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dxxtruction · 5 years ago

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Tyrell Wellick - Character profile - (sorta an unprofessional psych analysis)

NOTE: I’m not an expert and this is also non-exhaustive of everything I could write about Tyrell. Can’t observe every little thing. This is also super unorganized below the cut I’m sorry.

Words I’d describe Tyrell by: Ambitious, Boastful, Selfish, Controlling, Violent, Impulsive, Emotional, Loyal, Strategist, Enthusiastic, Extroverted, Adaptable, Vain, Desperate, Observant, Insightful, Driven, Fearful, Intelligent, Cunning, Technical, Prepared, Outwardly Friendly, Resourceful, Loathing, Self Loathing, Sometimes Cooperative, Caring, Vulnerable, Fearful, and Influenced.

Psyche: Erratic behavior, attaches own goals into a special person, delusions of grandeur, looks down on and has disregard for many others, has a certain lack of guilt or regard for breaking ethical or personal boundaries, adapts self in order to achieve goals, wearing masks over the more vulnerable and perceived weaker sides of himself, perhaps hiding various amounts of self loathing, maladaptive perfectionism, strong desire for control.

I’ll avoid anything official and say he likely has some form of personality disorder and/or perhaps an attachment disorder.

Tyrell seems to be driven almost entirely by his own ambitions and goals for his life. Those goals change but he continues on doing anything possible to meet those ends. Believing he is destined to have them over others who seek similar ends.

He care’s a lot about his appearance, both in how he looks and in how others perceive him suggesting a need to garner their respect and control perceptions. Perhaps fearing rejection and public humiliation. Feels it necessary to hide himself behind the best of outward appearances. Feeling equally deserving of respect and deeply afraid of losing it. The latter suggesting a point in time where he saw himself associated with certain perceived inferiorities (perhaps his family being poor, his accent, a lack of knowledge or skill, a lack of restraint), that still lingers in him even though he’s tried (relentlessly) to escape them.

Tyrell tries to maintain a look of control and professionalism, something he’s well developed in order to get to where he is. With control, having the upper hand, he believe’s he can not lose. He however cracks under the pressure of perhaps not having control by lashing out and acting on impulse, often violent impulse. Regaining a sense of power over the situation in destructive ways that run counter to what he’s trying to achieve.

There’s hints at a fear of showing weakness and vulnerability suggesting perhaps toxic masculinity and could also be the same fears of rejection and public humiliation. The amount of effort he seems to put into this suggests he fears in some way that he could very well be exposed as a fraud. Tyrells mask is there for a reason and I think that reason is to avoid his fears, of which there are many.

He is aware of many of the masks he wears (but maybe not all of them), and seems to practice and perfect them. He’s a perfectionist: self defeating, even self harming, towards unrealistic goals and expectations of himself, causing undue stress. Tyrell has a hyper-fixation upon inadequacies he sees in both himself and others. This causes quite a lot of black and white, narrow ways of thinking.

Tyrell can also crack and shed off his mask, showing his vulnerable side when alone or when he is feeling weak or defeated. He cries. I think he feels his emotions fairly intensely at all times. Which may contribute to why he tries so hard on maintaining a different sense of himself which is far more collected. Creating distance from how he feels things in order to see himself as more in control. And as always in order to meet his goals. I get a sense of self hatred, a certain level of shame from Tyrell in the ways he seems to cover up who he is from the world. Perhaps from the amount of things he has bottled up.

Despite feeling deserving of his goals, he knows you must work to get the things you want, and so he will resort to ANY means necessary. Boundaries mean nothing when it works towards his goals. Conventionality and reason can be sacrificed if needed. Breaking conventions seems (to me) a last resort measure as Tyrell is proven to be sufficient at getting to where he is through his social and technical skills along with keen professional insights and overall intelligence within his field. He is very eager even without the more harmful ways of getting what he wants. These are all factors which make him appear desirable for high ranking positions within his field, and probably prove to him a sense of higher worth and tangible achievement.

I do want to point out that he is observant of things most people tend to not notice or have foresight on. This quick internal observations lead him towards quick assumptions, making for keen awareness of how others will act, yet he holds strong to the initial judgements he has of people. The skill of reading people seems fairly important if you are to strategize with or against them and Tyrell is always following some type of plan and agenda. While not always in complete control of how he may act or feel he can control and manipulate the direction of his life to the ends he needs. He needs have it planned out for him to feel secure.

While at first glance Tyrell may seem like only self concerning. He seems to have a pattern of attaching his goals in with a loyalty/contract to a specific person who he does them for. This leans towards delusions of grandeur especially with Elliot.

In these relationships there is perhaps also seeking consistent validation from them. Going out of his way to make sure they notice what he’s willing to do for them. Idolizing them and desiring these relationships to succeed in the ways he envisions them to. Likely has fears of his own inadequacy to succeed within the relationships goals, and fears that he could ruin the relationship by not succeeding. Leading to a suppressed but present low self esteem and easy influence over his actions.

He feels a strong need to provide for them, and they provide him with something as well or he wouldn’t show such loyalty. (Ie: Ability to seek the highest ideal of the American dream/Ability to rule the fate of the world). In other words they seem to offer a boosted ego or chance towards something he finds valuable to his personal ambitions. He cares about them but can’t ever shake what drives him.

In a world where he can get anything and impress anyone those who subvert that are incredibly intriguing to him, and it also must be incredibly painful when he starts to develop strong feelings of attachment and they reject him. These people (Joanna and Elliot) are withholding and inconsistent in showing Tyrell that validation he wants. Making him have to chase their approval and respect. Which keeps him interested in continuing to succeed for them, to show off and get their attention. (Ex: Joanna’s gifts, Tyrells insistence on appearing good for Elliot). Winning their approval becomes a part of his core driving ambitions to succeed.

Joanna is the perfect partner to fuel his more worldly ambitions. He wants to provide for her everything and anything which proves they are both successful and victorious in their dreams in life. While Elliot seems more to fuel his delusions of grandeur - he can have ultimate control and power via Elliot’s perceived ultimate power and control. In both instances he wants to share in success, feels this sharing as very intertwined with his life and the direction it needs to go. This intertwining can lead him to accept certain approaches he shouldn’t, but again he’s easy to influence in this position.

I feel Tyrell fears most of all not having control (like many in this show), when feeling this way he tends to act out in anger. Tyrell uses violence often as a means of control, an outlet for his own anger and rage when he senses a lacking of power in a situation. He is also impulsive when angered showing a instinctive pull towards violence when he feels this way. He lacks a certain control over these emotions, making him erratic. I sense Tyrell does a great deal of work to mask this side of himself from others, at the very least to keep up appearances. (keep in mind I never said he ever did handle himself well.)

The root causes of all of this is likely some combination of genetics, upbringing, and stress from the crushing weight of his goals. He has pointed out a strong desire to be unlike his father, who he sees as weak and pathetic for not trying hard at anything in his life. This seems to be near the root of his pathos as Tyrell shows he must be strong and in control while always doing anything to succeed. He isn’t afraid of the taboo either and almost seems to seek out what is most ambitious, risky, and rebellious in order to prove himself. Especially when it achieves some greater end.

Tyrell has two side really, the conquerer and the meek. He is selfishly driven, but easily influenced. Prone to violent behavior, but passionately submissive to those he loves. Willing to do anything to get what he wants, but can be equally vulnerable and saddened by loss and failure. He suppresses himself but is easily emotional and erratic. Driven by success but also ruled by fear. Insightful but also delusional and narrow minded.

Tyrell may have precarious ways of dealing with situations and getting at his ambitions but ultimately his concerns are always fairly human and usually seem reasonably achievable for him at face value. He wants to provide for his family, make sure they’re safe, he wants to get the position he’s worked hard for (things get ... confused when it comes to Elliot but I think it starts with noticing how Elliot could be a good potential hire to boost his reputation then things just continue to escalate as they seem to toy with one another to his mind). He reacts perhaps with probably just too much passion, and I don’t think he can help it. What I’m getting at it is Tyrell has a very human side to him that’s fairly normal and awkward even, he’s kinda just a huge techie nerd and loves that he is, we see a lot of the normality of Tyrell in 404.

#tyrell wellick #mr robot #read me to filth on this #I always feel bad tagging these long posts in the fandom ags #Anyway this is wha I wrote in order to actually be able to write tyrell for like one thing lol

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thehalalgirlofficial · 4 years ago

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BHM: the life of omar ibn said

In today’s racially charged climate, the call to learn from and reckon America’s violently colorful history with people of color has reached a fever pitch. In order to move forward, we must first study our past. This Black History Month should be more than just a time elementary school teachers rattle off facts about Madam C.J. Walker and George Washington Carver. Rather, we as a people must use this opportunity to allow ourselves to feel the long suppressed pain of our black brothers and sisters so that we may begin to heal together. Surely, much of the racial injustice that is prevalent today stems from the conscious decision to enslave masses of people against their will whilst forcing them to desert their culture, land, and families.

One such story is that of West African slave and author Omar ibn Said. In early 2019, the Library of Congress acquired the Omar Ibn Saeed collection, including his original Arabic autobiography written in the early 1800s, along with its English translation The Life of Omar Ibn Said from the 1860s. Now that these documents have been made public, we have access to firsthand accounts of slavery in America which are unedited by ibn Saeed’s owners, unlike other slave’s autobiographies that were written in English. In fact, many of the accounts of slavery and the treatment of enslaved people we read today are derived from white abolitionist writers, rather than black enslaved people. This is often because slaves did not have the time, the ability, or the resources to record their conditions, and even if an enslaved person did dare to write an autobiography, he or she risked being caught by an “owner” and being severely punished. Still, there are written accounts of some enslaved people’s experiences, but these accounts are tainted by the possibility of being dictated or altered by an “owner”. What makes ibn Said’s work exceptional is that he chose to record his life in Arabic, a medium his “owner” was unlikely to have been able to read, let alone contour to his whims. Due to his foresight, today we have access to a work that facilitates an enhanced understanding of the complications of slavery in America and what it meant to be Muslim in the 19th century.

Ibn Said begins his autobiography with Al-Mulk, the sixty-seventh chapter from the Quran. After praising Allah ﷻ and sending salutations of peace and blessings upon Muhammad ﷺ, he begins quoting the Quranic passage,

“Blessed be He in whose hand is the kingdom and who is Almighty; who created death and life that He may make you the best of his works” {67:1}.

It is no accident that ibn Said chose, out of 114 chapters, consisting of a total 6,236 verses, to begin with Al-Mulk, which means “The Sovereignty.” The very first ayah (verse) he pens establishes that Allah ﷻ is the owner of all and that he controls both life and death, which leaves no room for the ownership of man over any form of life. “It is a fundamental criticism of the institution of slavery,” says Mary-Jane Deeb, chief of the African and Middle Eastern Division at the Library of Congress.

Personally, what I find astounding is the stark contrast between his manner of writing and the way in which other writers of the time incorporate religion into their work. For instance, we can observe a less nuanced tone in American author Ralph Waldo Emersons’ "Nature," published in 1836, in which he declares,

“I become a transparent eye-ball; I am nothing; I see all; the currents of the Universal Being circulate through me; I am part or particle of God.”

While Emerson sees God through the world around him, ibn Said understands the world around him through God. Perhaps this difference arises as a result of each writer’s position in life. Emerson already had access to material possessions, which led him on a journey to “find” God amongst a world he had already defined materialistically. On the other hand, ibn Said had very little to nothing to his name, thus his world view was shaped by the beliefs he brought with him in the long boat ride over from Futa Toro. This fundamental difference illustrates the disparity of conditions faced by free and enslaved Americans.

Interestingly, when recalling his life within America, ibn Said’s description of his experiences do not mirror the general perception of enslaved life most carry. Although he does mention the abuse he endured at the hands of Johnson, the man who he was sold to in Charleston, his dislike for Johnson isn’t solely due to him being a “wicked man,” rather he repeatedly mentions that he “had no fear of God at all.” Contrary to the notion that enslaved people fled the persecution and excruciating labor of the fields as some form of refugees, ibn Said mentions in his manuscript that he made the choice not to stay with Johnson, as he, “was afraid to remain with a man so depraved and who committed so many crimes.” Yet, when speaking of North Carolina’s governor John Owen and his brother Jim Owen, who ibn Said “remained in the place of” after being caught, he describes them as “good men” and praises them for reading the gospel and “having so much love to God.” In fact, when asked if he “were willing to go to Charleston City,” ibn Said responds, “No, no, no, no, no, no, no, I not willing to go to Charleston. I stay in the house of Jim Owen.” Despite being able to depict the Owens in a negative light, given that they wouldn’t understand his criticism since it was written in Arabic, he talks highly of each member of the family and even refers to Jim Owen as sied, or master, postulating that enslaved people might have had a relationship of respect and fondness towards their “masters.”

Intriguingly, ibn Said never refers to himself as a slave, and speaks about his circumstances with a refreshing air of self- reliance. To him, he didn’t flee slavery in Charleston; rather, he left a “wicked man” who ibn Said made the choice not to stay with. Perhaps the aspect of ibn Said’s life that vastly sets him apart from the mainstream understanding of a slave’s life is his advanced education. While most enslaved people are regarded as being illiterate, ibn Said wrote letters and personal writings in beautiful calligraphy and had many passages of the Qur’an committed to memory. Along with his manuscript being evidence enough of just how highly educated he was, ibn Said writes, “I continued my studies twenty-five years,” which means he was only six when he first “sought knowledge under the instruction of a Sheikh called Mohammed Seid.” Similarly, the elegance with which he writes is truly a testament to his intelligence. Aside from his cross examination of Christianity and Islam, and his interwoven subtle critisms of the institution of slavery, ibn Said masterfully uses language that illustrates both his wisdom and humility as he looks back on his life. In fact, he even includes an effective introduction and conclusion to his work. From ibn Said’s outlook on life, which allows him to describe his “master” fondly, to his blaring sense of self-determination, he redefines what it means to be an enslaved person in America.

Ibn Said, within his autobiography, attempts to analyze the interwoven tale of his experiences in regards to both Islam and Christianity. He mentions his past rituals of walking to the mosque for prayer in the daytime and at night, and the zeal with which he read the Quran, all before he came to America. Yet, he repeatedly praises the Owen’s for reading the gospel, mentioning that they would read it to him, and implies that he may have converted to Christianity. Due to the many Quranic verses and prayers scattered in his writing, it is difficult to tell whether ibn Said truly brought faith in the Christian religion or only accepted it as an outwardly gesture to ensure his safety in the South. Either way, he was able to examine each religion objectively. At one point, ibn Said even contrasts the manner in which he prayed as a Muslim in opposition to how he prays as a Christian by providing the entire chapter of Al-Fatiha from the Quran, while adding that now he prays, “Our Father.” Interestingly, he never criticizes, gives his opinion on, nor shows a preference towards either religion. This neutrality drives home not only ibn Said’s intellect, but the fact that he was simply searching for the true path, without blindly following whatever he was told.

Perhaps what sets ibn Said apart from other enslaved people in regards to religious aspirations is his twenty-five years spent in seeking out knowledge in Foto Turo. This disciplined early education instilled in him a zeal which followed him across the Atlantic, allowing him to become a lifelong learner. In fact, he was eager to listen to the gospel whenever someone would read it to him. Although he doesn’t specifically mention that he is Christian, ibn Said places a substantially large emphasis on the relationship between God and human beings, as well as the need to read and understand scripture. Even if he remained Muslim, ibn Said never makes clear his opposition to Chrisitan ideology. Rather he reiterates the necessity of faith in one’s life by praising the Owens for being a religious family while cursing at his first “owner” Johnson for his lack of attachment to God.

Aside from The Life of Omar Ibn Said’s literary brilliance and historical significance when analyzing slavery in America, the work resonates with me on a personal level. When I first heard that the Library of Congress had published this work as a collection, along with other hand written pieces such as personal letters, my interest was sufficiently piqued. What I didn’t anticipate, however, is just how much I would relate to the story of a West African slave living in the 19th century. Before reading the English manuscript of The Life of Omar Ibn Said, I first made my way through the Arabic documents. Written in mesmerizing handwriting which, due to my severe lack of knowledge, I can only describe as 19th century African calligraphy, ibn Said begins with the basmallah. As Muslims, we recognize this prayer as one to recite before embarking on any task or journey, even as small as lifting the lid off of a pot. Then he goes on to send salutations upon the Prophet Muhammad ﷺ in a manner so customary that I caught myself doing so involuntarily. When I realized he was quoting surah Al- Mulk, one that my mother helped me commit to memory and would read with me every night before going to bed as a child, I was touched. Despite being stripped of his culture, isolated from his people, and forced onto a new land, ibn Said did not forget the essentials of his religion. It was at that moment that I resolved to start reciting Al- Mulk at night again. When he mentions the Shuyukh, or scholars, under whom he gained his education, I felt the respect emanating from his words. In that moment, the oft- quoted words came to mind, “I am a slave to the one who teaches me even a single letter.”

Perhaps the most striking part of ibn Said’s journey is the fact that while on the run for nearly a month, he risked capture to stop at a church and pray. Although he knew the inherent dangers that would stem from being apprehended, ibn Said’s imaan (faith) proved stronger than his fear, as he was eventually caught and sold back into slavery. In this defiant act of his, I find reasons to feel both ashamed and hopeful. Ibn Said actually faced the possibility of being killed, yet he still chose to preserve his religious traditions. Meanwhile, when prayer time rolls in while I am still on campus, I feel the need to squeeze into the tiniest corner I can find to quickly pray just the bare minimum so that I don't inconvenience anyone else around me. Yet, the fact that ibn Said was caught and sold to a man about whom he mentions, “During the last 20 years, I have known no want in the hand of Jim Owen,” is cause enough for me to be hopeful that the slight stress I endure while praying in public will surely bring about, through Allah’s ﷻ unlimited Grace, great fortune in my own life. Although we are separated by a span of almost two centuries, ibn Said’s struggle is inspiring in ways I couldn’t have anticipated.

In the ever-divisive times in which we now find ourselves living, The Life of Omar Ibn Said is a welcome triumph of human spirit and optimism. Not only are ibn Said’s life and work subjects of intrigue, but the implications of his writing reaffirm a story that many of us have long since forgotten: American slavery does not take one shape, size, or form. Although the institution itself was horrific, we must contend that some enslaved people did find a greater purpose in their lives. Ibn Said was one of them. He rose above the hatred surrounding him, and speaks of the men who held him in captivity with astonishing reverence. How ibn Said was able to look back at the progression of events in his life and not be angered that a scholar as learned as he could be enslaved is a lesson for us all. Truly, ibn Said’s knowledge provided him with humility and wisdom. Perhaps, if he had succumbed to human nature and only displayed outrage at his conditions, which would have been completely justified, we would not have the masterpiece that is the Omar Ibn Said collection today. As we continue to engage literature and history as a way of understanding the world, Omar ibn Said stands as a reminder to value the narrative of every individual, because, rather than a large-scale standpoint in viewing the world, personal experiences speak to the very core of what it means to be human. We all deserve the chance to live prosperously and this cannot be the case until we rectify the mistakes of our past and work towards ensuring the sanctity of every life.

Carey, Jonathan. “The Extraordinary Autobiography of an Enslaved Muslim Man Is Now Online.” Atlas Obscura, Atlas Obscura, 26 Jan. 2019, https://www.atlasobscura.com/articles/omar-ibn-said-autobiography-digitized.

Emerson, Ralph Waldo. “Nature.” EMERSON - NATURE--Web Text, https://archive.vcu.edu/english/engweb/transcendentalism/authors/emerson/nature.html.

ibn Said, Omar. “About This Collection : Omar Ibn Said Collection : Digital Collections : Library of Congress.” The Library of Congress, https://www.loc.gov/collections/omar-ibn-said-collection/about-this-collection/

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archiveddvevents · 5 years ago

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DATE: May 15th

TIME: 8 PM

LOCATION: Throughout Verona

It was Viola’s screams that ushered in the new weeks, drifting along the wispy spring breeze and ringing in the ears of anyone who dared to mull over her death for too long. And it was Viola’s blood that cleansed the ever-soiled streets; pushing at the ankles of the broken, the damned and the indifferent as it rolled through the city in great phantom waves, huddling in-between the cobblestones and drying along fissured windowsills and sturdy pillars alike.

It was said that her ghost now haunted Verona. That it tackled burdened Montagues as they passed through the dreary halls of their library, slinking out from between the looming bookshelves and boring its coal-black eyes into them until they fell to their knees and wept in confession of their sins. Even civilians weren’t left unclaimed by the wrath of Viola’s memory, as they, too, were said to fall prey to it at the barest thought of Capulet retribution and all the lifeblood that was spilled in its name.

Viola’s death took up all the room that she could never fill when alive -- and Verona was choking beneath the weight of it.

One wheezing gasp after another, one desperate crawl after another, Verona drudged ahead like it always did. Yet while some couldn’t help but wonder about its inevitable collapse, others followed at its dragging heel with steady gazes and marching steps -- though it remained to be seen whether they did so because they truly wanted to, or because they had no other choice.

Among that ambitious clan of individuals was none other than Damiano Montague, who had continued to seek the solitude of his office and wrangle his plans for the future, even with all the losses that were now looming over him, rising higher and piling thicker with each and every victory that he stole.

MAY 12TH

THE CAPITAL LIBRARY, 3 PM

He sat at his desk, knotted fingers pressed against his mouth, features locked in an expression of stoic calculation. Before him was his right hand, his general, and most notably, his son. He still wasn’t sure of the title he ought to brand him with. Adversary? Kryptonite? Family?

Only one thing was certain; he had most definitely outgrown the title of heir.

It was glaringly apparent to Damiano as he stole a glance at his son, who occupied the seat directly before him, arm poised along the edge of the desk as his index tapped away in a steady, absently patient rhythm. His gaze was trained on the empty chair across from him, distant and glazed. He seemed every bit the thoughtful leader that he had always envisioned him to be.

The only difference was that he was sitting in the wrong seat.

Yet has he truly earned the throne for himself? Was he truly ready?

Damiano frowned, looking away and slowly lowering his intertwined hands until they settled before him.

ROMEO’s eyes instantly cleared, trailing up to settle on him attentively.

He shuffled around in his seat with a minute motion, yet for all his composure, the mild gesture was enough to betray his nervousness, and Damiano didn’t conceal his recognition of it; meeting ROMEO’s gaze for one rigid moment before his attention drifted away to the other occupants of the room.

GERTRUDE stood in the middle of the room, a short space beyond ROMEO, posture straight and hands clasped in front of her. Damiano eyed the bandaged stump of her ring finger for a long, heavy moment. She didn’t move, didn’t twitch or waver. She remained as steady as ever under his scrutiny, and although he gave no indication of it, it was reassuring for him to witness. Perhaps she did, indeed, retain some of the honor that her tainted act had forever defiled in his eyes. Only time and spilled blood would tell.

Beyond their cluster, near the small office window, was ANTONY, who leaned against the wall and peered down into the streets through pallid coils of cigarette smoke. He glanced at Damiano, but seemed in no hurry to come to attention; taking a moment to inhale one final gulp before discarding the cigarette with a lazy flick of his finger and one final glance at the city below -- as arrogant and aloof as ever. In just a moment, he would know his place. Damiano aimed to make the message glaringly clear with the sharp look he threw ANTONY’s way, but the man merely raised a placating palm while the other gripped the window and rolled it down.

It closed with a decisive, resounding clang.

