#pretend that spelled mobile correctly

[galaxysharks]

I will continue to flood this tag, and the unfortunate few who follow me or the tag will continue to endure it.

I want season 4 to show more of the routine relationship between Maddox and Jet, like the everyday, not-post-unintentional outing- relationship.

Mostly I want Jet to be this hilarious awkward bean whose only response to social panic being "Maddie-fix-it!"

And I want the rest of the wildcats to be like " y'all think SHE'S gonna help this?"

Que Maddox trying and then making the problem somehow exponentially worse and better. Cause it's no longer a situation of 'these new kids are insensitive assholes' and is now a situation of ' oh, you're just like this. You think this is helping'.

As a side note, I think Maddox and Mr. Mazzara will get along great. I assume she will end up as the new AV president. Probably not right away, but once obligatory Ms. Jenn adopts CA siblings arc.

#high school musical the musical the series #hsmtmts #hsmtmts maddox #hsm the series #hsmtmts jet #ms jenn #mr mazzara #dont come at me idk how to spell it and im on moble #pretend that spelled mobile correctly #i am here for socially inept siblings getting picked up by the scruff and adopted #hsmtmts season 4 #season 4

[lululeighsworld]

wait i just realized something. one of the wedding decorations with auspicious meanings that Ophelia mentions in her Hoshidan festival conversation is a black pegasus feather.

but none of the classes in Nohr use pegasi. let alone black ones. And the Hoshidan classes sky/falcon knight have white pegasi.

So where on earth are engaged nohrian couples getting black pegasus feathers from??

(I guess there are the dark falcons, but the item you need for reclassing is DLC exclusive. So maybe these feathers really are a rarity? Given that this convo is also from DLC it wouldn't surprise me)

#things i am putting too mhch thought into that don't matter that much: #i just like thinking about the vague mentions of world building okay #alright good night #please pretend i spelled much correctly i am on mobile

[madamebaggio]

Notes: I DID IT!!!

YES!

Anyway...

Previously.

Guys, this is serious SMUT. Like I went ALL OUT, PULLED ALL THE STOPS, MADE THEM GET DOWN AND DIRTY!

So fair warning, this gets intense.

BTW I literally just finished this and I didn’t even re-read it. So it’s probably full of mistakes. Let me know if something is really bad.

***

Sansa was not okay. She’d never be okay again.

She was NOT BEING DRAMATIC!

Oh lord!

She’d let her boss finger her at a wedding!

She was pretty sure this was going to count against her when the higher powers were deciding if she should go to heaven or hell.

She was going to hell for it. She was convinced.

The biggest problem was that Sansa didn’t know who she could talk to about this. She needed to talk to someone but... 

Normally she’d go to Marge, but now that she knew that Vortigern knew the Baratheons she felt awkward. Not that she thought Margaery would go around telling the whole family about it, but…

God, this was terrible.

But she could do this. She’d pretend nothing ever happened; it was the mature thing to do.

“Miss Stark.” Mr. Pendragon stopped by her desk as soon as he arrived.

She gave him her most polite smile. “Good morning, Mr. Pendragon. How can I help?”

He was looking at her, trying to see something… “I need to talk to you. My office.”

Oh god. That was it.

She followed him in silence, proud of herself for not tripping and managing to act as if everything was normal.

The door closing behind her felt like a sentence.

She sat on the chair across from him, the desk -that damned desk -separating them. Mr. Pendragon was watching her intently, but he was in silence.

“Mr. Pendragon?” She prodded gently, as if this was just another work meeting.

He sighed. “I have to apologize, Miss Stark.”

Oh shit.

“Mr. Pendragon…”

He raised his hand and she shut up. “I don’t go around seducing my -very young -secretaries. What I’ve done is unforgivable, and I do apologize for that.”

She didn’t say anything, waiting for what he’d say after.

“I understand if you feel uncomfortable working for me.” He continued when she didn’t say anything. “I can transfer you to another sector, or even find you a job in another place…”

“Mr. Pendragon!” Sansa protested, when she couldn’t help herself anymore. “There’s no need for that. It was…”

He waited in silence while she tried to find a word that wouldn’t make this all worse.

“It was something that happened…” She continued, trying to keep a semblance of control. “I don’t want to be transferred, and I believe in you.”

Vortigern sighed. “I don’t want to transfer you, or fire you, Miss Stark.” He finally said. “However, I can’t ignore what happened. Despite of what you might say, my conduct was highly inappropriate, for a vast number of reasons.”

Sansa swallowed nervously.

“If you say this won’t affect your work, I’ll take your word for it.” He assured her. “However, you don’t need to force yourself to stay if it’ll make you uncomfortable.”

Having this conversation was making her uncomfortable, but she couldn’t say that. Not when he was being mature and discussing it with her.

“Mr. Pendragon, I’m fine. I want to get back to work.” She assured him. “I assure you I have no problems with working with you from here on.”

Vortigern stared at her in silence for a long time, and Sansa could imagine him weighing his options. Should he believe her?

Or should he send her away?

She reacted too fast, but… Would it actually be better if she stopped working directly with him?

“Fine.” He decided at last. “I’ll believe you, Miss Stark. We’ll push past this… Incident.”

“Thank you, Mr. Pendragon.”

***

Sansa couldn’t lie: the first few days after the wedding were uncomfortable and charged, but soon things went back to normal.

When two weeks had passed, she hardly thought about it.

Fine, she still thought about it a lot. But only when she was alone in her apartment, far from him.

In those moments, her thoughts would go crazy and she’d wonder and wonder…

Why had he done it? He didn’t seem drunk.

Did he think it was a mistake because she worked for him or because of her age?

What did he think of her now?

Would she ever feel the same thing again?

Because this was the scariest part of it all; in that stolen moment at the wedding, with just his fingers in her, Sansa felt pleasure like she’d never felt before. Sex had never been that intense to her -ever! What if she never felt the same thing again?

This was a depressing thought, but Sansa couldn’t linger on it.

Mr. Pendragon -for his part -was still the same boss as he was before. If one were to look at him, they’d never imagine something had transpired at all.

Sansa figured she was managing to keep her cool well, considering no one had said a thing to her.

On a Friday night -almost three weeks after the wedding -she was working over hours with Mr. Pendragon. They’d have a big event in two months, and they were going over the list of guests together.

It was night already and the office was silent, as only the two of them remained there. Mr. Pendragon had told Sansa to order food a while ago, and they ate and continued working.

It was almost 9 when he stopped and checked his watch. “You should go, Miss Stark. I hadn’t meant to keep you this long.”

“It’s fine.” Sansa assured him. “I actually prefer working overtime to finish this sooner.”

The corner of his mouth ticked up. “You’re always so dedicated, Miss Stark.”

Oh shit…

“Thank you, Mr. Pendragon.” She told him, her voice overly bright. “Should we finish this…”

“No. I don’t want to go home too late.” He decided getting up. “And you’re young, Miss Stark. You should be getting ready to go out on a Friday night, not working.”

Sansa scoffed before she could stop herself. “I’m sorry, Mr. Pendragon, but you must be confusing me with someone who actually has a social life.” 

They started putting laptops and papers away, but Vortigern was clearly interested in the subject.

“Not possible. You have friends in London, don’t you?”

“I do.” She assured him, also standing up. “But I don’t have the energy to go to clubs or pubs anymore.”

He arched an eyebrow. “Have I been making you work that hard?”

“No.” She denied quickly. “It’s the place. Loud music, people talking at the same time, idiots that don’t understand what ‘no’ means.”

“Sounds exhausting.” He agreed, but Sansa couldn’t tell if he was teasing her or not. “Then I recommend a book and tea.”

“Already in my schedule, Mr. Pendragon.” She affirmed, making Vortigern chuckle.

“So I won’t keep you from it any longer, Miss Stark.”

Just then his phone rang and Sansa reflexively reached for it, but Vortigern put his hand on top of hers, stopping her from actually answering it.

“It’s late. Catia would call my mobile if she needed me.” He said. “Whoever is calling can wait until Monday now.”

“If you say so, sir.” She replied, her voice a bit breathless.

He must have heard something in her voice -exactly what she wished he wouldn’t hear. The phone stopped ringing, but he didn’t let go of her hand. Actually his fingers closed around her wrist. “Miss Stark, you really should go home.”

His voice felt like a caress, and Sansa knew -she really did -that she had to take a step back and break this spell, but...

If he wasn’t doing his part, why should she?

“I… I’m not sure I want to.” She confessed in a whisper.

He brought her wrist to his mouth, and she could feel his breath hitting her skin. “Last chance.” He warned, dropping a kiss to the delicate skin.

Sansa swallowed dryly. “I’m staying.” She decided.

Vortigern let her feel his teeth on her wrist. “You’re staying?” He prodded.

“I’m staying, Mr. Pendragon.” She amended, her eyes burning with desire.

“Yes, you are.”

He pulled her to him, kissing her hard.

Sansa thought her inebriated imagination had made her remember the whole thing better than it had actually been. Now she realised it had actually been that good.

His mouth was demanding, but he wasn’t rough. Sansa melted on his arms, her lips opening to him all too eager.

Vortigern’s hands travelled down her hips, passing her arse and thighs, to pull her pencil skirt up, bunching it around her waist.

Sansa never wished more that she actually wore sexy lingerie.

Vortigern pushed her gently, and her legs bumped on that damned desk. She didn’t need further encouragement to sit on it.

Vortigern was running his hands over her practical pantyhose, a smirk on his lips. He pulled it and her panties down her legs and Sansa was only happy to help him along, kicking off her shoes, raising her hips.

She felt completely reckless, sitting there with most of her clothes, but with her cunt exposed like this.

Vortigern ran teasing fingers up her inner thighs. “If I remember it correctly…” He murmured, leaning closer to her. “This is what you like.”

His finger found her clit, caressed it in a tease. “Mr. Pendragon…” Sansa sighed softly.

“Yes, Miss Stark?” He bit her chin gently.

“Please…” She asked as his fingers kept just lightly touching her where she craved his attention. “Please, I need more.”

“More of what?” He pressed. “This?” His thumb circled her clit, this time firmer.

“Yes, sir, please.” She mewled.

“So polite, Miss Stark.” He kissed the corner of her mouth. “So sweet. You do deserve your reward.”

He put more pressure on her clit, rubbing it in circles, as he dropped kisses to her neck.

When he finally let a finger sink into her cunt, Sansa was already a mass of needy whimpers, legs spread shamelessly so he could have all the access he needed.

Once he put a second thing in her, Sansa had a hard time keeping her eyes open. She didn’t want to stop looking -she was fascinated by his face as he watched her -but her mind was getting foggy as her body climbed higher and higher.

Her thighs were trembling and she could feel sweat all over her body, but she didn’t care, because this was happening again and it felt even better than the last time…

Her orgasm hit her like a freight train, and Sansa would’ve probably screamed her lungs out with Vortigern hadn’t covered her mouth with his, drinking her sounds of pleasure.

He kept fucking her with his fingers, causing little explosions inside her. Sansa whined when he pulled his fingers out.

“Good girl, Miss Stark.” He praised, making her glow.

Vortigern offered her the fingers he’d used to make her come. Sansa opened her mouth obediently and sucked his fingers clean. She’d never tasted herself before, but she found out she didn’t mind it, if it was on Vortigern’s fingers.

“You’re a work of art.” Vortigern cupped her face and brought her in for a kiss.

Sansa felt pampered by the way he did it, so attentive and powerful.

Vortigern pulled her blouse off, letting her in the boring practical blue bra she’d put on that morning. Sansa didn't have much time to be forlorn about her bad underwear choices, because he quickly got rid of it too.

His bigs hands cupped her tits, his fingers rolling her nipples. Harry -her last boyfriend -had always treated her breasts as his personal pillows, squeezing them painfully, even when Sansa complained about it.

But not Vortigern. His touch was assured, but it wasn’t painful. She felt revered by his touch, aroused beyond reason. He dropped a gentle kiss to her nipple.

“Lay back.” He ordered.

