#yet again the incorrect grammar on this post is killing me

[qishylia-adelia]

I don't care about vocaloid aside from the songs I put in my playlist.But if I ever take great and serious interest in it one day,I would start by being a luka and fukase fan first

[inevitable-anna]

ETN S2 fanfic.

This is for @hessonite-angel-art and the awesome drawing they did for Rosanna in S2. I would like to say that I’m so so so so so so sorry that it took me so long to reply! I spent an 1 hour and a half writing a fic about this, and then when I went to post it, my stupid internet started messing about and I wasn’t able to save this! And then I had problems posting it.

I’m gonna try again with this fic, here we go. (Warning contains a mention of stab wounds, blood, and a slit throat)

[[MORE]]

*

Everyone felt like they were going to collapse once they got back into the Lounge. They had just ran away from The Sorceress... again. As they entered and blocked the door behind them, they all dramatically collapsed onto various pieces of furniture.

Although there was one question on everyone’s mind, which was asked by Joey.

“Why do you have a knife? And where the hell did you get a knife from, Ro?” He exclaimed in slight fear of The Baker, he was the reason Liza went into the challenge after all.

“Like I said, ‘Liza and I will not be dying tonight’ and I swiped it from the Gingerbread Woman’s kitchen, the first time we were there.” Ro answered.

“Did you steal anymore weapons from anywhere? And are you willing to share with me?” Gabbie asked in a comedic tone.

Ro didn’t answer this time, instead she started to fiddle with the skirt of her dress. After a minute, she began to remove several small knives, a few metal quill pens, 3 letter openers, and 2 syringes with a large needles on the ends?

“Damn! I didn’t actually expect you to have anything else in there!” Gabbie exclaimed in shock.

“Where did you even get this stuff?” Liza asked, while fiddling with a letter opener.

“I’ve been swiping anything remotely sharp, or anything that can be used as a weapon all night, in case, we get into more trouble.” She replied.

“Seriously? Are you sure you didn’t just bring this stuff from your house? Because I haven’t seen any of this stuff at all.” Questioned Alex, from his place laying diagonally across one of the sofas, with one leg dangling over the back and one arm splayed out across the floor.

“Yeah, I got the knives from the Gingerbread Woman’s Kitchen. The letter openers and some of the metal quills from the Study, where Jorogumo webbed you up after she kidnapped you. And I found the syringes in the Foyer, while we all thought that the ‘helm of obedience’ was going to make Joey shoot us. I think someone must of dropped them.” Ro listed.

“And I meant what I said Liza and I will not be dying tonight. In fact, none of us are going to die tonight.” Ro stated, whilst holding up one of the knives from the table.

Judging by some of the looks the guests gave her as she help up the blade, Ro guessed that she had just gained lots of allies, and cemented herself as a team player. As well as, scaring the hell out of everyone in the room, including Alison.

*

No one else died that night...

That is, nobody else died, from among the guests ranks... Some of The Sorceress’ lieutenants were not so lucky.

The Ice Guardian very quickly found itself on the wrong end of a blade after it attempted to corner Tana.

It turns out that The Promethian Men weren’t so strong, once they were littered with stab wounds. Cedric was very happy to give the guests his gem... after they promised to let him live.

The werewolves may have been a pack, but even they weren’t a match for 7 angry youtubers, armed to the teeth with make shift weapons, picked up on their way across the various rooms of the Mansion.

The Guardian Of The Dark Dimension did not expect to become the sacrifice that was required to open a portal back to the Mansion, but he could only watch as the guests ran through and his vision began to go black.

*

The Sorceress was outraged, all her meticulously crafted plans were turning to ash before her eyes, all because ‘The Baker’ had chosen to fight back against her lieutenants and save her friends.

‘Just wait until I get my hands on her!’ She thought, while slowly clawing her way up the stairs. ‘I’ll make her wish that she was never born!’

It wasn’t long before The Sorceress’ arms gave out from under her, having no energy left in them. Lying on the stairs was uncomfortable but she just couldn’t move yet. Though she could hear voices approaching, one of which she recognised as ‘the Savant’.

‘Well, if I have to go down, I’ll take one of them with me!’ She thought bitterly, waiting for her time to strike.

“There’s the crown! Damn it! it’s by The Sorceress.” The Vaudevillian yelled in frustration. “Who is gonna get it?”

There was a sudden rush of noise. Each guest was trying to decide who should risk themselves for her crown.

“I’ll do it.” Said a quiet voice, that The Sorceress recognised immediately. ‘The Savant, perfect’ she thought.

There was a chorus of voices saying ‘be careful, Joey’ and she heard his footsteps walking up the stairs and waited for him to get closer.

The noise of the crown being picked up was her signal. With a scream The Sorceress jumped up whilst pulling her knife out of its holster and got ready to stab anyone within arms reach.

Frantic shouts filled the air, overlapping each other, as the guests reacted to her sudden attack.

“Oh my go-“. “What the he-“. “She has a kn-“.

“Joey! Loo-“. “How is she still al-“. “I thought she was de-“

The good news for the guests was that Joey was able to manoeuvre himself out of the daggers path, which was heading towards his chest.

The bad news for the guests was that the dagger was now stuck in his arm instead.

The Sorceress tackled Joey to the floor and pulled her dagger from his arm, raised it above her head to bring it down in a fatal blow to Joey’s heart and...

She felt a hand wrestle the dagger from her clenched fist, while another hand anchored it’s fingers into her hair and sharply yanked her head backwards, before the feeling of cold metal dragged itself across her throat. She had just enough time to turn and see who had slit her throat, before the world went dark.

The Baker.

*

The guests were in shock.

In the span of about a minute or maybe even a minute and a half, Joey had been stabbed in the arm, The Sorceress had proceeded to tackle Joey, attempted to stab him, only for Rosanna to snatch the blade and use it to kill The Sorceress herself, and now Ro was standing with the bloody dagger in hand weeping that she “didn’t mean to kill her.”

Liza quickly walked to Ro to comfort her, while the rest of the group helped Joey sort out his wound.

“It’s okay. Ro, you saved everyone’s lives by doing that. I know that doesn’t make it any better but everyone in this room is alive because of what you just did. Who knows maybe if you hadn’t done it, The Sorceress would be back in a years time with 10 more people to chase around and use for her spell. You saved our lives.” She reassured while pulling the small woman in for a hug.

“Thanks Liza. At least she can’t hurt anyone anymore.” Ro mumbled into her shoulder.

By now the group had finished tying a piece of fabric, that Alex had ripped off of the bottom of The Sorceress’ skirts, around Joey’s stab wound to act as a bandage and stem the flow of blood.

Everyone walked over and joined in on the hug to comfort The Baker, whilst offering her words of thanks and reassurance. After a few minutes in the large group hug The Savant spoke “Shall we get out of here and back home?” There was a chorus of ‘yes’ from around the room.

Joey walked to the front doors that most of the guests had walked through only a few hours ago, when they believed that they were attending a ball and not a dangerous quest against an evil Sorceress, who was hell bent on invading the modern world and ruling over it.

The guests smiled as soon as they saw the sunlight beginning to creep up over the horizon. Ro looked around and walked to the spot where Alison was standing.

“Are you going to come with us?” She asked.

“I’m sorry but no, I’m going to stay and help Riley, Jetpack, and the people still here figure out what to do and where to go. As I said ‘there are other people who want to leave, I’m doing this for them.’ But maybe I’ll come visit you all in the future.” The vampire replied with a small smile.

“Well you’re always welcome to come and visit me any time you like.” Ro said returning the smile, before she walked back to Liza.

“Are we all ready to go?” Alex asked, wanting to leave before anymore tears could start to fall at the thought of leaving the Mansion without Lauren by his side. Everyone said their goodbyes to Alison and welcomed her to come visit them as well. Just like that they were ready to leave this house of nightmares and return to their homes for a well earned rest.

Ro said a quiet goodbye to Lauren, Jesse, and Destorm, promising to never forget them and telling them that she hopes that they are at peace. Linking arms with Liza, they walked to the front doors at the back of the group and sighed at the feeling of the sun on their faces.

Alex, Tyler, and Tana climbed into the first carriage, while Joey, Gabbie, Ro, and Liza sat together in the second. The carriages started to move, beginning the journey home and that’s when it hit Ro...

They had escaped the night.

*

This is my first time writing an ETN fanfic and it ended up so much longer than I expected it too. Again, I’m so so sorry that it took me so long to reply to you, but I hoped you liked this story. (I apologise for any incorrect grammar or an abuse of commas.)

