#Expectations vs reality in churn

[customerchurn]

The Psychology Behind Customer Churn: What Drives Your Customers Away?

Introduction

Customer churn is not just a business issue; it’s a psychological one as well. Understanding the emotional and cognitive factors that influence why customers leave can help businesses design more effective retention strategies. In this article, we will explore the psychological triggers behind customer churn and how businesses can address them to keep customers loyal.

Psychological Triggers of Customer Churn

Perceived Value Decrease One of the most powerful psychological drivers of churn is the perceived decline in value. When customers feel they are no longer getting their money’s worth, they are more likely to leave. This perception can arise from price increases, diminished product quality, or a shift in service delivery. Psychological Impact: Customers may feel betrayed or undervalued when the product or service they’ve come to rely on no longer meets their expectations. This leads to frustration and dissatisfaction. Mitigation Strategy: Communicate openly with customers about any changes, such as price increases or changes to the product. Emphasize the added value and improvements that come with these changes. Offering incentives or discounts to loyal customers can also alleviate perceived value decreases.

Cognitive Dissonance Cognitive dissonance occurs when customers experience discomfort due to a mismatch between their expectations and actual experiences. This tension can lead customers to question their decision and, in turn, churn. Psychological Impact: When customers' expectations are not met, they may experience frustration and regret, leading to churn. Mitigation Strategy: Be transparent about what customers can expect and ensure that your product or service lives up to its promises. Regularly check in with customers to address any concerns or frustrations before they lead to dissatisfaction.

Emotional Disconnect Customers who feel emotionally disconnected from a brand are more likely to churn. Emotional loyalty plays a significant role in customer retention, and if customers feel unrecognized or unsupported, they may abandon the brand. Psychological Impact: A lack of emotional connection can make customers feel that their business is unimportant, resulting in disengagement and churn. Mitigation Strategy: Build stronger emotional bonds by engaging customers on a personal level. Personalized interactions, meaningful communications, and recognition of milestones (such as anniversaries or birthdays) can strengthen emotional connections and reduce churn.

FOMO (Fear of Missing Out) FOMO is a powerful psychological trigger that can drive churn. Customers may leave if they believe they are missing out on a better deal or a superior product elsewhere. Psychological Impact: When customers perceive that competitors are offering more attractive options, they may feel the need to switch, driven by the fear of missing out. Mitigation Strategy: Regularly communicate the unique value of your product or service. Showcase testimonials and success stories to reinforce the benefits of staying with your brand.

Conclusion

The psychology behind customer churn involves complex emotional and cognitive factors that influence customer decisions. By understanding these triggers—such as perceived value decrease, cognitive dissonance, emotional disconnect, and FOMO—businesses can implement strategies to address these psychological drivers and reduce churn. Building strong emotional connections, managing expectations, and offering personalized experiences are key to ensuring long-term customer loyalty.

[whysperingwoods]

Ethics in Witchcraft: Empowerment vs Cheap Tricks

Witchcraft is mainstream-- a reality I never would have imagined ten years ago. With that rise comes a surge of offerings on various platforms, from spellwork to tarot readings, along with it the need for deeper questions: What's real? What's empowering? What crosses ethical lines? I want to explore the ethics of witchcraft, and how we can empower ourselves without resorting to cheap tricks.

The Etsy Dilemma: Quantity Over Quality?

What inspired me to write this article was setting up my Etsy shop. A few years ago, when this blog as last active, I sold tarot and fire readings on Etsy, and I was curious to see how things had changed since then. So, I decided to do a little research and see what other people were offering.

I was surprised to see how much the popularity of not only tarot readings, but spell work has skyrocketed in the last few years. Initially, I thought "Great! People are more open to witchcraft and divination!" But a closer look at the listings-- the quality, the prices, the speed of turnaround-- my excitement faded.

Let's take a look at some of the top listings that come up when you search for "tarot reading" on Etsy:

Most of the top results use stock images, some are obviously AI generated. The turnaround times are incredibly fast, and the prices are strikingly low. It's hard to imagine the quality of a 12-month tarot reading done in under an hour for a fraction of the usual cost. Now, let's look at the highest-selling listing:

The listing has racked up around 51 thousand sales in only 1200 days. That's 41 readings per day, just for this one listing (and this shop has several). Can you imagine providing 41 readings per day? It raises important questions: How much personal energy and focus can truly go into each reading when it's churned out at such a high volume?

When I adjusted the price range to being between $25 and $100, the listings were much more realistic. Photos of real people, with reasonable turnaround times and expectations. Phew!

What if we look at spellwork? This is where things get even more complex.

We see the same trend we saw with the tarot readings: Quick fixes, AI-generated images, extremely low prices.

Any experienced practitioner knows how much time and energy can go into a spell. Everyone has their own personal style-- sometimes I favour small workings that can be done in the span of a breath, and other times I like to prepare something elaborate that will take weeks to prepare and execute. But it raises a critical question: Can real intention be poured into something that’s mass-produced and requires only the click of a button?

At the heart of witchcraft is intention. Without it, what are we really practicing?

Love Spells and the Ethics of Consent

I would be remiss if I didn't talk about love spells here. This topic easily warrants its own post, but let's touch on some key points. Love magic is one of the most popular types of spells on Etsy, and I wouldn't be surprised if it holds true on other platforms. A quick glance through old grimoires and folk traditions reveals countless examples of love magic. In a world where connection feels more elusive than ever, it makes sense that these workings are in such high demand. But where do we draw the line?

Navigating consent in magic is tricky-- where do we distinguish between influencing the world in our favour and infringing on someone else’s free will? It’s a deeply personal question, one that each practitioner must answer for themselves. It's easy to tack on an "and it harm none" at the end of a spell and hope for the best. But that sidesteps some important questions: What is harm? How far do we take that? Sometimes, giving one person favour inevitably affects someone else. For example, casting a career spell to improve your chances of a promotion may unintentionally take an opportunity from another person. Can that not also be seen as harm?

This is why it's important for practitioners to reflect on what level of harm they are comfortable with. It's not an easy question, and the answers may shift over time and with experience. Ideally, none of us want to harm others, but that's something we have little control over. Maybe a better framework to consider is reducing suffering, rather than trying to avoid harm altogether. For example, while aiming for that promotion, you could also wish for your competitor’s contributions to be recognized in other ways. Instead of trying to avoid all harm, perhaps the goal can be to soften its impact and ensure that success isn’t gained at the expense of someone else's misery.

Rather than an “and it harm none” approach that could render a spell ineffective, asking ourselves how to minimize harm while still achieving our goals can lead to more balanced, thoughtful outcome-- ones that benefit everyone involved.

When it comes to love spells, another way to navigate this ethical grey area is by focusing on influencing your own circumstances rather than someone else's free will. I see this as putting something in the person's path, and allowing them to approach it themselves. Rather than casting a spell to make someone fall in love with you, how about casting a spell to increase your confidence, making yourself more noticeable, or drawing more positive attention your way? These types of spells empower you without infringing on someone else’s autonomy or agency.

Final Thoughts

At its core, ethical witchcraft is about empowerment—honouring the free will of others, practicing with intention, and ensuring that our magic comes from a place of authenticity. As practitioners, we have the power to shape our craft in a way that’s meaningful and respectful. Let’s choose paths that uplift and empower us, and the people around us.

I'd love to hear your thoughts. How do you approach ethics in your own craft? What ethical issues have you had to navigate, and how did you handle them?

[talk-danmei-to-me]

sorry for intruding and sorry for the long rant, but regarding "toxic" danmei, i think it's also a racism/homophobia thing.

americans will gladly depict in their horror/copaganda shows and books the worst uncensored rapes and sexual violences, not non-con fantasies, just straight up torture porn, framing it as "realistic", as if realism and the reality of the victim suffering is an integral part of the enjoyment of it, and no one bats an eye. it's often praised for "touching sensitive topics", even if the depiction was not sensitive at all. no one ever said anything about game of thrones and similar. not to mention the state of american (almost always straight) booktok erotica and fantasy, stories that somehow always end with a child.

but as soon as in some fantasy from another country there's pleasure thrown in the mix, then it's suddenly not ok. as soon as the gays do something more than touch hands it's a problem.

it reeks of christian values, it's just "you can have sex as long as you don't like it and you get a child from it", it's just "you can be gay as long as you are behind closed doors". also, i know rape is not sex, but do americans know? it seems not. they really do have a twisted relationship with sex and violence, and when it's pointed out they get so angry!

i get not liking sex scenes, i myself only ever found 2 sex scenes i liked in film in my whole life, but when you can handle hetero steamy sex and all kinds of violent rapes but not a couple guys going at it maybe it's time for self reflection. also, let's remember danmei is illegal, it's a pushback against chinese censorship, it's expected that writers go balls to the walls with it! it's almost a genre convention, and tbh often the "rapey" things people complain about are written in such a comedic style that i can't really take them seriously. it's a trope. you'll survive.

there could be much to say about danmei vs state sponsored chinese media and about american media and their relationship with sex, watching chinese media i found that america and china can be so alike in conservatorism and purity culture, but i found it's a useless conversation to have on social media. it's been reduced to pro-ship vs antis, which is absolutely not the point imho.

Don’t worry, I love long rants and intrusions 💗

Y’know what it absolutely is because hating toxic yaoi for being toxic basically just implies gay characters can’t be as shitty as the rest of us. Like romance has been churning out toxic tropes for millenia. And I understand that toxic tropes are not everyone’s jam, but there’s alternative media for that, don’t come bitching to me in my own back garden about the content of my garden. It’s just manners. Although at least it gives me the heads up on who to block.

(Literally the og post inspired me to find the post about Jinx it was referencing and like… it was going off about facials.

A facial, in smut, how shockingly obscene. Like Xie Lian, I didn’t know whether to laugh or cry 🥹)

I can’t comment on American sentimentality since I’m not American. I am a millennial though so I was very much here for the it’s not porn it’s HBO era. Honestly it should make a comeback. I do think people did say things about GoT though… I can’t comment on book tok though. Tumblr is the only social media I’ve ever managed to maintain outside of Facebook in the 2010s 😂

Tbh a lot of toxic danmei hasn’t made the leap to translation yet. With regards to smut in danmei I think censorship only hit written words recently so they could technically write what they wanted beforehand because it wasn’t visual (I’m not super well versed in Chinese censorship, but from what I understand it’s across the board so you can’t have het smut either?)

The argument in general with bl is messy because it depends on which you’re talking about. Danmei has a side to the fandom that came in through The Untamed and so have no clue about genre conventions, whereas with things like manga/manhwa the debate comes down more to hating toxic yaoi. But people slating toxicity probably do read other bl manhwa if that makes sense.

Then again it’s like the whole Heartstopper argument that it’s somehow superior to other m/m romance and tbh any of those kinds of debates bore me to death.

[wordsandrobots]

Had a pretty bad day so I'm going to boast about something.

I didn't mention it at the time but posting Chapter 14 of Ragnarök in G Minor on Friday took it past the previous high bar for individual Wishing on Space Hardware fic-length set by The Ares Affair (72,872 words vs 69,850). And this latest story isn't even halfway done. That'll come next week, and take the total word count for the series over 550,000 words.

(I'm hoping to land at about 555,000 because who wouldn't?)

Which is nice, and a good reminder of why, exactly, it took me half a year longer than expected to get Ragnarök finished. Because that did kind of disappoint me, but looking at it like this, it makes sense. There was a *lot* to get through to tie the overarching story together and give everybody some sort of key moment. My problem with writing fic for Iron-Blooded Orphans is that I want to write about ALL of it, and every single character, so it was probably inevitable that it wouldn't conclude with anything less then a doorstop of a fic.

Chapter 14 also marked the end of the character arc I started with the first IBO fic I wrote and I want to write a brief commentary on that. I'm planning a proper 'author's note' essay when the whole series is done, but this . . . this is something more specific.

(Behind a cut because it is talking about endgame stuff for Wishing on Space Hardware, which is already a post-canon fic for Iron-Blooded Orphans, so, yeah. Take heed and beware ye spoilers.)

I can't remember when exactly I decided one of the climaxes was going to be a three-way fight between fun-house mirror versions of the Devil of Tekkadan. Like much of WoSH, it fell out of the ever-expanding churn of ideas IBO left me with. But it's an obvious thing to do: take the legacy of the anime's protagonists and fracture it against itself for the sake of drama. Because whatever else, we are talking about a group of deeply traumatised child soldiers and there remains the potential for a lot of bad things to follow the hopeful ending of the show.

Embi is all the worst parts of Tekkadan. Violent, arrogant, selfish, reckless -- he's the vessel into whom I poured all that and more, to the point of having him actively reject the better parts. Heart-sickened by the death of his brother, the bonds of comradeship fray until he can't stand the sight of his former squad-mates, much less the miraculous returnee from the dead who catalyses the events of WoSH. At the same time, he can't stay at his worst. He struggles with new connections because they threaten to pull him from his grief. He doesn't want to move on. Embi roots himself in an old dream of being like Mikazuki, in the life of a mercenary soldier. Fighting is all he knows and beyond it lies the terrifying prospect of hope and trying. He'd have much preferred to burn up over Mars. At least that would have been a safely familiar ending.

Ordsley suffers the myth of Tekkadan, transformed by people who saw what a group of Martian children 'achieved' and wanted to surpass them. Yet the curse inflicted on him -- for he is of course a werewolf, turning with the influence of the crescent moon -- is to become unwilling legatee of Mikazuki's reality: the beast and the boy, the contradictory dreams of someone trapped by a system that sees people as raw material. For the smart young man at home on the proper side of history, it's a hell of a shock to reckon with the humanity of those condemned for their rebellion. Here, finally joining the survivors on the battlefield they once called home, the pieces click, for at least a moment. There are no easy answers in a world that offers children a choice between killing and starvation, but perhaps in the middle of the fray, it is easier to understand why they call each other friend.

Then there's Shino. The lovely, blood-thirsty himbo I thought it would be interesting to pluck from his canonical fate.

I know when I decided to shatter his prosthetic. The middle of last year, after reading writing by amputees, talking about how they are depicted, how that feeds and feeds off narratives fundamentally disconnected from their lived experiences. Still, I don't want you to get the wrong idea. I'm not trying to speak to those experiences. The canon has sci-fi prosthetics. It's detached from the real world. It's just, the ways it also problematises them . . . the way, particularly with the addition of 598 and his cybernetic eye, that dovetails with the propaganda drive from militaries to gift high-tech limb replacements to those mangled in the course of fighting . . . I don't regret pushing myself to dip my toe in those waters.

You see, I wanted to tie together the strands of Shino's trauma. His instinctive reach for quid pro quo in his relationship with Yamagi, finally answered with the truth of everything positive he left behind on his first 'death'. His great bête noire, that failure of his last-ditch effort to save Tekkadan, coming full-circle as he's given another chance, another challenge, met this time with greater experience and maturity, and the knowledge of when not to fight. Third-best no longer, bolstered by all those who taught him what it takes to fly.

And as he gets to prove his mastery -- in ways beyond Embi's suicidal commitment and Ordsley's engineered supremacy -- he also reckons once more with that pernicious belief he is only fit to fight.

There isn't an answer, you know. Those doubts about ourselves, those demons, don't go away even when we let them go. We just learn to carry on regardless. To accept the possibility that we can live anyway, and to stop throwing the best parts of ourselves under the bus in our rush to distance ourselves from the worst.

So the arm is smashed to bits, the fate of the mobile suit pilot, the soldier, the body spent in violence. But Shino finally sees his younger self in a positive light and does what nobody else was able to for Embi: tell him it's OK to leave. Whatever it takes to be happy, even if that's a million miles away. He treats Ordsley as Ordsley, not Mika 2.0, reinforcing Ordsley's newfound balance. Above all, throughout everything, he is not alone. This final fight is spent with Eugene right at Shino's side, backing him up, trusting him. The Ryusei-Go is Tekkadan as a community, the part that truly never wilted. Because the reason Shino can have this moment of catharsis is that he is loved. So many people, building him up, giving him a future.

Everything he would do for them, unhesitatingly, and has, more times than he will ever realise.

I don't know if it's character development, exactly. Honestly, I don't know if the chapter actually encapsulates these things the way I wanted it to. I've read it too many times to see it straight any more and, even with a lovely band of readers I am privileged to have commenting, I'm doubting myself a lot these days. I don't sit well on my laurels, with the things I've completed, the word counts and the tick-marks. I worry it's still not enough. Put a fair of myself in Shino, there.

But I think it's good. I think it came out the way I wanted it to. I think it's the right thing for the story, to take a giant mecha battle, the tragic, inevitable conflict, and flip it around into an act of firefighting. I think I should be proud I got here, even if I never expected to when I first sat down at my keyboard to explain why the hot bisexual anime boy was still alive, actually.

So I'm make a note, to myself, that I did. That I should be proud. That I am, of me, for doing that.

And if you're reading this and you're going to be reading the rest of the story -- I'll just say, Shino himself is going to tell you why his vivid pink robot arm needed to be demolished by a giant sword. There'll be another, eventually (they do have a cyberneticist on speed-dial), but for now, well. You'll see.

[puthyflapps]

That unrequited au’s got me in a gotdang chokehold. Not the sweatshirt! 😭 The description of Regan vs. Shelbyyy help. Wake up Toni baby wake uppp!

If I have to be in my emotional devastation era then so does everyone else x

Toni has no choice but to wake up when this whole situation finally comes to a head during a drunken confrontation at one of Fatin's notorious house parties. Shelby had spent another evening going out of her way to avoid Toni and, subsequently, Regan. Her evasive behavior, combined with Toni’s penchant for picking fights, had culminated in this late-night showdown of sorts.

The two find themselves sharing hard stares and even harsher words. Questions seem to morph into accusations that are a clear result of the last name Shelby bears and the god-fearing reputation that comes with it. Truthfully, it was naive of Shelby to think she could continue to get away with dodging the other girl like this, and it was wholly and entirely ignorant to believe she could survive the ensuing interrogation. Especially knowing how Toni’s always prided herself on her ability to easily get under her skin. Steady cracks begin to appear in her veneer as Toni throws shot after shot her way. Launching question after question at her. Creating a dangerous minefield that Shelby’s not entirely sure she can continue to navigate much longer.

With each passing moment, Shelby can feel the heavy weight of her pageant queen mask slipping further and further down, revealing the raw and vulnerable truth underneath. Slowly, the carefully crafted facade of perfection cracks and crumbles, giving way to the messy and embarrassing reality she's been so desperately trying to hide. 

"Why is it so fucking hard for you to be happy for us?"

Toni lobs the question her way in a fit of frustration, and God, the question stings. It feels as though the words themselves have reached out and slapped her with all their might. Every syllable of every word burns at a brutal temperature. Invisible blisters are already steadily forming across the expanse of her cheek. Bubbling painfully. Flesh sizzling silently.

The question hurts. The insinuation hurts. The idea that Toni believes Shelby cares so little for her happiness fucking hurts. However, it’s still not enough to make her admit the truth and she can tell her silence is only upsetting Toni more. Her jaw is clenched and her chest is rising and falling rapidly with heavy breaths. It’s unsurprising when she yells out at Shelby once more:

“Say something!”

Her voice is desperate, trembling with fear and heartache. Shelby can hear the pleading in Toni's tone, her words spilling out with an urgency that cuts deep into Shelby's soul. She can feel the weight of Toni's expectations pressing down on her, begging for an explanation, for any shred of hope that this isn't what she thinks it is. The tension between them is palpable as Shelby struggles to hold back a flood of emotions threatening to overwhelm her. But with each passing moment, it becomes harder to contain the torrent of feelings churning within her.

