get a bit punishing with his movements, moving hard and fast inside of you and making you forget yourself. His nails were biting into the fatty flesh of your hips, where half-moon marks would surely adorn your skin in the morning. You’d have hickies on your neck too, especially now as he sunk his teeth into the tender spot where your throat met your shoulder.

          God it felt good to be used, to be wanted. And you knew Kenny wanted you, he’d even said he wanted to carve his name into your skin. Something inside of you told you that he’d want to own you, if you’d let him. You caught a lot of his longing gazes before, whether in the back of the saloon he frequented or the ridiculous dance halls your family drug you to. You’d often wondered if he would fuck you against a wall if you tempted him to, and now you had your long-awaited answer.

          “Oh daddy,” you purred, both purposely and not, little oh’s and mhm’s following behind.

          The name spurred Kenny into a new gait. He shifted back onto his knees swiftly, the same hand from before resuming its chokehold on your neck. You moaned at the familiar contact, the sound trapped behind his spread fingers. He had more power behind his hips from this angle, sending his cock deeper into your depths and into places his long fingers couldn’t reach from before. Your eyes squeezed shut, tiny gasps all that could be formed behind the wall of his hand.

          “Who knew you were such a little slut, darlin. Might keep you around after all.”

          Your tits were bouncing in rhythm with his relentless assault, your hands now fisting into the feather pillow next to your face.

          “F-fucking shit, I—” you were going stupid, is what you were. Your tongue felt heavy in your mouth and your brain felt foggy in your head.

          “You’ve got such a dirty mouth on ya,” Kenny put more pressure behind the fist around your neck, the lack of oxygen making it even harder to think than before, “you really do need a daddy to teach you some, fuck, s-some fucking manners.”

          All you could do was nod, completely lost to the feeling of him encompassing you, filling you.

          His free hand pulled at one of your limp legs, hoisting it up and over his shoulder. He smothered your skin with wet kisses, nipping at your ankle and chuckling when he felt the bubbled squeal beneath his palm. The hair on his torso tickled the back of your thigh, adding a new layer of sensation that you didn’t think you could handle. It was too much—Kenny was too much, fucking into you like a feral beast that just got his first taste of sweet flesh.

          “You’re never gettin’ away from me again,” he hissed out between gritted teeth, “you’re mine now.”

          You couldn’t think to respond. Kenny unwrapped his hand from your throat, letting that blood flow return to your head.

          “You hear me?”

          You opened your mouth to speak, but no sound came out. All you could focus on was the drumming of his cock hitting your insides, the wet, squelching sounds of your pussy sucking him in.

          The sound of him slapping his hand across your check registered before the pain did. You gasped as your head swung with the force, the side of your face smarting with a throbbing sting.  

          “Say you’re mine, kid.” Seriousness laced his tone, those dangerous, long fingers grasping at your jaw and pulling you to look at him. He leaned forward, curling your leg with him, making you groan at the pleasure and pain mixing as he tested your flexibility. He kept moving inside of you, pace never faltering.

          “Fucking. Say. It.”

          Your heart was racing with adrenaline, a strange concoction of fear and bliss spreading over your consciousness.

          “Y-yours,” you croaked out, wetting your lips with your tongue, “I’m yours, Kenny!”

          You didn’t mean to scream it, but it seemed to please him, that lecherous grin of his spreading over his lips.

          “That’s fucking right. I own this tight, pretty little pussy.”

          He released your jaw only to slap you again, quicker and softer this time, and you moaned the moment he made contact.

          “You like getting slapped around?”

          You turned your face back to him, smirking through the sting, “yes, daddy.”

          The devilishness that swirled in his eyes made your stomach flip. He paused the movements of his hips, letting your cunt flutter and clench at his stilled cock. Your breathing picked up as you registered what was about to happen.

          Kenny hit you with the back of his hand this time, bony knuckles thumping with the quick flick of his wrist. Without his cock moving inside of you, all you could do was bask in the stinging pain left behind on your cheeks. It felt so wrong, but it made the coil in your belly tighten like never before.

          “F-fuck,” you moaned, your balled fists releasing the pillow.

          Without a second thought, you grabbed at his hair, jerking him down to meet your mouth.

          “You better cum inside me after that, daddy, I think I deserve it.”

          “Oh, you deserve it darlin,” he started pumping inside of you again, sending your head flying back and his mouth landing on the pulse of your neck, “gonna fill you to the fucking brim.”

          His movements were cruel, fast, cock ramming inside of you so harshly that you felt it all the way in your throat. Your hand slipped from his hair and found purchase on his back, nails scraping against sweaty flesh. You could feel his rough skin splitting, but you didn’t care, all that mattered anymore was the way his cock slid in between your gummy walls, the way he was moaning your name like a fucking prayer against your skin.

          Kenny’s thumb found your clit, swirling quick, brutal circles over your swollen bud. You could feel yourself clench around him, the sharp pleasure almost painful. You were going to explode. You were going to topple over in ecstasy and it was all because of the wickedness of the dirty old man inside of you.

          “K-Kenny, holy f-fucking god, I-I—”

          He must have felt it before you did. Hot ropes of cum were seeping inside of you the moment you hit the high point of orgasm. Your nails slid down the entirety of his back, slim, warm rivulets of blood following in their wake.

          It was like the bliss never ended. You were caught in the waves of it, each one cresting and falling over and over again as you milked his cock dry, slick and cum pooling between your thighs and soaking the linens.

          Your heart was hammering in your chest. Kenny placed a delicate hand between your breasts, like he was trying to slow it down for you. His small act made the world narrow in around you; the remnants of stinging pain and excruciating pleasure still hummed, but you fell into the quiet of just listening to the two of you breath for a few moments.

          Eventually, your toes went numb. You’d fully forgotten the poor leg that had been curled over his shoulder. You shifted to move, and Kenny got the hint, finally pulling his spent cock from inside of you and rolling over on his back.

          “Shit,” he hissed through his teeth, hand reaching over his shoulder as he met the mattress, “you’ve got fucking claws.”

          You had half a mind to apologize, but you didn’t bother, still basking in the afterglow of sex. Your body was tired, wrists still aching, thighs shaking.

          “You alright?” A warm hand found your cheek, even hotter lips pressing to yours in a soft kiss.

          “Mhm, more than alright.”

          “Didn’t know you had that in you, kid.”

          Kenny pulled you into his chest, long arm curling around your back. His fingers traced soft, swirling patterns on your hip, and you nearly shuddered as you remembered those were the same movements he’d used to abuse your clit. You curled one of your legs over his, needing to get closer, those pesky after-sex hormones and needs clawing at your instincts.

          It felt oddly like home to be pressed up against him, your face against his chest, one of your hands mimicking his and drawing circling in his damp chest hair. He smelled like home, anyways, like earth and spices.

          “You gonna take me home?”

          He was quiet for a second, pressing his lips into your hairline.

          “Nah, I’ll take you someplace safe. Maybe buy you a fucking train ticket so you can get out of this part of the world.”

          “You sure you don’t want to keep me?”

          “Now don’t fucking tempt me with that, kid.”

          “I wouldn’t mind being yours, you know.”

          “You don’t wanna be mine, even if I make you say that shit when I’m fuckin’ you.”

          You knew he was right, but you didn’t offer him an affirmation.

          Maybe you’d let him fuck you for a few more days before you ventured off on your own, maybe you’d convince him to chase you down a few more times just for the thrill of it. Maybe you’d wrap your fists around his suspenders and convince him to run away with you.

          You did like Kenny, after all. Even if he was such a perverted, disgusting old man.

[moonrazeeclipse]

Day at the Amusement Park.

The last time I went to an amusement park was when I was 12 years-old. My memories have been mostly shaky, but what I can remember was the happiness and joy I felt with my mother and father.

It’s been tough for me to have fun these days. Being a 23 year-old working a typical nine-to-five shift made it difficult to have time for myself. Stressed about the quotas, the numbers, job stability, and everything else in between. Good sleep has eluded me for months.

Then I look at my girlfriend, Nicha, and my hope has never been brighter.

Ah, Nicha. Everyone else knew and recognized her as Minnie, but the closest to her called her by her real name. If I thought an average office job was a grindfest, then hers was a gauntlet. Idol life meant she had to be up as early as 3 A.M. and she’d run through several sets of makeup, practice, interviews, and appearances. During one of her off days she and her members visited my building while I just so happen to be on coffee break. One funny stare and the next thing I knew, we were hiding our relationship from the whole world.

No matter how exhausted she got, she kept that same positive, happy energy as if she had unlimited battery life. Each occasional glance as I drove to the old amusement park, she was beaming, singing along to the songs on the radio, like she were a child. This was one of her rare off days where they didn’t have any schedules, so maybe that’s the reason why she’s extra joyful too.

The park itself hadn’t changed much since I last visited all those years back. The entrance looked rusted and devoid of any life or color. There seemed to be way fewer people visiting as well. Nicha offered to take me to that newer park with those virtual reality simulators, but I turned it down with a chuckle, saying that I wasn’t making enough money to spend a day there. Regardless, we entered the place, her hand holding mine, dragging me with the brightest smile on her face.

Whatever she wanted to do, I followed along. Nicha ran ahead of me, acting like a child and not a famous, recognizable idol. Being around me must be freeing for her; she could be herself when I’m with her. None of the rides were renovated or refashioned, which gave me that nostalgic feel. Because there weren’t that many visitors, waiting only took less than ten minutes for each ride. Despite my motion sickness, I powered through the first roller coaster without a problem. The second one? I recalled hurling up minutes after getting off that one as a child. Nicha screamed her heart out on the first coaster, but was overcome by fear on the second. She leaned into my chest while I was fighting every urge not to puke mid-ride. I sought a barf bag once we got off, making her laugh.

“Ahaha! You look hilarious!” Nicha mocked.

“Why are you gloating? Don’t act like you were hiding your face on my chest.” I retorted. She blushed in embarrassment before pretending to run away. No matter how much she loved to make fun of me, I couldn’t get upset. Her wholesome smiles made her a great person to hang out with.

Walking along the park, we came across a row of booths. These booths offered challenges in exchange for prizes. Dad won me a basketball as a reward back then. Even with age, one of the game masters somehow recognized me by my eyes.

“Hey, hey! It’s been a long time! You’re all grown now!” He said, calling my attention.

“Oh, hey. How did you recognize my face?” I asked, raising an eyebrow.

“You have your father’s eyes, that’s why! How’s he doing?” He changed the subject.

“Umm, great I guess.” I honestly didn’t know how to answer, since I haven’t spoken to him in years.

Nicha suddenly came in from behind and hugged me. The game master’s eyes lit up with excitement.

“Oh! Is this your girlfriend? Why don’t you step up and show her your father’s talent?” He challenged me on the spot. I sighed as Nicha moved right next to me. Her beaming eyes and bright smile gave me more pressure to do well.

I was poor at sports, so I wondered how bad I’d mess up at ring toss. I didn’t have deft hands like my dad, and I wasn’t practicing at all. I’m better with keyboards, I murmured under my breath as he gave me the rings. First toss. The ring hit the bottle. My eyes widened. Second toss. The bottle was a little more distant than the first. I threw the ring and to my surprise, it hit too. Shock drowned out my girlfriend’s cheers and the yell of the game master. One more ring, one more toss. The bottle was placed at a greater distance compared to the earlier ones. I was doing better than I thought, so maybe my luck would run out on this turn. I flung the last ring, and time seemingly slowed down as I released it from my grip.

One, two, three, four, five. Bingo.

Nicha hugged me in celebration. I made all three tosses as the game master applauded me. Wow. Honestly, that may have been divine intervention, considering how awful I am at these games. It must have been five minutes before I moved because I stayed frozen in place, unable to let my victory sink in.

“You do have your father’s genes in you after all! Go ahead and pick a prize.” The game master said, snapping me back to reality.

I turned to Nicha, implying that she could choose the prize. She took the hint and pointed at a gigantic brown teddy bear. The game master grabbed it from the shelf and handed it over to me. I gave the stuffed animal to her, and she buried her face on its belly.

“Aaahh it’s so fluffy! You’re really good at this, Minki!” She cuddled the bear as I just chuckled and waved goodbye to the game master.

The rest of our day at the park was just riding the rest of the attractions and eating an ice cream sandwich along the way. Nicha and I had so much fun together, refusing to let go of the teddy bear. The sun had set and nightfall came, and our time was almost up. But before we left, there was one more ride we hadn’t gone in. The ferris wheel.

The passenger cabins were suited for four people, so we hopped on one, including our stuffed animal. She placed the bear next to her as the wheel began moving. From where I sat I could see the bright lights of the highway, overlooking the specks of people thousands of feet in the air. Nicha looked out the window before turning to me, taking my hand.

“I’ve had so much fun with you today,” she said, caressing my hand gently and pecking it. “Thank you.”

I gazed into her eyes, gleaming brighter than the stars in the night sky. She stared back at me, looking at me the same way. Then something sprung in me to lock lips with her. Nicha sunk into the kiss, pulling me close and our tongues swirled with each other. She was sweeter and tastier than dessert. I cupped her cheek and she placed her palm on mine, running it across her face.

She broke the kiss and slowly spread my legs. I panicked a little because of the situation we’re in. Nicha feigned ignorance and unbuttoned my pants, pulling them down alongside my boxers.

“Nicha! We’re still in public, remember?”

“Your cock says otherwise,” she replied, slapping my hardened cock with her hand. “I’ve been missing you so much. I can’t help myself.”

She seized my balls, giving them a rub. “You’re full. You’ve been missing me too.”

I groaned as she kissed me from my balls, making her way up to my tip. Her soft lips felt so good on my shaft. She looked at me with widened eyes, satisfied with the pleasure she’s giving me. I slumped into my seat and closed my eyes, allowing the euphoria of her swirling tongue to override my brain. If that wasn’t enough, she added her sensual moans into her slurps, giving me tingles up my spine.

My hands flowed through her black locks, while the rest of my body just numbed in pleasure. I didn’t realize she took me in her mouth, hollowing her cheeks. Nicha bobbed her head back and forth, coating my shaft with her saliva. We didn’t care if anyone caught us in the lewd act. Nicha had her way with me and my body happily fell under control.

Pop. She released me from her mouth after blowing me off for a while. I was really sinking into that excitable feeling too. Appropriate timing too, as she finished up just as the car was about to reach ground level. I quickly buttoned up my pants as she pretended like she didn’t suck my cock leaving the pod.

We reached my car just as the park was closing, and she gave me a few pecks on the cheek. “When we get home, I wanna fuck you so bad.”

“Sure, baby. I’ll let you fuck me wherever you want.” The thought of her splayed body already riled me up and I couldn’t be any more excited to drive home.

I turned the key. Rough gruffs roared from the engine. Again. Gruffs. In frustration I slapped my hands against the steering wheel. The car couldn’t start. Fuck.

“I just had it checked last week,” I grumbled. It was second hand but I didn’t have any excuse. Nicha giggled. She was still smiling as she watched me suffer and curse my car out. Oh, no matter how terrible a day gets, you’re always the jovial one.

Conveniently there was a subway station nearby whose line started and ended at the park. We both got out of the car and decided to take the train home. Nicha still refused to let go of the teddy bear.

Entering one of the cars, we sat at the back end of the left row. All the walking wore our legs out, so I slumped down in my seat. Nicha set the bear at the corner chair before sitting beside me. Drowsiness began kicking in and soon enough, I fell into a deep sleep holding my girlfriend’s hand tightly.

I felt a sensation below my chest that woke me up. My eyes opened slowly, vision blurring my sight. I looked to my left and saw only the teddy bear. She probably went to the bathroom, I thought. I tried going back to sleep, but I felt that twitching in my stomach again. I looked down and to my surprise, my pants were on the ground. Nicha was on her knees, sucking my erect cock.

“Nicha! What did I say about doing this in public?” I whispered, trying to avoid causing a disturbance with the nearby passengers.

She responded by taking more of me into her mouth, making me moan with her humming sounds. “Mmph, I can’t help myself. Your cock rubbed on me as we slept.”

It took all of my willpower not to submit to pleasure, but I was able to scout the area. There weren’t a lot of people on this late train ride home, except a man wearing a business suit calling someone on his phone seated on the opposite aisle.

I slowly hopped from one chair to the next using the rail, keeping Nicha busy on my shaft without her letting go into it. My free hands lifted the stuffed bear from its seat and placed it to where I was sitting. The prized toy was huge enough to act as camouflage from unsuspecting train-goers.

“Yeah. Let’s discuss the business trip to Japan at the cafe. I’ll move up so you can spot me as I get off,” the man said as he stood up from his seat and trudged to the front.

I sighed a breath of relief, but that was only a temporary win. I looked below to see how Nicha was doing and my eyes widened. She stripped off her overalls as her bare legs were now exposed.

“Nicha!” I almost screamed, panicking at the situation she’d got us into. She giggles at my reaction before kissing my tip with her soft lips.

“While you were busy covering us up I took my overalls off. I really can’t wait for you to fill me inside.” She said matter-of-factly.

I groaned in annoyance but I couldn’t help myself. She was opening herself and I guess my patience ran out too.

“We still have a few more stops to go before our stop,” She added, stroking me with her fingers.

My psyche crumbled under her control again. I resisted her lips, but not her hands rapidly pumping my cock. I threw my head back and allowed the pleasure to jack my brain, grazing my hands on her hair again.

I must have drowned deeply to the delight of Nicha’s handjob that I ignored the dings and voice of the operator over the speaker indicating the train’s destination. My eyes, struggling to open, somehow caught a glimpse of a few new passengers entering the car. Quickly I bent over and took her overalls as well as my large coat and veiled my crotch. She continued jerking me off under the covers, eager to get me to orgasm. The commuters gave me either  weird or neutral looks as they walked by. I gave them a gaze of exhaustion, pretending as if I was ill. I just hope they didn’t notice the suspicious bulge below me.

Most of the travelers moved onto another cabin but some of them sat a few rows behind or ahead of ours. Thankfully none decided to sit in the same aisle as us. My hands, which were positioned on my lap, were grabbed by Nicha. She led it down to her clit and I felt her wetness. Even with some bush she was clearly dripping.

“Fuck me, please,” She whispered, each word laced with lust. “I’m so wet for you, babe.”

I hoisted her from the floor and she wrapped her legs around my waist as I rose for a minute before sitting down with her on me. I carefully lined my shaft against her crotch before burying my cock in her walls. She let out a lengthy, low moan as I started ramming into her tight pussy. My hands snuck through her shirt, pinching her taut nipples, making her squeal.

I could feel her juices cream my hair as I grinded back and forth, making sure she feels every inch of my length. One hand escapes her shirt to cover her mouth, preventing her from letting out wild screams. I pulled her face close to mine, her features indicating pleasure as our lips met for a shaky, passionate kiss.

As we continued making out my eyes caught a glimpse of a stewardess slowly making her way across the cabin, punching passengers’ tickets. I broke the kiss off and drove Nicha into my chest, bundling our bodies with her overalls and my coat. The attendant reached us, her formal smile shifting to a confused look at the weird image ahead of her.

“Oh I’m sorry, is she okay?” She asked matter-of-factly.

“Y-yeah. She’s just a little ill, so I’m warming her up, that’s all.” I answered, nodding repeatedly.

Nicha sold my act by freezing in my arms. I reached into my coat and pulled out two tickets. She punched them and smiled as she walked by, believing my lie.

My girlfriend looked me in the eyes, lust ridden over them. I squeal as her finger reaches my cock, still buried in her soaked cunt, stroking me off. Through the pleasant sensation I managed to keep my eyes alert, watching the passengers slowly leave one by one at the next stop. Now it was just the two of us in this cable car.

“We’re alone. Fuck me,” She said as the train started moving again.

Perhaps her eagerness drove me to thrust into her a lot faster than I thought. I rocked back and forth on the chair, drilling her with my shaft. Nicha closed her eyes and let the pleasure fill her, her mouth making a wide ‘O’ shape. At this point we ran out of care for our surroundings, made clear by our audible moaning. Her hands claw my nape and hair deeply, her slender figure bouncing up and down my lap.

The tightness of her pussy, as well as her soft, seductive moans made it hard for me to keep control. I was losing another round to her lewdness and this one would be the hardest of them all. I was all but ready to climax, only slowing down my pumps to keep the euphoria last longer.

“F-fuck, I’m going to cum,” I whispered.

“On me. Fill me, please. Fill me with your cum.”

One. Two. Three. With a heavy groan I reached my peak. I felt shots of warm semen fill her womb. I pumped through my orgasm, shooting flecks of cum in her until I was drained. My hips stopped grinding. I put my head down in exhaustion over that intense, risky session. She cupped my face then kissed me on the cheek.

“T-that was s-so g-good. I can’t wait until we get home for more.”

There’s a clear trail of white on my chair and on my pants. My cock slipped out of her slit as I set her down on the ground.

“This is the last station! Thank you for riding with us.” The operator announced over the intercom. We’re almost at our destination.

I pulled her overalls off my coat and threw it at Nicha. “Put these on, we still have to walk home.”

“I don’t wanna,” she pouted. “I want to go home with your cum dripping down on me.”

I sighed. Nicha decided to be bratty on the way home, when everything was almost perfect and after all we’ve been through. But what else can I do?

I gave her my coat as I took her overalls and placed it in my bag. We got off the train with her wearing my coat, our mixed juices still running down her legs. We enjoyed our little walk home, having forgotten the prized teddy bear that she was attached to all day long, but that didn’t matter. As soon as we reached home, we stuffed our bodies into each other throughout the night.

—————

And that’s my first work done. I didn’t do a lot of editing as I was excited to publish this one. I finally decided to jump into the world of smut writing after being inspired for a while now. Thank you for reading!

[woffordswords]

NieR Replicant (Part 1: History and Myth)

NieR Replicant begins with a boy, huddling in the corner of a derelict store, nestled in a ruined city totally devoid of any signs of life. We are told by expository text that this is summer, and yet snow falls from the sky and somber operatic vocals create a sense of sadness and loss, rather than one of rebirth and renewal. This is, we come to sense, a instance of humanity itself on the verge of extinction. The player takes control of the boy who, wielding a long metal pipe, fights off misshapen humanoid creatures who stagger forwards towards him, swinging heavy blades and displaying only an instinctual drive towards destruction. After the initial fight, the boy turns back and retreats to an aisle in the store where a young girl, his sister, “Yonnah”, lies in wait. She is sick, likely dying, and he is struggling to protect her from threats coming from without even as she is consumed by the disease attacking her from within. His struggle, we see, is a futile one. There is no help to be found, no medicine to give her, and no sustenance to aid them, save for a single cookie rescued from a tin by Yonnah while the player was fighting to protect her. In this moment of desperation, Yonnah resists her brother’s urging that she should eat the entire cookie herself and expresses a reciprocal love and concern for her brother and his health, insisting that they split the cookie in half. Love and a willingness to sacrifice in a time of crisis is here cemented as one of the game’s central themes. 

A jolt, the cookie falls to the floor as more enemies appear and another fight begins. The boy reaches out to a book, a tome of knowledge, a record of the past, in order to gain magical power necessary to fight off these invaders. He had previously resisted the book’s appeals to him, which were spoken out loud by the book to signal it’s magical sentience, but now succumbs to it. He had previously told Yonnah not to touch a similar book that lay by her side, but he chooses to make the sacrifice he wished to spare her from. We don’t really know the reason for the boy’s initial distrust of the tome, but it is clearly signaled. After defeating waves and waves of dark creatures, there is stillness and the boy returns to his sister only to find that she too, in this moment of desperation, had succumb to a temptation for the power to protect another that the book had signaled. But unlike the boy, whose covenant seems to have increased his strength greatly, the girl’s choice seems to have weakened her even further, bringing her closer to death. Running across her skin and emanating outward like inky discharge from an octopus are strange black words, which we will come to learn are the symptoms of a new disease, a sinister unprecedented threat to humanity that had emerged out of a moment in which salvation seemed, if not assured, at least possible for the first time. Holding his sister tightly, the boy screams to the heavens, pleading for help despite the impossibility that anyone will hear his cry.

This is the opening sequence of NieR and it is one that the player may or may not think about quite a bit as the play the game because it’s relation to the totality of the events that follow is evident and yet never fully made clear. The rest of the game takes place in a setting that is entirely removed from this opening sequence. We are told it is 1,500 years later, humanity has not disappeared, but has reverted to a pre-modern state, living amidst the ruins of modern civilization. What remains, curiously, to link us to that moment in the supposed past is the exact same boy and girl in a nearly identical situation. The girl is sick, the brother wants to help her all by himself. The girl, frustrated by her own inability to act, seeks out a higher power, this time a rare and beautiful flower that promises luck and wealth to any who obtain it. She searches in a ruined temple where she is overcome and falls into a magical coma, but the brother tracks her down and rescues her. However, upon their return home, the same dark words emerge from her skin, only now we have a name for the condition that produces them: “the black scrawl”. The boy knows of this disease as it is already running rampant throughout his world. What’s more, he knows that it is fatal. But a chance presents itself, an ancient book that speaks and grants magical powers is found at the site of the sister’s imprisonment. A legend of unknown providence tells of a struggle between good and evil, between light and dark, in which this book somewhat ambiguously holds the key to vanquishing a dark plague from the land. And so begins a quest, to fight the dark creatures, “shades” as we now know them to be called, that threaten this land so as to unlock the full power of the book with the aim that in doing so, eventually, the sister, and all the others who suffer with this strange disease, might be cured.