Have a nice day :D

[lady-of-the-roses-and-lilies]

Marinette March Day 1: kindness.

 hey. Yeah. This sucks. I didn't even wanna post it. But, well... Posted. It's not as good as some other ones out there and no I did not make sure the grammar is correct. Also I know nothing of This "Science" or "Logic" or "Altitude" so don't get mad if you cringe at incorrect stuffs.....i warned you.

~~~~~~~~~

I was on the roof of the hotel when the winds starting getting rough. A storm must be coming, we better hurry this up. I turned to Marinette to see if she had noticed, she had if her looking warily at the sky was any indication.

“Since there's a storm I don't think Jagged needs us to Put up the VIP rope around the pool anymore.” I had to shout over the wind.

Marinette Nods,”he's probably gonna Stay in his room all day. Let's gather up the ropes and take them inside so they don't get we-”

She was interrupted as a strong gust of wind suddenly pushed us closer to the edge of the already windy roof. Marinette was able to catch something to stop her from flying. I, however, wasn't so lucky. I was already too close to the edge of the roof for comfort and before I knew it I was falling

I could feel my breath leaving my body as i felt the cold air piercing through my skin.

This is it. I'm gonna die. Goodbye Class. Good bye Dad. Goodbye M'la-

Suddenly a hand was around my waste and i was yanked to a stop so hard I got whiplash. I looked up to see Marinette holding on to me with one hand and the end of the VIP rope with her empty like her life depended on it.

Oh, wait. It did.

But how did she…..She must have jumped! She put her faith into a flimsy rope and jumped-! What kind of stupid move is that!

I heard Marinette heave a sigh of relief.

“You Ok?” I was surprised she asked me that. I mean- she's the one who is probably having her arms pulled out of socket.

“I'm- I'm fine. You?”

She simply nodded before looking down and mumbling,“We're only halfway to the ground so we can't just drop. The rope isn't long enough, and the nearest balcony is too far to drop to.” Marinette looked around us before starting to swing toward the ledge to the left of us. I did my best to try and help, but she stopped me saying,”Just wait until I swing you close enough. Than grab the ledge and pull yourself up.”

As soon as I could I reached for the edge and as soon as I had a sturdy hold her arm let go of me. I used as much energy as i could (but I'm pretty sure you have the Adrenaline to thank) to pull myself up. I turned around to see Marinette is still dangling with one arm, looking at me to make sure I'm fine.

She's the one still in danger! And yet she's looking at me like one wrong move could kill me.

“Jump.” I stated it simply with as confidence I could muster.

She shook her head. “It's too far.”

“Swing as much as you can. I'll catch you.” I will catch her. I have to catch her.

“If you do the littlest thing wrong not only could I fall but so could you.”

“Don't worry about me. Just Trust me.”

She looked away and bit her lip before swinging as much as she could towards the ledge. I planted my feet firmly while keeping my bottom half as close to the wall as i could and reach out to her with my top half. Logic says this won't work and we'll  both die. But when does logic control my life?

Then….she jumped.

I reached my hands out to grab her as she fell- no, flew- towards me. I was able to grab her waist and i hurriedly pulled her close and leaned against the wall.

Thank my lucky ladybug.

The only sound was our ragged breaths trying to slow to a steady pace.

I pulled back to look at Marinette's face,”Why did you jump? You could have died.”

She arched her Eyebrows,”Do you mean jumping off the roof to save you or jumping into your arms?”

“Jumping off the roof! Marinette, that was a risky and dangerous move just to save me-”

“So, you wanted me to just there and watch you fall to your death? I took a risk and we benefited from it rather than Someone losing their life. I don't see the problem”

“I'm glad you rescued me, Marinette, truly. I'm very Grateful. But I don't want you to put your safety over mine again.”

“I-I can't do that. Making a promise to not save someone…if I have the chance to save someone, like I did with you, I'll take it.”

She moved to sit next to him rather than on top of him.

“If I had lost you, because- because  I was to worried about what would happen to me…” I saw Her lip start shaking and her eyes turn glossy.

“You, Marinette. Are a true hero.”

[centaurrential]

“The Spice Jar”

“Let me live the lie, So long as it gets me through the day.”

For a long time it baffled me why activists would choose to devote so much energy to a cause that always seemed like overkill to me: free speech. I suppose the reason for that is because I grew up in a fairly liberal environment in one of the most liberal countries in the world. My feelings of security in the realm of free speech were a result of direct contact with a family that, more often than not, found itself on the right side of political privilege. Juxtaposed by the harsh realities experienced by another portion of my family (but not by me) under dictatorship in Yugoslavia, it seemed like the threat to free expression was a dead issue, a thing left in another world, in the past and locked in a strait jacket, never to seriously perpetrate again. How naive.

I see now that the cause is not overkill at all, but rather in need of periodic resuscitation, with the medics on stand-by; and the best medics would be those who excel in “aspect perception”. Like evil, issues needing that particular kind of attention crop up in unexpected places, and so much vigilance in monitoring the sneaks is due. And a simple mandate of “free expression for all” is stupid and insufficient, because as we always see, static gaming rules can produce matches with vastly different phenotypes. (The existence of “language games” was originally observed by the Austrian philosopher Ludwig Wittgenstein, so I give him his due credit here.)

I spoke of ideology in my last posting, and wherever one wishes to locate (and I don’t use that term accidentally) themselves on the grid of political persuasions, there will always be conceptual pockets that are purposely left unfilled, often because no one has the guts to touch them for fear of being labelled too politically incorrect, or undiplomatic. But even more radical are those ideas that don’t even find themselves on that grid, because they lie so far outside of the limitations imposed by the prevailing paradigm. A person brave enough to attempt to give validity to those ideas is not only denigrated for being “uneducated” but crucified for being a downright dumbass, and possibly psychotic, if the definition of psychosis is a “detachment from ‘reality’.” But what we think of as reality is merely an idea that has been agreed-upon by people who happen to have sufficient charisma and power to persuade others.

I’ll give you an example: I have, I believe, collected enough evidence that demonstrates astrology is true. Because of this passing interest, I once mentioned to a relative that I was reading a book on the influence of astrology in history, political and otherwise. She asked who the author was and what his credentials were. Nothing “noteworthy” there, and because of that, she actually insulted me and declared it preposterous that I, a usually intelligent person, would consider an argument not backed by the mainstream meritocracy. It’s crucial to note that she has a doctorate in history. I didn’t even have to ask her why she was so appalled, because her answer would have been the same dished to me, on a silver platter, out of fucking Buckingham Palace, that is given to me by every other lazy asshole who considers astrology to be archaic and an immediate write-off. She would have said that “all the studies” performed on astrology show CLEARLY that the “daily horoscope” and the “sun signs” are all bullshit and believers suffer from a case of confirmation bias. Academics believe that mythology and established archetypes have value and are therefore worth studying. And there is a tight link between them and the representational entities found in astrology. But none of “The Educated” give enough of a damn to investigate its complex grammar (see last posting), and the precision required of any astrologer worth their salt.

My little rant about astrology isn’t meant to be a full-scale defence of the practice, but I am trying to demonstrate something. The shallowness displayed in these disses to astrology is indicative of the fact that things already thought to be errant are not even encompassed in the span of that “grid of persuasions” I mentioned earlier. (The grid may be two- or three-dimensional, but who cares?) Those who are already convinced something is “wrong” simply won’t go to great lengths to play the devil’s advocate and explore why there may be a teensy-weensy chance it is RIGHT.

In my mind, if it’s been spoken of, then you should do your homework and read between the lines.

They say, if you can’t find yourself anywhere on that grid, there must be something fundamentally wrong with you. You’re crazed, you’re spacey, out to lunch, et cetera. The grid seems to offer a menu of choices, various combinations of platitudes you are free to choose from. So my point is this: if enough people, with enough influence, tell you that something is off the table, they’re telling you that not even the ingredients are available to conjure something worthy of bringing to the table. Therefore, to those who still hunger: you must look elsewhere.

I can’t say with certainty whether or not there was some grand agenda to marginalize and persecute people who can see outside of things (*cough*lust*cough), but if there is (I use the present tense cause...duh) it’s DEFINITELY ideological. And the reason it’s so fucking scary is because, if your wild ideas reach a certain density, the majority won’t even listen to you. And by ‘majority’ I don’t mean 50.1% of the population, I mean the people you interact with who possess a disproportionate amount of power. And further, by ‘power’ I mean the capacity to effect significant change in something, or to neutralize a challenge to a pre-existing situation. Anyway, never mind disagreement--you might as well not have a mouth at all. Even if your ‘kooky’ ideas are not that dense, the introduction of even one idea that doesn’t fall within the rules of the prevailing paradigm leads to others viewing you with suspicion and the belief that there is a crack in the philosophical foundation of your life.

To give you a visual: think of the scene in The Matrix when the Agents cause Neo’s mouth to grow over with skin, and he freaks right the fuck out. He falls backwards into the wall, as if to put physical distance between himself and this monstrosity. Speaking--expression--is so innate to us as humans with personalities. To add insult to injury, many of us find some things in this world that utterly compel us--that which ignites our “fire”, that which we cannot ignore no matter how detrimental we are told it can be, no matter how hard we try to resist.

...Who am I kidding?! I’m on a roll (!!!), so I’d like my readers to consider the following: We believe that the past and present both exist, yet we have enough trouble interpreting them. Why should interpreting what the future holds be any different? I think we all know why people are so vehemently opposed to that idea...it’s kind of the elephant in the room.

~~~

Now, I work in a grocery store. For a moment during the COVID-19 pandemic, we were all the rage, with people touting us as ‘heroes’ and heaping thanks on us because we’re “essential workers”. Or at least, we were. That died fast. But we’ve always been heroes. I don’t mean to insult my customers, the majority of whom I love interacting with. But I sense that some people just need to be put in their place.