“Because I love you!”

The declaration fills up the space around them, leaving no room to move. There is nowhere to run; nowhere to escape from the rubble of this crumbling friendship. It’s finally out there. These words, this thing that she's been so petrified to speak of is now out there for Toni to see, to dissect and pick apart. Shelby's soul lay bare in the confines of a bedroom that belonged to neither of them.

With a harsh swipe, Shelby banishes the hot tears carving tracks down her youthful face. She swivels abruptly from Toni, the air cooling where their bodies were once in proximity. Exhaustion-wrought legs buckle under her as she slumps onto the bed; an unruly cocktail of alcohol and fatigue renders her form heavy and unyielding. As she releases a shaky sigh permeating with undertones of regret - it sounds like waves reluctantly crashing onto a deserted beach. Gathering herself, she starts to explain:

"I spent years praying that one day you would wake up and just see me. You would see that I'm here, I've always been here, and you would finally love me back."

"Bee..." Toni's voice cracks. Raw with emotion and tinged with confusion.

Shelby pays no mind to the interruption, however. Instead, she presses on, ignoring how intensely pity-filled brown eyes watch her.

"I know how stupid and pathetic that sounds, but I really thought," her voice trails off momentarily as she tries to swallow the lump in her throat. "There were these moments where I swear it seemed like…like maybe you did love me. Then you met Regan, and I saw the way you looked at her, Toni. I saw it-"

"Shelby, please," Toni begs.

She pleads, for what? Shelby isn't sure. Does the thought of Shelby being in love with her make her skin crawl? Is Toni so disgusted that she can't bear to hear any more about Shelby's sick feelings? Perhaps she wants Shelby to stop, to save herself the embarrassment. Maybe she's simply trying to help Shelby retain what little is left of her dignity.

But Goodkinds aren’t known for being quitters.

So, if she's going to ruin the one good thing in her life and make a complete fool of herself, she may as well go for broke.

"It became painfully obvious that you would never love me the way that I love you. So, I'm sorry if I upset you. I'm sorry that I've been distant and closed off lately, but I am trying my best to learn how to not love you."

Toni's heart feels like it's being mercilessly wrenched from her chest, each beat causing a physical ache that seems to radiate through every limb. She knows she should say something, anything, to make things right, but her mind is foggy, and her tongue feels heavy with the weight of unspoken words. She can feel her knees growing weak with each passing moment. A tightness grips her throat, almost suffocating as a lump forms, making it difficult for her to even breathe. Despite the tears brimming in her eyes, she keeps them locked away; too ashamed to let them fall in front of her best friend.

Trudging forward, each step feeling more burdensome than the last, Toni makes her way over to the bed. Her eyes are transfixed on Shelby's form, as though she's just now seeing her for the first time. The air in the room is charged and tense, thick with unspoken emotions. "Bee," Toni says gently, barely above a whisper, only making Shelby want to hide away from her even more. She buries her head in her hands, unable to handle the softness in the brunette's tone. It feels too delicate, too careful, as if Toni is handling a fragile piece of glass that may shatter at any moment. Shelby's breaths come out in short ragged bursts, her head feeling light and dizzy as if the room is spinning around her. She feels exposed in all the wrong ways. Suddenly, there is a dip on the bed beside her and strong arms snake around her form. In this moment of vulnerability, Shelby can't help but lash out in the most pathetic way she can muster up - pushing weakly against Toni's chest like a petulant child. But Toni persists, ignoring Shelby's halfhearted protest and simply tightening her hold until they meld into one another. Shelby can feel puffs of warm breath tickling her ear as Toni whispers over and over again, "I didn't know." 

For what felt like hours, Toni and Shelby remained tangled together like the branches of an old tree. The soft pads of Toni's fingers traced soothing patterns over the expanse of Shelby's back as sobs wracked her body. Two girls, once inseparable, now finding solace in each other's arms amidst the ruins of their friendship. The aftermath of drunken confessions hung heavy in the air between them. As sleep slowly overtook her, Shelby couldn't help but wonder how they had ended up here - lost in each other yet worlds apart. When she wakes the following morning, she knows she can't linger a moment longer. She can't bear to face the harsh light of day and another inevitable rejection from Toni. With a heavy heart, she carefully untangles herself from the sleeping girl and mourns the thought that this will be the first and last time she ever shares a bed with Toni Shalifoe. 

[aikos-filibuster]

Big Data VS The Little Guys

or "Will decentralised networks become a bigger, more mainstream part of the Internet, thus emphasising crowdsourced content and information?"

Earlier this year, I became an admin for a Discord server, so I was expected to engage with its members. One person in the server stood out, he explained to me that he runs an online marketing firm in Chicago, then he said he wanted to show me something. He told me to search up a Wikipedia article, telling me to look at the image file at the top on the article. I looked at the user who uploaded that image file and I was surprised to find that it was he that created and uploaded that image onto Wikipedia, and it made sense because of his online marketing background. No one asked him to devote his time and effort to do that, but maybe out of a sense of innate duty or maybe he had time to spare, he decided to create that image which is now associated entirely with that topic. The Internet is a what it says on the tin, an interconnected network. Who could have guessed? The Internet consists of a functionally infinite number of points weaved together with hyperlinks and cross-references, forged from the combined effort of countless users who add on to the vast body of work that is the online experience. But who is responsible for it being like the way it is? It might seem contradictory to the title of this blog entry, but I want to suggest that the Internet in its modern recognisable form is the way it is today because of the success of decentralised networks in the past and present, which had always depended on crowdsourced content and information.

A Decentralised Interconnected Network?

In the advent of what really became the Internet occurred between the late 90s and early 2000s where we can observe the phenomenon of textboards where people would have discussions with other users, and blogs where users would write about any subject under the digital sun. This early unregulated “laissez-faire” approach to the growth of the Internet meant that individual communities and their users would be the ones churning out content with no fear of a central regulatory authority like we see today that could impose rules that today seem part and parcel of the Internet but would retrospectively seem almost draconian in nature. This was especially true after the Dot-Com Bubble burst in the early 2000s when created a massive evolutionary bottle neck in terms of the countless tech companies going bankrupt, where 52% of all internet-centred firms when bust when the stock market crashed. Imagine if today, half of the entire Internet just disappeared. The Dot-Com crash put many people off investing in anything related to the internet for many years and would only pick back up in the later 2000s with the rise of firms like Alphabet Incorporated, Amazon Incorporated, and Facebook Incorporated, now of course Meta Platforms Incorporated. In those dark years after the stock market crashed, it was up to the users online to fill in the vacuum that was left with a sort of Mad Max style approach where it was up for grabs due to the lack of any attempt to monopolise or centralise the web by corporations or governments. In the new algorithmic medium that is the Internet, collective intelligence and combined creative energy emerges bottom-up from the multitude of actual human knowledge, in this case, the Internet is built in a way that naturally facilitates decentralised networks growing and being an integral part of the Internet.

To conclude, the question of whether decentralised networks could a bigger force  and become a more mainstream part of the Internet is really a sort of nonquestion as decentralised networks is practically the backbone of the Internet. Going back to the story I told in the beginning, he was just someone with an idea and the means to put his thoughts into a reality. The Internet is a summation of the concept of the wisdom of the crowds, and the idea of crowdsourced content and information created by the users themselves is inherent to the spirit of the Internet. This interestingly enough makes the decentralised networks on the Internet ideally the closest things we can get to perfect democracies where it is the users who are in charge of the content they produce, who is allowed into their circles, and how they wish to present themselves to the greater ecosystem.

References

[thequeercoalition]

We're on the right track with questions like these, and it's important to recognize that meaningful change may require both government action and collective effort.

Before we explore solutions, I want to focus on how the public is being misled—fed misinformation that encourages the acceptance of harsh and unnecessary methods of destruction.

The term "invasive species" is itself misleading. Moving forward, we will refer to them as "displaced species" to more accurately reflect their reality. These animals did not "invade"—they were placed there, directly or indirectly, by human actions. The only species that has ever truly invaded is humans. Much of what we see is overhyped media sensation, used to churn money in. All of my examples will be of Floridian origin as that's what I'm most familiar with.

Our first example is the Burmese Python, they're rather famously known for "invading" the ever glades. Aside from their mere existence I have never heard of what they're supposedly threatening. Perhaps alligators were endangered so maybe the threat was supposed to be to the alligators? At this time Alligators are of least concern on the endangered list. Also "wildlife removal" usually includes the killing of alligators - far more than python vs alligator so it seems strange to kill in the name of protection with one hand and then killing the "protected" animal with the other. It goes deeper. Several years ago kicked off the first "Burmese Python Hunt". There was much selling about the pythons overrunning the everglades and aren't they so scary? It certainly made a good headline. A journalist covering the event noted that the number of kills were elevated as the dead bodies of the snakes were counted more than once - so the premise that the everglades was "overrun" would be reinforced and maybe they make some more money with the headlines and the next hunt. Another famous example is the Gambian Pouched Rat - oh I really love rats so this is great. "GIANT RAT" is a really flashy headline, and pulls from a lot of feelings and fear the propaganda machine had already worked on with the common rat. Gambian Rats were dumped by exotic breeders when African rodents (and prairie dogs) were banned in the United States. Florida being an excellent host, it seems some of the giant rats survived. Again there isn't much about what ecological disaster that was to be feared from with the Gambian Rat - at best there might have been something about the Gambian Rats outcompeting for vegetation. With zero information about how much of an impact these rats would actually have, the fwc launched an attack, leaving out poisoned baits. They killed 4 times the wildlife than they did Gambian Rats. But do you know who DOES have information about the potential ecological impact a Gambian Pouched Rat might have? Me! Well, info gleaned from people who keep them in captivity. Gambian Pouched Rats are not prolific breeders, they typically have up to three pups, breed in the summer, have to have certain humidity perimeters and IF more than one female is born to the litter, only one goes on to be a breeder. As you might expect from this info this isn't conducive to an out compete situation. In fact with this information it should be no surprise to you that: There has been No Sightings of a Gambian Pouched Rat in at Least a Decade. And personally, I've tried. I've asked around, I've looked, I've offered money for any clues - nothing. But this doesn't stop the headlines running this gag from time to time. My last example will be the Quaker Parrot. Quaker Parrot's offense is them being loud- ok. It seems to me that would be a "learn to live with wildlife" situation but I guess killing whoever inconveniences you is a thing. I can say with Quakers is that the government at least makes it hard and annoying to kill them, to do so legally you have to catch them and bring them to the vet to euthanize. My biggest issue is; Many years ago Florida had it's own parrot. And humans killed them, color me shocked. This indicates to me that Florida has a niche open for a parrot species and that instead of interfering with an eco-system the quakers are completing it.

So with that I hope I've demonstrated the misinformation, the money driven, the in competencies, the counter productive harm, and all in all general mishandling of displaced species.

Some methods to put in place when dealing with and preventing displaced species.

Offering amnesty days where people can relinquish exotic animals they no longer want to care for. The animals are then adopted out to willing participants. FWC already does this with Amnesty Days. Sterilization of displaced species. This is sort of in place for Muscovy ducks (I find it arguable if they are displaced but anyway) where destruction of their nests are encouraged. So duck abortions I guess. Relocation to proper habitats. The common argument against this is disease transmission, but standard wildlife rehabilitation practices include vaccination and parasite treatment. This should not be a barrier. There is no reason why an animal examined for health and vaccinated can't be relocated other than the biggest hurdle which is establishing themself. Take the animals into captivity - a method used by my wildlife hospital so they could avoid killing non-natives. They also find volunteers with a good amount of land to relocate the displaced species.

What if we had a dedicated department to capture, accept surrenders, sterilize, vaccinate, and rehome displaced species?

It’s not unrealistic—we already have a model for it: Animal Control.

While Animal Control itself could use significant reform (especially regarding anti-speciesist practices), the basic framework already exists. We don’t need to reinvent the wheel—just improve and expand the systems we have.

My final bit of advice is to continue to collect information. Speak to humane wildlife services. Check out Humane Wildlife Consulting of South Florida as one example.

When Colonists label animals “invasive species “ and therefore do not deserve empathy or humane treatment, only destruction

[zabrak-show]

In the Absence of Light

Chapter 3: I Keep on Fallin’

Disaster Trio vs Zabrak Bros Ghost Hunter AU

Summary: Maul and Obi-Wan navigate their surroundings and their past. Darkness and small spaces spark chemistry. Ahsoka and Feral witness something truly terrifying.

Warnings/tags: bickering as usual, sensory deprivation, small spaces/claustrophobia, feeling of falling, there may or may not be a smooch and a pants tent or two (I know I know how very dare)

Words: 2.8k

Ch 1, Ch 2, art

AO3

A/N: sorry a bit late with posting this one even tho technically it’s still Thursday!! Ahh I can’t believe there’s only one more chapter to post after this! I hope you all enjoy and please do let me know your thoughts <3 xoxo

A wretched creaking noise echoed through the cavernous chamber. Maul muttered incoherent blather as he rifled through things looking for some sort of crowbar. As comforting as it was to be still able to hear Maul, the echoes opened the basement into a larger than comprehensible room to Obi-Wan's imagination. He felt his stomach churn with acid, and his chest tightened with anxiety. The blanket of darkness swallowed and penetrated him wholly.

A loud clatter of metal hitting the concrete gave him a startled jump.

"Found something!" Maul boasted.

Kenobi could hear the fast thwack of his shoes hitting the concrete running over to him.

"It's an actual crowbar! So I'm going to pry it into the edge of the door, and we can both pull it to open it up." Maul explained as he put the crowbar in place. Obi-Wan held his hands out, waiting for guidance. A most desperate hour to surrender control to this wild Zabrak.

Maul wrapped his arms around Kenobi's and guided him to the crowbar he'd wedged into the door, sliding his hands to where he needed to hold the bar. Their bodies had never been this close before. Obi-Wan's heart raced, and his pants became too tight. Maul’s hands were so warm and his skin was thick, but softer than he’d expected. Oh, gods, why was this happening?! He had no idea if his arousal was obvious or not. The flushing on his cheeks must be. Could Maul see colors in the dark, or was it like those night vision cameras?

Maul near whispered, "Hold it here and pull to your right when I say so," his hot, humid breath warmed the shell of his ear. Obi-Wan's palms dampened, and he worried about being able to hold the crowbar with any efficiency. No matter, he'd have to make do. There were more important things to focus on right now other than his apparent attraction to Maul in the dark.

"Ready? PULL!" Maul yelled, and both men pulled the door open in a few slow hard thrusts. The high pitch screeching of the metal was enough to wake the dead.

"What do you see? Is it an elevator?" Obi-Wan asked through gasps of catching his breath.

"I think...so…." Maul's voice trailed off, and sweat ran down Kenobi's back and stung his eyes as it slid down his brow.

"What's going on?" Kenobi shivered from the dampness of his sweat now covering much of his body.

What happened next, Kenobi couldn't be sure. He questioned his reality, thinking he must still be dreaming or dreaming again. Had he passed out when he fell? He did hit his head pretty hard. It was as though some tremendous and powerful being had pushed him into the small—what he was assuming—elevator. It couldn't have been Maul, who laid crumpled on the floor under him in this tiny cramped room. Obi-Wan howled as he tried to stand up, and immediately his knees buckled under him, and he fell back on top of Maul. Both of them groaned with hitched breaths.

"Careful," Maul croaked out, trying to push Kenobi away.

"What happened? Are we in an elevator? Did someone push us?" Kenobi felt around in a panic as he spoke, grazing more of Maul's body than he'd ever anticipated doing. He had to be sure not to put his knees or feet anywhere painful when he got up, of course.

"Huh?" Maul asked, his voice breathy and laced with confusion. "I... I'm not sure what happened. The last thing I remember is finding the crowbar and helping you put your arms around it… and…"

Kenobi's face grew red hot again, thinking about that moment with Maul and wondering if he saw or remembered everything.

"It felt like someone pushed me," Kenobi said, hoping to interrupt any memory of himself from Maul's mind.

"I don't remember that," Maul pondered as he grabbed Kenobi's arms and helped him to his feet. "And I do not see any buttons in here to get us out or up or down or anything."

"Great," Obi-Wan sighed, "and I don't suppose we still have that crowbar to pry the doors open again?"

"...no," Maul's voice was small. Obi-Wan had never heard him sound so meek before.

"Are you scared, Maul?" Obi-Wan couldn't help the smirk crinkling up along his face.

"Of course not! I'm irritated that I'm trapped in here and with you, of all people." His menacing tone oozed with wistful sadness.

"Likewise." Obi-Wan sighed. "Let's sit and think for a moment. My head is killing me." He rubbed his head where he'd hit it on the floor earlier, wincing in pain.

They both arranged themselves at opposite corners of the small boxed room. With still no light source for Kenobi, the transition to finding a spot away from the Zabrak was awkward at best. There was much unfortunate accidental groping on his part. In the end, there was no way around their feet having to intermingle, but that was better than other parts of their body, he supposed. The metal was cold against Obi-Wan's back and butt, where it made contact through his linen pants and shirt. He shivered, annoyed that he hadn't put on his jacket. He hadn't even meant to leave the bedroom.

He heard and felt Maul shuffling around in the opposite corner, wondering what on earth he could be doing. A bundle of warm fabric hit his face. After the initial shock, he grabbed the soft bundle and appreciated its warmth.

"My sweater. I run hotter than you, so I don't need it."

"Well, I don't need it either." Obi-Wan lied, not wanting to give it up but not wanting Maul to get satisfaction from him being cold.

"Just put it on and shut up while I think of what we can do." he snarled.

Obi-Wan acquiesced. He was awful cold, and the sweater felt like a warm cozy fall day. And the smell, gods, it smelled good. Remembering that Maul could see everything he did, he tried not to make it obvious he enjoyed the scent of his nemesis. Maul let out a small hrmph noise. A slight panic washed over Obi-Wan for enjoying the sweater a little too much. Maul broke the thick silence with a loud yawn.

"I know you're tired, but I would suggest not sleeping," Obi-Wan drawled.

"Why would you think I'm going to sleep in here? With you? Trapped in this elevator? I can't possibly think of a worse idea." Maul scoffed.

"Right, well earlier, I was in the bathroom, and I didn't even mean to fall asleep, it just… happened, and then I had this horrible vision-"

"Oh, for satan's sake, you had a nightmare, and you're trying to give me advice? Listen, I'm not going to fall asleep and have a scary dream and wake up crying like you, ok?" Maul cut him off, snapping his words with unwarranted aggression.

"Oh, and so you meant to fall into this dungeon or whatever this is? And trap me in the elevator with you? Neither of us is in complete control of this situation. I'm trying to work with you." Obi-Wan offered, trying to remain collected.

"Work with me?! Do you mean to abandon me here while you get famous for faking everything and leave me to be the crazy one no one takes seriously? I really can't-" Maul rose to his knees to get closer to Kenobi, his hot breath warming his face with the fiery words.

"OH, I'm the faker? Please! That is so rich coming from you. If no one takes you seriously, that is your fault and nothing to do with-"

Both men were now yelling over one another, trying to make their points heard, but it was useless. Neither was listening and certainly not to the elevator making creaking noises as they argued.

