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beefrobeefcal · 2 years ago

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Dark!Frankie Saga: IV

Chapter Four: Going Out in Style

Pairing: Dark!Frankie Morales x Fem!Reader

Summary:

Boston. The Frontiersmen is a crime syndicate that deals in drugs, arms, and anything else they can to keep themselves on top. Since the original ring leader, Tom, was allegedly taken out by a rival gang, it's now run by Big Fish, with Pope second in command. Ironhead runs the numbers and Benny is the muscle. Your family member put you down as collateral when they needed credit to score more smack. Problem is, they can't pay it back, and Big Fish & the Frontiersmen always get their payment...

Rating: Explicit 18+ (MDNI)

Chapter Word Count: 4,350

Content Warning: SMUT (YES WE'RE HERE!), references to SA, almost SA, violence, threats of violence, crime, weight talk, eating, belly admiration, cooking, fingering, blow job

Author's Notes:

A day late, but we're here!

Once again, the biggest, juiciest, wettest thank you to @neverwheremoonchild for being the Beta Fish for Big Fish (get it? Beta'ing the story about Big Fi-... okay, you got it). Thank you, Nevy! 💜🥩💜

And this is not the Chubby!Frankie we know and love in the Catfish & the Mouse universe; he's dark, mean, and hungry. I'll be updating this each week (Monday/Tuesday) until you lose interest or I finish it - let's see what happens first! 👌

Beefro’s Master List | Previous Chapter

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It had been over a week since you last saw Frankie, when he shoved you into your room after eating the entire tray of shepherd’s pie. In that time, you’d also had no run ins with Pope or any of the other frontiersmen beyond Will taking you to and from the office and Benny taking Will’s place when he wasn’t able to be there.

Today had been different. You were up and ready, waiting for Will to arrive. When he didn’t, you popped your head out of your room into the quiet hallway. Hesitating for a moment, you finally walked down the corridor and opened the door, peaking into the lounge; it was empty, too.

You’d been waiting and were hungry. Normally, Will would have you stop in the kitchen for a quick breakfast on your way to the office, but being that he was over an hour late, you wondered what the harm in getting your own breakfast would be. Quietly and quickly stepping across the room and into the kitchen, you made quick work of the instant oatmeal and a banana before scurrying back to your room to eat.

Another hour passes as you wait for Will. You’d now gotten an old Kindle and a few books from Benny, and despite the contents of the e-reader being nowhere near what you would normally read, you were thankful for it especially this morning. You sat up in bed, legs stretched out with one dangling off the side.

It was almost noon when Will did arrive. He seemed off, like something had spooked him, and his eyes didn’t stay on the same spot for more than a second, wildly looking everywhere after he barged into your room, breathing heavily.

He looked you, wide eyed, trying to steady his breathing. He looked over your desk, seeing the evidence of your breakfast and nodded.

“Good… yeah… Got breakfast… good.”, he breathed out, nodding.

Will’s thoughts were overrun with trying to grapple with what he’d discovered and how he was going to keep Frankie - his boss, his friend – safe. Why he came to you while his mind raced through every scenario and how to avoid terrible outcomes, he didn’t know.

You, on the other hand, didn’t know if he was high, coming down off something, or what the problem was, but you nodded back at him, pulling your legs towards you out of caution.

Will’s eyes darted back to you, his brows twitching between a frown and concern, then he went unnervingly still, his eyes boring into you, like he’d been trying to solve a problem and then solution had struck him. A eureka moment had never looked so sinister.

“You… you like Fish – Mr. Morales, right, honey?”, he said in a staggered voice, taking a step closer to you, nodding with a grin, like he was telling you what your answer should be. “You… you want him to keep protecting you, right?”

Eyes trained on him, you nodded, willing the bed to allow you to sink further into it and the wall behind to get away from Will closing in on you.

“Yeah?... yeah, you do… yeah…”, he breathes with a wide, nervous grin. He ran his hand through his hair, looking at the ceiling for a beat. “You gotta do something for me, honey… something for Mr. Morales.”

Will’s breathing was almost labored, like he was on the verge of a breakdown, and he was trying to bring himself back from the edge. He nodded at you as he pulled out the chair at your desk and sat down. You could see the sweat on his brow, the beads dripping down his neck. He must be high. You thought to yourself.

He rubbed his palms on his jeans and nodded again, breathing out okay, okay, okay to himself. You watched, not able to react outwardly, not sure how he would react to anything you did.

“Honey… you gotta listen to me… he… uh, Mr. Morales wants… he told me to tell you… he needs you… to… to be… useful…”

Your eyes went wide, and you shook your head, and Will stood up, coming towards you. He leaned over you, gripping your knees, and he nodded.

“Yes… yes… honey, please… Mr. Morales… he needs you to… to make the first move… this is… what he likes… please… you need to…”

Will’s eyes were pleading as he nodded at you.

“No… please no… I can’t!”, you hissed back at him, desperation making you shake.

His brows furrowed and then frowned, his mouth tightened, and his cold, blue eyes glared into yours. The grip he had on your knees grew firmer.

“You’ll fuckin’ do it… he’ll fuckin’ throw you to Pope. You think he’ll keep you off limits if you don’t fuck him? You gotta be useful for him to keep you ‘round!”

A terrified whimper sticks in your throat, and your chin quivers.

“I’m on your side… I know what he likes. You’ll… you’ll be fine. I just wanna help you.” Will’s face relaxed as he spoke, his tone, however, remained tense. “You do this? He’ll treat you good… new sheets… new books... might get to leave the compound more often… better protection. Just gotta… gotta make yourself more useful, honey.”

“I am useful!”, you plead, trying to pull away from him. “i… I-I do the books w-with you and-and I cooked for him… I fed him… I did what I was told!”

Will scowled at you and shook his head.

“Honey… Frankie doesn’t eat… he fuckin’ devours… and the only way you’re gonna survive is if you let him devour you.” He growls lowly, leaning his face closer to yours.

You didn’t have a choice. You didn’t have a choice but to comply if you wanted to make it out of this. You had no idea what had come over Will to put you in this position, but you knew this was not an argument he was going to lose. You searched his face one last time for any hint of an out, and when nothing was found, you nodded.

“Good girl.”

*****

You found yourself at the door to Frankie’s office. You were nervous. You’d told yourself you shouldn’t be but given how terrifyingly Will had behaved before giving you a crash course on how you needed to behave for Frankie and how you could hear Frankie berating someone behind the door, your knees felt weak.

“You fuckin’ pull that shit again! Fuckin’ try me!”, you heard him yell. “Now get the fuck out of my sight, you shit weasel!”

With that, the door to the office flew open and you were nearly bowled over by one of the lower rung men as he ran out of the office. You moved out of the way just in time, but not before Pope saw you from his position beside the desk Frankie hulked behinds menacingly.

“Hey Honey.”, he said in a horribly smooth voice. “Fish, we got company.”

Frankie was leaning over the desk, hands planted on the wood, and he looked up at you. The harsh, tight frown he held on his face softened, and he nodded his head to grant you entrance. You stepped in, remembering the lesson your learned about hesitating at the end of your last interaction, moving towards Frankie, and standing in front of the desk.

You held your hands in front of you, nervously fidgeting them. Before coming to the office, Will had picked out a dress for you to wear. He’d ripped through your clothing, almost deranged, until he’s come to the one you now had on; it was form fitting and short. You’d always worn it with tights or leggings, but Will had sent you out bare legged and vulnerable.