The supermarket is an interesting one because it’s like a little laboratory for human behaviour studies--but it’s better, because it’s not artificial. Virtually every person on this planet leads a life that revolves around food, and when we don’t have good food, we are sad or grumpy. I understand the feeling of having one’s heart set on something and the disappointment experienced when our expectations aren’t met. But I plead with you: try thanking your lucky stars every now and then for all the options you have, as a result of lowly grocery workers.

Everyday, everything is splayed out for us to pick and choose from. And for that benefit, producers apply their intelligence to generate AND to coordinate, so that things are always “in stock”. Luckily all the food waste that’s generated in the name of “looking nice” (I’m serious) now goes to the food bank. If that didn’t happen, some of us would have to force ourselves to ignore the fact that the only final utility of some of that product was to ensure our shelves were pleasing to the consumer eye.  An understudy, if you will: an immensely complex thing, formed for the sole purpose of “just in case”.

Our lives consist of an economy that’s so sophisticated we really do not have to think twice about having SOME kind of satisfying meal. If not our first choice, then our second or third. Show some bloody respect. Right now, we’re all able to shop in relative luxury, but when shit hits the fan--like for example, perhaps, a prolonged power outage occurs--we’ll be yearning for the days when we had to settle for spinach because the all the kale was gone.

I’d like to take a moment to acknowledge the janitors, custodians, cleaning staff, and the specialized COVID sanitizers of the world. The mundane reality is so backwards sometimes. It’s like evil took all that was good and pure and turned it on its head. There is a premium placed on orderliness and cleanliness. Wash your hands for 20 seconds, apply hand sanitizer, kill those bacteria and kill ‘em dead. Ok, you don’t want to get sick--fine. But large-scale operations that exploit people who help you reach the “godliness” that is cleanliness, yet rob them of respect, appropriate compensation, and appreciation--you are grotesque.

So, money. I’m not well-versed in economics, but I call it like I see it. The nice thing about money, and the reason it’s so widely used, is because it’s an easy tool that supposedly ‘justly’ facilitates exchanges of goods and services between people. If something is expensive enough to the point at which you pass the threshold between “justifiable” and “unjustifiable”, that’s the only reason a person needs to not buy something. And the immediate source of justification is the psychology of the individual. Of course, there are many factors that contribute to the rationalization process.

Money may be easy, but money doesn’t reflect the true value of things, and it’s because money doesn’t reflect the true value of things that it is easy. Imagine you bartering spices for someone else’s dairy cow. In order to save time, you’d better hope that your bartering partner and you agree quickly what amounts and what types of spices are justifiable in trading for a cow. The processes that allow the accessibility of both types of goods are different. You and your bartering partner may not agree: they may want more, you think they should get less. BUT, this person you’re engaging with is the only source of a cow for you! Now imagine a plumber, for instance, trading a repair for a haircut. You help me, I help you, and we apply our respective skills toward that symbiosis. Is the haircut important enough to the plumber that they are willing to provide a service in return, sans money? Is the hairstylist appreciative enough of the plumber’s work to design and make them look good for free? A haircut and plumbing services are similar in some ways, but entirely different in others. The function and utility of each is different, and the consequences they generate permeate lives differently. Consequences may be far-reaching, or they may occupy less space in the progression of your life. A tree compared to a blade of grass. That is the nature of choice in this life. And when money leaves the equation, it’s like a dark sheath has been torn away from the true values of things, which are realistically very complicated.

People generally do act rationally, but it’s not in the way neoliberal economists think. The mistake they’ve made is assuming that a ‘rational choice’ is the same for everyone, across the board. Or maybe that’s what they want you to think. Liar, liar, pants on fire. What is rational to one person is not always rational to another. Much of it is subjective, at least if a person is true to themselves. And people’s inherent personalities are different, and therefore their specific motives are different. It’s not clear that there’s an absolute benefit that should be maximized (other than the obvious quest for happiness and avoidance of pain), because the true value of things isn’t strictly definable.

Think in these terms: What fuels our economy is consumerism. When there’s a recession, people have less money and therefore will purchase less, and so the goal to rejuvenate the economy is to get people buying things again. It doesn’t matter too much what, just as long as they’re spending money.

Now consider the resurgence in the ‘minimalist’ ideal. People are starting to wake up and see that having all sorts of shit just because you have the capability to buy it (and because money doesn’t reflect consequences) is destructive, and not only to the environment and the oppressed, but also to the soul. There are plenty of people in this world who absolutely cannot, in good conscience, own a lot of shit and be okay with themselves. This is a thing that I know for certain compels people. To deny this is to deny peace of mind. So, what place does a passion for minimalism have in neoliberal theory?

In what some like to call a post-modern world (a scary thought in itself; does that imply the end of history?) we increasingly find ourselves detached from the larger picture, and that is NOT good. What we see “in front” bears few clues into what happens behind the scenes. People don’t farm, we go to grocery stores. People don’t weave and knit, we shop at the mall. Things are presented in such a refined way that it actually takes some mental work and introspection to develop gratitude for the people working to make us comfortable, often at their own expense, and often not because they are at liberty to do so. Coercion and rationality have a love-hate relationship.

To tie things up, please pay attention to the source of your information. I don’t mean “Angelfire websites” and all that shit, I mean the individuals and groups of individuals in charge of disseminating  information. Karl Marx developed Marxist/communist theory because of his situation in life. He had motives, like everyone else. Motives can come from a place of genuine compassion, sympathy for the meek, and a belief that everyone deserves kindness and less pain in their lives. But motives can also be positively diabolical, and when such motives inhabit the hearts of people with influence, evil spreads insidiously, like a metastasized cancer gone undetected.

[webgottmilk]

~ Heard It Through the Grapevine ~

This fic is a gift for the lovely and patient @ciarlapanics; the fic rec is coming, I promise! In the meantime, enjoy some Bradray feels, since I’m a sucker, and you can never have too many in our little fandom. Enjoy <3

Summary: This is not quite how Ray imagined he’d become Internet famous.

Rating: E

Word Count: 5,237

This is not the way that Ray wanted to become Internet famous - in his mind, rock stardom comes from carefully crafted albums and hours spent in recording booths. Of course his fame is the wretched lovechild of his overactive imagination and (admittedly) poor planning skills.

And yes, perhaps literally jumping into Brad Colbert’s arms upon his arrival back to the States wasn’t the sanest of ideas, but even that he can let his best friend chalk up to his rather poor upbringing. (“If you had any less brain cells Ray, you’d be a drooling vegetable. In fact, the drooling part isn’t far off”). To be fair however, flying directly to Nevada,Missouri after finishing up serving with the Royal Marine Commandos - fucking English frogs in his mind - is no small feat to Ray, and deserves at least a small gesture of gay love on his part.

Ok, yes, Ray may have regretted the action as soon as he tackled Brad since holy shit the fucking Viking can hold on to a lot of weight and god damn those arms. But properly non heterosexual thoughts aside, it’s not really an intelligent idea to display affection in public for any Marine, lest civilians catch on to the idea that they’re actually human beings too! At least, Ray chooses to believe that that’s Brad’s reasoning for his usually reserved nature upon being body slammed at the Joplin Municipal Airport.

Surprisingly, Brad plays along with the reunion, twirling Ray around like some sparkly gay ass princess from Disney’s latest money making gambit, and laughs quietly into his ear.

“I knew you loved me, Iceman!”, Ray crows back - give him an inch and he’ll take a mile…

Brad is obviously thinking along those lines, dropping him faster than Encino Man called danger close strikes on his own men back in Iraq.

“I would question your actions, Ray”, he says, stepping back and lazily drawling, “but I know that there’s barely room for a thought that’s not involving incest or NASCAR in that fucked up head of yours.”

Ray tilts his head upwards to peer at Brad - who is still standing close enough that he can smell the sweat and dirt on his fatigues - and winks lecherously.

“I just couldn’t wait to get my hands back on those Viking arms of yours, homes. They’re irresistible”, Ray draws the last word out in an overexaggerated attempt to mimic Walt’s slow country accent. He blows the bemused Brad a kiss before striking off towards the baggage claim. Brad follows closely, always watching his six, as he crosses the terminal and heads towards carousel four.

“Eat any English sausages?”, Ray asks innocently as they idle side by side, waiting for Brad’s single camo coloured duffle to appear on the conveyor belt.

Brad only snorts, shoving Ray hard enough that he has to struggle the slightest amount to regain his balance, and dignity.

“Civilian life has made you soft, Ray. You’re a goddamn disgrace to every Marine in Nevada”, Brad shoots back, clearly not missing the shorter man’s attempt at recovery. “Don’t worry, you can join me on my six mile run tomorrow, early bird catches the worm, or the sausage, I suppose.” Brad laughs openly at his distress, then nudges Ray again suggestively.

“Homes, if I needed birds to help me find sausage, I would have checked myself into a hospice long before your giant white ass landed back on US soil.” He is obviously teasing, so Brad obliges with a soft huff, then quickly steps forward to grab his bag off the belt.

“Let’s go home, Ray. You clearly need a nap and a bottle before your infantile brain is able to comprehend even the simplest of metaphorical phrases”. With that, Brad marches in the direction of the Parking Area signs, Ray trailing behind him.

The ride home, in Ray’s ancient pickup truck (“Ray, this piece of junk is going to fall apart right out from under us, before I’ve had a chance to consume one of your shitty Coors Lights”.) (“Oh Bradley, you know I bought gay microbrew just for you - no Coors Light for your delicate sensibility”.) is non eventful, even with the occasional jibe about Ray’s Elvis sunglasses - “we pimpin, homes,” he recites with a wry smile, as they coast along the highway, still going a good ten miles over the speed limit.