Damiano took a deep breath that utterly failed to douse his flaring temper, pressing his palms flat against his desk for a moment before he abruptly began to drum his fingers against the tabletop. It seemed to coax ROMEO’s anxiety further to the surface; as he began to gnaw on his lip while tracing the motions of Damiano’s hands. Good.

If only the other two could be half as responsive to him, Damiano couldn’t help but irritably think.

“I have a question for you all: what does loyalty mean to you?”

His fingers stilled. His gaze skirted across all three of them with steady appraisal.

He received no answer.

“It’s a serious question,” He beseeched. “I genuinely want to know what loyalty means to each one of you.”

He took a breath, licked his lips, and impulsively decided that in truth, he didn’t want to fucking know.

“See, for me, loyalty is best translated through honesty. And what honesty means is being forthcoming. Direct. Willing to share what you otherwise would not for the sake of the common goal that I should think we’re all working towards.”

ROMEO’s eyes briefly fluttered closed, face turned away with what Damiano was certain was no small amount of exasperation. He would call it foresight if he didn’t know that it actually came down to the simple fact that his son was simply too used to being reprimanded. Yet did he ever take the time to wonder why the blame never ceased before he resorted to his usual self-victimization? Did he ever learn anything from it? No. Even with all the progress he had made, he still managed to land himself in the line of fire. So here they were, and he only had himself to blame.

“It doesn’t mean letting secrets fester for months on end, and in turn leaving everyone around you reeling from the consequences --“ He emphasized, eyes on GERTRUDE. “before finally mustering the courage to come forward, and right when it doesn’t even matter anymore.”

ROMEO didn’t turn to look at GERTRUDE, perhaps to save her the embarrassment. Yet ANTONY made no move to conceal the inquisitive glance he threw her way, though he retracted his attention quickly enough.

The knuckles of her clasped hands blanched, but that was the only indication that she had any particular reaction to his words.

It was enough.

“It doesn’t mean landing yourself in covert encounters with the enemy and sharing nothing on the matter, even though it leaves you incapacitated for months on end and thus an utter liability to the organization,” He looked upon ANTONY, tipping his chin in the direction of his still-healing hands.”While also bearing the risk of dragging the rest of the Montagues into whatever cycle of vendetta you had locked yourself into.”

It was GERTRUDE’s turn to cast a curious glance at ANTONY, who remained slouched against the window. Yet his nonchalant posture was decisively betrayed by the unmistakable frost that had now chilled his expression.

“And finally, it doesn’t mean orchestrating a wholesale operation of your own volition, not to mention after gaining intel that you had absolutely no right to keep to yourself, when it is not your place to do so.” He gritted, voice raised with his spiking frustration as he bore his gaze down on ROMEO, still scathed by the series of events that was ultimately what had paved the way for Viola’s untimely death.

He leaned forward across his desk, voice dropping into a harsh murmur. “Arrogance will get you far, boy, but never far enough while your name remains tied to mine.”

ROMEO’s jaw clenched as he blinked incessantly, undoubtedly in an attempt to keep himself from flinching.

Damiano watched his composure crumble, and then slowly, slowly, leaned back in his chair, once again turning to look between all three of them.

“So… do we see a pattern here? Or has honesty eluded you for so long now that you can’t even tell that you’re lacking in it?”

The words settled with a whiff of heat across all those who were present, and the silence in their wake was blistering.

Damiano began to drum his fingers once again, watching them as he awaited a response.

Again, he received nothing.

Curious. They were always so eager to hiss and holler and let their voices be heard, yet now they were mute all of a sudden. All because he faced them with their faults, even though they have all collectively done nothing but face him with his own.

He scoffed, lips tilting in a derisive smile. “It’s alright. What’s done is done, and each one of you has already paid their own price for their secrecy.” He let the declaration settle for a moment, then he spread his palms. “Now we can turn over a new page. And I’m willing to set the example that we all ought to follow, moving forward.”

Reaching into his drawer, he took out several files that he had compiled on his own, without the knowledge of any of the three. He put the files before him, but gave no indication that anyone was allowed to glimpse the contents just yet. “I think we’re all aware that the Capulets have gone too far at this point. Although Viola’s death is the straw that broke the camel’s back, I believe that this was a long time coming. War is what the Capulets have demanded, and war is what they shall receive.”

He nodded towards the files. “I’ve been thinking it over since the anniversary; how we can retaliate, what moves we can afford to make with the resources that we have. And over the past few days, I outlined the plan that I have in mind.” He opened the largest file, which showcased images of various Capulet territories alongside sheets of outlined information regarding them. “A series of coordinated attacks on significant Capulet territories which, if executed efficiently, will end with us taking over their precious Cathedral.”

He indicated a photo of the building. ROMEO frowned at it, licking his lips in hesitation before arguing, “But the Cathedral is practically falling apart after the explosion. What use would it have?”

With a click of his tongue, Damiano shook his head. “In this case, it’s not about the use, boy, it’s about the message. Those righteous fools take great pride in having a house of God in their grasp. They’ll be left stranded without it. We keep it, and it’ll be a blow that they will take ages to recover from.” He sought ROMEO’s gaze, certain that his following words would convince him. “If Cosimo thinks that what he did with Viola was a display, he has a grand fucking lesson to learn.”

ROMEO avoided Damiano’s eyes, silent as he read over the file.

“Like I said, I aim to set an example with this, so you’re all free to look over the strategies I’ve outlined. Offer suggestions, make adjustments, pick your teams -- get involved, and work to make this a success.”

With a firm motion of his hand, he closed the file. “It happens in three days.”

The door would have slammed behind ROMEO as he stormed out, had it not been for the swift response of GERTRUDE’s hand as she walked out behind him. She let the door hover open behind her for ANTONY to pass through as she trailed after a seething ROMEO, who came to a stop beside her with his fists clenched at his sides and his head shaking in fervent rejection.

“I have to do something about this.” He insisted. “Going after the Capulet HQ is no walk in the park. He’s going to be met with heavy resistance, and many of our people will die for nothing. Even if he does seize the Cathedral, it’s useless. And who knows how the Capulets might retaliate, or if we’ll even have the power to push them back by the time it’s over. They’ve already taken territory back from us once before.”

GERTRUDE was silent, though she seemed to be in agreement with ROMEO. ANTONY merely lingered in the background, not partaking in the discussion but carefully following it.

“I know I have no way of stopping him, but if I can somehow make these attacks count, then that’s what I have to do.”

He searched GERTRUDE’s eyes, then turned to briefly gauge ANTONY’s reaction.

“It can’t all be for nothing.”

Then he turned around, and quickly began marching towards his own office.

MAY 15TH

MEASURE BY MEASURE, 8 PM

The trenches of Measure by Measure sprawled ahead of the invading Montague battalion; an assembly of twelve soldiers with CELIA and ROSALIND at the forefront. Making their entry had been an easy feat, but it was known that the bulk of the establishment’s security lay in the catacombs; in the implicit knowledge that upon descent, one would have no choice but to dig their way out or be buried beneath another’s heel. As such, the nervous energy crackling along the humid air was palpable to all, though none seemed to waver before it. They knew their orders, they knew the mission that lay ahead -- and most importantly, they knew the risks.

Beneath the nervous air was a different sort of tension, however; one that spiked and pulled taut whenever ROSALIND’s gaze collided with CELIA’s, especially when she seemed to take note of the way her cousin was expressly marching closer to the comrades on her other side, enforcing distance that had divided both Aguilars for longer than either of them was willing to admit. It made for a stifling progression through enemy territory, one that had little to do with the constrained air or the cavernous space. Even the soldiers posed at the flanks seemed to take note of it; stealing perplexed glances at the renowned Montague duo as they walked at the head of their pack.

Yet although the ties that bound sometimes frayed, they could never truly be broken, and such was starkly proven by CELIA’s swift response as a wicked bullet strode directly towards her cousin, who was simmering in enough disdain that it seemed to completely drown out her focus. A push of CELIA’s palm into ROSALIND’s shoulder sent her sprawling out of the bullet’s path, and as she shouted at her cousin to take cover, she realized the risk that her selfless actions bore. Only it was too late, as she quickly found herself lying on her back with a gun pressed harshly into her throat. Atop her was CORDELIA, who hadn’t hesitated to take advantage of CELIA’s preoccupation with her cousin.

While the two grappled with one another, ROSALIND was instantly on her feet and working to come to her cousin’s aid, but HIPPOLYTA was quick to throw herself into her path. She was a renowned Capulet captain, known for her calculative disposition and efficient approach to combat. She encompassed everything that went against the aggressive, direct approach of ROSALIND’s training, and it caused the fight to sway in the Capulet’s favor. Though as ROSALIND took note of CELIA’s struggles against CORDELIA, she instantly abandoned defense in favor of offense, taking HIPPOLYTA off guard as she began to fuel more patience and tact into her assaults.

In the end, none of them could remain caught in a stalemate forever.

With a struggling HIPPOLYTA caught in her wavering chokehold, ROSALIND looked around her to find that most of their soldiers were either dead or caught in the Capulets’ grasp, and it took the mindless moment when she called out to the others to translate the bleak conclusion of their defeat for HIPPOLYTA to wrap an ankle around hers and tug her foot from beneath her, knocking her down and swiftly turning the tides of their fight.

Her warning was unnecessary, however, as it seemed that several of her comrades had come to the same conclusion. The first of which naturally being CELIA, whose attacks on CORDELIA had switched from offensive and lethal, to distant and defensive as she turned her focus to concocting a much-needed escape plan.

For a moment, all seemed to be lost -- until ROSALIND felt the blessed weight of a forgotten smoke grenade pressing painfully into the small of her back.

Digging her palm beneath her with great difficulty, she took it out and let it roll away into the middle of the raging battlefield.

Then she held her breath.

One second passed… then two… then the third…

The room was engulfed in smoke, and ROSALIND’s fist rose up to collide with HIPPOLYTA’s nose, dislodging her and giving her the leeway to run towards the exit after passing by her cousin and signaling to her with a quick pat on the shoulder. CELIA understood, rallying what was left of their comrades and leaning against them alongside ROSALIND as they made their ragged escape through the catacombs.

They came up for air with no concern for anything but the sheer relief that they had survived.

TWELFTH NIGHT MUSEUM, 8:30 PM

It was a calm evening in the Twelfth Night Museum, disturbed by nothing more than the whisper of footsteps as they stuttered before paintings and the hum of quiet conversations as visitors indulged in each other’s opinions and remarks. The echo of music drifted down from the upper floor, breezy and soothing, the paintings shimmered in the gentle light, and the sculptures looked upon it all with envying melancholy.

All while the city outside simply lay in wait.

Then all the doors slammed shut. Alarms blared and warning lights flashed.

And a dozen Montagues slinked out of the shadows.

At the forefront were MALCOLM and HAMLET who worked in unison to enforce their operation of taking over the museum, MALCOLM issuing orders to their fellow soldiers, and HAMLET working on closing the area off from any Capulet reinforcements. Soon enough, the museum was locked up like a cell without a key, restricted only to the internal alarms that left nothing for wandering eyes to see beyond its walls.

HAMLET quickly found himself cornered by CORIOLANUS, who spread his palms and looked around in indication of the Montague soldiers that were faltering and falling all around them in the wake of Capulet retaliation, taunting HAMLET with the pitiful sight. It was an act that failed at first, but soon enough served its purpose, throwing them into an entanglement that was desperate and invigorated on HAMLET’s part, while riveting and purely amusing in his enemy’s eyes.

At the far corner of the room, MALCOLM was aiding a fellow Montague soldier before suddenly taking an abrupt, vengeance-fueled knife to his side. Wielding it was none other than LADY MACBETH, who still burned with spite for what he had done to her husband. For a long time, they fell into physical combat, exchanging forceful blows and unflinching strikes, until MALCOLM gained enough breadth to wield his gun, and then LADY MACBETH’s fate was sealed.

Though not quite, for she was quick to grab a civilian and use them as a shield to deter his bullets. It was HERMIONE, who fell into a scream of agony, shoulder torn by the burning metal of a bullet, before she could even grasp what was happening. Once she had served her purpose, she was quickly discarded by LADY MACBETH who went on to taunt MALCOLM with his act of injuring an innocent woman.

Though HERMIONE was discarded, she was not abandoned. Her screams had drawn the attention of a watchful TITANIA, and displeased as they were with LADY MACBETH’s cowardly actions, they were quick to run to HERMIONE’s bloodsoaked side, helping her up and guiding her to a remote corner where they tended to her wound as best as they could.

Across the battlefield, BIANCA was ordered to go upstairs to the Tempest and ensure that no Montagues had infiltrated it. As she ran, she collided with FLORIZEL, who had been making his exit out of the lounge. The two engaged one another in a conversation riddled with underlying motives and looming blades, gauging each other and their stances on the chaos that had erupted around them. Adept at such games as she was, BIANCA had managed to lure him close enough -- and then she ran her blade through his gut. Just because she could. She had orders to take down Montagues, after all, and he had the same rabid air about him. Could anyone truly blame her for acting on orders and instinct alike? And so she walked away along a pool of his blood, unbothered by the chilling footprints she stamped in her wake.

It was just as HAMLET began to turn the tide of his battle with CORIOLANUS that his earpiece crackled with disturbing news. The Measure by Measure takeover had been a failure; they were now meant to retreat and make their way to the next and most essential target in order to ensure the success of the operation. He had no room to argue or discuss, and so he quickly called out to his comrades. MALCOLM answered the call, abandoning his unfinished fight with LADY MACBETH and making his way towards as many soldiers as he could reach, supporting them however he can and ushering them forward. Once there were none left behind except for the fallen, HAMLET gave the order to have their override on the alarm system dismantled, then began to fight his way through the museum alongside what remained of his people.

They made their way towards the Cathedral, hungering for the victory they had just been denied.

THE CATHEDRAL, 9 PM

The broken visage of the Cathedral made for quite a mournful sight. A vision that tugged one’s brows into a grimace of sorrow and lured their gaze into helpless appraisal of beauty torn asunder -- an ill fate that the ancient city of Verona had been condemned to from the moment it birthed the divine Capulet and Montague entities.

Its lower levels lay pliant, spread open before gloating eyes as their shattered foundations wearily leaned into the support of construction beams and wooden pillars. An array of spears sprouting from the Capulets’ crucified heart, drawing grit in place of blood and piercing stone in place of flesh.

Further beyond, among the crumbling ruins of the dilapidated ribcage, lay a cluster of prone bodies. Casualties amidst crossfire. Innocents.

Construction workers and Capulets tasked with security, fallen in the name of the Montague march as though they had never stood a chance.

Indeed, they hadn’t.

The workers were merely unconscious, but the soldiers had been executed, in accordance with the ruthless code with which GONERIL had led a handful of Montague soldiers, shortly before joining ANTONY and MERCUTIO alongside the rest of the battalion once their way into the Cathedral was finally cleared.

Above them, Capulets went about their business as usual, hearts settled and guard lowered. All while VOLUMNIA seethed in her office.

As soon as they were informed of the series of Montague attacks that had been launched on their territories, she had immediately sprung into action, distributing teams and assigning tasks while simultaneously preparing to dive into the battle herself -- only to find herself stopped by Cosimo Capulet. He aimed to go and survey the battle grounds, and it was his wish that she remain in their headquarters and take leadership in his absence. VOLUMNIA had been against it, claiming that it would be a more efficient action if she were to guide their forces on the field while Cosimo led and supervised their efforts. In truth, she hadn’t trusted what Cosimo might do outside the sharp scope of her vision, the bitter memory of the night of the anniversary still curdling in her mind. Yet her attempts at persuasion had been in vain, as Cosimo had firmly decided against listening before finally taking his hurried leave.

She had been mulling over it ever since, mind running itself ragged with contemplation as she considered all the new dimensions that her recent disagreements with the Don opened for the future of the Capulets.

Then her thoughts came to a dreadful halt.

She noted how quiet it had gotten outside.

But then sound began to arrive in small bursts; minute shouts and distant calls that she struggled to translate as she made her way to the door.

It opened up to reveal the dastardly curve of MERCUTIO’s smile.

That was all VOLUMNIA could see before her sight was whisked away into a dizzying blur of sights and colors. MERCUTIO’s gun-wielding hand only lowered from her bleeding temple for a second before the other followed in its tracks, landing a bruising punch to the other side of VOLUMNIA’s face and earning her enemy further leeway into her office. VOLUMNIA stumbled to her desk, throwing herself on the other side of it to put distance between them and steal a moment to regain her footing. But MERCUTIO offered her no breathing room, launching themself across the desk and sending her crashing into her toppling seat of leadership. Yet although MERCUTIO had gained the upper hand, VOLUMNIA was intent on stripping them of it, having learned quite a bit about their fighting style from their recent encounter with one another.

A short distance away, ANTONY and GONERIL were making their way to the other offices of Capulet leadership, yet their progress was soon interrupted by DIANA, who had clearly been on her way to make an urgent exit. ANTONY turned the corner and was instantly spotted by her, but luckily, GONERIL had been lagging behind and so she was able to lean back into the shadowed wall and mask her presence. ANTONY aided her, drawing DIANA’s attention and giving no indication that he was accompanied. It gave GONERIL room to slink away and look for another route towards their intended destination, while ANTONY continued to indulge in rigged conversation with the enemy.

He approached DIANA slowly, arms raised placatingly in a deceptive display of his bandaged hands, taking advantage of what he knew of the enemy and projecting the twisted image of a man too aware of his own weakness, a man unwilling to do what was easy and spill blood when he could instead coax the enemy towards surrender. DIANA indulged him, willing to bite into the bait and guarding against it all at the same time. She slowly closed the distance between them, with a blade in hand, tucked into her side and concealed within the gentle, overflowing ruffles of her dress.

Meanwhile, GONERIL was making her way away from the vacant offices of the boss and heiress alike with her jaw clenched in frustration. She shoved the door to the consigliere’s office open with her foot, almost convinced that it, too, shall be empty. For a moment, that truly seemed to be the case, and GONERIL stood in the doorway and sloughed out a sharp sigh -- right before ROSALINE launched out from behind the door and wrapped a makeshift garrote around her throat. GONERIL managed to raise her hands just in time, hissing as they bled across her neck. They tousled around, crashing into cabinets and colliding with walls, and so ROSALINE, still weakened by her torture at the Montagues’ hands, was quick to lose her strength and loosen her hold. GONERIL threw her off with a harsh kick, whirling around and faltering upon recognizing the woman from her past.

Further across the expanse of the headquarters, there were no clear omens as to whom the battle was swinging in favor of. Capulets hissed, Montagues roared, and the Cathedral was then awash with gold simmering and boiling amidst silver.

Then the Montague reinforcements arrived from the abandoned battle at the Twelfth Night Museum, filtering into the Cathedral like a winding contagion and quickly overwhelming the struggling ranks of Capulets.

Soldiers drifted around, coming first across VOLUMNIA at the mercy of MERCUTIO’s blade.

Then ANTONY as he stood with a dangerously scant space between him and DIANA, leaning close as if they were sharing a secret, though none could see the way ANTONY was eyeing her blade or the way DIANA clenched her fingers around the impulse of brandishing it. The soldiers approached, and ANTONY glanced at them before looking back at DIANA and slowly reaching for her blade. He twirled it in a scar-ridden hand as he led them away, DIANA caught between them in enforced surrender.

Finally, the soldiers came upon a victorious GONERIL, though there was no satisfaction to be gauged from her expression, especially as she was forced to further subdue ROSALINE, who swiped and screamed at the encroaching Montagues like a cornered beast. Even as she lost consciousness due to GONERIL’s decisive strike, she never stopped fighting back.

Upon entry, Damiano Montague took in the chaos with a mild smile. It was his first genuine one in months.

Broken as it was, the heart of the Capulets was now his. A token of victory unlike any other.

He couldn’t help but wonder what his son would bring back in turn.

PHOENIX AND THE TURTLE CAFE, 9:10 PM

It was quite a deceiving trophy that he aimed to bring back, ROMEO couldn’t help but think, eyes taking in the humble, welcoming visage of the cafe as his team slowly approached it. While it would seem like an odd, almost pitiful choice for a takeover target, especially when compared to the jewel that his father was seeking, he saw its value far beyond its image. Although the establishment was simple, and horribly understated in comparison to the other powerful territories that the Capulets controlled, ROMEO understood the intent behind it well enough that he could see the power it held where his father could not. A special brand of power that could only be found in kindness, which was found exclusively in Phoenix and the Turtle perhaps more than any other Capulet territory.

Those who slept on empty stomachs grew to forget the taste of hunger upon finding this place, and it was something that had endeared the Veronesi to the Capulets in ways that the Montagues have failed to contend with for years on end.

His father had spoken on sending a message, and opted to send it through theft of the Capulets’ heart.

But ROMEO was about to steal something far more precious, far more meaningful: the long-cultivated love of the people.

And he had no intention of being kind about it. They certainly hadn’t bothered to afford Viola that kind of respect.

It was for that reason that his expression remained stoic as stone as he heard the panicked shouts and terrified cries of innocent patrons as they coughed and choked and fell to their knees in the wake of the tear gas bombs that his team had thrown in through the windows. By the time it cleared and it was safe for the small Montague team to venture inside, the territory was all but theirs for the taking.

However, Damiano’s attacks had bore the disadvantage of announcing their plan to the entirety of the city, and because of that, Cosimo had been quick to send out teams to every single territory to guard against any remaining Montague attacks. It was for that reason that the Montagues’ victory was short-lived, as a Capulet squad was quick to crash into the cafe and bring their progress to a halt.

The first among them was KATHERINE, who seemed intent on going after GERTRUDE from the moment she spotted her. GERTRUDE deterred her attacks, trying and failing ceaselessly to convince her to swallow her pride and stand down. Yet her words fell on deaf ears, as KATHERINE continued on with her relentless attacks. As the fight progressed and GERTRUDE slowly ceased to hold back, however, KATHERINE opted for a different approach, taking advantage of the pallid remnants of smoke that still clung to the air to elude the enemy and dance in circles around her until she found her opening. Yet there was a great prince to be paid in the wake of her conniving strategy.

While KATHERINE crouched and slinked around under the veil of smoke, GERTRUDE did her best to trace her movements with her gun, and when she was certain that she had spotted her, she didn’t hesitate. The bullet whizzed through the murky air, but in place of the harsh, sharp groan that GERTRUDE expected, came a gentle, resounding scream -- the bloodcurdling sound of someone who has yet to learn of true pain.

It was HERO, who had gone on to expect that the only hardship she would endure on this night was the possibility of getting lost on her way home, and yet here she was, in tears and tremors as she scrambled to halt the ceaseless blood-flow. It was just her luck that the righteous, kind-hearted TROILUS, who happened to have also elected to dine here, lingered close enough to come to her aid. He scrambled away from the upturned table that he had been hiding behind and made his way towards HERO once GERTRUDE and KATHERINE were out of sight, calming her down and helping her with the injury before moving on to guide her towards escape, lips coiled in disdain for the mobs that only ran deeper with each passing day.

Nearby, TYBALT was launching himself at SEBASTIAN, who had taken note of the situation involving HERO and lost his focus in the wake of oncoming dread as he realized just how many innocents were getting caught in the crossfire of this battle -- the one they had been the ones to initiate. The space was too constrained for use of arms, and so the two took to physically fighting against one another, SEBASTIAN solemn and cautious, while TYBALT snarled and pushed, and pushed, and pushed. Though how far he pushed just before SEBASTIAN broke, one could only wonder.