Frankie looked you over, and he huffed a small, cold laugh as a grin tugged on one side of his mouth.

“What is it, baby? What do you need?”, he asked in a much gentler tone than you expected.

You opened your mouth to respond, but before a word could come out, Pope sided up next to you, one hand coming to fix an errant hair and the other’s fingers gently skimming your side.

“I know what you need, Honey...” His breath was hot on your jaw and neck as he spoke lowly.

You turned your head, pulling your body away from his touch and he chuckled.

“Hey, fucker!”, Frankie’s voice boomed, making you jump. You turned your eyes up at him and they were zeroed in on you.

“Sorry, Fish... my bad.”, Pope chuckled with a devilish grin, holding his hands up as he took a step back from you. Frankie could see how uncomfortable you were and motioned you to come to him with his fingers and you moved to the other side of the desk, taking care that your dress didn’t ride up with each step.

He turned to you, resting his hand on the desk and the other on his hip. His face softened again as he licked his bottom lip.

“What’dya need, Honey?”, he said softly.

You could feel Pope’s eyes on you, and it made your skin crawl.

“Come on, honey... boss doesn’t have all day...”, Pope sneered.

“Shut the fuck up, Pope.”, Frankie barked, pointing at the smaller man. He turned his attention back to you, placing the hand he’d just pointed so aggressively at Pope with gently on your shoulder and lowered his voice, “Come on, baby... tell me what’s going on.”

“Will sent me to ask if you... if you wanted dinner, Mr. Morales.” You felt your cheeks flush as you heard yourself speak in that ridiculously meek voice as Frankie gave you a soft grin.

Pope let out a laugh from behind you, and snickered, “Fuckin’ Will...”

Frankie glowered at Pope, then turned back to you, with a low voice, and he gently moved his hand to your neck, his thumb softly touching your jaw. “What’re you gonna make me, baby?”

“I make... I make a pretty good lasagna. Do you like lasagna, Mr. Morales?”

Pope let out a loud bark of a laugh, standing closer to the desk and sitting on it sideways, forcing himself to be a part of this conversation. “I like lasagna, too, honey... We all do.”

Frankie’s face turned back to Pope, and he barked one word: “OUT.”

Pope’s smile fell and he scowled at you, but you wouldn’t meet his gaze. He looked up at Frankie, and when he was met with his cold stare, he raised his brows, got off the desk and nodded. He turned and stalked out of the room, slamming the door.

Frankie watched him leave and took a deep breath before returning his attention to you. He smiled and spoke to you like he would a child.

“You go make that lasagna and you bring it here when it’s done. Okay, baby?”

“Yes, Mr. Morales.”

“Good girl.”, he smiled, giving your neck an affectionate squeeze before releasing you.

You quickly turned, not wanting to hesitate, and walked towards the door.

“I like your dress, Honey.”, he called out to you with a sly grin, and you turned back to him with a shy smile, giving him a small curtsey, which highlighted how short this dress really was on you.

“Thank you, Mr. Morales.”

*****

“Benny?”, you called out from the kitchen. After what seemed like hours, you were finally ready to put the lasagna in the oven.

Benny walked in and watched as you carefully placed the casserole dish on the rack and closed the oven door. He’d asked earlier about the last time you’d cooked for Frankie and how it went, and after prying the details out of you, he felt uneasy about the whole thing. He liked you, thought you were sweet and cute. He knew you were off limits, not that he wanted to touch you, but he felt like he needed to step in and be that protector, that older brother you deserved.

“You’re gonna take this to his office... and what? Feed him?”, he asked, quietly, not wanting to think about what Frankie had planned for you. He was his friend, but you deserved better.

“I don’t know, Benny.”, you sighed with a shrug. “I just have to, I don’t know... I have to be useful.”

You didn’t mention to him about Will, knowing he had a temper and not wanting Frankie to find out that Benny lost his shit on his brother because of something you said.

Benny said nothing in response; he just shook his head and huffed.

“I’ll be fine. I’m a big girl.”, you smiled warmly at him.

Benny smiled back at you, but it didn't reach his eyes. Something about the way he looked at you made you question the gentleness of Frankie’s touch in his office, the soft voice he used for you. Yeah, Will said that this was how you could be useful, but Frankie wouldn’t do anything like that to you,would he?He just liked to have someone pretty bring him food and watch him eat, which if you were being honest with yourself, you were the perfect candidate for the job.

He likes pretty things. Pretty cars, pretty views, pretty profits, pretty girls, Honey. Will’s words rang through your skull as your eyes searched Benny’s for more information.

But what if Frankie wanted to use you like that? You had expected as much before, going so far as to mentally prepare yourself for him to fuck you the last time you’d been left alone in the very kitchen you stood in.

Why was Benny looking at you like that? Like he felt... guilt? Oh god...

He watched your face fall, and he cleared this throat, looking away.

“Come on, Honey... can’t keep the big guy waitin’.”

*****

Benny walked along side you in the hallways, helping you bring the food along with the accompanying dishes and cutlery to Frankie’s office. As you approached the door, Benny quickly stepped in front of you. He looked down at you, the nervousness overtaking his features and voice.

“Nothin’ you don’t want, Honey. Don’t let’im do nothin’ you don’t want, okay?”

You nodded in return, a sour feeling blooming in your gut. He nodded back and took a deep breath, then pushed open the office door.

“He’s not here.”, Benny said with a slight hint of relief in his voice. “I’ll help you bring this back to the kitchen.”

“No… just put to down. He said for me to bring it to him here.” You kept your eyes lowered as you placed the plate, knife, fork and a beer where he sat at his desk. Benny put the casserole dish down on one of the side tables, then turned and looked at you.

As he was about to speak, the office door opened, and Frankie walked in, followed by Will. You froze as you saw him trail in after Frankie. He made quick eye contact with you before shifting his attention to Benny.

“We’re gonna head out to collect some payments, Benny. Come on.”, Will ordered, motioning him to follow. He waited at the door as Benny walked past you, giving you one last look, before moving towards the exit. Will gave you a quick glance then closed the door behind him and Benny, leaving you alone with Frankie.

Frankie watched you and Benny exchange looks before the younger man left with Will, and he felt a pang of jealousy. You trusted him, and, from what he’d been told and what he had seen, you weren’t afraid of him. Benny had even said you were funny and smart. Not that Frankie doubted that, but he’d never seen that side of you. He had a fleeting need; he wanted that for himself, feeling he was owed that given that he hadn’t tossed you to one of the other guys, especially Pope. He wanted you in your entirety. He couldn’t deny how hot it was that you were so much smaller than he was, especially when he towered over you after he ate. But was that really him or was that the lifestyle and power he had acquired now that he led the Frontiersmen? No one said no to him or questioned what he said, but you, with your openness to Benny countering your nervousness towards him, had destabilized this secure notion that had carried him the last five years. He knew he had to tread lightly with you to get what he wanted.

Before you heard Frankie, you felt him move behind you; his hand resting softly on your upper back between your shoulder blades. He stepped closer to you, gently moving his hand down your back and around your waist to turn you around to him.

“Smells really fucking good, baby.”, he groaned. You could hear the smile in his voice and sure enough, it was confirmed as you turned to face him. Looking up into his face, you could see his soft brown eyes looking down at you warmly.

“Thank you, Mr. Morales.”

You were getting lost in his eyes, hypnotized by his gaze as he backed you against the desk. When your backside hit the mahogany, he pressed himself against you and cupped his large hand against the back of your neck, his thumb, as he did earlier, touched your jaw lightly.