The night is spent drinking too many shitty beers, and consuming too much shitty media. (“Ray, no matter what you say, Inception is a B+ movie with poor editing and no plot”) and (“Bradley Colbert, your mother raised you better than to insult the good name of Christopher Nolan, shame on you!). Brad passes out on the couch around two am, clearly succumbing to the exhaustion of a day spent airplane hopping. Ray covers him with a blanket, heroically ignoring the strip of pale skin that his ridden up fatigues expose. He gulps, making a mental note to stay far, FAR away from the thought.

Ray sleeps fitfully, mostly because, “goddammit Brad, pineapple on pizza is not only the gayest thing you have ever suggested to me, but also the most disgusting, which coming from me, should shame you.” Pineapple and Coors Light do not a friendly bedfellow make, so he spends his hours gravitating between the kitchen, where he can just make out the fine blonde hairs of Brad’s head, and his cold, messy bed. Ray knows how pathetic it is to stare longingly over the counter at your best friend, so he actively avoids the kitchen and living room after a couple of passes.  

Around six, he checks his Twitter, since if it’s good enough for Donald Trump, it’s good enough for him. (At least that’s how he defended his usage when Brad raised a judgmental eyebrow at him between scenes of The Usual Suspects.) He smothers his laughter when he sees the number one trending tag, because “planking” is literally the dumbest fad since swallowing goldfish. He passes the “Don’t Ask Don’t Tell Repeal” tag with much less amusement, but makes a mental note to read up on it at a slightly later date. However, it’s trending tag number three that stops him half way through a drink of water; the sheer absurdity of the tag “Marinesinlove” is so substantial that he isn’t sure whether to laugh, or hide his face in his grubby pillow. Marines, displaying emotions? That’s the most retarded fucking thing he’s seen in the last twelve hours, and Brad Colbert’s lustful gaze at a pineapple covered pizza was one of them.

In the end, curiosity kills the cat (fuck you Brad, he can understand simple metaphors, or whatever), so Ray bites the bullet and clicks the tag. And nearly drenches his lap in ice cold fridge water. The first image to appear is a gif of Brad twirling him, HIM, around in a circle, with the tag, “Marine boyfriends in love”, and the addition of three heart eye emojis. The post has over six hundred retweets, with comments such as the disgusting “awwww”, and “this is what true love looks like”, though with a suspicious lack of grammar so common to Twitter.

Numb, Ray continues scrolling - it doesn’t just stop at the gif. There are multiple picture sets of Brad staring into Ray’s eyes - hold on, he swears that they weren’t standing THAT close at the airport - and gif upon gif of him rolling his eyes at Ray’s ridiculous antics. But what Ray can’t help but continuously notice is the overwhelming amount of grammatically incorrect tweets praising the “anonymous” Marines for their candid display of affection. They extol their bravery in openly revealing a “passionate and sweet love” (if Ray rolls his eyes anymore, he’s sure he’s going to contract brain damage, which according to Brad, he can’t really afford to contract).

Seriously, it’s just two guys really excited to see each other, after months and oceans apart - at least that’s what Ray tells himself over and over. Shit. Motherfucking son of a bitch, what is he going to say to Brad? “Hey Brad, I know you just got home from dealing with horrible beer and worse accents for months, but the entire Internet thinks that we’re in love, so I don’t think it’s a good idea if you go outside just yet.”

Oh god, he’s dead. He is so, so, unbelievably dead.

Since the gods are cruel, and just when Ray’s life has taken a u-turn towards ‘your best friend / one who you harbor secret feelings of not so friendship for is about to kill you’, the very object of his thoughts appears in the doorway, strangely lacking any coverage in the torso area. Fuck Ray’s life.

“You’re up!” Brad says, fake joviality clearly meant to annoy Ray, “which means that you can join me for my hard core Marine six mile run, unless of course, your pussy civilian lifestyle has coddled you into comfort and diabetes already.”

Ray blinks at him, still trying to look past the obvious tan lines that mar Brad’s pale skin, and perhaps stop eyeing the toned planes of his stomach quite so obviously.

“Ray…?” Brad’s voice cuts through his thoughts, sending his nerves tumbling around his stomach. “Is your whiskey tango head so fucked up that you can’t even form a coherent thought before seven am? This is a truly desolate day, my friend, truly sad.” Brad is clearly trying to cheer him up through the usual jabs at his upbringing and civilian status, but it’s not really doing anything to ease his thoughts. Mostly because Brad is standing there SHIRTLESS, which is a goddamn distraction in itself.

Finally, he regains his voice: “Seriously homes? It’s day one, and you can’t even let your Ray-Ray have a little bit of a lie in? Come give me a morning kiss and we’ll go from there”. He musters up all the bravado he can, and throws his arms out, head tilted upwards,  lips pursing in supposed anticipation.

Instead of replying, Brad huffs and shoves Ray back onto the bed, sprawling himself across the other half, with his hand absently lying on Ray’s chest.

“Ray, if I knew you pussied out so easily, I would have woken you up at four, just to have the satisfaction of seeing you struggle to tie your shoes at ass o’clock in the morning. As it is, this bed is marginally more comfortable than the abominable piece of furniture you call a couch, so I am going back to sleep. But when I wake up, you best be ready to run, or I will throw you out the door naked and laugh as you struggle to walk up a hill without developing blisters on your delicate civi feet.” Brad says all of this whilst staring at Ray’s collar bone, the only thing in his line of sight. Ray is still actively staring at the ceiling, forcing himself not to imagine waking up to a half naked Brad Colbert in his bed everyday. With this speech over, Brad steals the pillow out from underneath Ray’s head, effectively trapping him, with one arm wrapped up in the two now resting under his pillow. He closes his eyes, and is almost immediately asleep.

Fuck his life. Really, fuck his life.

                                                <GK>

When Ray manages to extract himself from the BradRay pile that had been forced on him, his first thought is COFFEE. Everything in the world, his mother taught him, can be solved by a cup of black coffee. She always joked that the blacker the soul, the blacker the coffee, though Ray was never sure how much of it was jest, considering there was never any cream or sugar in sight the few times his absent father appeared.

Shaking his head, Ray bullies his French press (“When did you get married, Ray? The only place you can find those metal fuckers are at fucking Crate + Barrel during wedding season.”) (“Of course I’ll marry you, Brad! How could I refuse, with a proposal like that?”) into spouting the foulest, blackest coffee it can muster.

Game plan, he needs a game plan. Ideally, one which ends with Brad and him managing to have an adult conversation about their feelings and all that bullshit. He snorts coffee all over the counter, and down the front of his shirt at the thought. The very idea is both colossally retarded and completely unrealistic. While this thought marinates in his head, Ray hunts for another shirt. Blindly, he reaches for one hanging off of the end of the couch, and, throwing the coffee defiled one on the carpeted floor, pulls the other over his head. Feeling refreshed, Ray walks back across the living room into the kitchen, where he pours himself a third cup of caffeinated murder water.

Ok, so then, how? Perhaps it’s just better to show Brad - he is a visual kind of motherfucker. And, demonstrating that the entirety of Twitter believes he and Ray to be in some kind of idealistic gay love seems like the best way to pound the idea into his neanderthal thick skull. Maybe it’ll even dissuade Brad from clobbering Ray long enough for him to make for higher ground. Apologizing has never been one of Ray’s tactics - he is unapologetic in all that he says and does, a perfect Marine trait - so he doesn’t believe that it will get him anywhere. Resigned, he pours himself another cup of fortification, and hunkers down on a stool to wait out the impending storm.

Blessedly, he doesn’t have to suffer with his own damning thoughts for too long; a shirtless and sleepy Viking clambers from his bedroom about ten minutes later. By now, Ray is starting to feel the effects of his fifth cup of coffee - it’s not unlike the familiar buzz of Ripped Fuel.

“How do you feel about free trade coffee, Brad? In the opinion of this ex-Marine, I think it’s complete bullshit. Like seriously, Starbucks? All of your beans are “ethically sourced”, he makes finger quotes here, “yet your customers throw away more than four million cups every year? And your, ‘one tree for every bag of coffee sales pitch’? Utter shit - if you could even plant trees at that rate, we’d call you fucking Captain Planet and put you in a Marvel comic book.” Ray’s knee won’t stop bouncing off the underneath of the counter and he really needs to get a grip RIGHT NOW.

“Good morning to you too, Ray, and Jesus, I thought you’d detoxed from the Ripped Fuel. The fact that you know specific figures on the waste that Starbucks produces just proves that you’re more of a frappuccino bloated prepubescent teenage girl than I feared. Nevertheless , a six mile run will quickly cure you of this pussiness. Look sharp.” Brad says this lot as he crosses the kitchen, pours himself a cup of steaming coffee, and leans across the counter to examine Ray for signs of Ripped Fuel ingestion. Ray stares back, noticing an almost imperceptible tightnesses that briefly overrules Brad’s expression. He has no idea what that’s about.