It was OPHELIA and MIRANDA who then came into conflict, hissing and spitting at one another while war raged all around them. OPHELIA and CLEOPATRA had stuck to each other’s side, but they had gotten separated amidst the chaos, and OPHELIA feared for her dear friend and for herself in equal parts, knowing they were much stronger when banded together than when apart. It fueled her attacks against MIRANDA, the desperation to find her friend and make sure she was safe -- a goal that she and her enemy both shared, as MIRANDA, too, was pushed by her boundless passion to stand up for her friends and famiglia alike. But the two never lowered their weapons, and so they never found out just how much they actually had in common.

It was every bit the clash of beast against prey as BEATRICE and REGAN threw themselves against one another, though the modest, brimming space of the cafe did not allow for much freedom of movement. At one point, BEATRICE keenly used it to her advantage, running out into the streets in the hope that her speed would allow her to get the enemy off her trail. Yet REGAN was not the type of predator who was deterred by a chase, and so they followed after BEATRICE with eager hunger, keeping up with her with detached ease.

They caught her quickly, throwing her to the ground and locking her in with their body before antagonizing her with the gleaming weapon they held aloft. The sound of them in the otherwise quiet street drew ARIEL’s attention as they passed by, and at first, they hesitated to act upon taking note of the chaos that had overtaken the cafe. Yet upon recognizing BEATRICE, they decided to help her, distracting REGAN long enough for BEATRICE to escape their grasp. She didn’t run, however. Instead, she stayed and worked together with ARIEL to escape REGAN’s prowl.

Later on, REGAN settled on the concrete, catching their breath and glaring daggers at the retreating silhouettes of their quarry. Yet as they made their way to stand and continue their chase, IMOGEN was abruptly at their side. They claimed to be offering REGAN their help, even though they barely glanced at their wounds, feigning ignorance towards their identity and allegiance alike in the hope of gaining information on the battle that was erupting only a few feet away. IMOGEN had had far too many missed chances as of late, and it was a mistake that they had no intention of repeating.

Back inside the cafe, in a remote corner that was still anything but peaceful, CLEOPATRA faced off against EDGAR, who took a stance of grim determination, reminded of an achingly similar stalemate that he had been locked into with another Montague not too long ago. Though unlike them, CLEOPATRA was calm and unrelenting instead of desperate and eager for self-sacrifice. She clearly had no qualms about resorting to necessary violence, and still she didn’t reach for her weapon. Instead, she negotiated, attempting to convince EDGAR of the inevitable Montague victory and draw him towards peaceful surrender. It was only because of the surprising semblance of honor that she afforded him that EDGAR stilled and listened.

They never had a chance to see if CLEOPATRA could truly convince him.

Soon enough, ROMEO sealed the fate of the battle.

He gave swift, efficient orders, distributing soldiers evenly and tasking them with goals that worked to ensure that the cafe was locked tightly within their grasp. Capulets were subdued and held at gun-point, or defeated and cast outside as fodder for the streets. The Montague HQ was contacted and informed of their team’s success. More soldiers were dispatched to ensure the security of the location and fend off any Capulet retaliation.

ROMEO took in the blessed vision of order, exacted by his hand and his hand alone, and it felt like he was able to draw breath for the first time since day arose.

The taste of victory was not quite as sweet as he imagined, and still he couldn’t seem to get enough of it.

He wondered how it tasted to his father, if his addiction to it was the reason why they had wound up where they were.

Desperately, he hoped that it would grow bitter for him as time passed.

THE OUTSKIRTS OF VERONA, 11 PM

From a castle carved from shadow, LAMPRIUS watched as one battle after another overtook his beloved city. A grating chain of war that had been choking him in its coils for as long as he could remember.

It was tradition as ancient as the Witches who still lived eternal in his memory.

Its life would come to be cut short. Just as theirs had been.

The promise burned within him, and with its ashes scorching the tips of his fingers, he went on to write the following words.

Remember this for when the time comes.

What is dead can never die. Not while there is life and legacy to be taken in its name.

Then he sent them scurrying along the wind, towards none other than Verona’s damned kings.

OVERVIEW: And so the war for the territories begins! Viola’s death has stirred the Montagues into irreversible action, and the stakes are only going to climb higher from here. As you’ve just witnessed, the Montagues are now officially in possession of THE CATHEDRAL and PHOENIX AND THE TURTLE. But fret not, Capulets! The next plot drop will explore their reaction to the blow they’ve been dealt and the action they’ll take in response, which is the reason for JULIET’s absence from this plot drop. Due to injuries too debilitating for them to take part in the action, PERDITA and ORSINO are also absent. A lot of exciting things are coming, so keep an eye out for them alongside changes in our locations page to reflect the recent events! Please date your threads from APRIL 27TH to MAY 30TH, with MAY 15TH as the day where the events of the plot drop occur. Let us know if you have any questions, and have fun!!

#diveronaevent

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xlady-saya · 5 years ago

Text

I want this touch to be familiar [Ch. 2]

Relationships: andrew/neil, side aaron/katelyn

Summary: Deep down, Andrew knew he would always reach this crossroads, a time where the thought became too strong to ignore.

Going all the way with Neil. It’s not something he can continue to avoid thinking about. When Andrew looks back to the days where he held Neil’s hands down, when he never got off with him in the same room, he’s forced to acknowledge how much he’s allowed.

Not allowed. Welcomed. Wanted.

But that’s not all there is to it, and the desire to make a decision finally makes itself known.

Tags: first time fic, p*rn with feelings, relationship study, fluff and communication, multichapter

Read on ao3!

Andrew is a planner.

This is one thing he's not afraid to admit about himself; most events in his life have been unplanned, disastrous things which he can only try to wrangle in the moment they make themselves known. However, if he has the time and foresight, he's much more inclined to plot out every move, making sure there are no slip-ups. Minimal error.

Thinking about and minimizing the damage to himself is new, since beforehand he wouldn't bother to care. In this case, his own reactions are things he'll have to deal with in the moment, since his limit here is unknown. He's never done this with anyone.

For now, his sole focus becomes Neil.

Of course, he knows with something like this it's impossible to get it perfect. He's more experienced than Neil, despite the fact he's never been intimate with someone on his own terms; he knows how it works, knows what to expect and all the ways it can go wrong.

He knows it most likely will be uncomfortable the first time, but can he make the good outweigh that?

At the thought, Andrew grumbles to himself, shaking his head over his cup of coffee. It's been a few weeks since that initial conversation, and his head has been a balancing act of sexual tension and precaution. He's planning as if he's made up his mind, though it's the farthest thing from the truth.

But, necessary. He needs to treat this like it's real, or it'll never sink in.

And well, the sexual part of it feels very real. His overactive mind has made sure to spin the fantasy at him almost daily, and he's been powerless against it. The thought of Neil splayed out in front of him is not something he'll ever be adverse to. Lately, Andrew's libido has spiked, doubling from what is normal. If Neil knows the reason, he hasn't chosen to comment on it, and just seems happy to satisfy Andrew in whatever way he can.

A curl of warmth unfurls in his chest, and he slides his gaze over to where Neil sits on the floor, legs kicked up as he runs through his calculus homework. The gym shorts he has on slip a little, revealing odd patterns of discoloration. Andrew can only assume they're burns.

He's real, so painfully real Andrew feels the need to shield him from a threat that's not even there. Neil isn't scared of him, Andrew isn't scared of Neil. For all their hostility, they fit.

They prepare for the worst, gentleness often escapes them, and they've never minded each other's harshness.

Even still...

Silently, he pours Neil a cup of coffee into the god awful fox mug Nicky made him at Color Me Mine, the eyes sagging and crossed, and sets it beside him on the floor.

Neil’s head tilts up just enough to smile sleepily at him, and Andrew's insides twist painfully. Harshly, he pushes Neil's head down, back to his homework, and tries not to let the soft laugh cloud his thoughts anymore.

For all his severity, none of which Andrew is ashamed of, he finds himself itching to give Neil the opposite. And he does, when he thinks about it. Andrew tries his best not to roll his eyes; Neil ends up being right at the most annoying times.

Andrew wouldn't mean to hurt him, it's true. Andrew would never willingly hurt Neil these days, he simply doesn't have the capability. But intention is seldom enough for him. He'll do this right; it's the reason he's set up a plan in the first place.

Yet, plans are hard to keep together. Steps should be easy to follow, checked off.

1. Talk to Bee

2. Talk to Roland

3. Do his own research

Simple, direct; that's what Andrew thought when he put the plan into action. Bee would be able to reveal the things Andrew could not yet see, pick his brain until the maze had a map. Roland would have experience with this, he'd be able to tell Andrew what it's like when it's consensual, the do's and don'ts. From then on, Andrew should've been able to piece the puzzle together and fill in the gaps with cold, hard information. There's only so much he can do to prepare, but he'll cover all his bases.

The plan was supposed to do all that, but hiccups forever plagued Andrew's life. Bee's words were weights, necessary, still sitting with him even now. And Roland, well, that had almost gone well.

At the memory, Andrew glares. The night before, he'd gone to talk with Roland alone, no stress or obligation to keep an eye on his family while he tried to sort this out. He told Neil, wrapped around him in bed, because it's not something he felt ashamed sharing. The reasoning was another story.

And Neil, stupid, understanding Neil, hadn't even questioned it, blindly trusting Andrew to tell him later. It would be agonizing, but Andrew would do it.

Keeping things from Neil nowadays is almost like an allergy, irritating.

It should've been uneventful. At most, he expected Roland to be obnoxious about it, which he was...

"Ohoho, it's about time indeed," the bartender crowed above the loud music of the club, spilled alcohol sticking to Andrew's boot soles. He grit his teeth. Andrew tried his best not to give too much away when he asked Roland to follow him to the backrooms, but Roland's shocked face when he brought it up forced Andrew’s hand.

It wasn't like that, it wouldn't ever be like that again and Roland knew it, was probably worried something had happened with Neil to make Andrew seek out something physical.

So naturally, Andrew told him the gist of his situation, his intentions to go all the way with Neil, and Roland had run away with it in triumph. The bartender's smirk made Andrew want to turn around and walk right out of there immediately. As if sensing Andrew's need to retreat, Roland leaned closer into his personal space, never a fast learner.

Andrew doesn't know what he ever saw in him.

"Shut up and let's go," Andrew growled in the small space between them, and Roland laughed at his expense without care. Andrew had to remind himself Roland was his only direct resource, unless he wanted to ask Nicky, which he would never do.

Whatever, Andrew would not have this conversation in public.

"Alright, alright lover boy," Roland sighed, raising his hands with a wink. Andrew employed Neil's tactic for a moment, counting to ten in German. "I'm just happy for you. C'mon."

Andrew didn't bother to respond to that.

The relief that took root in Andrew's chest was short lived, so short lived he didn't even have to shove it down himself. He pushed off the counter to follow Roland through the throngs of drunk college students, the itch in his head gearing towards the information he was about to be given, when he saw her.

The one and only, Ms. I doodle my last name as Minyard in my notebooks--Katelyn.

Andrew froze; and saw the exact moment she knew she'd been caught. She was midstep, legs locked in an awkward position, but she didn't seem to be aware. It would've been satisfying, seeing Aaron's cheerleader so thrown off if it weren't for the look on her face. Andrew could see the assumptions swimming there before the idiot was probably even aware of them, her eyes, so close in color to Neil's but not the same at all, glancing between him and Roland.

For a brief moment, cruelty sparked in Andrew's veins at being read in such a way; it was foreign, this particular anger. He never cared before what people thought of him, least of all Aaron's perfect girlfriend. Andrew knew people thought he was a monster, it never mattered, because Neil didn't.

Yet, the whole reason he was there at all was to avoid hurting Neil as much as possible, so the suspicion on Katelyn's face made him want to commit murder. He might've, but then the idiot rolled her ankle, preserving the progress he'd made with Aaron over the past year and a half.

He couldn't kill her, he couldn't leave her there either.

Aaron's words echoed in his skull; 'Our feelings are the same.'

So inconvenient, so annoying, but so impossible to avoid.

Andrew remembers glancing back at Roland, knowing they wouldn't be having that talk after all, not right then. He remembers his skin crawling as he hauled Katelyn into his car, her words setting him on edge but reminding him that some people still had the capacity to surprise him.

The word 'love' tossed into the mix of mayhem.

Katelyn had put a lot of unnecessary thoughts in his head, but Andrew came back from that night clear headed, not necessarily about the sex situation, but about how he had been handling it.

Guess she isn't totally useless.

Speaking of...

"Good morning!" Katelyn sing-songs into the living area, and Neil flinches from the abruptness. The old instinct to run is hard to bury, and Andrew watches reality settle in as his muscles go slack again. Andrew misses the peace already, but he's the one who left the door open for Aaron in the first place.

Katelyn waves at Neil sheepishly for having spooked him, hopping along on her better ankle to lean against the small counter. Andrew rolls his eyes internally from how Aaron hovers, always there in case Katelyn decides to do another swan dive to the floor.

There's a pause then, one which isn't usually there. Katelyn's eyes land on Andrew and stay there, which in itself is odd. Up until this point, their understanding has been clear. Normally, Katelyn would ignore him, keep her distance. She still does, staying out of his immediate bubble. Yet, this time she offers him a genuine smile, and Andrew hopes last night hasn't given her any ideas about how things are going to be from now on. "Hi Andrew."

Ah, but looks like it has. Great.

Despite the twitch this realization causes, Andrew only hesitates momentarily before he offers her a nod, and ignores the way his brother blanches. Katelyn, thankfully, doesn't treat it as more than what it is, and carries on with whatever breakfast concoction she has in mind. A cook, she is not, and Andrew has no intention of eating it.

He feels Neil's smug smile in the corner of his eye, and dutifully ignores it in favor of watching his brother move seamlessly around his girlfriend. They touch purposefully, and often, like a dance with added steps just for the sake of staying close.

Aaron's arm slides against Katelyn's lower back, and she bites her lip, a blush rising to the tops of her ears. It's not subtle, but it's also not something anyone would bat an eye at.

Why Andrew can see the difference, he isn't sure, but it's there. There's a clinginess between them, more than usual, a product of Aaron's protectiveness and something else.

Looks like after Matt and Dan had fallen asleep, someone else in that dorm had decided to get handsy.

Andrew stuffs down his disgust at the thought; he seldom agrees with Nicky, but thinking of Aaron having any kind of sex is abhorrent, worse when it's straight.

His brother makes it seem so simple though, doesn't he?

He and his twin spent so many years being on the opposite ends of everything that their recent developments make Andrew even more painfully aware of how they're different. They're learning to share things in common without so much teeth pulling, but Andrew knows this is one area Aaron could not understand.

Andrew isn't jealous or resentful, he's just not like Aaron in that way. He's sure his brother and Katelyn had sex soon after meeting, long before it turned into something he'd risk Andrew's wrath over. He's also sure it's not something that keeps Aaron up at night, or wracks him with guilt afterwards. Watching them interact now, post intimacy, makes that clear enough. Aaron wants her and he's happy to want her, there's nothing else to it. Aaron's own insecurities are a monster, that much he knows, but they're not always in line with Andrew's.

Aaron is not afraid to want, and he trusts himself not to hurt.

This observation, coupled with his conversation with Katelyn, leaves Andrew with little room to avoid the real reason for his plan.

Realistically, Andrew knows he's been setting up roadblocks intentionally. Talk to Bee, setback, another setback, step two, back to step one, and so forth. With this process, there's essentially no way for this to not be dragged out to hell and back.

Annoyingly, he hears Renee's voice in his head, "be patient with yourself," but that's not it at all. The steps are more than just precautionary measures or even speedbumps. No, he can't try to convince himself that he put them there to pace himself, to make sure it's what he really wants.

To want, to want, to want.

That's the thing. He knows what he wants, but part of him thought that with enough time, enough pause, he wouldn't anymore. Then, he could fall back on an old habit, push it away and pretend he doesn't care about the fallout.

He'd been giving his brain ample time to ruin this for him too. To remember that wanting is dangerous, disappointing, not worth the consideration or effort. That maybe, impossibly, if he gave himself room to fortify a new wall, he'd no longer crave Neil's everything. Then, hurting him wouldn't have to be a worry at all, because he simply wouldn't care.

But alas, he's caught himself at the end of his rope, and he should know better. He's known better since Baltimore. Because even now, his head buzzing with conflict, one fact stands out as sturdy as before.

He wants Neil. In every way, every part, all the ugly, spiked edges and harsh temper. Nothing has ever sounded better and he hates it. He hates to feel like this, but he won't try to stop.

Why?

"Andrew, what you feel is normal," Bee's saccharine voice trickles through his head, words from the last two sessions when she helped him piece through all this. Or, maybe he should say she gave him the reins. Bee knows him by now, knows Andrew prefers to do most of the work once pointed in the right direction, even if it's something he hates to admit.

What I feel is normal? Yes, yes, I know Bee.

Pleasure, joy, contentment. The lack of exposure to them all for so long means he doesn't know how to process them, according to Bee. In fact, the feelings become almost intolerable.

"As such, your instinct is to lash out at or banish these feelings. They're uncomfortable, maybe even upsetting for you."

He thinks of so many repeats of 'I hate you' and 'this is nothing.' Thing is, those weren't lies. He needed Neil to be nothing, even when he knew it was impossible. He'd crossed the line into dangerous territory again, and Neil had happily jogged over next to him.

Neil's the only one who's ever followed without question.

He means it though; he hates to want. He wonders if it's because it all feels too good to be true, that if he doesn't tell himself he hates it, he'll have to finally acknowledge how good it feels.

How Neil makes him feel.

He can't accept that, not yet. But he will take a different step forward.

Katelyn prattles on about her schedule for the week, and Andrew can't hold her ramblings against her in this case. Labs and practice will keep her and Aaron apart for most of the week; Andrew used to crave the alone time, now...

With the sounds of pots and pans joining the chorus of Katelyn's chatter, Andrew walks over to Neil with intent clear. Funny, how he expected this revelation to be a lot less anticlimactic. But here they are, on a Sunday morning, the smell of burnt toast wafting through the air.

Neil looks up when Andrew sits beside him, catching whatever must be on Andrew's face and tilting his head. He's not sure how Neil does it, doesn't think to ask. Neil won't stop anyways if Andrew tells him too.

Because...

"What you value is understanding."

Yes, this is something Andrew will not be rid of anytime soon, Neil Josten will not go away. The little thrill which runs through him at the thought is not something he'd ever think he'd feel this much again. It intensifies as the days go, and everyday he loses more of the energy to stop it.

He can feel Bee smiling that damn smile, all the way from here.

Andrew digs his thumb into Neil's already open palm, waiting for his sleepy grin, and gets rid of all the roadblocks.

I want this, he repeats, and holds Neil's gaze. I want you.

He fights back the automatic recoil, and notes how it's gotten easier to do so, to overshadow his need to pull away with his need to pull closer.

"Yes," he says, and for a moment Neil is so still Andrew wonders if Katelyn's laughter ate up the small word. From how Neil's eyes soften a second later, he knows they weren't. "I don't know when, but it's a yes."

Because they've always gotten through things in the past, together.

Neil's breath hitches, and his hand curls tight around Andrew's, the touch conveying more than words can. The world is still such a dark, unforgiving place, but on this Sunday morning their dorm room has a brightness to it. Andrew shrinks away from it, but is powerless to avoid it.

Andrew thinks it might solely come from Neil, but he's wrong.

"Breakfast," Aaron calls to the room with a sigh, all too carefree and happy with Katelyn next to him. Andrew briefly wonders if Aaron ever thought he'd get to that point, and it's something they share. Disbelief.

"Okay," Neil calls back, and it has a dreamy quality to it Andrew wants so badly to stamp out like a cigarette. He doesn't though, he can't. The word carries the smile on the striker's lips, and Neil buries his face in Andrew's sleeve, content to let their food get a little cold.

Without Andrew noticing, his fingers curl just as tight around Neil's too.

One thing Andrew cannot fathom about Neil sometimes is that there's no sense of pressure.

Andrew made up his mind about going all the way that very morning, over a week ago with Neil resting his head in his lap and eventually wriggling a little too purposefully to be cute anymore. Andrew nearly snapped at Aaron and Katelyn to get lost, but then Neil would've won.

Considering how cheeky Neil looked later on, Andrew's cock in his mouth, maybe he did.

And in the afterglow, there had been...peace.

Andrew's not sure what he expected; maybe Neil's impatience, a new layer of tension in their kisses, their touches, something saying go, go, go. The rush to dive in and get things over with before the thoughts tore him in two.

But there's not. There's nothing like that; no urgency in his head or a ticking clock telling him they need to do it before it's too late. Of course, he still thinks about it constantly, how could he not? He's only a man with an (admittedly) hot...boyfriend. A Neil. A very energetic and smart-mouthed Neil.

Closing his eyes, he can picture it, his memory a blessing for once with something from just the other day.

Andrew lets his hands follow the curve of Neil's ass, feeling the smooth skin, patches of it rough from road burn and other scarring. He digs his fingers into the one spot of Neil's lower back, swallowing Neil's gasp. Like a press of a button, Neil's back bends for him.

They're only making out, just kissing, and he's like this. Andrew is okay with just keeping things like this, it feels right.

"Andrew..." Neil moans, featherlight, so unlike his usual brashness. It makes Andrew's pulse spike, and he kisses back greedily, mind swimming. Neil wants him, he makes Neil feel good...

Neil makes him feel good.

"Quiet," Andrew scolds, muffled by the urgent press of Neil's lips. It's begrudgingly amusing, how stupid Neil is. He keeps going back in for another peck, one right after the other, provoking Andrew to just pin him and push his tongue into his mouth.

"Mm," Neil hums teasingly, and Andrew feels the glide of his fingernail along the column of his neck. Andrew can't help it, he gives Neil a grunt for that, the sensitivity overwhelming.

And Neil, so infuriating, smirks.

"You first," his junkie bites back, so predictable. He punctuates the taunt with a nip to Andrew's earlobe. Then it's cloudy, no, hazy, a dream.

Except Neil has proven time and time again he's the furthest thing from a dream; so real, so warm and solid. Andrew lets himself sink into the pleasure, and in these moments he doesn't realize he's falling, that he doesn't mind it.

"Andrew..."

Neil's voice is a fog Andrew has a hard time finding his way out of sometimes, and he leans his head back on the wall by his bed while the heat pools in his gut.

Oh yes, he thinks about this a lot, and he's too fixated on the feelings to put up a fight.

But it's not even just in these moments that he wants Neil, what once was so troubling is now simply reality...

He thinks of the redhead's sleep deprived yawns, long and drawn out enough to show the slope of his jaw. Anxious nibbling on the end of a pencil when he's focused on some stupid equation. Careful hands, patching up Andrew's bloody knuckles after sparring sessions. And not so careful hands, punching the first reporter to say something even remotely negative about Andrew outside the stadium.

Neil is so dangerous, in that Andrew wants all of him.

Yet, there's never an imperativeness to have all of him, to just lock them away for the weekend and see what all the fuss is about. No, he can savor different parts of Neil in innocent ways: the concerned touches, considerate glances, and wide grins...

And in filthy ways.

The slow stretch of his spine when he's doing warm ups, those yoga pants he wears on purpose around campus, the flick of a tongue against Andrew's biceps.

And still, neither of them feel the need to cross the line into new territory yet, not for lack of want, but for lack of good timing.