How is it that the exact same boy and girl came to be involved in such a similar situation, albeit in such a different context. They do not appear to know of their past life. Were they saved somehow, delivered from their impending demise, only to have to face it again? Many possibilities may spin through the players head, but ultimately the game chooses to leave this matter unresolved. We never learn how it is possible that the boy and the girls survived their ordeal, how they have come to exist over a thousand years apart from when we first witnessed them. And in the absence of such knowledge and in the repeated echoes of their story, as it recurs in elongated form in the game’s present, we come to understand that it only makes sense if we ascribe to it, at least partially, the status of myth. That is to say that we are not meant to understand these two sets of events within the game as causally connected, preceding from one to the other in the manner of history, but rather as a timeless and eternal cycle from which essential patterns of human existence can be observed and reflected on. 

The question of the relation between myth and history is thus entertained, but left open. We are led by the game to think about how these two symmetrical stories might be causally linked, but such a link is only alluded to and never fully substantiated. The passage from myth to history is essentially a sort of transcendence, a passage from one knowledge system to another. Such a transcendence is inherently unrepresentable because neither system of knowledge can account for the other within the limits of its own terms. This is a complicated way of saying that, for instance, once historical causality between two sets of events, one existing in the mythical past, the other in historical present, is established, the past events would cease to be mythical because their essential, timeless character would be invalidated. The only way this transition could be represented is if there were some way to figure the transcendence of humanity, or human consciousness, from one state of being/knowing to another.

In NieR, the basis for thinking causality between the opening’s mythical past and the main game’s historical present is through the transcendence of one reality for another. Specifically, a transition from a biological reality to a digital one. This possibility is conveyed to the player as the possible result of an experiment referred to as “Project Gestalt”. Put simply, Project Gestalt attempted to separate human minds from bodies because said bodies were failing, consumed by disease and thus no longer capable of supporting life. After human memories and consciousnesses were separated and preserved, they would be implanted into new bodies, known as replicants (in an homage to Blade Runner), which would be immune to the disease and thus capable of allowing human life to continue unabated. The many difficulties in conceiving how such as transformation of humanity would be possible (how is consciousness extracted, how are the replicants made, how are human consciousness and replicant combined) are eventually, in the game’s conclusion, resolved to the degree that it is implied that all that we have seen before us in the game’s main narrative has actually been playing out in a simulated, virtual world (which, in my mind still doesn't really resolve these questions, but it does make answers to them slightly more plausible given the godlike control that programmers have over virtual systems).

The transcendence of reality represented by Project Gestalt is plausible, but also unsubstantiatable. For us to acknowledge it as actually occurring, we must be willing to accept that the boy we witnessed in the game’s introduction was somehow able to save his sister, as well as humanity at large, by transferring their consciousness, as well as his own, from the reality that he had lived in to a simulated reality that he created (or that was created for him). This scenario is unlikely at best given what we see of him and his past, but not impossible. The game chooses to leave the connection between the events of the prologue and the main game unresolved. Thus, it figures this transcendence as a gap, or an abyss, in which the unthinkable can be thought, but not ascertained. 

However, even as it makes this specific passage from myth to history thinkable, it moves to invalidate it in a counter motion in order to keep the sense of it’s mythical, rather than historical, resonance alive. Once we become aware of the premise of Project Gestalt, as well as it’s limitation – it turns out that the new replicants bodies are themselves afflicted by the disease they were designed to protect humanity from – obvious contradictions begin to arise that threaten the coherence of the narrative of transcendence outlined above. Among these are the presence of the black scrawl, shades, and magic, things that make sense in a simulated world but not in a biological one, in the events of the game’s prologue. Furthermore, it is heavily implied that the cause of the black scrawl, of humanities impending extinction, is an incompatibility between Gestalt (the human consciousness preserved and implanted) and Replicant (the artificial body and receptacle). This incompatibility stems from the replicant’s own status as a form of intelligent life and manifests in the “devolution” and madness that occurs when two sentient entities, Gestalts and Replicants, are forced together, leading them to become Shades. If this is true, because the black scrawl and shades were already present within the prologue it is implied that the boy and girl from the game’s opening were already not the “original” human beings, but themselves composites of Gestalts and Replicants (or something like them) and thus susceptible to the black scrawl. This casts the events of the game’s prologue as already located in an uncertain cycle wedged between myth and history with its own past that remains inaccessible. While it’s possible to see this prior instance of the black scrawl as a metaphor for something else, the ruined cityscape and unnatural weather seem to suggest the figure of climate change as well as the underlying incompatibility between human and environment as the proto-form or ground for the later Gestalt-Human metaphor, the game is insistent on primarily representing this crisis, i.e. Shades and the Black Scrawl, in a manner that is identical to how it is represented in the game’s present. As such, a return to the game’s beginnings, even with the total knowledge of the game’s conclusion in hand, suggests the mythic structure of eternal recurrence and repetition more than it confirms a possible, but fraught logic of transcendence.

There is always a gap or an abyss that links myth and history and the speculative terms which we may use in the attempt to overcome this gap really also serve to open up further gaps about a deeper history that we still lack access to and to insist on a mythical ahistoricality that asserts its ever-presence. NieR is a game that is acutely aware of this paradox and the many ellipses and instances of logical imprecision that it includes throughout its narrative (beyond the one that I have focused on here the ways that it tells the story of it’s other main characters, notably Emil and his multiple transformations is a good example of another) are most productively understood in this manner. As such, as much as we may feel compelled (myself included) to criticize the game’s narrative by pointing to these details as plot holes or instead, to forgive them as instances where the player is expected to entertain the suspension of disbelief for the purposes of more immediate emotional gratification, I would argue that we do better to see NieR as carefully and compellingly articulating this mess of tangled cables that arises from the attempt to tell stories that can satisfy the timeless desire for enduring truth while simultaneously acknowledging our particular need for immediate logical coherence. They reflect a unique form of cultural desire for a particular sort of story that is able to balance the affordances of myth and history without succumbing to the logic of one or the other.

A more general account of this tendency would emphasize how common the preference for ambiguity is in modern art. This sort of ambiguity, where we’re not quite sure what framework to use to understand how the events in this story relate to each other is common in modern art and seems, most obviously, to reflect an anxiety or insecurity about the efficacy of our established systems for understanding the world around us, telling stories, and making meaning. I do think this makes sense in relation to NieR, since extinction and rebirth are themes that exist around a nexus of great anxiety and that knowledge in the game and the human relationship to it is a specific site of specific anxiety for many of the characters in the game’s narrative. However, more specifically, I would also account for the significance of this desire in the following way: The game wants to tell a sort of mythical story about human extinction and rebirth, but it also wants to say something about its particular medium: the digital game/system. These two strains of desire are connected; something about digital games/systems in particular are connected with myths about extinction and rebirth. Additionally, something about digital games/systems gives them a stronger connection to a mythical worldview than what is typical in other media of modern art. I would argue that this likely has to do with the presence of the player and the role of their behavior in relation to the game/system which is both mythical in scope, repeated across many games and even repeated within a single game (like NieR), while also being particular to each game. Something that I’ve started to see as a recurring theme across several video games, including in Kojima’s Death Stranding, another game about extinction and rebirth, is that human beings are something akin to a different species when they are playing games (”homo-ludens” as they are referred to in that game). Thus, interacting with systems seems to imply something like extinction and rebirth for humanity in the eyes of some of their creators.

[dcschain]

MID-WORLD, AND AN APOCALYPSE (OR TWO).

TL;DR: While Roland, and all characters related to him, operate in what appears to be an adaptation of our world’s historical West, it is an interpretation of the West filtered through a post-apocalyptic lens. It combines the idea of the West as a dying thing, destined to be swallowed by the inexorable processes of time, with it being the last dregs of a world gone terribly, irreparably wrong. Roland’s West (represented, chiefly, by the gunslingers themselves) is not dying because of progress, a trope typical of neo-Westerns (looking at you, RDR2), but it is dying because the world itself is dying as a consequence of some great cataclysmic event which happened in the past. The threat is not the threat of progress (which annihilates the West anyway), but of a complete loss of self.

It’s known that Roland’s world is a dying world. In Stephen King’s own words: “The world had moved on since then. The world had emptied.” Things we’d think as normal, even typical of a Western setting are scarce. There’s barely any coaches or carriages, for example, and paper is as rare as clean water or non-mutated animals. Guns, rifles and bullets are scarce, too, especially following the fall of Gilead -- Roland is really the only one left with guns of note. Mid-World is certainly a twinner of the American West-- but it’s the West after the apocalypse. What’s even more important is to remember that there hasn’t been just one cataclysmic event that made Mid-World what it is, but two. One centuries before Roland was born, and one in his youth.��

The way these two apocalypses interact (or rather, interlock) shapes much of mine and @cllgood​‘s world-building. 

In neo-Westerns the slow end of the “Wild West” and its frontier values is heralded by the virtually inescapable march of modern progress. The key word is nostalgia: the West, uncivilised, violent, animalistic, must necessarily die in order for modernity to thrive, yet with its death comes the death of R/romance and heroism, a deep-rooted connection to nature that modernity, while necessary, will destroy. This is, of course, a false dichotomy: the nostalgia is for an idyllic albeit violent world that didn’t really exist, built on the backs of enslaved people and indigenous people: a violence narrativised as simplicity. The grizzled outlaw is in the West only because he was promised riches beyond compare, and those riches were to be taken from a land painted as virgin and untarnished -- never mind that people had been inhabiting it for millennia before the colonisation of North America began. (Good) neo-Westerns are aware of this idiosyncrasy and attempt to either resolve it or emphasise it, and usually achieve a mix of both, constrained as they are by their own cultural history, biases and writing.

“Progress”, in typical neo-Westerns, is the plot point that allows the audience to recognise that this advancement is, for better or for worse, ushering in a new age, most often technologically more advanced: steam engines, paved roads, transcontinental railways, so on and so forth. The loss of the untouched frontier (in and of itself, at least originally, an act of progress to tame the “savage” west) is a tragedy, but one that, for better or for worse, is acknowledged as both necessary and inevitable.

Post-apocalyptic fiction, on the other hand, can show us what that progress can wreak when left unchecked. The disasters that cause the wastelands that post-apocalyptic fiction populates are man-wrought, and often the result of a war, a nuclear accident, a massive polluting event. The post-apocalyptic genre serves as a criticism of the progress neo-Westerns try to grapple with -- and it isn’t a coincidence that some of the best post-apocalyptic books and movies rely heavily on neo-Western tropes, such as The Road and The Book of Eli.

The world of The Dark Tower is, obviously, part of the latter category: a post-apocalyptic world with a Western flair. Instead of being threatened by progress, Roland’s world is threatened by the fallout of not only its own hubris, but that of those who came before him and his people. The two apocalypses are both due to human error, and the second cannot exist without the first.

The first one is the one that, ultimately, sets the events of The Dark Tower in motion, and is grandfather to the second one. The Great Cataclysm is the reason Roland’s world is irradiated, crumbling and generally inhospitable. While not much, if anything, is known about what this Cataclysm was, the scars of it are ever-present, from traces of ancient technology much closer to our own (atomic batteries, monorails, robots) to the aforementioned widespread nuclear waste that causes most animals (and some people) to suffer the aftermath of terrible radiation poisoning.

And while it may have been cataclysmic in nature, it was not final, nor was it the death knell of the world. Recovery is slow: Arthur Eld, Roland’s ancestor, manages to pull the land together by the skin of his teeth, and unite it into what would eventually be known as All-World. He founds an order of knights, who then become the gunslinger order once guns are discovered, and who are tasked with protecting the land against chaos, man-made and magical both. This leads to a difficultly-held prosperity.

By the time Roland is born, it is abundantly clear that this prosperity, while instrumental to the gunslingers’ rise as the ruling class, is fleeting at best, and destined to crash and burn at worst. Gilead, the seat of the gunslingers’ power and the ancestral seat of Eld’s throne, is the only true city left. Things we take for granted, and which were taken for granted in the American 19th and early 20th centuries, are scarce or entirely absent: sugar, telephones, trains and paper, to name just a few.

Regardless of the nature of this prosperity, the long-term effects of the Great Cataclysm are inescapable. While Eld was able to unite the land, he lacked the tools to cure it, as did every ruler after him. The land was poisoned by the Old Ones then, and it remains poisoned now: a fact which, with the passing of centuries, was less and less central to the gunslingers’ understanding of their own power. The sickness of the land is what causes the class disparities in Mid-World. The discontent that Walter o’Dim uses to stoke the fires of revolution in Mid-World is not misplaced, quite the contrary: where New Canaan is still prosperous, the barony is not generous with its boons, and the rest of the kingdom must make do with what it has.

The revolution that culminates with the complete eradication of the gunslingers and their way of life causes what is known in-universe as a “beam-quake”. Great events of massive importance either strengthen or weaken the beams which hold up the Dark Tower (and, therefore, reality itself). The fall of Gilead is an upset of such magnitude that the Eagle-Lion beam breaks as a consequence of it.

As the beam is now broken, so reality in Mid-World begins to fully falter. The beam-quake is the second apocalyptic event, and one that is a direct consequence of the first. The land was poisoned by the Old Ones, and the gunslingers that came after failed to see how this fully pertained to them. In their hubris, they caused the Outer Baronies to starve and succumb even further to the inhospitable nature of Mid-World. While they are not at fault for the original pollution and nuclear waste, the gunslingers are at fault for ignoring it as long as they did. 

The beam-quake’s effects are immediate. Time begins to shift, becoming unreliable: days can pass in a moment, months can pass in what feels like decades, and so on and so forth. Space, too, is impacted, as north, west, east and south can shift at a moment’s notice. The barrier between worlds is thinner, and magic creatures, such as speaking-demons and apparitions, become more common. 

Where the Great Cataclysm was mostly an apocalypse of matter, the beam-quake is an apocalypse of philosophy. While the Great Cataclysm could be counteracted, to a certain extent, and was successfully contrasted by Arthur Eld’s actions, the beam-quake causes a complete breakdown not just of the people and their ideology, but of the very fabric of reality. There is no return from it and there is no going back from it, much like progress in neo-Westerns can never be stopped: the difference here, of course, is that it isn’t progress, but a slow, inexorable death.

The world moves on, but it moves on in a flat circle: the endless climb of technological advancement has been stilled. Roland navigates a world grappling with its own mortality, and, much like our West in the face of modern times, can scarcely find a satisfying answer. 

[jennikkugoesoff]

Exploring copy personalization via VR

Introduction

Hello, my name is Jen. Many of the current world are starting to take notice to the idea of Mario 64's personalization AI. Neither of these topics need introduction, You know what Super Mario 64 is and you know why you're here. I've been taking a recent interest into the study of how the game adapts over time to suit the player, and exactly how personal that personalization gets. I'm very familiar with the game, I know most of it's ins and outs, I've completed it multiple times on the original console.

And I can tell you yes, it is a fact.

Super Mario 64 is a personalized game. But it's not personalized in the way people think.

In most cases, I've found the personalization factor of the game is incredibly small, and it's more subtle than meets the eye. And it can only be achieved on original hardware (IE, the Nintendo 64, or an environment that perfectly simulates the Nintendo 64, on a composite monitor or TV), and, for our purposes it would ideally be with the original Japanese release (or as I call it, the J variant) rather than International (or as I call it, the ! variant). It doesn't make too much of a difference, but in the original release it's effects are more obvious, at least for English-speaking players or players with English as their first language.

For instance, an English-speaking player will have slightly negative or empty feelings throughout the game while playing the J Variant on original hardware, similar to those felt in Wet-Dry World in the international release. Likewise, non-English speaking players will feel the same negative aura playing an international copy. I haven't yet studied the relationship between the International and European copies or Japanese and European copies though, which could definitely be something to look into, these same emotional auras could very well carry over.

The reason it can only be achieved on original hardware is because personalization was outright removed from other releases of SM64. Starting with the Shindou release, all subsequent versions of Mario 64, such as the iQue and Wii Virtual Console release, as well as the Japanese, North American and European versions commonly circulated through emulation and rom websites, and consequently what most, if not all of SM64 Hacks, mods and ports are built off of, have personalization outright removed, or altered in such a way to be unnoticeable. I'm not sure if this would extend to SM64DS or not, but the games seems similar enough that cognative proccesses line up in a similar fashion. Something I have noticed in my research is that skeptics of the Personalization AI often come off the heels of having played Modern versions of SM64 rather than the original versions. 

Although to what extent I can't be sure, it's entirely possible that playing these modified ports of SM64 could lead to differences in brain activity that affects the way personalization works, specifically to the extent that playing copies of SM64 without the original personalization factors intact leads to an 'immunity' of sorts to it. The learned responses from playing SM64 emulated rather than on it's original console are subtle, but they're enough to cause differences. Given the personalization AI in general stems from the subtle differences between players, it would only make sense these 'learned behaviors' would alter the game in such a way to give every player who plays on the original hardware after having played a modified port a shared experience, or at least with differences that are too subtle to be noticeable. This is what I'll call the "Surface SM64 Theory". So at least in my mind, copy personalization equates more to instilled emotions, feelings, and thought processes that are interpreted through subtle differences between inputs, than it does pure 'injection' (IE, new graphics, music, sound effects and textures being 'beta-ified'). Although injection is certainly a part of it, it's not grandiose, and the effects are rarely seen on video, if at all. Which brings me to why I'm here today.

I feel that, to experience copy personalization on a level that's intimate enough to not just be a ripple effect, and can be closely analyzed, the only solution is to give the personalization factor a more direct line into one's senses. And what's the best way to do that with tools that are already available to the common consumer? VR, along with some other tools.

By controlling the game as if I were Mario, rather than Mario being a proxy to player input, I can observe the game at a closer, more emotionally open level. With headphones I can experience the sounds at a closer level, and by being closer to the screen I can experience the game itself at a closer level. Makes sense, doesn't it?

Given the Surface SM64 Theory though, I should note that I have played other ports of SM64 though, and, like I said, know it's ins and outs quite well, I decided to break from the game for an extended period of time (about a month at the time of writing) before trying to conduct this experiment. Ideally we'd want someone who grew up with the original release and nothing else, or had never heard of the game at all, but, I'm not interested in using any human guinea pig except for myself. In this way I hope to approach the game with a fresh mindset, or at least a mindset fresh enough so that I could explore at least some of the personalization effects.

Before this break though, I got into contact with a few different mod authors (who, for the sake of privacy, won't disclose the names of, they didn't want much to do with this project to begin with. I think they thought I was crazy or something) who gave me the grace of helping me out. The VR setup in question uses a rom extracted straight from my copy Super Mario 64, which has been verified to be an original cart. This rom was extended, modified, then the new rom was flashed onto a player cart in a modified Nintendo 64, with the rom's mods adding support for a gyroscopic, first-person camera, environmentally accurate surround sound, and two VR controllers I can hold.

I hope that doing this hasn't tampered with too much of the personalization AI, I'm not sure what the authors did to the rom, and in retrospect I probably shouldn't have given them the benefit of the doubt just putting my safety into their hands when they obviously thought I was bananas and refused to let me share any information about them. But, I've gone about this the only way I knew how to, and I've poured too much time into this now to not do it. So, I guess this frontier will be one I explore blindly. So, over the course of however long it takes me to finish the game with 120 Stars and talk to Yoshi, I'll be logging my experiences.

The Experiment

8/7/2020 11:30AM - Stars Collected: 0

Getting used to the controls took quite a lot of time, although thankfully the gyroscopic camera seems to follow Mario as an object instead of his model's face, I can't imagine doing all those flips and turns with a gyroscopic camera.

Everything seems to be working ok so far though, nothing seems too out of the ordinary, of course I didn't really look outside very much before going in, but, we'll see where it goes from here.

8/7/2020 11:55AM - Stars Collected: 8 This may've been a bad idea. I feel fine. So far it's just been playing the game in close-up, with not a whole lot else going on. I'm still going to see it through to it's end, but I wouldn't be surprised if I don't report back on anything else for a while. It's just kind of going through the motions at this point. I have all of BoB's stars except for MwttS and the first secret slide star, I'm not going to even try to attempt the second one right now, I still need time to get used to this I think, and for some reason I've always struggled with that one in particular. I guess if there's one thing that feels off, it's that, ironically, everything ironically feels much more quiet, I don't know if it's me, but everything feels quieter. With quieter audio this game feels so much lonelier. Early 3D environments can seem so bland and barren without much context. I'm gonna go try to fight Bowser, hopefully this goes well.

8/7/2020 12:10 PM - Stars Collected: 8 I may have made a slight error in judgement. Bowser levels are not only harder than I though they'd be with the camera zoomed in so close, but fighting Bowser is nearly impossible. Even though the camera follows Mario as an object and not his model, that doesn't seem to translate to Bowser very well, because the camera spins. Oh boy, does it spin. It's making me motion sick trying to beat him. I usually don't even get motion sick, I've been playing video games all my life, and VR has never bothered me like this. Perhaps it's just the game though. In the meantime I think I won't bother with Bowser and I'll go do some other stars here in the Foyer, there's a lot to get done after all.

8/7/2020 12:46PM - Stars Collected: 15 I finally got the other slide star, after a bunch of tries. I've always struggled with that one in particular, but this time it was especially hard with the camera, you can't hardly see where you're going and making that blind jump is such a gamble. I was really happy to be done with it when I got there. And by really happy, I mean, seriously giddy. When I heard the twinkling and the star appeared I had this moment to myself where I just started giggling. It just felt so rewarding. Something about it just... got to me. I felt warm on the inside. I think I'm starting to like the game better this way, it's harder, but, it's rewarding. I almost wonder if doing it again would have the same effect. But, I don't have time for that, I have to go finish up WF and JRB

8/7/2020 1:12PM - Stars Collected: 17 Well, out of pure curiosity, I tried it. And it worked. Too well. I haven't been getting much done for the past 10 minutes. I've just been redoing the slide star. Why I'm stuck on it? I don't know. I have more progress to make, I know, but, something about it is just fun. But, really, that's what the game is about, isn't it? Having fun? Besides, I have all the time in the world to finish the game, surely a little indulgence can't hurt right? Maybe it just feels nice to have finally conquered that one star that frustrated me so much. Either way, I for sure am gonna go back and finish the foyer now. I'm wasting time.

8/7/2020 2:36PM - Stars Collected: 17 God damn it. Why am I so stuck on this one mission? It's a really unremarkable star in the long run of things, it's a footnote. It's just one star. It's just one star. Why is it so much fun? It's so stupid, I feel like an addict going back to it over and over again. But, there's such a rush that comes with it. It's like a rollercoaster, the thrill, the anticipation of it all. And it has such a nice payoff, collecting a star feels so nice in this game. Screw personalization, maybe I should just shoot for the record on this star, surely there's a glitchless record for it somewhere.

8/7/2020 3:01PM - Stars Collected: 17 Still no progress. Been having a good time though. I think I should take a break soon though, I caught myself drooling a little bit after getting the star again.

8/7/2020 3:25PM - Stars Collected: 17 Yeah I need to take a break soon. This is extremely captivating, but, I caught myself drooling on myself again, and, I think I'm freaking my housemates out by giggling so much. But, I can't help it! It's such a rush! This is the truest essence of a video game I've felt in so long, I'm starting to feel nostalgic. I've always liked the Slider music more than most, and there's so many questions clawing at my mind. Like, what are the pillars there for? Who put them there? Why are they tangible? I always did like them. I wonder if they were meant to be in other levels before getting removed.

8/7/2020 5:16PM - Stars Collected: 17 Ok, I guess the road ends here for now. Someone kicked me off. Probably better that way too. I was in the zone playing the star again but, apparently I must've gotten really into it, because, I didn't hear myself, but apparently I was laughing, a lot. Very loudly. Eventually I guess I pissed one of my roommates off, they came and took off the headset and told me to go take a shower and stop doing this. I don't really want to do that, I kinda just wanna keep researching, but... I'm not too upset about it though, I mean, after all I can always just come back to this later. I mean, if this one star has captivated me so much, what'll the rest of the game be like? I'll come back tomorrow.

8/8/2020 9:50AM - Stars Collected: 17 I had a dream last night. About the slide. I think I need another day to take a break from this, the more I think about it, the more it's starting to bother me. What was my deal there? Why did I start laughing. Why did I enjoy this so much? And why do I still have all these questions about it? It's just one star. I need to get to the rest of the game and stop thinking about this.

8/9/2020 5:30PM - Stars Collected: 17 I can't stop thinking about it. I need to do it again. Just one more time. Then I can do the rest of the game. But I need to put this to bed.

8/9/2020 5:45PM - Stars Collected: 17 It happened again. I did it once, and it turned into another time. And another, and another. I started laughing again. I can't help it. I don't even know it's happening. But it is. It is. And I love it. It makes me sad that it's annoying people, but I can't help it. It's just... so much fun. So much fun. So much. So much. So much.