“Did so good for me today, Honey. You’re gonna plate some of that delicious smelling food up for me and you and I are gonna get to know each some more, okay?”

You nodded in return, and he gave you a stern look. “Gotta use that pretty mouth and talk to me, baby.”

“Y – yes, Mr. Morales.”, you stumbled.

He smiled and stepped back, releasing you to get to work. He sat heavily in his office chair. You could tell he’d eaten already today, based on the way his belt and pants pulled a little tighter across his waist and how his undershirt that he wore under the open Hawaiian shirt was already looking a little snug.

As soon as you’d plated up his food and places it in front of him, he tugged you by the waist to sit on one of his thighs, then pulled his chair closer to the desk. He picked up his fork and took a bite of the lasagna, and you watched him intently.

After he swallowed, he smiled and huffed a laugh as he shook his head and said before taking another bite, “You’re gonna wreck me for any other cook, baby. Tell me how you made it.”

*****

You’d only stayed on his lap for the first helping, moving to sitting on the desk next to his beer with your knees crossed for the remainder of his meal. His hand would occasionally come up and rest on your calf or thigh before he would grab his beer for a drink.

He asked for more information about you, your home life, your up bringing, anything he could think of that Benny would have asked and you slowly seemed to be less nervous with him.

By the time he’d finished the whole dish, Frankie was sitting back in his chair, thighs wide and belly protruding. He’d finally deemed you warmed up enough for him and he turned the questioning over to you.

“Alright baby… enough of you hogging the spotlight.”, he grunted with a smile, shifting his belt and pants lower to allow more room for his stomach. “You got any questions for me?”

You thought for a moment about what Will had said. Frankie liked food and he liked pretty things.

“Come on, honey… you gotta have some questions rattling around in that pretty head of yours.”, he said lowly as you watched his heavy middle move up and down with each breath. You smiled shyly, enjoying his use of the word pretty when he spoke to you; did it mean he liked you?

“Well, I was wondering, Mr. Morales…”, you spoke sweetly as you played with the hem of your skirt and lifted it slightly, seeing his eyes shirt to watch your fingers. “What’s your favourite dessert?”

A low grumble came from his chest as his eyes darkened, and he grinned.

“I like a lot of things, baby.”, he growled, his hand moving up your thigh, higher than the hem of your dress, and he gripped it, forcing your legs to become uncrossed.

“I like cake… pie… ice cream… pastries, chocolate, macarons, not picky about dessert, baby. But you know what my favourite is?”

You stared at him, eyes wide and your core trembling, and you shook your head. He moved both his hands in front of him on the desk to heave himself out of the chair and he stood between your parted legs. His face came close enough that his nose touched yours and he ghosted his mouth over your lips.

“Sweet… soft… warm… pussy.”

He didn’t kiss you but the hand that wasn’t bracing him above you pushed between your legs and moved your panties to the side. Frankie groaned when he felt how wet you were, and a self-satisfied smirk grew on his face as you whimpered.

He traced his middle finger through your folds, bringing your slick up to your clit as he circled it. Every small whine, pant or whimper was met with him nodding and saying “yeah” or “uh-huh, baby” under his breath in response.

“You want more, pretty baby?”, he cooed, nuzzling his nose against yours. The gentle act had you almost come right there, but your made your self nod.

“Yeah-yes, please… please, Mr. Morales!”, you whined breathily.

He removed his hand and gripped your panties, pulling them down and off you, before he pushed you down and shoved your skirt up. He pushed one of his thick fingers into you and pumped in and out while the other hand pushed down his belt and jeans to give his belly further room before it moved to hold your hip.

“Jesus, you’re pretty… but you look so much prettier like this, baby… fuck, you needed this, huh?... too fucking tight for your own good.”

“Please… please more… more, Mr. Morales!”, you whined.

He added another finger and pushed in deeper with each pump, making the wet, squelching noises obscener.

“So fucking wet… just for me, right?”, he said darkly before growling, “No one else touches you, right?”

“No… no one else… only you, Mr. Morales.”

“That’s fucking right… just me… you’re mine…”, he grunted, adding a third finger harshly.

You yelped out, trying to move away but his hand on your hip held you firmly in place and his face was dark with his brows crossed and his mouth twisted in a frown.

From out in the hallway, Pope could hear sounds. It only took a minute of his ear up against the wall to figure out what Frankie was doing to you. He grinned devilishly and hurried down to the rec room to tell Benny. He couldn’t wait to see that blond shit’s face when he told him that Frankie was finger fucking you over his desk.

“You’ll fucking take what I give you, baby… be a good girl…”, he growled, finally moving him thumb to rub circles around your clit, bringing you some relief. “That’s it… I’ll make it feel so good for you, but you gotta behave… there you go… that’s it… feels good now, baby?”

“God!... fuck, yes, Frankie!”, you cried out, not even realizing what you’d said until his fingers were ripped out of you, and he grabbed your jaw with his slicked up hand.

“You don’t call me that.”, he snarled, his lip curling in a menacing sneer. “Don’t you ever fucking call me that! You only get that privilege if I fuck you in my fucking bed!”

You wanted to beg his forgiveness, explain it was a mistake, tell him he didn’t have to finish you off, but your voice was caught in the lump in your throat. Your eyes were starting to tear up and you chided yourself at being so sensitive.

He gripped your face tighter, and barked, “Do you understand?!”

You swallowed hard and nodded, and he shoves your face away from his, slumping into the office chair.

“Get the fuck out of here.”, he snarled as he wiped his fingers on his napkin.

You trembled looking at him, knowing if you left, you were back at the mercy of his temper. You had to prove you belonged here with him, that you were useful to him.

You slid off the desk and got on your knees, crawling towards him. Once between his open legs, you placed your hands on his thighs and lightly rubbed them.

“The fuck do you think you’re doing?”, he growled in a warning tone.

“Apologizing, Mr. Morales.”, you said softly, slowly moving your hands to his belt buckle, giving him ample time to stop you. But he didn’t.

With a little more effort due to his belly heavily pushing against it, you unbuckled and opened his belt and jeans. Your eyes stayed on his as he lifted his hips a bit and you pulled his jeans down, and then you saw the impressive tent in his boxer shorts, topped with a wet patch from precum.

“I’m really sorry, Mr. Morales.”, you cooed, reaching up and gently tugging on his covered erection.

“Bet you are, baby…”, he grunted and sucked in a breath. “Go on… show me how sorry you are.”

You pulled the fabric down and released his cock, slapping up against his belly, and he hissed as the cool air hit it.

Frankie figured he’s get a hand job out of you and call it a night, but when you gripped his cock and opened your mouth and swirled your tongue around the tip, his jaw slacked and his eyes widened.

“Fuck… pretty baby…”

You gave the tip a few kitten licks and said before taking his length down your throat:

“I’m sorry, Mr. Morales.”

--------<3---------

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justinspoliticalcorner · 7 months ago

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Mark Sumner at Daily Kos:

For the past week, Elon Musk has repeatedly commented about buying MSNBC. At the same time, Musk accused the news outlet of peddling "puerile propaganda" and derided MSNBC's ratings, which have—as might be expected—dropped since the election. The result has been a string of comments on Twitter and Fox News in which Trump supporters chortle over the thought of replacing Rachel Maddow with Joe Rogan and exult in the distress they believe Musk's comments must be generating on the left. Many of Musk's "jokes," and those of toadies like Rogan, have been accompanied by the kind of homophobic, racist, or misogynist memes that have come to dominate Twitter since Musk laid down $44 billion to destroy that platform. But even as Musk and his social media pals laugh, no one should consider this a farce. It's a threat. And it's not just a threat against MSNBC. Musk is signaling that he has the limitless resources and unchecked power to purchase and shutter any outlet he believes represents a threat to Donald Trump or the incoming array of kleptocrats. He can not only silence perceived critics, he can do it on a whim.