Point is, since the decision, he and Neil have done plenty of other things without the underlying question of taking it all the way. It leaves Andrew's stomach buzzing for different, non-anxious reasons. The absence of pressure, of force. It's as if now that everything is out in the open, Neil's presence is both a relaxant and a stimulant, and nothing they do together is bogged down by anything other than chasing the pleasure it brings them.

Even with Roland, when they were ready to experiment further, there was no point in waiting. No pacing. Andrew was typically ready to get it out of his system for the sake of his libido, never pushing himself too far but also not patient with himself either. He'd propose the next thing he wanted to try, made sure Roland's hands were out of the way, and acted accordingly. Quickly. Andrew did not savor.

Andrew would take what he needed from the sensations and that was that; his knees on the floor of Eden's, a heavy weight on his tongue. Roland was enthusiastic, reacting well to Andrew's touches as he got more experienced with time.

As for Andrew...

Sometimes he'd like it, sometimes not, and in those cases he'd put a stop to it and he and Roland would revert to whatever was quickest to get off. Efficient, enough for Andrew to feel the spike of control, to bring another man pleasure without putting himself at risk. Exerting power over someone, and having them like it.

It had all been controlled, because Andrew needed it to be. Many of those nights blur together now; he can remember them all, he does, but pulling those times to the forefront of his mind is not something he ever chose to do. It simply didn't affect him in that way, because Roland never got below Andrew's skin.

With Neil however…

Andrew can't help but imprint every gasp and arch into his brain to never be forgotten, to be spun into daydreams so vivid it's hard to keep still. In the mornings the thoughts drip into the front of his mind, Neil pressed close to him. Then when he's watching Neil run in the gym with strong legs, and it's like he feels Neil's legs tightening around him. When he's bored in class, the sounds of Neil's moans drown out the professor as the fantasies in Andrew's head take over.

With Neil it is pure, blinding pleasure. He savors more than he thinks he should, like there's a limited supply and he's going through an army's worth everyday.

Andrew prolongs sex with Neil as much as he can. He's never allowed himself to feel this with anyone. He couldn't. For once it's not just about gaining experience or getting off, it's all that with Neil and exploring all the ways to make him fall apart.

So, Andrew still blows him in the showers after practice and ruts against him in the backseat of the Maserati. And through it all, Neil doesn't wait or expect Andrew to bring up going all the way.

He just enjoys it, enjoys being with Andrew.

"I'm still convinced I dreamed you," he spits out later that night when they're making out on the floor. Making out is putting it innocently, since it's quickly progressing into Andrew grinding his hips into Neil's.

They haven't exactly had enough alone time for this, not for a few weeks, but Andrew tames his desperation for it as best he can. He can't be that vulnerable, and yet his hips are moving on their own accord.

With Kevin visiting Wymack and Nicky off studying, they're alone. They can take their time, and they don't hesitate to take advantage.

Andrew can no longer contain the caged animal.

Neil pauses briefly to look up at Andrew, sliding one of Andrew's hands under his shirt to touch him more. Andrew shivers at the silent request, thumbing at one his nipples while Neil tries to make words.

"D--Do you want me to be a hallucination?" Neil teases, and leans up to bite Andrew's bottom lip. Andrew pinches Neil's chest beneath his fingertips, logging away the breathy moan to recall later.

"No," Andrew snaps quickly, almost against his will, and Neil's grin is so annoyingly brilliant.

They both already knew the answer. He's not sure he could handle that at this point. Neil disappearing, like a ghost with only a compliment as a goodbye.

Not again.

As if to cement this fact, Andrew bucks forward, the friction dizzying. Again, it's been a little too long, and Andrew's movements betray it.

"Fuck Andrew," Neil says, reaching for Andrew's fly. It's already undone, his belt somewhere halfway across the room due to Neil's eager hands. Andrew had told him yes, and yet Neil's hand hovers just over Andrew's groin in a silent question. Andrew growls, leading Neil's hand under the waistband until it brushes the wet head of his cock, and they moan in sync this time.

"Andrew I want...fuck," Neil throws his head back, the frustration clear. Andrew can't help but feel the same; if he could make Neil fall apart in every way he would, but for now his body craves the friction, the desperation of his movements.

This is how he wants to get off, humping Neil into the floor.

"Use your words," Andrew breathes, swiping his thumb over Neil's lips. Neil's pink tongue flicks out, coaxing Andrew's fingers into his mouth and sucking.

Neil's eyes are so full of mischief, his response clear: sure about that?

Andrew gives a slow roll of his hips as Neil pumps him slow, pulling away when he senses Andrew's patience running thin. The striker's legs spread farther apart for him, letting Andrew slot them perfectly together. Neil wants it like this too, he realizes.

A shudder runs through him, overwhelming and definitely something he'd normally lash out against. But this feels too good in the moment to resist, his clothed cock sliding perfectly against Neil's, and the thought comes barreling through as the heat coils tighter and tighter.

It's just like the last time they did this. Andrew starts thrusting faster, the phantom of the real thing while Neil's back slides against the floor. Except this time...

This time what?

He watches Neil meet each thrust just as desperately, a few whimpers escaping and mixing with the few Andrew can't help but let loose. He looks absolutely debauched, with his shorts hanging off one leg and his underwear damp. Andrew takes a snapshot, sealing this Neil away in his head forever. Hungry, insatiable, junkie.

What if this was the real thing? Would Neil arch and writhe even more? Neil always feels too good to be true, even now. He'd be warm, Andrew knows it, his ass hugging Andrew's cock, so bent on making Andrew feel good. He'd probably be more reactive too, loud enough for anyone nearby to hear. The fantasy floods in, and Andrew feels his heart rate pick up as his hips buck faster, the pace erratic and wild.

And that's the difference, isn't it? This time, Andrew doesn't feel strange to think about it, to imagine it. He's free to indulge, but should he, does he want to?

His cock twitches, and that's answer enough. The small ounce of hesitation is something Neil catches, because he throws Andrew a shaky smile as a bead of sweat drips down his forehead.

"You can think about it," Neil chokes out, voice raw and oh, it's doing a lot of things to Andrew which shouldn't be allowed. "I am too. Fuck, I want you to fuck me Andrew, so bad..."

Andrew surges forward, slotting their lips together. It's hardly a kiss, his tongue pinning Neil's down in a promise he can't say.

Me too, I want all of you.

The thought is so shocking, it doesn't make him recoil instantly. Something in him bends, snaps in two, and the only pause he gives is one used to manhandle Neil. He pulls him forward, so Neil is curled up at the perfect angle. Andrew does sometimes appreciate all the cheerleading stretches Neil borrows from Katelyn, he's so much more flexible now.

"Neil," Andrew breathes when he pulls back from Neil's lips, just his name. Neil's eyes widen, and Andrew wonders what kind of look he's wearing again. Can Neil see it all, how much Andrew really wants to rail Neil into the nearest surface?

It doesn't matter, his next movements make it obvious.

Andrew's hips piston forward until Neil is shaking apart, his orgasm pulling out a whine Andrew knows the neighbors can hear. He can't be bothered with it now, the unusual greediness he feels when it comes to Neil is second to his own rising pleasure. So close, so close--

Neil reaches up, boneless, and hums almost deliriously. Fixated, Andrew's eyes never leave the ring of blue in his eyes. Neil's fingers tap on Andrew's neck, right at the pulse. "C'mon, come for me."

Andrew does, it's obscene how fast he does. The words aren't even all the way out of Neil's mouth and Andrew doesn't have time to be upset with his orgasm coursing through him. His eyes close on their own accord, the feeling wiping out his sight for a few blissful seconds as he trembles. He's vaguely aware of Neil's hands on his muscles, feeling them clench with the aftershocks.

Andrew's stomach bottoms out, and he feels the rush all the way down his legs.

Never before, never this intense. Not with anyone but Neil.

He slumps forward, his body about as relaxed as it can be in Neil's arms. The urge to run after these moments isn't really there anymore, the need for separation either delayed or gone completely. It's the result of doing this...many times, and Neil's arms still rest loosely around Andrew, ready to let go the moment he needs it.

They lay like that for a few seconds, their pants echoing in the small space and Andrew licks the salt from Neil's neck. The striker has the nerve to give Andrew more space, welcoming all the marks. He doesn't even realize he'll be wearing sweaters for a few days in the blistering heat, if only to avoid Kevin's wrath.

Andrew pops off, satisfied with the fresh bruise, and savors the low whine he gets for it.

Eventually, he has to move, but less for the need to get cleaned up and more due to an odd feeling tugging at his abdomen. Neil's noises...they're troublesome for Andrew's self-control, and Andrew is sure Neil knows it.

The mess in Andrew's boxers is...a lot, and he grimaces as he shifts a little. He doesn't pull away completely, just to let Neil know he's alright, but he looks down at the striker with something swimming in his chest.

Neil's breathing is ragged, chest still heaving, and Andrew's eyes follow the trail of hickies he left on Neil's collarbone. The odd feeling hits him again, a simmering heat.

Unfinished.

Ah, so that's it. He gets it.

Andrew's eyes darken and he hears the moment Neil figures it out too. The redhead's throat clears, mixed with a moan as he sits up with Andrew. His eyes are still wide, pupils blown and covering icy blue in darkness. They're expectant, excited.

So, so much energy.

Andrew knows his smirk doesn't show on his actual face, but he has to fight real hard against it as he stands up. Neil licks his lips, tracking the movement as Andrew pulls the waistband of his boxers forward. He's a mess; his cock is slick with his own cum, globs of it sticking to the fabric. Without betraying his own emotions, he pulls himself out for Neil to see the state of him. In Andrew's head, the mantra repeats: you do this to me, you make me feel this way.

Neil's eyes get that hazy quality to them, the intense focus usually applied to games, and Andrew quirks a brow. Neil's glances keep flitting between Andrew's face and his dripping cock, not sure where to look, but eager nonetheless. His mouth is already open, ready. The fire in Andrew's gut is no longer simmering, it's back in full force. Not yet satisfied, not done.

His cum is about to start dripping on the floor when he finally takes pity on them both.

"Hey," he says, almost innocently, and Neil freezes. "Clean up your mess."

And oh, Neil certainly does.

Appropriately, Andrew is peckish after this, and Kevin had once again gone through the trouble of throwing away all his candy.

Honestly, Andrew could kill him at this point. Their deal is over, but then he'd have no reason to drag Neil out after 10 p.m. to try desserts Andrew knows he'll hate. His reactions make Andrew's chest feel fuzzy, and as uncomfortable as it is, he knows it's not a bad feeling or a particularly overwhelming one. Therefore, it's best to use for exposure therapy.

He's making Neil taste baklava at some 24-hour dessert bar when he says the words, unprompted and lazy, but it doesn't feel less right. For whatever reason, their moments of mundanity seem to coax the most monumental things out of Andrew, probably because they're the most grounded he ever feels.

Neil's hair is still a mess from their activities, that coupled with his scrunched up nose at the sweetness of the pastry is so routine, so familiar, it softens Andrew's edges. Andrew's fingertips are sticky from the syrup, but there's nothing filthy about watching Neil's lips wrap around them when Andrew feeds him the bite. It's so oddly cliche and cheesy, Andrew can't believe he did it without realizing.

Neil sticks out his tongue in disgust as he chews, pushing the rest of the pastry at Andrew in favor of his boring gummy bears (Andrew made him get something), when Andrew tilts his head to look at him. Really look.

He doesn't know what he's searching for, and he doesn't find it. It's a relief; Neil is the same, and it's such a comfort Andrew has to force it down.

His brain, always the betrayer, whispers: This is it.

It's not said in a romantic, or even joyful way. It's simply stating a fact; he won't have this again, and won't pursue it.

Neil's eyes soften when he catches Andrew staring, but doesn't call it out like he normally would. The striker rests his head on his arm, blue eyes shining under the shitty diner lights. They're back to normal, all ice, all color. His hand slides across the tabletop to brush Andrew's, not quite linking, but a constant. An 'I'm here' just because he feels like it.

The ease in Neil's eyes, brought on by all their exertion and from Andrew's presence, is so unlike the desire from earlier. It's apparent, but not jarring. This side of Neil is still one he knows, one he's come to expect without meaning to. There's something so innocent about it, so genuine, the words overflow.

"Neil," he says, even though he already has Neil's undivided attention. He wonders what kind of face he's making to get that kind of reaction, but then assures himself he doesn't want to know. He can't handle that yet. He clears away the tightness in his throat as best he can without acknowledging that it's there, and lets the realization wash over him. "Next time we're alone."

He's ready to try if Neil is. He knows Neil will understand what he's referring to. It's both a proposition and a promise, and Neil reads it easily.

He blinks, sitting up in that way which reminds Andrew of an actual fox. If Neil had the ears they would perk up, alert. His fingers inch forward, between the spaces Andrew has left for him already.

"You're ready?" Neil asks, voice quiet but resounding in the deserted shop. Andrew shivers, but knows the answer. He's known for a few days, but only now does he feel up to admitting it.

"Yes."

There's not much more he needs--or wants--to say. This is his decision; the mess in his mind is still there. The image of hurting Neil, or old memories surging forward in the heat of the moment. The shock of being so connected to someone, so vulnerable. It's all still there, making his skin crawl.

But then Neil looks at him like this, a mix of lust and some other emotion he won't name (won't assign Katelyn's stupid definition to) and it becomes a factor. Despite all the mess, Neil is someone he can trust and someone who trusts Andrew.

They want this, that's enough.

"Neil," he says when Neil has been quiet too long, that stupid look on his face, and watches him blush a brilliant shade of red.

"I--yes, yes of course I--" Neil stammers, and it's instinct for him to ground himself with Andrew's touch. His hand grips Andrew's tight, as if Andrew needs more convincing when Neil's tone is so excited. The striker's gaze turns firm, determined, and heat simmers in Andrew's chest once more. "I want that..."

No kidding.

"Stop being an idiot," Andrew snaps, but he tightens his hold on Neil's hand anyways. He's not sure who he's talking to.

Judging by the smile Neil is trying to force down, he knows it too.

"You have a thing for idiots," he whispers with a smirk, teeth pressing into his bottom lip, and oh yes, Andrew always knew this man was far too dangerous to keep around.

Too late now.

"Apparently," he sighs, feigning resignation. He leans against the back of the booth, and it's mostly so he can see all of Neil clearly. The disheveled clothes, the unruly hair, the sharpness. In reality, he's far from cursing his future in that moment. He's not sure if he can label the static in his abdomen and his head as excitement, but he has a feeling it's exactly that.

Troublesome, and much too powerful to try and push away.

Satisfied, Neil smiles and leans back too. They don't stay separate for long; as soon as Neil's hand is off his, Andrew feels a strong leg press into his calf. He doesn't even flinch these days.

Neil poises to throw a gummy bear, and Andrew opens his mouth willingly to catch it, falling back into their easy routine of wasting time together. Long drives, stupid questions and stupider answers.

Andrew misses three out of the ten gummy bears, not really trying. It makes Neil laugh harder when he misses.

On the fifteenth throw, realization crosses over Neil's face, and he pauses. The smirk turns deadly, razor sharp. Andrew has never seen Neil so vengeful, and the excitement only grows when Neil speaks. "You know what this means?"

Andrew raises a brow, and Neil inhales, giddy with his own spite. "We can finally kick Kevin out."

And he automatically knows what Neil means. He recalls hours spent holed up in the stadium, making out with Neil and wishing they were cocooned in bed while Kevin sexiled them for time with Thea.

The word leaves Andrew's mouth, as deadly as Neil's expression. "Payback."

#andreil #all for the game #aftg #andrew minyard #neil josten

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petracore101 · 5 years ago

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Ironwood’s Plan CAN’T Work

I’ve been seeing a good bit of debate as to the morality of Ironwood’s plan, and while the morality of it is questionable at best, the practicality of it is not. His plan is fundamentally flawed in several ways, many of which make it utterly impossible for him to succeed. Let’s break the biggest ones down.

Dust supplies: Atlas does not produce its own dust. It relies on Mantle and the surrounding mines for that. But Ironwood’s plan relies on dust supplies to maintain Atlas’s artificial atmosphere- supplies which are already low due to the Amnity project. There’s no way they have enough to last for very long, and certainly not forever. Eventually, supplies will run out, and he’ll be forced to make the city vulnerable again or let everyone die. And that’s assuming the dust for the artificial atmosphere even continues to work that high up- something which presumably has never been tested.

Mantle refugees: Though not complete, the evacuation has started. That means Atlas will have a lot of Mantle refugees furious that their friends and family have been left below to die. And they’ll all be trapped on a floating island with a lot of people that they hate. Mantle/Atlas tensions were already inflamed, imagine what outright hate and violence this plan is going to cause. The city itself will become a massive powder keg just waiting to blow.

Cinder’s Presence: Unfortunately, Cinder isn’t likely to sit still while the city’s above the clouds. She’s already proven more than capable of felling a stable city, but with all the turmoil in Atlas, her options are practically endless. She’ll be like a kid in a candy shop. Even with infinite supplies, Cinder’s presence in Atlas alone poses a huge risk to the city. And, though Ironwood doesn’t know it, she has Neo to (potentially) help her.

Tyrian’s Presence: If one sociopathic associate of Salem wasn’t enough, Tyrian is also on his way to Atlas. Granted he’s in custody, but he’s also in an airship with Mantle’s hometown hero, who isn’t likely to side with Ironwood here. I mean, the last time Ironwood had a big bad in custody on an airship, it didn’t exactly end well. And if he gets loose, well, we’ve already seen the chaos he created when leashed. But now, he’ll be on his own and backed into a corner...

Amnity Tower: Even if Ironwood could somehow solve all the problems in the city, it still wouldn’t save them. See, Amnity tower is still down by Mantle, grounded, and already partially retrofitted to become a high-altitude station. Given time, there’s nothing to stop Salem from finishing the job and riding it up to Jame’s fortified sky city. Sure, it might take a while to gather resources and expertise, but she doesn’t need to rush. She’s literally got all the time in the world.

Salem’s Power: all this aside, it is pure hubris to assume that Salem is somehow incapable of reaching a city in the upper atmosphere on her own. He has no real proof of this, only the idea that if he/Atlas could not do it without a relic’s power, then surely she could not. But that’s a massive assumption to make, and given her infinite life and literal magic, an incredibly foolish one. Salem is not all powerful, but the possibility that she is capable of reaching a city high above the clouds is hardly outside the realm of possibility. Of course, I don’t think there will even be a reason for her to need to. Ironwood has already doomed himself.

Salem told Ironwood outright- time has never been on his side. It has only ever been on hers. And while his plan may keep some people safe for a short time, it is ultimately doomed to fail. But he’s beyond rational thinking now- he’s driven solely by fear. And Salem knows it. All it takes is a little push, and Ironwood grabs what he can reach and runs. But, like Icarus, his lack of foresight will send him soaring too close to the sun. Not because he is carefree, but because his cares have blinded him from what truly matters. And so he dooms his whole kingdom to fall.

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fallout4holmes · 5 years ago

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Nuka-World 4

Holmes woke up not long after sunrise. I made sure he ate something, and we came out to see Gage waiting at the bar. "The Overboss wakes," he greeted, standing up. "Well, you came back in one piece. That's a good sign. Everything all peachy with our friendly neighborhood psychopaths?"

"'Peachy' isn't quite the adjective I'd use," Holmes said as he lit a cigarette. "The leaders have their doubts, but are willing to give me a chance."

Gage winced, "Hoo, boy. Not exactly what I was hoping for."

"Most of their doubts seem to come from the fact that this is your idea."

"Damn, they ain't gonna make this easy," Gage grumbled, and put a confident face on. "Ok, time to roll up your sleeves, boss. There's work to be done. See, this place is huge. Divided up into sections. Parks, whatever the hell they called 'em back in the day. We need to take 'em all back, one at a time."

"You hope that having more space will prevent the chance of someone… doing something rash."

Gage chuckled, "That's one way to put it. Every section we secure gives us a little more breathing room, and more resources. And it'd be good to have a few less threats surrounding us, too."

As much as I hated to admit it, it made sense. Gage was smarter than he looked. Spending time away from raider central might also be something Holmes and I could work to our advantage, assuming we survived.

Gage continued explaining, "You stake a claim, plant a little flag for one of the gangs, and that settles it. That park is theirs for good. Who gets what, that'll be your call. Whoever you hand it off to will appreciate it, but the others might get a little jealous. You know how it goes."

To say I was skeptical would be an understatement. "Plant a flag? Are you serious?"

"Dead serious," he shot me a hard stare and focused on Holmes. "Look, you leave it up to anyone else, the gangs'll all just fight over who deserves the space. Lot of these idiots can't read, so it needs to be as plain as day for them to get on board. They know what to watch for. So that's it. Nice and simple, right?" He grinned, "And hey—we're in this together, so I might as well go all-in. You want me watching your back, you just say the word."

"No thanks," I fumed.

Gage ignored me, but made his case to Holmes, "C'mon boss, you gonna turn down another gun?"

Holmes was unimpressed, "At this moment, yes. My partner and I are equipped to handle whatever this park may throw at us."

Gage shrugged, "Suit yourself. Change your mind, I'll be around."

Holmes took the sack of flags Gage had whipped up and we headed out.

“Are we really doing this?” I asked in a low voice as we walked.

“Clearing out the parks could be of use to the traders in the long run,” Holmes murmured back.

“Not if they’re populated with raiders,” I grumbled.

Holmes didn’t respond, and I started to get concerned as he kept walking all the way to the front gate. “Holmes. You think they’re going to let us…” Holmes walked right out the front gate of the park without anyone saying a word. “... never mind.”

Of course, it wasn’t hard to see why the raiders weren’t worried about us flying the coop. The collapsed remains of a highway decorated the vast emptiness in front of us, the dust of a post-apocalyptic parking lot, mountains in the distance.

My fingers brushed his, "Long walk back home."

The corner of his mouth quirked in the smallest grin. “Indeed. Come, we can talk without fear of being overheard if we stay outside the walls.” He started moving, following a walkway around the east side of the park. I followed close behind. “Hopefully we can find something in these other parks we can use to our advantage,” he said. “I also need more information on the threats Gage mentioned.”

“How about giant crickets?” I asked and drew my gun as three of the overgrown insects leaped straight for us.

“Not exactly what I had in mind,” Holmes said as he slashed at them with his blade.

Hopping horrors dispatched, we kept walking. “Wonder what other delightful surprises we’ll find,” I joked.

"Have you given any thought to Dr. Bridgeman's idea?" Holmes asked.

"Killing the leaders and hoping the rest of the raiders spontaneously give up?"

He chuckled at my skepticism. "She's at least correct in that the leaders will have to be killed."

"And all three live in places with only one way in or out."

"Perhaps we can turn them against each other somehow."

"All three at once?"

Holmes was pensive. I let him think.

“You realize we’re walking right toward the kid’s park?” I asked after a bit.

“What gave it away, the ferris wheel or the giant lollipops in front of the gate?”

“Don’t get snarky just because you’re in a bad mood.”

We walked through the gate to the Kiddie Kingdom. Right on cue, a voice came on over the ancient PA system, “Well now, friends, it seems we have another uninvited guest to the park.”

I sighed, “Sherlock, if we have to run through another goddamn gauntlet, then you’re sleeping on the sofa.”

He smirked as he drew his gun and I followed suit. “You don’t use the bed unless I’m in it, Nick.”

“It’s the principal of the thing.”