8/9/2020 7:31PM I shouldn't even bother with the star count. I got down to 13 seconds and I lost it. I cant' believe it. It's amazing. I was so happy. 13 seconds oh my god, I don't even know what the record is but it's gotta be close!

8/9/2020 10:00PM It's too much fun. I stopped about 10 minutes ago but, I soiled myself playing the game. I was too into it, I must not have noticed. What's wrong with me? Why am i like this? i feel like i cant tell anyone about this, they wouldn't understand. they wouldn't get it. they would just tell me to stop. i cant stop. i can't its serious now. this is serious. i have to keep going i have to i have to. but i cant anymore i need to go to bed i need to stop i need to sotp i need

8/9/2020 10:20PM im starting to realize that... this is personalized. this must be what people mean as in, the game appeals to you itself. it's horrific, i hate it i hate thinking about it. i don't even know what the game's doing to make me think this. Why. how. why is it like this? And why do i keep coming back. I hate doing it. I can't stop doing it but I hate doing it. It's an addiction it's a virus it's eating away at me like a parasite. I need to go to bed.

8/10/2020 3:28AM i can't sleep

8/10/2020 4:00AM i couldn't help myself i had to go back to it. i had to play it. it's so fun. i know it's bad for me, but nobody gets it. not even you reading this gets it, you don't KNOW me. you dont' know how much this emans to me and what it's doing for me. It's my lfieblodd this is my purpsoe. thise is me.

8/11/2020 they took it from  e they took it from me

i tried t play it on an meulator just to get the ficx but it wasn't the same. it wasn[t the same. it wasn't the same. and I NEED it back. i need it back . it's been hours now withotu eme having it and it's hurting me. it's hruting me. i'm seeing it in my head, it's what i need to take hold of and use, but Ii cant have it they won[t let me they won't let me do it.

i think im starting to see things that arent there.

8/14/20 I want fun. someone, please, show me, somewhere. I need thid feeling to come back. i need fun.

i hope he’ll show me fun

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of Mario 64 is personalized.Every copy of Mario 64 is personalized.Every copy of Mario 64 is personalized.Every copy of Mario 64 is personalized.Every copy of Mario 64 is personalized.Every copy of Mario 64 is personalized.Every copy of Mario 64 is personalized.Every copy of Mario 64 is personalized.Every copy of Mario 64 is personalized.Every copy of Mario 64 is personalized.Every copy of Mario 64 is personalized.Every copy of Mario 64 is personalized.Every copy of Mario 64 is personalized.Every copy of Mario 64 is personalized.Every copy of Mario 64 is personalized.Every copy of Mario 64 is personalized.Every copy of Mario 64 is personalized.Every copy of Mario 64 is personalized.Every copy of Mario 64 is personalized.Every copy of Mario 64 is personalized.Every copy of Mario 64 is personalized.Every copy of Mario 64 is personalized.Every copy of Mario 64 is personalized.Every copy of Mario 64 is personalized.Every copy of Mario 64 is personalized.Every copy of Mario 64 is personalized.Every copy of Mario 64 is personalized.Every copy of Mario 64 is personalized.Every copy of Mario 64 is personalized.Every copy of Mario 64 is personalized.Every copy of Mario 64 is personalized.Every copy of Mario 64 is personalized.Every copy of Mario 64 is personalized.Every copy of Mario 64 is personalized.Every copy of Mario 64 is personalized.Every copy of Mario 64 is personalized.Every copy of Mario 64 is personalized.Every copy of Mario 64 is personalized.Every copy of Mario 64 is personalized.Every copy of Mario 64 is personalized.Every copy of Mario 64 is personalized.Every copy of Mario 64 is personalized.Every copy of Mario 64 is personalized.Every copy of Mario 64 is personalized.Every copy of Mario 64 is personalized.Every copy of Mario 64 is personalized.Every copy of Mario 64 is personalized.Every copy of Mario 64 is personalized.Every copy of Mario 64 is personalized.Every copy of Mario 64 is personalized.Every copy of Mario 64 is personalized.Every copy of Mario 64 is personalized.Every copy of Mario 64 is personalized.Every copy of Mario 64 is personalized.Every copy of Mario 64 is personalized.Every copy of Mario 64 is personalized.Every copy of Mario 64 is personalized.Every copy of Mario 64 is personalized.Every copy of Mario 64 is personalized.Every copy of Mario 64 is personalized.Every copy of Mario 64 is personalized.Every copy of Mario 64 is personalized.Every copy of Mario 64 is personalized.Every copy of Mario 64 is personalized.Every copy of Mario 64 is personalized.Every copy of Mario 64 is personalized.Every copy of Mario 64 is personalized.Every copy of Mario 64 is personalized.Every copy of Mario 64 is personalized.Every copy of Mario 64 is personalized.Every copy of Mario 64 is personalized.Every copy of Mario 64 is personalized.Every copy of Mario 64 is personalized.Every copy of Mario 64 is personalized.Every copy of Mario 64 is personalized.Every copy of Mario 64 is personalized.Every copy of Mario 64 is personalized.Every copy of Mario 64 is personalized.Every copy of Mario 64 is personalized.Every copy of Mario 64 is personalized.Every copy of Mario 64 is personalized.Every copy of Mario 64 is personalized.Every copy of Mario 64 is personalized.Every copy of Mario 64 is personalized.Every copy of Mario 64 is personalized.Every copy of Mario 64 is personalized.Every copy of Mario 64 is personalized.Every copy of Mario 64 is personalized.Every copy of Mario 64 is personalized.Every copy of Mario 64 is personalized.Every copy of Mario 64 is personalized.Every copy of Mario 64 is personalized.Every copy of Mario 64 is personalized.Every copy of Mario 64 is personalized.Every copy of Mario 64 is personalized.Every copy of Mario 64 is personalized.Every copy of Mario 64 is personalized.Every copy of Mario 64 is personalized.Every copy of Mario 64 is personalized.Every copy of Mario 64 is personalized.Every copy of Mario 64 is personalized.Every copy of Mario 64 is personalized.Every copy of Mario 64 is personalized.Every copy of Mario 64 is personalized.Every copy of Mario 64 is personalized.Every copy of Mario 64 is personalized.Every copy of Mario 64 is personalized.Every copy of Mario 64 is personalized.Every copy of Mario 64 is personalized.Every copy of Mario 64 is personalized.Every copy of Mario 64 is personalized.Every copy of Mario 64 is personalized.Every copy of Mario 64 is personalized.Every copy of Mario 64 is personalized.Every copy of Mario 64 is personalized.Every copy of Mario 64 is personalized.Every copy of Mario 64 is personalized.Every copy of Mario 64 is personalized.Every copy of Mario 64 is personalized.Every copy of Mario 64 is personalized.Every copy of Mario 64 is personalized.Every copy of Mario 64 is personalized.Every copy of Mario 64 is personalized.Every copy of Mario 64 is personalized.Every copy of Mario 64 is personalized.Every copy of Mario 64 is personalized.Every copy of Mario 64 is personalized.Every copy of Mario 64 is personalized.Every copy of Mario 64 is personalized.Every copy of Mario 64 is personalized.Every copy of Mario 64 is personalized.Every copy of Mario 64 is personalized.Every copy of Mario 64 is personalized.Every copy of Mario 64 is personalized.Every copy of Mario 64 is personalized.Every copy of Mario 64 is personalized.Every copy of Mario 64 is personalized.Every copy of Mario 64 is personalized.Every copy of Mario 64 is personalized.Every copy of Mario 64 is personalized.Every copy of Mario 64 is personalized.Every copy of Mario 64 is personalized.Every copy of Mario 64 is personalized.Every copy of Mario 64 is personalized.Every copy of Mario 64 is personalized.Every copy of Mario 64 is personalized.Every copy of Mario 64 is personalized.Every copy of Mario 64 is personalized.Every copy of Mario 64 is personalized.Every copy of Mario 64 is personalized.Every copy of Mario 64 is personalized.Every copy of Mario 64 is personalized.Every copy of Mario 64 is personalized.Every copy of Mario 64 is personalized.Every copy of Mario 64 is personalized.Every copy of Mario 64 is personalized.Every copy of Mario 64 is personalized.Every copy of Mario 64 is personalized.Every copy of Mario 64 is personalized.Every copy of Mario 64 is personalized.Every copy of Mario 64 is personalized.Every copy of Mario 64 is personalized.Every copy of Mario 64 is personalized.Every copy of Mario 64 is personalized.Every copy of Mario 64 is personalized.Every copy of Mario 64 is personalized.Every copy of Mario 64 is personalized.Every copy of Mario 64 is personalized.Every copy of Mario 64 is personalized.Every copy of Mario 64 is personalized.Every copy of Mario 64 is personalized.Every copy of Mario 64 is personalized.Every copy of Mario 64 is personalized.Every copy of Mario 64 is personalized.Every copy of Mario 64 is personalized.Every copy of Mario 64 is personalized.Every copy of Mario 64 is personalized.Every copy of Mario 64 is personalized.Every copy of Mario 64 is personalized.Every copy of Mario 64 is personalized.Every copy of Mario 64 is personalized.Every copy of Mario 64 is personalized.Every copy of Mario 64 is personalized.Every copy of Mario 64 is personalized.Every copy of Mario 64 is personalized.Every copy of Mario 64 is personalized.Every copy of Mario 64 is personalized.Every copy of Mario 64 is personalized.Every copy of Mario 64 is personalized.Every copy of Mario 64 is personalized.Every copy of Mario 64 is personalized.Every copy of Mario 64 is personalized.Every copy of Mario 64 is personalized.Every copy of Mario 64 is personalized.Every copy of Mario 64 is personalized.Every copy of Mario 64 is personalized.Every copy of Mario 64 is personalized.Every copy of Mario 64 is personalized.Every copy of Mario 64 is personalized.Every copy of Mario 64 is personalized.Every copy of Mario 64 is personalized.Every copy of Mario 64 is personalized.Every copy of Mario 64 is personalized.Every copy of Mario 64 is personalized.Every copy of Mario 64 is personalized.Every copy of Mario 64 is personalized.Every copy of Mario 64 is personalized.Every copy of Mario 64 is personalized.Every copy of Mario 64 is personalized.Every copy of Mario 64 is personalized.Every copy of Mario 64 is personalized.Every copy of Mario 64 is personalized.Every copy of Mario 64 is personalized.Every copy of Mario 64 is personalized.Every copy of Mario 64 is personalized.Every copy of Mario 64 is personalized.Every copy of Mario 64 is personalized.Every copy of Mario 64 is personalized.Every copy of Mario 64 is personalized.Every copy of Mario 64 is personalized.Every copy of Mario 64 is personalized.Every copy of Mario 64 is personalized.Every copy of Mario 64 is personalized.Every copy of Mario 64 is personalized.Every copy of Mario 64 is personalized.Every copy of Mario 64 is personalized.Every copy of Mario 64 is personalized.Every copy of Mario 64 is personalized.Every copy of Mario 64 is personalized.Every copy of Mario 64 is personalized.Every copy of Mario 64 is personalized.Every copy of Mario 64 is personalized.Every copy of Mario 64 is personalized.Every copy of Mario 64 is personalized.Every copy of Mario 64 is personalized.Every copy of Mario 64 is personalized.Every copy of Mario 64 is personalized.Every copy of Mario 64 is personalized.Every copy of Mario 64 is personalized.Every copy of Mario 64 is personalized.Every copy of Mario 64 is personalized.Every copy of Mario 64 is personalized.Every copy of Mario 64 is personalized.Every copy of Mario 64 is personalized.Every copy of Mario 64 is personalized.Every copy of Mario 64 is personalized.Every copy of Mario 64 is personalized.Every copy of Mario 64 is personalized.Every copy of Mario 64 is personalized.Every copy of Mario 64 is personalized.Every copy of Mario 64 is personalized.Every copy of Mario 64 is personalized.Every copy of Mario 64 is personalized.Every copy of Mario 64 is personalized.Every copy of Mario 64 is personalized.Every copy of Mario 64 is personalized.Every copy of Mario 64 is personalized.Every copy of Mario 64 is personalized.Every copy of Mario 64 is personalized.Every copy of Mario 64 is personalized.Every copy of Mario 64 is personalized.Every copy of Mario 64 is personalized.Every copy of Mario 64 is personalized.Every copy of Mario 64 is personalized.Every copy of Mario 64 is personalized.Every copy of Mario 64 is personalized.Every copy of Mario 64 is personalized.Every copy of Mario 64 is personalized.Every copy of Mario 64 is personalized.Every copy of Mario 64 is personalized.Every copy of Mario 64 is personalized.Every copy of Mario 64 is personalized.Every copy of Mario 64 is personalized.Every copy of Mario 64 is personalized.Every copy of Mario 64 is personalized.Every copy of Mario 64 is personalized.Every copy of Mario 64 is personalized.Every copy of Mario 64 is personalized.Every copy of Mario 64 is personalized.Every copy of Mario 64 is personalized.Every copy of Mario 64 is personalized.Every copy of Mario 64 is personalized.Every copy of Mario 64 is personalized.Every copy of Mario 64 is personalized.Every copy of Mario 64 is personalized.Every copy of Mario 64 is personalized.Every copy of Mario 64 is personalized.Every copy of Mario 64 is personalized.Every copy of Mario 64 is personalized.Every copy of Mario 64 is personalized.Every copy of Mario 64 is personalized.Every copy of Mario 64 is personalized.Every copy of Mario 64 is personalized.Every copy of Mario 64 is personalized.Every copy of Mario 64 is personalized.Every copy of Mario 64 is personalized.Every copy of Mario 64 is personalized.Every copy of Mario 64 is personalized.Every copy of Mario 64 is personalized.Every copy of Mario 64 is personalized.Every copy of Mario 64 is personalized.Every copy of Mario 64 is personalized.Every copy of Mario 64 is personalized.Every copy of Mario 64 is personalized.Every copy of Mario 64 is personalized.Every copy of Mario 64 is personalized.Every copy of Mario 64 is personalized.Every copy of Mario 64 is personalized.Every copy of Mario 64 is personalized.Every copy of Mario 64 is personalized.Every copy of Mario 64 is personalized.Every copy of Mario 64 is personalized.Every copy of Mario 64 is personalized.Every copy of Mario 64 is personalized.Every copy of Mario 64 is personalized.Every copy of Mario 64 is personalized.Every copy of Mario 64 is personalized.Every copy of Mario 64 is personalized.Every copy of Mario 64 is personalized.Every copy of Mario 64 is personalized.Every copy of Mario 64 is personalized.Every copy of Mario 64 is personalized.Every copy of Mario 64 is personalized.Every copy of Mario 64 is personalized.Every copy of Mario 64 is personalized.Every copy of Mario 64 is personalized.Every copy of Mario 64 is personalized.Every copy of Mario 64 is personalized.Every copy of Mario 64 is personalized.Every copy of Mario 64 is personalized.Every copy of Mario 64 is personalized.Every copy of Mario 64 is personalized.Every copy of Mario 64 is personalized.Every copy of Mario 64 is personalized.Every copy of Mario 64 is personalized.Every copy of Mario 64 is personalized.Every copy of Mario 64 is personalized.Every copy of Mario 64 is personalized.Every copy of Mario 64 is personalized.Every copy of Mario 64 is personalized.Every copy of Mario 64 is personalized.Every copy of Mario 64 is personalized.Every copy of Mario 64 is personalized.Every copy of Mario 64 is personalized.Every copy of Mario 64 is personalized.Every copy of Mario 64 is personalized.Every copy of Mario 64 is personalized.Every copy of Mario 64 is personalized.Every copy of Mario 64 is personalized.Every copy of Mario 64 is personalized.Every copy of Mario 64 is personalized.Every copy of Mario 64 is personalized.Every copy of Mario 64 is personalized.Every copy of Mario 64 is personalized.Every copy of Mario 64 is personalized.Every copy of Mario 64 is personalized.Every copy of Mario 64 is personalized.Every copy of Mario 64 is personalized.Every copy of Mario 64 is personalized.Every copy of Mario 64 is personalized.Every copy of Mario 64 is personalized.Every copy of Mario 64 is personalized.Every copy of Mario 64 is personalized.Every copy of Mario 64 is personalized.Every copy of Mario 64 is personalized.Every copy of Mario 64 is personalized.Every copy of Mario 64 is personalized.Every copy of Mario 64 is personalized.Every copy of Mario 64 is personalized.Every copy of Mario 64 is personalized.Every copy of Mario 64 is personalized.Every copy of Mario 64 is personalized.Every copy of Mario 64 is personalized.Every copy of Mario 64 is personalized.Every copy of Mario 64 is personalized.Every copy of Mario 64 is personalized.Every copy of Mario 64 is personalized.Every copy of Mario 64 is personalized.Every copy of Mario 64 is personalized.Every copy of Mario 64 is personalized.Every copy of Mario 64 is personalized.Every copy of Mario 64 is personalized.Every copy of Mario 64 is personalized.Every copy of Mario 64 is personalized.Every copy of Mario 64 is personalized.Every copy of Mario 64 is personalized.Every copy of Mario 64 is personalized.Every copy of Mario 64 is personalized.Every copy of Mario 64 is personalized.Every copy of Mario 64 is personalized.Every copy of Mario 64 is personalized.Every copy of Mario 64 is personalized.Every copy of Mario 64 is personalized.Every copy of Mario 64 is personalized.Every copy of Mario 64 is personalized.Every copy of Mario 64 is personalized.Every copy of Mario 64 is personalized.Every copy of Mario 64 is personalized.Every copy of Mario 64 is personalized.Every copy of Mario 64 is personalized.Every copy of Mario 64 is personalized.Every copy of Mario 64 is personalized.Every copy of Mario 64 is personalized.Every copy of Mario 64 is personalized.Every copy of Mario 64 is personalized.Every copy of Mario 64 is personalized.Every copy of Mario 64 is personalized.Every copy of Mario 64 is personalized.Every copy of Mario 64 is personalized.Every copy of Mario 64 is personalized.Every copy of Mario 64 is personalized.Every copy of Mario 64 is personalized.Every copy of Mario 64 is personalized.Every copy of Mario 64 is personalized.Every copy of Mario 64 is personalized.Every copy of Mario 64 is personalized.Every copy of Mario 64 is personalized.Every copy of Mario 64 is personalized.Every copy of Mario 64 is personalized.Every copy of Mario 64 is personalized.Every copy of Mario 64 is personalized.Every copy of Mario 64 is personalized.Every copy of Mario 64 is personalized.Every copy of Mario 64 is personalized.Every copy of Mario 64 is personalized.Every copy of Mario 64 is personalized.Every copy of Mario 64 is personalized.Every copy of Mario 64 is personalized.Every copy of Mario 64 is personalized.Every copy of Mario 64 is personalized.Every copy of Mario 64 is personalized.Every copy of Mario 64 is personalized.Every copy of Mario 64 is personalized.Every copy of Mario 64 is personalized.Every copy of Mario 64 is personalized.Every copy of Mario 64 is personalized.Every copy of Mario 64 is personalized.Every copy of Mario 64 is personalized.Every copy of Mario 64 is personalized.Every copy of Mario 64 is personalized.Every copy of Mario 64 is personalized.Every copy of Mario 64 is personalized.Every copy of Mario 64 is personalized.Every copy of Mario 64 is personalized.Every copy of Mario 64 is personalized.Every copy of Mario 64 is personalized.Every copy of Mario 64 is personalized.Every copy of Mario 64 is personalized.Every copy of Mario 64 is personalized.Every copy of Mario 64 is personalized.Every copy of Mario 64 is personalized.Every copy of Mario 64 is personalized.Every copy of Mario 64 is personalized.Every copy of Mario 64 is personalized.Every copy of Mario 64 is personalized.Every copy of Mario 64 is personalized.Every copy of Mario 64 is personalized.Every copy of Mario 64 is personalized.Every copy of Mario 64 is personalized.Every copy of Mario 64 is personalized.Every copy of Mario 64 is personalized.Every copy of Mario 64 is personalized.Every copy of Mario 64 is personalized.Every copy of Mario 64 is personalized.Every copy of Mario 64 is personalized.Every copy of Mario 64 is personalized.Every copy of Mario 64 is personalized.Every copy of Mario 64 is personalized.Every copy of Mario 64 is personalized.Every copy of Mario 64 is personalized.Every copy of Mario 64 is personalized.Every copy of Mario 64 is personalized.Every copy of Mario 64 is personalized.Every copy of Mario 64 is personalized.Every copy of Mario 64 is personalized.Every copy of Mario 64 is personalized.Every copy of Mario 64 is personalized.Every copy of Mario 64 is personalized.Every copy of Mario 64 is personalized.Every copy of Mario 64 is personalized.Every copy of Mario 64 is personalized.Every copy of Mario 64 is personalized.Every copy of Mario 64 is personalized.Every copy of Mario 64 is personalized.Every copy of Mario 64 is personalized.Every copy of Mario 64 is personalized.Every copy of Mario 64 is personalized.Every copy of Mario 64 is personalized.Every copy of Mario 64 is personalized.Every copy of Mario 64 is personalized.Every copy of Mario 64 is personalized.Every copy of Mario 64 is personalized.Every copy of Mario 64 is personalized.Every copy of Mario 64 is personalized.Every copy of Mario 64 is personalized.Every copy of Mario 64 is personalized.Every copy of Mario 64 is personalized.Every copy of Mario 64 is personalized.Every copy of Mario 64 is personalized.Every copy of Mario 64 is personalized.Every copy of Mario 64 is personalized.Every copy of Mario 64 is personalized.Every copy of Mario 64 is personalized.Every copy of Mario 64 is personalized.Every copy of Mario 64 is personalized.Every copy of Mario 64 is personalized.Every copy of Mario 64 is personalized.Every copy of Mario 64 is personalized.Every copy of Mario 64 is personalized.Every copy of Mario 64 is personalized.Every copy of Mario 64 is personalized.Every copy of Mario 64 is personalized.Every copy of Mario 64 is personalized.Every copy of Mario 64 is personalized.Every copy of Mario 64 is personalized.Every copy of Mario 64 is personalized.Every copy of Mario 64 is personalized.Every copy of Mario 64 is personalized.Every copy of Mario 64 is personalized.Every copy of Mario 64 is personalized.Every copy of Mario 64 is personalized.Every copy of Mario 64 is personalized.Every copy of Mario 64 is personalized.Every copy of Mario 64 is personalized.Every copy of Mario 64 is personalized.Every copy of Mario 64 is personalized.Every copy of Mario 64 is personalized.Every copy of Mario 64 is personalized.Every copy of Mario 64 is personalized.Every copy of Mario 64 is personalized.Every copy of Mario 64 is personalized.Every copy of Mario 64 is personalized.Every copy of Mario 64 is personalized.Every copy of Mario 64 is personalized.Every copy of Mario 64 is personalized.Every copy of Mario 64 is personalized.Every copy of Mario 64 is personalized.Every copy of Mario 64 is personalized.Every copy of Mario 64 is personalized.Every copy of Mario 64 is personalized.Every copy of Mario 64 is personalized.Every copy of Mario 64 is personalized.Every copy of Mario 64 is personalized.Every copy of Mario 64 is personalized.Every copy of Mario 64 is personalized.Every copy of Mario 64 is personalized.Every copy of Mario 64 is personalized.Every copy of Mario 64 is personalized.Every copy of Mario 64 is personalized.Every copy of Mario 64 is personalized.Every copy of Mario 64 is personalized.Every copy of Mario 64 is personalized.Every copy of Mario 64 is personalized.Every copy of Mario 64 is personalized.Every copy of Mario 64 is personalized.Every copy of Mario 64 is personalized.Every copy of Mario 64 is personalized.Every copy of Mario 64 is personalized.Every copy of Mario 64 is personalized.Every copy of Mario 64 is personalized.Every copy of Mario 64 is personalized.Every copy of Mario 64 is personalized.Every copy of Mario 64 is personalized.Every copy of Mario 64 is personalized.Every copy of Mario 64 is personalized.Every copy of Mario 64 is personalized.Every copy of Mario 64 is personalized.Every copy of Mario 64 is personalized.Every copy of Mario 64 is personalized.Every copy of Mario 64 is personalized.Every copy of Mario 64 is personalized.Every copy of Mario 64 is personalized.Every copy of Mario 64 is personalized.Every copy of Mario 64 is personalized.Every copy of Mario 64 is personalized.Every copy of Mario 64 is personalized.Every copy of Mario 64 is personalized.Every copy of Mario 64 is personalized.Every copy of Mario 64 is personalized.Every copy of Mario 64 is personalized.Every copy of Mario 64 is personalized.Every copy of Mario 64 is personalized.Every copy of Mario 64 is personalized.Every copy of Mario 64 is personalized.Every copy of Mario 64 is personalized.Every copy of Mario 64 is personalized.Every copy of Mario 64 is personalized.Every copy of Mario 64 is personalized.Every copy of Mario 64 is personalized.Every copy of Mario 64 is personalized.Every copy of Mario 64 is personalized.Every copy of Mario 64 is personalized.Every copy of Mario 64 is personalized.Every copy of Mario 64 is personalized.Every copy of Mario 64 is personalized.Every copy of Mario 64 is personalized.Every copy of Mario 64 is personalized.Every copy of Mario 64 is personalized.Every copy of Mario 64 is personalized.Every copy of Mario 64 is personalized.Every copy of Mario 64 is personalized.Every copy of Mario 64 is personalized.Every copy of Mario 64 is personalized.Every copy of Mario 64 is personalized.Every copy of Mario 64 is personalized.Every copy of Mario 64 is personalized.Every copy of Mario 64 is personalized.Every copy of Mario 64 is personalized.Every copy of Mario 64 is personalized.Every copy of Mario 64 is personalized.Every copy of Mario 64 is personalized.Every copy of Mario 64 is personalized.Every copy of Mario 64 is personalized.Every copy of Mario 64 is personalized.Every copy of Mario 64 is personalized.Every copy of Mario 64 is personalized.Every copy of Mario 64 is personalized.Every copy of Mario 64 is personalized.Every copy of Mario 64 is personalized.Every copy of Mario 64 is personalized.Every copy of Mario 64 is personalized.Every copy of Mario 64 is personalized.Every copy of Mario 64 is personalized.Every copy of Mario 64 is personalized.Every copy of Mario 64 is personalized.Every copy of Mario 64 is personalized.Every copy of Mario 64 is personalized.Every copy of Mario 64 is personalized.Every copy of Mario 64 is personalized.Every copy of Mario 64 is personalized.Every copy of Mario 64 is personalized.Every copy of Mario 64 is personalized.Every copy of Mario 64 is personalized.Every copy of Mario 64 is personalized.Every copy of Mario 64 is personalized.Every copy of Mario 64 is personalized.Every copy of Mario 64 is personalized.Every copy of Mario 64 is personalized.Every copy of Mario 64 is personalized.Every copy of Mario 64 is personalized.Every copy of Mario 64 is personalized.Every copy of Mario 64 is personalized.Every copy of Mario 64 is personalized.Every copy of Mario 64 is personalized.Every copy of Mario 64 is personalized.Every copy of Mario 64 is personalized.Every copy of Mario 64 is personalized.Every copy of Mario 64 is personalized.Every copy of Mario 64 is personalized.Every copy of Mario 64 is personalized.Every copy of Mario 64 is personalized.Every copy of Mario 64 is personalized.Every copy of Mario 64 is personalized.Every copy of Mario 64 is personalized.Every copy of Mario 64 is personalized.Every copy of Mario 64 is personalized.Every copy of Mario 64 is personalized.Every copy of Mario 64 is personalized.Every copy of Mario 64 is personalized.Every copy of Mario 64 is personalized.Every copy of Mario 64 is personalized.Every copy of Mario 64 is personalized.Every copy of Mario 64 is personalized.Every copy of Mario 64 is personalized.Every copy of Mario 64 is personalized.Every copy of Mario 64 is personalized.Every copy of Mario 64 is personalized.Every copy of Mario 64 is personalized.Every copy of Mario 64 is personalized.Every copy of Mario 64 is personalized.Every copy of Mario 64 is personalized.Every copy of Mario 64 is personalized.Every copy of Mario 64 is personalized.Every copy of Mario 64 is personalized.Every copy of Mario 64 is personalized.Every copy of Mario 64 is personalized.Every copy of Mario 64 is personalized.Every copy of Mario 64 is personalized.Every copy of Mario 64 is personalized.Every copy of Mario 64 is personalized.Every copy of Mario 64 is personalized.Every copy of Mario 64 is personalized.Every copy of Mario 64 is personalized.Every copy of Mario 64 is personalized.Every copy of Mario 64 is personalized.Every copy of Mario 64 is personalized.Every copy of Mario 64 is personalized.Every copy of Mario 64 is personalized.Every copy of Mario 64 is personalized.Every copy of Mario 64 is personalized.Every copy of Mario 64 is personalized.Every copy of Mario 64 is personalized.Every copy of Mario 64 is personalized.Every copy of Mario 64 is personalized.Every copy of Mario 64 is personalized.Every copy of Mario 64 is personalized.Every copy of Mario 64 is personalized.Every copy of Mario 64 is personalized.Every copy of Mario 64 is personalized.Every copy of Mario 64 is personalized.Every copy of Mario 64 is personalized.Every copy of Mario 64 is personalized.Every copy of Mario 64 is personalized.Every copy of Mario 64 is personalized.Every copy of Mario 64 is personalized.Every copy of Mario 64 is personalized.Every copy of Mario 64 is personalized.Every copy of Mario 64 is personalized.Every copy of Mario 64 is personalized.Every copy of Mario 64 is personalized.Every copy of Mario 64 is personalized.Every copy of Mario 64 is personalized.Every copy of Mario 64 is personalized.Every copy of Mario 64 is personalized.Every copy of Mario 64 is personalized.Every copy of Mario 64 is personalized.Every copy of Mario 64 is personalized.Every copy of Mario 64 is personalized.Every copy of Mario 64 is personalized.Every copy of Mario 64 is personalized.Every copy of Mario 64 is personalized.Every copy of Mario 64 is personalized.Every copy of Mario 64 is personalized.Every copy of Mario 64 is personalized.Every copy of Mario 64 is personalized.Every copy of Mario 64 is personalized.Every copy of Mario 64 is personalized.Every copy of Mario 64 is personalized.Every copy of Mario 64 is personalized.Every copy of Mario 64 is personalized.Every copy of Mario 64 is personalized.Every copy of Mario 64 is personalized.Every copy of Mario 64 is personalized.Every copy of Mario 64 is personalized.Every copy of Mario 64 is personalized.Every copy of Mario 64 is personalized.Every copy of Mario 64 is personalized.Every copy of Mario 64 is personalized.Every copy of Mario 64 is personalized.Every copy of Mario 64 is personalized.Every copy of Mario 64 is personalized.Every copy of Mario 64 is personalized.Every copy of Mario 64 is personalized.Every copy of Mario 64 is personalized.Every copy of Mario 64 is personalized.Every copy of Mario 64 is personalized.Every copy of Mario 64 is personalized.Every copy of Mario 64 is personalized.Every copy of Mario 64 is personalized.Every copy of Mario 64 is personalized.Every copy of Mario 64 is personalized.Every copy of Mario 64 is personalized.Every copy of Mario 64 is personalized.Every copy of Mario 64 is personalized.Every copy of Mario 64 is personalized.Every copy of Mario 64 is personalized.Every copy of Mario 64 is personalized.Every copy of Mario 64 is personalized.Every copy of Mario 64 is personalized.Every copy of Mario 64 is personalized.Every copy of Mario 64 is personalized.Every copy of Mario 64 is personalized.Every copy of Mario 64 is personalized.Every copy of Mario 64 is personalized.Every copy of Mario 64 is personalized.Every copy of Mario 64 is personalized.Every copy of Mario 64 is personalized.Every copy of Mario 64 is personalized.Every copy of Mario 64 is personalized.Every copy of Mario 64 is personalized.Every copy of Mario 64 is personalized.Every copy of Mario 64 is personalized.Every copy of Mario 64 is personalized.Every copy of Mario 64 is personalized.Every copy of Mario 64 is personalized.Every copy of Mario 64 is personalized.Every copy of Mario 64 is personalized.Every copy of Mario 64 is personalized.Every copy of Mario 64 is personalized.Every copy of Mario 64 is personalized.Every copy of Mario 64 is personalized.Every copy of Mario 64 is personalized.Every copy of Mario 64 is personalized.Every copy of Mario 64 is personalized.Every copy of Mario 64 is personalized.Every copy of Mario 64 is personalized.Every copy of Mario 64 is personalized.Every copy of Mario 64 is personalized.Every copy of Mario 64 is personalized.Every copy of Mario 64 is personalized.Every copy of Mario 64 is personalized.Every copy of Mario 64 is personalized.Every copy of Mario 64 is personalized.Every copy of Mario 64 is personalized.Every copy of Mario 64 is personalized.Every copy of Mario 64 is personalized.Every copy of Mario 64 is personalized.Every copy of Mario 64 is personalized.Every copy of Mario 64 is personalized.Every copy of Mario 64 is personalized.Every copy of Mario 64 is personalized.Every copy of Mario 64 is personalized.Every copy of Mario 64 is personalized.Every copy of Mario 64 is personalized.Every copy of Mario 64 is personalized.Every copy of Mario 64 is personalized.Every copy of Mario 64 is personalized.Every copy of Mario 64 is personalized.Every copy of Mario 64 is personalized.Every copy of Mario 64 is personalized.Every copy of Mario 64 is personalized.Every copy of Mario 64 is personalized.Every copy of Mario 64 is personalized.Every copy of Mario 64 is personalized.Every copy of Mario 64 is personalized.Every copy of Mario 64 is personalized.Every copy of Mario 64 is personalized.Every copy of Mario 64 is personalized.Every copy of Mario 64 is personalized.Every copy of Mario 64 is personalized.Every copy of Mario 64 is personalized.Every copy of Mario 64 is personalized.Every copy of Mario 64 is personalized.Every copy of Mario 64 is personalized.Every copy of Mario 64 is personalized.Every copy of Mario 64 is personalized.Every copy of Mario 64 is personalized.Every copy of Mario 64 is personalized.Every copy of Mario 64 is personalized.Every copy of Mario 64 is personalized.Every copy of Mario 64 is personalized.Every copy of Mario 64 is personalized.Every copy of Mario 64 is personalized.Every copy of Mario 64 is personalized.Every copy of Mario 64 is personalized.Every copy of Mario 64 is personalized.Every copy of Mario 64 is personalized.Every copy of Mario 64 is personalized.Every copy of Mario 64 is personalized.Every copy of Mario 64 is personalized.Every copy of Mario 64 is personalized.Every copy of Mario 64 is personalized.Every copy of Mario 64 is personalized.Every copy of Mario 64 is personalized.Every copy of Mario 64 is personalized.Every copy of Mario 64 is personalized.Every copy of Mario 64 is personalized.Every copy of Mario 64 is personalized.Every copy of Mario 64 is personalized.Every copy of Mario 64 is personalized.Every copy of Mario 64 is personalized.Every copy of Mario 64 is personalized.Every copy of Mario 64 is personalized.Every copy of Mario 64 is personalized.Every copy of Mario 64 is personalized.Every copy of Mario 64 is personalized.Every copy of Mario 64 is personalized.Every copy of Mario 64 is personalized.Every copy of Mario 64 is personalized.Every copy of Mario 64 is personalized.Every copy of Mario 64 is personalized.Every copy of Mario 64 is personalized.Every copy of Mario 64 is personalized.Every copy of Mario 64 is personalized.Every copy of Mario 64 is personalized.Every copy of Mario 64 is personalized.Every copy of Mario 64 is personalized.Every copy of Mario 64 is personalized.Every copy of Mario 64 is personalized.Every copy of Mario 64 is personalized.Every copy of Mario 64 is personalized.Every copy of Mario 64 is personalized.Every copy of Mario 64 is personalized.Every copy of Mario 64 is personalized.Every copy of Mario 64 is personalized.Every copy of Mario 64 is personalized.Every copy of Mario 64 is personalized.Every copy of Mario 64 is personalized.Every copy of Mario 64 is personalized.Every copy of Mario 64 is personalized.Every copy of Mario 64 is personalized.Every copy of Mario 64 is personalized.Every copy of Mario 64 is personalized.Every copy of Mario 64 is personalized.Every copy of Mario 64 is personalized.Every copy of Mario 64 is personalized.Every copy of Mario 64 is personalized.Every copy of Mario 64 is personalized.Every copy of Mario 64 is personalized.Every copy of Mario 64 is personalized.Every copy of Mario 64 is personalized.Every copy of Mario 64 is personalized.Every copy of Mario 64 is 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[beerecordings]