What Musk is suggesting is known as "media capture," and it's a common practice among authoritarian governments everywhere. Whether it's a long series of Russian journalists falling from windows, or Victor Orbán building a media empire that controls every scrap of news reaching the citizens of Hungary, a hallmark of authoritarian governments is that they do not tolerate independent reporting. One of the first and most obvious messages to emerge in the wake of the election earlier this month was just how uninformed and misinformed many American voters already are. In post-election interviews, many voters falsely attributed policies advocated by Kamala Harris to Trump. The policies that Trump actually ran on, from inflationary tariffs to mass deportations to the destruction of the legal system, were either missed altogether or dismissed as inconsequential political rhetoric. The reason for that is simple enough: While the right has an effective media force at every level, America has no progressive media.

When people are in their cars, radio pundits push a constant stream of fearmongering and hatred. Rush Limbaugh may have been one of the first of these toxic voices in America's ear, but he's the soul of moderation compared to many that now fill the airwaves. When people are in their homes, right-wing propaganda is always available. It's not just Fox News, Newsmax, Real America's Voice, Right Side Broadcasting Network, and One America News Network. It's The 700 Club, Great American Family, and dozens of syndicated pundits. In many cases, these pundits pop up during news programs that are nominally on NBC, ABC, or CBS stations as right-wing owners like Sinclair Broadcasting insert commentary into what are supposedly factual news programs.

When people are waiting for their tires to be changed, their teeth to be cleaned, or their meal to be prepared, there's a good chance that if there's any news programming available at all, it's a right-wing broadcast backing Trump, sowing suspicion about "others," and offering up good old American solutions couched in racism and violence. On the left, there is effectively no alternative. Some late-night comedians are willing to take Trump on, and a handful of cable programs mingle comedy with a dose of news content. However, there is no progressive news platform in the United States. Trump supporters may be quick to deride the traditional "big three" outlets, PBS, MSNBC, CNN, The New York Times, and The Washington Post as if they are all the products of Karl Marx, but all of these outlets—with the exceptions of a few programs of commentary and a scattering of editorial columns—still hold to a broken concept of "balanced" coverage, even when that means leaving lies unchallenged. If anything these outlets skew distinctly right just because they are so concerned about being seen as favoring the left. Over the last decade the extent to which these outlets have bent over backward to avoid being critical of the right, while joyfully leaping on any perceived weakness of the left, has become startlingly obvious.

[...]

Here are a few random imaginary headlines that don't require more than a dime-store crystal ball.

Fox News and Newsmax exclusively allowed on military bases

White House press conferences remove journalists under investigation for "treason"

FCC moves to award Starlink nationwide contract for providing rural broadband, declares it will save billions

CNN goes dark following dispute with regulators

Congress opens investigation into censorship on BlueSky as FCC passes new rules against blocking or banning users

U.S. government agencies to use only social media platforms certified "free"

Congress insists that Sesame Street include more Christian content

None of these things have happened. Don't think for a moment that they can't. Or won't. The best move for any of the outlets not already firmly captured by the right is simply this: Report clearly. Stop trying to be fair to people who have no interest in being fair, or honest, or anything less than hateful. America needs an opposition media. It needs one quickly. Unfortunately, there are no signs of that opposition emerging. Musk may be threatening to buy MSNBC, but in the meantime, the remainder of the media is signaling that they don't need to be captured — because they are willing to capitulate.

Mark Sumner wrote on Daily Kos that the Hungarian-style media capture of outlets perceived as not 100% deferential to MAGA propaganda to turn them into megaphones of distortions as a result of Donald Trump's 2nd win is an attack on the freedoms we cherish.

See Also:

Uncharted Blue: Musk's threat to buy MSNBC is no joke

#Censorship #Media #Media Ownership #Media Capture #Trump Administration II #Elon Musk #Authoritarianism #Sanewashing #2024 Presidential Election #2024 Elections #Brendan Carr #FCC #Bluesky #PBS #NPR #Propaganda #War On The Press

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markablesolutions · 11 days ago

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tsreviews · 1 year ago

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ahmedmootaz · 1 year ago

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Hey Ahmed! Bit of a weird ask this time around. I was thinking about my current circumstances and was wondering about silly scenarios with the AiP cast. If X went to get a supermarket going with Ayin, would it succeed in the city? Ignoring the head's taboos regarding X, they could sell scientific products like a modified de-ager, or use their own singularity (I believe L corp's was making figments of the mind reality?) to create marketable goods. What do you think they'd sell? And to who?

Dear hncdhnmfr,

Oooh, a new type of question! How pleasant, I always enjoy these asks. As always, it's a pleasure to see your asks!

As for your question, I think that X and Ayin would've probably tried to get a supermarket going in one of three scenarios: 1) They were expelled out of the Library and needed a way to survive and they found a method to conceal X's nature from the Head. 2) They needed a way to infiltrate the City from the Outskirts and a supermarket where people from all walks of like entered and bought their stuff was a good solution. 3) After the hypothetical operation by Angela to enter the City and defeat the Head succeeds, they need some method of gaining their livelihood. Assuming, of course, they don't get rich as celebrities who saved the City.

However, I think your ask pertains more to the first two scenarios, considering the Head is around and they need to find a workaround for X, or Ayin, to not be hunted down, and I honestly think that despite how 'normal' it may seem, their supermarket will be...

...A regular supermarket. Think about it; after years and decades of insane plans and inventions that break the boundaries of what was possible, I think the two of them would be more than content running a regular supermarket with food, cleaning supplies, maybe some electronics here and there and a repair section for electrical and electronic appliances...It would be calm, it would be quiet, and it would be exactly the sort of the thing they need after leading such hectic lives.

Alternatively, it could be the only thing they can run while attempting to cope with the amount of stress they're going through in order to keep up whatever workaround they found to hide X's clone nature and it's the only thing their limited budget would allow them to run. The amount of people who would need to shop their would allow them to form connections with all sorts of Fixers, Syndicates, etc. so it would be a good way to collect intelligence in the second scenario.

But of course, considering who we're talking about, it can't be too normal. I'm sure there will be some inventions here and there as you said. Maybe they'd even have a 'Invention of the Day/Week' section where they'd present toned-down inventions that, while making like easier, don't radically alter the fabric of reality.

For example, I think that, as you said, they might sell a miniature De-Ager that doesn't also wipe out the memory of the user, unlike what happened in AiP, which can be used to remove wrinkles and perhaps scars form the body, though it doesn't reverse ageing as a whole, just the physical aspects it leaves on the body. Maybe they'd also sell dream-catchers that materialise the dreams people have into holographic versions which can be later observed at any time, very useful for composers and writers, though not being able to actually materialise them unlike LC technology. Maybe they'd also be able to create some self-defence equipment to help residents against Sweepers invading their homes or create homing saws fired from a dedicated gun that aims at the Sweepers' vital cords, etc.

Overall, they'd create very useful but not overly spectacular items that can help common folk and Fixer and Syndicates alike, though they'd likely spend weeks if not months thinking of all of the ways they could be exploited for bad and attempt to patch out any misuse methods that would render their otherwise useful inventions into tools that aid in the perpetuation of the City's cycle.