“Brad”, Ray begins, and winses, picking at the peeling paint on the side of the counter. He hates that he has to have this conversation, and even more, he hates how terrified he is to have this conversation. If it goes badly, he might very well lose Brad. “I really don’t think that the run is going to happen.” He quickly slips on an impish smile to cover his discomfort, and then adds, “you haven’t even tried my famous caffeinated bean water yet! It’s the best on the block! I swear to god, if you can’t take one day off, I’m FedExing you to Doc Brian for a psych eval, and don’t think I won’t make sure you fail it, even to give you one day of true R&R.”

Brad, who had been contemplatively sipping his coffee and staring into the living room, looks at Ray with an exasperated glance.

“Knew you’d pussy out; fine, I agree to forgo the run, IF, and only if I am allowed to force feed you more pineapple pizza before our run tomorrow morning.” His glance becomes an evil smirk, fully knowing that whether or not allowance is given, he’ll do it anyways.

And goddamnit if Ray wouldn’t willingly allow him to - he is so fucked. Instead of replying, he rolls his eyes and crosses to the living room, where he flops down on the couch. Brad joins him a minute later, coffee cup in one hand, and a plate of toast in another. He  silently offers Ray a slice, who happily crunches on it, spraying crumbs and spite everywhere.

“Ray, sometimes I wonder how you managed to survive Iraq without being slaughtered by Q-Tip and eaten as bacon. The way you eat, I’m honestly surprised no one mistook you for livestock.” Brad doesn’t even glance at Ray’s overly obnoxious chewing, instead choosing to flip the TV on, where CNN blares obnoxiously.

“Thank you, Jeff. And in other news, the Don’t Ask Don’t Tell Repeal of 2010 has finally been fully implemented. President Obama will host a press conference to celebrate this historical event later this evening. It just so happens that we have a heartwarming clip taken at the Joplin Regional Airport yesterday  which I think really demonstrates just what this repeal means for many LBTQ+ servicemen.”

Ray’s stomach drops, but there’s not time to run before the clip is rolled.

The footage is clearly taken on an iPhone, and is slightly blurry, but not enough to obscure the obvious faces in front of him. In the clip, the short, dark haired man drops his backpack on the terminal floor and runs full tilt towards a tall, Viking looking man, jumping practically into his arms, and wrapping his legs around the taller man’s waist. The blonde man laughs quietly and smiles fondly down at the smaller man, but spins him in a circle anyways, Marine fatigues clear, even in the video.

Beside him, Brad goes absolutely still.

The news anchor is talking again, something about the heartwarming affection that can be seen, the obvious love between the two men. “I mean, just look at the way they look at each other,” interrupts a second news anchor, “it’s clear that they share a special bond.” The rest is drowned out by a rushing sound in Ray’s ears, who glances over to gauge Brad’s reaction, only to find him already looking at Ray.

“Brad, I…”, It’s not often that Ray Person is at a loss for words; not a comforting thought in this moment. Instead, Ray shakes his head, and bolts, leaving before he can fuck this up anymore.

“Ray! Ray! Goddamnit, you sister fucking idiot! Stop, Jesus fucking Christ!”, he can hear Brad yelling behind him, but does his best to ignore him; he certainly has practice at it.

Next time he glances at his surroundings, he’s driving ninety down the highway in his truck.

Eventually, he stops to check Google Maps, and realizes that he’s left his phone on the counter, probably in a puddle of black coffee. Miserably, he recalls that it’s probably the last time he’ll listen to Brad’s voice for a long time. He can’t even call him in a drunken haze to hear him rant, that is, if he picks up. The Iceman isn’t really one for words.

Ray finds himself at Walton Lake, where he used to swim as a kid - even when he’s not conscious, he ends up near landmarks that remind him of Brad. He laughs bitterly.

Since it’s only ten in the morning, he hunts around for a beer in the cab of his truck, and slouches down to the lake, laying underneath a tree. He figures that sleeping is his only hope of passing enough time to forget how colossally he has fucked up his life. He skips rocks for a while, and ends up watching the local kids push each other into the water. It only makes him feel worse. He suddenly recalls all the times Brad had given him that wry smile in the Humvee rolling through desolate wasteland after desolate wasteland. He was always checking in on him, “easy on the Ripped Fuel, Ray”, or an (almost) gently phrased “stay frosty, gents.” Ray drops his head between his legs; god, he is so fucked. He knows that he loves Brad, and that’s what terrifies him. It’s so much easier to throw insults back and forth, antagonize him with Avril Lavigne and Ripped Fuel Rants - he knows how Brad will react to those quirks. This… this is uncharted territory.

Finally, Ray decides that wallowing in self pity won’t accomplish anything further - going home to a Brad free house is going to hurt either way, might as well get it over with.

                                                     <GK>

He opens the door cautiously, not ready to be confronted with an empty house. He sucks in a breathe when his eyes are immediately drawn to the straight back figure sitting at the kitchen counter. Brad’s eyes meet his, and Ray is suddenly reminded that his demeanor isn’t the only reason they call him the Iceman. Quietly, he closes the door, and makes for his bedroom, hoping for as clean a confrontation as possible, but Brad is off his stool and pinning (?) him against the wall of his bedroom hall.

“No, Ray. We are going to talk about this. Like the semi-adults that the Corpse raised us to be. Do you think your disease ridden brain can handle a simple five minute conversation?” Brad says it calmly, ice laced in his voice, but the grip that he has around Ray’s wrists communicates something entirely different. He nods in response. Still, Brad makes not attempt to move them, only pinning Ray further into the wall.

“Did you know about the media coverage this morning? Is that why you refused to go on a run like a pussy bitch?” Clearly, the interrogation has begun.

Ray avoids Brad’s eyes as best he can: “What do you think, Bradley? That I was just going to drop that kind of bomb on you first thing in the morning? Oh, by the way, the Internet thinks that we’re in love, and it’s trending on Twitter and all the other god forsaken social medias that tween girls consume these days. I know you think you’re some sort of demolitions expert, but not even you’re qualified to diffuse that kind of ammunition, Brad. So fuck you, yes, I knew. And no, I didn’t say anything.”

Brad forces Ray’s chin up with one hand, while the other pins both of his wrists above his head. “Why?”, he asks simply, his eyes like chips of hard sapphire.

“Fuck you, Brad. You wanna know why? You dying to know that fucking badly? Because I knew that you finding out would ruin this,” - he jerks his chin to indicate the two of them. “But, if the Internet found out, then I guess it’s pretty fucking obvious”. Ray laughs again, a caustic sound.

“What’s obvious?”, Brad’s voice is almost a growl now, clearly beyond pissed off with Ray. “Ray?”

“That I’m fucking in love with you, that’s what.” Ray practically spits it in his face; he’s so tired of holding it in. Fuck it, if Brad wants him to ruin this with the truth, then so be it.

Brad steps back so suddenly that Ray is slammed against the wall, his head cracking painfully. He closes his eyes against the sensation, waiting for Brad to walk away, to walk out - it’s the only ending to this unfortunate series of events.

“You’re what?” The softness of Brad’s tone is the most startling aspect of the phrase to Ray - why hasn’t he walked away yet? “You’re what?”, Brad repeats, blinking almost owlishly as Ray finally looks at him.

“I’m in love with you”, Ray says flatly. What does Brad want out of this? To rub in the satisfaction that he’s managed to force his biggest secret out of him?

“Say it again”, Brad steps closer, effectively repinning Ray, who is frankly getting tired of his internal organs being punished over five treacherous words.

“I’m in love with you?” The end comes up in a question like inflection, seriously Brad, what is going on…?

Brad laughs out loud, probably the strangest turn of events in an already bizarre day; Ray is too exhausted to fight any longer, so he just rests his head against the wall.

“You have no idea how long I’ve been waiting for you to tell me”, Ray’s head snaps back up. “Seriously?”

It’s Brad’s turn to nod. “You jumped out of our Humvee screaming at Batista to back the fuck up, since apparently your mother gave you barely enough braincells to eat fucking toast, toast, Ray. That’s when I knew.” The confession is quiet, splitting the air, since Brad is only inches now from Ray’s face.

“You love me?”, the questions is hedged in hesitation, but goddamnit if Ray doesn’t want to hear it back.

The Iceman nods, but it’s all the confirmation that Ray needs. It would be easy, so easy, to bridge the gap. All Ray would have to do is lean in. Fuck it. So he does.

Brad reacts immediately, pinning both of Ray’s wrists against the wall with one massive hand, and cupping his face with the other. The kiss isn’t by any means gentle, nor is it coordinated. It’s wet, and messy, and (cliched as it might be) everything Ray imagined it would be. Ray stretches upwards to tug Brad’s lower lip into his mouth, and Brad lets out an imperceptible moan. He shoves at Ray’s t-shirt until he musters up enough coordination to lift it over his head.

“I couldn’t concentrate this morning, with you in my t-shirt”, Brad mutters against his neck. “I couldn’t stop thinking about how many ways I could think of getting it off you”. Ray groans and tilts his neck, giving Brad better access with which to suck marks along the column of his throat. When Brad scrapes his teeth along his Adam’s apple, he practically whimpers - self-respect has just hit an all time low.