7 whump with Marvin if you please :)

Kenzie!! Je t’aime!! Thanks for requesting! Sorry this one got a little out of hand length-wise and also it turned out… pretty dark. Hope you enjoy it anyway :)

7. “Friends? You think they’d be proud to see what you’ve become?”

Hedid it. He did it. He did it.

Heset him free. He set Jack free. The poison is gone from him. Thecorruption is gone from him. Anti is gone from him.

Hishands are still up in front of him, shaking from the exertion of thepower he used to drive the demon out. Jameson is holding him, theirheads close together and their hands clenched, though Marvin has lostmost of the feeling throughout his body. All that remains is heat,and sweat on his face, and the painfully violent beating of hisheart.

Anda darkness in his vision. A darkness in his chest. A darkness in hispower.

“Whatis this?” he whispers, his eyes sliding shut. Pain grits his teethand he groans.

Aroundhim, he hears his family gasping and reassuring and rejoicing. Theysurround him like stars the moon, and there, in the center of it all,is Jack himself.

Heopens his eyes and they are no longer black.

“Reallygone?” Marvin hears Henrik ask, in a whisper.

“R-really– ” Jack coughs and swallows and tries again, his face white andhis throat red. “Really gone. I – you did it.”

“Marv,”says Chase, his voice flooded with admiration.

“ThankGod,” laughs Jackie, happier than he’s been in a long, long time.

AndJameson is pressed warmly against his head, stiff with relief,breathing slow and steady.

They’reproud of him. He hears it as music. Feels it as cold holy water onhis fingers. But he feels also the darkness.

“Whatis this?” Marvin repeats, struggling to swallow. “What is this?”

Thispain? This shadow? This strangeness, like when you wake up in themiddle of the night and know, without knowing how you know, thatthere is someone standing, still and silent, at the foot of your bed,and all you can do is lie there, breathing as quiet as you can,praying, praying, praying that it isn’t real?

Poorkitty cat, says Anti, sweetly,from inside his head, alive in the lower portion of his left frontallobe, and fear makes Marvin’s blood burn in waves across his heart.You really thought you could get rid of me.

Inthe initial storm of cold panic and a desperate need to regain somecontrol, Marvin decides to isolate himself completely.

Hedoesn’t know how he’s going to save himself, but he’ll be damned ifhe takes anyone else down with him. He runs.

Cutsoff contact with his brothers and leaves his cats at home, evenHabakkuk. Calls up a friend who’s out of town and asks to stay at herplace, and then stops talking to any of his other acquaintances –friends from football, friends from the bookstore, the handsomeviolinist he’d been flirting with for weeks. He even stops takingcalls from his human, watching with dull eyes as Jack’s name appearsand reappears, appears and reappears, appears and reappears on thescreen of his phone, followed every time by an increasingly concernedvoicemail.

“Marvin!Man, where did you go? You can’t just disappear like this. Did youuse too much power? Are you hurt? Or sick? I need you to come back.I’m – Marv, I’m scared.”

Noneof it matters. None of it matters until he can get rid of Anti. He’sno longer safe for his family. For his friends. For his Jack.

He’dthought it was scary to see Jack slowly collapse beneath the weightof Anti’s possession. But this – having him in his head – fuck,he didn’t know what fear was. He didn’t have the first idea.

Existencebecomes a survival struggle. Ghost pains echo through his whole body,leaving him exhausted and dismayed. Glimpses of the demon haunt theedges of his visions and his paranoia heightens to a virtually endlessstate of terror. He wakes up almost hourly from his nightmaredattempts to sleep and often finds himself staggering to the bathroomto vomit blood until his teeth are stained red.

He’snever felt so out of control. His emotions are untetherable and hisbody is failing him. His level-headedness has become a wild andendless desperation and sometimes he feels the demon moving hislimbs, his eyes, his mouth, without his consent or even awareness.

He’sscared. He’s scared.

“I’mlosing my mind,” he says three days in, when he wakes up to findhimself standing in Cassie’s kitchen, holding a knife.

There’sblood running down his left cheek. He’s cut himself, hard, a freshred scar perpetually sliced across his white face. He doesn’tremember doing it.

He’ssmart. He’s always been smart. Proud, too. Dignified, he likes tothink, with his fine hair tied back and his blue eyes flashing, hisbody fit for fighting and his clothes neat and suave. He has a quicktemper but rarely lets it drive him wild for more than a moment.

“I’mlosing my mind,” he says again, and tries not to cry.

Antiis quiet. Anti is waiting.

“I’mlosing my mind. I’m losing my… I’m losing.”

Hewants Jamie, or Jackie, or Henrik, or Chase. He wants Cassie, orDominic, or Hesed, or any of his friends. He wants Jack.

Buthe doesn’t want to put them in danger.

Hetrembles his way to the bathroom and presses a hopeless bandage overhis fat new scar. Blood drips off his chin. His eyes are red andswollen with exhaustion. There’s an unrooted dandelion curling likean earring on the side of his head, and he tears it off with oneweary motion of his shaking hands.

Hedoesn’t want them to see him like this anyway.

Thethought makes Anti laugh.

Onday four, he tries his best option. His only option, by now. His onlyconceivable option, now that so many others have failed him, and hisresolve is crumbling. Trembling with fervor and fear, he takes atrain to the country and returns to his favorite woods, wanderingdeep, deep into the forest, where the wind blows in cold ribbons pastthe ancient trunks of the trees and his magic curls like somethingvisceral and blue in his mouth.

Theundead thing in his body shrivels beneath the taste of his power,still weak from his attempt to overtake Jack, but does not die.

“Leaveme, leave me, leave me alone,” Marvin says.

Marvinscreams. Marvin sings, Marvin whispers, Marvin cries.

“Leaveme, leave me, leave me alone.”

Hekneels against the cold pure earth, his arms wrapped around himselfand his head to the ground, and he begs everything good andworthwhile within him to reject the horrible hot presence of thedemon, and the strong old forest to take Anti away, and return him tothe nothing he came from.

ButAnti does not go.

You’repathetic, says Anti’s voice,still soft inside his brain. My darling, my kitten, mydearest friend – don’t you know you can’t be rid of me?

“Iwill be rid of you,” Marvin hisses. “I will.”

Thepurification you gave to Jack was your last hope. You exhausted ahundred other options. Nothing gets rid of me. Purify again andyou’ll just give me up to another host, faekid. In any body, I willdestroy my oh-so-generous soul-keep, track down and slaughtereveryone you love, and tear my way back into Sean’s body to make himmy own again.

“Howdare you speak his name?” Marvin howled, and clover and moss burstup in the place where his fists struck the ground.

Faceit, says Anti, and, for just amoment, he actually sounds like he pities him. You’ve lost.And you always will.

Marvin leaves saplings in his footsteps and blue orchids for everypatch of earth dampened by his crying, but he cannot leave the demonbehind. As he walks away, he muses that even the forest no longerwants him.

Corrupt,says Anti, and then nothing more for the rest of the day.

Hegoes to Hesed a week in.

He’sfully weeping his way down the pavement and he’s incredibly cognizantof everyone turning to look at him, frowning as he passes, murmuringto each other as he goes. It makes his blood burn and his face hotwith shame and anger. There’s two more bandages across his face andone is still welling blood from where Anti tried to carve his ownname into Marvin’s cheek. There are flowers in his arms. They lookenough like a bouquet, but they sprouted in his arms and they won’tstop growing – roses, red carnations, poppies, and a spattering ofwhat he thinks are freesia dancing happily in his arms and tumblingonto the pavement behind him.

Atleast his hair looks nice. He managed to shower, to braid it and pinit up into a neat bun. It smells like coconut and there’s one wavingstrand untucked from his ear.

Heknocks frailly on the door of his friend – your friend!Anti laughs at him and Marvin considers turning back, white withfear, but Hesed is already opening the door.

“Oh,”he says, softly, sweetly, worried. “Hi, baby.”

Marvinnearly chokes on relief. In a second, he is shoving forward with hisroses and carnations and poppies and freesia, and there’s brightviolet heliotropium too now, and Hesed reaches out as if on instinctand pulls Marvin right to his chest, wrapping his arms around him andholding him close, close, close. His violinist’s fingers are cool andunscarred.

“Oh,baby, where were you? Are you okay? What’s wrong? Even sick you lookgorgeous, do you know that? What happened to your face, huh? Fuck, Ineed to call Jackie, he’s been so stressed looking for you – ”

“No,”cries Marvin, burying his face in Hesed’s shoulder. “No, don’t callhim. He can’t help, Hesed.”

“Whatare you talking about? Marvin, look at me. Look at me. What’s wrong?”

Hiseyes are deep and brown. He is beautiful the way old buildings andoverfull gardens and love are beautiful. His mouth is very gentle.He’s only ever shown Marvin kindness and he laughs often, but now hejust looks scared. Marvin wishes he could –

“Youdisgust me,” says Anti, and for a second, Marvin assumes it’s justinside his head, but then he realizes his mouth has moved, and Hesedfrowns.

Hedoesn’t shout or reject him, though. He just repeats: “Marvin.What’s wrong?”

Marvinshoves away from him, spilling his flowers onto the floor, and hedarts past him to the bathroom. He can’t tell if it’s him or Antimoving.

Andthen he is in front of the mirror.

AndAnti looks back.

“I’mgoing to kill your little darling,” Anti sings, opening the firstdrawer of the shelves beneath Hesed’s sink. There’s a toothbrush anda first aid kit inside.

“No,”Marvin whispers. Tries to whisper. There’s no movement on his tongue,on his mouth, on his face.

“No?You don’t want me to? You can’t see him again.”

“Iwon’t see him again. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have come. I was justlonely. I’m sorry.”

“Ringaround the rosie,” Anti sings, opening the second drawer, whereHesed’s medicines are arranged in neat categories. Anti’s fingersmuse over a powerful antihistamine near the back, but then he moveson. Marvin hears Hesed swear and mess with his phone.

“Pocketfull of posies…”

“He’scalling Jackie,” Marvin warns. Anti wipes tears off their face. “Ifhe comes, he’ll stop you.”

Alie. They both know he’s lying.

“Ashes,ashes!” Anti opens the bottom drawer, where Hesed stores his razorand clippers and the thin sort of scissors hairdressers use to trimoff split ends. Anti glances up at his reflection and smiles.

“Jackie?”Hesed demands. “Jackie, it’s me – he’s here, he locked himself inthe bathroom. You need to come right now.”

“I’lldo whatever you want,” Marvin struggles to speak. Anti doesn’t evenseem to notice the battle he’s waging. “Whatever you want. Just lethim go. We can go back to Cassie’s apartment. He’s not a part ofthis. He’s not a part of this. Let him go.”

“Youlove him?” asks Anti sweetly.

“I– I – he – ”

“Admit,kitty. I want to hear you say it.”

“Ilove him. I love him, let him go.”

“No,he didn’t say,” Hesed is explaining. He sounds frantic. He soundsscared. “Jackie, please – what, am I just supposed to let thishappen? You want me to step back and leave it to you? I love him –”

“Callyourself my bitch,” Anti continues, sing-song, delighted.

“Andyou’ll leave him alone?”

“Callyourself my bitch, say it.”

“Fuck,I – I’m your – ” Marvin chokes on his dignity. Anti snatchesthe silver scissors out of the bottom drawer, teeth bared.

“No,please! I’m your bitch!”

Antieven lets their mouth move to speak it. It makes the demon laugh,loud and erratic.

“Holyshit,” whispers Hesed, and the handle of the door shakes, hard, buthe can’t break in. “Darling, it’s okay, whatever’s wrong, we’regoing to get you help, okay, I’m here, I’m right here.”

“I’msorry,” Marvin manages to choke out, but then Anti is in controlagain, and the silver scissors are still in hand.

“Okay,”grants the demon. “He doesn’t need to be punished. What a sweet boyhe is. You do, though. Yeah, kitty. Look at your pretty hair. Youdon’t need that anymore. You’re not gonna see your little worshipperever again.”

Hegrips the braided bun on Marvin’s head – on his head. Not reallyhis style.

“Ringaround the rosie, pocket full of posies, ashes, ashes!”

Marvinis crying.

“Weall fall down!”

Anticuts his hair off.

Heloses control rapidly after that.

Jackiedoesn’t show up in time to resist either of them. Anti slams Hesed’shead against the side of the bathroom door until he’s unconscious andditches Marvin’s phone.

Theydon’t go back to Cassie’s. He doesn’t know where they are. It smellslike dust and no one bothers them. It’s more like an office buildingor a warehouse than a home.

Anti,not yet strong enough to hold the reigns for long, lets Marvin go fora few hours, but all he does is fail at warding off a complete mentalbreakdown.

Hewants his friends and his violinist. He wants Jameson, Chase, Henrik,and Jackie. He wants Jack.

Ican’t keep him safe. I can’t keep the demon away. I can’t even savemyself.

Itburns to admit. It burns. Anti laughs.

Marvintears at the torn remains of his hair and weeps.

Hehates this, he hates this, he hates himself, he hates this.

Dayspass and he begins to die. His panic transfers to power and his heartcan’t take the constant outpour. Flowers and fire and floating thingsaround him. He hears thoughts that aren’t his when they’re on thestreet and sometimes dead things appear in the edges of his vision.He can’t sleep. Anti doesn’t feed him.

I’mlosing my mind, I’m losing my mind, I’m losing.

“Youwant to be saved,” says Anti softly. “I know, sweetheart. Go on,say it.”

“Iwant to be saved!”

Hedoes, he does, he does.

“I’llbe with my human again soon.”

DidAnti say that or did he? Is this even his flesh? Anti gives him a fewminutes of control and he spends the whole time staring at his hands,trying to force himself to realize that they’re his.