"You faked that entire setup! And that's why you left me because I threatened to reveal it all. I can't believe you are forgetting. You block things out of your mind if it doesn't suit you. Talk about the mental gymnastics on this one. Poor Kenobi can never do ANY wrong-" Maul mocked him, and Kenobi could feel the air moving from where he gesticulated.

"It was not a setup! that was the whole point, Maul! You won't see anything from anyone else's point of view. You are the absolute WORST!" Kenobi saw red as he bellowed out the last word to Maul.

There was a brief silence between the two men, and they could no longer ignore the elevator's creaking. It made a loud hiss and pop before hurtling down into a freefall. Kenobi felt his stomach rise to his chest and wondered if he'd be able to keep his lunch down. Light from the elevator corner flickered on and off, giving Kenobi a flashing view of the angry Zabrak directly in front of him. He glared back, thinking how he hated him, the spiteful demon hunter. Even now, in this moment of panic as they plummeted down in a haze of flashing dull yellow lights to depths unknown. How could they still be going down? Kenobi didn't want to know. He hoped it was all a mirage of feelings, and they would come out into their separate bedrooms and never speak of this again. He folded his arms tight against his chest. Feeling the warmth of the sweatshirt and still smelled his rich, warm scent. How awful this all was.

Maul rose from his crouched position, reaching a hand out to Obi-Wan. Obi-Wan stared at his outstretched hand like it was a foreign object he'd never seen before. He'd never studied the tattoos on him up to now. They were exquisite, the ink-black against the deep crimson red of his complexion. Obi-Wan grasped onto Maul's hand and let him help lift him to a standing position.

The elevator rocked in violent thrusts as it shuddered down and down further and further. The lights flickered, illuminating the men and the dull, brassy metal of the walls. It moaned as though it might rip apart at any moment. With one major shake of the box, like someone hurled a boulder sideways at them, the gravity shifted. Obi-Wan found himself pinned against the wall of the elevator with Maul in his arms. He held the Zabrak up but not away. He wasn't thinking with a clear head. There was no way he was enjoying the feeling of Maul against him. Obi-Wan's arms wrapped him in a hug in an inexplicable instinct.

"What do you think you're doing?" Maul growled over the cacophony of the crashing elevator.

"I… I'm not sure," Obi-Wan stammered, still clutching to Maul as though if he gripped onto him strong enough, the fall from wherever they were wouldn't be so bad. Holding him like this was ridiculous, yet he remained glued to him. He couldn't let go of him if he wanted to. And boy did he want to. He didn't want to admit how good it felt. How it felt like a missing piece of his heart was at long last reunited with the whole. And how good he felt and smelled, and how the glow of his eyes when the lights flickered off was the most beautiful sight.

"You know, I never meant to leave you there," Obi-Wan said, his voice small, "I searched for you for days. I felt awful about what happened. I still do."

Maul growled and wrapped his hand around Obi-Wan's neck, not squeezing but holding him within his power. Maul scowled at him and looked at Kenobi's lips. Obi-Wan closed his eyes, a bit embarrassed at the way he was looking at Maul and at the arousal growing the longer he stared.

He felt Maul's breath against his skin, so near his lips, he was breathing him in. The roar of the small room hurtling to the center of the earth—it must be by now he'd determined—hid the whimper he let out as Maul pushed himself against Obi-Wan's groin. The hardness against his thigh suggested he wasn't the only one aroused in this tiny box.

Maul's lips brushed into his, and Obi-Wan opened his eyes, at last, to make sure he wasn't asleep again. He saw red again and black, and Maul's eyelashes dusting the tops of his crimson cheek. Obi-Wan kissed back in an instant. His investigated tongue slid across Maul's lips and into his mouth. He tasted like minty licorice. Obi-Wan couldn't get enough. They devoured each other as the world around them shuttled them off to the depths of hell.

Obi-Wan's hands massaged Maul's back as they pressed into each other. They very well may die, might as well enjoy the last few moments. He wondered if that's what prompted this from Maul.

The elevator, at last, came to a shuddering stop, which should have surprised the occupants. They were too busy tasting each other's mouths to notice, it seemed. Or to see all the lights come on and the elevator door ding open. Their bodies pressed too close together, feeling every heartbeat and shuddering breath from the other. It wasn't until Obi-Wan heard a familiar voice that he turned his head to the open door and saw a jaw-dropped Ahsoka and Feral staring at them both.

In an instant, both men pushed one another away and stumbled out of the elevator. The tent in Obi-Wan's pants was far from discrete at this point. Cripes, why did he have to wear such tight and thin pants today?

"What was… what WAS that?" Feral asked, his eyes as big as saucers.

"I'm certain I don't know what you're talking about," Obi-Wan said, staring down at his nails, wondering how he could rearrange himself to make his erection less noticeable. It was too late, though.

"Oh my, Oh my god, I wish I had not seen that," Ahsoka averted her eyes and looked down and away at the floor.

Feral's initial shock disappeared from his face as he seemed to enjoy this awkwardness a little too much.

"Oh shit, my big brother is in love with his nemesis. This is too good. I hope we got that all on camera." he slapped his knee in laughter while Ahsoka pretended to dry heave in the corner of the room.

"Ok enough, enough!" Obi-Wan yelled.

"I'm sorry, are we supposed to listen to you with that giant pants tent?" Feral hooted, laughing with his entire body. Obi-Wan turned away to adjust himself.

Maul elbowed his brother in the side to shut him up.

"Yes, that's quite enough, little brother," Maul drawled out, trying to sound distinguished. Feral gulped down the last of his laughter with a smirk still plastered on his face.

Now that most of the laughter had subsided, Obi-Wan could see where they were. It was a drab room with flickering candle lights sparsed throughout. It looked like any other room in the house. This whole thing must have been some hallucination that they had been falling for as long as they had. A most curious phenomenon. Unlike the other rooms of the house, this one had no furniture or wall hangings, save for the candle lights. There was, however, a peeling forest green wallpaper with burgundy trim. The floor was old hardwood, some rotting away in places. The ceiling held decorative plaster that once in its heyday held great beauty, but now it crumbled and gathered cobwebs. It appeared as though there was massive water damage as well.

"This house must have been used as some sort of demonic portal. We need only to-"

Obi-Wan cut Maul off, "Demonic? They are trying to use water as a vessel. This is obviously the work of ghosts. The water damage alone suggests the presence of spirits."

"Even if there were ghosts here, which there are not, the water damage is a demonic sign and always has been. Your refusal to study up on demons is showing, Kenobi." Maul crossed his arms and sneered at Obi-Wan.

"I know enough about demons to know you're wrong as usual."

"Aren't you two more concerned with where we are right now?" Ahsoka chimed in, placing herself between the bickering men.

"Well, back in the main part of the house, of course," Obi-Wan said and then glanced around the room again. Wait a second. There were no doors or windows in here. Only the elevator, which had slammed shut upon their embarrassing entrance. "I, wait, how did you two get in here?"

"Same as you, the elevator, only we can't pry it back open-" Feral started to explain.

"What? Well, then why didn't you say something when we…." Maul interrupted and then trailed off, remembering what happened in the elevator. "Well, I suppose it doesn't matter anyway. We have no control of the elevator, and there's not enough space for all four of us in there anyway."

"Right, so can we break through one of the walls? The floor?" Obi-Wan pondered out loud, looking around at the room again, stroking his beard.

"We could try. There aren't any tools in here or anything, though." Feral said as they all looked in different directions of the bare closed in room.

—————————

Tag list: @always-on-tatooine @dinsbeskar @maulpunk @hornystarwarsbisexual @dawdreygore @l1feisapigsty @maulieber @botherbother-blog @emissarydecksetter @wolfpack-arts-industries99 @mock-ing-bird

[fromthedeskofelizabeththird]

Habanero

You're a good girl, well behaved.

Absolutely not the type to rail random guys in nightclubs.

Until you are.

Fandom: BNHA

Pairing: Erasermic, Aizawa x Reader, Present Mic x Reader and eventual polyamorous Erasermic x Reader

Rating: Explicit, MINORS BE GONE

Trigger Warnings: This chapter is angsty as fuck and there’s quite a lot of references to death. Aizawa wishes he was dead etc

AO3: Here | Want to support me? I have a Kofi

Chapter: 14/16 (all chapters)

15-ISH YEARS AGO

KREEK

KREEK

Shouta stretched his hand upwards and grabbed onto the fabric, using his legs and fist to get a firm hold before climbing higher. His hands were bandaged and worn, the capture device stained with blood, but he pushed himself harder and faster, grimacing at the friction against his broken skin.

It ended as it always did. He stretched too high and the hand he had used to secure his weight buckled under the strain. He lost his grip and plummeted to the safety mats piled across the floor, the capture device slipping from his hands.

Hizashi winced at the sound of his body hitting the mats. He knew they were designed to break falls, but had used them often enough himself to know how much they still hurt.

Shouta repositioned himself at his original starting position and reached for the fabric, the same determined expression across his face that he always wore, no matter how many times he landed on his face.

KREEK

KREEK

Hizashi watched as he took hold of the fabric and tightened his grip before reaching higher, slower this time, a telltale sign that he had cut his hand again. He sipped his soda, taking in the sweat that layered Shouta’s forehead, the blood on his lips from where he had bitten too hard.

The first few months after Shirakumo’s death had passed slowly: a haze of visits to the guidance counsellor that eventually faded into one. He remembered very few individual details of that time and they assured him it was normal, even if it felt anything but.

He remembered the whisper of rainfall; remembered the way it had soaked his hair. He remembered his mother grabbing his face in her hands and begging him to say something...anything and slowly realising not only was she crying, but he didn’t remember coming home.

After several months of counselling, both after school and during free periods, he had adjusted to a life without Shirakumo in it. A year had passed now and it still hurt, but he no longer had a knee jerk response to his empty desk or the mention of his name. No one handled him gently anymore. They didn’t choose their words carefully as if afraid he might explode.

Shouta was different.

He didn’t go to any of the guidance counsellor’s appointments. He slept through class, he stopped studying. He had the same glassy look in his eyes Hizashi had when he returned home, only the light never really returned. He continued to come to school though committed to none of it, as if it wasn’t real and he wasn’t there, simply passing through a dream.

He had never been a chatty sort of person, but Hizashi felt his silence now more than ever. Any time he brought up Shirakumo it was like he’d poked a bruise, which in many senses he supposed he had.

He didn’t remember when exactly Shouta had started booking out the gym, only that he had been following him there for the past three months. He positioned himself in the doorway, back straight against the frame, finishing up his homework and pretending he wasn’t there.

Shouta didn’t speak about Shirakumo. He didn’t speak about that day. Instead he bled through bandages and skipped meals.

He made it only a quarter of the way up the rope this time, slipping on a part of the fabric that was still slick with blood before toppling back to the mats. He didn’t get up, instead sprawling across the mats as exhaustion finally caught up with him. His chest heaved, his eyes blurred with tears.

“Shit,” he murmured at first, though his voice grew louder as he got to his feet. “ Shit !!”

Hizashi got to his feet when Shouta did, taking a moment to perfect a convincingly wide smile before stepping forwards.

“Say, Sho,” he said, as Shouta wobbled on his feet. “I brought you something!”

Shouta turned to him, gaze drifting from his smile to the bottle of water in his hand.

“Look, I filled it up at the water fountain,” said Hizashi, holding it out. “It’s all nice and cold and refreshing!”

Shouta reached out to accept it with a nod of thanks before downing it in one. Hizashi watched, wringing his hands, pretending he didn’t see the tears in his eyes. It never ended well when he acknowledged them.

“Listen,” he said, “I was talking to some of the girls and we were thinking of going to the movies t-”

“I’ll pass.”

“Are you sure? They’re showing vintage movies! Beast Man vs-”

“I’ll pass. Thanks.”

Shouta passed him the empty bottle and turned back towards the mats, stretching out his arms and legs ahead of the exertion.

“You know…” Hizashi started, willing himself to speak, “the reason we’re going...it’s because it’s been a year...since…”

Shouta froze in place, still in the process of stretching.

Say something, Hizashi willed himself, though if he meant it for himself or Shouta he wasn’t sure.

Say something.

SAY SOMETHING.

“I’ll pass,” said Shouta at last, relaxing his body and walking back to the rope.

Hizashi watched, squeezing the empty water bottle until the plastic began to buckle.

“I, uh,” he said, smile fading, “I’ll get you some more water!”

“Don’t need it.”

He went anyway, closing the door to the gymnasium with a sigh and pressing his back against it. He stared down at the water bottle in his hands, at the condensation coating his fingers and the plastic, before squeezing his eyes shut.

~~~~~~

PRESENT

“We’re going to take a short break now, listeners! Take the time to get yourselves a glass of water and hydrate! It’s good for the skin, ya know?”

He muted his microphone and queued up several tracks before switching on his phone to check his social media. Sometimes his listeners posted questions or sent him interesting articles while he was on air, which made for good talking points when he returned.

He raised an eyebrow when well over a dozen missed calls and voicemails came through in swift succession. He scrolled through them, heart sinking when he realised most of them were from you. Ordinarily he would have been happy to hear from you, but it was difficult under present circumstances.

He wondered if this was it; if you were calling him to announce you and Shouta were finally a couple. He had been on the edge of his seat ever since Nemuri confirmed she had successfully gotten you to go in her stead, waiting for the inevitable.

His finger hovered over your name and his stomach churned. He wondered how you would break the news.

He took a deep breath and opened up the voicemail, preparing himself for the worst.

He had expected for you to be happy and laughing, every word overflowing with joy at this new development in your life. His blood ran cold, though, at the reality.

There wasn’t a shred of happiness in your voice, only desperation. You sounded drunk, as if enunciating every syllable took every ounce of strength you had.

Hizashi...I don’t know when you’ll get this...but something’s happening at the camp. I think it’s the League of Villains...they’re here! They have one of the creatures from USJ. Please, even if you can’t call me back, let the authorities know!

He got up from his chair and loaded up your next voicemail with shaking hands.

Your words were even slower this time.

Hizashi. When you get this, please call me, okay? There are three villains here so far and one of them is Moonfish. The students don’t know. They’re in danger!

He had heard of Moonfish. Everyone had. The details surrounding his arrest were considered too gruesome for public knowledge, so naturally everyone knew them.

He wondered how you could possibly have known Moonfish was present without seeing him; how you could have gotten close to one of the USJ creatures without being seen yourself.

He loaded the third and final voicemail, praying you were about to tell him you were fine, that you had gotten to safety and the pros were dealing with it. He swore he’d forgive you if it turned out to be a prank.

He sank to the floor, though, when you finally began to speak.

Hizashi, I think...I’m dying. Everything’s going dark. When you get this, please, just remember this address. Give it to the police...it’s-

Your phone cut out then and for a second he couldn’t breathe.

“No, no, no,” he said, frantically going through his phone in search of another voicemail, anything from you, any proof you were alive.

You hadn’t called him after that. You had sent him multiple text messages of the same address, though nothing after that final voicemail.

“Pick up, pick up, pick up,” he said, dialling your number and chewing his thumbnail as it began to ring.

Your phone did ring, though no one answered.

It lay forgotten in the corner of an ambulance.

~~~~~

TICK

TOCK

TICK

TOCK

Shouta stared blankly at the clock on the wall, thoughts fuzzy and mouth dry. He couldn’t settle on a singular train of thought, staring into space even as the doctor lifted a pen torch and shone it in his eye.

Due in part to its remote location, the incident in the forest was an even bigger rescue effort than the Hosu attack not long before it. Police and medical teams were called in from all nearby cities, the former spending the night scouring the woods for stragglers and forensic evidence while the latter tended to the wounded. Several interns from Musutafu’s own hospitals were shipped in to join the effort and, while the more experienced doctors tended to the critically wounded, they checked for broken bones and signs of trauma, ran errands and lab tests for their superiors and in some cases even offered up an extra pair of hands during the more complicated procedures.

The moment he arrived at the hospital, Shouta was sent for a onceover by one such doctor, who was dressed in the tell tale embroidered scrubs of Musutafu’s university hospital. He introduced himself briskly before running through a few basic tests on his motor functions and rapid fire questions about his overall health.

Shouta barely remembered getting to the hospital. He couldn’t think of anything other than your bloody lips. Vlad had had to hold him back when the EMTs arrived because he had tried to stop them, convinced beyond reason that they would injure you further. He had a sneaking suspicion that that was why they had assigned such a freakishly tall doctor to give him a onceover.

Someone knocked at the door and the doctor slipped his pen torch back inside of his pocket.

“Come in,” he called out, getting up to reach for his clipboard as Tsukauchi let himself into the room and gave the young doctor a polite bow. Shouta noticed his eyes lit up when he saw the doctor’s name tag, though didn’t question it.

“Good evening,” said Tsukauchi, “I hope I’m not interrupting.”

“It’s fine,” said the doctor, “I’m finished here.”

He turned to Shouta with the telltale stern expression of medics the world over.

“You don’t have any long lasting injuries,” he said, “but it’s crucial you rest.”

Tsukauchi laughed under his breath as the doctor gave him a nod and dismissed himself from the room.

“How are the students?” Shouta asked, thinking of the fear in their eyes.

He had arrived at the hospital long after them, when both the police and pro heroes at the scene agreed to postpone the search for Ragdoll until daybreak. What’s more, due to his own admission and examination, he hadn’t had the chance to properly check in on them, which he bitterly regretted. They needed familiar faces at a time like this, someone in a position of authority who knew what they needed to hear.

They needed you at a time like this.

“(Name),” said Shouta. “Is she…”

The last time he had seen you was when the EMTs bundled you into an air ambulance and no one had been able to give him an update since. Tsukauchi’s face fell at the mention of you and he instantly feared the worst.

“She’s in critical condition,” he said at last, choosing his words carefully. “The last I heard, they were still operating on her. Actually...that’s why I came to speak to you.”

“Oh?”

“I spoke to Vlad,” he said. “He tells me you received a text message from her before…well.”

Shouta stiffened, remembering the multiple messages that had come through the moment he returned to the classroom; messages you had almost certainly typed with bloody fingers.

“I wanted to ask,” said Tsukauchi, “this address...does it have any personal significance to her?”

“She conducted interrogations with you after USJ,” said Shouta. “You’ve seen her quirk in action. Surely you understand its value as intel?”

“I do,” he said, “but…”

He paused, both of them knowing what he meant to say.

People did strange things on the brink of death. Perhaps that address had nothing to do with the attack, but a deeper significance.

“It’s intel,” he said, refusing to accept the alternative. “We’ll be able to ask her tomorrow.”

“Of course, of course,” said Tsukauchi, getting up from his chair and giving him a polite nod. “We’ve postponed taking statements until tomorrow morning. Rest up for now. The doctors will have my head if you don’t.”

Shouta watched him leave, before leaning back against the pillows and closing his eyes.  

TICK

TOCK

TICK

Shouta...I need to talk to you.

TOCK

We’ll be able to ask her tomorrow.

TICK

TOCK

It’s crucial you rest.

At some point, though he didn’t know when, he had convinced himself that you would be awake by sunrise.

In a few hours you would be able to tell them what happened to Ragdoll. You could tell them the significance of the address.