Ray’s hands, which have found their way to Brad’s waist dip lower, and squeeze. He growls against Ray’s throat, and sets them on his shoulders. Ray uses the leverage to wrap his legs around Brad’s waist, laughing internally at the familiar position. “Bedroom?”, he mutters to Brad. The jerk of breathe that he takes from the query seems to be answer enough, as he bodily carries Ray to his bed, dumping him on it in the process. Brad shucks off his sweatpants and crawls up the bed, intent on getting Ray out of his jeans as quickly and (ideally) with as little finesse as possible, or so it seems to him.

As Brad curses up a small storm, fighting with the buttons like they’re grenades, Ray deftly unbuttons them, squirming indelicately out of them, and making Brad snort with laughter. Ray grins back at him, “if the early bird gets the worm, does that mean I get the sausage?”. The fond and bemused smile that Brad gives him is worth the blow to his pride that the joke costs him. Without warning, Ray flips them, positioning himself firmly between Brad’s thighs, and begins sucking at his clavicle.

He trails kisses trails down to one nipple, and scrapes his teeth across it, eliciting a moan from Brad. “Didn’t know you were a nipple man, Brad”, Ray jibes softly, choosing to divert his attention to the other aforementioned object.

“Shut up, Ray”, Brad’s words come out stilted, through clenched teeth, as he attempts to keep himself from making too much noise.

Ray merely hums, and continues his oratory exploration.

He finds that tonguing over Brad’s abs make them jump in succession, and that his belly button is surrounded by a delicate trail of white blonde hair that disappears into his navy boxers. (“Navy, Brad? What kind of Marine are you? You don’t want your nuts to be disguised in camo? It’s so sad, that I show more priority to them than you do!”)

Ray bites at Brad’s left hipbone, watching for the way his entire body jumps with pleasure at the pain. Before he can continue though, Brad has flipped them again, and beginning biting his way down Ray’s chest.

“Dude, whoa, Jesus, it’s going to look like I was attack by a wolf. Fuck Brad, fuck, fuck”, Ray can’t seem to make his mouth stop, watching Brad suck marks onto his abdomen and hip bones. He noses his way further down, pulling Ray’s boxers down with his teeth. Ray wants to make a snarky comment about the coordination that that must take, but is currently lacking the brain cells to even think, let alone speak.

It now appears Brad has pulled his boxers down far enough to bite at his inner thighs, making Ray’s cock jump, and littering his legs with messy bites. “Jesus Brad, are you some kind of fucking vampire? Fuck.” He starts to move lower, but Ray grabs his wrist before he can move. “Whoa there, Lone Ranger, we don’t have to do it all in one night, we can take it slow. Seriously. C’mere, Bradley. Come cuddle your Ray-Ray.”

“Ray, I swear you were dropped on the head as a child. No, I guarantee that if I asked your mother, she would tell me she purposely dropped you, thinking it might improve that face.” Brad seems slightly disgruntled at being interrupted from his task, but complies nonetheless. Effectively, he wraps his body around Ray’s in a pseudo cuddle position, crushing him. “Happy?”

Ray squirms and shoves until he’s pushed Brad onto his back, and is sprawled on Brad’s chest, chin propped up so he can look at him.

“We have all the time in the world, Brad. Seriously, we could not move for the next six days, and the world wouldn’t notice. Plus, who else is going to force feed me pineapple pizza?”

“Ray, if you eat anymore pizza, you’re going to gain ten pounds, develop diabetes, and then be rushed to the hospital for a coronary heart transplant. Now go to sleep, or I’ll knock you out myself.”

“You’d still hold my hand during the ambulance ride, though.” Ray Person, finally getting the guy, and the last word.

And, when the alarm clock blares at six the next morning, and Brad forces Ray to run five miles to make up for the loss of yesterday, they’ll both laugh and shove each other, and it will feel like nothing has changed. The after workout shower might now involve two bodies instead of one, but who would notice, except for them?

And, when an official invite to attend the Obama’s annual Easter Egg Hunt arrives in April, Ray will just laugh and claim that they’re Jewish and cannot attend (“bullshit Ray, we’re both atheists, stop using my parents as an excuse”), and Brad will call them exactly what they are, the poster children of DADT, big fucking stereotypes, and to many, big fucking heroes. And no, Ray is still not a rock star, but he is Internet famous, thanks to his hyper active brain, and a ten foot tall Jewish Viking. But you just heard it through the grapevine, didn’t you…?

[asfeedin]

5 Blogging Tips to Help Boost Your Content Now

Every year, Orbit Media releases their Blogging Statistics and Trends survey.

To compile their findings, it’s sent to over 1,000 unique bloggers and content marketing specialists.

Naturally, it’s packed with valuable information, graphs, and tidbits that can transform your outlook on content creation.

But reading a 5,000+ word blog post and deciphering the meaning of dozens of graphs is time-consuming.

And remembering all of it down the line without taking copious, detailed notes? Slim chance.

So, I did it for you!

Here are the biggest takeaways you can learn from the 1,000+ bloggers surveyed to improve your content.

1. Start Spending More Time on Each Post

Most people spend an average of 3 hours and 57 minutes writing a blog post before sending it live, according to the Blogging Survey.

Unless you’ve been an expert in that specific field for the last 10 years, that still isn’t enough.

The problem with spending only four hours on a single post is lack of research.

It’s nearly impossible to conduct impactful (deep) research, synthesize the information, and condense the key takeaways into 2,000 words in four hours or less.

A common issue then becomes the regurgitation of already existing content.

Essentially, just Googling the target keyword, pulling tips from top posts, and then calling it “new.”

That’s not original and it’s sure as heck not going to get results.

Some of the most interesting (and successful) content is months in the making before being published.

Prime example: Search Engine Journal’s 18-part 2020 SEO Guide.

Now go try to write a 2020 SEO guide that matches the quality above in four hours and get back to me with the traffic and ranking results.

It ain’t gonna work.

Content is becoming incredible.

It’s more detailed than ever before.

It delves deeper into each subject’s subtopics and sub-subtopics.

It’s complete with tutorials, tips, studies, original research, and unique value.

If you want average results, spend the average 1-4 hours on your content.

But bloggers spending 6+ hours per post are 38% more likely to report stronger results.

And I’d be willing to wager that with each additional hour (up to a point), those results increase even more.

2. Stop Putting (Real) Editing on the Backburner

Most content out there is dead boring.

It’s dry, nails on a chalkboard content.

Even if the copy is appetizing, it doesn’t mean squat if nobody can digest it.

Content should get people aroused and pique their senses.

It needs to be flawless in tone, style, and delivery.

Without an editor, this becomes a fool’s errand.

You’ve just written 2,000+ words. The last thing your brain wants to do is re-read it five times to check for grammatically incorrect phrases or to see if every last sentence matches the tone of your target audience.

Are you editing your own work?

If so, you aren’t alone.

According to the survey, 41% of writers edit their own work.

Another 28% informally showcase it to one or two people.

Only 22% of writers have a formal editor.

And guess what? Those that use one or more formal editors report 38% better results.

Bad grammar and sloppy editing can damage your credibility and even hinders your likelihood of being promoted and accelerating job advancement.

Plus, the readers don’t lie:

42% of ‘em state that spelling errors give them a negative perception of brand and status.

And, according to the Blogging Survey, showing it to a friend isn’t good enough.

You need serious editors dedicated to the task of content perfection.

There are countless sites like Fiverr and UpWork where you can hire quality editors:

Feeling frugal?

There are dozens of grammar and editing tools online.

I never send off an article without running it through Grammarly:

It checks for plagiarism, spelling, grammar, punctuation, fluency, conciseness, formality, clarity, variety, and vocabulary.

Plus, you can customize goals to deliver more accurate editing suggestions based on what intent, style, and emotion you are going for:

This should serve as a baseline for editing your content.

Once you do this, it’s time to run it by an editor.

Can’t find one?

Grammarly even offers human proofreading services, so you have no excuse.

No matter what you do, always run your content through an editing tool and a professional editor.

Your readers can (and will) thank you later.

3. Stop Neglecting Old Content

Writing a top quality blog post takes hours. Days. Weeks.

Maybe even months if it’s a long guide with production quality visuals.

With so much time invested in a piece of content, it’s easy to hit the publish button and kick back in your chair.

You did it, right?

Sort of. But not really.

Content doesn’t just stay evergreen because you want it to.

Sure, planning in advance for more evergreen topics can help, but even still, nothing in digital marketing stays the same for long.

Once you hit publish, your work is only 75% of the way done. Posts can become outdated in just weeks.

According to the Blogging Statistics and Trends survey, over 33% of content marketers aren’t updating their content after hitting that shiny, instantly gratifying publish button.

I’ve been guilty of going on cruise control, too.

Yet those who do update old content are “2x more likely to report success.”

Updating content gives you the opportunity to grab low-hanging fruit and overtake posts above you if you fall behind, or ensure that competitors can’t do it to you.

Start by looking at your analytics for given posts.

What rankings and traffic did you have when your post was at its peak?

Has traffic flatlined?

Check to see if rankings have changed over time:

If they have, it’s time to update your post to fit searcher expectations.

Head to SERPs for the target keywords and examine the few posts ranking above yours.

Are they targeting Google’s machine learning by answering critically related questions?

Is their content more in-depth, longer, or contain more visuals than yours?

Does it touch on the latest updates and news to keep it relevant?

Ultimately ask yourself:

What are they doing that I haven’t?

Fix it, republish it, and reclaim your rightful SERP position.