As to who they'd sell it to...I think they'd be very specific about who they sell their inventions to. I mentioned Syndicates before, but those will get the inventions that make life easier, not aid the user or incapacitate the user's targets. They cannot refuse to sell their supermarket goods to anyone, otherwise that might earn them enemies or suspicions, but they'd only give the inventions to people who they deem morally upright...at least, whatever morally upright means in the City. I also believe they'll keep tracking devices on their gizmos and gadgets to see if they were stolen or otherwise being misused.

Again, thank you for the fun ask, hncdhnmfr, and I hope I managed to satisfy your curiosity! Until next time, be well, take care, and see ya'!

#lobotomy corporation #library of ruina #ask #my writing #ayin #manager x

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dorminchu · 1 year ago

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The Gentle Hum of Anxiety, Chapter Two

Read Chapter One here!

Notes:

Surprise! Here's another chapter, because I had an Eureka moment with Madeleine's knowledge of the Safin family & Safin pilfering from Madeleine's candy-bowl.

Alone in her apartment, Madeleine cuts the lights and lays in bed, staring up at the ceiling. Five years under the pseudonym 'Swann' rendered moot, just like that. Pulling up roots is always a thankless process, but she'll have to disappear sooner than later. Dye her hair. Pop up in a different country inside of a month. Life will resume its fragile stability, with or without her father's intervention. That's the short-term solution. Its alternative only ever comes true in dreams.

Anyone on a first-name basis with the soon-to-be erased Madeleine Swann is in the crosshairs. Friends kept at arm's distance will speculate for a while on her abrupt disappearance. Emails and cards sent to her last known address have a habit of turning up fruitless. But they will have other people to fill the shallow mould left in her wake. A woman with her credentials and connections can find a job most anywhere.

She rolls onto her back, but doesn't close her eyes. The porcelain mask, safe its carved box, sits on the end-table next to the recorder. She's always been more comfortable away from home. Now she is taking work home with her, just like her father and his endless stacks of bound folders and locked cabinets.

This, of course, is an extreme case, and cannot be counted as a slip of judgement. She cannot stomach the comparison, nor the idea of Lyutsifer Safin invading her office twice, only to take back this icon.

Since she was born, and before that, her father has kept records. Men he'd slain personally or in his stead, crossed, worked for when SPECTRE was operating under the name QUANTUM. She's looked over the files, in between holidays and schooling, enough times to recall a handful of names.

A week after leaving Nittedal, while he was planning her mother's funeral, her father pulled her aside to explain.

The Safin family were chemists, working on Blofeld's payroll up until the fall of the Soviet Union. Sometime in the early 'aughts the family's contract was terminated. Lyutsifer, the sole survivor and inheritor of his father's syndicate, was rendered comatose, hospitalised. The doctors chalked the cause of death up to food poisoning and sealed the case.

Madeleine always has had the feeling there was more to it than that, but as a child, she contented herself in a perpetual state of faux-indifference.

There is no reason to start looking deeper now. She has survived on account of her carefully curated ignorance. It is the only way she can stomach her own reflection.

She sits up. Crosses the room, barefoot. Flicks a switch; the lights snap on. Squinting, she makes her way over to the end-table and opens the drawer. She keeps a notebook and recorder in her desk at the Hoffler Klinik, and one in her flat, for nights such as this. She reaches for the recorder. Clicks it on, listening.

Each time his ragged voice breaks through tinny speakers, she strains to discern his words: "...saving someone's life connects you to them forever, the same as taking it. They belong to you."

The hitman in the mask is a creature without humanity. The man beneath permits less room for a childhood monster's nomenclature, or aggrandisment.

Her thumb pushes the stop button. She takes the pen and writes:

Affected by loss. A chasm left in absence of a family he can never fill.

She resumes the recording. Hits the button before the clatter of the lid causes the audio to peak. To hear her own voice succumb to fear is something she cannot stomach. Not while the shock is fresh.

She writes: Finds amusement at others' expense. Favors control. Eager to instruct me. (foxgloves, memory bo—

Ink slashes across paper.

Madeleine's body shudders on the exhale.

Inhale, hesitance.

Exhale, dragging.

She turns the page. Writes:

Reserved but not passive. Deeply invested in father's work. Exhibits sense of entitlement/ownership exacerbated by personal loss. Pause, to look over what she's written, not because of her unsteady hand. She adds, Memory box — mine? His own?

A man who brought with him the relic of a botched hit. If he would pursue the family into Nittendal, why not track down her father afterwards?

She's never asked, point-blank, if her father had anything to do with what happened that day. Her parents were closer to Madeleine, individually, than they were to each other. Her mother stopped putting up that front after Madeleine was old enough to start walking to school unaccompanied.

It wouldn't be the first time her father put his occupation before the well-being of his progeny. Men like her father, like Lyutsifer, operate on the principle of an eye for an eye, tooth for a tooth. Beneath all the pretty words and platitudes are brutes in well-tailored suit jackets. She is unfortunate enough to inherit the aftermath. Unlike her mother, she has no vices with which to control her aside from an empty heart.

It stands to reason, then, that Safin's love for his father could have blinded him to a similar truth. His father put business before family, and it simply caught up to him in the end. Just like maman. In lieu of self-reflection, he has fixated on the girl he spared for seventeen years.

She looks back at what she wrote: Displeased at the idea of returning for following appointment, or at my lack of reaction to the mask? She strikes it out, and writes below it:

Entrenched within his own designs of heroism. The line between vengeance and justice has become irresolute. To enable such a delusion would be to the detriment of his recovery. Unable to determine at this time whether his emotional responses are feigned or stem from cognitive dissonance. Will require further analysis.

Next morning, she gets to her office an hour after the building opens its doors. Most of the other clinicians are genteel to her face. But there's always bound to be speculation about Madeleine’s certifications and clincial, aloof disposition. Twenty four is awfully young to become an MD. In five years, she'll have enough time and money to settle down and less to fret about, or so goes the canned line.

She's done what she can to make her clients feel safe and respected within her office. She's on amiable terms with her coworkers. Shouldn't that be enough?

"You're up late," Sophia says from her desk. "Did you get some sleep?"

Madeleine hums. "Just enough."

"Your first client won't be here for another hour. If you don't take a break every so often you're going to kill yourself."

Hand poised on the knob, Madeleine forces herself to smile. It is not requited. "Idle hands, you know? I really need to get to—"

"—Safin, isn't it?" Madeleine turns the knob, but doesn't push the door open. "He dropped by earlier." Sophia gestures to the desk. "Left you these."

On the desk is a small boquet. White chrysanthemums. Madeleine hadn't noticed. She's passed by Sophia's desk so many times it has simply become part of the background. This is the last thing she intends to discuss, least of all with anyone at work.

If that's asking too much, perhaps it's time to look for a different secretary or hell, a new job. As if it would make a difference. He'll keep doing this until the only place she can run to is an early grave.

She looks at Sophia, busy with her mortage and children going off to university and issues befitting of an easy, uninteresting life. Madeleine has never taken the time to know her more intimately than small-talk. Sophia might sense something is amiss, but never grasp the heart of Doctor Swann's troubles beyond youthful ennui and poor taste in men.

"I see," says Madeleine tartly. "I'll set them in the vase."

Sophia peers at her from the top of the paper. "Is everything all right?"

"Yes. Thank you."

The door closes behind her. Madeleine pitches them in the rubbish bin.