He couldn’t rest until then.

~~~~~

You weren’t awake by sunrise. As a matter of fact, you were still in surgery and blissfully unaware of the chaos erupting around you.

You were asleep when the hospital called not only your next of kin but those of the first year students; you were on the operating table when All Might and Nezu received the news.

You didn’t find out until much later about Bakugo’s kidnapping, nor the true extent of the damage.

You never found out about Nezu’s immediate safety protocol to slow the inevitable hordes of press. While Nemuri and Hizashi had both received missed calls and knew about the incident, they were instructed to continue as if nothing had changed. Nemuri returned to her television interview, a fresh layer of makeup to disguise the fact that she had sobbed in the bathroom ten minutes beforehand. Hizashi greeted his listeners and continued to play tracks, though his happy tone didn’t meet his eyes and he took far fewer chat breaks than normal. Every time the music faded, he listened to your voicemails, wondering if that would be the last time he ever heard your voice.

You had no idea Shouta spent the night wandering the corridors and checking in on his students, calling your number whenever he was alone. He never left a message, just listened to the joy in your voice.

Hello, this is (Name). I’m not around at the moment, please leave a message!

He didn’t want to think about what you had actually said to him before being taken away.

...it’s unfair...unfair...un...fair.

What was unfair?

That the first year students had faced so much danger so soon?

That you had most likely sustained such a serious wound trying to help the investigation?

That your body lay bruised and broken and not-

He thought of body bags and bloodied gravel before he could stop himself; another body at a different time. He dug his nails into his palms, into well worn scars and calluses, and dialled your number again.

~~~~~

It was only a matter of time before journalists caught wind of the blood in the water and flocked to UA for answers. Much like the Hosu incident, Nezu summoned several of the remaining members of the faculty to discuss recent events. Not only was there a lot of ground to cover and decisions to be made, but very little time to do so.

Everyone was restless for different reasons; Nemuri picked at her nails, Hizashi toed the floor with his boot, All Might fidgeted in his seat. The only remotely composed one was Nezu, though every so often his gaze drifted to the newspapers in front of him.

“We’ll hold a press conference tomorrow,” he said, thoughtfully. “After Aizawa and Vlad have given their statements, I’ll brief them on a plan of action. For now it’s important we cooperate with the police and prepare for the worst case scenario.”

“This is my fault,” said All Might. “I should have never come to UA this year.”

“This isn’t the time for blame,” said Nezu. “Right now we must deal with the immediate problems at hand. The students will require not only medical care but a full psychological review before they return to classes next semester… we will have to organise a replacement counsellor.”

Everyone grew tense at that.

“Temporary,” said Hizashi.

“Hm?”

“ Temporary counsellor, not a replacement. We have a perfectly good one already.”

Nezu sighed.

“(Name) suffered heavy blood loss and remains in critical condition,” he said. “You must forgive me for taking into account the worst case scenario. If (Name) survives…”

“She will.”

“... if she survives, it will be at least a month before she returns to her duties. We’ll need a replacement until she is recovered.”

Hizashi shook his head at the mental image alone of your injuries. You should have been there with them, not bleeding out on an operating table.

“Don’t misunderstand my actions,” said Nezu, far more gently than before, “I don’t want to entertain the idea of losing one of our own either. It’s not something I take lightly. I’m wishing for (Name)’s recovery as much as any one of you, but we should not ignore the facts. We cannot allow UA to fall. We cannot allow our society to fall into chaos. Her sacrifice and that of so many others must not be in vain.”

~~~~~~

While Nezu and the other teachers discussed tactics, Shouta and Vlad were at the police station and arguably just as tense. It certainly didn’t help matters that the room Tsukauchi had chosen to take their statements was just as silent and sterile as the hospital, a fact he tried to downplay by offering them strong coffee and a sympathetic ear.

Vlad stole glances at Aizawa as he described the events of the night before, taking in the ever present bags under his eyes. He had gone through not one but three cups of black coffee since their arrival with no sign of slowing down any time soon. Vlad knew all too well that Aizawa was a night owl, but today it stood out to him in ways it never had before.

He remembered the way you had knocked at Aizawa’s bedroom door; your bright blush and panicked expression when he caught you. He remembered your conversation at breakfast the day before- how desperate you had been to talk to him.

There was only one rational explanation for both your behaviour and Aizawa’s own, an explanation that up until recently he had found interesting, though now struck him as tragic.

He wondered how composed he would have been in Aizawa’s position. He didn’t have a lover and couldn’t imagine how it would feel to find one on the brink of death. He wondered what it was you meant to say to Aizawa that day.

As Tsukauchi stepped out of the room to speak to his subordinate, Vlad stared into his own neglected cup of coffee, wanting to break the awkward silence but unsure how to do so. This wasn’t the time for idle chit chat or jokes, but he was tired of talking about the incident.

“I’m sorry,” he said at last, “for back then.”

Seeing you hurt had shaken Aizawa so badly that Vlad had had to hit him in the face to bring him even slightly back to earth. He felt guilty for it, especially as Aizawa was clearly suffering the ill effects of a panic attack, but in that moment he had little choice. You weren’t dead yet but you would be if they didn’t act quickly and he wasn’t capable of giving both of you his undivided attention.

“S’fine,” said Aizawa before downing the remnants of his fourth plastic cup of coffee. “It was the best course of action under the circumstances. I would have done the same.”

Vlad chuckled under his breath, knowing he absolutely would.

Tsukauchi returned to the room a matter of seconds later, clutching a file under his arm and grinning widely. It was as if he had had a new lease of life and Vlad was more than a little intrigued about what had caused it.

“Sorry for keeping you waiting,” he said, as if he had been gone for an hour as opposed to a few minutes. “There’s been a development.”

He sat back down and opened up the file, revealing a typed report and black and white photographs of a shabby building.

“I had my team run a check on the address (Name) sent out,” he said, pushing one of the photographs across the table. “It’s a building in Kamino ward, mostly abandoned. A while ago, one of my team investigated a tip off about suspicious looking people in that area, though ultimately it didn’t amount to much of anything because there was far too much ground to cover. Among the witness statements was a description of a man with a patchwork face.”

Aizawa tensed, realisation sinking in.

“You mean…”

“I think,” said Tsukauchi, “that the patchwork faced man in this report is the same one you encountered at the lodge. The address (Name) sent so many times…”

“It’s their lair,” said Vlad. “It’s got to be.”

Aizawa rubbed his temples, face crumpling with the smallest of smiles.

“What are you planning to do next?” said Vlad. “If this really is the lair of the League of Villains…that’s where we’ll find Katsuki Bakugou.”

“We need to think carefully before we act,” said Tsukauchi. “If we attack too slowly, they’re more likely to shift bases, especially after making such a dramatic move. That said, if we move too quickly and without all of the facts...it could be dangerous for all involved.”

He laughed under his breath and turned to Aizawa.

“You were right,” he said. “This is valuable intel.”

“You can thank her when this is over.”

Tsukauchi smiled, though it didn’t reach his eyes. He knew all too well that there was every chance he’d be thanking your gravestone instead of you.

“I will.”

~~~~~

“Nemuri?”

Hizashi turned away from the desk.

“Nemuri? Where did you go?”

Instead of attending the emergency staff meeting, Recovery Girl had gone to the hospital, where her efforts were most needed. She kissed away broken bones and bruises and greeted more than her fair share of distraught parents, as well as scolding any badly injured students she happened to catch out of bed.

She also took the opportunity to update Nezu on the state of the injured, from the ill effects of gas to who was conscious and who would need a little longer to recover. She was the first to know when you were released from surgery; the first to pass on the message that you had been moved to the ICU.

Nemuri, Hizashi and All Might had immediately insisted on visiting the wards, all three overwhelmed with guilt. If All Might or Nemuri had been present, the night might have ended differently.

All Might turned down any offer of a ride to the hospital, instead making a pit stop to catch up with Tsukauchi, leaving Nemuri and Hizashi to arrive without him. It was a decision that paid off in the long run, for nobody recognised the pair in their civilian clothes as they would the Symbol of Peace.

After they showed their hero licenses at the front desk, the receptionist had picked up the phone to call in for someone to escort them to your room and somehow, in the middle of everything, Nemuri had disappeared.

Hizashi wondered if she’d gone to the washroom, only for his heart to sink when he saw her.

She was standing outside of the gift shop, staring into the glassy eyes of simultaneously the tallest and ugliest teddy bear he had ever seen.

Hizashi left the reception desk and walked towards her, eying up the bear.

“Thinking of treating yourself?” he asked, prompting her to sigh and fold her arms.

“I’ve never understood it,” she said.

“Teddy bears?”

“No. Gift shops in hospitals. Who would want a souvenir of something like this?”

“It’s not only bad stuff that happens here.”

“Right now it doesn’t feel that way.”

He wanted to tell her that it wasn’t her fault and no one could have predicted this, but it felt hypocritical.

“I promise,” he said, wrapping an arm over her shoulder, “something good will come out of this. Somehow, in ways we don’t know about yet. In the future we’ll look back on today and...well, maybe not laugh, but smile at least.”

“If that ever happens, I’m buying this bear.”

~~~~~~

Your room was in a secluded area of the hospital, far from the prying eyes of not only the public, but injured students. Nezu had insisted on it, for the scope of your injuries were not public knowledge and certainly not known to the students. They had not seen you taken away in an ambulance, nor had they seen you pinned to a tree. They had been told you suffered injuries, but nothing that would add to the trauma of that night.

Perhaps it was the echo of their footsteps against the floor, combined with the sterile walls and shapeless furniture, but it felt like they were entering forbidden territory.

“In here,” said the nurse, tapping at one of the doors a couple of times before guiding them inside.

Hizashi had tried to prepare himself for the worst. He had listened to your voicemails, imagination twisting and turning. Nothing, though, prepared him for what greeted him on the other side.

You looked small , tubes connecting you to multiple machines and cuts and bruises still visible underneath the oxygen mask. Perhaps the worst part of it all was how peaceful you looked, just the same as you had when you had rested in his arms, dressed in nothing but a t-shirt with his face on. Back then he could think of nothing worse than waking you; he had held himself so still that he had a crick in his neck for days afterwards.

He would have given anything to go back. If he knew then what he knew now, he would have nudged you awake and chatted the night away. He would have offered up that round two, taking you so hard in the bathtub that water spilled out and soaked the tiles. He would have kissed you at your kitchen table instead of saying he didn’t want you as you were.

“You okay?”

Nemuri poked him. He took a deep breath and walked towards the bed, setting himself down in the chair beside you and dragging it closer until he could lean over and rest his head against yours, relishing the warmth of your forehead. You weren’t dead. Not yet.

“What do you think she’d say if it was one of us?” said Nemuri, stepping closer and running her fingertips across the back of your hand. “If the roles were reversed and you, me or Eraser were here instead.”

“Hmmmmmm.”

Hizashi sat up and scratched his chin, thinking back to the sports festival, the sushi bar, Les Papilles . He remembered the night of the Hosu incident; the way you had looped your arms around Shouta’s middle; the way you stood up onto your tiptoes; the words that left your lips.

“I have to go,” he said at last, leaning over to kiss you on the forehead before getting to his feet.

“But we just got here,” said Nemuri, “why w-”

“There’s something I have to do,” he said, hurrying out of the room. “Something I should’ve done a long time ago.”

Nemuri watched him leave, a bewildered expression across her face. She turned back to you, searching for the answers in your sleeping features and ultimately giving up, sinking down into a chair and taking your hand in hers. She stroked your palms and linked her fingers through yours, breathing a heavy sigh at your chipped nail polish.

She reached into her purse and pulled out one of the several bottles she carried everywhere for when she scuffed her own.

“Now then,” she said, unscrewing the lid and stretching out your fingers, “let’s fix you up.”

~~~~~~~

Shouta returned home after leaving the police station, though not out of choice. He wanted to go back to the hospital, but had been advised against doing so, leaving him little choice but to accept the ride.

He understood the logic of it, but spent only about five minutes at home before leaving again. He didn’t go to the hospital, or anywhere the press might be lurking, instead heading for the 24 hour store a couple of blocks from his house. He genuinely did need to stock up on eyedrops, aspirin and cat food. It was a reasonable excuse to be out and about.

He was fine until he got to the counter and happened to notice a display of fresh peaches. Within seconds he remembered Yamanashi- remembered that you had been planning to go.

He came home with two punnets and placed them on his coffee table. He had no intention of eating them, but couldn’t stand the idea of leaving the store without them. In many ways, leaving without them felt like leaving without you.

He laid back on his couch, Sushi taking the chance to curl up on his stomach and purr. Normally this was the perfect recipe for an afternoon nap, but the peaches sat in his peripheral vision and he kept his eyes wide open.

He wasn’t sure how long he stared at the ceiling, only that Sushi darted under the table at the sound of heavy knocking at the front door. Shouta winced at the sudden, sharp pain of paws digging into his ribs, wondering if the presses had figured out where he lived.

Maybe they’d leave if he stayed still enough.

He ran his fingers over his middle and wondered if he’d bruise, breathing a sigh of relief as the person outside stopped knocking. The peace and quiet didn’t last long, though, for a matter of moments later a key turned in the lock. He jumped to his feet just as quickly as Sushi had and stumbled towards the kitchen, pressing his back against the wall as the intruder stepped inside.

“Sho, are you here?”

It was Hizashi, which retrospectively shouldn’t have come as much of a surprise. Shouta only had two keys and had given him the spare so that he could feed Sushi while he was away at camp.

“Sho-”

“I’m here.”

Hizashi clutched a hand to his chest, plainly not expecting him to be standing so close.

“Why are you hiding around the corner?”

“I thought you were a journalist.”

“A journalist who has a key ?”

“You never know,” sighed Shouta, turning back to the couch. “What are you doing here, anyway?”

“I came to check in on you,” said Hizashi.

“You didn’t have to.”

“No, but I wanted to.”

Shouta faced him, willing him to leave. He hated the way he was looking at him, as if he deserved any sort of sympathy or pity. He remembered it from high school, after Shirakumo’s funeral and subsequent obituary. He hadn’t deserved pity then, either.

“Well,” he said, raising his arms, “as you can see, I’m perfectly fine.”

“I don’t believe you.”

“I don’t care if you believe me or not, it’s the truth.”

“Oh, for goodness’ sake, Shouta,” said Hizashi, rubbing his temples, “you can lie to me all you want, but stop lying to yourself.”

“What do y-”

“Don’t you see? We’ve been here before,” said Hizashi. “This is what happened to-“

“Don’t say it.”

Shouta didn’t want to hear Shirakumo’s name. Not now. Not ever. Hizashi refused to back down, though.

“You weren’t fine then and you aren’t fine now,” he said, “and I can’t do this again.”

Hizashi squeezed his hands into fists and braced his body. Shouta watched, more than a little bit curious. This was the first time he had ever seen Hizashi so angry and without even the slightest hint of a smile.

“I should have told you back then,” he said, trembling, “but I didn’t...and you were gone for so long …”

“Gone? You mean when I went underground? Before UA?”

“No...yes,” Hizashi turned away and tangled his fingers in his hair. “No. When you started sleeping through the day...when you didn’t pay attention in class anymore…you were gone and it took years for you to come back.”

“I still sleep during the day,” said Shouta, “I don’t-“

“It’s not your fault,” said Hizashi. “It was never your fault. What happened to Shirakumo...what happened to (Name)...it’s not your fault.”

Shouta remembered the rubble; the sound of Shirakumo’s voice in his ear. If he had moved just a little faster...if he had been just a little more aware of his surroundings...

“You wouldn’t understand,” he said, shaking his head as if to shake away the memory.

“I wouldn’t understand?” Hizashi laughed in disbelief. “My quirk was one of the ones that killed him, Sho! (Name) wouldn’t have been there if it wasn’t for me.”

“Wait... what ?”

As far as he knew, (Name) had been a substitute chaperone. What did any of that have to do with Hizashi?

“What do you mean she was there because of you?”

“Nemuri was completely fine,” said Hizashi, “she dropped out so (Name) would go instead…she did it for me . Nemuri should have been there. (Name) should have been home.”

Shouta froze in place, absorbing this new development.

“I know everything,” breathed Hizashi, stepping closer. “I know that you slept with (Name) before any of us met her. I know that you kept it from us to protect her. I know that you pushed her away because you loved her and she let you do it because she loved you too.”

“I…”

Shouta didn't know what to say; he felt exposed.

“Ask me how I know, Eraser,” said Hizashi, grabbing him by the shirt. “Ask me!”

“Hizashi, you’re being-“

“I know because I did too,” said Hizashi, pulling at the fabric between his fingers. “I slept with her too, on the night of the Hosu incident...I didn’t say anything either, but then I found out about Ego and…” he smiled sadly, “you’d be so good together.”

“That’s not something you get to decide.”

“You’re right, I don’t,” said Hizashi. “But you don't either. Do you think I’m an idiot? Do you think I wouldn’t piece it together? If (Name) was really the girl from Ego ...if you really did care for each other that much...why did she sit there and hit on me ? Could it be that someone had already put the idea in her head ?!”

“Hizash-“

“It’s unfair, Shouta,” said Hizashi, “we’re completely different people, but we both made the same mistake. We both decided we knew better for (Name) and each other without askin’ first.”

Unfair …

Shouta remembered that word crossing your lips and felt sick.

“You shouldn’t punish yourself over this,” said Hizashi, quietly, “don’t offer yourself up as someone else’s scapegoat. If you’re going to blame someone-“

“Why shouldn’t I? You weren’t there. I was,” said Shouta, the words leaving his lips before he could stop them. “I could have saved her.”

“No, you couldn’t have,” said Hizashi. “Even if you kept her with you, there’s no telling what would have happened.”

“Shut up.”

“No, I won’t! I stayed quiet for years. I pretended I didn’t see because I didn’t know what to do. I-“

“Shut...up…”

“I won’t!” Hizashi cried out, so loudly that the furniture began to rattle. “I’ll keep saying it until you believe it. It wasn’t-“

“Shut up.”

“-your-“

“Stop!”

“-fau-“

Hizashi never got the chance to finish, because Shouta shoved him in one last ditch attempt to get out of his grip, leaving both of them tumbling to the floor, Hizashi landing flat on his back and Shouta taking the chance to straddle his waist.

“Shut up,” said Shouta, taking hold of Hizashi’s collar and squeezing his eyes shut. “Shut...up.”

Hizashi lay perfectly still, watching as one tear landed on him and then another.

“It was my fault...my fault...my fault. How can you say we’d be good together? I don’t deserve to look her in the face. She’s a civilian...I’m a pro.”

He didn’t say what he was thinking, what he had been thinking ever since he and Hizashi stood in the rain well over a decade ago, surrounded by ruined buildings and shattered dreams.

It should have been me.

He had been thinking it since he first saw Shirakumo being taken away in a body bag; he’d been thinking it ever since the EMTs took you away.

“You forgot, didn’t you?” said Hizashi. “What she said on the night of the Hosu incident.”

Shouta squinted, thinking back to then.

He remembered watching as you and Hizashi arrived, both smelling of tangerines. He remembered how angry he had been that evening, how he had decided to sneak in an early morning patrol to burn off both the adrenaline and jealousy. He remembered finding you there in floods of tears and embracing both Hizashi and Nemuri. He remembered what came next.

He had turned to leave, only to hear the clack of heels against the pavement. He knew it was you and didn’t bother to flinch when you stood up onto your tiptoes and wrapped your arms around his middle. He remembered peering over his shoulder and into your face, taking in your enormous smile.

Thank you.

What for?

You looked him in the face, determined smile transforming into a gentle one.

Tell me...tonight, with Stain, was there anything more you could have done?

His skin prickled from your quirk, but he didn’t erase it.

No.