4. Start Conducting Your Own Research for Backlink Goldmines

Infographics have long been touted as “link bait.”

But most are far too long, dense, and text-heavy to make a big impact.

Not to mention their cheesy illustrated graphics that we’ve all seen thousands of times over.

And now, good infographics are few and far between.

Hootsuite wrote about the decline of infographics back in 2015.

And a study from 2010-2015 proved that infographics were declining in usage and impact.

So, what works to generate genuine backlinks now?

Original research – ironic, considering I’m writing an entire post about an original research study.

And it’s true: original research is killing it right now.

Case and point, the study I am deconstructing here has 4.25k backlinks already.

Plug in just about any reputable, informative, relevant, and statistically significant original research post and you’ll see similar results.

Tons of:

Links.

Keywords.

Traffic.

Winning.

Why?

Because anybody that writes good content knows research is critical to making your point stick.

Writers need data to back up claims, and marketers need data-driven strategies to maximize their budget.

Providing original research nails both with precision.

According to the Blogging Statistics and Trends survey, 85% of those publishing original research report stronger results than traditional blogging.

Want to create better content that gets noticed?

Start developing original research on unique and trending topics in your niche.

Sure, it might cost you a few thousand bucks to do, but that’s why it works:

You aren’t posting cookie-cutter content.

5. Start Doing What Everyone Else Isn’t Doing

It’s tempting to pump out a bunch of content for the sake of content.

It makes you feel great when you click on your blog and see dozens of long-form posts.

But, unless you are actively doing what most people are not doing, content is a total waste of time.

If you think that you can go write a cookie-cutter SEO tip post in the current age and generate good rankings, think again.

Today’s landscape is brutal.

Even for the most obscure, low-traffic keywords.

Check out the SERPs for “International SEO,” a keyword with just 250 searches a month.

Moz, Search Engine Journal, SEL, Neil Patel, WordStream, SEMrush, and HubSpot. Not a single DA under 87.

Yikes.

Want to rank for it without a DA above 87 and hundreds to thousands of backlinks over years of time?

Two-thousand words ain’t gonna cut it.

“Long-form” doesn’t mean jack if it’s not different in some fundamental way.

You’re gonna need much more, and most people are far too stingy or lazy to do it.

But that’s actually good news.

If everyone was doing it, you’d be stuck in the same position: unable to outrank the big players.

Thankfully, there are tons of strategies that most bloggers are not using, including said big players.

This gives you a powerful opportunity to capitalize on what readers (and Google) want to see:

Only 11% publish 2,000+ word posts: Increase your length, but make sure the content isn’t fluff. Actively research subtopics and provide value. Nobody wants to read 5,000 words if it doesn’t help them solve a problem.

Only 1% collaborate with influencers: Reach out to influencers for quotes to boost credibility. The benefit here is both credibility and the increased chance of these influencers sharing the content and linking back to it.

Only 26% add video content to their articles, and only 7% use audio, but they generate the biggest impacts: For just a few bucks, you can outsource video and audio summaries of your articles to freelancers on UpWork or Fiverr and add immense value for mobile users who enjoy video or want to listen podcast-style.

All of these strategies are listed as the least common tactics among 1,000+ bloggers.

And unsurprisingly, they also rank as the most effective.

Why? Because everything else is beaten to a pulp.

As tactics become more popular over time, receptiveness sinks like a rock (see: Law of Shitty Click-Throughs)

Want better content, better rankings, and better engagement?

Invest in what most content creators are skipping.

Conclusion

With millions of blog posts being written, edited, and published on a daily basis, differentiation is the holy grail.

If you take anything away from this post, it should be this:

Do what other content creators fail to do.

Spend more time on each post (more research, more outlining, more flow development, and more writing).

Have multiple, dedicated editor third-parties edit and proofread your work. They are going to catch errors you simply can’t.

Start revamping your old content and be consistent. Once you hit publish, your job is far from done.

Start producing your own research studies. People love original research. Is it hard to produce? Duh. Is it time-consuming? You know the answer. Is it worth it? Data says yes, unequivocally.

Invest time and money into tactics that most content producers don’t: video, audio, influencer outreach, and more.

More than 1,000 bloggers can teach us that going the extra mile is the only hope in the noise of modern SERPs.

More Resources:

Image Credits

Featured Image: Pixabay All screenshots taken by author, April 2020

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How to Overcome Your Biggest Enemy in Life: Fear

Have you ever heard someone say “Me? I’m rubbish at mathematics!” or “It’s no good asking me I’ve always struggled with grammar”? These are two perfect examples of the chosen thoughts we allow to hang out in our minds that dismember our goals and our results.

So many of us enable the wrong thoughts in our minds and our brain is only too happy to deliver exactly what we ask for. The damage is caused when we don’t realise we’ve been asking for the wrong things.

You see, our brain is a clever old bunch of cells. It’s highly likely you’ve heard of the exercise where you are asked to not think of a pink elephant… and weirdly there in your head is a pink elephant! Or of Pavlov’s dogs, who could be encouraged to salivate just on hearing a bell ring. Even now I could say to you “Don’t imagine a lemon being cut in half and the juice being squeezed down your throat”, and you’d start to realise “Hey I’m producing more saliva”. How is that possible?

Because our brains WILL deliver what we ask for.

When it comes to performance we have to choose our words carefully. If you appreciate the above and accept that we are easily suggestible creatures, then by nature it stands to reason that I can give you some top tips and tools to help you perform better just based on what words you are choosing to think.

You see, if words can impact what your body does it can also impact the results you achieve, and the standard to which you perform at.

How Fear Screws You Up

How is it that one person can relish the opportunity to stand on a stage in front of 5000 people, and another would rather have their spleen burst before it was their turn. (And trust me as someone who used to have a very physical fear of public speaking and who now adores it and coaches people out of that fear, I really know what that fear is like.) If we allow such a fear to fester and hang out in our minds then guess what that can do to your performance?

Let’s stick with the public speaking fear since it is still one of the top fears in the world. We are still more scared of speaking than dying. Crazy right?

You are asked to speak to a large audience and the opportunity has the potential to rocket your career. If you fear public speaking then the overriding thoughts are around the fear… instead of the ideal results you want to get.

For instance, instead of thinking:

“This is the opportunity I’ve been waiting for and it’s going to rocket my success”

You are more likely to be thinking:

“Oh no the biggest opportunity of my life and I’m going to screw it up.”

Now remember our brain likes to keep us happy. So, if you are thinking the first positive thought guess what you are likely to get? And what about the second one?

“That’s all very well and good Mandie but it’s a fear. It’s real, it’s tangible. It shuts my throat, makes me shake, sweat and I struggle to remember my name let alone an entire speech!” you say.

And from many years’ experience of helping people overcome those fears I know that this is exactly what fear relies on. It relies on you accepting the feelings, and accepting the physicality of it. It relies on you accepting those negative emotions and really experiencing them on a level that causes you to never question them. And that is the key.

To increase your performance success, you have to question your thoughts. Not all fears are obvious. Some can hide out in your subconscious for years and it’s only when you work on them that you become aware of a fear that has been impacting on your success.

Everyone Has Fears, Even Those Who Look So Tough

Don’t believe me?

Only recently I had someone who I’ve admired for a long time on an international level say to me that it was not until they read chapter 3 of my book that they realised something had been impacting their success for years. That something was the action of picking up the phone. How can picking up the phone kill your performance?

Let’s break it down by thinking about what happens if you choose your actions according to your thoughts. So, if you think picking up the phone is going to interrupt someone’s day, make them less likely to say “Yes” and want to hear what you have got to say, are you likely to revert to an email?

On the other hand, what if you accept that you are a valuable person who has every right to speak to someone on the phone because you have something useful to say that could be very relevant and interesting? What are the chances you will pick up the phone?

So how do you revert to positive thinking and override the fears that damage your performance?

4 Tips to Override Your Fears

Adjust Your Assumptions

What assumptions are you making and are they good or bad for you? For instance, if you assume that mistakes are opportunities to learn, then you will go for it with all your heart. You will trust that even failure has its benefits and use them effectively to power up your performance. On the other hand, if you believe that failure is dangerous and damages your reputation and success then you are likely to shy away from the opportunities that can risk failure. With fear, you have to think like the superhero in a movie. Be prepared to step into situations that you fear with trust that you can do this. You don’t see superhero’s look at the big evil 20-foot bad guy and think “Mmm I don’t think I will protect mankind today, he looks a bit scary.”

Remember No One Really Cares

A big reason that fear can impact your performance and thus success is because we imagine what people are thinking. Ironically, it’s not usually true. We assume that everyone is thinking about us, and yet they are much more likely to be thinking about themselves — “what’s for tea”, “what they are going to get their Mom for her birthday” or “why did I wear these shoes, they’re far too tight”. However, remember that fear relies on negativity holding us in place and so if you just learn to accept that everyone is thinking their own thoughts and are as obsessed with them as you are yours, you can stop allowing incorrect thoughts into your head. And as one business friend said to me once “Mandie, you have no right to the thoughts in other people’s heads.”

Shift Your Focus

Fear loves us to repeat patterns. So, if you have thoughts in your head that say “this won’t work”, or “I’m scared of the end results” — then your brain will do all it can to prove you right.