Sansa shivered as she did as told. Vortigern opened a drawer and grabbed a condom. (Apparently her boss was really ready for anything.)

“Are you still fine, Sansa?” He asked seriously.

“Yes, sir.” She told him.

“Good.” Vortigern opened his pants, freeing his cock.

It was the first time Sansa saw it and his cock was as impressive as she’d always hoped it would be. Long and thick enough she knew it’d feel good when he pushed into her.

Vortigern pumped himself a few times, before rolling the condom down his cock. He pushed Sansa’s legs wide open, then pushed his cock against her cunt, not inside her yet, just gathering her wetness, teasing her with what she was about to feel.

“Mr. Pendragon.” Sansa whined. “Please, sir, please.”

“Tell me what you want, Miss Stark, and it’s yours.” He promised her.

“I want you inside me.” She asked, no shame or reservations left at this point.

“Since you asked so nicely…”

He pushed into her, painfully slow. It was like he was savoring every inch of the way, letting her feel him taking her body.

Sansa squirmed and he held her by the hips, making it quite clear she had to wait. When he was finally fully inside her, Sansa felt breathless with anticipation.

Vortigern pulled back almost all the way out, before pressing in her again. Sansa’s breathing grew labored as he slowly fucked her.

Her legs were trembling from being spread over, but she realised he was enjoying the sight of his cock fucking her, so she wasn’t about to move.

“Miss Stark.” He pushed into her a bit harder than before. “Suck your fingers, then touch yourself.”

Sansa hurried to comply, making her fingers wet, before using them to play with her clit.

That was about the time that Vortigern started fucking her for real.

His thrusts became harder and faster, his hands would probably leave bruises on Sansa’s pale skin, but she didn’t care. His name fell from her lips in a litany, mixed with her begging for more.

She’d never been like this, she’d never felt this way; as if her soul was about to leave her body.

“Be a good girl, Miss Stark.” Vortigern ordered breathless -and Sansa was pleased to see he was also losing his cool. “Come for me. Now.”

He should not have this kind of power over her, but he did anyway. It was like his voice had a grip on her and it made her tip over the edge, fall into the orgasm that had been growing inside her.

It was his name she called when she came, and he returned the favor when he came a few moments later.

Sansa was spent.

Vortigern caressed her thighs as he pulled away, then took care of the condom. Sansa wondered if she had the strength to sit up, but it seemed unlikely.

(She didn’t even want to consider the mess and they’d have to…”

“Miss Stark.” He sounded so serious again.

“Yes?”

Vortigern offered her a hand and helped her sit up, then pulled her against his chest.

He was taking care of ehr after, and it just showed how shitty Sansa’s past boyfriends were that she thought this was beyond incredible.

He cuddled her to his chest, his chin resting on the top of her head. His hand caressed her back, and Sansa had to fight to stay awake.

“Sansa, don’t sleep.” He ordered. “You need to pay attention.”

That definitely woke her up. Oh God, was this the moment he was going to say this was a mistake and call her a…

Vortigern cupped her face. “I can see you’re panicking. Stop.” It was ridiculous how one word from him and she was calmer. “Tomorrow you’ll come to my house -let’s say at 3 -then we’ll discuss this.”

“Yes, Mr. Pendragon.” She replied automatically.

He smirked at her again. “Good girl, Miss Stark.”

He was going to be the death of her.

#madame baggio #crackship #CrossOver #Crossover Pairings #modern au #fanfiction #posted on ao3 #game of thrones #king arthur legend of the sword #Sansa Stark #vortigern #Sansa x Vortigern #dont stand so close to me

[tourism-pages-of-colorado]

How to Hockey Skate Like a Pro

Thank you to the players, coaches and parents who submitted their top skating tips in the last couple weeks.

Rhymes, hand signals, games and more all add to the fun while improving skating skills. Read on for a sampling of tips.

Rhyme & Reason

When skating backwards kids have a real tendency to look down at the ice. This inevitably leads to a loss of balance and the player falling. To remind kids to keep their heads up, I’ve learned this little saying that works well:

“Look at your toes, land on your nose!”

The kids recite it and it seems to work.

–Andrew, Coach** **

The ‘Model’ Skate

To emphasize heads-up skating and a proper skating stance with bent knees, along with isolating the legs and thighs for power, I have the kids line up at the goalie line and skate the length of the ice with one of their gloves on their heads! This is very tough to do, but the kids love the challenge and at the same time it is teaching them to keep their head up, knees bent and skate using their lower body. The first person to skate end to end without losing the glove on his or her head wins a pizza! I learned this drill at Heartland Hockey camp from an instructor we call “Hollywood.”

–Jon, Coach

Instant Feedback

Give skaters immediate feedback on the quality of their knee bend while striding. As we all know, developing skaters will occasionally go through spells of skating with their legs far to straight or an exaggerated waist bend. To help correct poor skating posture in a timely manner, coaches and parents can use visual clues for the skater rather than having to stop or slow the skater to a conventional speed.

A hand placed on the head will remind a skater to keep her head level while skating.

Patting the top of the head will clue in the skater that he’s too tall and needs more knee bend.

A hand to the chest will communicate to the skater that he needs to keep a big chest while skating backwards rather than an exaggerated bend at the waist.

Visual clues give immediate feedback to the skater while minimizing down time. There is no stigma attached (like when coaches pull players out of a drill for not doing it correctly) and allows the skater to develop a feel for the correct skating posture as compared to a poor one.

–Brad, Coach

Dryland Matters

I asked my Grandpa, Chuck Grillo, for his best skating advice. The tip is: Ultimately off-ice training is the difference maker. Professional mentors and scouts have known this for years. Once the technique fits your body physiologically, your goal should be to get bigger, quicker, stronger and faster. Technique should be repeated in warm up drills.

This is a simple, but not easy process. Jump, sprint, lift and skate on the same day and you have four different muscle groups, with four different ranges of motion, working and growing together. The end result is a bigger, quicker, stronger, faster skater capable of acquiring all of the agility and mobility skills incorporated in to the drills required for success. This also gives you a psychological advantage on your opponent in life knowing you paid a bigger price to succeed. Injuries sustained during competition heal quicker.

–Monique, Player, Age 11

The Walk-and-Chew-Gum Concept

My son learned early that the most important thing about power skating and hockey is this: To be able to skate with your bottom half and, at the same time, using your upper body to control what happens on the ice. Basically, the walk-and-chew gum concept of hockey. We had to train his bottom half to work differently from his top half. So I had him work with a skating instructor to help him work on this. I see so many hockey players that stop skating when they have the puck, so being able to skate while having the puck increases players enjoyment plus increases goals.

–Jeff, Parent

You Can’t Score If You’re Not on the Ice

I think the most important tip that I learned was that you have to fight through the exhaustion in a game. I learned this from my dad and used this advice in a tournament. There were only two minutes left in the championship game and we were down by one point. We beat the same team the day before, but this day they came back stronger. My line was on the ice. Everyone was exhausted. My team had the puck and was going up the ice. I thought about going to the bench, but then I remembered my dad telling me that even if you’re tired you should fight through the pain. So I skated up the ice with my teammates. One of my teammates passed me the puck, and without having time to think, I scored! The game was tied and we went into overtime. Now, the whole team had energy! A few minutes later, another one of my teammates scored and we won the game! I’m really glad I didn’t take myself out of the game!

–Rachel, Player

**Go For It! **

I learned from my mom and dad to skate hard and extend my stride. It has helped me a lot this year mom, and made me faster and helps when I am trying to outskate someone with the puck and score my team a goal. I told the other kids to try it, too, and it helped us all score lots of goals for the team.

–Wyatt, Age 8

Character Counts

The No. 1 skating tip I learned and taught to my two boys over the years was in Brett Hull’s acceptance speech into the Hockey Hall of Fame: “Have fun playing the game or it isn’t a game anymore. And it doesn’t matter how many goals you score on the ice, it is what you do off the ice that counts.”

–Trent and Tammy, Parents of a PeeWee and Bantam

A ‘Holy Cow’ Moment

I had a “holy cow that’s simple” moment when I was helping with an early bird session for Mites and Squirts. A coach was telling the kids how to do a power turn. He told them to just bend the knee on the side they wanted to turn to and straighten the other leg. It worked for all of them, the first time.

–Steve

**Limbo **

Teach them to do the limbo on ice! Instead of bending over backwards to go under the bar, use the proper stride stance to go under the bar (a pretend bar will do). Then mark it out where they need to do it in a certain number of strides, not too many not too few.

–Kris

Quick Start

My older sister told me that the first three steps make a huge difference in your stop-to-start speed. Those three quick steps can change your game.

–Jenny, Player, Age 13

**Flat Blades **

Keep your blades flat on the ice when performing turns to give better control and maintain your speed. I learned that from Shjon Podein.

–Charlie

Catch an Edge

Analyze and visualize how to get the best use of your edges.

–Mark

#colorado #skating #hockey

[imagine-what-would-happen]

In Charge (Kylo Ren Imagine)

Alright guys, so this is very much a self indulgent piece. I’m not sure if I’m going to write another piece pertaining to this imagine, we’ll see how I feel about it. It’s definetly not done but I’ve had it in my drafts for a few days now and figured I would just post it. Enjoy! (Please be ready for all the grammar and spelling errors)

Words: 1.8k+

Warning: Teasing/ Making fun of (Lightly).

Masterlist

Imagine: You’re the new Supreme Leader and Kylo is meeting you for the first time.

You were pacing in your larger than life throne room. Only days ago you were the right hand to Supreme Leader Snoke. He had taught you everything he knew, shaped you as if from clay into his preferred image. His ship had taken a severe and catastrophic hit, killing the leader near instantaneously. He had always made his wishes clear for you to take over after him. So, here you were.

Although, you had heard that you apparently had stolen the position right out from someone else. One Kylo Ren, if you remembered correctly. Snoke had only taken you under his wing a breezy few years ago, but you were a quick study - thus moving you to such a high ranking position. 

You had heard rumours and only half assed stories about the legendary Ren, yet you never had the pleasure - until now.

You ordered someone to fetch him for you. You knew that Ren was the one Snoke had sent out on all the missions, although recently, it hadn’t seemed to be going well for him. You wanted to know full details about how the attack against the Resistance was going. You also wanted to get a feel for Ren, you were very much an intuitive person. The first meeting meant a lot to you, it then made you even more nervous for everyone else’s first impressions of you.

Your long cape followed behind you, Snoke had the design made for you. He had shaped every single aspect of you until his dying breath. You figured you would wear it for a few weeks and soon shed it, but for now, the golden cape followed you. It was very much a symbolic and physical reminder of Snoke’s hold on you, it looked exactly like the clothes he wore.

One of Snoke’s guards came into the room - your guards now. “Kylo Ren is awaiting for entry, Supreme Leader.”

You simply gave a nod and turned toward your throne, making your way back upon it. You could hear the guard’s steps quiet as he left. Moments later you heard the door swish open, a masked figure standing in the bright elevator.

You raised a brow for a moment but then looked away, pretending not to care, looking bored. You were in fact more then intrigued, but the legendary Ren would not intimidate you here. You were the Supreme Leader now, and you were about to show just how powerful you were. 

The masked figure made his steps meaningful and brisk, obviously wanting to get this over with. From your peripheral vision you saw his approach, his gaze set in your direction the entire time.

You tried to steady your racing heart. This was one of your first interactions as the new Supreme Leader, if you screwed up now, you were doomed to be overthrown by this overgrown child playing dress up. You did find it utterly ridiculous in the brief moments when you didn’t find it terrifying. Not knowing who you’re dealing with, not truly knowing a face... It meant it could be anyone. You needed your intuition to kick in. You needed to see this man for who he was, who he could be. Was he a threat or a potential ally.

Reaching a mere few metres away from the throne, Ren stopped and kneeled. It took you aback for a moment, you had no idea he showed such respect for positions of power. You were so incredibly used to your position being questioned for seemingly appearing out of thin air. You had no idea he would kneel... You took a breath. This either meant he was very smart, or very scared. With an outfit such as his, you doubted he was scared of anything in the entire universe. 