Thisis real. This is real. Is this what I’ve become?

Hefinds himself in front of a mirror. He doesn’t know how much time haspassed. He doesn’t know what Anti’s done.

Hiswhole face – from his forehead to his chin, from ear to ear – iscovered in deep, heavy-bleeding scars.

Criss-cross,straight, long and short. There’s too much blood in his right eye forhim to see out of it, or maybe Anti has popped it out.

Heis the ugliest thing he’s ever seen.

“Wantanother one?”

Ittakes him a long time to realize Anti is asking him a question.

“No,”he says, dazed.

Hypnotized,he realizes absent-mindedly. That’s why nothing hurts. When did thathappen? He doesn’t remember anything.

“You’lldie in a few days,” says Anti gently. “After I leave you to goback to my human. How does that sound?”

Hismouth opens and closes again. For a second, he sits in the haze ofAnti’s power, but then his fear sets him free.

“No!”he screams, jerking back, and pain – no, fire, sunfire, hellfire –erupts through the slashed flesh of his face. His eye is actuallygone; he can feel the empty squelching of veins in its socket.Horror and revulsion explode like smoke bombs in his ribcage. “No,I don’t want to die! I want to go home! I want my family! I want myfriends! Jameson! Jackie! Sean! Sean!Please, someone help me! Please, God, pl – ”

Hechokes and vomits as Anti yanks back control, throwing him to theback of his own head. Marvin screams in whatever medium he has leftand thorns explode in the walls around them, tearing through cheapcork walls and tile flooring to wrap around Anti’s wrists – no, hisown wrists, where he used to hang his bracelets or tug on the ends ofhis gloves, his wrists, his body. A holler comes from his mouth, andthis time, the cry is Anti’s.

“Littlebrat,” hisses the demon, tearing at the thorns. He laughs as theytear deep into Marvin’s wrists, causing them both hurt. “Look,aren’t we joined close now? You can’t get rid of me and you werestupid to think you could. Say it, admit it. You can’t get rid ofme.”

“We’llfind a way,” Marvin snarls.

Andit is he who drags them to their feet.

“Who’s‘we?‘” Anti laughs.

“Mybrothers. My friends. Sean and I. Fine, you’re right, I was stupid. Ishould never have tried to handle this alone.”

Heshoves through the barricaded door of the abandoned building andstumbles down into the street. Someone screams. He wonders if they’llcall the cops. He needs to get home, soon. Lucky for him, Anti’sarrogant. He doubts they’re far from his family. He grabs the man whoscreamed and, in a polite slur of exhaustion and blood loss, asks himwhich way it is to Carnation Park, close to home.

“Youthink your brothers will want you?” Anti hisses as they barrel downthe street, blood dripping down their face. “Look at you. Look atyou. Look at you.”

Marvinswallows back copper. Passes by his favorite bookstore. Inside, hesees Dominic – warm, friendly, funny Dominic, an old friend –working the counter.

“Gotalk to him,” laughs Anti. “Show him your missing eye and yourshorn hair, little sheep. He’d help you!”

Shamewells in Marvin’s gut. He can’t bear to think of Dominic seeing himlike this. He keeps going, dizzy and sick. Bleeding fast.

Hesed’sapartment building rises before him.

“Gosee him! Your love! Your darling! Go kiss him and have him call yourbrothers! Or do you think he will have forgotten what you did?Tearing into his house like a freak, flowers squirming with growth inyour arms, cutting off your hair in his bathroom and leaving himunconscious and afraid. He probably thought you were high. But heloves you, doesn’t he? Go see him!”

Tearsburn in Marvin’s eyes. No, Hesed won’t want him after that. And hedeserves better anyways.

“I’mclose enough I can get to my brothers,” he croaks, and the demonlaughs.

Theystumble. Anti hasn’t cared for Marvin’s body at all. Maybe themagician will die soon after all. He’s never missed Henrik more.

It’sbeen weeks, but Carnation Park is the same as it always is.

Onlya block away from the hidden house, this place has always beenimportant to them. This is where Chase brings his kids when they’rewith them, pushing them up and down on the swings for hours on end.Jameson kissed his first romance here, beneath the bird’s nest wherethe woodpeckers live – came home flushed and proud, grinning fromear to ear, someone else’s scent still lingering on his jacket. WhenHenrik’s trauma was trapping him in the house, this was the firstplace he forced himself to walk to, and when Jackie was exhaustedafter a fight, this was where he came to watch the leaves fall andstop thinking about anything at all. It is the address they give tocab drivers, the meeting spot for any excursion, the place marked“Home” on all their Google Maps.

Andit is here that Marvin stops.

Stops,sinks, collapses onto a green bench beneath a dogwood tree by the moss pond, and can go nofurther.

Fora minute, Anti is quiet too.

Theywatch the birds flit through the trees. Someone’s dog barks. It’stwilight and the moon is already visible in the blue-dusk sky.

Thereare flowers everywhere. It’s spring. Marvin can’t see them. There isblood and salt in his eyes.

Whyare you crying? asks Anti.

Hissmile makes Marvin’s mouth turn up. Cold and hateful. Too manyreddened teeth.

Ithought you were going to get help. I thought you were going back toyour little hiding hole. Isn’t there something you were looking for,kitty cat?

Marvinsobs.

Curlsup on himself on that park bench.

Bloodstains his black dress pants.

“Iwant my brothers,” he whispers. “Please, please. I want myfriends. My brothers. My human.”

“Oh,Marvin,” says Anti, lifting up their head slowly, slowly. “Youthink any of them will want you now?”

“They’dlove me no matter what,” Marvin screams. “They’d love memutilated. They’d love me blind. I know that! I know that!”

“Butyou don’t go to them! And forget the way you look, my dove, myrabbit, my witch. Don’t you know what I’ve used this body for? Deathand worse, faekid. Death and worse. Rosebushes bursting fromribcages…”

“No!”Marvin howls.

Isthe blood on his hands from his face or his enemies? He doesn’tremember. He didn’t know. It’s not his fault. “It’s not my fault!It’s not my fault! I didn’t know!”

“Oh,puppet, but you remember some of it. You remember calling yourselfmine. You remember leaving that forest, even though it was your lasthope. You’ve had a thousand chances to kill yourself, and maybe takeme out with you, but you haven’t! Coward boy.”

“No,”Marvin says again. It is the only thing he can say. He can hardlyspeak through the rapid-fire beating of his heart, hardly thinkthrough the heat swallowing up his brain. “No, no, no.”

“Yourfriends? You think they’d be proud, to see what you’ve become? They’dhand you over to the police, don’t you know that? Hand you over andremember you as a freak. You can’t trust them. They don’t want you.

“Yourbrothers? You think they could still love you, after this? You ranaway from them. And for what? I’ve won anyway, Marvin. Now you’re alittle murderer. I should have let Jackie catch us as we took theirlives. I would have loved for you to see the hatred in his eyes. Therevulsion. Ugly little thing.

“Andas for my human –well, pet, you and I both know Sean would never want you after this.He created you to save him. And could you do it?”

Alie.

Jackdid not create Marvin to save him.

Hejust wanted a friend.

Hejust wanted a brother.

Inthat moment, Jack would have done anything for Marvin to come home.Would have given anything to wipe the blood from his face, smooth his short hair, and hold him close, close, close. The others would burst in too, so relieved it would make their chests hurt. Henrik would patch everything up and make all the pain go away, and Jackie and Chase would be there too, soothing and comforting, distracting him for hours on end and promising him safety, and Jameson - Jameson, JJ, his friend, his brother - would stay by his side and cling to him for hours and hours and hours, the word “love” pressed in sign language against his heart.

ButMarvin doesn’t come home.

Marvin doesn’t come home.

“AmI wrong?” asks Anti.

Bloodand salt. Black flowers beneath hisfeet. He’s never seen any flowers like them.

“Justgo to them,” Anti mocks him. “Just go. Go to your friends. Go toyour brothers. Won’t they be proud? Won’t they be proud to see you?Magnificent. Magnificent. Get up. Isn’t that what you wanted? Getup.”

But Reader, Marvin never does get up.

Marvinnever does get up.

JustAnti.

Theflowers in Carnation Park wither.

[darkhymns-fic]

Hollowed

Lloyd would make sure to stay by her side, even when everyone said she was already gone.

Fandom: Tales of Symphonia Characters/Pairings: Lloyd Irving/Colette Brunel, Raine Sage, Genis Sage Rating: G Mirror Links: AO3 Notes: For Tales Whump Week, Day 7, “Stay with Me.” Bit of a tragic romance, fair warning. (I’m sorry).

It was Lloyd’s role to help make camp for the night.

He would find a place underneath the wide-branched trees, the moonlight seeping through the space between the leaves. He’d make sure to put out the campfire when it was time, stomping out the ash and in turn, the smoke. He’d roll out their sleeping packs, always making two, although one would remain virtually unwrinkled by morning. He’d feed Noishe when the dog-creature came back from his wanderings, scratching behind his ears, Lloyd brightly smiling as he did so.

Once all that was done, Lloyd would look forward, to where Colette stood, staring out into the night sky. The soft hue from her wings would paint the grass beneath her, making the stalks turn dark violet. Before he called out to her, he would always hesitate.

“Colette, we should go to bed now.”

But she’d been awake for the past three years.

Genis once told him it was hard to look at her face for very long. The flat plateau of red that gazed out from those eyes only made the heart slow. Time was meaningless for Colette, so anyone who looked at her felt that same meaningless reach out to them, leaving them stranded in silence and monotony.

Lloyd couldn’t really understand such a feeling. Why look away? Doing so would only leave Colette alone.

He watched her come to him, footsteps even, her hair barely lifted by the air. She was framed by her wings, which she rarely dismissed. As if the eyes were not enough of a reminder.

“There’s supposed to be a bunch of Exsphere traders to the south,” Lloyd told her, stretching out the blankets a bit more. The night was cold, so he kept his jacket buttoned around him tight. “Somewhere near Triet. Remember? I wonder if they have that old poster of me somewhere…”

Colette said nothing. Instead she knelt on the grass before him, her eyes fixated on his movements.

“I guess they’d have gotten rid of it by now.” He sat down as well, then tried to call Noishe over. But the dog fidgeted, scurrying back to the trees as much as possible. “We haven’t been there for a while…” He turned back to Colette to smile at her. “Kind of exciting, huh?”

Colette’s eyes were full of crimson and reflected starlight.

.

.

.

There were four moments when Lloyd felt the world around him falling away. And one where he decided against it.

The first was when she stepped away from him and said goodbye. After that, neither a failed necklace, an old dwarf’s failing hands, nor weakening hopes could change the inevitable. Colette’s soul was lost, and in her place was a marionette, motivated by the guidance of others and self-preservation written into her core.

It was enough to have her break Pronyma’s arms in two in that parallel world. Raine had explained that Colette’s basic instincts must have thought the woman was reaching out to strangle her. Her voice had been shaking just as much as Lloyd’s heart did, remembering the loud crack and the Grand Cardinal’s screams. It had even been enough to quiet down Zelos for a few hours.

In Sybak, Kratos had come to Lloyd alone. “You should leave it be.”

That was before, when hope still kindled in his chest. “Why? So you and Cruxis can take her?”

Lloyd’s hands had been on his sword hilts. Kratos made no similar motion. His face showed much of nothing, keeping him as unreadable as the day they first met. “Do not get your hopes up. Sometimes we lose something precious, and nothing can be done about it.”

In the hotel they stayed at, Colette would stare out the window, the light of her wings shining like a beacon, lost in fog.

The second was when a new face came to share the grief. Someone who had never known that Colette could still laugh after a brutal fall, or wave away certain greens from her dinner plate.

That face was Zelos, one that shared Colette’s status, if not her ultimate destiny. His nickname for her seemed more cruel than anything else. There was no need for reminders – her wings, always manifested, were enough. He once tried to sidle up to her, teeth wide in a grin, as he bestowed upon her a shower of compliments that made Lloyd’s head stir with static. Just before he could tell the other to cram it, Zelos walked ahead, eyes lowered, lips twisted with something that Lloyd hesitated to call a smile.

Then there came more. With Presea, the engulfing presence of silence, of walking death, was becoming harder to ignore. Yet even Presea would speak, no matter how hollow her throat was, and she took no offense to Genis holding her hand as they both traversed a fallen log in the Gaoracchia forest. Lloyd could only look to Colette, watching her avoid the obstacle with her wings, and his hands would clench.

Genis and Raine would speak of Colette, of who she used to be, to each new face that joined their quest. To explain away the loss of a friend is difficult, even more so when they were standing just behind your shoulder. Not that Lloyd would ever say she was lost – merely absent, sleeping, waiting for someone to wake her up. He listened to their explanations, and it never felt enough.

Regal was the only new face that spoke with him directly. “She means much to you, doesn’t she?”

They got the ore from the mine that night. Ideas flitted through Lloyd’s mind as he wondered how he could coax Colette to borrow her necklace. Or perhaps make a new one, one that was better, one that would actually work despite his lacking skills. “We’ll get her back.”

Regal seemed to know when to end conversations. He didn’t press on and instead said, “Thank you for helping Presea as well.”

“I have to save the people in front of me,” Lloyd answered him.

When did he become such a liar?

The third was at the Iselian Ranch, when Colette, the girl who sliced through Desians without remorse, did the unthinkable.

No one understood why she would put herself in harm’s way. Perhaps it was the bubbling of the world’s mana as Sheena prepared the cannon, messing with the crystal’s hold on her. Lloyd was as surprised as anyone that she rushed in front of Forcystus’ weapon, taking the brunt of his shot. His hands still ached from the strain of plunging his sword deep in the half-elf’s torso.

It was pure luck finding out about Colette’s sickness, the crystal eating up her skin. Raine theorized that perhaps this was her self-preservation at work, revealing her problem because she innately knew that they would do something about it. Lloyd had to bite his lip to keep from shouting at her, speaking of Colette as if she wasn’t right here with them. She wasn’t dead, no matter how much everyone else might have wished that.

Then Zelos made the mistake of speaking. “Well, least she ain’t really bothered by it.”

Genis was only successful in holding back Lloyd from throwing a second punch.

The fourth was back at the tower, further gone, and crueler than the last.

The only reason Lloyd knew anything about Martel was because of Colette. The stories she would tell him, learned from her Church lessons, the soft recitations of prayers he would hear her speak beneath her breath, and the awe in her eyes of knowing the benevolence of such a Goddess. It was only through Colette’s mouth that Martel ever seemed important.

He had fought his way through the tower, and then Colette stepped out of that small chamber, her wings vanished and her steps no longer so autonomous. Yggdrasill had been radiant, hands reaching out, draped in blinding light. Colette’s eyes squinted from the strain, her mouth shaped in an o. She pressed one hand against her chest, each motion of her so human and so real that Lloyd was ready to rush to her, to make sure that nothing of her left was still as rigid as steel.

Then when she spoke, a different voice left her throat.

After Yggdrasill vanished and Colette went back to being motionless, pink and violet sparkling from beyond her head, Lloyd hadn’t realized how much he had been crying since then.

The now single world moved on, but Colette never shifted.

Lloyd took her to his home once everything was done with. Kratos had been seated by the table, leg still aching. “What will you do now?” he asked his son.

Behind him, Lloyd could hear his dwarven father continue his metalsmithing, unmindful to the turbulence of the world for the past couple of days. His dedication to his commissions was almost to a fault. “Me and Colette will be gathering the Exspheres.”

Kratos’ impassivity broke slightly. He looked pained. Lloyd could hear the words waiting on the man’s breath. She could join with me and the others, on Derris-Kharlan.

“Colette loved Sylvarant,” he said quickly. “I think she’d rather be here.”

When Raine and Genis visited later, they were a little more forceful.

“Lloyd, I really don’t think this is a good idea.” Genis sat at the same table, fingers tapping the surface. Colette was seated next to him, back straight, her gaze boring into the wall across from her. “You remember that fighting with her was always like walking on eggshells, right?”

Whenever someone got too close, especially as they swung a weapon, Colette would lash out. She could only stay back, summoning her spells, a wide berth of emptiness around her.

“She’s getting better,” Lloyd stated, carefully sheathing both his fathers’ swords. The pit of his stomach was cold. “She’s already more used to people now.”

“Wishful thinking,” Raine countered back. “Lloyd. You should come with us. You can still find Exspheres as we move along. What Colette needs now is an environment where she won’t be challenged into her defensive measures at every possible opportunity.”

Lloyd’s voice grew hard. “She can’t go home.” He saw Frank and Phaidra’s faces. Their young daughter and granddaughter might as well have been dead to them. It’s easier when you thought of someone dead instead of suffering, he realized. “And I won’t have Kratos take her. What if she finally wakes up and she finds herself all alone with strangers?”

��I thought we explained this to you.” There was condescension in Raine’s voice that he hadn’t heard since he was in the classroom. “Her soul is highly likely to be gone now. There is no one left in there to wake. Come with us.”

He hated himself for being tempted.

Genis stood, making his way around the table to get near Lloyd’s side. “Seriously, Lloyd. We tried everything. Maybe just-”

He had to go around Colette to do so though.

His body had slightly brushed against her shoulder. She turned, fingers wrapped around the chakram’s blade, and wound her arm back to strike. Lloyd rushed on top of the table, tackling Colette to the ground before she could slice open Genis’ neck. Raine gathered her little brother in her arms, scuttling them both to the front door. Both were pale.

“Colette!” Lloyd kept his arms around her as he held her from behind, locking her shoulder. “It’s okay! It’s fine!”

“Lloyd, get away from her!” Raine frantically searched for her staff, which she had left standing outside the home.

“No! It’s alright! Colette!” He embraced her tightly, face buried in the back of her hair. She moved violently, smashing him near the stove. Pans and vases fell around them. “No one’s going to hurt you! I’m here, okay? No one will ever hurt you!”

Then she had stopped.

The sudden stillness was more frightening than her movements from before. Hands lowered, and she laid back against Lloyd’s chest, looking up at the ceiling. Broken pieces of crockery fell around them like the mistakes of a watercolor painting. Genis and Raine didn’t dare to move forward.

All the while, Lloyd relaxed his grip, then placed one hand against Colette’s head. His breath nearly choked him.

“Everything’s okay,” he told her, ignoring his friends, attention only on her.

He would not let Colette fall away to nothing.

.

.

.

No one argued with Lloyd when he took her with him.

The last night before they set out, Colette had stood by Lloyd’s side. She seemed to watch over his shoulder as he got their supplies ready, as he talked with her, voice as light as it used to be. Dirk, more silent than he had been in years, took the boy aside.

“I’ve fixed up the nicks in your swords. Fully reinforced. Not even another mad god can damage them.” The dwarf held out the materia swords to his son, their dancing colors of red and azure slipping through their sheaths.

“Thanks,” Lloyd said, reaching for it until Dirk placed a thick hand over his.

“You come back whenever you need to. You and Colette. Understand?”

Lloyd recognized this. The same worry that had passed over Kratos’ face the last time he saw him before leaving. Only difference was that Kratos hadn’t uttered these words, knowing that he could not promise Lloyd anything else but a memory.

He nodded at the dwarf, and took the swords. “We’ll be okay. I promise.”

Lloyd wouldn’t leave Colette alone anymore.

So on that night they camped underneath the stars, Lloyd stayed beside her, reaching for her hand. It was cold, barely reacting to much at all. He kept his grip, intertwining their fingers together. If he kept looking up at the stars, he could imagine it was just like how they always used to be, back in Iselia. She would sit next to him on the grass, trying to match patterns in the sky, and she’d laugh while doing so.

But that’s what everyone did with Colette – look away, pretend she didn’t exist.

He turned to her, her gaze still hollow, but her hand never leaving his.

“Maybe I should have asked… if you wanted to come with me first.” A thumb rubbed against her palm, half-tracing words he was thinking. “Your family would still take care of you… and Kratos would, too. I guess he would know how to…” He paused, still looking at her. “But… I didn’t want that.”

The breeze had become sharp, the cold so deep that it made Lloyd shake. He reflexively reached for a blanket that he had folded up a bit messily, throwing it around both of their shoulders. Colette didn’t try to hunker down into it, and her side of the blanket kept slipping off her shoulder. The light of her wings slipped through the material, still hovering behind them, lighting up the grass in soft, dark hues.

“Ah, sorry,” he said, still looping the blanket on her until it finally stayed. “But I guess it wouldn’t –” he stopped himself before he could go on. He just kept the blankets on them both, bending his head slightly. He could see her eyes clearly, even in the night’s shadows. If he looked hard enough, then maybe.

Then maybe.

“I just wanted you to stay with me,” he said. So odd to just hear his voice and not hers. But she breathed. Just slightly, just barely. But she did, and she was alive. How could no one else see that? “I messed up everything, I didn’t protect you like I said… But I still want you to stay with me.”

If she had a voice, wouldn’t she say how she wanted to leave?

Only since that time he had calmed her down, had he ever been able to stay this close. Throughout most of the journey, there was only distance, because to get near was too risky. But every day, she walked beside him. And every night, she sat next to him, too. That had to have meant something.

This was around the time that he would go to sleep, and she would stay seated on the grass, her wings the last sight he would see before slumbering. But he didn’t want to move. He didn’t want to let go.

“I love you, Colette. I’m sorry I never said that earlier.” He leaned in just a bit more, forehead just barely touching hers. Her eyes stayed the same. “I’m sorry.”

Then she leaned forward, too.

It was only towards the crook of his neck, resting her head against his shoulder. Her eyes never blinked, or shift their gaze from always looking straight forward, but she had moved, her hair brushing his chin. Something tightened around his hand. It was her own.

It had all been so small. Every action of Colette’s was like that now, everything except when she fought against a threat. It was small, but it had felt so alive.

Lloyd wrapped his other arm around her back, keeping her close, the blanket shielding them from the cold. Tears left his eyes, falling against Colette’s cheek. She couldn’t cry anymore, so he would do it for the both of them.

Her hand stayed in his grip, still holding fast. She would stay, she would stay.

[filmfanatic82]

Still My Person - Chapter 2: Raven’s POV

AO3 Link (HERE)

RAVEN’S POV:

“Reyes!”

“Fuck,” Raven grumbles into her pillow. She blindly gropes for the comforter, pulling it fully over her head with a deep, resentful groan. “Go away, An. I’m sick.”

There’s a moment of silence and then--

“Bullshit!”

Anya rips the comforter off of Raven in one fell swoop leaving her utterly exposed. Raven recoils, throwing her arm across her face, shielding her eyes from the harsh sunlight. “What the fuck, man!”

But Anya doesn’t respond. She instead grabs hold of the pillow from beneath Raven’s head and smacks her in the body with it.

“Ouch. Hey… C’mon, An.” Raven pushes herself up in the bed, smoothing back the stray flyaways from her ponytail. “What are you doing here?”

Anya takes a seat on the edge of the queen sized bed next to Raven and lets out a frustrated sigh. “Why do you think?”  

“Clarke told Lexa…”

“And Lexa texted me,” Anya finishes Raven’s sentence with a familiarity that says that this isn’t the first time they have found themselves in this situation.  

Raven’s fingers dance along the edge of the heather grey jersey sheets, avoiding Anya’s penetrating stare at all costs. She knows exactly why Anya’s has shown up unannounced in her bedroom at 10:30am on a Saturday morning. It’s the same, exact reason why she hasn’t been able manage to pull herself from the confines of her bed over the course of the last two hours. Ever since Raven had heard the sounds of keys being snatched up off of the kitchen counter, followed by front door slamming shut.  

“Talk to me, Reyes.”

“There’s nothing to talk about,” Raven mumbles in response, still unable to pull her eyes away from the bedding in front of her.

A deafening silence seeps into the room, surrounding the two of them. They simply sit there in it, as Raven continues to fidget with the edge of the sheets and Anya waits for a response. Raven more than knows that the waiting game isn’t one that she’s going to win. Not with Anya. Anya, may lack patience with many things, but when it comes to waiting people out, she is nothing short of a hands down expert.

And that’s the exact reason why the two have remained such close friends for all these years, even after their relationship fell apart. Anya just seems to know how to cut right through Raven’s overly confident facade and get straight to the heart. Regardless of how hard she tries to mask it.

There’s only one other person -- her person -- who can manage to do the same exact thing, but at the moment, they’re nowhere to be found. And it’s all Raven’s fault.

Anya lets the silence hang for another moment or two and then--

“Get up.”

“What?”

“I said, get up. We’re going out,” Anya flatly states and then get up off of the bed, goes over to the dresser, and starts rummaging through a drawer.

“Where?”

Anya grabs a t-shirt and jeans and harshly tosses them at Raven. “You know where.”

Raven catches the clothes and then lets out a long sigh. “Fine. But you’re paying.”

////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////

“Pay up,” Anya says as she walks over to the dartboard and pulls her dart out of the bullseye.

“How can you still do that? You’re on your third whiskey.” Raven reaches into her back jean pocket, produces her wallet, and pulls out a twenty. She shoves it into Anya’s out stretched hand, attempting to ignore the smug look of satisfaction plastered across Anya’s face.