When he steps through the door, his eyes wander to the framed icon. If he thinks anything of it, he doesn't elaborate. He takes a seat. “You look tired.”

Madeleine says, “I’ve had a long day of work.” His eyes fall on the vase, empty. "I'm afraid I am allergic." A verifiable lie. If he is as attentive as he's letting on, she'll soon find out.

Rather than call her bluff, he has the gall to look empathetic. "Do you realize why I have selected you, Dr Swann?"

Her carefully constructed veneer of professionalism falters. She cannot give him an inch. “I do not.”

You resent the very nature of my survival, and what it signifies. If you're seeking to redeem yourself, that is not possible.

"Your mother was buried in Döbling Cemetery, in Vienna. It's a beautiful cemetery." Two divides; anger and terror, freezing her in place. It is as if he has reached across the desk and slapped her. Her eyes well up. She sucks in a slow breath through her nose and exhales, quietly, as he continues: "You stopped sending flowers."

Her mother's resting place, a simple headstone, wedged between others. When her father's lease on the grave in ran out, Madeleine saw no reason to continue ordering flowers. She'd only done it for his sake, not that he had asked her to. He was too pride to admit such a mistake. It would be to acknowledge his own weakness in front of her, something beyond his capabilities.

“These games,” she says, repulsed by the slight catch in her voice, “the mask, these questions. It’s all a little rote, I think.”

Safin frowns. "The flowers I sent have a meaning." He meets her eyes. "A token of grief. Bereavement and comfort."

Perhaps the only way to get to the heart of his affliction is to let him talk. There is no harm in it, while she catches her bearings. She bites her tongue and holds his gaze.

"The first year, purple lilac — mourning — and white clover — think of me. White roses —" a knowing look that makes her want to throw something "— devotion, silence, reverence for the dead. Peonies and stargazer lilies — for sympathy. Blue delphinium for dignity. Statice for remembrance. Last year, blue hydrangeas — regret, a want of forgiveness."

"I was expecting something more drastic than flowers," Madeleine finds her voice. It is cold and carefully polite.

He inclines his head. "There is no need. We already understand one another." His gaze does not avert, the eyes not quite dead. Whatever humanity was once there has been snuffed out and leaves only the darker undercurrent of a sentiment best left unspoken.

"What makes you think I would understand you?"

His mouth curls. Bile in her throat. "Both of us, born into organised crime. Marred by tragedy."

"You're speculating."

"You asked me to explain myself." His eyes fall to the glass bowl, brimming with pink candies. A psychiatrist's inside joke. The average patient that crosses her door will only see the vessel, the candy, no further than the confines of his own mind. This room has been curated with care.

Wetting the pad of his forefinger, he reaches into the bowl. The candy is waxy, a little sweet. The kind of thing that's too boring to eat with any gusto.

A flicker of repulsion, on the cusp of something else she fails to conceal, shifts into rigid comprehension. When he smiles, her stomach twists upon itself.

"I want to ensure," he says, "there is no misunderstanding between us. Thank you for your time."

In his hands, the mask is little more than a tool to inspire fear. She hangs it on her wall as a declaration of war, with a proper frame. It looms over her office wall, the spiderweb cracks in the porcelain giving the right eye a hollowed visage. A constant reminder of what she is undertaking. What she must never become, nor indulge in. She is asked, Where did you get that? myriad times, and Madeleine smiles flatly and says, a gift from a client, and that's the end of it.

a/n: Third time I've rewatched NTtD, and the greater significance of the candy-bowl sailed over my head completely until a commentator (I think it was on youtube or tumblr) pointed out its Freudian shape and, uh, potential for symbolism. After a good deal of snickering (yes, I'm very mature) I stopped to consider. If the idea was to depict Safin's salacious, quietly unhinged fixation with Madeleine (well, more so the power he assumes he has over her), well, I think the screenwriters didn't let him get weird ENOUGH. The fic probably won't go above a heavy-T to light-M, but it certainly flirts on the borderline.

#nttd #no time to die #canon divergent au #lyutsifer safin #madeleine swann #I haven't seen enough brian depalma films to indicate his works as a frame of reference #but things are going to get psychosexual and fucked up! >:D

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nobuverse · 10 months ago

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v; Project Moon ( Nobukatsu )

Content warning: Child abuse + The standard death/gore/dark topics that come with Project Moon stuff. Read at your own risk.

Firstborn son, second child of the current generation of the Oda clan : one of the oldest subsidiaries serving under the Thumb. Heir to the legacy of this crime syndicate, which terrorized the backstreets into what little order they were forced to have.

No matter what, he could never imagine himself to fulfill the role he was destined to hold. Where father wanted to him to have been a leader, he instead only had a coward.

Nobukatsu was terrified of this place - of this prison he was expected to call a home. Sit up straight or your spine might be broken. Lack courtesy in your words and they might cut off your tongue. Speak out of turn and they might shoot off your jaw.

All of this he'd seen. All of this, he knew it could happen to him someday.

Escape. There had to be a way out.

In the end, it was sister who found the solution: an energy production singularity looking for new workers. Lobotomy corporation. He didn't ask questions for why a wing was so willing to take in two children of the Thumb. He wanted this to be their happy ending.

But that would never come to be. That dream was shattered when he found his older sister's head in the hallway floor - severed clean from her body.

He went mad. He turned his gun against the clerks, against his allies. His screams and cries would echo through the hall until he was finally put out of his misery, a blade slicing his upper torso in half.

....

Then - by who's generosity was it that he should get a second chance? It hardly feels deserving for him to be among his revived co-workers, his soul bound to the book that now rested in the Library of Ruina.

..If he's lucky, maybe this could be their happy ending after all. At the very least, he has the rest of eternity to figure it out.

** Unless plotted otherwise, Nobukatsu will by default be part of the floor of Language.

#i like how im basically telling the same story for the first half #but because its katsu narrating the tone is very different #Nobunaga's is filled with spite this is just mostly terror #v; project moon #The Useless Brother [ Nobukatsu ]

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satoshi-mochida · 1 year ago

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The Legend of Heroes: Kai no Kiseki – Farewell, O Zemuria web commercial; more characters and locations detailed

From Gematsu

Following its announcement in Weekly Famitsu, Falcom has officially announced that The Legend of Heroes: Kai no Kiseki – Farewell, O Zemuria will launch for PlayStation 5 and PlayStation 4 on September 26 in Japan, as well as released a one-minute web commercial, an overview of the limited edition, and new information and screenshots on the game’s characters and locations.

Here is the web commercial:

youtube

Get the new details below.

■ Release Date and Platforms

The Legend of Heroes: Kai no Kiseki – Farewell, O Zemuria will launch for PlayStation 5 and PlayStation 4 on September 26, 20024 in Japan for 8,000 yen (8,800 yen with tax).

■ Limited Edition

The Legend of Heroes: Kai no Kiseki – Farewell, O Zemuria Limited Edition is priced at 10,500 yen (11,550 yen with tax) and includes a number of special items you will not be able to find elsewhere, all packaged inside a special case.

The Game – A copy of The Legend of Heroes: Kai no Kiseki – Farewell, O Zemuria for PlayStation 5 or PlayStation 4

The Legend of Heroes: Kai no Kiseki – Farewell, O Zemuria Original Soundtrack mini – A limited edition soundtrack that includes a selection of memorable songs from the game.

“Kiseki 20th” Metallic Card Collection 2004 to 2024 – A metal card with a beautiful visual to commemorate the 20th anniversary of the Trails (Kiseki) series. This is being included as a highly limited collector’s item.