“Kylo Ren, I presume.” You began, a soft and luring voice, “I don’t believe I’ve had the pleasure.” You rose from your seat. It felt right to stand, you didn’t want to be the type of ruler to constantly sit back. You wanted everyone to know how mobile you were, how different from Snoke you would truly be. You held your hands together in front of you, shoulders back, standing tall but not too proud. You didn’t need to show off, you were already in the position of power.

“I ask for your forgiveness, Supreme Leader...”

You rose your brow, froze in place and scoffed. The bastard hadn’t even bothered to learn your name before he walked in. He was neither smart or scared, he was simply stupid. You laughed. “Y/N, love. My name is Y/N.” You walked down from your throne and began circling Kylo Ren, taking him in like prey.

“Are you scared to show yourself, boy?” You teased, gently touching his shoulder with the tips of your fingers. You figured that with his size and demeanour, the two of you were roughly the same age, that didn’t mean you were gonna treat him as such if he acted like a child - not bothering to learn your name, you couldn’t believe it. It was all an act, he had no respect.

“No.” He softly stated, his voice obviously masked through his helmet.

“Then take that foolish mask off.” You made your way to stand in front of the man. “If you will speak to me, then you will stand, look me in the eye, and speak. I want to know who has been dealing with my soldiers with this amount of idiocy.”, you spat.

The man raised himself, as he did, he pulled his helmet off, holding it in one hand to his side. You saw his dark locks bounce freely, his soft skin come into the light, inch by inch. You took him in. He was beautiful. “Hmmph” was the only sound you made as you saw him. “Better.” You smiled almost softly now. There was something about this man... You couldn’t place the feeling.

He looked onto you with sad eyes. “Come now, tell me what the plan is,” You pushed, his eyes were too sad, full of self doubt, no wonder Snoke had chosen you over him.

You sat on the steps to the throne, making yourself more comfortable. You felt you had asserted more than enough dominance for one day.

He cleared his throat. “The Resistance. They’re running low on fuel. We’ve managed to get our hands on new tracking technology.” He stated, at first softly but then, gradually, it turned proud. 

You couldn’t help the soft smile on his face. Position of power looked good on him, he really needed to have more faith in himself. You nodded, watching him. “Very well, so it’s only a matter of time. Alright, I want you to scramble all of their transmissions. I don’t want any surprises. We’ve got them cornered. Let’s keep it that way.”

Kylo nodded swiftly.

You noticed the prominent scar across his face, deciding not to question him about it, you rose, examining him under a suspectful eye. “Please tell me why I shouldn’t just replace you, Kylo Ren.” You slurred his name on purpose, mocking him.

His brow rose, his eyes meeting yours, “You can’t replace me.” He stated proudly but also disgusted at the idea.”I am Kylo Ren!” He took a step further and your guards became alive, stepping up with their weapons.

You lifted a hand to stop them.

“And?” You smirked, acting as if it meant nothing.

He moved closer to you now, towering over you, “I have raw, untamed power.” He whispered to you, almost teasingly, into your ear.

You looked up to him, “Kylo...” You whispered, meeting his eyes.

“Yes?” He came closer, whispering all the same. You could see, he thought he got you, could intimidate you.

“Stop quoting Snoke to me.” You stated abruptly, “Quite frankly, it’s a turn off and I’ve heard everything he has ever had to say.” You smirked and walked past Ren.

“I know you are a Jedi.” You turned back to face him from several feet away.

“Theres plenty of Jedi in the galaxy! What can you give The First Order?” You stalked back towards him, “What can you, give me?” You whispered teasingly.

His expression was a storm of several different emotions, and you loved it. You enjoyed keeping him on his toes.

“What do you want?” He watched you move about the large room.

You felt his eyes on you at all times, they would not leave. “I want this war to be over. I want the Resistance to be gone. This fight has been going on for far too long, its about time it ends. Can you make that happen?”

“Yes.”

“Then do it.” You sat back on your throne, “Do not disappoint me, Kylo, or there will be consequences.” Your eyes locked on his as he simply nodded then made his way out of the room.

Once the door closed behind him, you immediately let yourself slouch, relaxing - letting out a breath. You thought it would never end. “Leave me” You uttered to the guards, “Now!” You stated harshly. 

Soon you were alone. You stood, shedding the cape to remind you of Snoke and you walked about freely. Biting your lip, you sneaked out through a side exit that was unknown to most everyone aboard. Once the door closed behind you, you pulled out a small flashlight and began walking through the small corridor. You felt safest here. You were not quite sure why Snoke showed you this corridor, at first you thought it was for safety but with the amount of protection aboard the ship, you knew no one could ever get through. Your questions of why this corridor was revealed to you never stopped you from entering it.

There was an opening in the corridor, a room - still small, but just enough to stretch out and sit, you kept your most precious items here. Sitting in the corner you reached over to a shirt on the ground, it was the one you wore the day you were brought aboard the Supremacy. Snoke had seen your arrest as he was making his way to the throne room. He got you released and took you under his wing. He never told you why.

The nice thing about this room was that it stretched next to the intersection of a few main hallways, you got to hear chatter you usually wouldn’t. This was the only way you got to feel that you weren’t alone. You would hear gossip, people’s opinions about Snoke, the Resistance - anything that was the topic of discussion at the time. It was amazing what people would say when they thought they weren’t being listened to.

Your eyes began feeling heavy, before you knew it, you were dreaming.

#kylo ren #snoke #the supremacy #supreme leader snoke #the dark side #kylo ren imagine #kylo ren fandom #kylo ren trash #star wars #sequel trilogy

[iamartemisday]

Pepperony Week Day One- 5+1 Things

A/N: So I posted this last night, but I was informed that one of my tags wasn’t spelled correctly. Somehow, in my attempts to fix it, I managed to erase the entire post. That’s what I get for trying to fix it on mobile. >>

So here we go one more time. Hope you enjoy!

**

5 times Tony didn't realize he was in love with Pepper, and 1 time he did.

When Tony made a random low-level administrative assistant his new PA, it was mostly for the novelty.

Here was a woman confident enough to break into his office and tell him to his face that he was wrong. Observant enough to catch a mistake not even he, the guy who built a working robot before his balls dropped, had spotted.

Plus, she was a former model. In magazines and everything. Whoever said models were dumb could go eat their ignorant words with some ketchup on top.

Virginia Potts, newly baptized as Pepper, spent her first day on the job familiarizing herself with her new responsibilities, organizing the photos on her desk, and signing a truly immense amount of paperwork. Seriously, Tony had to talk to Obidiah about switching to digital. What kind of futurist was he killing all those defenseless trees?

Given his track record with PAs, he expected Ms. Potts to last a month, maybe two. Not a crack against her, but he was a handful and he knew it. When she inevitably quit, he'd have a generous severance package and a glowing reference ready for her. Now it was just a matter of how long before his partying, all-night science binges, and frequent overnight guests of the female variety wore her down.

Three months later, she was in his office while he slept off a hangover, notes in hand as she briefed him on the upcoming board meeting.

"Mr. Daniels in HR needs to talk to you about calculating this year's Christmas bonuses. Mrs. Prowitt in accounting just had a baby and you need to send out your personal congratulations-"

"Potts…"

"You still have paperwork to sign for the merger with Rushcorp-"

"Potts, please…"

"And R&D has taken issue with the blueprints you gave them for the new missile prototype. They're saying the flight system isn't feasible with our current technology. You might want to have a word with them."

"Potts! I'm dying!"

He struggled to lift his head and look into her eyes with all the pain in his formerly inebriated soul. As usual, she was unsympathetic.

"This is why I told you not to go out partying on a Tuesday night," she said.

"As if you never partied on a Tuesday."

"No, Mr. Stark, I didn't. I waited for the weekend." She started for the door. "I'll get you some water and ginger ale. You'll be ready to go by noon."

"I could also not go."

"That's true, but you will" Her phone rang and she ignored Tony's moaning to answer it. "Hello? Oh, yes Mr. Daniels, I was just about to call you… yes, he will be ready in time for the meeting. I just confirmed it with him."

She left and Tony whimpered in agony. This must be what abandoned kittens on the side of the road felt like.

"I thought I hired an assistant," he mumbled. "Instead I got a new mom."

He almost immediately cringed at the idea. Potts was not at all like his mother. She wasn't even a really strict big sister.

No, she was something else. Something he couldn't pinpoint.

Boy, did he hate not knowing the answer.

**

"Potts, we should go out sometime."

Surprisingly, he wasn't drunk. In fact, he'd been sober for the last six days while they negotiated a contract with a new satellite company. That was a personal best for him and he deserved some recognition, dammit.

"We are out," she said, and indeed they were in the lounge at the Plaza hotel waiting for their drinks to arrive.

"I mean on a date," Tony said. "You know, with dinner and dancing and no business deals. Just the two of us."

Pepper sighed like this wasn't the first time he'd asked. And, to be fair, it wasn't. "Mr. Stark, you know why we can't date."

"Do I? Remind me real quick."

She rolled her eyes. "First of all, it's against company policy. Even if I didn't work directly under you, we're still in the same department and fraternization among employees never works out well. Second, dating your PA would reflect badly on us with the press. Finally, maintaining a professional environment in the workplace is crucial to overall productivity and good financial health."

Tony whistled. "Lot of big words there. You've done your homework, Potts."

"I have to," she said, but couldn't hide a slight smile. "If I don't, who will?"

"Good point." Tony leaned back with his hands under his hand. "It's funny, though. I didn't hear anything in there about you not wanting to date me."

Pepper opened her mouth, but none of her pre-established responses to his flirting came forth. Instead, she blushed heavily and turned away to tap on her phone.

Tony chuckled to himself. She was kind of cute when she was flustered.

Not that she wasn't always cute, but…

**

Even though Pepper wouldn't date him (and all jokes aside he did begrudgingly see her point), that didn't mean she wouldn't date at all.

Five years had passed since the pepper spray incident. There had been a few guys in that time, or so he assumed. He was too busy keeping track of his own one night stands to pay attention to Pepper's.

One day, out of the blue, she asked to leave work two hours early. The last time she did that was three years ago.

"Hitting the town, Potts?" He meant it as a joke, but also not. Tony wasn't a genius for nothing and he'd noticed the changes in her make-up and the unfamiliar perfume lingering in the air.

Pepper cleared her throat. "As a matter of fact, yes. I'm going on a date tonight and I need to get my hair done."

He wanted to say her hair was perfect the way it was because it was perfect and whoever this guy was probably didn't even notice. He also wanted to say he needed her to stay late because they had some extra paperwork to go through. Surely he had something buried in one of his desk drawers for her to look at.

"Oh, that's nice," he said, leaning back in his big plush chair. "Didn't know you were seeing someone."

"We're casual at the moment."

"Just looking for a midnight ride, huh?"

Pepper glared at him, but it wasn't her offended face. More like her 'I think you're funny but I'm not going to say it because that will just fuel your ego so I'm going to pretend to be offended' face. He'd become an expert in differentiating between the two.

"I'll be sure to have all my tasks done before I leave," she said.

"As if you need to tell me," Tony snorted. He read some papers while Pepper went to her office. Fifteen minutes later, he was still on the same paragraph and needed to stretch his legs. "So… what's his name?"

Pepper glanced at him, then went back to typing. "Craig."

Craig and Pepper… Crepper?

God no...

"What's he do?" Tony fought to keep his posture loose. "Let me guess. He's a genius billionaire in charge of his own company-"

"He's an investment banker."

"Fun. Where are you going?"

"To dinner and maybe a movie."

"You know what you're going to see?"

"We'll decide when we get there." The intercom beeped and Pepper pressed the button to silence it. "Looks like your two-thirty is here."

Tony barely paid attention during his appointment with… whoever this guy was. Something something missile guidance revamping something. His eyes always trailed back to Pepper behind a wall of glass. When she left for the night, he hung around for half an hour before going home. It was just too quiet without her.

A few months later, Pepper asked for another early day.

"Sure thing," Tony said, chewing on his bottom lip. "Got a hot date with Craig?"