The voice over the speakers was still talking, a ringmaster to whatever twisted circus we’d just stepped into, “Up! Up, performers! It's time for another show! Though I doubt you'll even make it to the Theater, stranger.” We started moving further into the park, and Holmes’s Pip-Boy started clicking real fast. “Shall we take bets on where this one shuffles off? What do you think, friends, the tunnels? The Fun House?” The voice laughed maniacally, and ferals shambled out of the rust.

“That your geiger counter doing cartwheels?” I shouted to my partner as we fired on the ferals.

“Yes! And I don’t think it’s just the ferals!”

First batch of ferals down, I realized Holmes was right. There was a haze across the park, a radioactive mist. “It’s got nothing on Far Harbor’s fog,” I grumbled, “but we shouldn’t linger all the same.”

“Valentine, look at these ferals. They’re wearing face paint. It’s fresh, recently applied.”

“How the heck does a person get close enough to a feral to paint its face without losing a limb in the process?”

“Let’s find out,” he said, and headed further into the park.

Kiddie Kingdom may have delighted little kids back in the day, but now the confined walls and maze-like streets made navigating it difficult for two adults. Regular attacks from desiccated irradiated clowns didn’t help, nor did the mocking voice that followed us everywhere.

“Do you enjoy that lovely glowing mist?” the voice laughed as a feral knocked Holmes under a mist-sprayer turned deadly, “Feels great to us! Why, we've got sprayers all over Kiddie Kingdom to keep you cool and irradiated.”

I ran forward to help, shoving Holmes out of the way and blasting the feral in the head. It ain’t often I’m glad to be made of metal, but not having to worry about rads is definitely a perk. Holmes was already taking a RadAway when I turned back to him, a distance from the sprayers. “You alright?”

“I’ve been better,” he shrugged. “The man in charge here is a ghoul.”

“Yeah, figured as much. He said something about tunnels when we first got here, they’re probably lacking the mist sprayers.”

“Might be just as irradiated for other reasons,” Holmes nodded, “but worth investigating.”

“Where do we start?”

Holmes nodded over my shoulder, “Let’s try the Employees Only entrance over there.”

“Wise ass.”

The door was locked, but that’s never stopped Holmes before. If they wanted to keep people out, they should have bought a stronger lock. Once upon a time the tunnels would have been used to get employees where they needed to be and fix what needed fixing, without ruining the illusion of a fantasy world for the kids on the surface. Two hundred years later, a pair of old relics made their way inside, expecting the usual sorts of things one finds in tunnels these days; radroaches, ferals, mole rats of unusual size.

The bunk beds were a surprise.

Journal entries on a terminal answered a lot of the big questions. The employees of Kiddie Kingdom before the War had enough foresight, given the state of the world at the time, to make an emergency plan for just in case the world ended. And it paid off--they gathered everyone they could, employees and park guests alike, underground into the tunnels when the bombs fell. They were doing alright for themselves, until a radiation storm tore through. Lots of folks died from the radiation, and the rest became ghouls. They kept going, doing their best to defend their settlement and newfound family.

Then a hundred years later, some started to turn feral. They called it "The Affliction," thought it was an illness. Maybe it is, in a way. No one really knows what makes a ghoul go feral, but living near a radioactive water supply for a century probably didn't help. Now it seemed the only sane one left was the guy running this deadly show.

We made our way through the tunnels and overheard him talking, irritated. “What are you doing out of costume again? You know Nuka fires people for breaking character.”

A feral growled.

Holmes and I crept closer and got a glimpse into a windowed maintenance room. A man in a magician’s tuxedo and top hat was putting makeup on a ghoul. His back was to us, but he sounded just like the ghoul over the speakers.

"Yes, of course I'm kidding," he said to the feral, "but seriously, the clown make up helps scare the invaders off and there's a new one in the park."

The feral growled.

The magician sounded puzzled, "No. No, I don't think that's going to work this time. There's something different about this one."

An angrier growl this time.

The magician growled back. "See?" he said, irritated, "I can do that too. Now stop squirming."

The feral growled. If I didn't know better, I'd have thought it was apologizing.

The magician certainly thought so. "Sorry. I know you can't help it. We just have to hold out till she gets back with a cure. Then we'll drive the Raiders out and get the farm back in order."

Holmes and I shared a look. A cure? For ferals?

The magician continued, "We'll fix this. I promise." He put down the face paint, "There. Back in character. I need to prepare some more surprises for our visitor, so I'll leave you to find your way out."

That was our cue to get moving.

"A cure for ferals, Valentine!" Holmes's voice was hushed but no less firm. "That man is waiting for a cure that doesn't exist, and will probably keep doing so for eternity."

"All the folks here thought going feral was some sort of disease, makes sense they'd want a cure. Sounded like someone went out searching for one."

"If we can find him, perhaps we can talk some sense into him."

I frowned, "Hold on. I'm all for being noble, but I'm not keen on the idea of fighting more ferals and you getting a green suntan."

"We both know radiation doesn't cause super mutants--"

"I'm referring to how sick you're going to look dying of radiation poisoning!" I was irritated, thought I could hear the gears in my jaw grind.

“I’m not fond of the thought either. Yet, if we don’t have some evidence for our activities out here, we will attract suspicion from the raiders. The magician will have to leave eventually, and I would rather convince him through reason than violence.”

I sighed, “Alright. I don’t like it, but I guess you got a point. It would look bad if their big tough leader came crawling back without finishing the job he set out to do, and if they decide you’re the wrong man for the job, they'll put a bullet in your brain, or a collar around your neck. I don't even want to think about what they'd try to do to me."

He nodded, “We have to follow Gage’s plan, at least until we have the opportunity to contact the Commonwealth.”

“What’s that going to do?”

He grinned, “I have an idea.”

“You gonna share it with me?”

“Once we’re out of this death trap carnival. The first thing our ghoulish host said when we entered the park was that we would never make it to the theater, and the only place in this park with a theater is the castle. That's where he's waiting."

We exited the tunnels just in time to hear an ancient recording announce that tickets for Oswald the Outrageous’s magic show were sold out. At least we had a name for our tormentor. He was certainly living up to it.

Holmes was right; King Cola’s Castle was the park’s stage theater, where they’d put on a couple shows for the kids. One was a play, the other was a magic act. Now the magician was waiting for us on the stage, skin glowing under the brim of his hat. I’d heard stories about sentient glowing ones, dismissed them as just tall tales and rumors. Guess I was wrong.

“I’ll admit, I didn’t think you’d make it this far,” Oswald said as we entered. “I can tell you're different than the usual invaders, so I'll not bother with the usual tricks and illusions I use to scare off the superstitious.” Holmes and I kept walking, slowly getting closer to the stage while the showman had his moment, “When the bombs fell, everything changed. We changed. And somehow I received a gift. Actual magic. The stuff of legends. Perhaps you'd like to see some?”

Holmes and I shared a look and started moving faster.

We were too late. Like a wizard summoning a creature, and all the over-the-top theatrics he’d need to do it, Oswald commanded, “Up!” and an army of ferals rose from between the seats. “No matter what you do, I can heal my friends, and we will protect what is ours!”

“Damn it,” I shouted, “we’re not the ones you should be fighting!”

You don’t get a whole lot of chances to chat when a feral’s trying to chew your limbs off, so Holmes and I focused on the fight, just trying to get through until we could reach the mad magician.

“Well, it seems your asinine assault won't be dissuaded,” the glowing ghoul finally decided. “Then I guess it's time for our final act. Join me on the roof of King Cola's Castle and we'll see an end to this production.”

And he was gone in a puff of smoke.

“Holmes,” I grumbled, “it takes a lot to get me angry. This guy’s done it.”

Holmes nodded, “All of this unnecessary drama is certainly exhausting.”

I laughed a little, couldn’t help it, “Yeah? That’s funny coming from you.”

“What do you mean?”

“If we manage to convince him to see reason, the two of you could compare notes. It’s a shame you didn’t bring the Shroud outfit.”

Holmes rolled his eyes and tried not to smirk.

Oswald waited on the roof, like he’d said, a serrated sword in hand. “I'm not going to let you kill any more of my friends. This is our home, not yours.”

“We’re not the ones who just summoned an army of ferals to attack us,” I said. “Only thing we’ve done since stepping foot in this place was defend ourselves.”

“You invaders are all the same! You come in, steal whatever you can, kill the ‘monsters’ so you can take our home!” He sneered, “How many so-called ‘ferals’ have you needlessly slaughtered while ignorantly thinking you're doing the world a favor?!”

“Oswald,” Holmes said, and the man jumped. I imagine it had been a while since he’d heard his name said by something that wasn’t a recording. “We read the terminals in the tunnels. We know the radiation changed you and your friends, but you turned this place into a home… until your friends started getting sick. Are you the only one left?”

Oswald was suspicious, but when he answered he just sounded tired, “Over time, the illness took the minds of my friends... and those that we love.” Determined, he stated, “I am going to find a cure, and fix my friends before someone like you comes along and exterminates us all.”

“In two hundred years, no one has learned what causes a ghoul to turn fer- to get sick,” Holmes tried. “The only thing that is certain is that they don’t change back. It’s too late.”

“You're wrong!” Oswald shouted, angry, “Rachel is going to find a way to cure them, we're going to fix this!

“Who’s Rachel?” Holmes asked, alert.

Oswald calmed a little bit, but was no less defiant, “My beloved left this place years ago to find a cure to this disease. In return, I swore that I'd keep our people safe by defending our home. When Rachel walks back through those gates with the cure in hand, then you'll see, everyone will see, that I was right!”

“What if she never returns? How long are you going to wait?”

“I will stay here for as long as it takes. I've already watched two hundred years pass, what makes you think I can't wait two hundred more?”

I put a hand on Holmes’s shoulder, “Let the immortals talk this one out,” I said softly. He was about to protest, but Oswald was finally paying attention.

“I’ve never seen anything like you before,” he said.

I shrugged, “I imagine synths don’t make it out this way much. I don’t doubt for a moment you’ve got the fortitude to wait for eternity. You’ve done good, keeping this place safe. But I gotta ask… if you’re here defending the castle, who’s left to save the damsel in distress?”

He was alarmed, “Distress?”

“You haven’t heard from her in years. What if she needs your help?”

He shook his head, “I told her she shouldn’t, but she insisted… if I hadn’t been here, the raiders would have taken everything, killed all of our friends, family…”

Holmes stepped in, “Even if she’s safe, no one has been able to find a cure. To the best of my knowledge, no one’s ever tried. Such a discovery might well take two hundred more years, and if Rachel is going to succeed, she’s going to need help.”

Oswald was quiet for a long time. “Maybe you're right,” he said, subdued. “If Rachel is still out there, I'll find her and we'll search for this cure together.” He straightened up, “I'll gather what remains of my friends and we'll leave this place. Don't worry about the radiation, it will no longer be a burden to you and your kind…” he looked at me, “though I suppose it never bothered you at all, did it?”

“Nope,” I said. “Word of warning, if you see anything that looks like me, minus the fashion sense, it’s probably not friendly.”

He nodded, “I’ll keep that in mind.” He handed Holmes his sword, “Here, you should have this. Consider it an apology for misjudging you. Farewell.”

And he was gone, in a puff of smoke.

“Alright,” I lit a cigarette, “I’ll admit it. That trick’s neat.”

We both knew this Rachel was probably dead, but it didn't seem like telling Oswald that would have helped. And who knows? Maybe she really is trapped in a tower, waiting for rescue.

It's a pretty thought, anyway.

#fallout 4 #fanfic #nuka world #nick valentine #sherlock holmes #crossover

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codenamesazanka · 6 years ago

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You know that “survival of the fittest” phrase. MLA taking that too literally. :/ there’s no equality in their little shit of an ideology. I was wondering what’s the real life counterparts of the MLA? And what do you think will happen to them? Got any predictions? I hope The LOV just steals a truck load of moneys at the end uwu

Hi @shinakiraarts !!! I love you for this question because this is gonna let me indulge in topics I’m really interested in: evolution/sociology/bioethics. So, warning: nerd blabber. and super long.

First fact: You’re right! The Meta Liberation Army is shit.

The phrase “survival of the fittest” is often attributed to Darwin, but it was actually coined by Herbert Spencer, a philosopher who is now associated with the ideas of Social Darwinism. Basically, he believed that the concept of natural selection should be applied to human society - humans are/should be in an all-out competition in the struggle of life.

The ‘weak’ got their due in destitution and will/should die off, while the ‘strong’ deserved their wealth and power and will lead civilization to greatness. So, social inequality was the ‘natural way of things’. It was a very attractive idea to rich people already in power, and was often used as rationalization for exploitation, racism, colonialism... a lot of oppressive politics and laws.

There is never any equality in an ideology that believes in ‘survival of the fittest’ as social policy. It’s intended for there to not be equality.

The real life counterparts - or close to it - of the MLA unfortunately existed (and some continue to exist), and their ideology contributed to countless human right abuses.

According to Iceman:

“One's rank in society will be directly tied to the strength of one's meta ability. Beyond sheer strength, life has no value.”

For Social Darwinists, one’s rank in society already signifies their ability and strength. The wealthy were fit, the poor were unfit. And because social stratification wasn’t only due to class/wealth... The idea would come to include: individuals without disabilities were fit, those with disabilities weren’t; Western societies were fit, other non-western cultures weren’t; and one race above all was fit, other races weren’t.

“[Some] life has no value” was often the conclusion. This would lead to eugenics - making sure only the ‘right’ people would reproduce - and that turned into policies such as marriage prohibitions, forced sterilization, and euthanasia. The most notorious example is Nazi Germany; but the United States deserve a mention for having a huge movement that influenced the Nazis; Imperial Japan dabbled in it; and many other countries.

Here are the actual facts. Evolution is a law of nature - it’s the change in the characteristics of a populationover time. Natural selection is how evolution occurs - some characteristics that can be passed down from parent to offspring allow the individuals to survive better in a particular environment and reproduce. Because they are able to have kids, who also survive, those characteristics will become common in a population.

It’s really important to understand that evolution is just change. Evolution has no purpose and no goal and no foresight. There are no ‘higher-evolved’ creatures, there is no endpoint that accumulates into an ‘ultimate being’. Natural selection isn’t picking out the ‘best’ traits - it’s simply that some traits happen to give an advantage in survival in a particular environment and so they are passed on.

“The gazelle has evolved longer legs to better escape predators”

is more

“Gazelles with slightly longer legs hada slightly better chance of surviving to reproductive age, andthus came to dominate the population.”

BTW, ‘fitness’ in a biology context means “an individual’s ability to produce viable offspring”. If Iceman had his balls chopped off before he ever had any kids, he’s not fit anymore. He lost the ‘survival of the fitness’ contest.

A funny and often overlooked thing: the ‘strength’ that the MLA believe in, is subjective. Are we classifying quirks by combat power? Flexibility of usage? Impact on people? And they know that some quirks do better in some environments, and others in other environments, right? Oh, but I have a feeling they’re not generous enough to figure out what quirks are most powerful in what environment.

Iceman is no doubt very powerful and strong right now in Deika City, where he has access to ice, and to water to produce more ice. So what happens when you stick him in a desert, or any other arid place? And put him up against someone who can manipulate sand?

And what about having a quirk that isn’t ‘strong’, but becomes one when combined with a clever and strategic mind? Mr. Compress’ quirk is odd, not immediately obvious that it can be dangerous; but he’s demonstrated he can toss boulders at cars and rip off limbs.

Should Iceman be defeated by someone with a small, quiet quirk because he didn’t go to fucking school and learn, idk, physics, and the person did, I guess he deserves to die?

Or what about a quirk like one that allows a person to be immune to diseases? Not immediately demonstrable? When a plague comes, they’ll be the strongest person in the city.

A bunch of megalomaniacs with flawed, unsustainable ideas - that’s the MLA. Their society would’ve been shambles.

I wanna talk about the ‘law of the jungle’ the MLA has, in comparison to the League of Friends Villains’ apparent policy of ‘we don’t really care about your quirk, just be loyal and willing to kill and become part of Shigaraki’s harem and we’ll find a way for you to help.’

As cruel and driven by ruthless self-interest as humans can be, people can also be so incredibly kind and compassionate. Selfishness may have been a part of human evolution, but so was/is empathy and altruism.

There is the idea of aggressive cavemen society that weed out the weak - including the ‘deformed’, the old; but archeology also has evidence that early humans and hunter-gatherer groups loved and cared for their disabled, had helped them and each other survive. In some tribes, the old people past reproductive age might be frail and unable to work as much, but they served an essential function: transmitting culture. Watching the children, teaching socialization and language, telling the stories that will be retold again and again. The traits we consider to be ‘human’.

Culling or accommodation.

Twice - with a paper bag over his head, afraid of getting hurt, was limited in his quirk usage, trying to recover from a traumatic event - was readily recruited into the League of Villains. He - according to himself - wasn’t able to do much, so he helped out in anyway he can, and he became the League’s most loyal member. He was allowed to set his boundaries, allowed to be himself, and allowed to go at things in his own way.

The MLA wouldn’t have done any of that. Helping, finding alternatives, accepting, nothing like that for Twice. Just look at the MLA’s attempted ‘recruitment’ of Twice - break him down psychologically, force him to use his quirk in the way the leaders would want, probably kill him had he been too troublesome. Instead of succeeding, it backfired on them badly.

“Embrace your ‘meta-ability’, live as you like, and be free to be themselves” is the supposed values of the MLA. The problem is, they put too much weight on quirks, on training them and using them and judging each other by them. All their focus is on the ability, as if it was a single separate thing - and they forgot to look at the human that ultimately controls that ability.

Anyways! I hope the League are able to reunite and completely wreck these mega-idiots and break Redestro’s stupid L-shaped fingers and steal all their resources!!! Ahhhhh I love the League of Villains!!!

#League of Villains #Meta Liberation Army #bnha #mha #heroaca #asked #answered #nalslastworkingbraincell #sorry i'm really passionate about these stuff #also #did I spend a good chunk of my day writing this?#yes #i'll added sources another time #i'm so #tired #shinakiraarts

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bellatrixobsessed1 · 5 years ago

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Athazagoraphobia (Part 4)

Waking is hard.

She doesn’t like doing it anymore.

Maybe if she were plagued by morbid nightmares of being chained to the grate and devoured by unseen forces, waking wouldn’t be so dreadful. But her dreams are surprisingly pleasant. Mundane but pleasant; in them, nothing has changed. She is still Azula with a sharp and clear mind. She is still Azula with a crown on her head.

In some of them she had won the agni kai and ruled over her kingdom with a larger crown adorning her hair.

And so waking up is a terrible thing.

It is especially grueling when she wakes with her leg throbbing. She supposes that it is a good thing that her leg throbs with such fury. It means that it isn’t a dead limb yet. She also supposes she should be lucky that she isn’t bearing the telltale signs of an infection induced fever. Her leg has already rendered her remotely useless for the time being, the last thing she wants is for a fever to cripple her further.

She looks down at her hands, at her wrists, at her arms. Her arms are still bruised and both of her wrists have raw and scabbed rings around them. She makes a mental note to monitor them for signs of infection. And another to offer Chan a curt thank you for having the foresight to cleanse the wound---even if it was only to prevent having to waste antibiotics on her.

Leg aside, her main concern is her weight. If she was small enough to slip out of her constraints than she is small enough to have grown considerably weaker.

More fragile.

What a loathsome predicament.

No one has come to check on her and she is growing increasingly anxious. What if they had been attacked in the night? What if she is the only one left? What if they simply decided to forget about her and move on? Her stomach lurches at the thought. She never struck herself as the type to fear abandonment or isolation, and yet…

The only company she has is an image of her mother shaking her head from the corner of the room. Azula clutches her head, only momentarily before deciding that she has had enough. She sits up and looks about the room.

She ought not to, but she heaves herself to her feet--her one good one anyhow--and leans against the bed frame. She makes a clumsy one legged hop to her closet and pulls out several bundles of clothing that she had been meaning to get rid of. She tosses them in the middle of the floor before giving the room another once over. She finds a chair in the corner of the room. She hesitates only momentarily before splintering the legs with a blast of fire. She burns away the sharper edges before binding two the first two chair legs together with one of her old robes and the second set. She pries the armrests away from the chair next and binds those as well. With the remaining cloth, she makes a cushion, more for comfort than anything else.

She sends a silent prayer to the Spirit World that the makeshift crutches will be sturdy enough to support her weight. She takes a breath and gives them a test run. She makes it across the room and back twice before deciding to have a look down the hall.

The knock of wood against the floor verberates down the halls, reminding her of their apparent vacancy. She has grown to hate the silence. It leaves too much room for her mind to fill it. Punctuated by darkness her journey to the throne room is going to be dreadful. She wants to light some of the hall torches but can’t risk dropping her crutches.

Azula isn’t sure how she will approach the stairs.

She has the length of the hallway to figure it out.

By the time she reaches the stairs, the only plan she has is to lay the crutches across her lap and slid down the stairs, like an undignified fool, on her rear.

She scowls to herself, but has never shied away from what needs to be done in the past. She drops down and carefully slides herself down the stairs. It takes much longer than it truly ought to, but eventually she reaches the ground floor.

She breathes a sigh or relief at the sound of conversation and makes her way towards it. It would seem that these people, this gaggle of survivors has found the council room. Azula wants to be discreet about her entrance but there is nothing inconspicuous about the clunk of her makeshift crutches.

Every head in the room turns. Of the twenty of them she recognizes only the faces of Chan, Ruon Jian, and Generals Bujing and Shinu. She doesn’t know them well, but they had always held respect for her.

She hears footsteps behind her. Part of her expects to have a run in with whatever ‘things’ have these people cooped up in her palace. Instead she sees three more familiar faces. First, and most notably, is the wrinkled face of Lo...or maybe it is Li. Either which way, she finds the woman’s presence reassuring.

Only until she recalls that the last time they had conversed involved her banishing one of the two. She swallows.

Azula doesn’t have names for the other two girls, but she recognizes them as two of her serving girls. Like the generals, she knows little of them, but they had treated and served her well. “Lo?” Azula guesses in way of greeting.

“Li.” The old woman corrects. She detects a hint of bitterness.

“Is Lo dead?”

“Yes.”

Azula feels a pang of guilt. She, until her mind frayed, had trusted the twins. Was, perhaps, even fond of them. She assumes that the guilt was a little more than just a pang. It might have been something notable because Li continues.

“We never left the palace, Princess. We hid away in the serving quarters--you never venture there--and waited for your…” she pauses, “for your mood to get better.”

“Then what happened to her?”

“At the moment when Sozin’s comet reached zenith, there was a great sound. A horrible one. We thought that it was the sounds of war finally reaching our soil. We decided to find the source of the sound…”

“And.”

“We found it, princess.” She replies sadly.

“What did you find?”

Li presses her thin lips together. “Something beyond what I can describe. It is more like a feeling than a physical being.”

Azula crinkles her brows.

“It does things.” Ruon Jian speaks up. “To mind.”

Azula swallows, “Does that mean…?”

Li cuts her off, “no, you aren’t infected.”

“Possessed.” Chan corrects.

“Call it what you will,” Li shrugs, “the point is, your mind broke of its own volition.”

“How can you tell?” Azula asks, barely above a whisper.

“Madness comes in many forms. You weren’t right that day, but you weren’t feral and animalistically violent like the infected.”

Azula would beg to differ, but she isn’t fool enough to say as much.

“Forgive our impoliteness.” Shinu cuts in. “Have a seat, you need it more than I.” The man stands and Azula slips into the chair.