He hadn’t expected that to be the answer. He hoped it didn’t show on his face, but it plainly did, for you had giggled and squeezed him harder.

You should be kinder to yourself. No one likes living with a bully.

Shouta stared down at Hizashi, who still hadn’t moved.

“Stop it,” he murmured. He couldn’t stand the idea that you’d forgive him.

“Sho,” said Hizashi, looking down, “if she d-“

“Don’t…”

Hizashi placed his hands over the ones that clutched his collar.

“Shouta,” he said, “she wouldn’t want you to beat yourself up over this. She’d tell you you did your best! The only thing she’d be mad at you for is blaming yourself for something out of your control.”

Shouta couldn’t look at him. He couldn’t stand the way he held onto him; couldn’t stand thinking of him as an anchor.

He couldn’t stand acknowledging he was right.

He had gotten used to bottling his emotions; had accepted his fate of sealing off the cracks. He had resigned himself to squeezing onto them, contorting them and resculpting them to keep them from spilling out, but seeing you had broken the glass and set them free. He felt everything all at once, grief to love to anguish to joy. He couldn’t hold onto any single sensation any more than he could hold water in his hands.

He didn’t want to think about anything; didn’t want to feel anything.

No, that was wrong.

He felt like he was drowning and longed for anything else.

“Sho,” said Hizashi, “say something.”

Shouta’s hands shook. He didn’t know what to say. He never had.

“Say something ,” said Hizashi before falling silent, lips crushed under Shouta’s own.

Hizashi’s lips tasted of tears, though whose Shouta couldn’t say. He wished he could stop time and absorb every detail: the softness of Hizashi’s lips and sweet scent of his hair; the tickle of his moustache; the warmth of his breath as the shock faded and both of them realised what was happening.  

Shouta sat up with a start, heart racing and reality sinking in. Hizashi lay wide eyed on the floor, mouth opening and closing.

“I,” said Shouta, instantly worrying he’d gone too far, “I should-“

He moved to get up but Hizashi grabbed him by the shirt and yanked him back down.

“Oh no you don’t,” he said, lifting his head until his lips met Shouta’s.

Shouta had never kissed another man before; he hadn’t kissed very many people in general. He had expected it to feel wrong somehow, yet it came as naturally to him as breathing. He caught himself wondering why he’d never kissed Hizashi before. It wasn’t as if he’d never thought about it.

“What are we doing?” he murmured.

“Do you want to stop?”

“Fuck no.”

He reached down to slip his hand under Hizashi’s shirt, relishing the gasp he got as he brushed his fingers over exposed skin.  He had always been quietly jealous when Hizashi mentioned sleeping with complete strangers. They never had to worry about what he’d think about them afterwards. Right then, Shouta was too exhausted and emotional to care either and it felt strangely liberating.

“Sho,” said Hizashi as he dragged off his shirt and tossed it aside, “have you ever...with another guy?”

“No. You?”

Shouta shrugged off his own shirt and threw it halfway across the room, narrowly missing the door to the balcony.

He had seen Hizashi naked before. This wasn’t the first time they’d helped one another out of their clothes. It was different now, though. This time around, it wasn’t because one of them was injured. They weren’t in public baths or the locker room. This was new and all consuming and Shouta wanted to lose himself in it.

“Yeah,” sighed Hizashi, “once or twice. Sho-”

“Mmm?”

“How far were you thinking of going?”

Shouta took in his shaky voice and glanced down at him, taking in the tears trailing from his eyes to the carpet.

“Did you not want to?”

“It’s not that,” said Hizashi, flushing scarlet, “it’s just that if you wanted to...y’know...you should probably let me take the lead.”

Shouta nodded and shifted his weight, giving Hizashi room to sit up. He was only too happy to hand over control- beyond kissing he didn’t really know what he was doing. He’d never touched any other dick but his own and under ordinary circumstances would have talked himself out of it by now.

Hizashi ran his hands from Shouta’s shoulders to his chest and pushed him over onto his back, crashing his lips against his as he linked his fingers in Shouta’s belt loops. Shouta yanked at his hair tie in response, relishing the way it cascaded forward and enveloped him in sunlight.

He would never admit to it, but he’d always been a fan of long hair and almost all of it stemmed from Hizashi.

Hizashi dragged away his belt and fiddled with Shouta’s fly, lips never once breaking contact.

“Off with these,” he said, gripping onto Shouta’s waistband and easing off his pants and boxers, eyes widening at the sight of his fully exposed body.

He was covered in leftover bruises from the attack at the lodge, as well as old scars from other incidents, such as the attack on USJ. Normally he didn’t pay them much heed: they were as much a part of him as his arms and legs and other people rarely saw them. Right now, though, they were all he could think about.

“Damn Shouta,” Hizashi chuckled, “I never noticed you were packin’.”

“Shut up,” he said, heat rising in his cheeks and making Hizashi laugh even harder.

They had seen each other naked before but never looked any more than was polite. There was no room for modesty now, yet Shouta’s instinct was still to cover himself up. He moved a hand to cover his dick, though Hizashi caught it before he could, laughing as he coaxed his hand away.

“Seems a little unfair that I’m the only one who’s naked.”

“All in good time.”

Hizashi’s belt jingled as it hit the floor and Shouta watched as he reached for his zipper. He stopped before unfastening his pants and looked up, tilting his head to the side in confusion.

“What is it?”

“You don’t want to undress me?”

“I…”

Shouta both did and didn’t. He wanted to relish this moment and drink in every inch of Hizashi’s naked body...but he wanted to touch it too. His silence proved enough of an answer, though, for Hizashi swiftly grinned.

“So you like to watch, eh? Interesting…”

He loosened his zipper and kicked off his pants, taking care to stretch out each movement as much as possible. Shouta stared unapologetically, taking in the shape of his body and bounce of his hard dick as he dropped his underwear to the floor.

“Like what you see?”

He didn’t know what to say, so nodded instead, watching as Hizashi lowered himself down onto his elbows. Shouta inhaled deeply, taking in the warmth of Hizashi’s body against his, the sweet scent emanating from his hair, the hardness of his dick against his own.

“Say something,” said Hizashi, so softly that Shouta barely heard him.

Everything was going to be different after this and he tangled his fingers in Hizashi’s hair.

“Shut up and kiss me.”

And he did.

He kissed him so hard that at first he couldn’t breathe, only letting up when Shouta grazed his teeth over his bottom lip. Hizashi moaned and Shouta sucked at his throat, hands trailing down Hizashi’s chest and over his nipple, taking care to slow his touches as he crossed over the stud there.

Shouta remembered when he got that nipple piercing. They were still teenagers at the time and Hizashi had gotten into an argument with his mother over it. She let him grow out his hair, she let him wear the most obnoxiously bright glasses he could find, her only condition to letting him stay up until the early hours of the morning working on his radio show was that his grades didn’t suffer and he only did it once a week. The piercing, though, was where she drew the line.

He scoped out pretty much every piercing shop in Musutafu, desperate to find one that wouldn’t ask too many questions, much less demand parental consent.

The one he settled for in the end was more than a little bit seedy and almost certainly at the epicenter of criminal activity. Shirakumo insisted on bringing a camera and perfectly captured the exact moment the piercing gun punctured Hizashi’s body and he regretted everything.

It was as sensitive now as it was then, leaving Hizashi moaning into his open mouth. Hizashi ground his hips against Shouta’s, bare skin colliding with bare skin. Shouta’s mind fell blank at the feel of Hizashi’s hard dick against his own, the sudden stimulation sending shivers down his spine.

He had never felt anything like this before. He ran a hand down Hizashi’s back, gripping onto his bare ass as he thrust his hips against him.

“Shouta,” said Hizashi, “do you trust me?”

It was a weird question and Shouta laid back, taking in his flushed face and tousled hair.

“What kind of question is that?”

“But do you?”

He nodded.

“Okay,” he said, taking hold of both of his hands and laying them on the floor, one on either side of his head. “Put your hands up.”

Shouta watched, bewildered, as he let go and sat up onto his knees, spreading Shouta’s legs and maneuvering himself into the gap.

“What...are you…”

His stomach fluttered, imagination running wild with possibilities.

“I haven’t been able to stop thinking about it,” said Hizashi sheepishly. “Ever since I found out what happened at Ego ...I know what (Name) feels like...I know what she sounds like...but I don’t know that about you .”

He scratched his chin and took a long look at Shouta’s body.

“Sho,” he said, “I want to know what you sound like.”

Shouta recalled his own dreams; the numerous obscene scenarios that had entered his imagination after he realised you and Hizashi had slept together. He and Hizashi couldn’t have been any more different, but when it came to the important things they were the same.

He nodded, taking note of the gleam in Hizashi’s eyes, heart skipping a beat as he spat in his open palm and took hold of both of their cocks.

Hizashi jerked him -both of them- hard and fast, so quickly that Shouta couldn’t keep track of his movements, only the shuddering it sent through his body. The last time he had had sex with another person was with you. Any time he came after that had been purely accidental.

It didn’t take much for him to moan in desperation, for him to dig his fingers into the carpet above his head. He sucked in a deep breath, close to the point of no return, only for Hizashi to stop. Shouta glanced up at him, wondering if he’d done something wrong or Hizashi had changed his mind.

The truth couldn’t have been more infuriating. Hizashi gazed down at him, mischief in his eyes.

“Oh, you,” Shouta said, realising the situation he was in, “you fucker .”

“I mean, if we’re going to be technical,” said Hizashi, pointing down at their hips, “you’re just as guilty as me on that front.”

Shouta lifted his hands, wanting nothing more than to drag Hizashi to the ground.

“Ahhh, no,” said Hizashi, “hands up, remember?”

Shouta cursed under his breath, but obeyed, laying his hands flat against the carpet.

He couldn’t believe he’d fallen for this. He knew Hizashi was into edging. Hizashi was into anything that left his partner a shuddering mess.

After a few more seconds of torture, Hizashi took hold of their dicks again, jerking them slowly this time. He took the time to run his fingers along the underside of Shouta’s cock, along the sensitive spot right underneath the tip and giving it a perfectly timed squeeze. Shouta bucked his hips into his touches, willing him to go faster, but Hizashi did quite the opposite. He slowed down to an infuriatingly slow pace, watching in satisfaction as Shouta’s hands twitched, eager to finish the job.

Truth be told, Shouta really did trust him. That was the only thing keeping him still. He could have kicked him off at any moment, could have escaped his grip without breaking a sweat. He didn’t want to, though. Every second he spent there, moaning and frustrated, he wasn’t thinking about his failures. Right then that was all he needed.

Only when Shouta had gotten used to this new pace did Hizashi go faster, jerking at both of their cocks just as quickly as before, only this time squeezing tighter. Shouta dug his nails into his palms, tracing over the familiar calluses and holding his breath, stomach clenching and body tensing in anticipation of the pleasure to come. Just as before, though, Hizashi slowed down.

“Not long now,” said Hizashi, “just a little more.”

Shouta prepared himself for another round of slow, gentle touches, only to be completely taken off guard. Hizashi jerked them both fast and hard, so hard that it sent Shouta over the edge with only a couple of minutes. His mind fell blank and he called out in pleasure, wriggling in place as he spilled all over Hizashi’s fingers, liquid pleasure seeping from Hizashi’s fist and onto his stomach, all while Hizashi continued to pump. Shouta cried out from overstimulation; Hizashi whined as his own climax came, leaving his own cum to escape his fist and mix with Shouta’s until the pair of them were a sweating mess.

Hizashi let go and gasped for air, covered in a sheen of sweat and the occasional drop of cum on his chest. He looked down at Shouta, who was just as breathless, body still twitching from release.

Shouta barely noticed as Hizashi moved to lie down next to him. He was too far gone to pay attention to anything other than the pleasure rushing through his body.

“You know,” panted Hizashi, “you can’t do that every time you want me to shut up.”

“Why not? Seemed to work.”

Shouta glanced around the room; at their discarded clothes and dirty bodies. He knew it would bother him later, but right then he didn’t care about very much of anything. He looked over his shoulder, taking in Hizashi’s flushed face beside him. The softness was fading from it, back to the one of concern from when he arrived.

“Shall we talk about it?”

Shouta sighed, looking away.

“We really should talk about it,” said Hizashi, reaching for his glasses. “We’ll need to-umph!”

Shouta had reached for one of the peaches on his coffee table. The same one currently stuffed in Hizashi’s mouth.

“Later,” said Shouta, to which Hizashi sighed and sank his teeth into the peach.

They lay there in silence for quite some time, Hizashi making it about halfway through the fruit before Shouta began to speak.

“With my life,” he said.

“Hmm?”

“I trust you with it,” he said, grabbing a peach of his own and taking an enormous bite before he could say anything embarrassing.

Well, he thought as Hizashi squeaked through a mouthful of peach, visibly delighted by the revelation, even more embarrassing.

~~~~~

The rest of the day passed quickly.

Shouta frowned through the bathroom door as a towel-clad Hizashi rifled through his wardrobe in search of a suit for the upcoming media interview.

Visiting hours came to a close and Nemuri planted a kiss to your forehead before returning home.

Tsukauchi stayed awake long into the night, going over strategies and making phone calls.

Nezu lit a cigar and stared into the smoke as it hit the night air, contemplating potential futures and outcomes.

You slept through all of it, completely unaware of the struggles of everyone around you.

Night fell and your room remained untouched by the world outside. You stayed asleep as police guarded the corridors; as media outlets scrambled for answers. You didn’t move as midnight struck and someone climbed through your bedroom window. Someone who, realistically, should have known better.

You stayed still and oblivious as they stood at the foot of your bed, taking in your freshly painted fingernails and tranquil expression.

They came and went from your room like a ghost, whispering an apology in your ear and planting a kiss on your forehead, willing you to remember it.

You didn’t remember it.

When you woke up, in fact, quite some time later, you didn’t remember much of anything. You didn’t know where you were, didn’t know how you’d gotten there.

You were sure of only one thing: that the first thing you saw when you opened your eyes was a punnet of fresh peaches.

[kireii-writes]

I won’t let you go

-

a huff of annoyance escaped from your lips as your footsteps blended in with the silent night. it was 2:14am, and you were supposed to be back home, snuggling under your toasty blanket and letting your soft bed engulf you in a soft hug as you drift of to sleep. but no, hero work had other plans for you. instead, you were out here in the wee hours of the night, keeping your eyes peeled for any villains. you weren’t supposed to be here- a regular hero was supposed to be in your place instead, but the pro-heros got word that members of the villain league were seen lurking around, and they just had to pick you to keep a lookout just in case.  

sighing to yourself, you grumbled at the task beforehand. you weren’t paid enough to be called out of bed while everyone was still asleep. making your way towards the area where the villains were supposedly spotted, you secretly hoped there were none as a certain childhood friend came across your mind. 

tenko shimura. 

or rather, shigaraki tomura. 

you remembered the day tragedy fell on shigaraki and his family like it just happened yesterday. how the little boy, who was full of sunshine, became an empty shell of his former self instead. when you first got wind of the League Of Villains and pictures of each member, you had a bad feeling. there was something familiar about the leader. who knew, that your worst fear turned out to be true- shigaraki really grew up to become a villain. but who could blame him, after everything he went through as a child? 

~~~

Thwack! the sound of skin hitting on skin resonated through the house as the young boy fell to the ground. it wasn’t the first time you’d seen tenko’s father physically hit him because of the young boy’s talks about being a hero. in fact, it was a normal occurrence in the shimura family. 

“y/n,” you looked up with frightened eyes at your best friend’s mother, who looked back at you with kind eyes.”why don’t you return to the room and wait for tenko?” she encouraged. you wanted to stay and help your best friend, but what could you do? taking one last glance at a trembling tenko, you ran back to his room as fast as your tiny feet could carry you. 

with every second passing, you were close to running out to find tenko. just as you were about to yank open the door of his bedroom, the door was gently pushed open, and a tenko appeared in the doorway. 

“tenko!” you cried out as you saw the stinging red marks on his face, hands, and legs. “are you okay?” tears were spilling out of your eyes as you stood there, watching tenko give you a bright smile. 

“i’m fine.” your friend smiled. ‘come on, let’s continue playing. stop crying, okay?” tenko grinned at you. not wanting to upset tenko any further, you nodded your head and brushed away the tears that were rolling down your eyes as you joined tenko back onto the floor and resumed the game the both of you loved to play- heroes vs villains. 

“are you really okay? you can live with us! i’m sure papa and mama will understand.” you asked tenko. you half expected tenko to brush off this topic with a ‘i am fine’ just like how he did every single time. but instead, he gave you the brightest smile he could muster given the situation. 

“don’t worry about me y/n.”

“are you sure?”

“yes.”

“...”

“just promise me something.” tenko’s serious tone made you look at your best friend in the eye. 

“become a hero, for me, okay?” 

at tenko’s words, tears began to well up again. 

“what do you mean for you? you can become a hero too! when you grow up, you can do anything you want! that’s what my mama says!” 

“not for me.” tenko shook his head. “papa will never let me be a hero. so you’ll have to become one on my behalf, okay?” tenko smiled and ruffled your hair.

not trusting your words, you swallowed hard and gave him a nod. 

“pinky promise.” tenko smiled as he extended his pinky towards you. intertwining your pinky with his, you vowed to become a hero, all to live tenko’s dreams for him. 

“now, stop crying already. you look so ugly.” the young boy laughed. 

“shut up.”