"No, just dinner with my parents. It's my mom's birthday tomorrow," she explained. "Actually, Craig and I decided to just be friends. I think he's seeing someone else now."

"Oh, I'm sorry to hear that."

Tony tried his best not to grin as he said it, but he was grinning for the whole rest of the day.

**

After Tony completed renovations of his Malibu home, he started doing more work from home. This meant Pepper had to come over more often than not. Aside from a requisite 'want to see the master bedroom' quip, Tony had allowed her space in his massive home. She had an office and a guest room complete with a private balcony for when she wanted to work outside.

Being as she was, most of their private time centered around business. Making deals, planning meetings, arranging his schedule, and lots of other fun and exciting activities. On weekdays, she arrived promptly in the morning and left before sundown. Unless it was quarterly report time or they were on the verge of closing a huge deal, she never deviated from this schedule.

So it was strange when he left the basement one night at midnight after five hours working on his new convertible to find Pepper asleep on the couch.

Her tablet and some papers were on the floor where she'd dropped them. One arm was tucked under her head, no pillows in sight. She'd taken her shoes off, and while Tony was no foot fetishist, her new pedicure was lovely.

She sighed and shifted in her sleep as Tony gently squeezed a throw pillow under her head and draped a blanket over her. He would've carried her to the guest room, but Pepper was typically a light sleeper and putting her in an awkward position might mean she wouldn't come over as much.

He gathered her things and stacked them neatly on the coffee table. Hopefully, those pages were in the correct order, but if they weren't, she'd have them right in under a second.

Tony stepped back to watch her chest rise and fall. Her face was so peaceful. Not like the cool serenity she used to calmly destroy brown-nosing idiots at meetings. It was like he was finally seeing Pepper in her natural state of being.

He liked it.

But of course, he liked it. He liked her.

And maybe he shouldn't be staring at her while she slept. That was kind of creepy.

**

He was never going to see Pepper again.

'No,' he told himself, 'don't do that. Stay positive. Stay positive.'

The problem with staying positive is that it's hard to do when you're running through the desert with no food or water and you've just escaped captivity and watched the man you spent three months forming an emotional bond with die before your eyes.

Suffice to say, this was not Tony's day.

He'd only briefly considered what would happen if the escape was successful. Best case scenario, he got himself and Yinsen out and they found a village less than a mile away with friendly locals who had food and a satellite phone handy. With both of those things now off the table, Tony stumbled through the sand, careful not to run too fast and waste energy. If he had to guess, the temperature was roughly a thousand degrees Fahrenheit. He'd probably sweated another five pounds off.

The one good thing about being lost in the desert was it gave him time to think. About all his mistakes and all his missteps. All the things he never realized he should've done.

He should've told Rhodey how much their friendship meant to him. Tony had been a pain in his ass since college and yet Rhodes never abandoned him.

He should've told his father he loved him. Twenty years he spent ignoring and pushing away that one simple truth, and now he couldn't avoid it. Howard Stark was an asshole, but so was Tony Stark. Like father, like son as they say.

He should've told Pepper… God, the things he should've told Pepper. Listing them would kill hours of time while the elements slowly killed him. He should've told her how important she was, not just to Stark Industries, but to him. How much he appreciated everything she did for him. How happy he was to see her every morning. How thankful he was that she didn't quit after two months and take that severance package. How much better she deserved than to be in his shadow. How much he truly cared about her from the bottom of his heart.

How much he…

God, this heat was unbearable. Couldn't even think straight.

When he saw her again after hours in an air-conditioned plane, being fed jello packets and wanting nothing more than a hunk of real meat, none of what he should've said came to mind.

"Your eyes are red. A few tears for your long lost boss?"

It would have to do.

**

It should've been another quiet post-return evening in.

Tony didn't feel like flying that night, otherwise, he'd be out on the town already. The plan was to watch cheesy sci-fi movies and laugh at all the mistakes until he fell asleep. Now he was trapped in his own body, eyes unable to close, mouth unable to open. He stared up at a monster wearing a familiar face as he literally ripped his heart out.

"Oh Tony, this is your ninth symphony," Obidiah said, among other bullshit villain monologue crap Tony couldn't hear over his own internal screaming. "This is your legacy. A new generation of weapons with this at its heart."

'Fuck you,' Tony wanted so badly to say. 'Fuck you, you lying son of a bitch. Fuck you fuck you fuck you-'

"Too bad you had to involve Pepper in this. I would've preferred that she'd live."

Someone once said there were five or six profound moments in everyone's life. Tony didn't know who that someone was or if he didn't just make that whole thing up in his head. Whatever the case, this was one of those moments.

Never before had he wanted so badly to kill someone. Not just kill them, but make them suffer the worst sort of torment. He wanted to rip Stane apart with his bare hands, destroy him from the inside out. Make him regret even thinking about threatening Pepper.

He focused all his strength on his legs, making his toes wiggle. The ringing in his ears was fading, but not fast enough.

'You can do this,' said the voice of Pepper in his ears. 'You can do this.'

His fingers twitched and he slowly clenched a fist.

He wouldn't lose one more person he loved.

#Pepperony #pepperony week #pepperonyweek19 #Tony Stark #Pepper Potts #5+1 Things

[awed-frog]

Angst and Feels (Why Fanfiction Matters)

I used to be normal. By which I mean: by the time I was in college, I no longer read children’s books, or even YA. I was too busy, for one thing - I’d spend hours in the library, sometimes cursing at the impossibly difficult stuff I’d been asked to do, but mostly relishing all the new, inspiring things I had the privilege to learn. I was reading about witches, about the use of colours on Greek vases. About Virginia Woolf.

My English, though, wasn’t good enough. Having taken Latin in high school, I knew what a hexameter was but I would define it as a ‘six foots meter’. In the end, one of my professors, mildly exasperated by it all, told me I needed to read more; much more. He suggested YA books, and, since I’d read most classic novels as a child (in translation), I bought a battered second-hand copy of Harry Potter and the Philosopher’s Stone. It was 2002. The books had been out for five years, but I knew next to nothing about them.

And, well, it wasn’t always easy to keep up with JK Rowling’s funny, inventive prose, but two days later I stepped through the doors of our English bookstore and bought the other three novels. I’ve been addicted ever since.

But the thing is - I didn’t connect with other fans in any way. Back then (in my country), the internet was still an unfocused, unclear thing. If I remember correctly, I didn’t even have an email address until 2003. Not a proper one, I mean. Not something I used to actually communicate. And there was no one I could discuss Harry Potter with. Ah, is that a children’s book? people would say, and that would be the end of it.

I kept reading the series, though, and when the waiting got too difficult, I gave the internet a second chance. I discovered fanfiction, and that was the beginning of the end.

(No more normal for me. Gone. All gone.)

Because, in the end, we are social, creative animals. Shared stories, like shared memories, bond us together more closely and firmly than anything else ever will.

When Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows finally came out, I happened to be back in my small town for the summer, and I went out at midnight to buy it. It was unheard of - a miracle - that our local bookseller had decided to take part in this crazy initiative, and I didn’t expect anyone to actually be there. Instead, well, some people were. Not many, but it didn’t matter. We were a small crowd of mostly adult readers, some trying to pretend they were passing there by chance, others wearing wizard hats or capes. One girl had a homemade piece of jewelry shaped like the Deathly Hallows symbol. It shone on her chest as she waited for the bookstore to open, silent and somewhat fearful.

I knew exactly how she felt. I was terrified. I didn’t want the series to be over. I was afraid I wouldn’t like the end. I was fearing, most of all, that someone would spoil it for me.

(I had been waiting so long.)

In order to prevent that, I had hatched a detailed, careful, crazy plan: I would go into the mountains, alone, walking from hut to hut and stopping in isolated meadows to read the book in complete solitude. I had given myself two days to finish it, and I had no doubt I would. I am a fast reader, and I’d been craving this one story for two years.

My parents told me I was insane, but it didn’t matter. I went ahead - the book was heavy, so I only packed a few other things - a parka, raisins, a water bottle and an extra pair of socks - added a small notebook on top, and the map, and my clunky mobile phone (turned off), and I left.

I have vague memories of those two days. I barely noticed the landscape around me, because, somehow, it filtered into the one from the novel. It slid in and out of focus, unseen, unremembered.

(A place I’d known since childhood, now invisible around me.)

Like Harry, Ron and Hermione, I walked around in the wilderness, oblivious to both its dangers and its beauty. I was tormented by their doubts and fears; I was hounded by Death Eaters; I was hungry and unhappy. I once hurried through the rain, my mind a thousand miles away, and, as soon as it stopped, I spread out my parka on the unfriendly grass (all sharp with rocks and thistles) and I started reading again, my wet hair slowly dripping on the pages.

I remember very well, however, that by the time I arrived to my second (and final) hut, I hadn’t finished. I was planning to read through the night, but I was still wary of spoilers (and I was right to be: I discovered afterwards our local medias had mentioned it all - Harry’s death; Harry’s resurrection - on that very same day), which is why I kept to myself - a practice much frowned upon in such places. I barely nodded at the friendly-looking couple sitting in front of me for dinner, and I ignored the little family chatting behind us. And, at night, I sat up in my bed (it was too cold to stay in the common room downstairs), turned on my flashlight, and started reading again.

Thinking about it now, it was like the end of childhood all over again: this secret, solitary reading, way past my bedtime, in a room I shared with two other people (strangers).

I was wearing every piece of clothing I had, because it was still bloody cold, but it didn’t matter at all.

(So tired, and yet unable to stop reading. The words flickering a bit in the bluish light.)

And then Snape died.

And I started crying.

I couldn’t help myself. I couldn’t stop. He’d been my favourite character, and, having discovered the books as a grown-up, I’d never seen him as the overbearing, nasty teacher; from the start, I’d been drawn in by his lights and shadows; by the damage which had so clearly been inflicted on a clever, unforgiving man (someone who could have been so much more; someone who, in other circumstances, could have been loved, deeply and unreservedly). I’d been hoping against hope he’d turn out to be Good. And here, spelled out by writing, the most magical of all human inventions, here was everything I’d been wishing for - a compelling, heartbreaking backstory; murder; redemption.

I tried to be silent, but you can’t really cry silently, not like this; not with the kind of sorrow which grips you tight inside and shakes you around like a ragdoll until there’s nothing left of you at all.

I finished the book. I slept about two hours. And when I went down for breakfast (thick bread slices with homemade wild blueberries jam and that generic fruit tea, way too sugary, they always offer you up there) I wasn’t looking at anyone, or seeing anything. I was completely empty; lost inside my own head. Happy and sad and terribly lonely, because this story I’d loved so much was now over.

And then the woman in front of me - someone my own age, perhaps a bit older, who was there with her husband - I’d shared the dorm with them the night before - put her hand very near mine on the table (you do not touch strangers here: it is not done).

“Was it good?” she whispered, and I looked up at her. I was so out of it, I didn’t even realize what she was talking about.

“I saw you with the book last night,” she added, and then did this sort of thing which was on my face as well, this half smile, half frown. “I heard you cry.”

I shook my head. I didn’t know what to say.

“Don’t tell me anything. Just - is it good?”

“It’s very good,” I whispered back, my eyes falling down to the table; idly following the knot in the wood which looked a bit like a Cheshire cat.

“Oh God,” she cursed, or prayed, softly, and this time she closed her fingers around my wrist, and I started crying again.

The thing is, I’ve always felt books too deep and too raw. I was that kid who would forget the world around her, wouldn’t hear her mum calling for dinner, wouldn’t go to bed in the evening.

You know the kind. The One more page child. The Let me just finish the chapter child.

What I’d never known, though, was the joy of talking about these stories with someone else.

There was no one else.

Some of my friends read, but not like this; not compulsively. Also, they didn’t care - they wouldn’t cry for a fictional person. They wouldn’t smile all day because someone’s quest had succeeded. They never got upset.

(How?)

And the adults - well, of course they encouraged me; they praised me. But it was still a lonely way to grow up.

(I didn’t mind.)