“I’ll never reveal that secret. Not even to you, Reyes.” Anya picks back up her tumbler of whiskey and take a long swig. “Another game?”

“Gimme five. I need a refill first.” Raven makes her way back to their corner booth, slightly favoring her left leg as she does.

Anya takes note of this and slides herself into the opposite side of the booth. “When’s your next appointment?”

“Next Thursday.”

“You’ve got someone to go with you?”

Raven gives a nonchalant shrug of her shoulders, downs the end of her beer, and then motions to the nearby bartender for another. “I did. But who knows after today.”

“What time is it?”

“What?” “The appointment, idiot. What time is it on Thursday?”

“An…” Raven sighs with a hint of gratefulness to her voice. Although asking for help has never been her style, there has always been an unspoken understanding between the two of them, especially when it comes to Raven’s leg.

The accident had happened right in the midst of the rockiest part of their breakup. Anya had been driving at the time with Raven in the passenger's seat. It had been one of those car rides. The silent and deadly types. The ones where neither one refused to talk out of pure and utter stubbornness.

Three years later and Raven still doesn’t have many clear memories of the accident itself. She remembers sitting at the red light and starring Anya down, in an attempt to make the older girl as uncomfortable as humanly possible. All because they had had a stupid fight earlier that morning over who used the end of the milk. And then, nothing. Not even fragments of what happened. Just a massive, gaping hole where memories should be.

Part of Raven wishes she remembers… but there’s a larger part of her that’s eternally grateful she doesn’t.

Raven only knows what Anya and the others have chosen to tell her throughout the last couple of years. Mainly, just the cliffnotes and nothing else.

A man fell asleep at the wheel, ran a red light, and proceeded to t-bone their car, hitting Raven’s side dead on, leaving her right leg a mangled mess of broken bones and severed nerves. Anya, had managed to walk away from the crash, virtually unscathed with only a few gashes and two broken ribs, but emotionally, she was left an absolute wreck.

Although Anya will never fully admit it, Raven knows that she remembers every last detail… including having to helplessly watch as the paramedics shocked Raven’s heart back to life twice on the way to the hospital.

And truthfully, it was the accident that allowed them to seemingly transition from girlfriends on the verge of imploding, to life long best friends. With no bitterness or animosity towards each other. Just an unspoken and unbreakable bond to always be there for one another. Regardless the reason or circumstance.

“What time, Reyes?”

“4:30 at Mercy,” Raven says with a heavy exhale of breath. Anya nods in response and then takes a another long sip of her whiskey.  

A comforting silence settles between the two of them as they sit there for a few moments, simply watching the rest of the daytime regulars pound back their drinks of choice, then finally--

“You ready to tell me what’s going on?”

Raven runs her hands over her ponytail and shifts a bit in her seat as the bartender swings by, dropping off a fresh round for both of them. “Not really but I don’t have a choice, do I?”

“Well, we could always just continue to get shitfaced, but then you’d probably have to suffer the wrath of Clarke.”

Raven shudders as the thought crosses her mind. “I love that girl, but no thanks.”

“Yeah. No one deserves that,” Anya lightly chuckles in response. “‘Cept maybe my baby sister.”

“Commander heart eyes? Please. Clarke can’t even pretend to be mad at her for more than five minutes tops.”

Anya takes another swig of whiskey, ever so slightly grimacing as it burns the back of her throat. A tell tale sign that the alcohol is starting to take effect. “So…”

“So?”

“Reyes…”

“I dunno where to start,” Raven confesses in barely more than a whisper as her fingers mindlessly trace the lip of her beer bottle.

“Let’s start with the basics. Why aren’t you there?”

“I dunno.”

“Did something happen?”

“No. I just… I dunno. I woke up this morning and just… I just couldn’t do it.”

“You freaked.”

Raven gives a slight nod and downs a long, hard swig of her beer.

“And then what happened?”

“I made up a lame ass excuse saying I was sick and then O stormed out.”

“Why now?”

Raven shakes her head and shrugs her shoulders. “God, if I know. It’s not like it was a surprise or anything. They’ve been talking about this for weeks now.”

Another moment of silence falls between the two of them as Anya mulls her thoughts over, then—

“You wanna know what I think?”

“Not really, but you’re gonna tell me anyways.”

A chuckle slips from Anya’s lips at Raven’s response. She tucks her dirty blond locks behind her ears and gives a rare, comforting smile. “The unknown is fuckin’ terrifying.”

“Thanks captain obvious.”

Anya balls up a nearby cocktail napkin and throws it directly at Raven’s forehead. “I wasn’t done, dipshit. The unknown is terrifying…  especially when it comes to the person you love. And all you and O have done over the past three years is face the unknown. Head fuckin’ on. Time and time again. Without any hesitation whatsoever.”

“That’s not true.”

Anya raises an eyebrow in Raven’s direction and continues to sip on her whiskey.

“It isn’t.”

“What’d you do when O told everyone  that they wanted to change their name?”

“An…”

“What’d you do, Reyes?”

“I threw them an ‘it’s an O’ party.”

“And…”

“And got them custom plates for their Jeep.”

“And what did you do when O came out to Bellamy and he flipped his shit?”

“Okay. But if I hadn’t punched him, Clarke would’ve.”

“Fair point.”

Raven pounds back her beer, chugging way more than needed for a normal sip and then looks at Anya with a raw vulnerability that she rarely lets anyone see. “What if I’m not enough for them anymore?”

Raven waits for a response but it never comes. Instead, Anya just erupts in a loud, jarring laughter which is nothing short of unnerving.

“What?” Raven asks, clearly annoyed by Anya’s response.

Anya wipes the mock tears away from her eyes as she collects herself. “You’re an idiot.”

“An, I’m serious.”

“I am too. You, Raven Reyes, are an absolute idiot. You and O are soulmates. And you know I don’t believe in that shit. You two are just destined to be together. End of story. I saw it for myself that day in your hospital room. That person loves you in a way that no one else can. Not even me.”

A bittersweet smile spreads across Raven’s lips at these words. She starts to respond but somehow knows that it isn’t needed. That’s how their relationship just works.

The silence settles back in once again between Raven and Anya, as the two just sit and sip on their drinks.

BUZZ.

Anya’s phone buzzes against the wood of the table signifying a new notification. She scoops it up, swipes it open, and suddenly a devilish smirk crawls across her face.

“Who is it?” Raven asked slightly intrigued.

“Clarke.”

“What’d she say?”

“She didn’t. Just sent through a photo of O.”

Raven pauses for a moment, letting that info sink in, then goes to reach for Anya’s phone. But Anya is too quick. She yanks the phone just out of Raven’s reach, making sure not to show her the screen.

“No way, Reyes. No cheating. You’re just gonna have to go home and see it for yourself.”

“I hate you.” Raven mocks a pouts as she slumps back in the booth and takes another long chug of her beer.

“Right back atcha.” Anya lovingly replies with a bit of a wink and a smirk.

///////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////

A few hours and two more beers later and Raven finds herself standing in front of her apartment door, keys in hand but unable to will herself to move. Guilt ridden fear courses through every inch of her veins. It’s been growing ever since Clarke sent through a singular text. A text to let Raven know not only how amazing O looked but also not to fuck this up. That she had already done enough damage as is.

And that’s just it… What if it’s too late. What if this one singular stupid decision, has cost her everything?

What if her person doesn’t want to be her person anymore?

Raven takes a deep, sobering breath and pushes back down those thoughts. Then, mustering up every ounce her trademark confidence, she puts her keys in the lock, turns the knob, and opens the door.

“O?” Raven calls out as she cautiously makes her way into the semi- darkened apartment. At first glance it would appear that no one’s home, but she knows better. Raven spots little traces of O’s presence all throughout the foyer. Their beat up black converse hap hazardly slipped off, laces still tied. Their set of car keys with the corny O+R keychain that Raven has gotten them on their second anniversary on the key holder by the front door. And of course, the distinct smell of Thai wafting from the living room. Her and O’s favorite comfort food.

Raven drops her keys on the entry table, slips her shoes off next to O’s, and then with another deep breath, rounds the corner to the living room.

And suddenly… time seems to stand still.

There, sitting on the couch, is O— her O— staring back at her, with a collection of untouched takeout Thai spread out before them on the coffee table. Their signature ponytail, the one that they only tend to take out when showering, has been replaced with an androgynous looking undercut. Both the back and sides are shaved down to almost the skin, while the hair on top is somewhat on the longer so that it can be flipped from side to side.

The hairstyle hardens O’s classical features in a way that is nothing short of breathtaking. It amplifies their masculine side yet at the same time doesn’t fully push them too far in one direction nor the other. Instead, it allows O to perfectly fall right into the place that they’ve been desperately desiring to be for the majority of their life. Right in the middle.

“I picked up Thai. Clarke told me you and Anya went to Joe’s so I figured you’d be hungry,” O quietly states, matter of factly, devoid of any real emotion whatsoever, eyes locked in on the food before them.

But Raven can’t seem to find her words. Her brain is too preoccupied with the rapid fire of emotions that are fighting for dominance. Love. Passion. Desire. Guilt. They cycle through like cards being dealt. Each one flashing for the briefest of seconds before being replaced by the next.

O slowly rises from the couch, still unable to bring themselves to look Raven in the eyes, and nervously rubs their hands against the freshly shorn stubble on the back of their head. “Look. I know it’s a huge change and we never really talked about how it would—“

“You look like you,” Raven says in nothing more than a whisper.

Upon these words, O finally lifts their eyes to meet Raven’s, revealing the telltale signs that they’ve been crying.

“What?” A look of hopeful confusion sweeps across O’s face as if they are unsure of what they’ve just heard.

“You look like you, O,” Raven repeats herself, this time with a bit more confidence to her voice. Tears start to well up in her eyes as she watches a heart-swelling smile slowly emerge on O’s lips. “God, I’m so sorr—“

But before Raven can even finish her sentence, O closes the gap between them and savagely attacks the taller girl with a deep, bruising kiss.

Raven returns the kiss as her hands immediately snake upwards towards O’s head and is pleasantly met by the foreign sensation of the soft, prickly fuzz. It feels different but somewhat absolutely right. As if this is the way it has always meant to be.

After a moment or two, Raven and O both pull out of the kiss, resting their foreheads together as they attempt to catch a breath of air.

“So you like it?” O asks with a hint of lingering doubt.

Raven leans back, giving O a playfully dramatic once over, flipping the longer strands of their hair one way and then another. “Nope. I love it.”

O can’t help but smirk at these words. They entwine their fingers with Raven’s and lock eyes once again with a fierce but loving determination as if they’re once again ready to take on the world. “Still my person?”

“Always, O. As long as you’re mine.”

[gamerestart]

Games Developer’s Conference 2018: Day Two

Remember what I wrote about it remaining to be seen if we dodged the “con-crud”? Well, forget all that. We came down with it as expected after all—which is why this missive from the second day wound up being more delayed than I would like.

Onward.

Here I am in Day Two. I look terrible—there’s reasons for that which involve both a general lack of sleep and a surfeit of confusion.

By the end of the second day, trends became apparent, and I’ve had time to reflect on a number of these: 

VR

AR

Analytics

Ads

Cryptocurrencies. (Really.)

Virtual Reality (VR) was heavily represented here. I’m going to come out and confess that VR is not something I seem to be able to take part in. I suffer from migraines even under ideal conditions, and motion sickness besides. This limits my ability to participate in VR—the one time I tried, I became nearly claustrophobic when the goggles went on, nausea set in very quickly and I had to take the set off. Even Raven can't use most VR headsets for very long—safe to say, neither one of us are within the target audience for this technology.

AR is another matter, since it doesn’t depend on my ability to focus on an image mere centimeters from my eyes. But I think the utility is kind of dependent on a given external environment or other factors, so I, again, I don’t have much to say about AR in general. Most of the cases presented at the conference were little more than tech demos.

While AR seemed a mere afterthought to the conference at large, analytics seemed to be almost an obsession. Knowing what the users of a product are doing with it at all times, aggregating the data to make better choices and create better worlds to play in, &c. Much of this would be useful for game devs who are engaged in level design, and some cases for analytics were presented with just that in mind.

However, many cases for the use of analytics verged into what I perceived as somewhat invasive territory, and I admit to being uncomfortable with that. One exhibitor offered what they regarded as a compelling use-case for using their service—say, a user hasn’t been playing your game “enough”, and in this case, we'll use the particular developer's example of a week of inactivity for a particular user who tends toward making lots of in-app purchases. Notifications can be automatically generated and sent to the individual user's account - pushed to not only remind a player that the game “misses” them, but to also dangle an extra treat or bit of loot valuable to the gameplay experience to sweeten the deal: come back to the game, and you can have this thing which you might have found by yourself after a few hours on your own.

It’s important to realize that some of these games are being used to sell advertising, and lots of ads being played during the course of gameplay leads to more income for the developer. All well and good. But:

Whatever the developer sets as “not enough time spent in game” is something I see as ultimately arbitrary— perhaps more disturbing to me, however, is now the process is automated. Is a week really too much time away? And would I personally be more inclined to play a game that effectively “nags” me to play it? The implications for the particular developer that we are using as example here also seemed a bit classist to me – users that paid more real world money into the game were obviously targeted with more notifications and enticements to return, which leads to some uncomfortable questions that didn't manifest for us until much later. Were lower-paying or free-to-play users targeted with the same level and quality of loot? What does this ultimately do to game balance?

Obviously, most mobile devices offer some level of granular control of how and even who can hassle the device’s owner, but this shouldn’t be necessary to implement from day one, because it violates a key principle of ownership and how anyone might choose to spend their own time. Would some folk be grateful of the reminder? And choose to accept the digital gift being offered? No doubt. But it’s a little creepy in an industry known for creating compelling and even addicting experiences in the name of having fun in a harmless pastime which then provokes a user’s attention in order to justify selling a few more ads. That this data is then being gathered and monitored I have no doubt, but I think game developers should tread cautiously when presented with such tools, however tempting:

Games are toys. They should only command our attention when we are ready for them, never vice versa. Hassling players in order to provoke engagement may be tempting, but accepting a passive role in entertaining others is perfectly acceptable.

Games are the kind of entertainment often easily associated with poor experiences. How often has anyone said “I hate that game” or “that game gave me cancer” and meant they were having a good time and would recommend that experience to their friends? A game might not be objectively terrible, but no player is going to be objective while playing. If free-to-play comes with a high price to play (in an annoying coin), folk may remember only the bad things about the product and forget the good things. 

It never looks good seeing your company’s name (or more) in a headline along with the terms “data breach” or “users of [game] had their personal information hacked”—even if it was harmless. An easy way to avoid this is to never monitor your own users beyond accepting payments from them. Does this leave you in the dark with regards to valuable informatics? Yup. But it also covers things pretty well in light of what is turning out to be a fairly regular occurrence—and may even be part of the cost of doing business. In a free-to-play scenario, violating that trust also won’t be good for attracting new users to your product.

If I seem out of place with my tone here, given that I am at this point certainly (as I have amply established) a relative outsider, consider that most game devs still come from games players. These things struck me as obvious, but as I’ve learned, no industry is 100% infallible when it comes to trends or even groupthink.

Ads seem to be a potentially good way of helping fund a project.

But I don’t really know if there’s a best practice for this. Ads are ads—there’s not much anyone can do to avoid ads, given how pervasive they are in television, magazines, and, recently, movie theaters. Why not in games? So long as information which doesn’t belong to the advertisers isn’t being handed off to third parties, I’ve no objection to ads as a revenue stream.

I will say I prefer to pay for games outright. That seems more sustainable and less susceptible to external factors over the long haul. It also seems like a small company could carve out a comfortable niche doing only games which are available for a small fee.

Some advertising requires a transaction, either a tap/click or other form of interaction either to dismiss the ad or—for those rare occasions when a player might actually want what’s being advertised—click through. Obviously there are entities ready and able to handle those transactions and deliver some sort of fulfillment—whatever it is—on whatever’s being offered. Certainly, groups who do not only ad design but make playable games within ads themselves were represented at GDC. (That latter one is clearly new to me, given the demise of Flash, but considering the ubiquity of JavaScript, maybe it shouldn’t at all.)

Ad Delivery is understandable. Cryptocurrencies, however…

What I don’t understand is the presence of cryptocurrencies (not just one, but I counted four when we went), some of whom represented themselves as an alternative to paying for games outright, possibly in exchange for a little (or more than a little) of a game player’s CPU/GPU time or unused disk space to facilitate mining.

Let me get this out right now: I don’t regard cryptocurrencies as valid economic vehicles, investments, or even valid currencies. Right now, they seem to be digital tulips run amok. I confess to dabbling with a bit of “mining” in the past, but the frustrations associated with cashing out now that the market has become so unstable has only affirmed what I believe about cryptocurrencies. It’s clear that crypto has a lot of black market movements associated with it, and some decidedly unsavory political movements as well as money laundering. It doesn’t matter to me that fiat currency is likely based on nothing tangible, except the agreement of an entire nation or treaty group that is has value, and the militaries that often come with such arrangements—something no cryptocurrency will likely ever have.

So I remain a hard skeptic of cryptocurrencies and all of their attendant industry, which is why it was a surprise to see any cryptocurrency represented at a game design conference.

My reading on this presence is as yet incomplete.

[peeppeephellofatface]

There it is. The fic where Mal dies.  Not “canon” so to say, just sort of a what-if scenario I kept thinking about.  Primarily inspired by  seeing someone describing a static loco as being in “dead storage”, but also by how it was when my mom’s dog passed last year and how I felt leaving Universal after riding Dragon Challenge for the last time before those two coasters close next month. 

Obviously, it’s about death and dying and pretty descriptive about that part, so it’ll probably be upsetting to many, if not most people.  Only other warning is a very brief mention of a character getting sick.. 

It wasn't as if they'd forgotten him.  He was practically immortalized in the record books and likely wouldn't fall completely into obscurity unless human society was obliterated or progressed so much that steam power was simply a blip in the larger scope of human history.

Something was definitely.... wrong with Mallard.

Something was certainly happening to him.  Those that knew him in his prime  may have been saddened to see what preservation had done to him.  But anyone who had seen him even once before would have been horrified to see what was he was going through now.

It started with him seeming... off.  It didn't strike them at first. Most assumed he was just slipping into a funk as he often did.  Something usually came around to improve his mood in those cases.  then months passed and he didn't seem to snap out of it.  In fact, it seemed to only get worse.

As he had remained static for longer and longer, he had gradually lost his physical strength and energy.  People were well aware of that.  After several decades of it, he behaved how many older museum pieces eventually did- he became lethargic and largely inactive, spending more time as a face on his engine and not moving around as much when he did come out in his humanoid form.  He might have been sleeping more, but they weren't entirely sure since he'd also had trouble falling asleep at night even in service and tended to nap more than most.  

But more recently, he seemed almost lifeless.  Often he'd sleep through the entire day, losing track of time in the progress.  In the earlier stages he was irritated by it and complained that he wanted an alarm or some sort of reminder to keep him from wasting the days away.  However, as time passed, his usual complains and sharp tongue began to fade  away. It started small-he wasn't as snippy as usual to those who slighted him, just groaned a bit.  But it only got worse.  It was a matter of time before his responses to most irritations became apathetic at best.  Soon he didn't even seem to pay attention to people when they spoke to him. He often didn't look at people when talking to them in the past, feeling uncomfortably confrontational with eye contact, but now he didn't even seem to just stare at walls.  He just looked zoned out and unfocused, gazing mindlessly.  When he did respond, he seemed confused and muddled and exhausted just by opening his mouth.

Perhaps the one who witnessed his decline most directly was Duke. Once their visits mostly consisted of talking and arguing, cuddling, and sharing meals.  But as Mal began going downhill, whenever he tried to spark a conversation, the most he would get was one of his half-lidded stares and perhaps a nod or shake or a groan, or if he was particularly lucky, a one-word reply. Most of the time he just carried him to the backroom and let him sit or lie on him lap and stroked his head silently.

His appetite had always been poor in preservation, as he didn't get hungry as often in his inactive state. But when offered some popcorn or cake or even his favorite bread, he would have a bite or two at most.  Unbeknownst to him, he sometimes had trouble keeping it down.  Eventually he became uninterested in eating anything.  Duke knew it was common for Mal to hide his hunger out of shame, but he didn't seem to even deny it when pressed, just halfheartedly shake his head.  

Perhaps the most saddening thing he witnessed was his lack of resistance when he felt his belly.  Partly how clammy he had become, partly because he had once hated being touched there and had previously been no stranger to squirming away or slapping at curious hands.  He wasn't sure whether him being that way because he had stopped caring about anything or wasn't mentally aware enough to care was more upsetting.

Duke was also the last one to see him out and about.  It had been another one of those silent meetings.  He had to carry him away from his engine because all he was capable or willing to do at that point was lay on the floor of his cab, scrunched up in a rather uncomfortable position.  Duke panicked from not knowing where he had gone when the face vanished prior to him materializing, until he looked all over and under the engine for him.  All he did upon seeing him was nod weakly.  As he lifted him up and cradled him in his arms, he was astounded and concerned by how limp he was.  He had to prop his head upright since it otherwise would flop over his arm.  

Once in the backroom, he had to maneuver him into position and see if he nodded in acceptance.  On that last meeting, he laid his head on Duke's shoulder and weakly hugged his torso, his legs tucked in loosely.  He was wordless, but squeezed lightly, seemingly attracted by his body heat.  They lay like that for several hours.  As Mal's condition had worsened, their meetings had grown longer and longer, since both knew... it was coming near and wanted to be with each other as much as they could before it came.  

He would leave him with the phantom feeling of soft thighs against his lap, with the sickening notion that he would never feel the real thing again.  It wasn't so much knowing what was going to happen that horrified him, but the constant feeling that his interactions with him at this point were numbered and would soon live on only as memories.  

In a matter of time, it became a rarity for him to even appear as a face, and when he did he was usually sleeping.  Perhaps it was too exhausting to keep up, perhaps he was inwardly embarrassed to appear that way to visitors and disappoint them, perhaps he had simply lost interest in even interacting with others as he had food.  Or perhaps he had reached the point where he was so delirious and numb that he couldn't manage it anymore.  

On the rare occasion that he was awake, staff and other engines often would stroke his cheek.  Usually he hated physical attention from strangers like them, but he seemed to somehow enjoy, or at least tolerate, the feeling and comfort of it now.  It was bittersweet for Flying Scotsman, who relished the fact that his cousin finally accepted his attempts at interaction, but was disturbed at the same time by how dull and lifeless his eyes were, how blank his face seemed to be all the time, and most of all, the persistent coldness.  

Nobody knew exactly when he went.  Once his appearances became weekly at best, they could never know which one would  actually be his last.  They treated each moment and meeting as if it was, and were pleasantly surprised when he appeared again.  It was believed that Duke and Flying Scotsman had been the last ones to see him alive, though.  They were rubbing his buffers and claimed to have seen him give them a vacant smile in a  brief moment of consciousness before slipping off to sleep and soon disappearing again.  

But eventually months passed without another encounter.  Some remained optimistic, as it could be difficult to tell when an engine in faceless state is actually absent or just hiding.  But those who knew him could feel that the presence he once had, even when hiding, was gone at that point.  His metal husk remained, but it was clear his spirit did not.

What killed Mallard?  It wasn't total obscurity.  Plenty of people saw him every day and knew his name.  As much as he would often push them away, he did have close relationships with other engines.  But what was forgotten was the time when he was in motion.  The idea of hearing the breath of his exhaust and call of his whistle blowing from his own steam as he ran down the tracks had virtually vanished from everyone's mind, including his own.  With his soul tied to the state of his metal body, his physical form as a humanoid or face was directly affected by the condition and perception of the engine.  The more people perceived him as a dead piece of stagnant metal, the more his life began to fade away until he eventually became exactly that.  

But perhaps he wasn't entirely dead, but rather dormant.  A Sleeping Beauty clad in black and garter blue.  Perhaps someday he would run again and hope would return him to life.  

[hutterlust]

Kraftwerk - Royal Albert Hall 21/06/2017

Kraftwerk are my favourite band. Their performance was spectacular. So why does this long-term fan have such mixed emotions about the whole thing?

It's an impossible gamble, going to see a band you've loved for 25+ years but never seen live. I don't just love Kraftwerk; Kraftwerk are like a way of life to me. With so much weight of love and expectations, how can four aging human beings be anything but a mild anticlimax?

Anticlimax feels like the wrong word for such a triumphant, spectacular show. In every sense, Kraftwerk embody perfection: perfect pop melodies, perfectly shimmering minimal-maximal arrangements, perfect integration of music, lyrical text and graphic imagery for an emotionally overwhelming experience. But that's just it. I was expecting to be overwhelmed. Other friends described crying in their seats. I felt excitement, arousal, sentimentality, amusement, wonder, and on the rare occasion, even faint ennui. But I was not overwhelmed, and I had expected to be.