“never.” 

~~~

that was the last time you ever saw that brilliant smile ever again. a few days later, tenko lost control of his quirk, and everyone in his family perished, leaving the young boy helpless. when you arrived with your parents to his house, the look in tenko’s eyes tore your heart apart. it was a look of agony and pure pain. it was a cry for help. 

instinctively, you wanted to reach out to your best friend, but a hand pulled you back to where you were standing. 

“that boy’s dangerous, y/n.” your father warned. “don’t go near him.” 

soon, a crowd started forming at the entrance of the shimura household. everyone was pointing and whispering at tenko, who stood there numbly. there wasn’t any remains of his family members except for their hands and some mangled body parts. tenko had destroyed them all, and now everyone was calling the boy a murderer, a hindrance to society. everyone was against him, and he had nowhere to go. taking one last look at you, tenko ran back into the house and exited through the back door before the pro-heroes could arrive. afterwards, nobody saw him again. 

sighing to yourself, you were about to turn into a corner when a flicker of light from a bar caught your attention. there was someone in there. cautiously, you approached the bar, and saw a group of people. strange, they didn’t look like ordinary people. in fact, there was some kind of bad gut feeling that you just couldn’t shake off. deciding to take a precaution, you had your phone in your hand, ready to call whichever pro-hero that was on duty to handle the situation with you. you might be a pro-hero, but you aren’t stupid. you knew that there was no way you would be able to handle this all alone.

“hm? a mocking voice came from behind you, causing a cold shiver to trickle down your spine. “what do we have here?”

“oooh, a pro-hero!” another voiced squealed. 

instinctively, you knew who the voices belonged to, unfortunately. 

not daring to move a muscle, your mind raced and churned to find a way out of this tricky situation.

“you’re gonna regret coming here, pro-hero.” dabi chuckled. 

“i want y/n’s blood!” toga called out excitedly. 

“go on in.” dabi mocked as he pushed you forward, causing you to push the door to the bar open. 

immediately, every pair of eyes in the bar was upon you. 

“what did you bring back this time, dabi?” you recognized each and every single person in front of you- they were all members of the League Of Villains, and you’ve just stumbled into their hideout.

“some nosy pro-hero.” dabi scoffed. “we caught this fool lurking outside.” 

‘stop squirming or i’ll roast you alive.” dabi ordered as he tied your hands behind your back.

“wait till shigaraki comes! he’ll know how to handle this situation!” the villain, mr compress ordered. 

“like hell i will wait.” dabi retorted. “why should i wait when i can burn this so-called hero alive right here?” 

“dabi, i swear-”

“what the hell is going on? why is it so noisy?” a voice grumbled out. 

at the sound of the new voice, everyone fell silent. that was when a man in a black jacket emerged from the other room. 

“we caught a pro-hero!” toga answered gleefully. 

“huh? pro-hero?” 

as soon as you saw the man who had spoken, a surprised gasp escaped from your lips.

“tenko?”

immediately, the man in front of you tensed up, the air now deathly still. 

“who are you?” he demanded, his eyes now staring into yours.

almost immediately, a look of recognition dawned on his face. 

“y/n? is that really you?” 

you nodded your head as emotions came rushing through your veins. he recognized you. he hasn’t forgot about you. 

“tenko-”

“it’s shigaraki tomura now.” your childhood friend corrected. “what brings you here? how did you find this place?” he asked as he grinned widely at you. you opened your mouth to speak, but was cut off by him again. since when was he so chatty?

“oh!” shigaraki’s eyes widened at your hero costume. “you’re really a hero now, huh?” 

“i didn’t forget our promise.” you replied quietly. 

“...”

“tomura..?”

the man in front of you seemed to snap out of his daze, and red eyes met yours. “that’s too bad, y/n.”

huh? what did he mean by that? 

“i hate all heroes now.” a maniacal grin appeared on his face. 

“what? didn’t we promise-”

“that was in the past.” shigaraki cut you off harshly. “heroes are noting but titles that make people feel good about themselves!”

“but-”

“you don’t understand, y/n.” shigaraki continued in a gentle tone. “heroes are fakes. they don’t really want to help people, it’s all just for show.” 

“you know that’s not true, tenko!” you cried out.

“it’s shigaraki tomura now.”

“what happened to the boy who looked up to heroes more than anyone else? what happened to the boy that wanted to grow up and help others?” you argued, your eyes watering as you finally realize the tenko you once knew was no gone. 

“he’s dead. along with his stupid dreams of being a hero.” shigaraki continued  emotionlessly. he died on that day the pro-heroes left him to rot away as a hindrance to society. you remember now, don’t you?” his eyes bore into yours as the scene from so many years ago unfolded in your head. 

“now that you’ve learnt of our hideout, i’m afraid we can’t let you go like that, y/n.” shigaraki’s voice brought you back to reality.

“what do you say, y/n. will you quit living a life full of lies as a hero and stay by my side and destroy this rotten society? now that I've found you, i don't want to lose you again.” shigaraki whispered as he gently stroked your head.

“no.” you replied firmly, looking back into shigaraki’s cold and lifeless ones. 

“...”

“then i guess you’ll have to die.” dabi piped up after awhile.

“no!” shigaraki’s sudden outburst caught everyone by surprise. 

“y/n,” he turned to you. “think about it. we’re doing everyone a favor. after all, there’s no way a new society can emerge unless this tainted one is out of the way. stay and help me, okay? we can be together forever.” 

“tenko, you know my answer. i became a hero to help people and to live your dreams. you know that i won’t give up on your dream.” you sniffed. 

“i told you, that dream’s long gone already.” he scratched at his neck in irritation. “will you join me or not, y/n? i promise you, we’ll never be apart from now on.”

“...”

“sorry. i can’t let you get away with this.” you hung your head low, your shoulders heaving as teardrops dripped onto the wooden floor. 

“shall we kill this pest now?” dabi quipped. 

“no,” shigaraki ordered as he lifted your head with his hand. 

‘i’m never letting you go again, my precious y/n.” he hummed. 

“i want you to stay with me forever.”

[pandoraborn]

Cruelty of the Beast - Part 8

( previous. )

Characters: c!Dream, c!Tommy, c!Ranboo, c!Wilbur Word count: 2136 words Content: the end, seeing the dragon, discussion of good vs. evil, ranboo starts to remember a little more

-----------

The next several days blur together. Ranboo and Tommy aren’t able to find any time alone anymore, because their days from wake up are filled with mining for resources and farming even more. They also include trips to the nether multiple times a day. Each night the two teens can barely finish their dinners before collapsing into a sound sleep in their bunks.

The upside to this is that there’s no room to think much about their situation. Though, if Ranboo were to be honest, he’s starting to enjoy the routine. It’s nice, having something to do each day. He no longer has to question anything bad that might happen to him.

He does keep Tubbo and Michael in the back of his mind. He hopes they’re both okay, though he also hopes Tubbo isn’t sending out search party after search party. He hopes he can slip away soon to meet up back in Snowchester, but with the way this new life is going, that thought is unlikely.

He wakes slowly one morning. His back and muscles ache, and Ranboo wishes he had a way to alleviate the tension, but he’s not about to ask the others for help. He only trusts Tommy, he still doesn’t know how to feel about Dream and Wilbur.

When Ranboo finally sits up, he finds he’s the last one to rise. Tommy’s awake and cooking sausages, Dream is mixing apple juice, and Wilbur is handing Ranboo a plate of food.

“Good morning,” Wilbur says softly. “You don’t look so great.”

“We’ve been busy,” Ranboo mutters. He takes the food though, eating slowly. He decides if Tommy’s the one cooking, then it can’t be all that bad. “How long until we’re going mining again?”

“We’re not going today,” Wilbur says. He offers Ranboo one of his quiet smiles. This time, Ranboo finds a little bit of comfort in it. Mostly, he wants to believe they finally get a day to rest, which means tonight he can sneak-

“Do you want anything for the pain?” Wilbur continues. “You look sore.”

“I’m fine,” Ranboo mumbles. He shakes his head as further confirmation and resumes eating. “Thank you though.”

“If you’re sure.” Wilbur pats him on the shoulder before walking away to take over for Tommy. “Toms, go eat. We have plenty of food.”

“I’m starving,” Tommy complains. “Five sausages doesn’t feel like enough!”

Wilbur starts laughing. “You act like we’re starving you.”

“You are,” Tommy counters. “You’re only giving me five sausages.”

“Tommy, they’re huge. You barely even need three!” Wilbur laughs. “I haven’t eaten yet, I’m stealing your portion.”

“See what I mean?” Tommy stumbles toward Ranboo dramatically, collapsing on the floor by his feet. “Ranboo, when I perish, please call Dream a bitch for me. Honor my legacy.”

Ranboo looks up toward Dream, now curious to see how he’s going to handle this. He expects a snarky comment, but he’s surprised to hear Dream laughing.

Yeah, okay Tommy. I guess I just won’t share this freshly made apple juice with you. I”ll just share with with Ranboo and Wilbur instead. You can keep your water.”

Tommy’s up in a second. “Okay fine. You win, but only because I’m thirsty. Not because I actually want anything from you. You’re still a bitch and I hate you.”

“Tommy, come get your food,” Wilbur interrupts. “I’m giving you four.”

“And pancakes.”

“You have three.” Wilbur hands Tommy his breakfast too. “Sit by Ranboo and eat. We have a present for you two today.”

Ranboo pauses to look up again. Wilbur had said they weren’t working today, but he hadn’t gotten confirmation on why. “A present?” Ranboo asks.

“Yes,” Dream says. He holds up a pitcher. “Aside from the fresh food, we’re going to take you two on a field trip.”

“We’re going back to the SMP, I knew it!” Tommy pumps his fist before clutching at his plate. “Shit, my breakfast!”

“No, it’s not that easy.” The grin fades from Dream’s face. “Look, Wilbur and I did some talking over the past couple of days, and we both agreed we fucked up, so we’re going to include you both more in our plans. We want to gain your trust.”

“Dream, I wasn’t kidding earlier when I said I hated you,” Tommy says. His shoulders seem to deflate. “I would trust Bad over you, and Bad’s got that egg shit going on, and he’s already tried to kill me a few times.”

“I know.” Dream offers a smile that almost seems to mirror Wilbur’s, but it doesn’t quite make the mark. “Tommy, if Wilbur trusts me-”

“Wilbur trusting you has nothing to do with me,” Tommy cuts in curtly. Ranboo silently cheers him on. “It’s going to take a lot more than an ‘I’m sorry’ for me to even think about forgiving you. Everything else is most likely not going to happen.”

Dream throws his hands up in surrender. “Okay, okay. I won’t push. But we do have a treat for you.”

“What’s the treat?” Ranboo asks. He’s ready for the awkwardness to die out. His curiosity is overwriting any other tension he might be feeling, and for once, he’s glad he’s curious. “What’s this field trip?”

“We’re going on a quick trip to the end,” Wilbur says. He plates his own food and sits down in the middle of the cabin. “Ranboo, I know Dream showed you the location, and I know you told Tommy, but we’re going to take a visit there today.”

Tommy swallows thickly. “Any particular reason why we need to see a dragon? What if it eats us?”

“It won’t. We’ve already taken precautions with ensuring our safety.” Wilbur nods toward Dream. “We’ll be perfectly safe when we see it. Now please, children, hurry and eat. You’ll love this, I swear to you.”

---

It takes no more than another hour for them to finish eating (and the apple juice is actually pretty pog, in Tommy’s words). When they clean up and dress for the day, Ranboo holds Tommy’s hand tightly as they make their way toward the campsite and end portal. He’s grateful that Tommy is squeezing just as tightly; glad that Tommy is finding comfort in him just as much as he finds comfort in Tommy. That’s the biggest silver lining in this situation, is they still have each other.

They peek into the hole again, and Ranboo’s stomach churns. He still doesn’t remember digging this, but he has another flash, Dream’s voice echoing in his head, whispered words of praise. The hallucination is gone as quickly as it came, but Ranboo feels a certain sort of peace settle over him.

There’s a ladder that leads down. He must’ve missed it last time he was here, but it’s there, and Dream’s already climbing down slowly, with Wilbur right behind him. Giving Tommy’s hand one last squeeze, Ranboo pulls his hand back and follows suit. He doesn’t want to go down, he doesn’t want to actually confront what he’s done, but Tommy is silently nudging him forward.

“It’s okay Ran, we’re in this together.” Tommy’s voice is a whisper that is almost too quiet to be heard. But the comfort is still there. Tommy’s reassuring him, Tommy’s forgiving him...

That means something.

With a nod, Ranboo climbs down the ladder slowly, keeping his gaze up to watch Tommy. It’s a long climb down, and the ladder is creaking under each step. It feels like any second the ladder can break and they’d all plummet, but a blink later and he’s at the bottom.

He looks back up, and the surface seems way too far above them. There’s only a tiny sliver of light, the rest is shrouded in darkness. Well, except for the portal room, which is well lit.

“Set your spawns,” Dream instructs. “We aren’t taking any chances.”

“I thought you said you took precautions,” Tommy accuses. “We should be safe.”

“We took precautions for the dragon, not the various endermen that live here,” Dream clarifies. “Also, when we dip through, please stay close to us.”

There’s a drawn out silence as the two teens lie in the nearby bed. Ranboo immediately latches onto Tommy again, aware of how sweaty Tommy’s hand is. He doesn’t mind though, because they’re now following the two adults through the portal. There’s no telling what they’ll find on the other side.

What Ranboo isn’t prepared for is how big the dragon is, or how beautiful the void is. It’s an endless...he would describe it as a night sky. His eyes widen as he stares in awe around the nearby area. There are so many endermen...

The end is nothing like what he’d imagined; he’d pictured something desolate and empty, but now that he’s here, amazement and wonderment replace any feelings of apprehension. Ranboo is staring up into the endless inky sky, jaw agape.

“...boo?” Tommy’s voice is distant, cutting into his trance. “Ranboo, you still with us?”

“Huh?” He tries to shake himself, but he’s staring up again, still too lost in a pleasurable daze to focus on Tommy.

“Ah, shit.” Dream’s voice cuts into his thoughts next. “I forgot about this. He’s half enderman, this is like, his homeland. Hey, Ranboo, come here.”

He feels an arm slide around his shoulders, pulling him flush against another body. Only now does Ranboo pull himself out of his trance to focus on Dream, who’s waving a hand in front of his face. He shakes his head a few times, letting reality sink in. Rather than feel embarrassed, he holds onto that peaceful feeling. Everything else that had been eating away in the back of his mind is all but forgotten about.

The group moves closer. Ranboo finds comfort in Dream’s closeness, and up ahead, he can see Tommy holding Wilbur’s hand. When they’re close enough to see the dragon, Ranboo’s eyes widen again.

Wilbur and Dream hadn’t been kidding when they said they’d already taken measures to protect themselves. They’d set up several beacons that seem to trap the dragon in a large circle, on one island. The group is just outside the circle, but they’re all staring up with the same expressions of awe on their faces. Ranboo looks over at Tommy, pulling away from Dream to move closer.

He takes Tommy’s hand again.

“Wow,” Tommy breathes. Ranboo watches him with a smile on his face. “Ranboo, I never thought I’d say this, but this is really fucking cool. Look at it!”

He does. There’s no denying now that this dragon would cause an apocalypse in their main world, but for some reason, while in this realm, he doesn’t feel any sort of worry. He really does feel like everything will be okay.

“Wilbur?” Tommy’s voice interrupts his thoughts.

“Yes child?”

“This is the coolest thing I’ve seen since you kidnapped us.” He moves closer to Ranboo, pressing a hand to his back. Ranboo sighs and leans against Tommy. “If Ranboo and I like it, does this make us the bad guys?”

“Silly Tommy.” Wilbur laughs and reaches over to ruffle Tommy’s hair. “You ask adorable questions.”

Another faint memory stirs deep within Ranboo. A faint memory of a conversation. Not with Dream, but with Wilbur. It comes on so strong that he almost blacks out.

-

He’s in Pogtopia, with the ghost of Wilbur before him. Wilbur had been brought back for a limited amount of time thanks to an ancient spell. He has questions he can’t go to Dream about.

“If I’m working with Dream and he’s hurting people, does that make me a villain?”

“That’s such an antiquated train of thought. No one is a villain, and no one is a hero. We all simply are. Everything serves its purpose and every end justifies the means.” Wilbur tilts his head to the side to smile at Ranboo. “I died for a cause, and it caused this massive avalanche of events. Would you fault me for all of it?”

“No. You did what you had to do, in the end.” Ranboo can feel his lips stretching out. “Just as Dream is doing what he has to do.”

“Then we’re not the villains in this tale, are we? We’re simply working toward a cause.” Wilbur puts his hand on Ranboo’s shoulder. “Don’t focus so much on good versus evil, because everything can be twisted to suit a different set of morals, even if you have the best of intentions.”

“You’re right.” Ranboo smiles at Wilbur. “I trust Dream.”

“Good lad. Keep trusting Dream, he’d never lead you astray.”

-

Ranboo comes back to reality. Only a couple of seconds had passed, but he feels like he’d been drowning in surfacing memories for hours. Wilbur is still playing with Tommy’s hair, and he’s still speaking.

“Of course we’re the villains,” Wilbur continues. “We always have been.”

[thefilmsnob]

Glen Coco’s Top 10 films of 2019

2019 was one of the better movie years I’ve experienced. It was no 2007 or 2013--we all know that--but it was pretty damn good. People who say ‘they just make crap nowadays’ probably aren’t really into movies and are definitely out to lunch. Dammit, now I want lunch. Anyway, here are my picks for the ten best films of 2019 which, as always, follow my runners-up and the traditional bonus track...There’s always a bonus track. 

Runners-Up

-Bombshell

-Booksmart Full Review: https://thefilmsnob.tumblr.com/post/185427895290/booksmart-out-of-5

-Ford v Ferrari

-The Irishman

-Joker Full Review: https://thefilmsnob.tumblr.com/post/188571262775/joker-out-of-5

-Parasite

-The Peanut Butter Falcon

-The Two Popes

And here are my top 10!

#10b. (Bonus Track) Avengers: Endgame

Director: Anthony Russo, Joe Russo

Starring: Robert Downey Jr., Chris Evans, Scarlett Johansson, the rest of Hollywood

Maybe, like some people in the industry, you don’t consider Marvel films to be ‘cinema’. Well, that’s a legitimate and long debate for another time. But, you can’t say that weaving a narrative through 22 related films isn’t an impressive feat. That’s what Marvel Studios did and with the help of the Russo Brothers, and despite the countless moving pieces, they ended this chapter of the franchise almost perfectly with just the right balance of action, human drama, twists, turns and some surprisingly poignant moments. If you didn’t get goosebumps--and maybe even pee your pants a bit--when those portals opened up at the end, bringing to mind Gandolf’s triumphant entrance into the Battle of Helm’s Deep, then maybe movies just aren’t for you, my friend. 

Full Review: https://thefilmsnob.tumblr.com/post/184694412545/avengers-endgame-out-of-5

#10. Marriage Story

Director: Noah Baumbach

Starring: Adam Driver, Scarlett Johansson

Ironically, Marriage Story is actually about a divorce. But, writer/director Noah Baumbach imbues this civil-turned-nasty separation with all the complexity and aggravation that come with being married with child. He treats the divorce like the grueling process you’d expect it to be, one which involves real, flawed people whose needs and desires don’t align, making the situation increasingly distressing for all parties involved. In turn, Driver and Johansson make this distress increasingly palpable for the audience until it feels like we’re in the room with them during one of their several heated arguments. Both actors give some of the best work of their careers, yet it still may be overshadowed by Laura Dern and Ray Liotta who shine as the two ruthless lawyers representing them. Baumbach has been churning out these gems for years, but his latest, which may be his most accessible, may also be his best so far. 

#9. Jojo Rabbit

Director: Taika Waititi

Starring: Roman Griffin Davis, Thomasin McKenzie, Scarlett Johansson

What do you get when you mix Nazi Germany, the ghost of Hitler and a poor Jewish girl trying to survive the second World War? You get one of the funniest and most touching movies of the year, of course. The surging writer/actor/director Taika Waititi, who specializes in quirky films filled with quirkier characters, hasn’t made the typically grim melodrama about Nazi Germany nor is he doing anything close to promoting Nazi culture. Instead, he uses the tale of a young boy who attends a Hitler Youth training camp to highlight the absurdity of this horrible movement while promoting tolerance. He delivers this powerful message by introducing a young Jewish girl who seeks refuge in the home of Jojo and his mother, played by Scarlett Johansson (who clearly had a good year). This leads to Jojo’s crisis of conscience which is complicated by his imaginary friend...who happens to be Adolf Hitler! Yes, the movie is different.

#8. Once Upon a Time...in Hollywood

Director: Quentin Tarantino

Starring: Leonardo DiCaprio, Brad Pitt, Margot Robbie