(I never minded.)

(It’s never just a story, though, is it?)

With Harry Potter, that changed. I’d always written fiction into my own head - I mean: some stories I wrote down (my own), but other stories I just dreamed about (little me, with her courage and fears and that one t-shirt with a horse on it, stepping into all these worlds; making friends with those characters; taking part in their adventures). I never wrote them down, because I could feel they weren’t my stories, not really. They belonged to the real writers; to the people who’d first written them down - Dumas and Ende and Tolkien and Wilde and all those other people. I had no right to -

And then, in my twenties, I discovered that I had the right. Sort of. That other people lay awake at night trying to put it together - why did Snape kill Dumbledore? Is it possible that - or maybe? That it was even allowed, in fact, to discuss these things with each other and be taken seriously. Even more incredibly, it was possible to write stories about it. What would happen to Draco next? What if Hermione got hold of a Time-Turner again? And what about the Marauders and the Seventies - is it possible to change the future by changing the past?

Yes, this is the first reason why I love fanfiction, and why I’m grateful to those invisible writers whose names I never knew - adults and teens and office workers and teachers and stay-at-home mums, all living their (to me) invisible lives, and yet speaking, somehow, directly to my heart and soul. Because they made me feel like it was okay to be like this - to love this so very much.

Something else I’m grateful to fanfiction for, though, is its gentle sneakiness; its joyous underhandedness. It draws you in, doesn’t it, because it seems safe and easy. This is why people sneer at it, after all - because you’re not creating anything. Allegedly. And, well, it is a kind of safety net, isn’t it? I’m just playing with these characters, we used to say; I’m putting them back when I’m done.

(As if we could. As if writing about someone doesn’t make them real to you. As if we didn’t know the truth of it - that you can’t write about people and then put them back, because now you’ve bled all over them, and they are, in a way, yours forever; the good and the bad.)

The reality of it is rather different.

Sure, you do start with a story already written; with fully-fledged characters.

But you don’t know everything, do you? We haven’t seen Dean Winchester’s first day of school. We don’t know what Ron Weasley thought when he walked into a Tesco for the very first time (did he? he must have, at some point). We don’t know if Neal and Peter ever saw each other again. What Mary (Watson) was like as a child.

And yet - yet we are bound by everything else we do know. If we want to write canon fanfiction, which, for many of us, is the goal, we have to be mindful of this.

(We look at how they move - Mary’s secret smile, Dean’s slightly uneven gait. We know what they are like when they’re alone - Neal: dissatisfied, Peter: warily content. We try and mimic the way they do their homework - Ron’s careless spelling; his glib, hasty essays.)

And it is difficult and painful and frustrating, but it is also - I think - the best thing that can happen to you as a writer, because I am starting to realize that a story always has invisible walls (stuff that just can’t happen, no matter how much you wish for it to). It’s these walls, and not the rooms inbetween them, which make a story great. The things you can’t write about. The dialogues that will never happen. The characters who’ll never meet. Your story is right there: in the silences. It stretches into the distance, unseeable, undefined, like that strip of land which is not beach and not sea. A puzzle and a challenge.

(Why is this interesting? Why do we care so much?)

It is not easy to see these walls when you’re writing your own story (not fanfiction, that is: fiction), and it’s very tempting, when you do see them, to just tear them down.

(It's your story, after all.)

Fanfiction teaches you not to.

(Sure, we have the extreme AUs and the There I fixed it things, but, personally, it’s the other things I like. The ones where nobody says anything and yet everybody understands. Cas putting a hand on Dean’s shoulder. John looking at Sherlock, then away. The Always. things.)

When you’re writing codas, you can’t ignore what happened in the episode, no matter how painful. When you’re filling a fanfiction gap, you must be mindful of what comes next.

And the walls (these walls you hate and push against until your nails are bloody and your head aches) do make the story more interesting. What Maisie Knew would be a rather dull novel if it were written from the point of view of Maisie’s father. So would To Kill a Mockingbird. And what about Of Mice and Men? A Clockwork Orange? Good novels are built on ordinary stories which are made extraordinary because of the way they are written - just like we are, all of us, living ordinary lives which have been lived a thousand times before, and it is our own hearts and souls and our vision of the world around us which make them extraordinary and new and worth living again. Most novels would simply collapse without this gift writers have - to see the beauty and magic (the heartbreak and the tragedy) in things which are completely, utterly normal.

And writers see other things, as well.

Because, well, I’d thought I wanted a meaningful conversation between Snape and Harry - a lengthy and detailed explanation of everything that had been going on between them. I’d thought I deserved it, after everything. That I had a right to it, even.

What I got were three words (Look...at...me.) - a shared look and a whisper - and God, I’d been so wrong. I’d thought I’d known everything - I knew nothing. Fairness was not the issue - life's not fair - this was sheer poetry, right there. It was, in a remarkably I can’t breathe right now kind of way, everything I’d ever wanted, and more. I hadn’t known I wanted it like that, but JK Rowling had known. She’d known my heart better than I knew it myself, and that is the mark of true writer.

(And there are true writers both in fiction and in fanfiction.)

But, some people may object, what about the porn?

What about it?

Well, it must be said out loud. If normal people (not us; no longer, and not perhaps, ever) have heard of fanfiction at all, they tend to dismiss it as porn, and, indeed, Rule 34 blooms and thrives in our archives as well.

On the other hand, why should this be a bad thing? Who decided (well: we know who; and we also know why) that sex should be shameful? That sexual desire should be secret, and sexual preferences undisclosed and undiscussed? Why is the relationship between a man and a woman, even a relationship which is unloving or abusive or downright unreal, something we’re allowed to have access to, while an MPreg between the Giant Squid and the Archangel Gabriel is not?

(Why is the first one a right of passage and a standard for our real life relationships and something which generates billions of dollars of profit and the second one not normal and never bookmarked and tagged as Seriously, This is Filth, You’ve Been Warned, I Need Jesus?)

Greek mythology is built upon such things, after all, and it blossomed into one of the most astounding periods of human history - fifth-century Athens - a place where, in the space of few short years, Plato and Aristotle and Euripides and Alcibiades worked and lived side by side. A perfect storm of culture and art and beautifully orchestrated politics which still defines most of what we are today.

And yet, look at Theseus’ love life.

(This most great Athenian hero, lord of the sea, destroyer of monsters.)

Theseus/Helen (M/F, Mature, Underage, Non-Con, Kidnapping, Heavy Petting, Fingering, This Is So Sick, I Can’t Believe I’m Writing This); Theseus/Ariadne (M/F, Mature, Dubcon, Kidnapping, First Kiss, First Time, Happy Ending, Sort Of); Theseus/Hippolyta (M/F, Explicit, Enemies-to-Lovers, Dom/Sub, Murder, Major Character Death); Theseus/Phaedra, Phaedra/Hippolytus (M/F, Explicit, Slightly Underage, Major Character Death, Non-Con, Dubcon, Incest If You Squint, Murder By Proxy, Suicide, They’re All Kind Of Assholes, And It’s Great, No Happy Ending, Seriously Don’t Read This If You Like Happy Endings).

Look at Achilles’.

(Oh, Achilles. I have loved you so very much, and I do love you still.)

Achilles/Patroclus (M/M, Teen And Up, Angst And Feels, Topping From The Bottom, Established Relationship, SO MUCH PAIN); Achilles/Penthesilea (M/F, Explicit, Major Character Death, Dubcon, First Kiss, Enemies-to-Lovers, Necrophilia, Blood-Soaked Pagan Manpain, Can You Spoil The End Of A Series That’s Been Finished For Two Decades?).

And, of course, we have to mention the gods.

Zeus, for instance.

Zeus/Leda (M/F, Explicit, Zoophilia, Non-Con, I Actually Watched Videos Of Swans Mating For This, Author Is Sleep-Deprived); Zeus/Alcmene (M/F/M, Sort Of, Explicit, Dubcon, Issues Of Consent, Theological Stuff, T Is For Trash, Frustratingly Vague Magical Realism); Zeus/Ganymede (M/M, M/F, Mature, Underage, Dubcon, Zeus Is An Eagle But They Have Sex As Humans, Mentions Of Slavery, Light Dom/Sub Play); Zeus/Semele (M/F, Mature, Canon-Typical Violence, Major Character Death, MPreg, Loads of Angst, Like Wow); Zeus/Other (I’m So Sorry He’s Gonna Fuck Everyone At Some Point).

(Those were actual AO3 tags, by the way, and also perfectly adequate summaries for most of the classical literature we know. I mean, don’t get me started on Apuleius’ Metamorphoses.)

If people want to write PWP because they want to, er, have fun and, er, make other people happy, I say let them. They’re not hurting anyone. They’re also taking back control from more traditional sources of, er, joy.

(Things whose goal is to generate money; things which tend to perpetuate the status quo and enforce it, and which are not, therefore, art. Things we need to take control back from, because we’ll never be rid of them and everybody masturbates and it’s a joyous and relaxing activity and it’s time we talked about it.)

But from what I see in the community - sure, the PWP is appreciated after a long day at the office, and it’s fun (and oh so challenging) to write (those published authors who keep getting Bad Sex awards should have a look at AO3 and see how it’s done), but what keeps people coming back is what will always keep people coming back: everything else.

The painful, heartwrenching, slow-burn stories.

The case stories; the adventure stories.

The what if AUs.

The My life is so unbearable right now, please give me something else to think about stories.

The idea that books can save your life is not new - I loved Arabian Nights, but it was another novel, Fred Uhlman’s Beneath the Lightning and the Moon, which really did it for me - the idea, brought forward by this German Jew writer who’d witnessed three wars, that (when all’s said and done) everything we are is just that - stories. That’s what keeps us from going mad - the stories we tell each other. The stories we tell ourselves.

And this is what will be remembered after we pass away.

We’re all stories, in the end.

(Just make it a good one, eh?)

And the other reason I am grateful to fanfiction and I love fanfiction and I will defend it to the death - well, that’s way more political.

In the years since that day in the mountains, I’ve kept reading and writing and studying. I am now a fanfiction writer myself. I’ve also been strongly encouraged - even ordered, one would say - to keep up with the news obsessively, because of my job (I am an interpreter). Which I do. For the same reason, I listen to a variety of things - political debates, scientific conferences, TED talks, podcasts about anything and everything. And, well, what is happening in the world isn’t - mostly - very encouraging. More people fleeing their homes. More people fighting. More people burning down trees and keeping employees into unhealthy factories and forcing livestock into pitiful conditions so the rest of us can thrive in gilded abundance.

One thing, though, gives me hope; one thing I’m awed by.

Three in four people can now read and write. Two in four are connected to the internet. Two in five speak English (which, I should specify, isn’t per se a sign of advancing civilization, but still means we have an eye-watering widespread lingua franca).

Which means that for the first time in the whole of human history, we can communicate with each other, and we can do it instantly. We can share opinions and photos and feelings. Everywhere, anytime, with anyone.

(Almost.)

And we are (perhaps too slowly; perhaps not enough) taking control of how information is spread. Of which information is spread.

People were wary of online content in the beginning (I remember this well; I was one of them); they (we) feared that anyone could say anything. That it would become more difficult to tell apart fact from fiction.

(We scoffed at the idea of an open source, user-generated encyclopedia; and look at us now.)

And, yes, it’s not perfect. There are quack bloggers and fake things all over the internet; propaganda and paranoia and scams. Then again, it was never perfect. Humans are peculiar creatures. We feed on wishful thinking and lies. This will never, I think, change. The internet has little to do with it.

But, on the other hand, the internet is also exposing lies. It’s making it more difficult for governments to hide things, and for a handful of media (of rich people) to control what we know about an event - because there’s always someone else there. There will always be at least one other person there - on the site of an explosion, in the middle of a political rally, in a city under siege - someone who will tweet or facebook share what is actually going on. What blew me away, for instance, is what happened recently at the COP21 in Paris: there was one very important meeting the press hadn’t been given permission to attend, and two random students from New Zealand - who were there as representatives of some youth movement - live-blogged the entire thing, including personal comments, memes and reactions gifs, through a Google document.