Bujing rolls his eyes, “always the gentleman even when society and its expectations are dwindling.” He slams his fists on the table. “You know what I think?”

“What do you think, Bujing?” Chan asks.

“I think that its a bad idea to have her around. You should have seen her on the days before the comet. She wasn’t possessed. No, sir, she was way ahead of them. Beat ‘em to it.”

Azula’s lip twitches into a scowl, only for a flicker before she wills herself back into a composed state. She supposes that the lapse in stability is still working its way out of her.

“She’s already crazed without their help. Look at her…”

“Have you ever been chained to a grate for nearly a week. Dehydrated, starving, making a mess of yourself--if you understand my less pleasant implications?” She pauses. “I can provide the experience if you’d like. We can see how long your mind can stay healthy.” She pauses once more. “Though you’ll have the comfort of knowing that someone will be coming back for you. It’s much more maddening to think that you’ve been forgotten.”

Bujing swallows. She has to admire his persistence and honestly, “you were breaking before then.”

She shrugs. “I assure you, I am fine now.” Now if only she can assure herself.

“What are you getting at?” Shinu asks.

“I’m just wondering why are we keeping her around.” Bujing replies. “When she can snap at any moment. She’s a danger to us all.”

Azula might have been happy to hear that she is intimidating even with a broken leg was he not discussing kicking her out of her own home.That sort of audacity will have to be snuffed.

“She will be when she heals, anyways.” He clarifies. “Right now she is just dead weight and a waste of resources.”

Azula gives an indignant sniff. “Clearly I can craft my own resources.”

“Then you’ll have no problem out there.”

Azula’s stomach heaves again. “Have you forgotten whose home you are in?”

“Have you forgotten that the world has ended. Your title is null, Azula.” Bujing smirks.

“We’re not kicking her out of the group, Bujing.” Chan says.

“I have given you a few reasons to be rid of her. And I’ll give you another for good measure; she isn’t just a waste of resources but she’s useless. She can’t fight them off and she can’t go out on supply runs. If we have to make a hasty retreat she will only slow us down. Dead weight.” He finishes. “Tell me why she should stay?”

Chan is quiet.

“She’s clever.” One of the serving girls speaks up. “We have a lot of fighters and scavengers here and we have a doctor. But our strategy so far has been...uh…”

“Balls to the walls.” Chan finishes.

The serving girl nods. “We go in with no plan at all, make it up as we go, and get lucky. We aren’t going to be lucky every time.”

“And when I do heal…” Azula looks from face to face. “It will be worth your while to have me around.” She holds out a palm full of fire. Should they try to evict her she has already made up her mind to torch the palace in her wake. She doesn’t wait for the discussion to conclude. She doesn’t need to, she already knows the outcome. “I will be in my room.” She preps her crutches and begins to stand.

“Have dinner with us.” Shinu offers. “It it’s no royal banquet, but it’s something.”

“I suppose that dinner is a good time to begin discussing a plan. You seem to have this place well fortified. You can start by telling me what you have already accomplished and what we are facing.” She looks to Li. “Tell me about the day of the comet.”

#Avatar #Azula #Fanfiction

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ff-translations · 6 years ago

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FF translations: Fondant Cake Fondness Story III

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5

Approbate

　　In this country, the power of God was once revered as the same power as that of a king. Even the successor to the throne must be approved by the Child of God* beforehand.

(T/N: although the translation for the text is “Child of God”, this passage gives off a lot of priest/pope vibes.)

　　My Master was the previous Child of God, and before she ascended, she handed over the task of protecting this country to me.

　　She said that I was a gift of God, it is God who let her summon me.

　　I have the power to heal everyone, and I am a gift from God.

　　Once, I asked her why we have never heard His voice nor have we felt his presence.

　　Master Attendant answered my question like this.

　　「The Lord God is a kind and wise being. You probably would not feel His presence, but He is always keeping an eye on us. When we are in trouble or we are struggling, He would definitely help us.」

　 I believe my Master, and I also believe in the one who's given powers given to me, the gentle but strong God who allows me to be able to heal everyone.

　　Following the flow of time, the country gradually weakened and theocracy gradually showed signs of defeat.

　　However, I do not have the power to change those situations, and all I could do was use the power of my tongue, protecting this piece of land that I’m on.

　　Because of my powers, a lot of people view me as the acting agent of God, and they would rather give up the freedom of a small city for their own futures.

　　By just handing over the autonomy of a small city, they can exchange it for my commitment, it’s really not a bad deal for them.

　　After all, no one can guarantee that they won’t need any treatment.

　　It is thanks to my abilities that I can be able to live without any disturbances from the outside world in this city, and can safely go through times of difficulty.

　　Through rumours, I found out that the king who reinvigorated this country went through a lot of interrogation.

　　Countless people used the name of God to ask him, why did he rebel against God’s decrees and stole the God-given throne.

　　They went as far as to revolt against his orders, rejecting his legislation.

　　I know, what those people are aiming for, it’s just the power and fortune that is hiding behind the throne.

　　I cannot simply watch them use the Lord as an excuse to martyr a perfectly qualified king.

　　That guy put in so much hard work for this country, it is enough for the Lord to anoint him with the blessings of being a king.

　　I carried with me thoughts like these, said my goodbyes to those that I am familiar with, and came to the royal city.

　　I think, since the day of theocracy is almost arriving, once he receives the approval of the Child of God, those nobles who keep using the Lord as an excuse would not trouble him with any excuses anymore.

　　But before I could make my way to the palace, the sounds of a child crying endlessly at the side of the street caught my attention.

　　「Little guy, why are you crying so sadly?」

　　I carefully went over and bent down by the skinny child, gently comforting him. I realised that he had a serious scrape on his knee and that his body temperature was very hot.

　　I looked around but I couldn’t find anyone that looked like his relative, so I couldn’t help but scrunch my eyebrows.

　　「Little guy, you have a fever, where’s your guardian?」

　　「Wuwuwu, my dad was taken away.」

　　「Taken away?!」

　　「Wuwuwu, because I was sick, he went to steal an uncle’s* money, so then he got caught.」

(T/N: I’m pretty sure this is not a biological uncle, by the way.)

　　Faced with this complicated situation, I was at a loss.

　　A merchant who was at the side hesitantly came over.

　　「Are you this child’s relative?」

　　The man asked with caution.

　　I shook my head and the man sighed, his expression was a little hesitant.

　　「My money got stolen, once I found out about the situation in the house of the thief, I did try to go to the judge to plead, even if it is just to wait until his child is better to continue serving his sentence, but it still didn’t work in the end. The reason I came here is to bring this kid to have his illness checked out, but he wouldn’t trust me. Miss, would you please bring him to the doctor in my stead?」

　　I looked at the weak, skinny child and the money purse that was passed to me into my hands and was silent for some time.

　　But as if he was holding back for a long time, that man pleaded to me endlessly.

　　「Even though I can understand the Judge’s concerns, ever since the new king sat on the throne, the laws of this country are more complete, and the country as a whole is slowly getting better, but the new king is too heartless sometimes. There was once a beggar who was starving to death but received severe punishment because he stole a piece of bread……. 」

　　Once the child was settled down, it was already evening, so I went back to the inn, intending to go to the royal courts tomorrow.

　　As I was about to rest, knocks came from the wooden door.

　　I hesitantly opened the door, and I saw a man who was familiar but much older from what I remember.

　　「Oh Child of God, it’s been a while, you’re still as young as you used to be, but I’m already so old looking…...」

　　I welcomed him into my room. When Master was still around, I’ve seen him in his youth before.

　　His father was a rare person who has enough foresight and was resourceful and intelligent. Not only that, his father was also an old Chancellor who was always wholeheartedly thinking of the people of the country, and he succeeded his father’s legacy very well, always working hard by using his position to serve the people.

　　「Child of God, I came over to look for you immediately after I caught wind that you were coming. That’s great, his majesty will finally no longer have to endure those people anymore. 」

　　We agreed to meet each other in the palace courts tomorrow.

　　Sending off the Chancellor, I looked to the stars of the night sky and prayed.

　　Here’s hoping that everything will flow smoothly tomorrow…...

Likes and reblogs greatly appreciated, replies and fun tags even more so! Thank you! If you’d like, please support this blog by buying me a ko-fi? :3c

#ff fondant cake #food fantasy fondant cake #food fantasy translated #ff translations #food fantasy

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dreamsicledream · 6 years ago

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Monsters in the frost pt 1 and 2

Heres my recent writing piece Monsters in the frost. I worked very hard on it. I’m posting both parts please enjoy and if you can reblog or send me a message with your opinion

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Pt 1 - Monsters in the frost

Ice began to spread across the mirror like surface of the lake and a blanket of pristine white snow. Yukon frowned his nose wrinkling. Winter was here too soon. It was unusual. How could it reach this cold in mid sepetember? Yukon leaned forward letting the water lap at his fingers in a part where the lake hadn't frozen. His mind was already whirring and turning over every possibility of what might be happening. The Increase in monsters... the cold was it related? He felt a sick dread knott at his gut as he removed his hand from the water. Strands of hair as white as the pristine snow fell in his face and he began to twist them around his nimble fingers tightly. His nose wrinkled as he ran over more thoughts. Were the monsters affecting the temperture? Or did the temperture signal that were monsters were coming? They were already struggling with the number they had. Vern could only handle so many even with the small blessing of foresight he had. Should they call in help? Should they have gotten someone to investigate the phenomenon?

Spiralling more and more as he tried to figure out what to do in his head, Yukon barely noticed his tail thrash breaking up the ice with each slap. He didn't even hear the footsteps approaching the cold snow until he heard a voice.

"Hey fish breath you going to continue to splash everything?" the snarling voice called from behind him. He whipped around to see.... Vira. Vira stood at the lake's edge hands on her rather large plump hips glowering at him with the constant look of mild annoyance she always wore. Her long pink toned hair had fallen out of the bun she always wore it in, now laying past her shoulders with various leaves in it. Her foot tapped with the same sort of foul attitude he was used to.Despite Vira's well unpleasantness, Yukon sometimes had to admit she was pretty useful for one of their resident monsters. Well monster was a harsh term except he had seen her change. When Vern was absent or busy they could bribe her to help out.

"Vira. Its the same pleasure as always to see you here" he retorted letting go of the hair he had been twisting to look at her and making his way over to the lake edge across the icey currents.

"Oh cut it. We both know no one looks forward to my presence. Shut it with the false flattery fish sticks" she huffed rolling her eyes. The pattern of her skin which resembled a whirling storm over the sea changed, flicks of lightning flashing across it. Oh he knew something had her in a worse mood now. He'd be lucky if he didn't see the claws forming if e didn't aggravate her more.

"Okay Okay Vira. What brings you here?" he sighed placing his hands up defensively.

"The magic in the area feels gross. So mister I know everything, fix it. also another monster interrupted my enjoyment of my snacks so I'm definitely going to filet you if it happens again! Ugh do you know how long I waited for my fresh donuts?" she snapped her fangs flashing. He sighed his shoulders dropping. Vira's ability to sense the feel of magic, had brought useful information. Yukon considered prying but he glanced at her scowl and impatient tapping . Best not to annoy her more. However he did know his own way to get information out of her. Vira was rather easy to please after all.

"Okay Vir I'll get to investigating it. So far I don't know anything. I'm the town mage not the the town detective. Why don't we go down to the bakery and I'll buy you a new box and you give me information about the sensations you're experiencing in the local magic" he said hoisting himself out from the water and on to the snow. His voice oozed charm and he flashed her his best smile knowing bribery would get him everywhere with her. Her eyes glittered and the patterns on her skin shifted. The usual stormy pattern changed to a more clear sky and she gave off a soft glow with her pointed ears twitching.

"... Its a deal" she mumbled and before he could ask immediately got his wheelchair which had been fitted with little bits to ensure he didn't dry out when he had to traverse the land. In one movement she picked him up and sat him down. He blinked a bit surprised at her speed. He chuckled after a moment.

"I'm so getting you the limited edition ones" he hummed.

"So why don't you ask the catpaw corp or whatever to help out with figuring out whats going on?" Vira asked waving her hand as she wheeled him to the village rolling her eyes. He leaned back looking up at her with a frown.

"Why don't you ask your father, mister developer of curses and researcher of immortality?" he asked but then regretted the words the instant he said them. He had forgotten in one split second about... her family issues. He could see the pain in her expression the minute he said it. He could feel her grip tightening on the chair almost enough to crack the handles. She looked away to hide her face.

"Shut up" she snapped a small quiver in her tone. He felt low. He didn't get along with Vira... no one did but that was too far. He regretted reacting so defensively. He tugged at his sweater as silence settled between the two... a heavy silence that felt like a large divide. He didn't have any answer of what to say to make things better. an apology didn't feel like enough.

"I ... wasn't thinking. Im sorry. We can do this on our own I just feel" he mumbled sinking down in his seat after what felt like minutes stretched into one long eternity of unease. She didn't reply. He had expected some sharp snap or just something. Maybe an insult... but instead he got nothing.

The rest of the time on the way to the bakery was seeped in that silence that made him feel disgusted. He wanted to hide in the lake again. She didn't even say anything as she opened the door to the warmly lit bakery. He twisted his fingers in his scarf.

"Can I get one of all of vira's favorites?" he called to the baker who just raised a brow and nodded. The baker scampered off in a second and Vira wheeled him to one of the tables.

"Vira. I'm sorry" he sighed. She glanced at him as she took the seat across from him.

"You say it again im leaving you in the snow" she retorted "I'm adding a milk boba tea to your tab". He felt immediate relief when she responded finally. Yukon paused a moment though thinking of how to ask her the questions he had about the local magic. He needed to know what felt strange to her but it was hard to understand something he never quite had an experience with.

"Vir? Okay try to explain it to me whats wrong with the magic" he mumbled.

"It feels like its falling apart... unstable. You know what I mean? Like something is causing it to fall apart and just spike and wane uncontrollably" she tried to explain as she got up to get the sweet baked goods from the counter and brought them over to the table. He began twisting his hair around his fingers again. Could magic instability effect the weather this badly? What did it have to do with the increase of monsters. He thought the creatures weren't the same as vira's species or at least he was pretty sure so they weren't made of raw magic.

"Does the magic feel similar when you encounter monstes?" Yukon asked plucking a sweet from the plate. Vira nodded as she stuffed a glistening donut frosted with a pink glaze in her mouth. The gears in Yukon's mind began to turn. He felt like he was on to something but he didn't have the full grasp on it yet.

=====================================

Pt 2 - Monsters in the frost

Yukon's fingers tapped along the side of his cup. He felt his brow wrinkle as he stared into the depths of the coffee thinking. It felt like he was turning over a puzzle box in his mind without all the pieces. The magic around the creatures was off but what did it mean? Was it decayed magic? Or merely some sort of more dark magic twisted in some manner? Could the creatures be beings made of magic or maybe were they synthetic? Every question turned in his mind as he tried to piece together what his next course was. They could capture the creature maybe... vern wouldn't agree with that as the town protector but... if it led to answers maybe he needed to do that. He stared down into the depths of the cup thinking it over more.

"Vira... Could you track one?" he asked quietly as he leaned forward in his wheelchair, his icey toned eyes met her sea blue ones "I want to catch one... to figure things out".

Vira leaned back scrunching her brows together in a more thoughtful look than her usual glares. She stirred her coffee crumbling a little cookie into it.

"Yeah of course i can fishfilet but your idea sounds pretty peak dumbass. Youre not exactly combat skilled in a wheelchair. Im guessing you know lovesick fool vern isn't going to agree either especially considering hes kind of getting a family started" Vira noted rolling her eyes as she mentioned vern "... I'll do it. Guess I'll have to be your big guns too? We'll have to get one out of Vern's radar though. Hes quick when it comes to sensing them and getting there to take care of it"

She was right. They'd need to find one far enough from the village, Vern wouldn't get it. He took a swig of the coffee in his hands wondering if his closest friend would see this as a betrayal. He set the cup down and raked his fingers his hair. His eyes glanced out the window watching snow drift down in glistening crystals covering more of the town. if the monsters and weather were linked... it was more important to fix things than worry about hurting his friend's feelings. The shifting of the weather could leave their town lower on resources.. he dreaded the idea of the village running out of food.

He didn't realize his expression had scrunched up so much until Vira flicked a tiny folded paper napkin at him breaking his focus. His gaze flitted to her. Her pink hair fell in wavey strands in her face and deep blue eyes gazed at him from behind large owl rim glasses. Her round features made her glare a bit less frightening than she probably intended and her rounded nose wrinkled as she stuck her tongue out at him before getting up.

"We better get wheeling. I've got business this evening" Vira said before he could even ask her to come with him like she knew he would. His tail flicked with a slight amusement before resting in its usual spot on the wheelchair once again.

“Thank you Vira. So where are we headed?” he chuckled with a grin at up at her as she made her way to behind the chair.

“Theres a little art studio well outside the village. Its way out of Vern’s range and I can sense there might be a monster on the way there. We could take advantage of the fact its a repurposed store room and use it to box in the creature possibly. Worst case, you could probably enchant some rope to hold the creature. Still the large space gives us an edge.” she mumbled flicking a few strands of pink hair back. He nodded as she wheeled him out of the warm golden glow of the bakery into the glistening white. The cold air stung a bit. Yukon could see the warm whisps of his breath dance in the icy air before disappearing. His fingers tugged at the fabric of his gloves as the snow crunched beneath the wheels and trails of snow formed in their wake as they made their way through the winding streets like a maze of snowy cottages. He could see families in their homes lighting the fires, and preparing the thick winter blankets all around him. The hints of oranges from the windows the only thing breaking up the white that seemed to stetch over everything. The further they got to the edge of town the quieter things got. He no longer heard people humming as they got carried their firewood or talking as they walked through the cold. Oranges stopped laying across the pure white leaving only an empty expanse before them instead of the usual fields. It felt like it went on forever.

Vira who had been quiet began a soft tune in a language he hadn’t heard as they walked. He felt his jaw drop agape. She never sung. Or at least he hadn’t ever heard her sing. Her voice was soft, high pitched in a sort of gentle way as she sung. The wind whistled an accompaniment to her song. He didn’t want to say anything to break the moment. He just wanted to listen.Yukon couldn’t help wondering if this was her native language she sung in. He knew she didn’t speak her culture’s language usually. There were…. issues with her and her own culture. He knew the sort of hate in her expression whenever she spoke about how she grew up in short moments. Her mother… had regrettably passed leaving her in the care of her father. Her father was a man whose obsession was his research and his first wife… her sister’s mother. Well half-sister to be more exact. Her half-sister was the golden girl of the family. Praised and adored by so many who met her no matter what she did while Vira had always struggled to just be worth some shred of praise. Eventually that enviroment hit some boiling point. Something happened Vira didn’t ever speak of and she had ended up here… researching magic from the catacombs under the city, that he understood was forbidden. He had asked her about her research and magic more in depth but she’d shrug it off. Sometimes when he asked she’d be colder and sharper than usual aiming purposeful insults to push him away. She didn’t lie to him though. Thats the thing despite all her oddity… she and vern would never lie to him to manipulate him. They might beat around the bush or be clumsy socially but he knew they had no sort of talent with manipulation or lies. Vira would tell someone to shut up and shove it before lieing and Vern well… Vern was just the world’s worst liar. He could trust them. Even if she protested, Vira would always defend him and Vern.

He chucked a bit at his own nostalgia which caused Vira to stop suddenly. He lurched forward in his seat at the sudden stop and turned back to look at her. Snow settled on her pink eyelashes and the rim of her spectables, Her deep usually teal skin tone had shifted to a more soft lighter blue that cast a small faint glow across the snow. The little cloud like pattern of her skin seemed absent of thunder currently although he could see one or two as she glared at him pressing up her glasses.

“You interrupted my song” she huffed.

“Sorry I was just thinking about things. Nostalgic sort of sensations” he informed her. She stuck her tongue out wrinkling her nose.

“Sentimentality? Gross. “ she replied as she continued wheeling “I’m just going to toss you in the first pool of water we find if you keep this weird stuff up”

“Oh? How cold. How could my favorite witch do this to me? Toss me cold and alone into the waters of the winter where I might become some fish popsicle.” he said dramatically with a grin playfully.

“Keep tempting your luck. Just go on. I know you like the ice. “ she retorted with a little grumpy huff that created a little cloud of warmth when she exhaled. He couldn’t help grinning more at her obvious annoyance.

“Well then miss lovely Vira are we almost there” he hummed leaning back. He watched her ears wiggled and her skin shift to shades of bright teals across her face. Embarassment? Well that was new.

“Shut up! Oh my god you’re such a wind bag. We’re really close now” she snapped and immediately tried to adjust his view forward. He chuckled again a bit quieter this time to himself as he watched the shape of the artists studio come into view as they rolled down one of the hills decorated the countryside. Large skylights decorated the slope roof, probably letting in the light of the setting sun into the large building painted with scenes of vibrant places he had never seen along its concrete walls. It stood out, a burst of color in the quiet. The walkway was just as colorful. It was hard to imagine that a monster might of lurked around such a place. However he could see vira bristle. He could hear the snarl rumble from her body. He glanced at her hands seeing them distort in shape growing like sharp razor like claws leaving scratches in the wheelchair handles. He felt his breath catch in his throat as he glanced around trying to figure out where the creature might be skulking waiting to devour someone whole. Vira clicked her tongue quietly then gestured to one of the top windows. He hadn’t noticed it but one window was broken letting the snow fall through.

Before Yukon could even say anything, like a flash Vira was darting forward pushing the chair through the snow in a dash. He gripped the handles startled by the sudden movement. Ahead the sounds of wood ripping and breaking rung through the silence. Yukon felt his brow wrinkle as he frowned. His ears could pick up sounds from inside the warehouse. He could hear glass shatter. Vira paused only to stop at the door and leave him there before rushing in. He could seem her features had shifted as she had moved past. A familiar shape of her face distored from its human like features shifted into something more akin to a dragon’s snout with sharp horns atop her head and the flash of her fangs… he knew them well.

He grasped the wheels of his chair hesitantly as he gazed into the open door before him shrouded in thick shadow. Yukon took a deep breath. He could feel his heart beat faster and faster… an inkling of fear growing. Combat wasn’t something he was front and center for. He couldn’t just let things be like this though. What if there was someone in there who needed his help. Vira could handle trapping the beast well enough couldn’t she? Now he had doubts about that too. He took another deep breath letting the burning cold air fill his chest a moment before he began to advance inside the warehouse.

It was dark as he crept ever so carefully forward. The skylight cast rare beams of light over the dimmly lit studio. Shelves filled with paintings made a maze around him. He could hear some of the shelves smash from the sounds of the fight. He leaned forward in his seat trying to peer what might be ahead, his ears moving as he struggled to listen for sounds of someone other than Vira and the monster. Just barely he could catch some sounds. The distant scared gasps of a person along with small hiccups. It felt so close but still so far. The racks of paintings obscured the view but he could see a path through them to a little workshop area where he was pretty sure the sounds came from with an easel and small platform. His fingers gripped the wheels of his wheelchair tightly before he took care with each movement toward the area. Statues loomed between the shelves watching his every careful movement. Something about statues had always unnerved him. They reminded him of something distant like a strange foreboding memory at the corner of his mind he couldn’t quite grasp. Yukon shook it off though inching forward more and more towards the workshop section to where he heard the small noises .