It’s no surprise that Quentin Tarantino would make a film about 1960s Hollywood starring one of the most prestigious celebrity trios in the business; the guy’s passion--obsession even--for film is unmatched. Here, he uses the medium to take a horrific moment in history like the murder of Sharon Tate at the hands of the Manson Family and gives it the stereotypical Hollywood happy ending. In doing so, he showcases the wish fulfillment of the movies and their power to comfort us with optimism while simultaneously warning of their ability to shelter us from our cruel reality. DiCaprio and Pitt give brilliant performances as characters who add to the perception-vs-reality theme, DiCaprio playing the huge movie star full of anxiety and doubt in real life who relies heavily on his stunt double, Pitt, who’s the actual confident hero. All this and much more takes place in a meticulously recreated Hollywood of the ‘60s that sweeps you up in nostalgia and immerses you in a world of make-believe.

#7. Knives Out

Director: Rian Johnson

Starring: Ana de Armas, Daniel Craig, Chris Evans, Jamie Lee Curtis, Christopher Plummer 

Yes, there have been many murder mysteries. No, Knives Out isn’t just like the rest of them. Writer/director Rian Johnson does a masterful job at crafting a labyrinthine story that’s just complex enough without overwhelming and strikes a perfect balance of suspense and comedy. Featuring one of the greatest casts assembled in 2019 playing a dysfunctional family of despicable yet intriguing individuals of means, the story is full of truly surprising twists and turns and, more crucially, some well-integrated and astute social commentary. This isn’t a two-hour lecture, though; the film is undeniably entertaining. The stand-out here is detective Benoit Blanc, played by Daniel Craig with a delightful southern drawl and an attention to detail that rivals Sherlock Holmes. Craig transcends his James Bond persona while the film itself transcends a genre. 

#6. 1917

Director: Sam Mendes

Starring: George MacKay, Dean-Charles Chapman

If this were a few years ago 1917 would be, without question, my #1 pick. However, as the long, uncut tracking shot has become more common over the years, it’s also lost a bit of its luster; 2014′s Birdman, one of the best films of the decade, also had the appearance of a single take. Nonetheless, to make a war film, with all its tricky choreography and pyrotechnics, look like one long take is still a phenomenal achievement and an absolute marvel to behold. And, although it obviously couldn’t be filmed in one shot, Sam Mendes and master cinematographer Roger Deakins still had to shoot long takes and stitch them together digitally while stealthily hiding the seams. It all helps tell the story of two young soldiers tasked with traversing treacherous territory to warn a Battalion of British soldiers about an impending German ambush. We follow the pair in real time amidst a story of remarkable bravery, enhanced by the fact that we’re with them every step of the way, at once experiencing everything they do up close while being reminded of how removed we really are from the danger they face.

#5. Uncut Gems

Director: Benny Safdie, Josh Safdie

Starring: Adam Sandler, Kevin Garnett (hey, why not?), Julia Fox

There are several talented actors in Hollywood who’ve gained a bad reputation for poor career choices. Ben Affleck and Will Smith come to mind. Perhaps the king of this group is Adam Sandler. He’s excelled sporadically in movies like Punch-Drunk Love and The Meyerowitz Stories, but he gives a truly Oscar-worthy performance in this--ahem--gem. As Howard Ratner, he’s a gambling addict who runs a jewelry store in New York’s Diamond district when he gets his hands on a rare Ethiopian black opal which he hopes will help pay off his many debts. In fact, he owes so much to so many people that he struggles to keep track of it all and we cringe every time he does. The tension builds to an almost unbearable level as a host of dangerous men seek payment. If that’s not enough, he’s on the verge of a divorce as he continues seeing a mistress who’s also his employee while owing $100 000 to his own criminal brother-in-law. If you were stressed just reading that, try watching the movie...or being Howard himself. The Safdie brothers don’t let up either, filming it like a documentary to add to its realism and immediacy...as if it needed that extra boost.     

#4. The Lighthouse

Director: Robert Eggers

Starring: Robert Pattinson, Willem Dafoe

The first thing you notice watching The Lighthouse is that half the screen is missing; Robert Eggers, who also wrote and directed The Witch, shot the film with a 1.19: 1 aspect ratio, making the picture square, like an old-timey photograph. It feels limiting at first until you fully appreciate the feelings of confinement and anxiety it evokes. That’s important in a film about two lighthouse keepers, or wickies, who are forced to live together in insanely grungy and cramped quarters of a lighthouse on a remote island off the coast of New England. Considering the harsh conditions and the fact it’s a horror film, they soon clash and seemingly lose their grip on reality which manifests in macabre images and supernatural occurrences. Or does it? Ha! This is one of the most unique and beautifully filmed movies of the year with the grainy black and white 35mm making it seem like it was made closer to the late 19th century, when the film takes place. Like many recent horror films, this one relies more on mood and imagery than jump scares and is buttressed by only two actors who give award-worthy performances. Alright? So, go to hell; Pattinson can act.

#3. Little Women

Director: Greta Gerwig

Starring: Saoirse Ronan, Florence Pugh, Emma Watson, Timothee Chalamet, Eliza Scanlen, Laura Dern

You might assume that Little Women is a stuffy period piece and even unnecessary considering it’s the seventh adaptation of Louisa May Alcott’s iconic 1868 novel, but the prodigious actor-turned-writer-turned-director Greta Gerwig is too adept in her craft to settle for conventional story-telling. She gives this classic story a fresh, modern take with a non-linear approach and a feminist angle that enhances without overwhelming. Like her work on Lady Bird, she keeps scenes brisk and to the point with decisive cuts. She also adds her unique wit and snappy dialogue. Every conversation, no matter how superficial, leaves you enraptured. So, too, do the characters; it’s a pleasure following these complex girls through the ups and downs of their lives as women of little means and even fewer rights. They’re portrayed by a stellar cast, particularly Jo March who’s played by Saoirse Ronan, perhaps our greatest sub-30 actress. This may be a little movie about little women, but the payoffs and sheer enjoyment are truly grand.   

Full Review: https://thefilmsnob.tumblr.com/post/190231754125/little-women-12-out-of-5

#2. Us

Director: Jordan Peele

Starring: Lupita Nyong’o, Winston Duke 

I know it’s blasphemous, but I might be the only person on Earth who not only thought Get Out was a tad overrated, but that Jordan Peele’s second feature, Us, is the superior picture. It’s easy to look at this film as merely a unique take on the slasher genre, but it’s so much more than that. Like any good horror, it’s creepy as hell, but it’s also brimming with foreshadowing, symbolism and metaphor. There are three or four ideas that Peele sets up at the beginning that seem disconnected to the story, yet they each have a specific purpose and when that becomes evident, it’s incredibly satisfying. Even more impressive is how Peele turns a movie about a vacationing family encountering their doppelgangers into a brilliant commentary on the current state of America, specifically in regards to class division and its relation to the Nature vs Nurture debate. And the movie’s neat twist at the end isn’t just added for shock value; it’s actually the final puzzle piece and essential in conveying the film’s message. I struggled with ranking Us at #1 or #2, but its over-reliance on slasher film action around the mid-point (a minor flaw) was the deciding factor. It’s near-perfect, nonetheless.

Full Film Interpretation: https://thefilmsnob.tumblr.com/post/184073868405/interpreting-jordan-peeles-film-us

#1. Midsommar

Director: Ari Aster

Starring: Florence Pugh, Jack Reynor, William Jackson Harper, Will Poulter

If there’s one thing for which the 2010s should be known, it’s great horror films, a refreshing development after decades of mediocrity. But, just like movies in general from the ‘New Hollywood’ ‘70s, horror films are more creative and ambitious than they’ve been in ages thanks to a handful of visionary filmmakers. Three out of the top five entries are horror movies and that’s saying something.

Midsommar is a mesmerizing horror film that hearkens back to the 1970s when the genre relied more heavily on atmosphere and pacing and sheer creepiness than on jump scares and gimmicks. It takes one hell of a talented writer/director to make a movie shot almost entirely in daylight feel so utterly sinister, but Ari Aster, who also made the acclaimed Hereditary, does just that with ease. What’s more, the film contains no monsters, nothing supernatural and an astonishingly minimal amount of violence, yet when we do see bits of blood and gore, it’s a complete shock to the system. What Aster does rely on is his mastery of lighting and framing to produce images that are unexpectedly eerie.

This is a movie that starts with a group of anthropology students looking to take part in a once-in-a-lifetime festival at a commune in the Swedish countryside and ends in an unspeakable nightmare. It’s a long and sometimes grueling experience that steadily snowballs into horror, but that slow burn is crucial for this delightfully nerve-wracking series of events. Oh, and it’s also a breakup story...possibly the scariest breakup story of all time. It’s certainly the best film of 2019.     

[aditya-robin-blog]

Startups: Expectations vs. Reality

Seed round stealth crowdsource funding venture iPhone deployment release agile development business-to-business. Beta validation user experience ownership influencer channels. Entrepreneur churn rate user experience termsheet MVP funding.

[thesportssoundoff]

“Prospects, Newbies and an old school TV card” The UFC’s 25th Anniversary (but not quite) in Denver

Joey

November 4th

Well folks, we've got a mere TWO months left in this Fox deal. That shakes out to two PPVs, four FS1 events, one Fight Pass Fight Night and one Fox event remain. Our first FS1 trip takes us to Denver, Colorado for a UFC Fight Night anniversary deal. In many ways, this event DOES feel like a throwback to the past. If you cut this show down to a four fight main card with no televised prelim slate, this would be a killer Fight Night. Yair vs Zombie is a fantastic main event on paper that should be an absolute gas while it lasts, the same goes for the action fighter vs action fighter clash as Mike Perry takes on Cowboy Cerrone and then the card is rounded out by two very intriguing battles between proven fighters and former title contenders (one champion!) in GDR vs Rocky Pennington and Ray Borg vs Joe Benavidez. It's not though and so plenty of folks will look at the lack of recognizable names and say "WHO ARE THESE PEOPLE!?" which while fair, also neglects how many top flight prospects they've got on this undercard. It's a four fight great card and then a combination of prospects vs prospects and newbies vs proven gatekeepers. It's actually a not bad fight card even if it's not the love affair many UFC fans probably want for their 25th Anniversary show. We've also got to get a face to face look at what seems to be a two month long farewell tour at 125 lbs as well. I'm not saying you HAVE to watch it but you'd be pretty darn happy TO watch it.

Fights: 13

Debuts:  Maycee Barber, Hannah Cifers, Thiago Moises, Julian Erosa, Devin Smith, Bobby Moffett

Fight Changes/Injury Cancellations: 6 (Frankie Edgar OUT, Yair Rodriguez IN vs Chan Sung Jung/Ricardo Ramos vs Ricky Simon CANCELLED/Chris Greutzmacher OUT, Thiago Moises IN vs Beneil Dariush/Maia Stevenson OUT, Hanna Cifers IN vs Maycee Barber/Alonzo Menifield vs Saparbek Sarafov CANCELLED/Jordan Espinoza OUT, Joby Sanchez IN vs Mark De La Rosa)

Headliners (fighters who have either main evented or co-main evented shows in the UFC): 9 (Chan Sung Jung, Yair Rodriguez, Mike Perry, Donald Cerrone, Germaine De Randamie, Rocky Pennington, Ray Borg, Joe Benavidez, Beneil Dariush)

Fighters On Losing Streaks in the UFC: (Ashley Yoder)

Fighters On Winning Streaks in the UFC: (Germaine De Randamie, Davi Ramos)

Main Card Record Since Jan 1st 2016 (in the UFC):  26-11

Yair Rodriguez- 1-0 Korean Zombie- 3-1 Mike Perry- 5-3 Donald Cerrone- 5-4 GDR- 2-0 Rocky Pennington- 3-1 Ray Borg- 2-2 Joe Benavidez- 2-1 Maycee Barber- 0-0 Hanna Cifers- 0-0 Mike Trizano- 1-0 Luis Pena- 1-0

Divisional Breakdown:

Lightweight- 4 Flyweight-3 Women's Strawweight- 2 Featherweight- 2 Welterweight- 1 Women's Bantamweight-1

Too Low- Beneil Dariush vs Thiago Moises

Let us begin with this fight, sitting comfortably at the very opening of the televised prelims. On a card full of debutantes, high level prospects and four really really good fights, this is one prelim fight that sort of kind of should be a lot higher and potentially as high as the main card. Thiago Moises is a pretty solid regional lightweight who got called up after a spot on the Dana White's Contenders Series in Brazil. At the very least, this has the potential to be a very fun back and forth grappling contest. It's far better than just assuming that these prospects in their debut won't have a slip up or get lost in their nerves.

Too High Up- Maycee Barber vs Hannah Cifers

Okay so this is actually a really good fight. I had a chance to watch Hannah Cifers throughout her Titan Fighting run. She's an articulate striker who often combines precision offense with pressure. She didn't do a ton of grappling in those fights but I'm going to bet she'll be okay there as well. There were basically three fighters given ample hype time going INTO the second season of the Contenders for Dana White; Greg Hardy, Nick Newell AND Maycee Barber. Barber walked through Jaimee Colleen who has a win over Danielle Taylor and outnumbered in her terms of experience. Barber has something different about her and it's not a surprise she's getting the O'Malley treatment given her age, talent level and the need for more fun things at 115 lbs. It just FEELS like you're asking a lot of her here and the same for Ciphers on short notice.

Stat Monitor for 2018:

Debuting Fighters (Current number: 27-35-1):  Maycee Barber, Hannah Cifers, Thiago Moises, Bobby Moffett, Julian Erosa, Devonte Smith

Short Notice Fighters (Current number: 28-23):  Hannah Cifers, Thiago Moises, Joby Sanchez, Yair Rodriguez

Second Fight (Current number: 36-28-1): Mike Trizano, Luis Pena, John Gunther

Cage Corrosion (Current number: 21-36):  Yair Rodriguez, Korean Zombie, Germaine de Randamie, Ray Borg, Chas Skelly

Undefeated Fighters (Current number: 30-21-1): Maycee Barber, Mike Trizano, Luis Pena, John Gunther

Keeping An Eye On But Not Really:

The UFC Win Check Test The records of fighters who have 4 or more UFC fights (or three full calendar years in the organization) but 0 wins against people still in the UFC:  Amanda Bobby Cooper

Twelve Precarious Ponderings

1- Are we TOO optimistic about this main event? On paper, Yair Rodriguez vs Chan Sung Jung is a fight for the ages. The all pressure power punching Zombie vs the super flashy Mexican star seems like the sort of shit you'd get excited about. There are just three key aspects about this fight that I'm having a tough time getting my hands around. The FIRST is the location. Yair Rodriguez has fought at altitude countless times before so it'd be unfair to assume he can't do it BUT it is worth remembering that he was absolutely dead tired in Mexico both times and he slowed down quite a bit in the 4th or 5th rounds in Utah. The Korean Zombie has never struck me as a dude who has had issues with his conditioning but that was a military assignment and a few knee surgeries ago plus I don't think he's ever had a real big altitude fight like this one. The second aspect is just the all around concern or confusion on Yair Rodriguez's mindset. Yair was crushed by Frankie Edgar in his sole UFC loss and that was in May of 2017. He admittedly opted to take a year off to heal up/get better/train around before getting cut from the UFC for a short spell due to Yair either turning down a succession of fights or just not wanting to get bullied into taking a fight. He took a fight vs Zhabit in September, pulled out due to injury and now he's back in early November with no mention of the injury. When Dana was asked about Yair after he pulled out of the Zhabit fight, Dana implied in so many words that Yair was a guy who just didn't want to fight. I think wondering where his head is at relative to taking a fight like THIS one is worthy of asking. Lastly, I think it's 100% fair to say we're not going to see the best version of either dude. The Zombie has fought just ONE time since 2013 and he's now officially beyond 30 years old. Injuries and a military service took him away from MMA for a looong time now and against Bermudez, he looked pretty rusty before he snapped back into it to end the show early. Yair Rodriguez is taking this fight on short notice plus  a year away plus the questions around his career plus the fact that the last time he saw him, Edgar was punching his face into the canvas. I'm not saying this fight will suck, I'm saying we should temper our expectations a bit.

2- How valuable will Yair Rodriguez's kicks be if he's to pull off this upset?

3- So much of Donald Cerrone vs Mike Perry feels like a matter of determining how washed up Donald Cerrone is vs how much you believe Mike Perry can improve under the watchful eyes of Jackson-Wink. Cerrone is what he is and he was able to fight at a frenetic pace against Leon Edwards, giving us an occasional glimpse of what he's good at while reminding us of all the things he's been bad at for his entire career. Mike Perry's upside is of the Chris Leben variety; a high level fun brawler who is going to throw down until the sun goes down on him. That said you'd have to hope an elite gym can iron out some of the weaknesses he's got, primarily his over aggresiveness and his defensive lapses. Would be the hope, riiiight?

4-  If you read this and you're rooting for Cerrone to win so you can get Diego vs Cerrone? Shame on y'all, man.

5- Anybody feel really bad about Ray Borg vs Joseph Benavidez? On paper, this is a really intriguing fight between the inconsistent Borg and the declining Benavidez; the sort of fight that could get Borg back on the winning track or maybe open the door for Benavidez to have one last run to the title. The problem is that there may be no title---and the problem may be that a really good fight on paper will be meaningless because the division is gone. That draws the air out of the building so much for me. The same goes for all three of these fights. Are the winners basically fighting for spots in the 135 lb division?

6- The Contenders Series is really about churning out quantity with some hype vs turning out future champions BUT they've got a few guys on here who could at least be in the conversation of potential title contenders. Maycee Barber is just 20 years old, undefeated and blessed with all sort of skills. Devonte Smith is getting a put together short notice fight vs Julian Erosa to pad the card but he's VERY good and figures to show out against a quality journeyman (fighting out of his weight class). Lastly Thiago Moises could develop into a quality lightweight who can be relied on to draw fights in Brazil.

7- Davi Ramos has won two straight in the UFC, both by submission. Normally that gets you a nice step up but the reality is that it's not happening here. He's getting John Gunther in what feels like an opportunity to run Gunther out of the UFC after his awful win vs Allan Zuniga.

8- GDR totally disappeared off the face of the Earth after her win vs Holly Holm, citing hand problems and an unwillingness to fight Cyborg to go along with a pull out of a fight vs Marion Reneau. She returns against Rocky Pennington who had an equally lengthy lay off prior to her fight vs Amanda Nunes. This feels like a last chance fight for two ladies with different issues.

9- Why is Amanda Bobby Cooper vs Ashley Yoder the featured prelim? Is there some sort of Mackenzie Dern victim prize at stake?

10- Chas Skelly vs Bobby Moffet is the Spiderman pointing meme of this card.

11- The TUF Undefeated Season was...something. It was a grueling watch live and the finale is easily the worst TUF finale I've ever seen. This is a big bounce back opportunities for guys like Mike Trizano and John Gunther. Luis Pena got hurt and was pulled off the show but dominated Richie Smullen so he's sort of safe. Trizano vs Pena is going to be a very interesting fight worth keeping an eye on.

12-  Would there be any interest in Holm vs GDR 2 if she wins?

[andreacaskey]

How to solve the marketing reporting conundrum without being a magician

If sales and leads are what our leadership teams, whether internally or externally, care most about, what does this mean for PPC marketers?

Such preferences can lead to a level of expectation that marketers are going to create a magic sales faucet, a fountain of fortune, or that there’s a secret Google leads button hidden in our toolbox somewhere. And hey, PPC marketers can help make some pretty magical things happen, but we’re definitely not magicians, at least not in the Gandalf the Grey or Albus Dumbledore kind of way. 

There can also be a limiting belief that there is no value in marketing components and efforts that don’t have a direct correlation to exact dollars, and by some sort of wizardry, it’s somewhat expected a visitor will just magically appear on a business’s website and then (poof) become a customer. Such bloated misunderstandings of reality are great examples of expectations that may lead to conversations where we hear things like “Facebook doesn’t work”, “We just want the most bang for our buck”, and “Focus only on low funnel”.

Expectation vs. Reality

Most consummate marketers know consumers are not mythological robots that you one simply puppet into a magical fountain of money.  In actuality, consumer behavior is the farthest thing from linear, constantly evolving. 

Understanding customer journey for reporting

We know customer journey is a complex process but getting a baseline understanding can positively impact our marketing reporting and data measurement. Start by asking: What data do we know? What is assumed based on what we know? 

Why customer journey matters: When as marketers and their stakeholders we scrutinize reporting needs we can then attribute longer timelines to different types of attribution models. Studying marketing reports does not need to be perfect math but conceptual understanding can improve cross-channel performance attribution and understanding of what marketing tactics are driving success within your reporting funnel.

What is our customer lifetime value? 

What is our average customer retention?

What is the typical sales timeline to close? 

What is our average order value? 