Hashtag Imagine Yalta, one could say.

And, well, I think fanfiction plays a role in all this.

Now, I’m not a fanfiction expert of any description, and I’m not a researcher - I’ve only seen this happening because I got obsessed with Supernatural and I started poking here and there on the internet - I write stories about the show, and the occasional meta, but I also love to read other people’s analyses, which means I lurk around on tumblr - and I have the feeling something special is unfolding. We are slowly learning to reject a system based on privilege and competition and I paid for my knowledge, go get your own to embrace a more egalitarian, inspiring model; a Here is what I know, because this my area of expertise, please enjoy and leave a comment and tell me something I don’t know in exchange. I read metas about the use of colours and props and lighting. I read an AU Destiel story where they are both actors which had footnotes - footnotes - explaining how the job works. I learned about botany and the American school system and classical music. I stumbled upon a blog for writers where you could just ask, One of my characters is an African-American girl who grew up in Detroit in the 1990s. Anyone here knows what that was like? - and someone would answer, share tiny details of their own life so someone else’s words would ring more true.

What’s happening is, we’re taking back our content. We’re saying, creating stories isn’t the prerogative of big corporations. It’s about people sitting in a circle and weaving magic for each other. For free. Because it gives us joy and sorrow, and we need them both (so much).

And, perhaps even more importantly, by analysing books and movies and shows and animes and mangas so very carefully, by writing (and reading) stories about them, I feel we are learning to think more clearly. We are seeing what works and what doesn’t in a story. We are training each other to read and understand subtext. Those of us who were lucky enough to have great teachers - people who taught us how to see the box, and how to think outside it - are encouraging others to go beyond the standard I liked it, I hate it, I meh. To ask why. And - even - to ask cui bono.

Because this is, the way I see it, the beating heart of everything. Our societies are built and maintained by stories. The best storytellers control it all. It’s that simple.

Money is, perhaps, the most successful of those stories - the idea that paper money, or even coins, are worth anything at all, is the pinnacle of human storytelling. A miracle of fiction.

And also politics, of course. Now, there are other factors which come into play here - most notably, this indefinable like/dislike thing we have around people, that feeling we all have instinctively (which has to do, perhaps, with smell or symmetry or some hormonal madness); this thing perhaps best expressed by the Would you buy a used car from this man? phenomenon. It’s messy and complicated and very often a gut feeling we should or shouldn’t trust.

I’m not saying that words are everything.

On the other hand, there is more to words than we know. Recent research has shown, for instance, a clear link between hexameters and an area of the brain which usually lights up around addictive foods and drugs. As far as I understand it, what they did was read epic poetry to people - the language didn’t even matter - they read Homer, in Greek, to people who’d never heard the language before - and this thing, the simple alternation between long and short syllable in a precise, well-structured way - our brains react to that. Our brains say, Like. Our brains say, More.

Good writers, and good politicians, never needed the study to be carried out. They knew about it already. If you analyse advertisements and novels and political propaganda and speeches, you’ll find plenty of hexameters.

But the idea that not only they sound nice, but that they actually prey on your brain - they touch you in a way you are not aware of being touched - that’s powerful stuff.

Language is powerful stuff.

(It runs the world.)

And, in my opinion, reading and writing is the best way to make it ours; to understand it better, so it cannot be used against us.

This is why places like AO3 are not only entertaining - they are revolutionary. They represent a community of tens of thousands of people coming together and changing the world in the only way we truly can change the world: by changing ourselves first. By making ourselves better, smarter, more aware.

So hold your heads up. Keep caring about stories, keep writing and reading them all (even the coffeeshop AUs; even the tentacle porn). Be bold. Be joyous. Be free.

And thank you, for everything.

[If you’re curious about my fics, here is my AO3 page. Hi!]

#fanfiction #spn fanfiction #hp #hp fanfiction #fanfic #international fanworks day #fiction matters #long post #if you like this post #please reblog it :)

[doctorslippery]

Time for a brief Goblin Brainstorm Ok, these are the off the top of my head Goblin Types that I came up with; Goblin, Corn Goblin, Egg Goblin, Ghost Goblin, Glass Goblin, Gloom Goblin, Grain Goblin, Grass Goblin, Mole Goblin, Moon Goblin, Trash Not that bad for a starter list, ten is a decent number (wtf are there 'Grain Goblins' AND 'Corn Goblins'???) Now I just need to think of ten different kinds of Goblins, that are all distinct, and not rubbish, and which all present interesting NON COMBAT challenges, and which all have ecologies etc etc. Easy... Corn Goblins - Think I have already covered this but; these are inherent to Corn so if you grow anything tall that grows in rows and can be hidden in its likely that you will eventually have to deal with Corn Goblins of some kind. These are rather horrific creatures which wear masks of woven corn stalks. They steal hair, teeth, fingernails and, when those run out, bones. They can slip a bone out of you while you sleep, unzippng the skin and just eeeeasing the bone out. You might wake up just as they are wiggling the last bit of bone to free it like a foot coming out of a boot. But there will be a Corn Goblin sitting on your chest or head ready to smack you with a mallet or just suffocate you into unconsciousness. Do you want your bits back? Then you have to go into the Corn Maze, a labyrinth of parallax stems deep in the fields. That's where the Palace of the Corn Goblins is and that is where they build their wicker men, using the hair of children to tie them up and their bones to strengthen them. Egg Goblins - Could also be Ovum Goblins. Is there any way these are not just going to decay into some kind of batman villain obsessed with fucking EGGS?? No there is not. Maybe they are born from eggs and never leave them, just sticking their hands and feet and heads out but running around in the giant egg body (if you smash the Egg they freak out and run away and try to become some other kind of goblin). Live in nests? That they are associated with Eggs suggests some kind of Coocoo relationship. Perhaps the eggs are magic and bewitch people into caring for them and for the Goblin which hatches from them? Batman villain rules suggest throwing gas eggs, blinding eggs, explosive eggs, magic eggs, egg eggs, ostrich eggs, caviar. Goblins laying sticky piles of translucent insect-like eggs up in the corners of rafters, strung there with thread. You have to find the nest to.. well what? Is it legitimate to burn a nest of Goblin Eggs? That sounds pretty hardcore for GG&G. I feel like there is absolutely something that could be done with Goblins using eggs as means of secret passage. Perhaps they can dimensionally warp eggs so the Goblin inside is bigger than the egg itself, so when it is time to come out, pop! a big goblin arm, then smash, a glaring goblin head, and out crunches a whole goblin in strong boots from an egg no bigger than a chickens.. Obviously they have to live in a giant fucking egg. Like an egg palace. Maybe the magic of the Goblins is that they are total power over EGGS, like rubbish X-Men they can command Eggs in a variety of ways, use them as weapon delivery systems, stealth infiltration devices, human-capture pokeballs, the bigger the Egg the more power it has. And what do they want? MORE EGGS. Especially GOOSE EGGS. (If they Pokeball you you meet all the other people they have Pokemon'd and they can make you fight your friends). They have crazed flintstone mobiles powered by generators which are just massive eggs spinning in a fulcrum. The Egg Prison in the Palace of Eggs, can you crack its security? Or *beat* it? Ghost Goblins - Perhaps this doesn't need to be any more complex than it sounds. Are they they Ghosts *of* Goblins, or Ghosts acting like Goblins? I mean who knows. Likely these are active at night or in dark places. They can fly around and ghost through walls, press their heads up against windows in the night. Hide in mirrors, shadows and under beds. Especially pretending to be moonlit dressing gowns or scratching mice. Though spooky and creepy they are not very strong and can be vacuumed up, dispelled with sunlight, fluttered away with a strong wind, exorcised, scared by impersonating a monster even more scary than they are (Ghost Goblins are all cowards), trapped in bottles. Ghost Goblins will always pretend to be the Ghosts of more important and tragic people, communicating through tapping and Ouija boards, though they cannot spell correctly. They really like scaring people, especially by freaking them out in the middle of the night and by standing on each others shoulders, putting on a hat and long cloak and standing in the corner of a dark and shadowy room just watching them. The whole deal with Ghost Goblins is pretending to be some Slenderman/Blair Witch nightmare fuel but underneath the spectral masquerade they are just slimer. Though, still a ghost, which is pretty bad. To get rid of ghost goblins string bells around their necks, it drives them mad and they fly away into the treetops moaning and ringing. Glass Goblins - INVISIBLE! Plinking, sharp and cold invisible Goblins. Or at least transparent, which means mainly invisible. They can still get frosty, be covered with paint or lens light strangely, but in low light, if they are not moving around, or in the distance, they are going to be almost impossible to see. The wee scroungers! Do these Glass Goblins even need a behavioural tic? One part of the horror may be actually smashing them. Imagine it screaming and splintering and coming apart, leaving sharp Goblin fragments all over the floor, each fragment having the image of a screaming glass goblin in it? Would the others try to pick it up? Would you try? Or just sweep it into a binbag and have done with it? Glass Goblins can climb up and down glass but they go SKREEEE when doing so. They can also pass through glass as if it was a heavy waterfall. Imagine seeing a Glass Goblin underwater in a pool and not knowing if it was real. Gloom Goblins.. Is there any way I can make these something other than a Shadow Goblin? We've already had the "difficult-to-see" spot filled by the Glass Goblins. An essential fuzzieness? As if they were covered with Velvet? An indistinctness. Goblins falling like leaves, creeping as slowly as long moonshadows. Bright direct light would be their enemy, they would hate to be caught in it. You would see that they have no eyes, no fingernails, no very distinct parts at all, like a Goblin upholstered in grey-black fuzz, as if it were trapped beneath a sheet. Very silent creatures, almost impossible for them to make a sound, or to move quickly, they must creep everywhere, though they can streeeetch themselves out like shadows and move like stilt walkers in the gloom. They would still need to get into your house, but perhaps they can become flat like shadows and slide under the door, but still in a Goblin shape, like Nosferatu against the wall. However they change their shape they are still *actually there*, not truly two dimensional, jut very flat. Flat in a horrible way (though rolling them up in a rug or around a rolling pin can confound them

#d20 #rpg #dnd #dungeons and dragons #fantasy #sword and sorcery #campaigns #fairy tale #mythology #fable #dungeon master #dm #game master #gm #hackmaster #magic item #magic weapon #magic ring #spell book #d12 #d10 #d8 #d6 #d4 #d100 #dice

[irarelypostanything]

Slice of Life[7]

[Andy]

Andy generally prided himself on being slow to anger, but there were three thing that genuinely pissed him off: Python syntax, Trump’s decision to withdraw from Syria, and upper management.

“I want to know which of you thought it was a good idea,” Andy started, over the phone, “to immediately give everyone job titles and display them on every online chat.”

“You’ve always had job titles,” said the upper manager.

“Sure, yeah, I get that.  But now people can see these rankings broadcasted to them.”

“That was sort of the idea.  We’re incentivizing people to want to get promoted.”

“Yeah, and about that...why did you change all the software engineer I’s to associate software engineers?”

“What do you want from us?  Would you have preferred if we moved everyone one rank up, without actually changing pay?”

“Honestly, yes.”

“Would you have preferred if we called all software engineer I’s senior software engineers, and all senior software engineers mega supreme chief super masters?”

“I’d prefer if we just called all of them software engineers.  If they wanted to know ranks, it’s on an Excel document that everyone can see.  No one cares enough to access that, but everyone cares when you rub it in their faces like that.”

“Wait, what?  It’s in an Excel document that everyone can see?”

“Yup, along with yearly salaries.  You guys really need to learn how privileges work.”

“Privileges?  Isn’t that like a PC thing?”

“No, it’s a universal thing.  PC, Linux, Mac.  I have a meeting.  I’ll call you back.”  Andy hung up, then cursed himself at the stupid joke he had just unintentionally made.

In a large conference room Amy, Kevin, and a large number of older and more important people were gathered.  Andy had not yet appeared, so the meeting had not yet started.

“I mean, it wouldn’t have pissed me off so much if they had called me a junior software engineer,” said Amy.