Therefore, if you can have a stronger new direction to focus your attention on the fear will reduce and eventually dissipate. For instance, let’s go back to the fear of public speaking (You can replace this fear with one of your own!) If you fear public speaking and focus on what you fear, that is what you will get. On the other hand, if you have a clear goal in sight then that is what you are more likely to get. That means you need to work out what you want. What do you want? What is the goal? Where do you want this to lead? By answering these questions with your true passions and desires your brain has a positive direction to aim for, and not the fear routed patterns of the past.

Don’t Be Afraid of Looking Stupid

Closely connected to the fear of what people think is the fear that you will make a fool of yourself. Thus, if you fear what people think and/or making mistakes and getting it wrong then fear again gets to overpower you. Think about a time you’ve felt stupid for saying or doing something. What happened next? Then answer, “How did that make you feel?” and then from that ask yourself “Did that result in a feeling or an action?” and then answer, “what happened next?” In this way, you can start to build up a picture of the automatic path way connected to this fear. How you fall into old patterns that have not served you powerfully, and allowed fear to hold its power of you. (And yes, this process can be used on any fear, I call this a negative spiral.) Once you build a picture of what is happening in your old state you can learn to see what thoughts and feelings create what actions. For instance, if you stood up for yourself and spoke up and that led to you feeling inferior, did that then lead to you not taking on the project that was offered to you, because you feared getting it wrong? Understanding the thoughts that create the actions means that you then decide to create a new thought, and that will lead to new actions. But again, this really needs a powerful focus and goal to help you achieve.

Ultimately fear is allowed to impact our performance because we’ve learnt to trust fear. Fear is useful in that it keeps us safe, however there aren’t too many woolly mammoths on the streets anymore. So when fear is given too much power it damages our success. Learn to challenge and stop assuming. And most importantly trust that you can do this, you can give yourself all the proof of your successes to tell you this. And I will leave you with this thought: Why do we assume what if we are awesome at something then everyone else can do that too? While if we can’t do something we are idiots because everyone else can do it?

You see, fear really does wish to damage your success. So, it’s time to challenge it.

The post How to Overcome Your Biggest Enemy in Life: Fear appeared first on Lifehack.

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[trendingnewsb]

How to Overcome Your Biggest Enemy in Life: Fear

Have you ever heard someone say “Me? I’m rubbish at mathematics!” or “It’s no good asking me I’ve always struggled with grammar”? These are two perfect examples of the chosen thoughts we allow to hang out in our minds that dismember our goals and our results.

So many of us enable the wrong thoughts in our minds and our brain is only too happy to deliver exactly what we ask for. The damage is caused when we don’t realise we’ve been asking for the wrong things.

You see, our brain is a clever old bunch of cells. It’s highly likely you’ve heard of the exercise where you are asked to not think of a pink elephant… and weirdly there in your head is a pink elephant! Or of Pavlov’s dogs, who could be encouraged to salivate just on hearing a bell ring. Even now I could say to you “Don’t imagine a lemon being cut in half and the juice being squeezed down your throat”, and you’d start to realise “Hey I’m producing more saliva”. How is that possible?

Because our brains WILL deliver what we ask for.

When it comes to performance we have to choose our words carefully. If you appreciate the above and accept that we are easily suggestible creatures, then by nature it stands to reason that I can give you some top tips and tools to help you perform better just based on what words you are choosing to think.

You see, if words can impact what your body does it can also impact the results you achieve, and the standard to which you perform at.

How Fear Screws You Up

How is it that one person can relish the opportunity to stand on a stage in front of 5000 people, and another would rather have their spleen burst before it was their turn. (And trust me as someone who used to have a very physical fear of public speaking and who now adores it and coaches people out of that fear, I really know what that fear is like.) If we allow such a fear to fester and hang out in our minds then guess what that can do to your performance?

Let’s stick with the public speaking fear since it is still one of the top fears in the world. We are still more scared of speaking than dying. Crazy right?

You are asked to speak to a large audience and the opportunity has the potential to rocket your career. If you fear public speaking then the overriding thoughts are around the fear… instead of the ideal results you want to get.

For instance, instead of thinking:

“This is the opportunity I’ve been waiting for and it’s going to rocket my success”

You are more likely to be thinking:

“Oh no the biggest opportunity of my life and I’m going to screw it up.”

Now remember our brain likes to keep us happy. So, if you are thinking the first positive thought guess what you are likely to get? And what about the second one?

“That’s all very well and good Mandie but it’s a fear. It’s real, it’s tangible. It shuts my throat, makes me shake, sweat and I struggle to remember my name let alone an entire speech!” you say.

And from many years’ experience of helping people overcome those fears I know that this is exactly what fear relies on. It relies on you accepting the feelings, and accepting the physicality of it. It relies on you accepting those negative emotions and really experiencing them on a level that causes you to never question them. And that is the key.

To increase your performance success, you have to question your thoughts. Not all fears are obvious. Some can hide out in your subconscious for years and it’s only when you work on them that you become aware of a fear that has been impacting on your success.

Everyone Has Fears, Even Those Who Look So Tough

Don’t believe me?

Only recently I had someone who I’ve admired for a long time on an international level say to me that it was not until they read chapter 3 of my book that they realised something had been impacting their success for years. That something was the action of picking up the phone. How can picking up the phone kill your performance?

Let’s break it down by thinking about what happens if you choose your actions according to your thoughts. So, if you think picking up the phone is going to interrupt someone’s day, make them less likely to say “Yes” and want to hear what you have got to say, are you likely to revert to an email?

On the other hand, what if you accept that you are a valuable person who has every right to speak to someone on the phone because you have something useful to say that could be very relevant and interesting? What are the chances you will pick up the phone?

So how do you revert to positive thinking and override the fears that damage your performance?

4 Tips to Override Your Fears

Adjust Your Assumptions

What assumptions are you making and are they good or bad for you? For instance, if you assume that mistakes are opportunities to learn, then you will go for it with all your heart. You will trust that even failure has its benefits and use them effectively to power up your performance. On the other hand, if you believe that failure is dangerous and damages your reputation and success then you are likely to shy away from the opportunities that can risk failure. With fear, you have to think like the superhero in a movie. Be prepared to step into situations that you fear with trust that you can do this. You don’t see superhero’s look at the big evil 20-foot bad guy and think “Mmm I don’t think I will protect mankind today, he looks a bit scary.”

Remember No One Really Cares

A big reason that fear can impact your performance and thus success is because we imagine what people are thinking. Ironically, it’s not usually true. We assume that everyone is thinking about us, and yet they are much more likely to be thinking about themselves — “what’s for tea”, “what they are going to get their Mom for her birthday” or “why did I wear these shoes, they’re far too tight”. However, remember that fear relies on negativity holding us in place and so if you just learn to accept that everyone is thinking their own thoughts and are as obsessed with them as you are yours, you can stop allowing incorrect thoughts into your head. And as one business friend said to me once “Mandie, you have no right to the thoughts in other people’s heads.”

Shift Your Focus

Fear loves us to repeat patterns. So, if you have thoughts in your head that say “this won’t work”, or “I’m scared of the end results” — then your brain will do all it can to prove you right.

Therefore, if you can have a stronger new direction to focus your attention on the fear will reduce and eventually dissipate. For instance, let’s go back to the fear of public speaking (You can replace this fear with one of your own!) If you fear public speaking and focus on what you fear, that is what you will get. On the other hand, if you have a clear goal in sight then that is what you are more likely to get. That means you need to work out what you want. What do you want? What is the goal? Where do you want this to lead? By answering these questions with your true passions and desires your brain has a positive direction to aim for, and not the fear routed patterns of the past.

Don’t Be Afraid of Looking Stupid

Closely connected to the fear of what people think is the fear that you will make a fool of yourself. Thus, if you fear what people think and/or making mistakes and getting it wrong then fear again gets to overpower you. Think about a time you’ve felt stupid for saying or doing something. What happened next? Then answer, “How did that make you feel?” and then from that ask yourself “Did that result in a feeling or an action?” and then answer, “what happened next?” In this way, you can start to build up a picture of the automatic path way connected to this fear. How you fall into old patterns that have not served you powerfully, and allowed fear to hold its power of you. (And yes, this process can be used on any fear, I call this a negative spiral.) Once you build a picture of what is happening in your old state you can learn to see what thoughts and feelings create what actions. For instance, if you stood up for yourself and spoke up and that led to you feeling inferior, did that then lead to you not taking on the project that was offered to you, because you feared getting it wrong? Understanding the thoughts that create the actions means that you then decide to create a new thought, and that will lead to new actions. But again, this really needs a powerful focus and goal to help you achieve.

Ultimately fear is allowed to impact our performance because we’ve learnt to trust fear. Fear is useful in that it keeps us safe, however there aren’t too many woolly mammoths on the streets anymore. So when fear is given too much power it damages our success. Learn to challenge and stop assuming. And most importantly trust that you can do this, you can give yourself all the proof of your successes to tell you this. And I will leave you with this thought: Why do we assume what if we are awesome at something then everyone else can do that too? While if we can’t do something we are idiots because everyone else can do it?

You see, fear really does wish to damage your success. So, it’s time to challenge it.

The post How to Overcome Your Biggest Enemy in Life: Fear appeared first on Lifehack.

from Viral News HQ http://ift.tt/2fooKDj via Viral News HQ