Additional Considerations: Emotional investment of the purchase, the purchase price (average buyer’s journey for purchasing a yacht is 5 years), timeliness (is this something that is urgent they need to purchase or is there risk in making a quick purchase). 

The more your customer value and complexity of purchase is, the more challenging it can be for reporting and data management. More fastidious use of data can also help teams overcome the “Facebook doesn’t work for sales” argument when you can show longer attribution and the multiple touchpoints of your customers. 

Set up reporting and get to what matters

Here is a list of questions you can ask to get started on wrangling the data and reports that are going to matter most for your teams and stakeholders.

Who are the reporting stakeholders? Who needs to see the data? What do they care about?

There is so much time wasted when you are constantly making changes to marketing reports. One classic method to limit marketing report spew and churn is to segment who your key reporting audiences are and create dashboard views and reporting formats specifically tailored for reporting consumer segments. Think of it like audience targeting with summary data. 

Understanding what matters to each stakeholder’s role involved in the reporting process is crucial for success: marketers, executives, sales teams and other stakeholders.

What business questions do we want to try to get answers to?

What questions do you need to answer for executives?

What reports are you using today? Where do they come from?

 What questions are you asking today that you wish you had answers to?

Are there any dots you are hoping to connect? 

As we start mapping reporting frameworks it’s important to determine success criteria, and what success looks like at each level of the organization: business, brand, and marketing. This will help define not only what’s desired but also what is actually possible.

Define some common vocabulary:

Creating a report glossary can be especially important working with sales teams. Make sure said teams are on the same page with the what and how behind the categorization of certain labels. Below is an example of a sales/marketing vocabulary list:

Contacts – New contacts added into the system (First name, last name, email address)

Subscriber – A contact who has opted in to receive content

Lead – Someone who has provided you more information about themselves 

Marketing Qualified Lead (MQL) – A lead that is deemed ready for marketing messages, they have deemed themselves interested in our product and services, given additional information and opted into marketing 

Sales Qualified Lead – A lead that is deemed ready for sales messages

Opportunity – Someone who is ready to buy and ready to receive sales correspondence 

Customer – Someone who has purchased a product or service

Brand advocate – Someone who is actively advocating for your brand 

Data integration and KPIs, setting up for success 

As PPC marketers, we love to talk about our access to data, reporting tools, and everything shiny that’s new in the industry. But, the reality for most geeky marketers is, in our day-to-day working lives we manage data with our hands tied behind our back in a box. Yikes!

Managing the data can be complex and most of the time dots are not easily connected. Data ambiguity exists at all levels of sizes of companies. The larger, more complex, the messier it can be. Often we have to answer questions like why and how Facebook calculates views vs. YouTube, versus what analytics is reporting, and then define if there is ROI attached.

And, the reality is this is extremely difficult at times because our foundations are sometimes flawed, nearly every system, channel etc. can be calculating things a bit differently, and the systems don’t always connect and talk to each other properly. So, what the heck do we show what we need to and report on it? Similar to getting on the same page for vocabulary, we have to determine common ground for tracking.

These are some questions to ask to get you started:

What can we actually track (example if we can’t actually track sales, we can’t optimize for it)

What data do we truly have? What is currently being tracked? What else is possible to track?

What tools do we have?

What is trackable?

What is not trackable?

What blind spots do we have? Are there any ways we can remove those? 

What third-party constraints exist?

Is there anything we should not track? (Example: exclusion list for IPs, etc.)

If it’s a missed opportunity that cannot be changed, note the disconnect, put it in your reporting framework. Determine what is going to be counted as what and for where and why. If there’s a way to integrate data not currently integrated, note the omission, see if it’s possible to integrate missing data and if it’s not possible, note the short circuit and make sure all stakeholders are on the same page.

Drilling down: What to actually put in reports

What marketing process questions do we seek answers to? What is the most valuable information? What campaigns, KPIs and overall metrics do we want to measure? And does this look different for any of the below?

What benchmarks do we have and wish to use?

What marketing questions do we want to summarize? What elements do we need to track and measure?

Campaigns

Websites

Third Party Channels or Websites

Social Channels

Audiences

What else?

Once we’ve put lists together, summarize key talking points in a brief and share findings with teams and stakeholders. Give other players a chance to contribute ideas and ask questions to help alleviate changes and challenging conversations once you start generating reports. 

Presentation; it doesn’t have to be fancy

Presentation is important but the style doesn’t need to be fancy. It needs to be in a way that those using the data can understand. Sometimes the best reports are simple spreadsheets or diagrams, or for C-suite, it may just be a funnel image with a few bullets on performance that make it easy to digest.

Here are some examples:

Below is a funnel report that shows an increase in lead to MQL and SQL performance for a C-Suite leadership team.

Below is a simple spreadsheet report that was created in collaboration with a sales team leader to report to a sales team using a Google Spreadsheet (the team’s preference).

Or when you need to explain digital marketing reports to someone who hasn’t done digital marketing before:

Or when you have an engaged ecommerce team who wants to report on ongoing ROAs performance. This is an automated Power BI report.

Or an ecommerce team evaluating website performance to Revenue. This is also an automated report using Power BI.

A creative team report who is running CRO testing on a website landing page that needs to improve FTD Rate (conversion rate – free trials and demo submission rate).

Iterate and test your reporting effectiveness

Find the formats that work best for you and your team. It is also a good idea to treat the first round of reports as a draft, this is a good time to get feedback or make adjustments. Once you’ve done this, it will make the ongoing reporting process easier.

The post How to solve the marketing reporting conundrum without being a magician appeared first on Search Engine Land.

How to solve the marketing reporting conundrum without being a magician published first on https://likesandfollowersclub.weebly.com/

[nekodracones]

The castle-focused Atlas economy: How it’s contributing to Atlas stagnation by rewarding the wrong achievements

When Atlas first launched, it was presented as a high-octane conflict rich battle royale.  Seen here:

The reality is, of course, far less exciting.  While Atlas conflict still occurs in the form of an occasional raid or sniper jaunt and even the rare large-scale castle battle, the average team is unlikely to see any serious castle battles on 5ta castles, or conflicted castle turnovers within a typical month.  (Unless, of course, said castle was poorly manned and an obvious target.  Then you’re just asking for it.)

When asked for an assessment of the above excerpt in the context of our current reality, my friend Titan commented as such:

20:09 Cat I need you to describe this (the photo above) in the context of our current Atlas situation 20:09 Titanium it appears to be describing a much better game than the one we get to play.

Indeed.  But why is reality falling short of expectations such a problem?

...---...

Expectations vs. Reality

It wouldn’t be a problem if PG devs could admit that their Atlas reality falls short of their ideal Atlas and adapt their season ranking method to suit the current state of Atlas.

This is the scoring system for the Lotusbloom Atlas season. (here) A quick read shows that the leaderboard is based on the most valuable 20 castles.  In any competition, something has to be competed for.  This leaderboard reads like it was concocted in an ideal environment where castles are fought over, and the longer a team holds a castle or the number of castles a team conquers within a season are a valuable measure of their competence.   

This is fine...if castle ownership and conquering were actually based on any sane standard metric of performance and activity.

In real Atlas, they are not.  How so?

...---...

1. Basic Economics 101

I’ve spoken to a lot of people in my time playing this game.  A shocking majority of people didn’t even know you got team rewards for completing an Atlas season, beyond a few Cat-triggered realisations that that’s where they got so-and-so portrait from.

Why?  For said majority of the atlas-playing population, said rewards are marginal to the point of being unnoticeable, to the point that for most, there is no incentive to go past 3.6m glory and waste troops fighting for castles.

Here are the rewards for the Lotusbloom Atlas season.  Notice how rewards drop off dramatically after the 26th-50th bracket, arguably even after the 11th-25th bracket.  Don’t forget that such highly-ranked teams are likely to home players who probably won’t even notice such insubstantial rewards for completing a three-month long season.

When your competition rewards are irrelevant for 95%+ of your atlas population, they’re badly scaled and you probably shouldn’t be surprised when your competition ends up being irrelevant and ignored.

...---...

2. Shooting Yourself in The Foot to Kill a Fly

The following mechanic was intended to encourage conflict and incentivise getting one over your opponents via retaining castles all while conquering theirs, but in reality, this actually backfires.

Given how difficult and costly conquering castles actually is, it’s better to sequester yourself away on castles and maintain peace with your neighbours once you have the castles you want, to prevent getting attacked.  Conflict isn’t rewarded enough to risk a conquer; when infrastructure bonuses are far more significant than any benefits the paltry Atlas season prizes (for most teams) could provide.

Below rank 25, there’s also no reason for teams to make conquer attempts on rivals’ castles in order to reduce their victory point potential, as it is unlikely to put them into a new bracket on the leaderboard, to get more prizes.

All in all, this mechanic just reads like a cruel, ironic joke in the context of how Atlas really is.

...---...

3. We came, We saw, We (did not) conquer

Conquering castles is an extremely costly time and troop investment.  With the existence of mega alliances, any given team has a limited number of viable castles that could be conquer targets, and it’s perhaps more costly than PG might expect to conquer a single castle. To expand on this, as part of a mega alliance, teams within the same mega alliance are socially contracted to not target each others’ castles, even though they may be vulnerable, or strategically easy conquers.  This reduces attractive conquer targets for individual teams drastically.

On top of this, mega alliances tend to send lots of teams to defend castles from conquer; the better positioned the contested castle, the more teams are summoned.  This is a point that has been belaboured multiple times in multiple channels, so I won’t expound too much on it: hitting ten times and only having one hit land is not fun.   Castle conquers are not fun.

Furthermore, the work needed to conquer castles is not worth any advancement made in team prizes unless you’re on the brink of the next bracket, which is...again, a marginal increase in prizes.  Season ranking honestly only really matters to the people already at the top (within the top 25 ranks), and at that level you probably already got all the castles you wanted in previous seasons and decided that further advancement via conquer wasn’t worth it.  Don’t forget how a majority of the people ahead of you are from your very own alliance, and you can’t conquer from them.

Social factors aren’t fully PG’s fault, but it’s irresponsible for season design to not consider these factors’ effects on player behaviour.

...---...

4. One Atlas Season, Disguised as Many

Castle ownership isn’t reset between seasons, and the churn is so low that it makes no sense to pretend that we expect any changes to the castle ownership-based leaderboard in each season.

Before some of you pick up your pitchforks and run me through for blaspheming and suggesting seasonal Atlas resets (which is an entire different discussion that has seen a lot of sane discourse on both sides, and deserves a whole series of posts)- that’s not what I’m saying.

Without touching the issue of whether castles should be a resource that carries over between seasons, it makes little sense to me to award discrete seasonal rewards for achievements made in past seasons that carry over into new ones, with such a low loss rate that basically all most teams need to do is ‘don’t fuck up’.

If you’re not doing much beyond maintenance work between and during seasons, and possibly expending less effort on expanding and maintaining your territories as compared to smaller teams that actually see significant/insignificant changes to their real estate holdings within a season, should you really be rewarded prizes that are tens of times as valuable?

(Cue the pitchfork mob coming @ me to tell me how much they worked for whatever castles they have.  Sure.  That’s a whole other debate, and I’m not going down that hole yet.)

Point being, the static nature of a team’s castle holdings throughout different seasons make them a poor metric as an assessment of seasonal ‘team performance’, and trying to pass them off as a good ranking system for discrete seasons is a Bad Idea.

...---...

5. Easy Lies the Head that Wears the Crown

Last but not least, we must consider how alliance plays a big part in terms of the castles teams have the ability to hold.  Amongst the 25 teams on the castle ownership-based leaderboard, PaleHorseRider is the only longtime non-Dread Friendly team.  (EXITIUM/ theMovement is politically relatively new on the scene, and the ownership of castles involved with them are still shifting, so let’s not talk about them yet)

Before this season, all the teams that were on the top 25 leaderboard were Dread-friendly teams.  We can probably thank(?) theMovement for PHR’s move up the ranks.

By virtue of having a stronger alliance behind them, Dread Friendly teams are less likely to lose their castles as it is more risky for opposing teams to make conquer attempts on them.  Conversely, it is more attractive for their stronger alliance to go after attractive castles that teams with weaker alliances own. Certainly PG devs could argue that this is intended.  But to what extent does PG want heavily influential social factors to play into a team’s individual leaderboard ranking, which one could argue should mainly be a measure of a team’s individual competence, performance, and activity within a season?

Just as PG’s castle ownership-based season scoring system assumes the setting of PG’s ideal Atlas world, is that same ideal Atlas world as heavily influenced and bound down by politics as the reality of the game we actually play is?

...---...

6. Ships of Theseus

If one were to gradually repair a ship and replace every single component of it as time passed, would the ship with all parts replaced still be the same ship?  Similarly, if one were to replace members on a team as time wore on, would the team, with a majority of players replaced, still be the same team?

Castles, however, follow teams, not individual players.  Would a mostly-replaced team with a wealth of inherited castles truly deserve the seasonal rewards that said castles would grant them, when the goal of each season should arguably be to reward competence, high performance, and high activity in teams?

When you use a castle ownership-based seasonal ranking, how do you differentiate grandfathered advantage from true competence?

You don’t.

You choose a better metric to measure seasonal competence by.

...---...

Data Analysis: Elementary, my Dear Watson

Let’s take a look at the Atlas seasonal team rankings from past seasons.

It’s been the same since the first Atlas season, and these results could have been predicted long before the first season was even announced.  You may notice that this ranking also matches the current influence ranking.

I’ve made a point about how the castle ownership-based leaderboard seems like a single season arbitrarily divided and rewarded as many.  Arguably, the castle ownership-based leaderboard assumes that gaining and keeping castles = activity, so, as a general guideline, these top teams’ castle holdings should align with their all time troop kills, no?

In the format: Influence. TeamName [ ATK / ATK rank ] 1. DREADNOUGHT [ 2.21B / 1 ] 2. LethalDescent [ 1.96B / 2 ] 3. JAPANeeeeZE [ 1.02B / 19 ]

Clearly these are all top teams who have consistently performed well since the release of Atlas.  While I regrettably have no way to obtain the full season’s worth of data on these teams, let’s check out their monthly troop kills.

In the format: Influence. TeamName [ MTK / MTK rank ] 1. DREADNOUGHT [ 45.7M / 5 ] 2. LethalDescent [ 22.8M / 105 ] 3. JAPANeeeeZE [ 33.2M / 32 ]

This is unfortunately less valuable data than the last set.  As it’s the last month of the Atlas season, most players on top teams have finished their seasons and wound down their Atlas activity, having most likely finished it within the first month, specifically within the first two weeks of double glory.

(This is actually indicative of another problem within the Atlas season, this one about personal glory- there’s very little incentive to go past 3.6m glory; the atlas chest return on troops is paltry.  This is another factor that has discouraged conflict this season- it’s more worth it to save for the next season than make an attempt to change one’s team Atlas ranking by attempting to conquer castles for the reasons provided above.)

While the data comparison above doesn’t really prove anything beyond proof that atlas seasons are really a sham and it’s just all one season arbitrarily chopped up into three-month durations, the following data will hopefully demonstrate how the castle ownership-based season structure fails to reward high-performing high-activity teams for high seasonal activity.

In the format: Influence. TeamName [ MTK / MTK rank ] [ ATK / ATK rank ] 22. PaleHorseRider [ 40.0M / 14 ] [ 1.40B / 8 ] 27. RoyalRoad [ 31.4M / 39 ] [ 1.51B / 7 ] 30. ButWeAreBetter [ 39.7M / 15 ] [ 1.71B / 3 ] 46. ProjectGhost [ 33.3M / 31 ] [ 0.56B / 73 ] 71. ANGELSnDEM0NS [ 66.2M / 1 ] [ 1.25B / 10 ] 113. WarEnforcers [ 64.5M / 2 ] [ 1.05B / 18 ] 346. UnitedinHonor  [ 32.0M / 35 ] [ 0.46B / 110 ]

The first three entries are the three non-Dread teams with the highest power ranks in the game.  One may notice that while they’re well ranked and comparable to LD, Dread, and NeeeeZE both in terms of monthly and all times troops killed (they’re consistent!) their influence ranks are significantly lower than teams higher-ranked than them on the seasonal leaderboard that have killed fewer troops in both areas.  Is this truly fair?

As the largest team in Arachnid, ProjectGhost holds their own troop-kill wise and surpasses many teams on the seasonal leaderboard.  Their all time kills are lower; they seem to have come into their own niche more recently.  Nevertheless, their influence ranks are similarly noticeably poorer than lower-performing Dread Friendly teams.  On top of this, the juxtaposition of their ATK vs their MTK highlights how teams can adapt and change and increase their performance seasonally instead of simply maintaining the same standards throughout their Atlas careers.

ANGELSnDEM0NS and WarEnforcers make for an interesting comparative case study.  The former is a Sine Nomine team, arguably the crown jewel in the Dread Friendly empire of alliances.  The latter is a founding team of the Libertas alliance, a semi-independent anti-Dread alliance.  They beat out 70 and 110 higher-influence ranked teams respectively to rank as the top and runner-up in terms of troops killed this month so far.  In terms of all time kills, both are ranked higher than a majority of teams occupying the top 25 seasonal leaderboard.  Clearly both teams have been demonstrating consistent, long term high-performance atlas activity, and yet both of them are comparatively low on the seasonal leaderboards.  It’s also interesting to note the disparity in team influence, which can probably at least be partially attributed to their political allegiances.  I can’t definitively speak for why either team never chose to attempt to break into higher ranks, with their activity, but I suspect that their reasons are varied, can probably be derived from my previous points, and will likely culminate in the conclusion that the effort just isn’t worth it.

Finally, UnitedinHonor is personally a fascinating team to me.  At rank 346, if the seasonal leaderboard was an accurate judge of a team’s activity, one would expect their performance to be solidly middle-of-the-pack.  Instead, they come in at rank 35 on the monthly kills leaderboard and 110 on the all time kills leaderboard, which puts them ahead of certain teams on the seasonal leaderboard itself.  This is no small feat for a platinum team with a lower power rank.  Additionally, noting the lower comparative ATK, we can make an assumption that this team has come into its own more recently, which would easily explain why they don’t have as many castles- they likely haven’t been prominent for a long enough time to receive gifted castles, as many higher influence-ranked teams have.

Of course, all these specific analyses are pure conjecture.  I cannot pretend to understand fully every team’s situation, but I will suggest that these stats shed a light on the veracity of my points.  These teams’ individual situations and positions on the seasonal leaderboard can all at least be partially attributed to a few of the points I’ve made in this post.

If PG would be willing to consider using a better metric to measure team competence, performance, and activity next season, I’ll be a happy Cat.