“Kiseki 20th Anniversary” Memorial Pin – A memorial pin themed after the Trails (Kiseki) series’ 20th anniversary logo. This includes a card with a serial number.

Downloadable Content "Zemuria Background Music Collection" – A special selection of background music featuring tracks from throughout the Trails series—from The Legend of Heroes: Trails in the Sky through The Legend of Heroes: Trails Through Daybreak. These tracks can be swapped as the background music for some parts of the game.

■ First-Print / Pre-Order Bonus

First-print and pre-order copies of The Legend of Heroes: Kai no Kiseki – Farewell, O Zemuria will include costume download content for Rean Schwarzer, which allows players to change him into his Thors Military Academy Branch Campus instructor uniform.

(This pre-order bonus applies to both physical and digital copies.)

■ Characters

Feri Al-Fayed (voiced by Yui Ogura)

Age: 14

“Space…!? Can humans really go to such a place!?”

A young bracer who has been trained in the ways of the Khurga Warriors Clan, a high-ranked and traditional bracer group, from a young age. Her actual name is Ferrida. She started working at Van’s Arkride Solutions when an incident involving a rival bracer group occurred, and now she also attends a Sunday school operated by Middle-Eastern temple groups. When the incident of early 1209 occurred in the Republic capital, she was manipulated into seeing Van as an enemy, but she managed to overcome it. She seems to have grown even more, becoming 14 years old, or the age of maturity in Khurga.

Aaron Wei (voiced by Yuma Uchida)

Age: 20

“I won’t be tied by my past or present. I will walk my own path.”

A playboy infamous within the Republic’s Eastern Quarter. He’s the leader of the hot-headed group of youngsters. He is trained in the Gekka style swordsmanship and martial arts, but also takes on female roles when performing in Eastern theater. With his free-spirited ways, he is often called “the Prodigy of Langport” or “the Little Conqueror of Luozhou.” He almost had his soul taken over due to his nature of being a reincarnation of Taikun, a demonic man who rules over the Eastern Quarter, but managed to regain self-control. He is currently living under the roof of Arkride Solutions in order to reevaluate himself and Heiyue, the syndicate who tried to use him.

Risette Twinings (voiced by Yui Ishikawa)

Age: 21

“That is my pride as a service concierge—but above that, that is my pride as an employee.”

A service concierge from Marduk Total Security Company, whose cool looks and soft demeanor stand out. Despite her neat and tidy appearance, she has extraordinary fighting skills, and when pit against them, is able to hold her own against even the prodigy Aaron and the bracer Feri. After a series of incidents involving Genesis, she has been assigned to Arkride Solutions. She supports Van and the other members of the office in a wide range of tasks with her service concierge skills. She actually lost most of her actual body in a certain incident in the past, and now uses Marduk prosthetics to replace them.

Quatre Salision (voiced by Mutsumi Tamura)

Age: 16

“I’m sure Yang and Esmeray can take action now, so I’m just going to do things my way—the Arkride Solutions way.”

A masters student at the Republic’s Basel Institute of Science, as well as a young researcher involved in a project at general technology manufacturer Verne Company. He was born into an unusual environment, but was taken under the wing of Professor Hamilton at a very young age, who he often considers to be like his grandmother, and began his walk on the path of becoming a researcher. He joined Arkride Solutions after the techno-crisis that occurred in the Republic. He supports the group with his technical skills and strives every day to achieve Professor Hamiltion’s ideals to use “use technology for the greater good.”

Judith Lanster (voiced by Youko Hikasa)

Age: 23

“Reveal the darkness, and defeat the evil—I’ll show you what Grimcat the Phantom Thief is all about!”

A top actress in the orbal cinema world, captivating audiences with her natural talent and unrelenting effort. She has a strong sense of justice to oppose any evil head-on, but often makes mistakes due to her clumsiness. She has a healthy rivalry with younger fellow actress Nina, but also a relationship of trust as strong friends. While she leads the glamorous life of an actress, she also acts as Grimcat the Phantom Thief, a moniker she inherited from her grandmother. She often targets corrupt corporations and politicians.

■ Settings / Keywords

Anchorville

A countryside city located between the old capital Oracion and the current capital of Calvard, Edith. It acts as a trading hub between the two cities and many major companies have branches here. While it lacks any major spectacles, it has a reputation for being a calm and comfortable city to live in amongst citizens of the Republic.

La Nuit de Chat Noir

An Anchorville cafe and bakery owned by the Lanster family. It is currently managed by Chloe, the mother of movie actress Judith and former generation of Grimcat. Despite being run by an former superstar artist, it is close with its customers and has a reputation among locals as a relaxing hangout spot.

Anchorville General Hospital

A large hospital in Anchorville. It is equipped with the latest in cutting-edge medical equipment, so quite a few people come a long way for treatments and examinations.

If you missed our previous coverage, read more about the game’s characters, story, and new battle system elements here.

View the screenshots at the gallery.

#The Legend of Heroes: Kai no Kiseki: Farewell O Zemuria #The Legend of Heroes: Kai no Kiseki #Kai no Kiseki #Farewell O Zemuria #The Legend of Heroes #Trails series #Falcom #Gematsu

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dheerajpansare · 1 year ago

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At Arkentech Solutions, we specialize in delivering cutting-edge B2B lead generation and marketing services. Our expertise spans across demand generation, content syndication, account-based marketing, and more. By leveraging data-driven strategies and innovative technology, we help businesses connect with high-quality leads and drive significant revenue growth. Our dedicated team ensures personalized service, working closely with clients to understand their unique needs and deliver tailored solutions. Choose Arkentech Solutions for a partner committed to your success.

#b2b #b2b lead generation #b2bmarketing #b2b services #lead generation #b2bsales

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thinkermediagroup · 1 year ago

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Common Lead Generation Challenges and How to Solve Them

Lead generation is a critical activity for nearly all businesses, serving as the lifeline to continuous sales growth and market expansion. However, it's a complex process fraught with numerous challenges. In this post, we'll explore some of the most common lead generation challenges and offer practical solutions to help businesses optimize their lead generation solution.

Challenge 1: Generating High-Quality Leads

The Problem: Many businesses struggle with not just generating any leads, but generating leads that are actually likely to convert into paying customers. High-quality leads are those that are genuinely interested in what you offer and are at or near the decision stage in the buying process.

The Solution: To improve lead quality, focus on targeting and personalization. Use detailed buyer personas to better understand and target your ideal customer. Enhance your content strategy to address specific customer needs and stages in the buying journey. Utilize lead scoring systems to prioritize leads based on their engagement and demographic information to better align with your ideal customer profile.

Challenge 2: Ineffective Lead Capture

The Problem: Attracting visitors to your site is one thing, but capturing their information is another. Many businesses see high traffic but low conversion rates because their lead capture strategies aren’t effective.

The Solution: Optimize your website and landing pages for conversions. Ensure that forms are simple and easy to fill out, use compelling calls-to-action (CTAs), and offer value through high-quality content offers like ebooks, webinars, or free trials. Test different elements on your pages (A/B testing) to see what works best for your audience.

Challenge 3: Aligning Sales and Marketing

The Problem: Misalignment between sales and marketing teams can lead to poor handling of leads and lost opportunities. If both teams aren’t on the same page regarding what constitutes a qualified lead, efforts can be wasted.

The Solution: Establish a Service Level Agreement (SLA) between sales and marketing to define what each team expects from the other regarding lead generation, handling, and follow-up. Regular meetings and shared dashboards can keep both teams updated on progress and performance, fostering a unified approach.