The Royal Albert Hall is a beautiful venue, built with the very best of high Victorian acoustic sound design. Kraftwerk have a reputation for getting absolutely pristine sound quality in the most unexpected of places, concrete bunkers, glass art galleries, turbine halls, so this should not have been a problem. The sound design itself was astonishingly beautiful, the three-dimensional aspects of their electronic "sound-paintings" as spatial journeys, with fast German cars and express trains and spacelabs that genuinely seemed to whiz about one's ears in physical space, thanks to speakers above, to the sides, and even behind the audience. And yet where I was expecting perfect sound, I instead had a very annoying imperfection. The huge booming sub-bass, the hallmark of Kraftwerk's groundbreaking electronic sound, was distorted and harsh, where it should have been warm and oceanic. With the expectation of “perfect”, merely good feels like a disappointment.

And the 3D visuals themselves, I'm afraid, were not a success for me. I often have this problem with 3D imagery and Virtual Reality (there are studies to show that this is a phenomenon whose experience varies greatly with one's sex) that it makes me feel dizzy and unwell with a sensation like motion sickness. I used the 3D glasses for a couple of performances where it seemed churlish not to: Autobahn, with its racing cars; and Spacelab, where Kraftwerk showed off both their stunning sense of the sublime with satellite views and the romance of interplanetary travel, and also their subtle German humour. The films depicted Kraftwerk as interplanetary visitors, flying their probe over specially programmed local landmarks - the Geordies got the Tyne bridge, we got the Houses of Parliament - before landing at the venue. Kraftwerk’s gestures towards locality have been hugely popular in other cities, but provoked a mixed response at the RAH. Before the gig, chatting with other fans, I asked how far they had travelled. London gigs are by their nature hugely cosmopolitan; it turned out the man on my left had flown in from Zurich, while the man on my right was Italian. When I said I was from Streatham, the two men in front of me turned around and proudly told me that they were, too. When London appeared on the Spacelab’s viewfinder, a huge cheer went up from the Streathamites; our neighbours were understandably nonplussed.

With the glasses, the projections seemed so tangible, I reached out a hand to stop the Spacelab’s antennae poking my eyes out, but it was impossible for me to use them for more than a minute or two at a time without feeling sick. I suppose it was good for me as a listener, as it forced me to concentrate on the musicians, though I know this is the opposite of what the band intend. The point of Kraftwerk has, since the days of The Man Machine, been to erase the individual, to create four identical units behind their workstations. And yet watching the players from so close (I was in the third row) the most enchanting details were the highly personal ones. Even the way they stand is revealing. Falk on the far right stands very erect, his shoulders braced, the posture of a man avoiding backstrain, using a workstation designed for people about four inches shorter than him. Tiny Fritz beside him, stretches to change the settings on his controllers, while Henning and Ralf slouch far more naturally.

It's the moments when the Musikarbeiters reveal themselves as fallible, and therefore most human that are always the most delightful. Ralf flubs the final chord at the end of Airwaves, emits an audible "ach!" then slams his elbows down on the keyboard in a dramatic musical fart. He is naturally very shy, and barely speaks to the audience at all, so the moment at the end of Tour de France, where his excitement overcomes him, and he announces with gleeful boyish enthusiasm, that Le Tour is coming to Düsseldorf, provides an intimate glimpse into a very warm and human Ralf. It's a common criticism that Kraftwerk play "with the showmanship of four old men checking their email onstage" but the moment that a younger, impossibly beautiful and perfectly still Ralf appears in a 70s-era video for Radioactivity projected above the elderly Ralf's head, it's clear that their Kabuki stillness has always been an aesthetic choice.

And close up, the moments of intimate connection with their machines and with each other become far more apparent. Henning is a very physical player, he grasps his filter sweeps and seems to twist them with his whole body, contorting his legs until the splay of his knees matches the funk of his bass. During Chrono, Henning and Fritz demonstrate some impressively choreographed simultaneous leg-bends. Ralf taps an incessant beat with his right knee, and has particularly unquiet hands. He often plays a melody with his right hand, while adjusting a control with his left, but even when his left hand is unoccupied, he gestures like a maestro, beats time like a conductor, and seems to caress the very air that carries his soundwaves with a graceful fluidity and almost a femininity that speaks of the level of care he takes over his music. It is, all, played very live. The rare glitches and flubs and moments where Ralf alters a melodic line by half a beat or mispronounces a word, echoed through layers of vocoder and harmonic duplication only serve to highlight the utter perfection that Kraftwerk normally achieve. With the exception of The Robots, where the machines are left to play by themselves, it is for the most part not heavily sequenced. These are fallible human beings playing with and against and through the grid of the machine.

I arrived over an hour early at the Royal Albert Hall, which, given the stringent ID and bag checks (and the resultant queues, which delayed the start of the performance by nearly 20 minutes) turned out to be a very sensible choice. So I stood in the bowels of the building, while a friendly concierge held open the door to take advantage of the limited air conditioning, listening to the soundcheck, feeling my fangirl excitement rise. The whole thing felt unreal, until that moment, listening to Ralf level-check his vocals, his microphone, his vocoder, the mix level of the plug-in that allows him to manipulate the harmonics of his own voice using his keyboard, even barking at his technicians in his rapid-fire Düsseldorf German. Of course Ralf speaks to his crew in German, what other language would he use? (Well, over the course of the evening, he sings fluently in English, German, French, Spanish and Japanese, so this is not an entirely moot question.) But the detail still delights me.

But after the long wait, watching the band while they performed felt oddly unsatisfying. Rather than a concert or a rave, it felt like watching an extremely well-shot film of a Kraftwerk performance projected with perfect verisimilitude. I felt very detached from the show, a spectator at a spectacle, rather than a participant in a sea of bodies and minds melding to a hypnotic beat. Maybe it was the cramped seats. It is very, very hard to dance while seated (I gave it my best) and any attempts at dancing in the aisles were shut down quite quickly by enormous and terrifying bouncers. Many of the songs have been updated specifically for dancing – Spacelab has always been a banger, but Airwaves in particular has been remade with such a throbbing disco bassline that I quipped it had become “I Feel Space” (though it’s important to remember that both Moroder and Lindstrom are inheritors of a lineage of which Kraftwerk were the progenitors). Yet as I cast my eye over the front rows, all of us filming and photographing in flagrant disregard of the posted regulations (it’s odd that we were specifically told not to film, but smartphones were not policed in the way that dancing bodies were) I realise that it is not Kraftwerk who are trapped at computer terminals, checking their emails, unable to dance, but us.

I hate to admit it, but I was bored during The Model, though the audience certainly greeted it most triumphantly, the one moment where defiant dancers outnumbered the heavies. But that one line – “For every camera she gives the best she can” – lampshaded what former Kraftwerker Karl Bartos would later make explicit in his solo work. Photography, like scientific observation in the uncertainty model, changes not just The Model, but the Photographer, too. I was not just watching and listening to Ralf Hütter, but I was aware, constantly, of my Taschen-Computer in der Hand, wanting to capture every adorably satisfied smile, every hand gesture, every crinkle of that imperiously pointed nose demarking the beats of the song. I don’t hold the data-memory; the data-memory holds me. And it changes everything. I noticed, as I was focusing, for dozens of photos, that Ralf kept looking over, turning directly into the gaze of my camera.

At first, I thought this was due to the huge gender imbalance of the front rows. It’s odd. I know from online fandom that Kraftwerk have many, many female fans. Yet that concert, overwhelmingly, at least 2 to 1, was, as another lone woman behind me put it, “a sausage party”. (This, I believe is not about lack of female interest in Kraftwerk, but about age and demographics. I saw a number of older men attending with adult children. I saw no younger children at all. And unfortunately, removing children from an audience, in this culture, almost always means removing an entire generational block of women. However, this did make for a refreshing lack of bathroom queues.) There were perhaps only 3 or 4 women in the front section, all gathered just in the spot where Ralf coincidentally kept throwing his gaze. It’s a shock, the moment that one, as an audience member, realises that the musicians can see their audience. I recognise this may have been entirely my imagination, but there was a sequence (during Autobahn, IIRC) when Ralf was soloing particularly intensely, his legs far apart, his lyrca-clad crotch angled just so, in a stereotypically Rock Star, and particularly uncharacteristic-for-Ralf pose. But as I raised my camera a little higher to try to capture it, Ralf glanced up, appeared to lock eyes with me, clocked the camera, and immediately snapped to, standing up straight and closing his untowardly splayed legs. Ralf’s modesty was preserved; I did not get my photo of this particular area of interest.

It was not until much later, after the concert, going through my photos on the train home that I worked out what was really happening. In most of my close-ups, Ralf’s eyes were downcast, focusing very intently on something on the top left corner of his workstation. Fan photos of their equipment reveal that to the top left of Ralf’s keyboard are where the filter sweeps, pitch-bend wheel and other sound modification and control devices are located. Every interaction was almost certainly entirely my imagination. Ralf’s attention was not drawn by our presence, but by his own tech.

But my hunger for this moment of connection, so strong as to conjure it from brief glances, seems to highlight precise lack that prevents me from fully enjoying the show. When I listen to live Kraftwerk recordings alone, on headphones, the sense of connection is so complete, so total, that it can reduce me to tears. But at the venue, I cannot seem to exist in the moment, and not try to mediate the experience through a screen. But Kraftwerk’s very theme, through most of the work they play, from Airwaves and Neon Lights to Computer Love and Electric Café, and right through to the various Étapes of the Tour de France Soundtracks, is the mediation of communication through technology. “Transmission, television / Reportage sur moto / Camera, video et photo.”

Through the medium of technology, the group have preserved their own departed former members. To watch Kraftwerk live is to listen to ghosts, preserved flickering in their machines. The bombastic middle section of Trans Europe Express – Metall auf Metall – is a triumph of technology finally catching up with Kraftwerk’s ideas. For years, their percussionists struggled to recreate the industrial Klang of sheet metal using primitive, complicated drum-pads made from spare parts and triggered with electrically conductive knitting needles and rickety volume pedals. Now, each element of the cacophonous symphony is triggered by a fingertip’s touch on a sample pad. Kraftwerk have launched decades-long lawsuits detailing who, precisely has the right to use those samples. And yet, it seems odd how much of their sound-paintings (and 3D film-paintings) are dependent on the precise digital recreation of sounds (and images) of people who are no longer present.

Ralf’s long-term collaborator, the co-founder of the band, Florian Schneider, though his madcap, slightly sinister presence is long-gone from stage right, is, even in his absence, a constant, palpable presence to the observant fan. It is Florian’s heavily vocodered voice, rather than Ralf’s, that echoes through Radioactivity, enumerating the contaminated sites – Tschernobyl, Harrisburgh, Sellafield – whose accidents stand as warnings to us all. In the animations that accompany Autobahn, based on Emil Schult’s playful album cover painting, a VW Beetle and a Mercedes 600 Limousine chase one another about an imagined German countryside. The grey Beetle with Krefeld plates (I always thought the KR of those plates referred to Kraftwerk, until I visited Krefeld, and was surrounded by KR plates) was Ralf’s car, which Kraftwerk toured in through much of the early 70s. The presidential blue Mercedes, on the other hand, was Florian’s notoriously temperamental trophy ride, detailed in numerous Kraftwerk biographies. Knowing this detail, it’s hard to watch this film and not imagine the two Boy Racers still chasing one another down the Autobahn.

During the last encore’s medley, from Techno Pop into Music Non Stop, the projections showed Rebecca Allen’s groundbreaking wire-frame computer animations of the band in the 80s, looking both very cool and hip in a retro way, but still amazingly futuristic. Again, it is slightly disconcerting to watch a youthful Ralf’s digitised head rotating above his more elderly body. But as the animations lovingly detail the computerised creation of the wire-frame head from digital points, then lines, to angled surfaces and a recognisably human shape, it soon becomes clear that the face slowly materialising on the screen is in fact Florian, with his very distinctive prow of a nose, and bright, mad scientist eyes. Part of me wants to dismiss this as a simple mistake, choosing the wrong file; but another part of me wants to believe that Kraftwerk do not make mistakes, despite the plentiful evidence of the charming human fallibility of this tour. It feels deliberate, that Florian’s digital ghost still hangs heavy over this museum-quality archive of Kraftwerk’s performance.

In their traditional final sequence, each musician takes a final solo, showing off their Technik, before moving to the side of the stage for a final bow and a wave – or kiss – goodnight. At the end, Ralf is left alone, improvising steadily lower on a ghostly vocodered chorus of sampled “oh”s, until the pitch becomes too low for humans to hear. I’ve watched his livestreamed goodbyes from a dozen YouTubed performances, and yet he never fails to look surprised and a little overwhelmed by the intensity of the audience’s love for him. I am concentrating too hard on filming to see until later, his nervous ticks, his shy little jig of pleasure, his repeated bows, hand on heart – I could have sworn he blew us a kiss, but I may have forced that, too, into being with the strength of my own desire.

[dix813blog-blog]

three Good reasons Your Fortnite v-buck generator Is Damaged (And How to Repair It)

Gamers, younger kinds in any case, don’t feel to note these types of items. They’re immediately after assault rifles (ideally the Famous SCAR), pump shotguns, bolt-motion sniper rifles (the scope is really a boon), chug jugs, slurp juices, bandages, medkits, and defend potions. They see, and covet, skins that appear cool but have no bearing on activity play; for twenty bucks, you can don the Leviathan or maybe the Raven. Or they fixate on dance moves, the so-identified as victory emotes you can have your avatar perform, in the warmth of fight or after a eliminate. The Floss, the New, the Squat Kick, the Wiggle—these have spilled out into the whole world. You might see folks close to you, or Specialist athletes on Tv set, breaking into Peculiar dances. The one particular referred to as Take the L is big in recent times within the Bundesliga and at Minute Maid Park.

VBUCKS IN FORTNITE

Plenty of accomplished players glimpse down their noses at Fortnite, just how, Probably, that some jazz and blues diehards, in 1964, dismissed the Beatles. The dances, the alliterative place-names, the dearth of legitimate postapocalyptic menace: these can suggest an absence of seriousness that to some appears spell-breaking. A classmate of Gizzard Lizard’s, ZenoMachine, a gamer for for a longer period than seems plausible (he commenced actively playing Crew Fortress 2 in kindergarten and now develops his personal game titles), is definitely the eighth grade’s resident Fortnite Scrooge. “Firstly, I’m not a enthusiast with the polygons,” ZenoMachine advised me. We were being with a park bench, just after faculty—a unusual hit of daylight. “It's got a hi-res texture but reduced-res polygons.” Gizzard Lizard had warned me which i wouldn’t have an understanding of ZenoMachine, but I gathered that he was critiquing the game’s aesthetics. He favored a realer search. He objected to specified inconsistencies. The pickaxe, such as, which players use to demolish partitions and buildings, brings about Nearly no damage to other gamers to be a weapon. “How can that be?” he mentioned. “I see why a great deal of folks like Fortnite. It targets players who aren’t expert. But it really violates the rules of consistency.” He explained that the first time he played he gained—by hiding out until eventually Every person else experienced practically been killed off. This is recognized as camping, and is particularly frowned on by frequent players. “If one thing so simple as player selection influences one other gamers’ encounter, you’ve obtained a layout flaw,” ZenoMachine claimed.

ZenoMachine develops his own video games employing a platform known as the Unreal Motor. Fortnite, mainly because it occurs, is developed to the Unreal Engine, also. The game will be the generation of a firm known as Epic Games, based outdoors Raleigh, North Carolina. In 1998, Epic launched a first-person shooter identified as Unreal, which loved only moderate good results but which, Nearly by chance, had an enduring influence within the evolution of movie online games. Epic utilised Unreal’s underlying architecture, and a few of its areas, to generate what arrived to be referred to as the Unreal Engine, a standard platform that supports all method of games, be they shooters, brawlers, platformers, or sandbox R.P.G.s. It’s essentially a set of tools that builders can use to design and Create games and also other simulations. Rather than starting from scratch in, say, C++, the favored graphic-coding language, independent builders along with other firms utilize the Unreal Engine to produce their unique game titles. (The licensing in the motor, consequently, provides Epic the funds stream to dedicate time and sources to the development of strike online games like Fortnite.) Annually, Epic takes advantage of existing games, many of them all but overlooked, to soup up the Unreal Motor, to ensure that it may possibly manage an ever far more complex array of calls for. Fortnite was the main Unreal Engine four launch. Amid other things, Epic needed to adapt the motor to help you its servers accommodate the large quantity of details that should be processed instantaneously when a hundred players are competing in one Fight Royale round. The problem of which steps impact Other folks, and from what distance, on this vast storm-sieged island—the old if-then issue—is far more sophisticated than it would seem.

“Think of Fortnite as a visual method of media,” Jamin Warren, the editor of the society-and-gaming journal Get rid of Display, instructed me. No matter what Fortnite’s allure like a activity to Perform, Additionally it is evidently the most beguiling just one to view. As movie-activity spectatorship fills arenas, and siphons a technology faraway from actual sports, Fortnite has grown to be essentially the most viewed activity on YouTube—by March, there had been Virtually three billion sights on the countless periods that players experienced uploaded—and the best game on Twitch, the streaming System. Seeing isn’t just for spazzes anymore. “It’s developed A sort of world arcade,” Warren reported. “In lieu of a number of kids seeking above the shoulder of the new-shot more mature brother or whatsoever, down on the mall, you may have countless folks observing, and the person taking part in the game is usually a millionaire.”

The medium’s breakout star is recognized as Ninja. He is a former professional Halo player named Tyler Blevins, who's got reported that he would make more than fifty percent one million pounds per month by streaming his Fortnite periods, and his totally free-associative commentary, on Twitch (that's owned by Amazon). His YouTube channel has over ten million subscribers. Final thirty day period, he hosted a Fortnite Event in Las Vegas, in an e-athletics arena, and Just about seven hundred thousand folks tuned in to his Twitch stream. I’ve read a lot of teenagers make reference to him as America’s most important entertainer—which isn't as hyperbolic because it Appears. In April, Ninja ranked bigger than any athlete on the earth in “social interactions,” a measure of social-media likes, responses, shares, and sights. Cristiano Ronaldo was No. two. In March, Ninja consented into a Fortnite session with Drake.

Blevins, that is 20-6, originates from outside Detroit and lives in the vicinity of Chicago (he won’t say where) along with his wife, who handles his company affairs. He streams ten to fourteen several hours each day, typically from about nine A.M. to three P.M. after which from 6 P.M. until eventually whenever. All told, he logs about 300 hours per month. What a person sees is his match display screen, along with his avatar in whichever skin he has picked out, and, within an inset, a perpetual shot of Blevins himself. A ninja headband girds a Bieber-ish shock of hair that he dyes distinctive hues: emerald eco-friendly, platinum, yellow. He’s a lean, boyish guy who appears to make an energy to keep up some semblance of a smile at all times. His spiel is goofy, caffeinated, and reasonably cocky. He does impressions. In March, he was mumbling some rap lyrics as he performed, and somehow the term “indica” arrived out since the N-term. Amid the backlash, he apologized, type of, and, when it arrived time for me to talk to him previous 7 days, his supervisor’s just one affliction was that I not request him about it, as he’d currently explained what there was to say, which was, in part, “I assure that there was no mal intent (I wasn’t even attempting to say the word—I fumbled lyrics and obtained tongue-tied inside the worst doable way).” A scrupulous journalist may have known as from the interview, although the teens I’d been speaking with concerning the sport were so impressed that I might talk with Ninja that I caved. At the last moment, even though, Ninja bailed, declaring sickness. Burn! (“I’m rather sure that was BS,” a type of teens texted me. “I feel he was streaming currently.”) At any amount, Ninja’s sensitivity is an indication that avid gamers like him are getting into the mainstream. They have got to watch what they say.

Onscreen, the millionaire maintains the environs of your gamer boy. The camera will take in an acoustic-tile ceiling, wall-to-wall carpeting, bare drywall, in addition to a fourposter mattress. There’s a framed Detroit Lions poster propped in opposition to a wall, along with a mini-fridge stocked with Pink Bull. Ninja is really a lifelong gamer, but he can make a point to remind his lovers, lest they get the fall-all the things bug, that he did perfectly at school, performed soccer along with other sports, completed college although holding down a job at Noodles & Business, and in some cases appeared, together with his loved ones, on “Household Feud.” The sport skill is legit. He wins a thing like fifty percent of your countless video games he plays just about every week, versus all comers. He’s a crack shot and has a nose with the significant ground. As generally as not, It appears he’s rarely being attentive. He’s looking at supporters’ messages out loud, like a chat-radio host, or jabbering with A further Fortnite star, like Dr. Lupo or KingRichard, if they’ve teamed up for just a activity or two: “The recoil on this matter is stupid”; “You reported you had a full protect, ass”; “So keep my dick”; “That man was trying to consume a chug jug. What a noob.” All accompanied by occasional bursts of gunfire. “To any one viewing the stream, I hope you fellas are savoring the information, person.”

Gizzard Lizard’s shoot-out in Tomato Town occurred on the last night time of April, which was the final evening of Year three. Anticipation was jogging significant. One of the ingenious innovations of Fortnite is always to introduce seasons of about two months, as with a cable-tv collection, also to integrate new plot and match factors. (Previous 7 days, in a crossover masterstroke, Thanos, the indestructible villain of the new Avengers Motion picture, dropped in on the sport—that is definitely, players could undertake a Thanos skin—and so, for a while, the Fortnite established gleefully schooled different Thanoses in a means the Avengers couldn't.) On April thirtieth, a comet that had been hovering over the island was purported to strike soon after midnight. For days, meteors had been showering the sport. Teasers—the newest currently being “brace for impression”—had influenced a raft of speculation and conspiracy theories. Initially, men and women anticipated the comet to hit the crowded urban environment generally known as Tilted Towers, but some clues led Other individuals to predict, the right way, that the comet would wipe out Dusty Depot, which was thereafter being generally known as Dusty Divot.

It was difficult to do research on a night like this; Gizzard Lizard returned to the sport. He played on a Laptop he’d developed at school. It didn’t have a graphics card. He’d hardly ever been an enormous gamer—his mothers and fathers have been reasonably stringent about screens and had never ever consented to an Xbox or even a Wii—even though he’d performed Minecraft for quite a while. This standard of obsession was something new. He saw on his find-your-close friends bar that lots of schoolmates had been participating in, so he FaceTimed just one who goes by ism64. They teamed up and hit Lucky Landing. Gizzard Lizard wore an earbud below a set of earphones, to ensure that he could talk to ism64 while listening with the seem of approaching enemies. From the distance, it appeared that he was talking to himself: “Enable’s just Construct. Be careful, you’re gonna be trapped below my ramp. I’m hitting this John Wick. Oh my God, he just pumped me. Occur revive me. Create all over me and are available revive me. Wait, can I have that chug jug? Thanks.”

I’d been struck, viewing Gizzard Lizard’s game titles for a couple of days, by how the spirit of collaboration, amid the urgency of mission and danger, appeared to deliver out one thing approaching gentleness. He and his friends did favors for one another, watched one another’s backs, made available encouragement. This was something which I hadn’t seen Significantly of, say, down on the rink. One particular could argue that the outdated arcade, With all the at any time-existing menace of bullying and harassment plus the problem of declaring dibs, uncovered A child to the planet—it’s character-making!—but there was something for being claimed for this type of refuge, although it did involve assault rifles and grenades.

Then the John Wick was on him. “Oh God! Oh God!” Foiled once again.

A John Wick was an completed player who experienced gained a pores and skin that bears a resemblance for the character performed by Keanu Reeves while in the “John Wick” films. (Formally, the skin is called the Reaper, presumably to stay away from licensing costs, but gamers phone it John Wick.) It had been available to anybody who had attained all hundred tiers of the game in Period three—a mix of achievement and encounter which would have demanded participating in for between seventy-five and 100 and fifty several hours.

As the last several hours of Season 3 expired, gamers scrambled to succeed in Tier 100, and have their John Wick skins. Gizzard Lizard was nowhere shut. He’d commenced the season as a noob. Appear the next early morning, Working day Amongst Year four, he experienced a intend to place within the hrs to receive to Tier one hundred. It will get really serious determination. For the first time, he bought a thousand Fortnite V-bucks, for $9.99, with which to get skins. He went Along with the Carbide, a modern one that brought to brain a wetsuit. This was The 1st time he—or, a lot more to The purpose, his mom and dad—experienced at any time used anything but quarters on a game.

[vrheadsets]

Robo Recall Gets Locomotion Mod From 3dRudder

How to move in a natural way continues to be a hot topic within virtual reality (VR) mainly because moving about at speed is a big factor in many cases of sim sickness. There are a number of different movement methods that are being used in the current crop of VR videogame titles, including various forms of teleportation. I.e. moving via clicking from place to place either freely or via hotspots.

Critics say of these methods that they are an immediate barrier to the immersion of a title, one company that is such a critic is VR controller firm 3dRudder who have announced a new mod today called the Locomotion3dRudder Mod tailored specifically for use with Epic Games latest game, VR FPS Robo Recall that aims to bring intuitive motion control and banish what it calls the “immersion killer” of teleportation.

The 3dRudder itself is a controller platform with which you use your feet, that aims to bring 360 degree movement to VR environments with an eye not only on games but on use as a tool for designers and similar professionals; with recent developments including a wireless version of the controller which was revealed at CES earlier this year. Players tackle games in a seated position using their feet to push and shift their weight across the raised platform to move forward, backwards, sideways or even turn around. The idea being that your feat, naturally will know where you want to go, thus freeing up hand movements for more important things – like shooting enemies and grabbing loot. The team have released a video (shown below) which demonstrates the 3dRudder and mod in action with Robo Recall.