“Really?” asked Kevin, sipping from his remaining coffee cup.  He used to have two, but the other one had just been smashed against a window in pure rage.

“Yeah, because associate makes it seem like I just kind of work part-time.  You know.  For fun.”

Andy came in.  “Sorry I’m late,” he said.  He took control of slides, went through a few formalities, then dropped the bombshell: They would have to work the weekend in order to meet their deadline.

“Remember,” said Andy, “millions of dollars are on the line, just as Amy’s PowerPoint showed.”

“Yup, associate software engineer Amy, doing her part,” mumbled Amy.

“What?”

“What?”

“Let’s go around the room.  Amy, are you okay with working the weekend?”

“Do I have a choice?”

“Technically yes, but it’s important that I emphasize-”

“Fine.  Begrudgingly.”

“Kevin?”

“I don’t know, man,” said Kevin, “that doesn’t sound like a very associate software engineer thing to do.”

“Kevin,” said Andy, “can we speak for a minute in my office?  Privately?”

“Oh, is the new office reserved for non-associate software engineers, only?”

“We both know I stole it from management without asking.  My office.  Now.”

It was a tiny room, but it was still slightly larger than a standard cubicle.  

“I want this toxic attitude to stop.”

“What are you going to do, demote me to associate software engineer?”

“No, I’m going to encourage you to look for other work.”

Andy saw Kevin’s eyes go wide.  He took a bit of pleasure in that, but only a bit.

“No, not like that.  I want you to stay here, spend a little time applying for other companies, and just see what happens.  If anyone asks you about it, tell me I gave you an assignment to see how other companies search for talent.”

Kevin looked visibly shocked.  “You’re my boss.  Why would you allow me to do this?”

“Because employee turnover is a problem.  Instead of pretending it doesn’t happen, we should just let our people figure out what they’re worth.  So go for it.  See what you can land, come back to management, and maybe they’ll make you a matching offer.”

“Andy, that’s awesome.  I don’t know how to thank you for letting me do this.”

“You can start by not being a dick at my meetings.”

“Done.”

[Kevin]

It had been just like his experience with online dating: He’d send messages and get nothing back, he’d send messages to different people and get nothing back, and then suddenly on a random day he’d hear back from a ton of people.

What he had not yet realized was that, like in online dating, most of these companies would lose interest in him after talking for the first time.

“Go ahead and tell me a little bit about yourself,” said the phone interviewer, in an accent that Kevin could not quite identify.

“I’m a software engineer,” said Kevin.  “Not an associate software engineer, a software engineer.”

“Okay.  So it says on your resume that you helped use memory more dynamically.  Can you elaborate?”

“So I took memory, and I made it more dynamic.”

“What kinds of code changes did you make?”

“Dynamic ones.”

“Perhaps I’ll revisit that.  Let’s go into technical questions.”

“Okay.”

“What’s the difference between malloc and calloc?”

“I don’t use malloc.  I’m a C++ developer.”

“Do you use calloc?”

“No.”

“What is the difference between new and malloc?”

“I just said, I don’t use malloc...”

“Let’s move on.  You listed Java on your resume.”

“Shit, did I?”

“What are some major differences between Java and C++?”

“I don’t know.”

“Can you think of anything related to garbage collection?”

“I just said, I don’t know.”

“What about bytecode?”

“C++ and Java both use bytes.”

“Let’s move onto the main interview question.”  The interviewer pulled up a shared screen on CoderPad.  “Pretty simple,” he explained, “you’re just going to write a C++ function to reverse a string.”

“Oh, okay.  I’ll just write a for loop to traverse it backwards.”

“Let me finish.  You have to reverse the string in place.  You’re not allowed to make a new string.”

“Oh...”

The two spent a little 5 minutes or so in awkward silence.

“So to clarify…” said Kevin.

“Mhm?”

“The input string, is it composed of characters?”

“Um...yes.  The input string is made of characters...”

“Can I use a hashmap for this?”

“Why would you do that.”

“Okay, let me start.”  Kevin typed #include #hashmap at the top of his C++ program.

“Are you sure it’s called hashmap in C++?”

“Do I spell hash as a hashtag?”

The rest of the interview went about as smoothly as that.

[Ryan]

“So you’ve only been working there for three months,” asked the interviewer, incredulous, “and you’re already looking for new work?”

“Yeah man, it’s a toxic environment.”

“How so?”

Ryan strained to make up a reason.  He actually had no desire to quit, he kind of just wanted to see how far he got.  “Well, the boss demands that I come in at 10 every day.”

“PM?”

“AM.”

“Do you have...other concerns?”

“Well, there’s not much upward mobility.  I’ve taken control of most of their core infrastructure, and I’ve only been promoted once.”

“They promoted you in three months?”

“Yep.”

“That’s amazing.  Let’s go into technical questions.”

“Go for it.”

“What is 2 to the power of 32?”

“4294967296.”

“What is 2 to the power of 33?”

“8589934592.”

“Why is 2 to the power of 32 significant?”

“Hopefully when we finally finish moving from 32-bit machines to 64-bit machines once and for all, it won’t.”

“Good answer.  What is the difference between new and malloc?”

“New is an operator while malloc is a library function, malloc doesn’t call a constructor, and malloc returns a void pointer whereas new returns an exact type.”

“Why is new faster?”

“An operator is always faster than a function.”

“What are the key differences between a red-black and an AVL tree?”

Ryan answered the question correctly, but I am omitting it because I don’t care.

“Here’s the main question,” said the interviewer, sharing his screen.  It was a function that took an input array of stock values.  Ryan would have 45 minutes to devise and implement an algorithm for calculating maximum profit if he was only allowed to make one transaction.

It was considered an easy question, but Ryan’s solution was so linear that it made the interviewer pee his pants.

#fiction #short story

[moriabn6-blog]

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[topicprinter]

When preparing to launch your startup, you will have carried out some initial research on who your target market is, who your potential competition is and validated if there definitely is a gap in the market that your company could fill. From this research, you should have a vague idea of where you could find the data for your target market – which is always a great start.The benefits you have of making B2B sales is that all businesses want to be contacted (not necessarily by the salespeople) but still, the majority of them will have a website, contact name and contact email address. If we compare this to startups with B2C. Many accelerator programmes I speak at, have a common trend for early stage startup founders to spend the majority of their time manually researching data. When I witness this, I always ask the following question:What is your hourly rate if I wanted to hire you to work for me? £50/h, £100/h? So why are you doing data research that costs £3/h?Data ScrapingI have worked with a brilliant freelancer on fiverr.com for the past 2 years. He charges $5 to scrape around 10,000 contacts, he is very reliable and his work is always high quality. To use him just go to: Fiverr Data Mining A word of warning when working with freelancers on these types of jobs – make sure you spell out exactly the information you require such as name, email, website, full address etc. Using this method you can very quickly get all the data you need. However, if you want to set up all the scraping yourself, then I advise you to use Webscraper.io.Filtering Data and Improving QualityNow you can get a list of all of your potential customers, you will have a large database of everyone you can start selling to. However, before you start emailing or calling I would advise you to filter and tidy the data to ensure the highest quality for your sales team to call. The better quality data means higher conversions and less wasted time when emailing and calling companies. Here’s how you can do it step by step:Step 1 – Verify EmailsI use Email Hunter to verify all emails. Simply bulk upload all of your data into Email Hunter and you will get a report of all emails that are accurate and all of the ones which will bounce back. Although the results are not perfect, it is a very quick way to validate how good your data is.Step 2 - Replace any incorrect emailsI want to help you to get all of your data perfect, not just some of it. Therefore, the next step is to find any of the incorrect data.1. From the Email Hunter validation report, simply select all of the companies with incorrect details and create a new spreadsheet.2. Using another Email Hunter tool Email Finder, to bulk upload all the website domains that you have with incorrect emails and Email Hunter will find all of the email addresses for you. Again, these emails will not always be 100% correct but it is a lot quicker than manually searching for them.3. For any of the emails that cannot be found, use a freelancer to manually research the email information. I run a separate business where you can find Timelypa.com and register to have a call if you want to find out more about this service.When working with data researchers, I always make sure they use the following tools for all the research:Google Docs: A simple one but it’s important that you can check the level of work in real-time Remove Duplicates: Simple Chrome Store plugin to avoid duplicatesRapportive: This is another plugin which allows you to get all personal information. If you can guess the email format of a company, e.g: firstname/[email protected] then you can validate if you have the right information. This is a brilliant tool particularly for finding managers and owners information who rarely have their contact details online.Facebook About Page: Often companies only have a contact form on their website, However, on their Facebook about page they will often list contact details, names and emails.Who.is: This software shows you the name, mobile number, and name of the person who registered the domain. Although more relevant for targeting small businesses, this can be one of the best ways of finding the owner’s personal details.Testing the Quality of Data and Establishing Decision MakersThis is a controversial technique and not something I always condone, but it is something that it is worth you knowing about. Now you are at the stage where you have all of your data scraped and filtered. Here you have two options:Send a cold marketing email to introduce your startup and establish interest in the customer wanting a demo on your product.OrSend a cold-email from a private Gmail address pretending to be a customer and enquiring about information. The outcome of this is that you will find out the decision maker, contact name and direct email address making your future email campaigns more personalised and relevant.However, I do not feel too comfortable carrying out stage 2. If you feel that your product can genuinely help the business you are targeting, and that your ‘fake customer’ email will not waste any time of the recipient, then you may want to test this technique out. To do this, I would advise using the following steps:Create a new Gmail account that has no association with your business accountInstall Streak CRM as a chrome plugin where you can email 500 contacts per day (read this blog on why only 500)Using all the data that you have scraped and filtered, create an individual pipeline on Streak in batches of 500.To import the data into Streak, go to ‘More / Import boxes’ and simply upload all of your data.Once all of your data is imported, you will need to create a snippet which will have a saved email template that you can send out. To do this go to ‘compose new email’ and write the email that you want to send. Imagine if you were a customer, which information would you want to ask to get the required outcome of the decision maker replying? Once you have written the email at the bottom of the email, you will see an orange icon on the far right. Click on that and choose ‘create new snippet from current message’. Once the snippet is saved you are ready to launch your first email campaign. Simply go to:-- Compose email;-- Choose the snippet you want to use and you should see the email template you have saved-- Click ‘recipients’ and then ‘mail merge’ and you will be prompted to choose a pipeline-- You will then be prompted to ‘Choose boxes’-- This will direct you to the pipeline you have created. Just click the tick box to select all of the people in the pipeline-- Once selected click ‘continue with mail merge’. You will see a message in the bottom right-hand side of your screen-- You will then be redirected back to your email that you have drafted.-- Double check you are happy with the content then click ‘send’.-- If everything has been set up correctly, you will see another message in the bottom right-hand side of the screen showing you the progress of the emails being sent.-- It usually takes around 20-30 mins to send all 500 emails.Linkedin Lead GenerationIf your target market is focussed on larger companies, you may feel that connecting with key decision makers via Linkedin would be a better approach to creating leads. If so, I would recommend using Linkedeep. This software allows you to:Search for anybody on Linkedin based on specific criteria, in this example ‘business development’.Linkedeep will then find every connection on Linkedin that fits that criteria. Try and be as specific as possible to get the most relevant data, such as ‘sales manager’, ‘London’, ‘Lettings industry’.Then, Linkedeep will allow you to connect with all contacts in bulk which can help to really automate your lead generation process.On top of this, you can personalise scheduled messages for each connection when they connect with you.In any company that I work with, I always stress how important the data research process is. It is the first step of building momentum for all marketing efforts and the better quality data – the higher likelihood that it will lead to sales. Also, remember that once you have a great set of data for the people who do not respond to you or buy straight away, you can always message them again in the future when your startup is more popular and may have a better chance of converting.This article has been taken from my blog - https://patrickpaulcollins.com/manage-data-scale-startup/If you are using any other technique, please comment and share your experience - I would love to learn something new.