When he reached the section he had been aiming for his eyes flitted around looking for the source. He could hear the snarling, and snapping of the fight between beasts growing closer and he felt the panic rise in his chest. It felt like his every movement was too slow as he looked around for the source. He wasn’t far off luckily. Curled up hidden against the shelves was a small burst of pink hair trying to hide in some sort of wrapped fabric. Yukon wheeled closer quietly. He extrended one of his hands out to the shaking bundle. Deep rose toned eyes peeked up at him from under a mess of soft pink hair. They were beautiful in a way Yukon hadn’t expected. Marks of soft glowing gold decorated their warm yet lightly tanned skin. Yukon couldn’t spot any clothes either under the shawl they were hiding under. He figured they were probably the artist’s model but where was the artist. He couldn’t help the curiosity about that tugging at the back of his mind but he took the delicate hand of the young man in front of his in his own gloved hands and carefully pulled him into the wheelchair atop him.

“Sorry about the close quarters but lets get you out of here… I’m yukon” he whispered softly as he began to unwind the scarf from around his neck. He drapped it around the young man in his lap. “I’m… meda” the model mumbled his voice quivering just a slight bit rattled from whatever had happened before they got here. Yukon’s thoughts wandered wondering if the artist, Meda worked with, had … perished. He pushed those thoughts down though as he began to unbutton his coat. Yukon carefully laid the warm fabric around Meda’s shoulders.

“Its cold outside… cant have you freezing. Wouldn’t be a good rescue then would it?” Yukon joked trying to ease the situation the best he could . He could feel a small chuckle leave Meda’s body and Yukon felt a small bit of relief. It was odd to have someone in his lap. Oddly close, he could feel the warmth of the other man as his hands moved to grip the wheels carefully. He could feel the light rise and fall of Meda’s chest as tiredly the model laid his head atop Yukon’s chest. Could he hear how fast Yukon’s heart was beating? Yukon turned the chair and began to inch it towards the door. He worried about the cold but cold was safer than claws and fangs dyed with blood.

Yukon struggled to try to make his way as quickly and quietly to the open door as he could. Claws scratching on concrete and the howl of a beast in pain filled the air behind him. He could feel his hair stand on end. His thoughts wandered to small worried about Vira. He could hear the shelves crack and break with each impact until right in front of him the two beasts landed. Barreling through the shelves scattering the ruined canvases. Vira’s changed form was pinned under the beast’s claw. Slick oil like blood stained her skin and oozed from the large gash across her snout. Despite the painful wounds though her jaw opened as she snapped her razor sharp fangs still fiercingly trying to dig into the flesh of the creature that loomed above her. The beast kept her forced down with its talons digging in her stomach. Broken feathers fluttered down on to the bloody floor from the beast’s own wounds. Its wings had been clawed through and some of the thousands of eyes decorating its shadow like form had been clawed out. The oil like blood of Vira mixed with the creature’s own on the floor as its beak opened. It leaned forward and Yukon felt like his heart might stop watching the scene.He couldn’t move fast enough. Every movement felt too slow as he rummaged through his pockets for something that could help. He needed something… anything he could enchant to catch the creature off guard. His finger tips brushed cold metal. It was a small retractable knife. Vern had given it to him in case of danger. This was danger. He pulled it out fumbling the blade out as quick as he could. He prayed in his mind this would work as he forced the feelings he was feeling into his own magic. He forced every panicked prayer and desire to save Vira into his own magic focusing it into the blade. The metal grew colder in his hands and in one swift movement he threw it.

The blade sunk into one of the red eyes then from that spot ice exploded covering the beast in it over one of it’s shoulder blades where its wings connected to its body. The creature faltered from the force of it and Vira snapped up in that moment her claws ripping across its chest before it could move causing feathers to fly. It stumbled taking steps back and she lunged.

Yukon covered Meda’s eyes as Vira tackled the creature down biting into its neck with her rows and rows of fangs. It twitched and thrashed beneath her. He looked away as he heard her claws dig into it cracking bone ripping it apart every time it tried to snap at her. He gripped the wheels with his free hand and took a slow moment to wheel forward. He could hear gurgling blood filled croaks from the monster as he left clutching Meda close to his chest. They weren’t catching this one… it had taken too much of a chunk out of vira plus they didn’t need to get someone else hurt. His stomach felt like it turned as he made his way outside.

The cold air felt like a shock jolting him out of the moment. He glanced down at Meda removing his hand.

“Sorry” he muttered quietly “... are you okay?”

“Thank you… for saving me. I’m not usually this anxious I promise… What was that thing? The um big bird? Well and the other thing… the one with horns and massive claws? The thing fighting the bird” Meda asked stumbling over his words as if trying to regain what pose he had usually between shivvers from the cold. Yukon let a sigh escape his lips.

“Thats one of the monsters… they eat people. They tend to plague this area since before I was even here. As for the horned creature, thats vira. Shes one of the people who hunts the creatures. She tracked it here.” Yukon explained raking his fingers through his hair. Meda glanced up at the man who rescued him as if studying Yukon’s features.

“You tried to save me even though you cant move as well on land…” Meda said softly “do you usually come with?”.

“Uh me? No no I’m the enchanter for the area. I enchant weapons or tools for people . I work with the hunters but Im not one myself. I’m here because originally we wanted to catch it… we want to find out why more keep appearing. I’m guessing you’re new here?” Yukon muttered glancing away. Now that they weren’t running from monsters he felt very aware of the fact Meda wasn’t wearing anything beneath coat,scarf and the shawl. He opened his mouth to add a question about that but quickly snapped it shut. “I’m a model. My artist had suggested that a change of scenery would yield to more creativity so we asked to borrow a friend of hers studio” Meda answered adjusting his own hair a moment “She probably would of liked to paint you… I was waiting in the studio while she went into town”. Well that answered many questions but still left quite a few. His mind wandered a bit to running over the situation currently. They had failed to catch the monster but they had managed to save someone. On one aspect but on the other he was no closer to answers then when he started. Worse, Vira would definitely probably be gorging on that monster’s corpse like a rabid animal till her wounds healed, have crazed. They’d have to make it somewhere on their own. Maybe vern’s home would be best. He could get the young man in his lap dressed then escort him to town so they could find the artist Meda was working with. Vern would question what happened though… worse Vern would be angry they hadn’t told him. Maybe he should of told Vern though. Why was he doubting everything? Why did everything seem to not fit together like he planned.

Meda’s hand waving infront of his face jolted him from his thoughts a moment.

“Hey, whats got you spaced out handsome” Meda chuckled with a roguish grin he hadn’t expected from the young man’s earlier demeanor. How long had he been thinking? Was Meda staring? Yukon felt his whole face to the tips of his pointed ears heat up with embarassment as he stared down at Meda watching the model’s tail flick mischievously. “Ah … uh I’m going to bring you by my friend’s place so we can borrow clothes” yukon mumbled straightening up his eyes flitting away unable to meet the rosey toned ones of Meda’s. He gripped the wheels of his chair and began to wheel away from the warehouse.

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djinmer4 · 7 years ago

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Foresight (Demon General AU)

“Hi, Nils. Kitty, I need to talk to you. It’s urgent.” Wanda waved to the other members of what was informally known as Genosha’s rehabilitation committee. Shadowcat was surprised to see the princess looking so worried, but dispelled any thoughts of trying to delay or stall her. She waved the others off and followed wordlessly.

Wanda led her up through the palace until they reached a small, dusty chamber, clearly unused for a long time. “It’s the old communication center, from before Scanner joined us.” She booted it up and started manually tuning it to a frequency. “Kitty, I need to contact the X-Men to warn them about my father’s plan.”

The younger woman crossed her arms. “I’ve been waiting for the other shoe to drop for a while. What’s his trick?”

“He’s got a mutant imposter taking the place of Senator Kelly. The imposter’s going to launch the Sentinels at Genosha tonight!”

“What? Why? Wasn’t he shown a future where everyone loses because of the war he’s trying to start?”

“He thinks he can control both sides and choose who loses. Genosha doesn’t have many allies and only the X-Men are in a position to stop this before it escalates.” Frustrated the Scarlet Witch almost hit the panel but the X-Woman grabbed her hand before it could connect.

“I’ve got this.” Kitty adjusted the frequency and quickly connected with the manor. As soon as the connection was made she started speaking. “Hank, we have a Code Guardian going down tonight here in four hours.”

“A Code Guardian? Acknowledged. I’ll inform Logan right away.” With that, the connection was shut. Wanda looked at her friend with wide eyes. “You expected this?”

“Not exactly. Code Guardian just means that the X-Men need to shut down the Sentinel program right now and that the details would take too long to explain. I also gave them the time and place where to meet if the mission’s unsuccessful.” Grey eyes looked into blue. “Now, can we think of anyone else who could help in the fight?”

“Where are you, you little bugger?” Kitty had searched her room top to bottom and still couldn’t find one of those little bamfs that she knew had been shadowing her every move. She needed to get a message to Seir, and this was the only way she knew how. The only other option would have been letting Nils absorb her again, and she didn’t want to spend however long tramping through the Brimstone Dimension just to find him. The first time was bad enough.

“Dammit, I need to think like a bamf. If I was a fuzzy blue ball of chaos where would I like to spend my time?” A moment was spent in silent contemplation. “I have no idea where bamfs go, but I do know other things they like.” She opened the minifridge in her room and took out the bottle of whiskey Logan had given her for a birthday gift. Pouring out a generous portion she waited. “Here little bamfling. Do me a favor and I’ll give you more.” Within minutes there was a puff of ill-smelling smoke, and a babbling blue creature showed up. While it consumed first one and then a second shot glass of whiskey, she attached a small clip to one tiny, pointed ear. The clip held a memory stick and a written note from her. “Now, take this message to Seir. When he comes back, I’ll give you a third shot of whiskey.”

“Whiskey! Whiskey!” And then it was gone again.

Kitty whispered a quick prayer to God. Genosha was going to need all the help it could get.

“We don’t have time to evacuate all of Hammer Bay.” Kitty declared to her staff. “And we don’t know what the Sentinels plan of attack will be. So I’ll leave it up to each of you to decide what you deal with first.” She grabbed a marker and placed it over the power plant. “I’m going to try to get the shield that Gambit destroyed back up. Each of you place a marker on what responsibility you’ll be covering or what areas you will warn. If you complete those, it’s your choice to either leave then or come back here to take on more. I will ask that you each accomplish at least one task before running away.”

Nils raised his hand. “Have there been any attempts to contact allies? Maybe the X-Men or anyone else?”

“Wanda and I informed the X-Men before we called this meeting. They’re trying to shut down the Sentinels before they leave the factory, but they’ll be cutting it pretty close.” She hesitated but continued. “I also took the liberty of sending a bamf to Seir, but I don’t know when or even if he’ll show up for this. Wanda sent messages to any countries who are friendly with Genosha on the east coast of Africa, but other than Madagascar we don’t have much hope. Neither Somalia nor Wakanda have the resources to put up a good fight and South Africa isn’t likely to side with us against the Sentinels even if they like our money.”

Nils looked over the map of Hammer Bay, then put a marker on the docks. “We’re sure they’re going for the capital first and not anywhere else?” Kitty nodded. “Hammer Bay’s surrounded by mountains. They’ll have to come up from the sound otherwise they’ll waste too much energy flying over the range. So this is the one place that’s guaranteed to be hit. I’ll take over the evacuation there.”

“I’ll join you,” said Sooraya, grabbing another marker and placing it beside his. “It’s a large area to cover with only one person and if the attack comes early I’m not afraid of getting hit.”

One by one each member of the staff grabbed a marker. Some took only one task, others took several. Kitty didn’t ask for their reasoning. When they were done there were still many tasks left undone and too much territory left uncovered. But Kitty only nodded and dismissed them.

“Katzchen?”

Kitty turned around in surprise. “Seir? So you did show up!”

“Yes. Wanda’s set off the alert siren-”

“I heard it.”

“And she had me evacuating the district around the water treatment facility.”

The Jewish woman paled. “No one took that area when I was assigning duties. It must have been hit pretty hard.”

“It was. Not just by the robots but when the facility blew it flooded the district. The whole area’s pretty much a bust.” Kitty looked sick with the amount of work that was going to be needed and Seir pulled her into a one-armed hug. After a second she looked up. “Do you know what stopped the attack? I know the Sentinels weren’t destroyed.”

He pressed his lips into a thin line. “Yes. Magneto reprogrammed them. He’s set them off to attack the city they came from. He ordered Wanda to follow up with Genosha’s army.”

“She’s not going to do that.”

“No, she isn’t.” He paused for a brief moment. “She tried to contact the X-Men, but according to . . . Forge, I think? He said they had already left.”

“Damn.”

“What do you want to do Katzchen?”

“What do you mean?”

“Wanda’s ordered that everyone remain on the island and not follow Magneto? But I can bring you to him easily. Do you want to join the X-Men? Do you want to follow Magneto? Or do you want to stay here?”

She looked around and sighed. “I do want to help the X-Men. And I want to make Magneto pay for what he’s done. But I accepted responsibility for the people of Genosha already. Wanda says the best thing to do is to stay here and rebuild and I agree with her. So here I stay. I’ll just have to trust that my friends are able to deal with the problem.”

She received a sharp, fanged smile in return. “An interesting choice.” He reached out and pulled her to her feet. “Ready to receive our next assignment?”

“Yes.” They vanished in a puff of sulfurous smoke.

“You did the right thing.” Wanda and Lorna looked at their friend.

“Did I?” asked Wanda. “Genosha, this place wouldn’t exist without Father.”

“Yes. Genosha’s your home and you chose to defend it. There’s nothing wrong with that. And Magneto may have founded this country, but he betrayed it by setting it up to get destroyed as a means of furthering his cause.” If Kitty had any doubts at all, they didn’t show in her face or voice. “But it’s alright to feel sad about banishing him too. He was your father and you both loved him very much.”

“But he was a bad person,” said Lorna. “Surely it’s wrong to love bad people.”

“People are people and very few of them are completely good or bad. And even if he was bad to other people, he was very good to the two of you. It’s not wrong to hurt over losing that.”

Polaris’s face took on a thoughtful expression. “So we weren’t wrong to banish him and we’re not wrong to miss him either?”

“Exactly.” Kitty might have said more, but at that moment the Scarlet Witch started to break out in sobs. The younger woman quickly gathered the princess (or should they call her queen now?) and guided her over to the bed in Lorna’s room. Wanda wrapped her arms around the X-Woman and started to cry in earnest. Deep, body-wracking sobs filled the air. Lorna stayed standing for a little longer but then tears filled her eyes too. Kitty freed up one arm and motioned her over. In a flash, the younger princess was also beside her and crying.

Kitty adjusted her position so she could embrace both of the devastated princesses. Sometimes it helped to be just a little further from the problem. And if she felt like crying too, well neither would begrudge her a few tears of disillusionment.

Seir got home and just wanted to go to sleep. Today had been just as physically exhausting as the first time he had gone to Genosha to deal with the invasion of Dire Wraiths. Emotionally however, it had put him through the wringer. The first time he had been there solely for the mission. He hadn’t really known the city or the people involved, it had just been another job for him. It wasn’t the same now. Now he knew the city very well, knew what the streets and plazas and gardens and what they meant to the people. He knew the people, had participated in their lives. He had friends, actual friends there, and he felt their pain almost as clearly as if it had been his own. They’d loved the city and trusted their leaders and been betrayed. The city was destroyed, many of them were dead and even if all the people he cared about had survived, the attack and losses weighed heavily on their hearts.

“Oh good, you’re back.” Ginniyeh again. He didn’t have the patience to deal with any of his siblings right now. “Jillian was looking for you.”

“I really just want to sleep, Ginniyeh. Go tell her to fuck Yidrazil or Ophis if she wants some fun.”

“I’ll pass that along.” She smiled, sharp teeth gleaming in the bloody light. “Father wants to see you as well, although he said he can wait until after you’re rested.”

Now that was important. “Did he say why?”

Her smile grew even larger. “It’s time to reclaim our place in the material world.”

#demon general au #Kitty Pryde #Shadowcat #seir

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theartofservice · 4 years ago

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236 Center of Excellence benefits and rewards you’ll get that show you’re successful. How many can you move to ‘Done’?

You know you’ve got Center of Excellence under control when you can:

1. Address data privacy for information provided to your organization as part of the cloud excellence implementer program.

2. Empower your business users to be value creators in the data supply chain.

3. Measure the business risk of using machines to make decisions and recommendations.

4. Leverage the data that you have to provide better offers and experiences.

5. Identify sources of external data that will complement the data that you own already.

6. Align business goals and the data that exists in your organization.

7. Assess the change that has occurred and make adjustments to maximize effectiveness.

8. Effectively track and report on your research activities to provide better strategic management decisions.

9. Meet the need for business agility whilst ensuring security and compliance.

10. Classify the processes within the Strategy group, or the activities of the Business Process Center of Excellence, or the processes associated with Corporate Planning.

11. Create the data or the environments today to test use cases.

12. Protect sensitive information as sensitive PII data across your enterprise.

13. Trace the path from what you have accomplished to what you will do next.

14. Best support the development of Big Data systems.

15. As data leaders best ensure that you are fit to make the most of and avoid getting left behind.

16. Use big data to model the impact of climate change on the most vulnerable populations.

17. Transform Data into Knowledge to support decision making.

18. Ensure your technology infrastructure is scalable and can support the required business agility.

19. Integrate your enterprise and cloud applications to your data warehouse in cloud.

20. Determine whether a power user program or Center of Excellence might work well for your specific group of users.

21. Use data to optimize supply chains and make them more resilient.

22. Share data across the value chain to promote smarter consumption.

23. Accelerate the migration effort to realize the business and technology benefits more quickly.

24. Structure your internal change management organization, staff it and operate it.

25. Monetize new sources of data to new create new products and services.

26. Find only relevant data when you need it.

27. Get access to skills that can help accelerate your project without making too many mistakes.

28. Build the enterprise business case for robotic automation.

29. Ensure a data driven approach to strategic decision making.

30. Accelerate the migration effort to realize the business and technology benefits.

31. Know when everyone has turned in plans/budgets.

32. Know when everyone has turned in the plans/budgets.

33. Engage with existing online communities in support of your core business functions.

34. Create/use data display tools in development.

35. Meet the rapidly changing business demands for new applications and capabilities.

36. Achieve greater business results for your own organization.

37. Identify the key drivers of business success.

38. Identify the key operational drivers of business success.

39. Maximize the resources needed for a Data Loss Prevention initiative.

40. Get the replacement CSP to assist in the cost of data migration.

41. Plan to involve stakeholders and business units to ensure the platform is used to its best capability and purpose.

42. Ensure you are compliant from Day 1 as you start doing business in a new jurisdiction.

43. As a future focused CFO and a key strategic partner ensure that you are taking advantage of the latest and most relevant technology trends.

44. Nominate a director using the proxy access provisions of your organizations By Laws.

45. Ensure compliance with business practices and objectives.

46. Continue to secure and manage the ever growing amount of information you handle.

47. Overcome the challenges of decentralized management, multiple Business Intelligence systems, and fragmented implementations.

48. Get buy in for data and analytics initiatives.

49. Make better business decisions by effectively leveraging internal and external data.

50. Get a group of busy architects to change the way they work.

51. Best present this information to enhance understanding and use.

52. Make a bigger impact on business results.

53. Get Buy-In for Data and Analytics Initiatives.

54. Create a powerful brand based on data and evidence.

55. Govern data that is not produced or managed by the enterprise.

56. Analyze incident and event data over time, places and individuals.

57. Make life easier for you, and What else do you do to make this work better for you.

58. Define the difference between Big Data and analytics.

59. Standardize the data from different connected systems.

60. Expect your organization to increase its use of Shared Services/COEs.

61. Assure data isolation in a multi tenant environment.

62. Plan to use what you get back from the video from the back end.

63. Build in the foresight for changes that you do not have today.

64. Expect your organization to increase the use of Outsourcing.

65. Leverage your loyalty program in driving your customer strategy.

66. Ensure Access and Equity in the STEM and Digital Skills Workforce.

67. Get involved in a project with other people.

68. Actually build an enterprise wide Center of Excellence.

69. Evaluate the effectiveness of your organizations pay and rewards strategy and practices.

70. Use the process called root cause analysis.

71. Identify applications that can be outsourced to reduce expenses and meet your organizational goals for sustainability.

72. Extend the ways in which you assess the influence of teaching and learning centers.

73. Prefer project status (cost, schedule, issues) and frequency of the same to be communicated.

74. Evaluate the effectiveness of your organizations retention strategy and practices.

75. Build an ecosystem of partners and drive value from them.

76. Identify and evaluate the right partners to help you.

77. Balance the need for efficiency and exploration with fairness and sensitivity to users.

78. Control OS level access to your EC2 instances.

79. Guide your organization that uses mostly Waterfall methodology to Agile.

80. Foster innovation while balancing risk and cost.

81. Attract and retain talent in your Shared Services organization.

82. Strengthen your standards addressing quality control.

83. Accelerate migration and unlock benefit and value early.

84. Leverage existing IT technology investments supporting BI applications.

85. Streamline this process to maximize your returns.

86. Make government perform better and deliver on your key objectives.

87. Get value out of your local compliance processes.

88. Assess your existing applications against cloud migration.

89. Integrate the Public Cloud while still retaining control of your data.

90. Use Programs of Excellence: A Tool for Self Review and Identification.

91. Implement a corporate BYOD program without compromising your enterprise security.

92. Develop and test applications in the cloud.

93. Ensure continuity as you move from concept to engineering to procurement to construction to turn over.

94. Communication project objectives to your teams.

95. Monitor and control activity to ensure performance.

96. Predict, prioritize and capture the value of AI.

97. Know that the investment you are making in analytics is worth it.

98. Know that the investment you m making in analytics is worth it.

99. Know your CoE is delivering value and is heading in the right direction.

100. Dynamically modify it in real time or in a timely way.

101. Become your organization capable of achieving your vision.

102. Decide whether your organization should invest in it.

103. Expect to improve total cost of ownership with the chosen solution.

104. Change that, and remain nimble regardless of your organization size.

105. Prepare the public to make informed choices.

106. Demonstrate to your customers or stakeholders that you met or exceeded the contracted requirements (SLAs).

107. Do you see the return on investment with an analytics strategy.

108. Prioritize goals and know that a particular goal is worthy to pursue.

109. Mitigate the risk of stakeholder rejection.

110. Facilitate adoption of the Performance CoE concept.

111. Define and implement mobile applications end-to-end security.

112. Lead your organization through the change.

113. Interpret regulations: through science or organization rules.

114. Squeeze out more performance, safety, lifetime, and value from batteries.

115. Leverage professional partnerships to enhance the learning experience.

116. Measure the effectiveness of a Cloud Operating Model.

117. Measure the effectiveness of your Cloud Operating Model.

118. Rate the performance of the overall management.

119. Make sure you do not just replicate existing IT problems in your cloud environment.

120. Know your approach to analytics is paying off.

121. Measure the success of a Power BI implementation.

122. Measure trend in customer loyalty over a period of time.

123. Build a foundation that meets your current and future needs.

124. Work collaboratively to promote learning and improvement.

125. Hire today for a diminished workforce 10 years out.

126. Strengthen your standards addressing group audits.

127. Organize to support such competing goals.

128. Prevent and detect unauthorized access to data.

129. Identify, mitigate against and manage risks to your organization.

130. Successfully adopt a Cloud Operating Model.

131. Control costs through predictable resource allocation.

132. Are assemble customer journeys in new and creative ways.

133. Reskill the Engineering and Advanced Manufacturing Workforce for the Digital Economy.

134. Build Talent Pathways through Industry Recognized Credentials.

135. Design public health strategies that address such influences.

136. Measure the impact of productivity (in person days).

137. Project a financial plan when you cannot measure hours or unit costs.

138. Know that your models and algorithms are doing the right thing.

139. Understand clients sequential regimen progression across the CODE network.

140. Ensure you set up your AWS account securely.

141. Run IT as a service, not just cross departmentally throughout your organization, and across multiple organizations and even organizations outside your system.