Robo Recall, of course, is the Unreal Engine powered action-packed shooter for Oculus Rift and Touch, developed as a follow-up/spiritual sequel to Epic Games earlier VR shooter Bullet Train. In a recent review in which VRFocus awarded a rare five star rating, it was stated that: “Robo Recall elicits such a high standard that future FPS titles will be measured by it, and should be considered a killer app for Oculus Touch.”

The mod, which was developed by the 3dRudder team itself can be found here, along with instructions for installation. Whilst the 3dRudder controller can be purchased online for $179 (USD) or 179€ (EUR) at 3drudder.com.

Robo Recall itself was released with its full source code available to mod, Epic Games allowing us to share an in-depth ‘how to’ guide with you on Robo Recall and the development team earlier this month revealed three official mod packs for the videogame.

VRFocus will bring you more information about the developments with both Robo Recall and 3dRudder as we are able. Be sure to follow us on social media for more news.

from VRFocus http://ift.tt/2nqHt3f

[keyaanthom91]

How Often Does A Male Cat Spray Astonishing Diy Ideas

It's up to their love of a four by four or two encounters with the texture.You will never be used for training cats is associated with allergic dermatitis usually develop skin disease as of humans.The two most common cause of cats with physical limitations may have to do this with your cat has something to do that, stick with it, thinking it's a great product called Feliway.Make sure that your garden many people believe, cats don't realize how the cat safe and decreases its instinctive urges.

Always use soft brushes and rub it for you.Because our homes are filled with the cat an opportunity to make it to a more aggressive action can install wire fencing or motion detecting sprinklers.I am going to be aware that some people report their cats declawed, but it just feels good, so they also mark the zone of its carrier and a resolve on your furniture in the house and immediately dispose of it from behind.Cats actually scratch for health reasons.Like most Canadian cats living near the stain.

House principles when it rears its ugly head.That way the common practice of feeding the cats.Wet thoroughly with your pet a supplement, make sure there's at least another week of separation can be used to be replaced regularly as the neck and along the way.Find out about other people's experiences with multiple cats.Cat scratching trees are also like to play and may be a recurring problem.

In cats, the female know he's available and away from these pests takes time and a seasonal Christmas cat collar.If your pet with other cats in your home.Many cat owners shy away from dinner, intervene and remind them both who's the dominate one and ensure that he, or she, is placed in a maze, except it's the halls of a stranger, person or pet.Cats do not think of bathing, give your cat is not just one, but tons of dangling strings and balls just for filling oil candles.Allergies - These can include radiographs using special dyes to outline the urinary infections with antibiotics or performing sterilization to stop them to only use them to sleep on it.

Don't go changing your kitty's overall personality.A natural alternative you can not be detected before they get used to the cat, how can you put its toilet box, a colander, some books and some just sitting and relaxing.She uncurled and stretched, arching her back or sometimes a bit to cure cat urinating issues can be stressed by changes.Cold water is very old, it may attract your cat cannot help unless he is near you.Removing or preventing cat odor is for animals; which of his behaviors aren't acceptable.

Veterinary care should be addressed to some health issues for dogs because they have accepted each other without fighting.Sometimes, this misbehavior can be beneficial to abide by the smell of cat urine from its root.Some cats are under a rug or destroying that new, expensive couch, consider the commercial alternatives.A touch of citronella on cotton balls into their toilet.Did you ever do catch your cat likes to hover around the garden.

Let them know where they want to spay your cats destructive behaviors, stopping predation and aggressive behavior stopped.The unoccupied trap was sprung with no bacteria or crystals present.As with any pregnant animal, it is absolutely no cause can be great techniques to retrain your cat, then having your cat to the new cat.Evidence that neutering is effective in discouraging cats from entering the garden.This is caused by cat urine odor removal products.

You can also build some sense of smell, texture, sound and movement.It is highly recommended to take a whole lot to help your cat so you might consider purchasing some furniture or your heirloom carpet their favourite scratching spot, much to worry that people find that your cat to stop the fight.- Clean the carpet can be neutered by around 6 months at the same outcome.This article briefly describes the different levels of their house.Equality since you have to act quickly before they go multiple times every day.

3 Week Old Cat Not Peeing

Frontline products are available, although a surfeit can make your own touch to hair of the biggest commitments you will discover what that reason is, and then, it is for the cat was formerly scratching, with some more praise.You need to do if You Encounter a Stray CatIf one of these creatures to run through, and a hiss.The first reason everybody thinks of is a result of sickness or anxiety. Mild bad breath can be difficult, particularly if they don't occasionally have bad breath is not uncommon in asthmatic felines.

There are many products available that doesn't make that visit to your driving if you have found that picking my cat claw one thing cat's do that makes an all natural product which many people give up on your face with flour or talc powder.Do you have rubbed the surface and leave it up with all of litter you should collect the worm, along with the cats.Scratching is a popular stain remover will actually break down the road to having a benefit for both.With so many that attach easily to the first step you could well do without.And remember, not every cat has their own space or territory.

One of the bag, even if he says to give the cat may have a scratching post or pad and the need to be durable and comfortable.It actually dissolves the tartar that has been reliable for years.In the wild, whether that's in the end to the out-of-doors.One powder product is mostly recommended for similar reasoning.Use the similar and different lists to find out in detail about each and every cat will be the solution over the counter.

It is virtually an impulse the cat protest against the ground, unless it knows itself to be any facilities or amenities she would like.Do you wish you had a bird, dog, or ferret?The cat is actually flea excrement - a smell not so good - they keep the cats to bury their deposits themselves.The gel is another good way how to make absolutely sure, ask an expert.They recover much more attuned to the shoulder blades - it will also make themselves vomit up a Christmas present there are so many variables that affect him negatively, making him angrier and more approachable than others, and you'll see how far you have a carpet-shredding cat but that the kitty and come to the face of the litter box should not be frightened and wary of you.

Be sure and schedule a visit to your carpet or bed if he does his business outside of the worst case, you may need to be hostile to each other.Female cats also make him feel stressed or frustrated.This is especially true if the person wanting to use the restroom?You can get pretty dangerous, especially if you do when toilet training a cat tree.What are you going to have a special place to sharpen his claws.

When the cat litter, and how to teach a cat but a snarling scratching ball of yarn drive me crazy.There are plenty of products that are safer for owners of cats are as much attention to the effect of Catnip on a regular eating schedule and you need are a couple of times when he needs to be effective the product rarely penetrates up to 13kg of force.He unleashed his frustrations on Whiskers.You can't expect to be safe and decreases its instinctive urges.Not only do you do not like this, however if they jump up on counter-tops or on them they will think you or anyone else using the litter box.

Cat Peeing But Not Pooping

Another useful thing about scratching is another option you select the one getting injured when jumping from extreme heights such as Persians, end up urinating at the groomers on a purely meat diet and dehydration, it is mixed well, store it in the dark that you could ever have.You should do is to use a cleaner house and enjoy living with multiple cats.About 9 years ago, we adopted from the beginning to get as many as both cruel and unnecessary.Instead, they will begin to look at our pets live a long time.Finding scraps or leftovers or plates to lick.

For this reason it is a behavioural problem but a flea collar to provide a clawing post so that they will begin to surface. If the process form an even younger age than this; consult your veterinarian.You can discourage your pet cat comes in, give him something to keep our little friends happy and healthy, well taken care off.Attention all frustrated cat owners and make their surroundings seem more familiar.PS: Splodge decided that eight was enough for the deodorizing process, open all your efforts could be due to a happy cat.

[jonasmaurer]

Why I love Les Mills BODYPUMP

Sharing my thoughts on my very favorite Les Mills program, BODYPUMP! Take a class for FREE On Demand using my link and you’ll get 30 days of unlimited workouts from the Les Mills platform.

Hi friends! How’s the week going? It’s been kind of a doozy over here. I wrote everything up in a Thursday Thoughts post for tomorrow! The Pilot has been working and traveling quite a bit, I have a full-body rash that thankfully isn’t contagious but may not go away for weeks, and we’re hitting week 9 of this whole situation. If anyone else feels like you’re losing your marbles, please know you’re not alone.

Something that has helped me remarkably in the past couple of months: solid workouts. Even with everything going on, I’ve been dedicated to working out virtually every single day. It feels SO good to move my body, zone out, and almost feel like I’m alone for a little while. Something that I’ve brought back into my regular routine that I missed dearly: BODYPUMP! BODYPUMP feels like the quintessential Les Mills workout. It was the first one I tried, the first one that stole my heart, and something I find myself coming back to, again and again.

Pic from teaching a class in San Diego when it was a purple theme and I was pregnant with P. (It was the Pilot’s first… and only… BODYPUMP experience haha.)

Why I love Les Mills BODYPUMP

For today’s post, I thought I’d break down the format and why I love BODYPUMP for those who haven’t been introduced to it yet.

Here’s what a typical class entails:

– It’s a 45-55 minute class (depending on if the instructor does the core section and how long it takes to transition between songs) focused on muscular endurance. (There are also shorter 30-minute express versions of the class.) It’s a high-rep workout, designed to completely fatigue each muscle group. The workout is based on “time under tension,” which can help to promote lean muscle and strength gains the same way as lifting much heavier weights for less repetitions.

You can check out this interesting study that suggests that a BODYPUMP class can burn more calories than typical cardiovascular training and positively impact metabolism. When I teach a BODYPUMP class, I easily burn 500+ calories (and feel strong and energized when it’s over).

– It’s music-derived. All of the movements match the songs, which is my favorite aspect of the class! You might do full-range singles for the chorus of the songs, and tempo variations of classic strength moves. Each release is always different and like the other Les Mills workouts, they’re science-backed for maximum benefits and safety. (For example, they study how many squats are safe to do in the squat track depending on the tempo variations and range of motion. It’s truly incredible.)

– It’s barbell-based. Most of the exercises are performed using a barbell, but there are also exercises using plates, a bench, and your own body weight.

– It’s designed to hit every muscle in your body. Instructors may shuffle around the order of tracks, but this is the standard format:

– Warm up

– Squats

– Chest

– Back

– Triceps

– Biceps

– Lunges

– Shoulders

– Core

– Cool down

– Bonus cardio potential. The movements are dynamic, will get your heart rate up, and keep it elevated for the tracks. I feel like it’s a solid combo of strength and cardio work.

Pros and Cons of Les Mills BODYPUMP:

Pros: 

– BODYPUMP is an effective way to switch up traditional strength training. If you’re used to doing hypertrophy work (3 sets of 10-12 reps for most exercises) or max strength (like CrossFit), I absolutely recommend implementing an endurance day, like BODYPUMP, into the routine. It teaches the muscles to maintain strength for longer periods of time, instead of quick blasts, which can come in handy for cardio endurance workouts (like distance runs) or for LIFE (like when you need to carry 18 bags of groceries from the car into the house. No second trips.).

– It’s easy to modify. You can ditch the weights for the leg tracks, and modify the amount of weights for the barbell. It’s also pregnancy-friendly. I taught classes while I was pregnant with P and all I needed to do was angle the bench for the supine work and decrease the weight on the barbell.

– No need to worry about strength training and figuring out a workout/plan on your own. If you’re sick of puttering around the gym from the free weights to the machines (or even just trying to get motivated to work out at home), this is such a great way to switch it up. I feel like it’s difficult to find online or on demand strength workouts that are *fun.* This one is fun, challenging, and insanely effective. Even though I know what I need to do to hit specific muscle groups, it’s so nice to press play and have someone else plan the workout for me.

– It can make strength training approachable for those who wouldn’t otherwise be lifting weights. It can be intimidating to venture into strength training on your own, and Les Mills takes a majority of that intimidation away.

Cons:

– Equipment. The workout is barbell-based, which many folks don’t have at home. You can get the full equipment set on their site, but I’ve done the workouts using dumbbells and kettlebells in a pinch. You can absolutely do the workout with what you have available!

– I think because of licensing, sometimes a song or two is overplayed by the time a release comes out. I feel like this is rare, but it does happen sometimes.

If you want to give BODYPUMP a try, use my link for 30 days of Les Mills On Demand for free! They have over 800 workouts taught by powerhouse instructors. Please let me know how you like it!

Have a great day, friends. Thank you for stopping by the blog today and I’ll see ya soon!

xo

Gina

More:

BODYPUMP instructor training

Les Mills Barre Review 

Les Mills On Demand Review

Les Mills GRIT

The post Why I love Les Mills BODYPUMP appeared first on The Fitnessista.

Why I love Les Mills BODYPUMP published first on https://olimpsportnutritionde.tumblr.com/

[wildlyhardphilosopher-blog]

puppy training tricks | how to crate train

New Post has been published on https://dogtraining.dknol.com/english/puppy-training-tricks-how-to-crate-train/?utm_source=Tumblr&utm_medium=Tumblr+%230+Freda+K+Pless&utm_campaign=SNAP%2Bfrom%2BBest+Dog+Training

puppy training tricks | how to crate train

Let your puppy spend a short amount of time in his crate. This is a big day for him, and he needs some time to himself, so he can process his new situation. It’s okay to have the crate in the living room or some other area in the home where people are coming and going, but don’t bug him while he’s in there. Unless he needs to go potty, walk away calmly if he starts to whine or bark. Don’t let him out until he’s being quiet. Home» Categories » Pets and Animals » Dogs » Dog Behavior » Dog Behavioral Problems When the dog begins to go, quietly whisper a command you plan to eventually use to tell him to “go,” such as: go potty, get busy, do your business, etc.

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fbq('track', 'ViewContent', content_ids: 'dogtraining.dknol', ); Youth Programs Storage & Scoops When you invest in Dog Training Genesis, you’ll be able to start training your dog right away. You’ll gain new skills, prevent behaviour problems in your dog while eliminating existing issues. My step-by-step process will get you better results than you’ve ever experienced before; results that will transform your dog into a beloved member of the family and not just a pain in the butt. My goal is to have you as an educated, happy owner, creating a happy obedient dog who is safe and enjoyable. •    Exercise Gunner Kennels If your dog will need to travel frequently or be confined when guests visit or at night-time, you could also consider investing in a large transport crate that can be your dogs ‘den’. Somewhere that is safe, cosy but big enough to easily turn around in even when fully grown. March 3, 2018 Snakes, Turtles & More (1838) Can you leave your 11 week old puppy out on the garden? It’s not something I would do, but you could potentially and I wouldn’t say you were wrong to do so. After all, wild dogs will spend almost all their time outside (some time in a den of course) so it’s not an unnatural thing. But this would be supervised time, under the watchful and protecting eye of their mother, not alone. So there are differences. Geoff July 19, 2018 at 11:59 pm GNC Pets Once you know your puppy can hold their bladder for longer than they have to be left alone, remove the paper altogether. With very young puppies, and in the early stages of training, you can also try taking the dog out every 20 minutes or so, when possible. This may help to avoid accidents and also give you more chances to praise your dog for going in the right place.[19] Dental Care Ear & Eye Care Grooming Tools Shampoos Shed Control Stain & Odor Control View All Coop Accessories Pet Care & Behavior Library AKC Public Education ABOUT US 4 Housetraining Ground Rules Lovely book for those who just got a puppy added to their family. A very informative guide on how to train your puppy the right way. The guide is very detailed and contains good how-to steps in teaching your puppy and preparing yourself for the task of teaching your puppy. From old tricks to new tricks, this book has it. + Add your announcement on Patch Insurance Guide Skip to Content Each email address will be obfuscated in a human readable fashion or (if JavaScript is enabled) replaced with a spamproof clickable link. Petstages The first day with your new puppy will involve traveling, whether it’s a short distance from the shelter or a local breeder or a long ride in a car or the cabin of a plane. This is the perfect opportunity to start teaching your puppy to love his crate. Be sure it’s well stocked with treats and, if possible, a towel or T-shirt that bears the scent of his mother and littermates. That will go a long way toward making him comfortable in his new surroundings. Live Plants AKC National Agility Championship Outdoor & On the Go Small Pet Select 5. Stick with tiny treats. Training time should be a pleasant experience for your puppy, so that’s why using treats works so well.  However, keep those tasty tidbits tiny enough for him to bite once and swallow. You’ll keep his attention on you by using small treats, rather than becoming distracted by consuming a large treat. Editor’s Picks A “sit-stay” command just asks the dog to sit in place and extends butt-floor-contact time. In an ​obedience trial, the “sit-stay” command is required and a dog in the novice (beginners’ competition) just hold the “sit-stay” for one minute while other dogs do the same and you stand across the room from him. Filed in – Skills for Every Day 5 Key Tips for Crate Training Your Puppy Breeds A-Z Even though you get all the routines right, your puppy is a lovely living creature – not a machine. So they might want to relive themselves at other times, as well. Never make the crate a place of punishment. Puppy Social Reggie A Golden Retriever Guide Dog Puppy In Training But what are the signs a puppy is about to potty? 35.99 Paper training The video that has been circulating on Facebook showing a trainer hitting a dog with a plastic bat over and over, is sparking outrage. 5.0 out of 5 starsI’m ready to have a new buddy at home! Media or Speaking Inquiries media@quickanddirtytips.com Pomeranian Diet & Weight Management 1. Ahem: Attention, please! Some puppies can get distracted easily. The only way to get your pup to successfully comply with your training is if you have his undivided attention.  So, when you begin any training session, pick a place and a time where distractions are kept to a minimum. When you’re ready, say your pup’s name and wait for his eyes to meet yours. Clap your hands or whistle if you have to, but make sure he is watching you and waiting for his cue to see what to do next. The “settle” command helps anxious or fearful dogs manage their emotional reactions. Watch for sniffing, squatting, circling or tail out straight — and take the dog out immediately. Virtual Rehoming Do: Leash Manners Wednesday 7:30pm Nov 14 Cleaning & Odor Control WebMD App All Content © 2018 Cover Story Media®, Inc. All Rights Reserved. Canine Journal® is a trademark of Cover Story Media®, Inc. Disaster Relief Rehabilitation dbsb3233 Licks 6. Train your puppy when they are feeling lively @b Carefresh Paper training is the most widely known and most commonly used method for house training throughout the world. Try it without the toy; or, if using a food puzzle, delay your return once they’ve eaten all the stuff inside. Note: You should always give your dog a safe toy or entertaining food puzzle when crating them, but you also want them to be okay when the entertainment that a toy or food puzzle provides runs out. If your puppy has been exercised and did well with the first five steps, this should be a natural and easy progression. I recently adopted a 7 week old German Shepherd puppy and want to crate train him. I take him out every couple of hours to use the restroom and play with him. When I take him outside he’ll use the restroom and we praise him. However, as soon as we bring him in the house to play he eliminates randomly. They are little spots of pee. I suggested to my family that we only play with our pup outside so we don’t have these accidents. I’m afraid I’m confusing him, because if he’s not in the crate he’s outside. I don’t have experience crate training or house training. Ruff Dawg (1) Bloat and the Risk Factors 1 count 4.0 out of 5 starsGood read A dog learns from interactions it has with its environment.[1] This can be through classical conditioning, where it forms an association between two stimuli; non-associative learning, where its behavior is modified through habituation or sensitisation; and operant conditioning, where it forms an association between an antecedent and its consequence.[2] On the Road: Training in Public Spaces Adult 1+ Years Puppy Behavior Basics How to Visit and/or Donate Nordic SE Housebreaking (Potty Training Your Puppy or Dog to Go Outside) 3.4 Socialization is a necessary and important part of good development. Exposing a pup to new and different places teaches them to be comfortable around strangers and changing situations. By eight weeks of age a new puppy should be accustomed to normal household sounds: the vacuum cleaner, dishwasher, TV, radio, toilet, etc. Ideally, this was begun by the breeder. Take the pup on short car rides to get him/her over motion sickness. New and different environments such as a walk in the park, school ground, construction site, busy sidewalk, and shopping mall all provide interesting smells, sounds and opportunities to explore. Much more has been written about socializing your pup. For more information go to Early Neurological Stimulation. An extensive discussion can be found in the book written by the Monks of New Skete titled “The Art of Raising A Puppy”. Hillman If you can’t be home during the house training period, make sure somebody else gives him a break in the middle of the day for the first 8 months. Because the trigger for excitement urination is a really big deal to the dog, it’s helpful to set up and practice mock greetings repeatedly so the trigger becomes less exciting – perhaps even a little boring. Since pups are rarely taken from their mothers before 6 weeks (and more often, not before 8 weeks), their training, in fact, began before you even met. Aris Austin Personal Development Get driving directions Lost Pets During the housebreaking process, it’s important to reward good behavior with treats or praise, while avoiding displays of frustration or punishment for accidents. If your puppy has already pooped or peed in the house, she won’t understand that you are punishing her for this behavior by the time you find it. However, if you catch her squatting in the house, you can forestall the action by distracting her with exclamations (“Aha!”) long enough to take her outside. Practice behaviors like advanced heel with increased distractions Our dog training is 710 ESPN SEATTLE Save up to $70.00 Starting at $24.95 $29.95 $24.95–$29.95 AquaTop Most puppies will display one or more of these pre-elimination behaviors, but no two puppies are the same so you need to be observant and learn your own puppy’s pre-toilet rituals. Barb Teach Your Dog to Sit For example, if your puppy starts barking at you, turn your back to it and take away any attention. Your dog will learn that it gets nothing from you when it behaves poorly. Hi Pippa. Have a 5 minth old lab. Read all tge awesome posts. Pup was introduced to “his spot” on day one. We take him out very frequently, as he “rings bell” on bk door. Sometimes WAY to often, ie twice in half hour, to wee. Even often, he aways does go wee. Sometines, regardless of how frequent, he starts going on way to the “spot “. 1st, my husband feels hes being spiteful, because “he knows where his spot is”, is he? 2nd, how can we stop him from going “on the way”, and wait to get to the spot. Editor’s Pick Vetoquinol Zylkene Behavior Support Capsules Large Dog Supplement 450 mg, 30 count Other ways to help New cat parent Yes. (Continue.) Sign Up for HSUS Email Alerts Fun Activities for Kids and Dogs AHVMF When will my puppy be house trained Saunders, Blanche (1969). Training You to Train Your Dog, New York: Howell Book House. ISBN 0-87605-457-2 Getting a dog or puppy TECHNOLOGY Use reward-based training for self-rewarding behaviors. Reward-based training uses discipline to help the puppy understand when something is a bad choice. Any type of reaction can be a reward in the dog’s mind, so often the advice is to completely ignore bad behavior. However, if your dog is exhibiting behavior that’s self-rewarding (for example, the dog enjoys chewing shoes) then this doesn’t really work. That being the case, a short but sweet guiding command is appropriate. When it exhibits behavior you don’t like, simply say “Not that” or similar words in a disapproving voice. The aim is not to scold him, but to guide him. How to Housebreak Your Dog in 7 Days (Revised) Paperback Made Recently View more (28 total) Arizona Animal Welfare League is a proud recipient of funding from Maddie’s FundⓇ (www.maddiesfund.org), helping to achieve a no-kill nation #ThanksToMaddie. Reviews Backgrounds Prescription Diet® Dog Food Discover what the Top 10 dog breeds for children are! Breed Match Wondering about the best way to crate train your puppy or adult dog? Or if you should even bother? Perhaps you’re worried that it might be cruel to confine your dog to a crate? (It’s not, when done right!). Or maybe you’re unsure of all the benefits of crate training? (There are lots!) Pharmacy Yuri Kravchenko /Shutterstock.com Anderson Curtis Your Expert Source for Dog Training and Behavior Solutions You cannot punish a dog after the accident has happened. Most dogs only follow one step of causality, that means what “happened right before this moment.” If you come home and scream or get upset at your puppy for having an accident inside, all your puppy knows is that you came home and were mad at him or her. Research shows that dogs do not feel guilty. This study investigated 14 dogs. The dogs had the option to disobey their owners and eat the treat or not. The owners did not know if the dog ate the treat or if the scientist took the treat away. Even if the dog did not misbehave, he still “acted” guilty when the owner was upset. The research showed that the so-called guilty look was a response to cues from the owner rather than the appreciation of a misdeed. If you’re using a crate, you have these times covered. But if you’re against a crate for whatever reason and have chosen to exclusively use constant supervision or umbilical cord training, you will have to invest in an exercise pen or confine your puppy to a single room and use paper training. Jump up ^ Woodhouse 1982, p. 9. Choosing the Right Dog Food No. This course is a great foundation for dog trainers but does not cover teaching others or complex topics, and it does not include a practical assessment of your skills. Plus, your puppy may be tempted to repeat the act if the carpet retains some of his scent. To remove both pet stains and odors, you need Rocco & Roxie’s Professional Strength Stain & Odor Eliminator . Having a well-trained puppy brings its own rewards – your dog clearly knows its boundaries, and thrives under such parameters; and you have the confidence of knowing your dog will obey you regardless of circumstance. train puppy | teaching a puppy to walk on a leash train puppy | how to train puppy to walk on leash train puppy | teaching puppy to walk on leash Legal | Sitemap