#/r/startups #reddit

[finnoxgygenthief-blog]

Pt. 6 • random questions

601) What is your one major weakness? Trust 602) What's been the best decision you've made in your life so far? Getting rid of certain shit 603) What's been the worst decision you've made in your life so far? Even starting that whole shit 604) What words do you always struggle to spell correctly? Oxygen, dyslexia because I am in fact dyslexic 605) On a scale of 1-10 how happy would you say you are? Is this even a question for me? 606) On a scale of 1-10 how smart would you say you are? -273 (Kelvin's absolute freezing point because I see no brain activity here) 607) On a scale of 1-10 how funny would you say you are? 10 I'm fucking hilarious 608) On a scale of 1-10 how devious would you say you are? 9. 3/4 haha 609) On a scale of 1-10 how awesome would you say you are? Pft a solid 2 610) On a scale of 1-10 how devilsh would you say you are? 666 611) On a scale of 1-10 how nice/caring would you say you are? I'm caring but I'm blunt so I can come off as harsh so I'm going with 5 612) On a scale of 1-10 how bitchy would you say you are? 10 613) On a scale of 1-10 how polite would you say you are? 5 614) On a scale of 1-10 how attractive would you say you are? 6 615) If you could be any famous person who would you be and why? Christian Bale, because Batman and playing a magician in a movie where David Bowie stars as Nikola Tesla, yeah you get it 616) What's your favourite animal beginning with the letter A? Alligator 617) What's your favourite item of clothing beginning with the letter B? Beanies 618) What's your favourite expletive beginning with the letter C? Cunt 619) What's your favourite boys name beginning with the letter D? Damian ha 620) What's your favourite girls name beginning with the letter E? Eliza because of my grandma 621) What's your favourite book beginning with the letter F? Forrest Gump 622) What's your favourite bodypart beginning with the letter G? G-spot 😎 Idk 623) What's your favourite musical instrument beginning with the letter H? Harp? Idfk 624) What's your favourite song beginning with the letter I? I Wanna Be Your Dog by the Stooges 625) What's your favourite actress beginning with the letter J? Jennifer Lawrence 626) What's your favourite actor beginning with the letter K? Keanu Reeves 627) What's your favourite film beginning with the letter L? Lolita or Labyrinth 628) What's your favourite tv show beginning with the letter M? M*A*S*H* 629) Whats your favourite game beginning with the letter N? Nokia's snake lol idfk anymore 630) What's your favourite non alcoholic drink beginning with the letter O? Oreo milkshake 631) What's your favourite food beginning with the letter P? Pasta 632) What's your favourite band beginning with the letter Q? Queen lol 633) What's your favourite author beginning with the letter R? Nancy Taylor Rosenberg 634) What's your favourite sport beginning with the letter S? Soccer 635) What's your favourite job beginning with the letter T? Toilet cleaner idfk these questions are giving me a headache 636) What's your favourite mythical creature beginning with the letter U? I can't spell it Urma- something this mesopotamian lion-human hybrid cool af 637) What's your favourite alcoholic drink beginning with the letter V? I don't drink alcoholic beverages. 638) What's your favourite cartoon character beginning with the letter W? Don't watch cartoons 639) What's your favourite word beginning with the letter X? Xenophilia 640) What's your favourite city beginning with the letter Y? York? Idfk 641) What's your favourite country beginning with the letter Z? I'mma go with (New) Zealand lol 642) Do you get seasick? No 643) If you discovered a new species of dinosaur what would you call it? Last intelligent species 644) Do you own a paddling pool? No 645) What do you consider is the most important piece of furniture in a house? The little inflatable palm tree 646) What do you consider is the most important appliance in a house? WiFi router 647) If you could have any celebrity's hair whose would it be? Idfk Jared Leto 648) Which Celebrity do you find the most annoying? Kardashians/Jenners 649) What potential talents do you think you might have if you worked at them? Social skills 650) Who was better, Flipper, Lassie or Skippy? Flipper 651) If you could be trained up in any profession of your choice by top professionals what profession would you choose? Astronaut lol 652) If someone else's child was being an annoying little runt would you go tell them off or do something about it? Tell the parent off 653) Do you believe in karma? I do 654) Do you believe in revenge? Yes 655) Do you believe in fairies? No 656) Do you believe in a god? Idk 657) Do you believe there used to be dragons? Sure 658) Who would you want to be with on a desert island? Jade 659) What's the worst show on television? Keeping up with the kardashians I hope that shit is over though 660) Who's your favourite god from ancient history? I can't spell the fucking name but Cutuhlu 661) What one device would you want to see added to a mobile phone? Sunlight power generator 662) Where do you see yourself in 1 months time? Idk 663) Where do you see yourself in 1 years time? Away 664) Where do you see yourself in 10 years time? Dead idk 665) What was the best thing about your old school? Honestly, it was terrible and the only thing I miss was seeing the look on the old hag of a principal's face when I entered her office after doing shit 666) What was the worst thing about your old school? ..also the same as above 667) If you could change your name to anything what would your new name be? David 668) Do you watch too much tv? Not really 669) Have you ever planted a tree? Yes 670) Whats the heaviest thing you can lift? Don't think I've tried my luck that far 671) What was the last present you received? A gift card to a record store 672) Are your ears lobed or attached? Something in between 673) How often do you wash your ears? Whenever I shower 674) Could you go out with someone who had a child from a previous relationship? No 675) What was your first alcoholic drink? None 676) What was your first job? Something like blockbuster? Yeah I worked at that place smfh 677) What was your first car? (or what would you like it to be?) A wreck of an audi 678) What was your first mobile phone? I had the original nokia bruh 679) What is your first proper memory? Parents fighting 680) Who was your first teacher? Good old cougar Mrs Briggs 😂 681) Where did you go on your first ride on an airplane? From Ireland to London 682) Who was your first best friend? Probably Mike 683) What was your first detention for? I was like 8 and I hit a boy for demanding a kiss from this girl 684) What's your strongest voluntary muscle? Not even going there 685) Who was your first kiss? Ashley, we were like 12 686) What was the first film you remember seeing at the cinema? Simpsons Movie 687) What thing that you've made are you most proud of? Lot of charity 688) Could you ever be someones bodyguard? Dk 689) Michelangelo's David... Masterpiece or filth? Eh 690) Do you like other people buying you clothes? No 691) Have you ever brought a present for someone that they hated/disliked? Yes 692) What nicknames do you have/have had? Don't really have one, pretty lame 693) Did you have any pretend or imaginary friends? Yes 694) Have you ever seen a therapist/shrink? Yes 695) Have you ever carved a pumpkin? No 696) Would you say you are a good or bad influence to others? Bad 697) Do you prefer giving or recieving gifts/help etc? Giving 698) If you were a member of the spice girls, what would your spice handle be? What 699) If you were to become a famous singer, what would your debut album be called? "Needles & Threads" or "Judas' Kiss" 700) If you could join any music group which would you want to join? Nine Inch Nails cause damn

[trpg-dingusmaster]

the guy with an INT score of 7 tries to tinker and start a child labor revolution

So, Huntsman Josiah Hugo and friends? Were at the cabin he and… Jamie? Live in when everyone realizes this is probably the best safe house for the group- so far only the cabbie knows its location, but it’s too small. So construction must be done. Supplies are gathered over the course of a few days and we begin building a workshop. Extra bedrooms or a kitchen upgrade is what everyone else wanted but i knew that everyone wants to also do a lot of potentially dangerous or at least delicate crafting. And Hugo just really wanted one and as one of the only ones able to build stuff like this no one argued much. The one handed girl who has requested that Hugo make her a new hand, if possible one with a hidden compartment or weapon. Without a workshop I doubt even as a professional woodworker he with his Int of 7 could do that. Even with the shop it was difficult and some pieces were broken now and then in the work but it did get done… it’s not great but it more or less does what it’s supposed to. Vaguely able to grip and there is a hidden blade in it though the spring mechanism is probably wood and not exactly reliable for long term use.

I kept asking the dm during the planing and various checks- this is a great idea but are you sure I can do this? Like? Hugo isn’t exactly… smart. He knows wood I guess but? im guessing that’s all? So I guess based on what I observed this means the difficulty of the check is adjusted based on whether or not you can argue the check falls within your skills in general rather than modifying your roll with with skill and proficiency points, I’m not sure if stat mods are calculated into the roll but don’t think they are either. So, about 6 days went by and the hand and workshop were completed. There were some trips back into town to scavenge for extra supplies, buy some things, sell some things. Pretty uneventful. Jamie went out and hunted for a lot if that time. 

 Day 6 one of the characters, who is learning to be a healer officially and on the side is working to destroy the child labour/slavery racket is approached by a friend and buisness associate. They have the blue prints to a mill, one that the one handed girl in the party used to work in before she escaped, and the security rotation schedule for the rest of the week. They also have a ‘delicate package’ (bomb). These things are left with the would be healer and the one handed girl to do with as they please. Another party member is approached in with the transport route of a carriage full of supplies headed derp into a powerful gangs territory- the same gang we had a poor encounter with on day 1. The informant didn’t want anything but to inconvenience the gang and a cut of the supplies so they said. The group gets back together at the cabin and on the way the cabbie sells the party a box of misc parts, scrap, and old tools that was cluttering up his house. everyone discussed the options and it was decided that. We’d rescue the children at the mill. The likelihood of the enemy following the stolen carriage and the group back to the cabin was too much. There was a third option but I font remember what it was. Hugo and Jamie take positions at high ground in a nearby building stealth killing a couple guards who were there first. The one handed girl has the bomb. The healer hired the cabbie to pretend to be her personal chauffeur/body guard as she pretends to be a potential buyer for the mills product and services. It goes reasonably well. Once the bomb goes off dropping a chunk of the ceiling onto some of the machinery in the work room the jig is up and combat begins. Even this goes reasonably well, until suddenly the dwarf falls for no reason anyone on the ground can see. Was it another gtoup of guards over seeing the mill from another building? 

No. It was an unfamiliar hooded figure, so not the same as the previous suspicious characher, that only Hugo saw. Jamie went down to join melee and Hugo stayed to keep up ranged combat and watch for the arrival of any reinforcements. However when the cabbie Bruce suddenly got up and started wildly swinging his axes at anything within reach Hugo thought it best to head down. During the chaos of the berserk dwarf the healer and the one handed girl pilfered some bodies and checked around for the keys needed to set free some of the children and gave them the keys to free the rest. These two did take some damage from Bruce. Jamie and Hugo were not much help in that situation but the healers friend showed up in time to help knock him out and free the rest of the children who made short work of their captors. The friend dropped came by with a card and some back up and said we had only so much time before the property was getting leveled. Just enough time for both our group and the healers friends to loot though the friend got first run. The children ran off armed and angry. We assume this will end badly but arguable only for whoever sent those children to the mill, we hope. We plan to deal with that later maybe. 

 As Hugo loads Bruce and the spoils of victory into Bruces carriage we assume the police are on their way but what arrives instead are the real owners of the mill, the same gang from day 1. While there are three or four total it seems this one is the most wide spread. The healers friend says time is running out and they leave as flames bread out all over the mill and an explosion is head from tge other side of tge building. we stay to kill off the arriving gang members because… why not go the extra mile? When we kill them we find a blood stained deed to the land covering the mill and the building next to it. It’s pretty substantial lot for the party but hopefully not so much to its former owners. The witnesses who know we were there are the healers friends, Bruce if he remembers any of it, the now wild children, and the hooded figure. The healer examines what Bruce was attacked with and recognized what it was and possibly where it came from but was unable to fully identify it and what was needed to cure it. While the rest of the group took everything back to the Bruces shop because they aren’t great at driving a carriage, the healer went off to do research and came back with the cure later that night. When Bruce recovered we explained what happened. 

Evidence suggests the attack was about Bruce and not the mill. Huntsman Josiah Hugo has 45/90 lbs fine coal remaining. If I remember correctly. I don’t have his sheet on me today. Typed this up on mobile I'll edit more of the spelling and grammar later. The noble, his body guard, and the ruffian were not at this session.

#90lbs finecoal #huntsman josiah hugo #play summary