Challenge 4: Maintaining Lead Engagement

The Problem: Keeping potential customers engaged throughout the lead nurturing process is challenging, especially with increasing competition and shrinking attention spans.

The Solution: Develop a robust lead nurturing strategy that includes personalized email marketing, retargeting campaigns, and interactive content. Segment your email lists to tailor the messaging according to the lead’s stage in the buying process and past interactions with your brand.

Challenge 5: Utilizing Data Effectively

The Problem: Data is vital for effective lead generation, but many businesses struggle to capture, analyze, and act on the data they collect. This can result in missed opportunities and inefficient strategies.

The Solution: Invest in CRM and marketing automation tools that help collect data and provide insights into lead behavior and campaign performance. Use this data to refine your targeting, personalize your communications, and improve overall campaign performance.

Challenge 6: Budget Constraints

The Problem: Particularly for small businesses, there may be significant budget constraints that limit the scope of lead generation campaigns.

The Solution: Focus on cost-effective lead generation strategies such as content marketing, SEO, and social media engagement. Additionally, leverage organic strategies like referral programs and partnerships with other businesses to extend your reach without significant financial investment.

Challenge 7: Adapting to Changing Consumer Behaviors

The Problem: Consumer behaviors and preferences change rapidly, and a strategy that worked well one year might not be effective the next.

The Solution: Stay flexible and keep informed about industry trends and consumer behavior changes. Regularly review and adjust your marketing strategies to ensure they align with current best practices and audience preferences. Use customer feedback and analytics to guide these adjustments.

Challenge 8: Lack of Expertise

The Problem: Some businesses may not have the in-house expertise required to implement effective lead generation strategies.

The Solution: Consider outsourcing elements of your lead generation process to agencies or hiring freelancers with specific expertise in areas like SEO, content marketing, or data analysis. This can provide you with advanced skills and insights without the need for long-term commitments.

Conclusion

Bant lead generation will always be accompanied by challenges, but with a proactive approach and the willingness to adapt, these obstacles can be transformed into opportunities for growth. By understanding these common issues and implementing the suggested solutions, businesses can improve their lead generation efforts, resulting in better lead quality, improved conversion rates, and ultimately, increased revenue. Focus on continuous improvement and stay attuned to both your data and your market to maintain a competitive edge in your lead generation strategies.

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llitchilitchi · 2 years ago

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Ako je možné, že aj po všetkom tom scrollovaní tvojho blogu stále nachádzam nové veci? Je chyba vo mne?

So, I just discovered (or re-discovered? I could swear I saw that art before) the holy grail au and I'm starving for more content. Is there anything you could spare me? 🥺

pravdepodobne je to len v tom obrovskom objeme vecí čo som za tie roky postla, tento blog mám od zimy 2020/2021 aj keď som ho poriadne začala používať len pred asi rokom

! english starts here ! warnings for: violence, abuse, torture and all the stuff related to prison arc and its aftereffects, nonconsensual drug use, overall fuckedupness

as of Holy Grail AU, I don't really know how much there is to share save for what has been already said. Aeri is no longer active in the fandom but at some point she mentioned to me privately that she would like to use some of the ideas from the AU in an original story (can't blame her, I do that a lot myself)

I went thru the tag and noticed that we only ever really talked about the first arc of the AU - it was going to be three arcs in total, with the first arc (Cotard's Solution) being centered around the happenings after Dream became Sam's puppet, combining multiple POVs to address what was happening on the SMP and Dream's day-to-day existence. tensions are rising all over and Sam greatly benefits from the death and destruction it brings with the Revive Book coming in handy to keep everyone wrapped around his finger, while Bad slowly grows more and more uneasy with how things are, only sticking around to make sure Dream is safe, or as close to it as he can get. Ant has little care or say in what happens, simply following orders in hopes of one day being on Sam's (or Dream's) good side so he can ask them to revive Red for him. the Syndicate catches wind of Sam's nefarious activities and his growing power, goes investigate and run into Bad who immediately seizes the opportunity and helps them get Dream out of the fortress, which Techno is more than happy to do.

the second arc (Kintsukuroi) then focused on Dream's recovery in the Arctic while the server slowly falls apart, as the Revive Book has gone missing and Sam's grip on power begins to slip. Dream has to slowly regain himself after spending months upon months drugged out of his mind, has to deal with the initial withdrawals and the constant anxiety and panic that all the time in inprisonment has brought him. Bad serves as Techno's informant on what is happening with Sam and Ant joins him soon enough, still hoping to benefit from the help. at some point, Kinoko residents catch wind of things happening in the Arctic and George and Sapnap find Dream hiding in there. both of them have since changed their attitude towards Dream, especially after Sam declared him dead months and months ago, so despite the lingering anger all they feel is relief at him being at least alive. Dream's mostly non-verbal and very cautious of everything and everyone around him. as time goes by and he's in a good enough shape to move around and be his own person, though more docile and way more weak than he used to be, everyone agrees on Dream moving to Kinoko to be with Sapnap and George where he spends his time tending to Karl's library. I don't remember as much of the political machinations that were running parallel to the recovery. some time after Dream's relocation, Quackity comes to Kinoko to speak to his fiancés and instead of finding Karl he runs into Dream. he recognises him almost immediately and draws a weapon and Dream bolts for the exit. a short scuffle follows but Dream manages to get away, making his way towards the dojo where he knows Sapnap is so he can get his help. when Sapnap comes out, Quackity demands Sapnap hands Dream over but Sapnap stands in Quackity's way. Quackity declares it a betrayal on both him and the whole SMP and says that if Sapnap won't cooperate he will have to take the revive book by force, thus starting the last arc of the story.

the third arc (Epitaph) then follows the ensuing conflict between Las Nevadas and Kinoko, which with the tensions across the entire server turns into a much bigger conflict than it initially seemed to be, everyone desperate for the revive book or disgusted by the truth of what happened to Dream behind closed doors and trying to help him get away from the abuse. George, Bad and the Syndicate immediately make plans to get Dream far away from the mainlands to avoid the conflict. Sam, upon learning part of the truth of what happened to his holy grail, drunk on power and paranoid out of his mind takes his anger out on Antfrost whom he discovered to have been involved with the "conspiracy" that took Dream away from him, locking him away in the fortress where he kept Dream earlier. a war breaks out, people die. this arc is the least fleshed out since it's the last part of the story that never was. a few of the key elements of the arc involved Bad freeing Ant and then burning down Sam's seat of power and Ant eventually getting his wish of reuniting with Red. during the conflict, Quackity ends up taking Sapnap's final life but is unable to cope with the guilt. Karl is the one to find Sapnap's body and he drags it thousands of blocks across the server to where Dream and George are hiding. Dream doesn't even have to be asked twice to revive his friend.

I don't remember what the ending was, or if we agreed on a definitive one at all. the story, despite being about the revive book, had Dream be mostly idle through its course and instead focused on the lengths people would go for the power of the book and the eventual destruction the thirst for power would cause.

#asks #midnight-fangirl01 #holy grail au #for anyone confused check the main tag on my blog #a lot of this au is kinda lost media due to aeri deleting her socials that held the few stories and plot outlines that she shared #its been a very long time since we talked about this au orz #I forgot so much #this was also written before we knew that cPunz has access to the book too so thats something that reflects heavily in this #theres also like.... two pages of my sketchbook dedicated to some illustration outlines for this

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