142. Stay in control of a complex intelligent system.

143. Deal with the continuous pressure to reduce the cost of IT.

144. Pick the right one to deliver the greatest impact for your business, as applied over your data.

145. Show a return on this kind of investment sooner rather than later.

146. Get better insights to increase velocity and close rate on your pipeline.

147. Acquire an understanding of the physics of the system.

148. Use The Six Pillars to create a competitively differentiated experience.

149. Predict the probability of success or failure of new initiatives.

150. Turn this feature off if you do not want it.

151. Position your organizations to embrace such a future.

152. Show ways to increase revenue per employee.

153. Estimate the cost of a large transition like this.

154. Communicate status (frequency, level of detail) to you customers.

155. Prevent disruptions to your organizations daily operation.

156. Communicate with your organizations Directors.

157. Ensure that community members can focus on participating in IT acquisition.

158. Approach the challenges of dealing with a potentially unmanageable amount of data.

159. Get leadership visibly and meaningfully behind the journey to the cloud.

160. Accelerate the adoption of analytics by end users.

161. Use body worn cameras to increase trust between law enforcement and the public.

162. Define the centers role and responsibilities.

163. Ensure your analytics operations are secure.

164. Use costing and budgeting for short term decision making.

165. Know when to do a desk review with a closure note versus a full onsite investigation.

166. Prioritize inclusion as you build your technical teams.

167. Know when things are good enough (the point of diminishing returns).

168. Encourage employees to adopt digital initiatives.

169. Reset your password or set up your UTD account.

170. Hold managers accountable for achieving goals.

171. Satisfy the most immediate needs while you build your capabilities.

172. Decide when to release a video that may contain sensitive footage.

173. Implement this in a highly available and cost efficient way.

174. Implement a strategic, cost effective BI infrastructure.

175. Best enable Distributed Mission Command.

176. Align your employment and training strategy with priorities.

177. Decide which Center of Excellence to use.

178. Fund a Center of Excellence and Innovation.

179. Measure the success of your cultural transformation.

180. Focus your resources on your most valuable data.

181. Manage IT resources in a just-in-time model.

182. Choose a discovery tool for your environment.

183. Plan to increase automation capabilities in the future.

184. Deal with problems that arise when you are working in groups.

185. Select the best environment for net new workloads.

186. Get the most out of your various types of channel partners.

187. Plan for staffing levels in relation to contact volumes.

188. Accelerate innovation efforts in the digital age.

189. Expect to achieve organizational excellence with such disappointing numbers.

190. Get results fast without sacrificing quality.

191. Most effectively reach as many of them as possible.

192. Assess the full range of outcomes for your potential investments.

193. And/or your department contribute to this initiative.

194. Tackle the challenges of AI responsibility, ethics and governance.

195. Build and maintain trust in an increasingly transparent market.

196. Ensure you deploy Azure in line with best practices.

197. Manage politics and culture within your organization.

198. Want to show up in front of your customers.

199. Effectively train staff in such new skills.

200. Develop strategic relationships with your vendors, partners and independent developers.

201. Best utilize the functions or centers of excellence.

202. Develop capabilities to capitalize on such trends at scale.

203. Decide your target audience for promotions.

204. Best target the highest risk, most vulnerable workers.

205. Read selected lessons without opening each lesson.

206. Find out if there are deviations from plans during execution.

207. Mobilize your digital vision across your organization.

208. Develop and integrate your first mobile App.

209. Maintain and enhance/increase the CI talent pool.

210. Wish to receive notification of the correction.

211. Deliver the right intervention to prevent crime.

212. Organize to fight turnover and maximize results.

213. Facilitate this with the least amount of effort.

214. Enable an efficient transformation function.

215. Determine which incidents require a lessons learned report.

216. Coordinate all of the moving parts of a new implementation.

217. Be sure that only those who are legitimately sick receive treatment.

218. Create e infrastructures that overcome fragmentation.

219. Create the right conditions for alignment.

220. Maximize the ROI of incentive compensation.

221. Know each facility maintains its quality.

222. Model various operational scenarios and potential outcomes.

223. Manage different versions of the plans/budgets during the process.

224. Address over or under allocation variances.

225. Enhance collaborations across large facilities and CI projects.

226. Transparently intercept mobile requests and redirect them to the cloud.

227. Ensure questions or requests are quickly and correctly addressed.

228. Manage dimensions across ERPs and other systems.

229. Ensure that you migrate workloads correctly and quickly to the cloud.

230. Distinguish between what is actually good from what only seems to be good.

231. Support newcomers social emotional needs.

232. Order the required Pathway application manual for your organization.

233. Propose that you then consolidate that information.

234. Deal with the plethora of potential projects.

235. Address deviations from those guidelines.

236. Build a CI community: what are the impediments and opportunities.

To visualize the Center of Excellence work and manage it, I have built a Center of Excellence Kanban board that is broken down into 1142 Work Items that are prioritized into their Workflows. It’s for where to get started on your current or impending Center of Excellence journey.

How many tasks can you move to Done?

Check it out here: https://theartofservice.com/Center-of-Excellence-Kanban

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itsadvertising · 5 years ago

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What is Digital Advertising? A Comprehensive Guide

We’re long past the days when purchasing an ad on TV or the radio was enough to improve your sales significantly

Digital advertising has become the most important channel for marketers and businesses around the world for a good reason—more and more people are going online to make purchasing decisions.

Today, 40% of the world’s population is connected to the internet, so advertising your brand online delivers the widest reach with the least amount of resources spent.

Brands all over the world are turning to digital channels, with total digital ad spending expected to hit over $333 billion, or roughly half of the worldwide ad market.

No matter the size of your business, you should always aim to spend your resources where they’re likely to generate the biggest returns, such as commercial video maker. Before diving into the market, learn the basics of digital advertising to start developing your own productive strategy.

What is Digital Advertising?

At its most basic, digital advertising is any form of advertisement that appears online, whether on your web browser, your social media apps, or other destinations and properties across the internet.

Today, digital advertising takes multiple forms and uses various channels including social media, video streaming sites like YouTube, Pay-Per-Click (PPC) ads you see at the top of search results, and more.

Most digital advertising is paid—when you place an ad on someone else’s website, or even on Facebook, you’re paying for it to be viewed.

What Are the Benefits of Digital Advertising?

Before investing in digital advertising, take a look at these statistics to see exactly why you should make it a priority:

According to Google, there were 3.5 billion searches per day in 2018, or a total of 1.2 trillion searches for the entire year.

92% of searchers will choose a business on the first page of their search.

64% of online shoppers say a social media video helped inform their purchase decision.

Social media user rates have continued to rise, with total users expanding by 13% from 2017 to 2018.

In 2018, digital ad revenues surpassed $100 billion for the first time.

The 5 Most Effective Digital Advertising Channels:

Digital advertising is often used as a catch-all term to cover several different types of online marketing strategies. These are some of the most commonly used:

Pay-Per-Click (PPC). This is one of the most widely used channels for marketers, and it involves placing display or banner ads across different platforms and paying for every click received. PPC accounted for $10.1 billion in ad spending during 2017 alone, with more than 7 million advertisers displaying ads.

Social Media. Platforms like Facebook, Twitter, and Instagram are excellent tools to reach targeted and interested audiences. Advertising on social media can be paid or organic and can range from sponsored posts on users’ feeds to viral campaigns, online reviews, and various content placed on your page at no cost.

Video. Video is quickly emerging as one of the most popular digital advertising strategies considering more people prefer it to written and photographic content. Video advertising includes traditional ads, but can also entail Q&As, small and engaging branded videos made with tools like VideoBoost, tutorials, and other “soft-sell” types.

Search Engine. One of the first things consumers do when researching a product is a basic Google search. Search engine advertising helps position companies to be noticed quicker. Paid search advertising will place ads at the top of results, but organic methods like search engine optimization (SEO) help your website place higher in search results.

Display ads. Display or banner ads are generally static images or graphics that feature your branding and a quick call to action. These ads are usually placed on other websites and are used to generate new leads and expand your exposure.

It’s worth keeping in mind that your strategy for digital advertising should usually be a mix of these channels, and none of them is mutually exclusive.

Videos are increasingly popular because they can be distributed on their own (on YouTube or Vimeo), embedded in your website and blogs, or even used for social media posts.

How to Choose the Right Digital Advertising:

It can be confusing to find the right balance of digital advertising channels, but it’s possible with a little foresight. Instead of trying to do everything at once, ask yourself these questions to focus your strategy:

Where are your audience’s online destinations? Even with social media, different demographics might prefer different platforms. Understanding how your target audience behaves on the web will help you hone your strategies to achieve the best possible results.

How cost-effective is this channel? Different forms of digital advertising will exhibit diverse results. Depending on your budget, tools like PPC or paid search advertising may not be viable. However, social media and advertising don’t have to cost you anything. By using tools like Swish, you can create short, engaging branded videos that you can deploy across different media at no extra cost.

What ROI is this advertising generating? This is parallel to the previous question, but it’s important, nonetheless. If a certain channel is slightly more expensive, but it delivers a greater return on every dollar you spend, it may be worthwhile to invest a little more in it.

Make Sure Your Message Reaches Your Audience

Digital advertising is increasingly a central part of most marketing strategies, and you shouldn’t be afraid to dive in. Take the time to find the right balance of channels and tactics to begin building a marketing strategy that helps your brand shine online.

What Makes A Good Digital Advertisement?

Although some people may think that creating advertisements and marketing materials is an easy job, the fact is that the best digital ads have a ton of forethought put behind them before they’re ever allowed to see the light of day.

Below, we’ll go over 3 of the most important elements that help make good, effective ads.

Catchy Headlines

Because you want people to see your ads, it’s important to try and grab their attention, hooking them in as soon as possible by using catchy, effective headlines.

In fact, although most advertisers only spend a few hours writing the copy for their ads, the best advertisers spend weeks, sometimes even months, trying to come up with the catchiest, most compelling headlines.

In fact, according to Moz.com, almost 80% of the readers that might see your digital ads probably won’t make it any further than the headline. Therefore, if your headlines aren’t compelling enough to make your readers want to learn more about you and your business, you’re going to have a lot of trouble running a successful digital ad campaign.

High-Definition Visuals

Aside from having a catchy headline, another extremely important element to consider when creating effective advertisements is to include flashy, high-resolution images to go along with your ad copy.

One report from Hubspot noted that including a photograph with a Facebook post alone was able to provide an engagement boost of roughly 37%. This is because images and visuals are typically the first things a person looks at before, even before he or she decides whether or not to read the headline and copy.

In fact, advertisers will often create ads that are mainly just an image with a small amount of text. With that being said, your images must always be relevant, and complementary to your headlines and ad copy.

Compelling Copy

Finally, in addition to having a catchy headline and powerful imagery, a good digital advertisement should also include compelling ad copy that includes a call-to-action.

Ad copy should always be creative, without being overly vague. In other words, it always needs to be easy to read, as well as being clear, concise, and relevant. Also, remember to always avoid using slang or jargon in your ad copy.

Remember that even though you want your copy to be relevant, it still needs to appear professional.

Finally, don’t forget to include a call-to-action or CTA in your ad copy, which clearly tells your readers what you want them to do.

So, for instance, if you plan on running an ad to drive more traffic to your site, your ad copy should clearly tell the reader to click through to your site.

Although this might sound pretty basic, it’s amazing how many people make the mistake of not including a CTA with their advertisements.

3 Digital Advertising Strategies You Can Implement Today

When it comes to digital advertising, it’s not always as easy to capture consumer attention like it once was. In fact, according to a 2015 study performed by Microsoft, the average consumer only has an attention span of about 8 seconds.

Therefore, if brand advertising materials aren’t able to captivate and engage their audiences quickly, in less than 8-seconds, they’re not likely going to be able to stand out in today’s highly competitive online marketplace.

But because the main goal behind any advertising strategy is to capture attention ASAP, it’s vital to understand how to use a few simple tips and strategies that will help ensure your digital advertising is as effective as possible.

Paid Digital Advertising

Although there are many different avenues that brands can use to advertise and market themselves online, today, one of the biggest growing markets for advertising is paid search engine advertising, usually referred to as PPC.

PPC advertising is available on virtually all major digital platforms, including both search engines and social media websites. PPC stands for “pay per click” advertising.

Therefore, when a person or organization is running a PPC campaign, essentially, they’ll only pay every time that an internet user clicks through and visits their website.

When used in conjunction with lead generation tactics and sales funnels, PPC advertising can be an extremely lucrative endeavor for virtually any brand.

However, in order for any PPC advertising campaign to be effective, marketers and brand managers must have a thorough understanding of their industry, as well as their target market.

Market Research And Target Audience

Before launching into any type of digital advertising campaign, it’s vital that brands take the time to learn about both their competition, as well as the audience they plan on targeting with their advertising and marketing materials.

By analyzing their competitors, business owners are able to learn about what others are currently offering in terms of advertising materials. And by better understanding your target audience, you’ll be able to pinpoint ideas that will captivate your audience, and that your competitors aren’t currently offering.

In turn, performing market research and a thorough analysis of your target audience is crucial for any digital advertising strategy to succeed.

By doing so, you’ll be able to plan a digital strategy that not only promotes your products or services but also one that is sure to resonate well with your audience, increasing the likelihood of a positive return on any of your digital advertising investments.

Relevance Is Always Key

Finally, no matter what type of industry you’re a part of, it’s vital that you keep your brand as fresh and as relevant as it possibly can be. And this goes doubly for brands that are hoping to grow significantly via modern digital advertising techniques.

So, when it comes to planning and creating advertising materials for a brand, they need to ensure that the message they’re putting across is relevant and is specifically going to offer value to the audience.

Think about it this way, if you’re trying to advertise for a clothing brand that sells t-shirt, you wouldn’t be creating advertising materials that contained information about pants or shorts, would you?

The same goes for any digital advertising strategy.

Therefore a digital strategy is always going to be highly-targeted and highly-relevant if there’s any hope for it to be a success.

3 Highly Effective Examples Of Memorable Digital Advertisements

Lastly, good digital advertisements also must include one other element that helps make them successful; they need to resonate and connect well with their audiences on a basic, emotional level.

So, to help you get a better idea of what works when it comes to digital ads, let’s take a look at 3 examples that you can use as inspiration for your next ad campaign.

Under Armor

A few years ago, the apparel company Under Armor launched an extremely effective digital advertising campaign that was titled “I Will What I Want”.

The campaign was mainly targeted at women, therefore, the ads displayed women what had accomplished a major goal through hard work and perseverance, of course, while wearing Under Armor clothing.

The connection with the brand is the fact that when worn, Under Armor clothing helps make it easier to accomplish hard, physical work.

However, the reason the ads were so successful is that they elicit an emotional reaction in the people who view them. In turn, this makes it more likely that those viewers will think of Under Armor when they think of accomplishing their own goals.

Volkswagon’s New Golf

Successful ads also need to be engaging and interactive whenever possible, which is exactly what Volkswagon did when it launched its digital ad campaign promoting its new Golf model back in 2017.

When displayed, the ad invited the viewer to click on it and to adjust a small puzzle consisting of 21 small tiles to “build a roadway” for the Golf to travel from one end to the other. But to make things more fun, and a bit more challenging, users only had 30 seconds to complete the puzzle.

One thing that stands out about this type of highly interactive ad is that it doesn’t even really explain anything about the car itself.

Instead, it draws the user in and keeps them engaged, making it more likely that they’ll click through and learn more about the Golf once the puzzle game has been completed

H&M

Wes Anderson is a famous film director and writer, known for his use of quirky humor, memorable characters and place settings. And this is exactly what the clothing brand H&M was thinking about when they hired Anderson to create a short video ad for an upcoming launch around Christmas time of that year.

On top of using Anderson’s trademark style, the video ad also featured the popular actor Adrian Brody and showed a variety of people traveling on a train to visit their families for the holidays.

Like Volkswagon, one thing that sets this ad apart is that it doesn’t focus very much on the product or brand itself.

And instead, the ad is more reminiscent of a story, which, along with its unique, Wes Anderson-esque styling, makes the video elicit an emotional response, and in turn, makes it more memorable to anyone who watches it.

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revisionnewdeal · 8 years ago

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The CCC and its Lasting Effect on Environmental Awareness

During the New Deal era, President Franklin Delano Roosevelt was forced to start a series of work programs in an attempt to try and revitalize the American economy. The first of these programs was established with the passing of the Emergency Work Act in March of 1933. This program was created to recruit thousands of young men to work in forests, parks, lands and bodies of water in order to further develop the conservation and use of natural resources. The program later became known as the “Civilian Conservation Corps” and was an important step in not only reviving a failure of the economy, but also a failure of an environmental awareness. The goal of the CCC was to conserve the natural beauty of the United States landscape, and to make sure that beauty would continue for years to come. By July 1st, 1933, there were 1433 established camps all around the country housing over 300,000 working young men, usually unmarried. Because most of this conservation work was being done in the western United States, the military was heavily involved in moving large amounts of workers who lived in eastern cities. This movement became the most rapid peacetime mobilization of U.S. forces in American history, and provided a large portion of unskilled and unemployed male workers between 18 to 25 with a source of steady income. Many of these men came from families that were entrenched in poverty, and was often their only method of providing any monetary stability to their respective household.

In the first picture shown here (Image 1), a group of young men took a break from work in Cook County to take a photograph. This is a very diverse group of people, and shows how the CCC stretched its influence all over the country in an effort to recruit a work force of young men. These men abandoned their homes in search of work, and they all don’t look too thrilled about doing so. But, at this time, they will take what they can get. The workers of the CCC had a variety of different objectives that made up the bulk of their job. These consisted of, but were not limited to the following: planting trees, clearing and maintaining access roads, fighting forest fires, re-seeding grazing lands and implementing soil-erosion controls, building wildlife refuges, fish-rearing facilities, water storage units, and animal shelters. They also built bridges and campground facilities in an effort to increase the interest in tourism around America and entice people to go out and enjoy America’s natural beauty. Each of these workers received $30 per month for their service, in addition to the room and board received at the conservation camp. They were required to send $22-$25 back home to their families to ensure that not only that these families would get the resources required to support them, but also that the money earned out West would be spent back East where it could be recycled back into the economy and help support struggling businesses.

The second picture (Image 2) shows men in forest fire training in Washington. This picture clearly shows the state that the people who joined the CCC were in, with raggedy clothes and not much else. However, these people were making a larger environmental impact than they ever could have thought. This picture also does a good job of illustrating the term that referred to the workers of the CCC, known as FDR’s “Tree Army”. It shows the type of camp and the large amount of men that were staying in these camps, which could be confused for an army camp if not for the wooden axes. The implementation and expansion of the CCC marked one of the first times in American history where environmental awareness became a priority of the federal government. This was in response to one of the underlying causes of the Great Depression: The Dust Bowl. The Dust Bowl was a series of dust storms in the late 1920’s and early 1930’s that were caused by extreme soil erosion from over-farming, droughts, and wind erosion. These storms darkened cities, buried homes and farms, killed livestock, and posed a serious health-risk to people who lived in the mid-western states at this time. Usually, people refer to the stock market crash of 1929 as the main cause of the Great Depression, but the Dust Bowl played just as much of an integral role in causing the destruction of the U.S. economy as the crash did. Millions of acres of land were rendered useless, 500,000 people lost their homes, and hundreds of thousands of more people were forced off the lands they cultivated to make a living. Between 1932 and 1940, it is estimated that nearly 2.5 million people needed to abandon the plains and farmlands that they called home in order to look for work elsewhere. Not only did this destruction and migration have a severe effect on the portion of the economy that was supported by these agrarian states, but also limited the food supply and natural resources that these states provided. Due to a lack of foresight, and the inability of these farmers to recycle the nutrients in their soil, a large portion of United States land was environmentally destroyed.

The next picture (Image 3) shown here is a form of propaganda, trying to convince people to join the CCC. The picture shows a shirtless man, in good shape, holding an ax with the words Civilian Conservation Corps behind him. This was most likely put out by the American government as a poster or advertisement, trying to show the importance and abundance of the work that was being done by these men. The CCC required one of the largest work forces of any non-military government program in American history, so it was necessary to try and devise tactics to get people to join. President FDR, having experience as the governor of New York and as an amateur farmer, recognized the root problem of environmental degradation as a lack of soil conservation and sought to eliminate these causes to prevent future disasters. This is why one of the most prominent objectives of the CCC was to plant as many trees as possible with as many workers as possible. Because the natural landscape of these mid-western states is flat plains, giant dust storms were easily able to gain traction from wind and travel for miles across these plains, wreaking havoc. Not only did planting trees in this area revitalize the soil, but also created a wind barrier for the farming lands that stretched for miles. By the time the CCC program was ended at the start of WWII, more than 3.5 billion trees had been planted on land that had been made barren by natural erosion, forest fires, or deforestation. These efforts by the CCC account for about half of the reforestation done in this country’s history, including both publicly and privately funded programs.

The next picture (Image 4) shows Camp No. 1, aka Camp Roosevelt, which was the first CCC camp to come to fruition. The men in this picture were probably one of the first couple thousand to join the program. In the background, one can see dead trees and low-quality soil, exemplifying the work that needed to be done to revive the United States landscape and preserve it for the future. The establishment of the CCC brought a new concept to the minds of Americans: how should we provide the efforts to conserve and expand the abundant natural resources of this country for future generations to enjoy? Before this, many American citizens never considered the long-lasting environmental effects of their actions. Although many of these people were not concerning themselves about the environment during the worst period of poverty in American history, it set a precedent for future generations to follow. And even thought it lost its funding due to WWII, the legacy of the CCC still lived on beyond that. Without the actions of the CCC, who knows the negative environmental effects we would be experiencing today. With rapid environmental deficiencies already obviously visible throughout America, it may be time to look back on the values that were established by FDR and the creation of the CCC, and think about how the environment will be for future generations of Americans.

In order to truly understand the Great Depression and the people involved, one must analyze primary sources from that time period. The pictures represent different aspects of the CCC, but help tell the true story of what it actually was. The last picture (Image 5) is another advertisement, one used on our class blog on word press. This was an advertisement once again targeting young men, showing a man with an ax with the CCC behind him. Just another example of the US government using tactics in order to get as many people to join as possible. Without this, who knows what state our environment would be in today.

Hyperlinks:

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=qpv-KYioIFc

https://www.nps.gov/media/video/view.htm?id=2C1D38FE-155D-451F-676BFDA5021C9830&utm_source=video&utm_medium=website&utm_campaign=experience_more

http://www.history.com/topics/civilian-conservation-corps

http://www.ccclegacy.org/Camp_Roosevelt_68B9.php

http://www.mass.gov/eea/agencies/dcr/get-involved/civilian-conservation-corps-ccc/

http://rooseveltinstitute.org/fdr-and-new-deal-response-environmental-catastrophe/

Kyle Hill

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